The Hand of Vengeance

by Renee Rose

  He reached for her hand to guide her down, helping her to settle on her side in front of him. His body spooned hers, his longer legs following the contour of her bent ones, his arm draped over her waist. He pulled her back against his chest. “Better?” he murmured, his lips not far from her ear.

  She turned her head, looking over her shoulder at him. “Yes.” Her voice sounded husky, thick like honey.

  His temperature rose, and all the blood rushed to his cock. She looked away, saving him from embarrassing himself by breaking his promise not to molest her because he’d wanted nothing more than to claim her full lips.

  Her small form nested against his, so soft and delicate compared to his brutish size and features. He inhaled the scent of her—warm and sweet, like the syrup the women made from sweet reed juice. Like sugar cakes with melting butter. Her corn silk hair dropped back against his cheek, the glossy blond strands tickling his skin. He lay perfectly still, wanting to let her fall back to sleep, hoping she wouldn’t notice the thickening bulge in his trousers.

  Chapter Three

  She suffered from Stockholm syndrome. That was the only explanation. Because Blade’s muscled arm heavily draped across her waist should not have her feeling so safe and...dear lord—did she actually feel snuggly?

  She barely remembered the first and only time she’d slept with a man. During her first year of higher education, when she’d been only eighteen, determined to try out this thing called sex. It had been horrible. Awkward and painful and followed by a long night of trying not to move with another person’s limbs flung over her.

  She probably hadn’t slept any better last night, but she’d been warm and actually felt protected and safe. She still wore Blade’s jacket and hat, and the memory of him dressing her in them made something warm and gooey move in her chest. When was the last time anyone had taken care of her needs? Well, sure—her staff did. They’d do anything she asked, and they looked out for her, too, bringing her food or hot tea when she forgot to take care of herself. But not a man. Not like this. She realized Blade was acting the part of the Jeselian gender archetype—man as protector. And authority figure. She squeezed her cheeks together at the memory of his discipline. No residual pain. Her movement caused an answering stirring from Blade—his cock twitching against her buttocks.

  She froze.

  In a flash, he rolled away and stood up, towering above her. His coal-black gaze pinned her to the ground where she lay helpless to move. Something about the sight of him—the enormous, dominant size, the gorgeous ripple of muscle, the shocking markings on his face, made her limbs go weak. She literally couldn’t make herself swallow, much less speak.

  Without a word, he bent and offered her a hand.

  Somehow, she managed to take it and let him pull her easily to her feet.

  He scanned the area of their camp, his eyes resting on a slender opening in the rocks she hadn’t seen the night before. Had he seen it? Walking with the grace of a panther, he peered inside then turned to her, a smile on his lips. “Doctor, come here.”

  After the mountain lion or wildcat or whatever it had been nearly attacked her last time, she was loathe to enter any caves. But Blade beckoned, looking cheerful for a change, so she walked over.

  Inside, she heard the echo of dripping water. The smell of sulfur tickled her nose.

  “Too bad I didn’t see this last night—we would have slept in warmth.”

  She realized then that the cave must be at least twenty degrees warmer than it felt outside. She frowned. “Hot springs?” She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light filtering in from cracks in the ceiling as well as from the mouth of the cave.

  “Yes.”

  She looked around. The cave walls were a beautiful shade of purple stone, shaping a large, circular room. In the center, a dark pool of water glittered where a shaft of sunlight hit it.

  Blade walked toward the water’s edge, stripping off his clothes.

  She stared, dumbfounded by his lack of modesty. No, that wasn’t true. She was dumbfounded by his stunning physique. The man was built like a Greek God. She gaped at his bare ass, the muscles of his thighs. How big was his manhood? She just had to know…

  Better sense gripped her. “I’ll...ah...wait outside. You know, for my turn.” Blade turned, already to his waist in the inky depths of the hot water. He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  Was part of her disappointed at that response? Her knees wobbled as she walked back outside and gulped fresh air.

