Claimed By The Babymaker (Kyrzon Breeding Auction Book 2)

by Luna Voss

  Wrong answer, I guess. Ragga spanks my ass a few more times, and I have to bite my lip to stop myself from vocalizing.

  I don’t know what it is about getting spanked that turns me on, but it really does. Until today, I did not know that about myself.

  Now, though, it’s impossible to ignore. Something about having this strong, dominant hunk of a man treating me this way is tapping into my animal instincts, making me want to be with him in another way entirely. I can feel the warmth spreading from between my legs, and I realize suddenly that I’m getting wet.

  Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no. I do not want Ragga to see that.

  But the way he’s holding me, trapped over his knee with my butt sticking straight up, I don’t know how I’m going to be able to hide it.

  “I learned my lesson,” I whimper, panicking a little.

  “What lesson?” Ragga growls.

  “Not to try to escape from you. Not to go off into the woods alone.”

  Although the position I’m in allows me to do little more than stare at the ground, I can practically hear the smirk in his voice: “And how am I supposed to believe you’ve learned your lesson, when you’ve been moaning out loud the entire time I’ve been spanking you, and your little cunt is so wet it’s starting to soak through your auction clothes?”

  I gasp, my face instantly on fire at his boldness. I can’t believe he just said that to me.

  …But he’s not wrong.

  I don’t say anything, just squirm around in his lap, feeling his warm, hard body under me. His words just turned up my excitement level to a point that’s almost physically uncomfortable. I’m more turned on that I can remember being in a long time, and the fact that I’m practically naked is making everything even more intense.

  It would be so easy for Ragga to touch me anywhere he wanted.

  …Or, y’know, anywhere that I wanted. I can feel my pussy tingling, begging to be touched. All of a sudden, I’m desperate for some kind of stimulation.

  “Look at you, wiggling your little butt around,” Ragga breathes, his mouth suddenly close to my ear. His voice sends shivers through me. My heart is racing.

  The dynamic between us has changed. This doesn’t feel like a punishment anymore.

  “Ask for what you want,” Ragga growls softly. “If you want me to touch that wet little cunt of yours, you need to ask me for it.”

  Fuck, that turns me on so much. I keep squirming in his lap, enjoying the pressure of his muscular thigh against my clit. I want it so badly, but there’s no way I can bear to say the words.

  “Your ass is so plump and round and perfect,” breathes Ragga. “I’ll bet your little human cunt is perfect, too. You’re so wet that your auction clothes are sticking to you, tempting me with the shape of those pink little lips.”

  I shiver. Ragga continues, his breath tickling my neck: “I can tell exactly how bad you want it. Don’t think you can fool me, Lily, not with your cunt swollen and shiny like that. I know exactly how bad you want for me to touch you.”

  I whimper, hanging on his every word. I’m so ready. Ragga can touch me wherever he wants.

  “What was that? he teases me. “I couldn’t hear that.”

  “Please,” I moan.

  “Please, what?”

  “Please, I want you to touch me!”

  Ragga spanks me hard on the ass, and I yelp in surprise.

  “Are you going to run away again?” he growls.

  “No,” I say hurriedly.

  He spanks me again, and I moan, the stinging making all of my intimate parts feel incredibly sensitive.

  “Are we going to have to have this conversation again?”

  “No! I promise.”

  I inhale sharply as I feel Ragga’s fingers stroke my ass. I’ve never had anyone touch me there before. They move lower, tracing my crack, and I feel incredibly naughty as I lie across his lap, letting him do it. His fingers slide down further, onto the wet fabric, the sensation reminding me just what a mess I’ve made of my auction clothes.

  I let out an involuntary gasp as his fingers find the snap at the crotch of my bodysuit. He unsnaps it, and I feel incredibly exposed as he opens my outfit from the bottom, revealing me to him. I’m so turned on that it’s practically painful, my most intimate places swollen with desire.

  Ragga’s fingers trace my slit, spreading my wetness over my lips, and then slide slowly down to my aching clit. He hovers his finger over it, just barely touching me. The almost-there stimulation is maddening. Just a little more pressure would feel so good.

