On His World: A Sci-Fi Romance by Poppy Flynn – Extended Preview

She opened her mouth to ask another question, but before the words came out, Zorran’s thumb was there, pushing between her teeth and she felt desire start a fire in her belly as she closed her lips around it and flicked the calloused tip with her tongue.

Zorran growled. “I can definitely think of better things to do with your mouth than talk about Duroc,” he grumbled, pressing his thumb deeper and then pulling out again in crude mimicry.

A second later he reared up in front of her, pinning her hands behind her back, his other hand on his belt which he deftly removed. She hadn’t quite realised his intensions when he swiftly buckled her wrists together, but a delicious shudder wracked through her as she caught and held his intense gaze. His eyes were dark and untameable and held a passion so powerful it made her shiver.

“Open your mouth.” He said the words as he pulled her up by her hair to kneel in front of him. The pressure on her scalp sent shards of fractured pleasure/pain skittering through her.

She did as he commanded, her eyes never leaving his. In a corner of her mind she was aware of him unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down until the long, thick length of him sprung free.

Then he was shuffling toward her, cock in hand as he pushed it toward her face.

“Suck!” he demanded as he drove his shaft through her waiting lips.

The motion was inexorable. He thrust forward slowly, his grip harsh on her head, preventing any movement.

“Relax your jaw and breath through your nose.”

His words were honeyed velvet with a hint of gravel. They made her stomach curl and she felt an answering flood of need soak her panties.

Her jaw was stretched wide at his impossible girth, but she did her best to follow his instructions, desperate to please him.

He stopped, withdrawing a little and her tongue followed him, flicking around his shaft and exploring his glans and veins in a whole new and exciting way.

Zorran groaned and pushed back in again, faster this time, deeper. Trielle felt the beginnings of her gag reflex kick in, but Zorran was attuned to her every reaction, his eyes still boring into her and holding her tethered in their encompassing, black stare.

In and out. He fucked her mouth relentlessly, never looking away. Never freeing her from his penetrating gaze. Her eyes watered and she was helpless to stop saliva dribbling from the corners of her mouth and down her chin.

He owned her and she…she loved it.

Her nipples were so hard that they ached. Every rasp against the fabric of her robe as he used her served to ramp up her desire. But it was never quite enough to satisfy. She craved his touch and her core clenched emptily, desperate to be filled.

Zorran fumbled with the clasp at the back of her neck with his free hand then pulled down her robe until one of her breasts was bared. He gripped the flesh, roughly massaging before he found her pebble hard nipple and twisted harshly.

Pain flared brightly, but was fleeting, morphing into a dark pleasure.

Trielle screamed around his cock, closing her eyes momentarily. She felt his fist tighten in her hair and opened them again in time to see the carnal satisfaction in his own.

Molten desire drenched her feminine sheath and his next words rumbled deeply and stroked her senses.

“You take every drop I give you and drink it down.”

She tried; she really did. Swallowing around his pulsing shaft in a desperate attempt to not waste any of his precious seed. But it was impossible. There was just too much. Spurt after spurt of hot, salty semen overflowed in her mouth, dribbling down her face. His deep brown eyes watched every single trickle that wasn’t caught before his hooded eyes came back to hers and seared her.

He withdrew from her mouth with a pop and shook his head.

Trielle’s breath sawed in and out of her chest as she tried to suck in some much-needed air.

“Naughty girl! It looks like you lost some,” Zorran growled. He ran a blunt finger through the come and dribble coating her chin and fed it back into her mouth.

Trielle sucked frenziedly on the roughened digit, cleaning it thoroughly.

Zorran kicked off the trousers that were pooled at his ankles and sat next to her on the sleeping pallet. The tension in the air was still thick and Trielle’s body thrummed with unreturned stimulation.

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.

“Sir,” he demanded, holding his hand flush against her throbbing butt, stilling momentarily as if he was testing the depth of the scorch against his palm. Then he dug his fingers into her aching cheeks and had her bucking against his hold.

“Sir!” she yelped, rocking herself back and forth on his knee, desperate for just a little bit of friction to ignite the fire which Zorran had kindled.

As it curled into an insidious desire, he thrust two fingers inside her sopping core, and she flooded around their intrusion. He pressed on some magical place inside her and Trielle arched and writhed beneath his touch, pleading and sobbing as he plunged in and out while he played her body like a maestro.

His other hand swept up some of her copious juices and smeared it around her puckered rosette before the blunt digit burrowed inside.

Trielle felt the initial stretch and burn but it just added another layer of rapture to everything she was already feeling.

A third finger spread her and the pressure was divine and agonising. He finger-fucked both her holes relentlessly and all she could do was hold on to his leg as the tsunami of pleasure engulfed her and hurled her into a spiral of a climax that left her limp and sated and completely devoted to the uncompromising man who had taken her there.