Stormy Night Publications Publishers of BDSM and Kink Erotica
He fell silent. Sinking into the tree sounds, she stopped trying to hold up her head and again let the ground support her. The pressure caused by the crotch fabric had let up a little, but she was still aware of the tension there. Still reacted to it.
“You really know the jungle, do you?” The intense question caught her unprepared. “All its trails and dangers.”
Danger? Yes, there was that in the form of great cats, powerful constricting reptiles, and savage beasts with deadly tusks, but she prided herself on having learned how to watch for them. As a result, she embraced the thick, rich vegetation for what it had always been, a continual source of nearly everything the Qasim needed to live.
At least it had been before the Karhia destroyed—
“No secrets, Saasa! Whatever I ask, you will answer.” He punctuated his command by forcing a finger inside her sex.
The suddenness of the invasion took a heartbeat to register. It belatedly struck her that he expected and wanted her to fight. Despite what he was doing to her, she was grateful for the message behind his intimate gesture because it left no doubt of the difference between them. He was her conqueror, she his helpless subject. There was no need for her to pretend to be anything except what she was, for now.
“Listen to what I have to say.” His finger remained inside her, still and yet potent with possibilities. “I have a need for you. Whatever it takes to accomplish my goal, I’ll make it happen. Fight me and you will regret you were ever born. Comply and I’ll let you go.”
Eventually, she heard even though he hadn’t said the word. What would happen until then and why should she believe him? How would he handle her and could she possibly keep her wits about her, her body in check? “What do you want?”
“You’ll learn soon enough. For now…”
Sensing new tension in him, she surmised that he was taking in his surroundings. No wonder, since he was in a world he’d never seen.
“Who is here with you?” he demanded.
“No one. I—”
“Don’t lie!” His finger rammed deeper into her. Her ass cheeks were being pushed apart by the rest of his hand, and if it hadn’t been for her bonds, she would have spread herself for him—not because she wanted but because her raw response left her with no choice.
“I’m not lying. I came on my own.”
“You? A female? No man would allow that to happen.”
Maybe not where he came from, but Qasim women were taught how to fight and defend just as men were. With so many nomadic tribes intent on attacking and stealing from them, it was vital. Most women compensated for their smaller size by becoming swift runners as she’d done, and were masters when it came to tracking and knife work. She couldn’t comprehend revealing so much about her people to him, but she wanted him to understand she was more than a small bird caught in a net.
But she was caught. Unable to expel his arrogant finger or quiet her response to it. She had no doubt her sex juices were giving her away.
“You have nothing to say?” he asked, still pushing and moving his finger about as if determined to learn everything about that part of her body. “Is it because you know I won’t believe your lies?”
An energy that put her in mind of the lava boiling up from Lamis’ depths and erupting from the mountain Firescream shook her. Was fear blending with arousal and stripping her of self-control? Maybe his brief spanking had already made an impact. “I am not lying,” she repeated. She paused to gather what she could of her senses. “You chased me for a long time. Did you see anyone else?”
“That means nothing.”
He bent his finger so the tip scraped along the front of her pussy wall. The instant he touched the spot that turned her into a mindless creature in heat, she howled and began bucking as much as she could.
“What the—”
“Stop it! Please, stop.”
Instead of heeding her plea, he pressed down on her hip to hold her in place. When she stopped her useless struggling, he again stroked the place where reason ended and fire began. Despite herself, she howled again. Release! A climax! Only a touch away!
“What is this, Saasa? Are you in pain?”
“Yes!” she lied.
His grunt plainly said he wasn’t sure whether he believed her, but to her absolute relief and disappointment, the sensual probing ceased. Panting, she fought her tense muscles. Waited.
All her life she’d believed she was as strong and resilient as any warrior. Granted, she’d long had to deal with her hypersexual nature, but most of the time she saw it as one of the benefits of being a woman. Climaxes came easily to her, perhaps too easily, but the truth was she didn’t care. She loved her woman’s body. Her scarred heart was something else.