  Glad for some privacy, she squatted behind a boulder to pee. With her pants still down, she twisted around to check her bottom, but couldn’t manage to see it without a mirror. She wondered if the whipping had left any marks. As a doctor, she knew that area of the anatomy had plenty of fleshy protection, which was the very reason it had been used in ancient times on Earth as the target for punishment. Rather than revulsion at the practice, which she’d previously experienced when hearing about it, fascination crept into her thoughts and dampened her panties. It hadn’t hurt so very much. Well, it had at the time, but now when she remembered it—being tied up and bent over the log, her bottom bared to Blade for his punishment—she found it more exciting than she cared to admit. What in the hell was wrong with her?

  Blade ambled out, running his fingers through his wet hair and looking relaxed and refreshed. Damn. Now that he was dressed again, she wished she’d stayed to watch him coming out of the water. For the frontal view.

  “I’m going to hunt. You have a turn in the pool.”

  “Wait—” She hated the desperation in her voice, but she didn’t want to be left alone. “Can’t I come with you?”

  His dark eyes narrowed. “No.”

  He certainly was a man of few words.

  “Why not? I won’t scream this time. I’ll be quiet.”

  As usual, he chose to answer her questions with silence, walking away without answering.

  “What if those beasts come back?”

  “The rye-wolves?” He turned and looked over his shoulder at her, his face inscrutable. “You’re really afraid?”

  “Yes.”

  He pulled his laser gun from his belt and handed it to her. “Only use it if your life is in real danger because it will bring on a new world of trouble from Treedle’s army. You remember what happened last time you attracted their attention.”

  She swallowed. Yeah, she remembered. And she remembered the consequences.

  “Do you know how to fire a laser gun?”

  She shifted her thumb over the red button. “Here?”

  He moved behind her, reaching to shape his larger hands around hers. His body might have been made of steel or stone for the hardness of muscle that molded her. She inhaled his masculine scent—woodsy and clean.

  “Yes, but your forefinger has to hold down this lever at the same time—it’s the safety mechanism.” His warmth and nearness sent a cascade of not unpleasant sensations through her body. “Got it?”

  “Yes, sir.” Her face heated, and she kicked herself for calling him sir. His commanding presence made it impossible not to address him with respect. He had certainly flexed his authority over her more than once.

  He removed his hands from hers, his brows drawn together. Pointing an oversized finger at her, he said, “Do not leave this area. Do you understand me?”

  “Loud and clear.” Her eyes settled on his finger, which, for some reason, her brain sized up in comparison to a penis. It was the size of a normal man’s length. The muscles in her pelvic floor lifted and contracted. If his fingers were that big, how large was his manhood?

  She turned away to hide the blush spreading across her face. Hurrying to the cave, she gripped the gun, alert for wild animals. She didn’t see any lurking and the water did look inviting, so she stripped and stepped in.

  It was warmer than a bath, but not too hot. Perfect, actually. She floated on her back and wondered about the large rebel.

  When had he been a slave? Where had he won
freedom and how? How long had he been fighting on the rebel’s side? She wondered what they wanted with her. Why had they not taken her entire team if they required the services of a medic? Why only her? While she believed he intended to keep her safe until he delivered her to his superiors, she didn’t know if going along docilely with the rebel’s plans for her was in her best interest.

  She thought about the weapon he’d left with her. Perhaps she should take the upper hand and demand he return her to her clinic. She scrambled out of the water and shook off the droplets, pulling on her clothes while still damp. Her hand fit around the handle of the laser gun. She walked to the mouth of the cave and imagined confronting him.

  Hearing the snap of a twig, she lifted her head, listening for his return. Sure enough, she heard footsteps. She lifted the laser gun and held it with both hands. Widening her stance, she aimed it for the place she expected him to appear.

  His large frame appeared through the trees. His step faltered only for a half-second when his black gaze fell on the weapon. “You’d better fire before I take that from you.” He continued to stalk toward her.

