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“You will endure it, Jenny, just as you endured the first spanking I gave you.” I continue caressing her cheeks. “But I’m not punishing you because you were rude to me, little female. In fact, this isn’t really a punishment at all.”
Her eyes go wider. “But then…why? Why are you doing this? Why are you hurting me?”
I give her a light smack that’s barely hard enough to make a noise. Her breath catches and she squirms over my lap. “Because I want to conquer you, Jenny. Because I want to watch your bottom redden under my hand as you whimper and moan, and yes, even cry. Because I’m certain that despite all your bravado, there’s a part of you that’s aching to surrender to me. Because I know that despite the pain and embarrassment, your pussy is going to become drenched and even more swollen than it already is.”
She turns around and shakes her head, causing her silken dark locks to shift over her shoulders. “No, I’m not aching for it. I-I’m not. I don’t want this, and I’m begging you to stop. I’m begging you to let me go.”
I trail a hand down her back, then lightly touch her crevice, though I don’t quite touch her pucker. Instead, I trace my finger through her slit and draw her moisture outward, coating her smooth folds with the glimmering proof of her arousal. My shafts harden further, and my balls vibrate so intensely, I know she must feel it. “You can beg all you like, little female, but no amount of pleading will save you from the spanking you have coming. I’m going to redden your bottom, and I’m going to make you cry, and your pussy is going to become so swollen and wet, that in the end, you’ll beg me to touch you. You’ll beg me to stroke you to a climax.”
“No, no, no.”
“Yes.”
I lift my hand and bring it down sharply across her cheeks. She gasps and squirms, but I tighten my grip on her and continue thrashing her, my flattened palm descending again and again with increasing force and speed.
Chapter15
JENNY
My bottom is a raginginferno of pain, and I feel helpless as Brute keeps spanking me. And this isn’t even a punishment. He’s doing this because he wants to. Because it excites him and because he thinks it excites me. I suspect he liked hearing me beg him to stop.
As I’d pleaded with him, his shafts had grown noticeably larger and harder, and I’d also detected the vibration of his scrotum.
He's a terrible beast, and I cannot allow him to claim me.
And yet… I’m so unsettled that I have difficulty catching my breath. My center is throbbing, and I can feel wetness escaping my nether folds to trickle on to my inner thighs. Shame heats me all over. Why does his brutality arouse me? Why does the pain, awful as it is, only seem to heighten my desire for him to caress me between my thighs? My intense desire for a climax?
I sniffle as the tears start falling, hating that he’s making me cry. But it’s not just the pain that’s causing my tears, it’s my frustration with myself and the conflicted feelings I harbor for Brute.
I’d worried about him during the rebel attack. I’d worried about him just as much as I’d worried about Ellie, and this realization is a shock to my system. It doesn’t make sense. It’s ludicrous.
Maybe he’ll lose interest in me. Maybe if I make a point to avoid him, he’ll realize I’ll never return his affections. Surely he can select a human woman from the group of one hundred that’ll be given to the Darrvasons soon. Or from the latter group of two thousand.
Then my stomach flips as I recall his promise—his promise that he would make sure I was in the group of one hundred. That he would find a way to put me on the list, and if he couldn’t, he would simply carry me off and claim me.
He’s Admiral Tornn’s cousin. Maybe that means he has more authority than the average Darrvason. Maybe it means he can truly do as he pleases, even if his actions push the limits of the alliance.
He pauses spanking and cups my bottom. I sniffle and try to hold back the tears, but dammit they just keep coming. A sense of vulnerability falls over me, as well as the unwanted but intense desire to surrender to Brute. To part my thighs wider and invite him to touch me. To sink to my knees and… what? I’m not sure.
All I know is that I’m experiencing the overwhelming urge to please the huge, domineering barbarian. To obey his commands even if I don’t agree with him.
“Shh,” he says, and I realize I’m still sniffling. Still crying.
But isn’t that what he wants? He’d said he wanted to make me cry, though I can’t imagine for what reason. I tell myself it’s because he’s cruel, but I don’t quite believe it. Maybe it’s part of the surrender he’s seeking from me.
He spends a long time caressing my punished cheeks, and I can’t claim it doesn’t feel good. He rubs the sting away, his touch so gentle it brings more tears to my eyes. Dammit. I really need to stop crying. Another wave of shame rushes through me. How can I be brave and defiant and resist him if I’m an emotional mess?
He sits me upright on his lap and immediately sets himself to the task of kissing and licking away my tears. I’m too stunned to move, though I wince and whimper because sitting down on anything hurts, but his lap isn’t exactly a comfortable seat because his hard appendages are directly beneath me. But a second later, I feel the vibration of his balls, and I draw in a quick, shaky breath as the heat pummeling my core deepens.
He cups my face and stares into my eyes. He gives me a profound look that fills my heart with hope. The hope that maybe he has a gentle side. The hope that maybe he’s not always a beast. For a split second, I actually entertain the idea of accepting him. Of telling him I want to belong to him, because at this moment, his arms are the sweetest refuge.
He brushes the last of my tears away with his thumbs and proceeds to stroke my hair. The vibrations increase, and I’m starting to have trouble sitting still. The urge to gyrate on his lap is becoming so strong, I’m not certain how much longer I can hold out.
As I press my thighs tightly together, I feel the moisture rubbing between them, and I flush as I realize I’m probably making a big wet spot on the front of his pants. How utterly embarrassing. Will he mind? Will he scold me for it?
“I’m going to place you on the bench, little female,” he says in a low, rumbling tone, “and you’re going to drape your legs over my shoulders. I’m going to feast on you and lick you until you climax on my tongue, again and again, until you’re so weak from the pleasure that you can barely move.”
I open my mouth to protest, but he reaches underneath me and squeezes my sore bottom, causing me to gasp and reminding me what will happen if I disobey. I don’t want another spanking, so what choice do I have? Although that line of thought feels like a lie because the truth is, I’m very much intrigued by what he plans to do.