She’d not counted on her response to being helpless before a powerful man who didn’t hesitate to punish what he saw as unacceptable behavior. Instead of hating the newcomer for what he was doing to her, she longed to experience even more of his control. To surrender her independence and body.
What was she becoming?
When he slowly removed his finger, she said a silent goodbye to the incredible if unwanted sensation and started trying to convince herself that she would never embrace submission. Then he started doing something to her ropes and she stopped listening to the argument.
Any hope she had that he was going to release her died when he only removed the tie holding her arms and legs together. She took a chance on straightening her limbs as much as possible. A burning sensation at the base of her neck and down her spine served as testament to how deeply he’d bowed her.
“There.” He punctuated his comment by swatting her nearly bare ass cheek. “There are many ways of demonstrating mastery over a prisoner. Some are deadly. However, I prefer what I call a more subtle approach. Answer me something.” He slapped her again in the same place. “Were you spanked as a child?”
Yes, but only rarely because—
“I asked a question.” He struck her hard enough that she felt the impact throughout her. “I expect a prompt and honest answer. Otherwise…” He peppered her already stinging buttock with countless blows.
Driven to distraction by the humiliating and oddly fascinating treatment, she threw her full strength into trying to roll away from him. Instead of letting her believe she had any say in what was happening, he grabbed her hair and pulled up on it, arching her neck and easily holding her in place.
He said nothing as he vigorously spanked her for the second time since capturing her. The sharp thuds made it impossible for her to hear anything else while pain built upon pain until there was nothing left of her. He seemed to be holding back nothing, striking her with all his strength but not acting as if he were angry. Her years of warrior training evaporated under the harsh punishment, and she started whimpering.
The attack continued, quick yet measured blows perhaps designed to break her down. She started to fall apart, to lose pieces of herself, to despair of the spanking ever ending.
“Please, please, please,” she chanted. Her voice was high and yet frail, lost. “Please, please stop. I can’t—please stop.”
He was breathing nearly as hard as she was when, long moments later, he let go of her hair and flattened both of his hands on her punished cheeks. Her flesh throbbed and burned under his palms and she had no choice but to acknowledge what he’d accomplished.
He’d branded her with proof of his power.
“I trust you will never forget this lesson,” he said. “I can and will repeat it any time I believe it is necessary.”
She didn’t need him to say a word to understand what was behind the harsh punishment. As he’d just demonstrated, the spanking was a lesson—one her body and mind would remember for her entire life. For now at least she belonged to him. Was his to handle as he saw fit.
The pressure on her stinging buttocks let up a little, but not enough that she dared delude herself that the worst was over. It might be. He might believe she didn’t need a continuation of what he’d subjected her to.
However, he might be looking for an excuse to reduce her to helpless tears.
Horrified by the thought, she blinked her eyes. They burned, but thankfully she discovered she hadn’t cried. That, more than her beaten ass, would be her undoing.
“Maybe we’ll talk about this later,” he said. “But maybe it won’t be necessary. That’s up to you.”
She’d begged and pleaded while he was spanking her. Now she couldn’t think of anything to say, trusted no words.
“I’m not sure how I feel about your silence,” he continued. “But I’ll let it go for now because other things are more important.”
To her shock, after taking his hands off her too-hot buttocks, he gently massaged her shoulders. Despite her attempt not to let it happen, she relaxed a little. After being treated so harshly, any kindness was welcome. Then he rolled her onto her back and she got her first clear look at him.
He wasn’t just large. Densely muscled with long, mane-like black hair, wide shoulders, and big, strong hands, he was everything she’d always wanted a man to be. Qasim men weren’t particularly tall, and as they aged, they carried more and more weight, particularly in their bellies and buttocks. It wasn’t enough to make them ugly, but the idea of growing old alongside a fat husband had added to her lack of interest in taking a long-time companion. Sex was one thing, especially with a young and strong man filled with potent seed, but why should she agree to spread her legs every time some fat-bellied man jerked his head at her?
