Aliens wanted me for breeding. A more fearsome beast took me for himself.
When the government identified me as a suitable mate, they sent one of their best soldiers to capture me and deliver me to the Kerz aliens who buy human women for use as brides each year.
What those corrupt bastards didn’t know is that Bazrok Jargan is no ordinary man.
He’s a panther shifter, the last of his kind, and when the brute takes me over his knee with my bottom bare, the stern, shameful lesson puts my body’s total surrender on humiliating display.
We both know it won’t be long before he loses control and ravages me more savagely than any Kerz warrior ever could, yet even before Bazrok claims what is his, the truth is clear.
No beast will ever carry me off. I belong to one already.
Author: Samantha Madisen
eBook Price: Kindle Unlimited/$4.95
Length: 79,000 words
Baz’s eyes flash a warning to me.
“Forget this, Baz,” I tell him. “I don’t know what game you’re playing here, but I’m not sitting around in here all night, and I’m not going to that creep Klergon tomorrow, and I’m not, for that matter—”
In the way that Baz does, he moves so quickly that my mind doesn’t detect the motion of his body until it’s too late to do anything about it. The floor and ceiling are suddenly swirling around me, I’m weightless, I’m flying… for a second, I think Baz has thrown me somewhere, and I close my eyes, bracing for impact.
Instead, I land roughly, but not painfully, on something solid but soft, with the floor beneath my face. I’m hanging down, my torso lying across his legs.
No. Not really. Not after all this time, all this longing.
I start kicking and writhing, out of instinct, trying to right myself, but when I feel Baz’s hand on my thighs, it makes me freeze. His hand is warm and familiar, moving up, beneath my dress, over my skin. I close my eyes, incapacitated temporarily by the memory of the pleasure Baz gave me the night before. I think I even start to laugh; smiling, I start to turn my head.
Maybe this was all just a joke.
But the first sharp sting of pain across my bottom stops me cold. Or hot, depending on how you look at it. I hear it after the sting dives into my skin, so I know that he’s taken his hand to my bottom only after the white-hot heat begins to diffuse, spreading across my whole backside.
“Baz, what the hell?” I shriek. I wriggle, but he’s holding me to his thighs with one hand and the other begins to spank me.
Slap, slap, slap: he delivers a rain of sharp, hot smacks to my bottom. Each one stings more than the last because my skin is alive with waves of heat that ripple to the sides of my ass and then back in. I scream at him, first using words and then incoherent gasps, finally sobs. “Stop it! What are you—?” I shriek.
The worst part about this—in my opinion, anyway—is that I’d been craving this, practically begging him for it, and he didn’t give it to me all that time. And even though it isn’t what I really want from him now, I’m aroused by it again. It hurts, sure, and it’s utterly humiliating. But between my legs, with each hot smack of his hand, I just feel more of the longing ache that plagues me with Baz all the time.
“Lenera,” he says, punctuating my name with a smack. “You must learn,” smack, “to obey. And to submit. Do you understand?” He smacks my bottom again, and I relent, only because I can see that this is pointless. I won’t win against Baz, and I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I also don’t feel like I want to all that much. Between my legs, my body—which has betrayed so much already—is weeping moisture, and when Baz leaves his hand against my skin after a final, red-hot smack, the arousal only intensifies.