After a terrible illness decimates the male population of her planet, Trielle is left with no choice but to visit the distant world of Zyntari to beg for their help in rebuilding her civilization. Upon her arrival the warrior chief Zorran agrees to aid Trielle, but he demands something in return.
Though Trielle is innocent in the ways of men, she is transfixed by the handsome, incredibly possessive brute, and she cannot help wondering what it would mean to belong to Zorran completely. A stern spanking soon teaches her that even the slightest defiance will be soundly punished and a night in his bed leaves her sore, spent, and shamefully satisfied, but when an enemy who opposes their union seeks to harm Trielle can Zorran keep his mate safe?
Author: Poppy Flynn
eBook Price: Kindle Unlimited/$4.95
Length: 76,000 words
The next second, she found herself hauled over his muscled thighs. He ripped her underwear away, snapping the flimsy fabric in a single wrench of his strong hand and sending a frisson of what she now knew was arousal shivering through her entire body. A moment later that same broad palm that brought so much pleasure was setting fire to her ass.
She squealed and kicked her legs instinctively, but Zorran just clamped them between his own.
“Naughty girls get spanked,” he told her with a hint of amusement in his voice as he peppered each cheek with a fervent volley of swats.
Trielle stiffened and automatically clenched her burning buttocks against each stinging strike, high pitched yelps falling from her lips with each blistering crack against her tender skin. It was almost as if the impact tore them from her throat and caused them to resound throughout the sparse room in a cacophony of sin and debauchery that Zorran both created and orchestrated. A deviant soundtrack as a background accompaniment to licentious wantonness.
“Relax,” Zorran ordered, pausing briefly to run his palm across the fiery flush that now painted her behind. The slight pressure made her skin tingle in an all too confusing response which Trielle couldn’t distinguish as being pleasure or pain. Still it had the desired effect because she could feel her whole body become pliant and yielding under his mollifying touch.
She had been lulled into a different kind of headspace when he resumed the spanking; one that she couldn’t quite explain. But somehow her body remained relaxed and pliable under the blistering heat of his hand as he set her ass ablaze once again. And this time it felt different too. She could feel her butt bounce with each prickly, painful smack and she still suffered the sharp, agonising torment and the intense, searing blaze of his all-consuming punishment, but somehow, instead of feeling brutalised, she felt cherished. It was a paradox that she couldn’t begin to comprehend, not when his harsh touch ignited such an urgent and fevered arousal to add to her torment, so she simply accepted the anomaly.
Her body was limp despite the scorching anguish Zorran thrashed out onto her flesh and the fat, salty tears that squeezed from tear ducts unused to crying. The singeing glow seemed to just permeate every part of her body, tightening her nipples into painfully taut buds which craved his touch. Incinerating every inch of flesh, not just where his rough hand fell.
Whenever there was a chance that it might become more than she could bear, when the myriad of sensations became too much, he instinctively eased up, caressing her smarting cheeks and rubbing away the pain. Or perhaps he was rubbing in the pain, spreading it out, forcing her to experience the smouldering ambience in every atom of her mind, body, and soul.
She became aware that her yelps had morphed into pleading, whimpering sounds as everything inside her demanded more.
“P-please, please, Zorran,” she begged, not sure exactly what she was begging for.