This Jumaane traveler would lose some of his strength as he aged, but she couldn’t imagine him ever shrugging off the wish to remain physically fit. The years could never shave away his considerable bone structure, never turn him clumsy. And the organ threatening to poke a hole in his single garment—surely it would always be as large as it was now.
Shaken by how much power his cock held over her, she squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, he was still looking down at her so closely that he could easily touch her in the ways he’d already demonstrated and more. She found the reality of his arms hanging at his sides disconcerting. Surely she didn’t want to be manhandled any more. And yet—
“I have no reason to believe anything you tell me about safety or danger, here or in the jungle.” He scanned his surroundings as best he could from a kneeling position. “If I did, my stupidity could kill me.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Leave you here for a while. And when I return…”
Did the man expect her to be grateful because she was no longer in a hogtie? Did he believe what he’d done to her was any better?
Shifting uncomfortably, Saasa acknowledged that her comfort had probably been the last thing on his mind. Instead, he’d been concerned solely with making sure she didn’t get away. Toward that end, he’d loosely tied a rope around her neck. Then he’d forced her to deeply bend a knee and had secured her leg to the neck rope. If she wanted to relieve the pressure in her neck, she had to keep her leg close to her body. To make things even worse, he’d gagged her.
Obviously, he wanted to be sure she couldn’t cry out, but to whom? She was the only one here because she’d insisted on her mission being a solo one. Once she’d explained the obvious, which was that she wasn’t a mother and thus not essential to someone else’s survival, no one had argued with her. Of course her captor didn’t know that.
She’d never tell him why her life had so little meaning.
Alone with her thoughts, questions, fears, and remnants of the arousal he’d forced on her, she wondered at the circumstances that had brought her and this man together. From what the Qasim who’d watched the newcomers earlier had said, the handful of Jumaane seemed to be more equipped for travel than conquering, unlike the Karhia killers who’d come before them. Not only were there only five Jumaane, they weren’t heavily armed. Except for the black-eyed man, they’d spent most of their time around their flying thing as if they were preparing to leave. But much as she wanted that to be true, after too many days and nights, they were still here.
And in that time, the Jumaane had not only survived an ill-planned attack by several Qasim men, they’d killed two of them. Going by the descriptions of the weapons the Jumaane carried, she suspected he’d used one of them on her, but why had she only lost all muscle strength while two Qasim had been killed?
Please, please, they all have to leave! Don’t let them be like the others!
Awash in fears and tears she’d never want him to see, she lost touch with time. Because he’d placed her in the shade, the sun wasn’t adding to her discomfort. She hated being trussed up with her sore ass and sensitive sex so raised up and exposed. Damn him for leaving her breasts uncovered and her skirt bunched around her waist. The slender strip of cloth over her crotch wasn’t enough!
When he returned—
Something started crawling over her free leg, prompting her to shake it. Whatever it was either fell off or flew away.
What would he do when he returned?
She hadn’t lied.
As his captive came into view, Ram allowed himself another shake of the head. He couldn’t fully accept that her people had let this slender and beautiful female leave the safety of wherever they lived by herself, but even though he was still familiarizing himself with this part of Lamis, he was positive the two of them had this area of massive trees to themselves.
Because he didn’t want his traveling companions to doubt his commitment, he’d scanned his surroundings and sent those videos back to the spacecraft. From what he could tell, that had relieved the older men’s minds although they wanted him to take more pictures of his captive once he returned to her. He suspected they were interested in more than how he’d secured her, which was why he intended to treat them to a close-up of her red buttocks and naked breasts.
Squinting, he waited for his eyes to adjust to the shadows. She hadn’t thrashed about, which he took as proof that panic hadn’t robbed her of what intellect she had. But knowing she was possessed of a brain didn’t explain what had prompted her to get so close to someone she suspected might have killed several of her kind.
Had one of the dead Qasim been her father, a brother, maybe a husband? Surely she hadn’t thought she could avenge a death by herself. Besides, letting grief get in the way of the instinct for survival didn’t make sense.