  “This pink little button is what human females experience pleasure from, yes?” Ragga ask me, lightly brushing it with his finger.

  “Yes,” I say, my voice breathy. “Right there.”

  “Yours is very attractive to me,” he tells me, to both my pleasure and embarrassment.

  Ragga’s finger begins to circle my clit, using an increasing amount of pressure. I moan, the sensation immediately overpowering. Being touched by someone else is so different from doing it on my own. Not having control over the stimulation is thrilling.

  I arch my back, feeling the pleasure build. I’m so turned on that every movement of his finger is incredible, overwhelming. I can feel my ass stinging from where he spanked me, and it merges with the pleasure, making everything more intense.

  “Yes,” I gasp, starting to lose myself in the moment. “Ragga, that feels so good.”

  He uses his other hand to give my ass a squeeze, and he keeps fingering me. I buck my hips, desperate to increase the sensation. Dimly, I become aware of an orgasm brewing.

  The awareness of my impending climax hits me out of nowhere, surprising me. I’d known that I was turned on, but usually an orgasm is something that takes me at least like ten minutes of rubbing myself, plus some careful fantasizing, to achieve. Meanwhile, I’m not even sure it’s been ten minutes since Ragga first started spanking me.

  I moan loudly, barely able to control myself. I start to squirm around, the motions more or less involuntary, and Ragga holds me tightly on his lap, keeping my pussy in place for his fingers. The pleasure keeps mounting. He’s using just the right amount of pressure on my clit, keeping up the same steady rhythm.

  I don’t think I can take it much longer.

  Ragga’s deep voice rumbles into my ear: “I want to see your little human cunt come for me, Lily.”

  Oh fuck.

  My moan turns into a throaty whimper as my orgasm hits me. I feel my pussy convulsing, throbbing against his fingers, and wave after wave of pleasure begins to surge through me. My hands scramble around for something to grab, tearing chunks of grass out of the forest floor. Ragga grips my ass tightly with his free hand, his fingers digging into my soft flesh, his touch possessive as my body twitches in climax.

  Finally, the pleasure begins to fade. I lie slumped over Ragga’s knee, my legs feeling like jelly, my pussy twitching with the aftershocks of my orgasm.

  Ragga’s hand claps down on my butt cheek. Not a spank, more of a pat. “Now, what did we learn about running away?” he asks me softly.

  Chapter Twelve

  I snap closed the crotch of my bodysuit, feeling awkward. Ragga and I haven’t said anything to each other since he let me off of his lap. He sits on the log where he just finished spanking me, holding my leash as I fix my clothes. My ass is still singing.

  My feelings toward Ragga are a lot more confusing after what we just experienced together. I can’t deny my attraction to him, that’s for sure. The way my body responded to his touch was electric. I can still feel my pussy tingling, the physical memory of his fingers touching me still fresh.

  Ragga may be my captor, but now, I feel a weird kind of intimacy with him. He’s already saved my life twice today, and he just made me come harder than I ever have in my life. Not only that, I asked him to do it.

  And that’s not even to mention him bending me over his knee and giving me a spanking.

  The memory of Ragga’s cool, casual domin
ance as he spanked my bottom intrigues me very much. Not to mention, turns me on. He’d been so in control. He didn’t go too hard, and he clearly wasn’t attempting to cause me real pain or damage.

  He was trying to teach me a lesson.

  And as much as I might, in theory, resent the idea of me, a grown woman, being disciplined in such a manner, I can’t deny that it had an impact on me.

  Although maybe not the one he intended.

  Of course, that’s all Ragga’s fault. If he really wanted to punish me, he probably shouldn’t have rubbed my pussy until I came on his fingers.

  Maybe next time, I can get the same result without having to earn a punishment first.

  Oh, how times have changed. Just a couple of days ago, I was dreading the idea of being mated to a Kyrzon.

  Now, all I can think about is just how badly I want this particular Kyrzon to touch me again.

