Page 14 of Tornn's Mate
I want to scream. I want to dive off his lap and shake a censorious finger at him for pointing out my helpless state of need. I can’t control my urges; they keep coming as naturally as breathing. Yet he’s basking in my desperation, taking pleasure in the fact that I’m soaking wet and quaking with need even as he prepares to smack my bottom.
He withdraws his hand from my clit and gives my left cheek a firm, resounding swat. The sudden impact stuns me, and the sting instantly spreads, the pain so much worse than I expected. “Answer me,” he says in a sharp, commanding tone.
“Yes, I-I’m aching again, and my clit is throbbing.” My voice breaks over the last few words, and I’m certain my face has never felt so hot. I imagine if I looked in a mirror, my entire visage would be bright red.
“If you’re a good little female during your spanking,” he says, his long fingers venturing close to my bottom hole as he caresses my ass, “I’ll bring you to another release once we’re finished. Submit to me as gracefully as you can, sweet human, and you’ll be rewarded.”
Before I have time to process his statement, he lifts his hand and brings his flattened palm down across both my cheeks. The sting takes my breath away.
Chapter6
TORNN
After I deliverthe second smack, I pause and rub Ellie’s bottom. I can’t resist the action. I want to touch her heated flesh and watch her puckering back hole wink at me as I pull one of her cheeks to the side. I can’t help but wonder about that tiny, snug entrance of hers.
If I train her properly, perhaps with a set of plugs in increasing size, will she eventually manage to accept one of my cocks in her ass?
The idea of claiming her with both my cocks at the same time leaves me sweltering with need. Perspiration trickles down my temple. My vision blurs and my shafts pulse in the confines of my pants, my scrotum vibrating at full speed.
Satisfaction fills me as I lift my hand from her ass and examine the redness marring her flesh. I swat her again, a bit lighter this time, my palm covering her entire bottom. More redness blooms, and I continue spanking her, watching as she squirms slightly and her thighs part wider, revealing the gleam of her increasing arousal.
Her movements are so faint that I couldn’t call it disobedience. Besides, I can’t deny I’m enjoying her movements. Each time she wiggles around, she rubs against my raging hard appendages. The friction is driving me mad with longing.
I want to flip her onto the bed, grasp her hips, and plunge deep into her wetness. I want to hold her down and pound her until she screams herself hoarse in the throes of a pulsating climax. A vision of her laying on the bed, panting breathlessly in the aftermath of our first mating session as my seed leaks from her core, causes my blood to heat to feverish levels.
I give her three more smacks, bringing the count to twenty moderately hard blows delivered to her little bottom. Just enough to leave her sore and red for a while. Enough to show her what she can expect if she ever earns a real punishment at my hand.
She’s breathing hard, but I don’t think she’s crying. I listen carefully as I resume rubbing her ass. Eventually, her breathing starts to regulate, and she emits a sigh that’s tinged with relief. No doubt she’s thankful the demonstration has come to an end.
“Should you ever disobey me, Ellie, or show me disrespect, you can expect a much longer, much more severe thrashing.” I pause, allowing my words to settle over her. “I also have no tolerance for lies. If you ever lie to me, sweet human, I won’t hesitate to take a whip to your bottom. I’m your master, and you are not permitted to keep any secrets from me.”
She tenses and sucks in a rapid breath, though she gradually relaxes as I continue caressing her punished cheeks.
I tuck her hair behind an ear, better revealing the side of her face, allowing me to glimpse her expression. She glances over her shoulder, peering at me with adorably pleading eyes as she lifts her bottom to meet my hand.
Her thighs fall wider apart, and the scent of her arousal heightens in the air, the sweetest perfume I’ve ever inhaled. I muse that I could get drunk on the scent of her alone, that with one brief glance I could lose myself in the very essence of her soul, I couldfluxxingdrown.
As warmth swells in my chest, I turn her over on my lap and cradle her in my arms, keeping one hand on her bottom, cupping her heated cheeks and occasionally squeezing them.
Our eyes meet and I don’t understand why the moment lasts and lasts, seeming to transcend time itself.
To my amazement, the ancestral markings on my chest start tingling. I know what it means—or rather, what it’ssupposedto mean—but it can’t be possible. Ellie is human. There is no way a traditional Darrvason mating bond will ever form between us. No way she’ll wear my ancestral markings on her arms.
But as I peer down at her and stroke her hair and squeeze her freshly-spanked buttocks, a fierce possessiveness for her ignites inside me.
All I can think about is claiming her.
Ravishing her to completion.
Because if I cover her with my scent, filling her thoroughly with my seed, she’ll be protected even without the ancestral markings. No other Darrvason male would dare walk too close to her, let alone touch her.
Not that I have any plans to allow her to leave my quarters until we’ve copulated at least fifty times. I reason that will be enough to keep all other males away.
I have clear memories of newly mated females in my village being stolen away because their mate’s scent wasn’t strong enough to dissuade other males—because the female’s husband let her roam too freely too soon. Before he fully saturated her with his masculine essenceandbefore the ancestral markings had a chance to appear on her arms.
I remember the beating of drums that would precedelahhkda—a battle to the death between the first male and the challenging one. I remember the roar of the spectators and the blood spilling in the streets. I also remember my father making me watch every moment of the fighting as he lectured me on the proper way to keep a wife safe.
It seems like a lifetime ago since I traversed the streets of the village I grew up in, and an unexpected melancholy pangs in my chest. I’m quick to push it away. There is no point in ruminating over the past. My village is gone, and I’m no longer the small, curious child I once was.