She must have heard him coming because she lifted her head. Despite the effort, she kept her head off the ground as he covered the last of the distance between them. He wanted to be near her and yet he didn’t. Because he hadn’t taken the time to cover her breasts, their fullness and the dark centers called to the hungry male in him. He wondered how her people viewed nudity—and sex.
Sex. Fucking. Damn it! Couldn’t he think of anything else?
His head pounding in time with his cock, he took the last two steps and dropped to his knees beside her. Instead of trying to shrink away, she watched his every move. He heard what sounded like a growl from behind the gag. After releasing his throbbing cock, he removed the gag. Her eyes still on him, she licked her lips.
Yes, a growl much like a wild animal’s warning.
“What did you find?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
Her nod made a simple statement—she’d told him the truth and he’d acknowledged it. “What are you going to do with me?”
Jumaane women used their femininity to manage their world. In contrast, Saasa appeared as bold as any man. “What I must.”
“Which is?”
Cover her breasts. Pull down her skirt. Pull her to her feet and walk her back to the craft. Think like a warrior, not a male animal.
Instead of doing any of those things, he released her tethered leg then leaned back to see what she’d do. Although she couldn’t use her hands, she wasted no time in sitting up, the movement so graceful and effortless that he was again in awe of her. The longer he was around her, the greater the difference between her and Jumaane women became. Just because she looked as if she barely came up to his shoulder didn’t mean she was a frail weakling, which was something he didn’t dare ever forget.
Take her back to the spacecraft, now!
“What do you and the others want with Lamis?” she asked. “And you with me?”
Something akin to a bolt of lightning shot through him, and he started splintering, losing touch with the highly trained protector who’d been hand-selected for the years-long exploration. She was responsible—this woman with her swollen breasts and wet passage, magnificent hair, and bold and beautiful eyes.
Angry, he grabbed her hair and pulled her head down so he didn’t have to look into those disturbing eyes. She again growled. Her hot breath heated his swollen cock. Still gripping her hair, he pushed her away from him. As soon as Lamis’ air replaced the heat she’d planted on him, he drew her close again but kept enough distance between her mouth and his organ so she couldn’t bite him.
“Are you afraid of me?” she demanded. “Is that why you treated me like a misbehaving child and haven’t told me your name?”
Moist heat accompanied her every word and made a lie of his ability to concentrate on anything except her impact on him. “Ram. I’m known as Ram.”
She frowned. “Who gave you that name?”
Surprised by the question, he blurted a quick explanation. Jumaane was ruled by the Lion class, which consisted of men bred and raised to make the most of their intellect. The careful selection process had resulted in the development of spacecraft capable of exploring the universe. Among the Lions’ responsibilities was to personally observe and test all boys once they’d grown beyond babyhood. The results set lifelong wheels in motion. Physically superior boys were taken from their homes and raised in highly structured societies where their innate strength and courage was honed so, eventually, they could take their place as the small but mineral-rich Atrver’s guardians and protectors. As part of that process, they were given names befitting warriors.
He had been one of them.
“You have no choice in your life’s course? No one on this planet you call Atrver ever objects to the Lions’ decisions?”
“The Lions are our rulers. They’re responsible for my being here.”
Something softened in her gaze. Puzzled and intrigued by the change, he released her. Kneeling, nearly touching him, she stared at him, the softness that had snagged his interest again glittering in her eyes. She looked so vulnerable with her breasts and throat exposed and her wrists bound. “Do you ever want anything else?” she whispered.
Sometimes. “It doesn’t matter! I am Ram.”
“But if your name was Night Bird or Whispering Wind or Healing Hands, would your heart be different? Perhaps it would never cross your mind to spank a helpless woman.”
Maybe. “What do you care? You should want me dead.”
“Yes. I should.”
Feeling as if he were swimming in her luminous eyes, he barely noted what she was doing until she extended her tongue and lightly ran it over what she could reach of his cock through the indestructible shorts. He watched her mouth open and close over his tip.