  Her fingers tightened, her thumb hovering over the red button. She considered shooting near his feet, or in the air as a warning, but before she’d arrived at any decision, he snatched the weapon from her trembling fingers.

  He picked her up by the waist and carried her to a boulder. Sitting with his back against the stone, he pulled her to the ground and arranged her over his lap.

  The first strike of his large palm on her ass made her shriek.

  “I’d be quiet if I were you.”

  She recalled the snarling beasts—What had he called them? Rye-wolves?—from the night before and clamped her lips closed.

  He yanked her leggings down. The cool breeze across her cheeks made her shiver. He slapped again, this time on her bare flesh. Her instincts for self-preservation sent her scrambling off his lap.

  He caught her and hauled her back, forcing her to look at him. She knelt beside him, her leggings tangled around her thighs, her bottom tingling.

  “You can take your punishment with my hand, or I can cut a sweet-reed and give you a caning you won’t soon forget. Now, which will it be?”

  She glared at him, her bottom clenching convulsively.

  Thankfully, he didn’t make her answer, just jerked his head at his lap. “Lie down for your spanking.”

  Her heart slammed against her ribs. She sure as hell didn’t want to find out what a caning felt like. But she also hated being cowed by the rebel.

  He raised an eyebrow, and she dived over his lap. “Spread your legs.”

  She went still. Did his voice sound rougher than usual? What the hell kind of game was this?

  He slapped the back of her thigh. “Now, Doctor.”

  She inched her thighs open. At least she had the G-string to cover her private parts.

  He lit her butt on fire, striking first one cheek then the other, harder than she would have imagined possible. His palm covered the entire swell of each globe, and he packed a power behind his swats that made her squeeze her bottom together to avoid the pain.

  “Ouch, that hurts,” she cried. But of course he knew that. He meant it to. “Ow, stop it.”

  He didn’t stop. He spanked on and on. The initial shock of pain turned into a burning throb.

  “Never, ever point a weapon you’re not willing to use.”

  “Oomph...oh!” She struggled to draw a breath. “How did you know I wouldn’t use it?”

  “You’re a doctor. Your entire ethos is to save lives, not take them.”

  Well, damn. He had her there.

  “A split second of hesitation could cost you your life, Doctor. When you point a lethal weapon, you’re inviting reciprocation. That was a stupid, stupid move.” He punctuated each word with punishing blows.

  “Okay, okay,” she cried. “It was a stupid move. I’m sorry.”

  He still continued spanking.

  She twisted and turned, trying in vain to dodge the blows. “Ouch, please.” She sounded like a child. This man had reduced her to this—humiliated, with her pants down, across his lap, completely at his mercy. The ridiculousness of it didn’t diminish the pain or embarrassment. Worse, her pussy seemed to register every smack on a different scale than her ass because it pulsed and leaked with excitement. And with her thighs open, Blade had a perfect view of the soaked gusset of her panties.

  ~~*~~

  The lower half of the little doctor’s ass had turned pink, his handprints staining her skin. He paused and rubbed her heated flesh. Hi gaze traced the miniscule piece of pink satin nested between her cheeks to the place where it widened just enough to cover her twat. He drew in a breath.

  The fabric was wet.

  He squeezed his eyes closed, willing his raging libido into check. He wasn’t a stranger to women who liked it rough. No doubt the ones who chose him did so for his fearsome appearance and presumed dominance. Gentle wasn’t part of his sexual repertoire. But he hadn’t expected it from her.

  She wasn’t the submissive type.

  He gave her bottom a pat and pulled up her leggings. With a backward tug on her hips, he helped her upright. “Kneel up and look at me.”

  Her bottom settled onto her heels, kneeling to his right. Her face was red, and her eyes blazed. She drew her head back and spat on his cheek.