  And maybe next time, with more than just his fingers.

  “Are you ready to start walking again?” Ragga grunts, standing up from the log.

  “Yes,” I say, wanting to seem obedient. As fun as that spanking might have been, right now, I feel a strong desire for Ragga and I to be on the same team.

  He nods at me, and we start to walk through the jungle.

  Ragga isn’t saying much, and he also isn’t meeting my eyes. It seems like he’s feeling awkward about what we just did together.

  “Is it common for Kyrzons to spank their women?” I ask him as we walk, trying to dance around the subject.

  “Kyrzon women, no,” he grunts. “A Kyrzon female would rip my head off for trying.”

  I’ve never seen a Kyrzon female before. I tuck the knowledge into the back of my head.

  “What about human Brides?” I ask, fishing. “Do you spank your Bride at home the same way you punished me?”

  The knowledge of what happened after the spanking lingers between us, unspoken.

  “I have no Bride,” says Ragga. “And if I did, I would not spank her. Not unless she wanted me to, that is.”

  “But you spanked me.”

  “That was a special case. You needed to learn a lesson. I can’t have you running off and getting devoured by a blackfang. It was for your protection.”

  “And after you were done spanking me, when you… touched me? I suppose that was for my protection, too?”

  My words hang in the air. I glance at Ragga, and I’m surprised to see that his cheeks are actually a little bit red.

  Is he embarrassed?

  Ragga doesn’t look at me as he answers: “That was a mistake,” he growls. “Nothing like that can ever happen between us again.”

  * * *

  I have to admit, I’m a little indignant that Ragga is still keeping me on a leash after the intimate experience we just had together. You’d think he might trust me a little more, considering he just had his fingers in between my legs.

  Although, to be fair to him, I suppose the two things aren’t necessarily that closely connected in his mind. And it’s not like I’ve given him much of a reason to trust me.

  As we travel through the afternoon, I express my frustration in the only way I can: by going out of my way to walk in front of him, swinging my hips, doing everything I can to tempt him.

  If he’s decided that what happened between us was a mistake, I’m determined to make him regret it.

  I don’t exactly know what the endgame of my plan is supposed to be, but the general premise of what I’m trying to do seems to be working. Every time I glance over my shoulder at him, I see his eyes jump from my ass to somewhere more appropriate. As the day goes on, his ability to compose himself seems to diminish, and I notice that he’s going out of his way to touch me, holding my waist as he helps me over obstacles.

  As we’re walking, I pretend to trip, and Ragga reaches out to catch me, putting both his arms around me as he does so. I lean against him, encouraging the contact. He keeps his hands on my body several seconds longer than is necessary, putting on a lame act of making sure I’ve found my footing.

  I decide to try to use the capital I’m building with him: “You know, this really would be a lot easier if you untied my hands,” I suggest, trying to sound casual. “Is keeping my wrists tied really still necessary?”

  He looks at me appraisingly, and then laughs. “Completely necessary.”

  “You really think I’m going to run away again?”

  “I think you might. You’ve already done it twice.”

  “Even after what happened earlier?”

  He doesn’t meet my eyes. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  I’m ready to throw back a retort, but I don’t actually have a good answer. I fall silent, thinking about it.

  “Would Lurkka be mad if he knew?” I ask after a minute or two.

  “I believe if Lurkka knew, he would kill both of us,” says Ragga quietly. “And Chief Broga would let him.”

  “Then why did you do it?”

  Ragga stops walking, and I do the same. He turns to face me, and this time, he does look me in the eyes. He opens his mouth, and then closes it. It seems like he’s thinking very carefully about what he wants to say next.

  “I find you… difficult to resist,” he tells me finally.

  “Why?”

  He hesitates, and for a moment, it looks like there’s something he wants to say.

  And then he keeps walking, signaling me to do the same with a gentle tug on the leash.

  “No more questions,” he grunts.

  * * *

  The air starts to get a lot colder as we continue to travel. Soon, I’m shivering in my auction clothes, and wondering how it’s possible that this morning, it was warm enough for me to swim.

