Page 34 of Kenan's Mate
“Tears keep you sweet. Pain keeps you sweet. Having a healthy fear of your mate keeps you sweet and submissive and always ready to be taken.”
I shake my head against the covers. “No, it doesn’t. I’m not like Kleaxian females, Kenan. I’m not.I’m not, I’m not, I’m not.” Yet, even as I protest, I understand his meaning, and maybe, maybe, I’m more like Kleaxian females than I would like to admit.
My clit throbs and throbs, and beneath me, my nipples ache to be touched, the hardened points sensitive against the bedcovers. I’m hot all over and long for him to sink his rigid cock into me and start pounding away. At the same time, my bottom cheeks tingle in anticipation of that first stinging smack.
The light slaps to my face had been a tease and awakened a part of me I’m only now becoming truly aware of. Before this moment, I had tried to deny this awakening, tried to ignore it. But in a dark part of my mind, a part I’ve been trying to close myself off from, I wish he’d slapped my face harder minutes ago. Not hard enough to knock me down or cause real damage, but hard enough to allow the sting to last more than a few seconds. Hard enough to send a sharp wave of endorphins rushing my head at the very instant a blast of heat seizes my feminine core. How odd, that a hard slap might produce the same submissive euphoria that his gentleness in the wake of his roughness can. But when I fantasize about him slapping me harder, this is how I imagine it will feel, and these thoughts only increase my longing for Kenan.
Fucked updoesn’t even begin to describe what’s happened to me since I’ve become the captive mate of this huge alien prince. But maybe this is the only way I’ll find a glimmer of happiness on Tallia—if I stop trying to shield myself from Kenan and surrender to the deliciousfucked upnessof our relationship.
“Laylah,” he finally says, “you are more like a Kleaxian female than you realize.”
I know. I already know it.
He smears my hot arousal up and down my inner thighs, demonstrating how wet I’ve become in the anxious yet delicious buildup of a promised spanking.
Of promised pain.
“Kenan, please. Please don’t make it hurt too much. Please be gentle.” Though I crave it, I also have a need to at least try to control it, despite knowing he won’t be swayed by my words. I want him to hurt me, but not too badly.
His hand leaves my bottom and I tense, expecting that first slap to fall at any moment.
“You can have your gentleness, Laylah, but not until I have your tears.”
Chapter Sixteen
Kenan starts spanking me slowly, with a long pause in between each modest slap. I suspect he’s warming me up for the harsher smacks that will undoubtedly follow. He’s promised to make me cry, after all, and I believe he will succeed.
He occasionally pauses to prod the entrance of my pussy and even rub my clit. I start panting and thrusting my center against his hand because I seriously need to come. But when he strands me on the edge of a blissful precipice, stopping before that first wave of ecstasy washes over me, I flail and cry out in frustration.
The spanks become harder, and the pauses to fondle my sex soon cease. My bottom cheeks are ablaze and I start squirming frantically, trying to escape his descending palm. But he holds me securely and doesn’t miss a beat as he spanks harder and faster.
“Please, Kenan. It hurts.” I sniffle and stop struggling. There’s no use. He’s so much larger and stronger than me. If he wants to spank me until the sun rises tomorrow, I won’t be able to stop him.
A sob breaks from me, and the first tears escape my eyes. I don’t try to hold back my crying, and there’s something freeing in not holding back. My shoulders heave as I hiccup through the torrent of tears. Kenan forces my legs wider apart and applies a series of especially hard smacks to my inner thighs.
Oh my God, it fucking hurts. But I trust him not to take it too far.
The spanks stop falling and he commences rubbing my flaming bottom cheeks, caressing my sore flesh as I remain obediently in place over his lap.
“You were a very good girl, Laylah, taking your spanking so well. I’m proud of you, and I hope you’ll submit to me, come to me willingly and place yourself over my lap, or wherever I tell you to lie down, should you earn a real punishment. Do you think you will be able to do that?”
“I-I will try.” In my heart, though, if I think he intends to hurt me especially bad, even draw blood as he’s threatened before, I don’t think I’ll be able to submit. I will try to run, and then I will only get into deeper trouble. I start crying harder because I hope that day never comes. Why must our love be so fragile?
Love?My heart skips a beat. I didn’t really think that word.I didn’t.
“Shh, Laylah. Your spanking is over.” He turns me over on his lap and wraps his huge arms around me. I nestle against his chest, soaking up the gentleness he promised I would receive after my tears.
He wipes the remaining moisture from my face and kisses my forehead. His lips are tender and warm.
“I normally won’t spank you so hard when it’s not a punishment, little human,” he says, gliding his thumb over my cheek, right over the spot he’d slapped earlier, “but it’s been a while since I’ve seen your tears.”
“Why? Why do you like my tears?” I ask, even as more of them fill my eyes, and even though I think I know the answer.
A long period of silence stretches between us, so long that I think he’s decided to ignore my question. Perhaps it’s only the reason he gave me earlier—that tears and pain keep me sweet and submissive with a healthy fear of my mate. If there’s more to it, though, I want to know.
Finally, he says, “There are many reasons. Power is one. I’m your lord and master, little human. I hold complete authority over you. I own you, all of you, even your tears.” He kisses my forehead again. “A good cry also cleanses your spirit and leaves your soul completely bared to me. Then once you’re vulnerable and stripped before me, I am the one to comfort you, to care for you in the aftermath of your tears and your pain. I wish you could see yourself from my eyes and know how breathtakingly beautiful you are during these times, when you’re crying.”
I think it’s the most honest thing he’s ever said to me. He could’ve stayed quiet, or he could have given me an evasive answer or a flat-out lie, but he confessed a truth from his heart, even if the truth is partly dark. Because, to make me cry, he must inflict pain.