  He sighed and hauled her back over his lap. She fought harder this time, twisting and rolling away from him. He pinned both her wrists behind her back and yanked down the leggings once more.

  With one finger of the hand holding her wrists, he yanked up on her panties, pulling the fabric taut over her cunt and anus. He didn’t hold back this time, spanking her with his full strength.

  Still, she continued to buck and writhe, cursing him and fighting like a little wildcat. She kicked and thrashed.

  “Lara, lie still or I’ll cut a switch.” It was the first time he’d used her given name, and her entire body shuddered when he spoke it.

  She went still.

  “Good girl.”

  He started to spank her again, but not as hard as he had when she’d fought him. If she was the type of woman who found sexual gratification from dominance, this could be cathartic for her. He imagined the past sixteen hours ranked high on her stress meter.

  He slowed down, giving her firm, steady strokes, watching her bottom flatten and spring back as he punished her.

  Her breath steadied, though it still rose and fell at a rapid rate. She faced away from him, her cheek resting on the ground. He watched her expression. She set her teeth and squeezed her eyes closed with each smack, a resolute look on her face.

  How long would it take to break her? He wouldn’t want to spank her long enough to leave lasting marks, but if he could give her the release of tears or submission, it would make their day much easier.

  He continued on, noting the moment her shoulders eased. Her body grew heavy on his thighs as she gave herself over to the spanking, accepting the pain he administered. He went on, lightening the spanks still more but maintaining the same rhythm. He gave another thirty spanks then stopped and released her wrists, rubbing her swollen ass.

  She started to scramble up, but he put a hand on her lower back to hold her down and delivered several more swift spanks.

  Her breath came out like a sob, but she didn’t speak.

  He ran his callused palm over her red-hot bottom. His finger brushed across her damp panties, and she stiffened. He repeated the tour: around the curve of her ass, across the back of her thigh, up between her legs. He let his middle finger linger there, rubbing lightly.

  “Do you want help with this, Doctor?”

  She appeared to be holding her breath.

  He continued the feather-light caresses. “Yes, or no, Doctor?”

  “Yes.” Her voice sounded strangled.

  He slid his finger under the gusset of her panties to dip it in her juices. Stroking along her slickened folds, he expl
ored the plump labia then flicked her clit.

  She jerked and spread her legs wider.

  He peeled her scrap of panties down to her thighs, where her leggings had bunched up.

  Her pussy was fucking gorgeous. She must have had the hair lasered at some point before she came to Jesel, because the light brown silk was short, as if growing back in. Dew made her slit glossy. He wanted to throw her on her back and suck that little fruit until she screamed. But that might be taking too much. Instead, he worshipped with his fingers—two this time—stroking along her slit, circling up to flick her stiffened clit then back down again. The moisture was unbelievable. It was as if the little doctor was born and bred for sex. Or maybe just for spanking.

  She arched her back, lifting and spreading her bright red bottom. He nearly went dizzy at the sight. His fingers plunged into her depths of their own accord, shoving into the knuckles, then drawing back and shoving in again.

  She cried out, a wanton sound that made his hardened cock throb against her hip. He dipped the middle finger of his other hand into her sopping channel for lubrication, then brought it to her anus.

  She jumped and squeezed her little buns together, listing to the side at his touch there.

  He responded by pumping two fingers into her cunt fast and hard.

  Gasping, she opened her legs wider.

  He removed his fingers completely and circled her clit, rubbing and pinching it.

  Her moans grew louder. She was making too much noise, but he didn’t care. He’d fight off another pack of rye-wolves again in a heartbeat to watch his little doctor come unglued. Lubing his left finger again, he circled her little rosette at the same time he rubbed her clit.

  When her hips bucked, he pinned her down. “Let me in.” His voice sounded hoarse and ragged to his ears.

  She gave a cry of protest.

  “Open for me,” he insisted.

  The tight ring of muscles tightened then relaxed, and he pushed inside.

  She immediately squealed.