  “We are near to a Clan Broga resource cache,” Ragga tells me, noticing. “We can stop there and get you some new clothes.”

  I nod gratefully. Ragga takes me to a place in the forest with a tall tree that looks like it’s been struck by lightning. At the base of the tree is a large rock. I glare at him as he ties my leash to a branch, and then climbs up the tree. I’m amazed at how easily he scales it, his strength allowing him to effortlessly lift himself from one branch to another. He reaches a spot near the top of the tree, where there is a big, charred hole.

  “Look out!” he calls down to me.

  A moment later, a large crate drops to the ground on the other side of the tree.

  Ragga climbs down and unlocks it. It contains food, knives, a bow and a quiver of arrows, and what seems to be a bundle of clothing, including a fur cloak. Ragga takes the food, as well as the bow and arrows, and then hands me several Kyrzon-sized articles of clothing.

  “Are you going to untie my hands?” I say, offering him my wrists.

  “I already told you. No.”

  “Well, I don’t know how you expect me to put these clothes on with my hands tied together.”

  Ragga thinks about it for a moment, and then seems to grudgingly realize that I’m right.

  “Okay,” he says. “I’ll untie your hands.”

  He does so. I spread my arms wide, relieved to be able to move them again. Ragga watches me with his eyebrows raised, as though he’s waiting for me to start getting dressed.

  “You’re going to turn around when I change, right?” I say, staring at him pointedly

  “Nope,” he replies. “Because when I turn around, you’ll be sprinting through the woods into the jaws of a tusk-bear or something. I’m not going to take my eyes off of you until you’re back on the leash.”

  “I’m not going to try to escape,” I say, rolling my eyes.

  “That’s right,” says Ragga. “Now put these clothes on, or I’ll tie your wrists again.”

  It’s ridiculous that this embarrasses me, considering I spent the whole afternoon swinging my hips in front of him, but I feel the heat creep into my cheeks as I realize that Ragga isn’t going to change his mind. Slowly, and very aware of his eyes on me, I begin to peel off my bodysuit.
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br />   Ragga can’t hide the desire on his face as I first bare my breasts, and then my lower half. His eyes remain fixed on the little patch of blonde curls between my legs as my auction suit comes off entirely. I now stand naked before him, the air very cool on my skin, feeling goosebumps spread over me at the intensity of his gaze.

  I bite my lip. The way Ragga is looking at me makes me feel sexy. Powerful, even. It’s like every fiber of him wants to have me. I find the courage to make eye contact with him, and whatever it is that passes between us is enough to make me shiver.

  I put on the pants, tunic, and fur cloak. They’re absolutely gigantic on me, and I have to the cuff the pants several times over just to make it possible to walk in them. Ragga comes over and assists me with the cloak, helping to wrap it around me and then fasten it in the front. The sleeves are so long that he has to dig around in them considerably to find my wrists. He ties them together as he did before, standing close enough to me that I can feel his warmth.

  “We travel until dark, and then we make camp,” he tells me, tying the leather cord to his belt once again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It isn’t very long before the light begins to fade. Ragga finds an appropriate spot, an elevated area with relatively flat ground, drops his pack, and then drives a stake into the ground, which he attaches to my leash.

  I give him the evil eye as he finishes tying the leather cord to the stake. “Okay, do you seriously think this is nec—”

  He interrupts me, his tone exasperated: “Yes, I seriously think this is necessary. It’s completely necessary. I swear if you ask me that again, you’re going to get another spanking.”

  I’m tempted to tell him that I would be okay with that, but I bite my tongue. I’m annoyed at him for tying me up like this, like I’m a pet.

  Ragga pull some materials out of his pack and begins to put up a tent. I watch as he drives more stakes into the ground, and then uses some thick branches from the trees nearby as supports.

  “Is this how the Kyrzons make all their tents?” I ask him, genuinely curious. I’ve seen the cities of Kyrzon tents that pop up around New Sutter for the auctions countless times, but I’ve never actually thought much about how they set them up.