“What are you doing?” The instant the words were out of his mouth, he cursed himself. Not only didn’t her actions need any explanation, but in order for her to answer, she’d have to release him.
Instead of speaking, she continued to lean toward him, the core of him housed within those soft yet strong lips. The day was hot, but that was nothing compared to what he was experiencing. In addition to heat, she was bringing moisture—and a message both primitive and complex to him. Much as he cursed the layer between his cock and her, he was grateful because otherwise she might strip him down until he became nothing except fire and wanting.
Her hold tightened. Alarmed despite the fog of desire she’d encased him in, he sucked in a breath and pulled back, freeing himself. When she lifted her head, he gripped her jaw and pushed her away so her buttocks rested on her heels. By the Lions, she looked so damnably helpless, so ripe and desirable! His.
“Are you afraid of me?” she asked.
“I fear nothing, Saasa.” The words were boastful but he’d been raised and trained to show or feel no fear, and the lessons had taken. That was why he’d treated her the way he had. “You’re the one who should be trembling. I could beat you for what you just did, not just subject you to another spanking.”
“Then do it. Prove you’re no different from the other space travelers—savage killers!”
“What are you talking about?”
“Nothing. Nothing!”
What was going on inside this woman? Maybe she was determined to distract him while her people prepared to attack? No, because if he knew nothing else, he was certain they were alone. He’d let her physical body briefly distract him from his goal but wouldn’t allow that to happen again. It shouldn’t take much to tame her, just a few more lessons applied to her ass.
“We’re going to be together for as long as I need you, Saasa. And for me to succeed in my task, you must understand how complete my control of you is. When I ask something, you will answer.”
Determined to make her believe she had no impact on him, he pulled the material away from his hard-as-hell cock. Unfortunately, all it took was the lightest touch of his finger to his tip to remind him, and it, of her message. Cursing both of them, he slid his hand under his waistband so he could cradle himself. If only it was buried in her hot core!
Ruled by anger and confusion, he slapped an exposed breast. She arched her back. Another rolling growl found freedom. If that was some kind of impotent warning—
No, not warning. Her body speaking.
Wondering if that were true and he’d just stumbled upon some vital piece of information about her, he stalked around her. She turned her head so she could watch, prompting him to press against the back of her neck until he’d bent her low with her forehead against the ground. Kneeling at her side, he ran a hand between the buttocks he’d reddened earlier and spread her legs. Her useless fingers reached for but couldn’t find him, and she fought to lift her head. Easily keeping her in place, he stroked her sex.
“Wet,” he announced. “Hot and ready.”
“No!”
“Yes, Saasa, yes. You want me.”
Not you but your cock. Blood rushed to Saasa’s head as she waited for Ram to release her. To her shock, he continued to rub her sensitive labia while holding her in place. Moaning, she struggled to remain still, but the combination of being his to do whatever he wanted to her, coupled with his practiced strokes, was her undoing. Both hating and afraid of what she was becoming, she nevertheless couldn’t stop herself from widening her stance. Grass and leaves cushioned her knees and forehead. Between her throbbing head and equally throbbing pussy, she barely knew herself.
Her thoughts briefly hung up on the memory of what he’d done to her earlier. However, instead of hating him for spanking her, her resolve faded. There’d been something soul-changing about being treated like what, a possession? Something fascinating.
“Tell me you want to kill me, Saasa,” he challenged as he continued to manipulate her. “Scream that you don’t want this and make me believe it.”
“I hate you, hate you.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Whichever it is, you still want to fuck and be fucked, don’t you?”
“Free me! Then you’ll understand—”
“I don’t dare. If you somehow escaped—” He took a deep, ragged breath. “Answer me, Saasa!” Taking hold of her sex lips, he rubbed them lightly together. “No matter what you think of me, this is making you crazy.”
Yes. Yes! Before she’d managed a growl, but now the sound pushing past her lips was between a plea and a moan. She was aware of her forced-together hands, the masterful hold on her neck, the knowledgeable fingers pushing her past sanity. A hot blanket settled over her and wrapped her in its power. This man she should have never let get his hands on her was responsible for it, and she needed him to both fuel and extinguish the fire.
Ah, pressure on her sex, a finger finding and torturing her clit. “Ha-ah!”
“Sing for me, Qasim woman. Become my sex slave.”
Sex slave?
Labia free now. But her clit! By the gods, her clit! Through the lava swallowing her, she realized he was repeatedly flicking the nub with a fingertip. Over and over again, he touched and tapped. Fast, so fast. Sensation upon sensation. Fire lapping, building, screaming.
“Ah. Haah!”
“Are you coming, Saasa? Getting close?”
Again. And yet again. His fingers like hummingbird wings beating against a place so sensitive that if she could, she would have ripped it off her. “Oh, shit. Shit!”
“No!” The wings silenced, and in its place she felt pressure. He’d trapped her clit between his finger and her body.
Screaming need racked her and she fought him, fought herself. He released her neck only to straddle her legs and settle his ass against her calves. As long as she kept her head down he would have access to her sex. She remained there, wedded to the ground, his.
“You have more than one opening back here.” His voice was low. “Which gives me more than one way of controlling you. Surely you know what I’m talking about.”
She couldn’t form a word, could barely force herself to acknowledge what he’d just said.
“What is it, captive? Are you shocked?”
She’d just started praying to the spirits when he swiped a finger over her sex. When he was done, he painted her ass opening with her juices. She held her breath as he repeated the process, this time working the warm juices into her rear opening.
“No!” she gasped. “You can’t—”
“Ah, but I can and I will.”
For a third time he collected the juices all but flowing from her while she imagined his finger glistening with her excited offering. Maybe she should be grateful because he’d thought to ease his finger’s journey into her ass before plundering her there, but there was only one reality.
This stranger, this man who’d wrapped ropes around her body was slowly pushing his forefinger into that private place. Her opening burned while shame and shock flooded her face with heat. Was this really happening? She’d prepared for today by imagining all the things the newcomers might do once they’d captured her but she hadn’t guessed—
“This is mastery,” he muttered as his finger continued its relentless invasion. “Your body with no choice but to accept mine.”
So full. So lost. So overwhelmed. Incapable of movement. Surrendering in ways she hadn’t known were possible. Embarrassed and yet not.
“Don’t try to speak,” he continued. “All you need to do right now is concentrate. And accept.”
Was his finger all the way in her ass? Between her continued disbelief and the pulsing/burning sensation she couldn’t be sure. Doubtless, he was studying what he was doing and maybe laughing at how she looked and what he was subjecting her to.
Not long ago she’d fallen apart while he spanked her, but this was even more overwhelming. The message was simple. She belonged to him in every way.
No longer a separate human being but part of—of what? Domination and submission?
“There.” He swatted her buttocks right next to where his finger was lodged. “Maybe the most important lesson of all.”
“Please,” she whimpered.
“Stop begging.” He swatted her again. “It won’t do you any good.”
Didn’t he realize she had no control over what came from her mouth? In truth she might have confessed that had he not chosen that moment to begin a slow withdraw. In her mind’s eye she imagined his finger disappearing from her rear entrance while leaving the imprint of his presence on her stretched inner muscles. She’d never forget the sensation.
“I’m not going to force,” he said once he was all the way out of her ass. “I will not rape you.”
Should she be grateful? At the moment she wasn’t sure she was relieved because he’d stopped invading her or was disappointed. Everything was so confusing, so new.
Dominated. Helpless. His slave.
Surely a proud woman loathed being taken against her will, but to be a Qasim woman also meant boldly embracing her sexuality. If she wanted to fuck, she let a man know and it happened. Sex was as simple as eating whenever she was hungry, sleeping when tired.
And despite the great chasm between them, she wanted Ram’s hands on her—maybe even a repeat of what he’d just done. She didn’t care how loudly she would scream while climaxing, had only fleeting thought to what her screams would tell him.
Rolling her head to the side, she tried to look back at him, but all she could see was a powerful leg.
I belong to him.
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