Kosh's Omega

by Carolyn Faulkner

  Then he placed the impromptu implement he'd scarfed off the floor against her bare backside. It was the head of the bath brush she'd broken up into pieces, with just enough of a handle remaining to fit his hand pretty perfectly—although he doubted she'd agree with that by the time he got through with her.

  "You will not fight me. You will submit to me. I am your Alpha and it's disrespectful. Besides, I will defeat you every time."

  "I killed two of your men, and I'll kill you, too, eventually," she snarled savagely.

  "You did," he agreed, startling her. "And yet, here you are still, getting your bottom paddled like the naughty little girl you are. Someone needs to teach you to respect your betters, little girl, and I am that someone."

  Anger, very akin to what she had felt when he had been laughing at her attempts to fight him, flooded through her entire body that he would both refer to her and treat her like a child. She might not be as much of a soldier as he was, but she had been well trained and had accomplished a lot in her battle against them.

  Worse, though, was the fact that him speaking to her like that—in that low, sexually dominant tone of his—made her lower body clench hard, doubling and redoubling again the strange, ravenous hunger he inflicted on her, too, by his mere presence.

  Unfortunately, as he'd pointed out so rudely, she had not been good enough to keep her from ending up here, where she was subjected to ten slow, hard smacks of that thick, solid wooden head as it fell against her small, yet still rounded cheeks. And although she swore to herself that she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry out, she found herself nonetheless howling after each by the third loud, agonizing splat on her flesh.

  Flesh that was terribly close to other parts of her that were already overheated and only becoming more so—to her great mortification—as he disciplined her. There was something about him overpowering her like this—as no man in her life ever had—holding her down and administering a severe punishment that hurt like hell but felt terribly, annoyingly wonderful at the same time.

  The copious wetness that she seemed to have little control over when he was around began to overflow out of her again, and she could feel it trickling in a steady stream down the insides of her thighs, even as the other side of her was in utter agony.

  As soon as those were over, he issued another edict she intended to ignore.

  "You will obey me—when I tell you to do something, you do it. What did I tell you to do before I kicked down the door?"

  Tura clamped her lips shut stubbornly, and the punishment began again, only this time, he didn't stop at ten. Or fifteen. It seemed he would go on forever, and she was rapidly beginning to realize that she couldn't. She had wanted to answer him when he'd reached five but had managed to hold off until she felt the nineteenth time her body was literally shaken by the impact of that makeshift paddle on her bottom—twenty-ninth, counting the original ten.

  "You told me to get into the shower," she blurted out quickly, before the next stroke fell.

  "And what should you have then done?"

  She hesitated in answering him, which was the wrong thing to do. Even though she spat—or tried to sound as if she was spitting the words at him, although she didn't quite succeed in her beleaguered state—the required response out immediately after the next agonizing crack, another four landed before he stopped again, leaving her panting and heaving and sweating, and still—if with much less vigor—trying to escape, although it looked much more like anguished writhing now.

  "Yes, you should have. I have a feeling that you're going to have to learn obedience the hard way, but that is fine. I will never fail to correct you when you have misbehaved or disobeyed or displeased me. You are obviously a smart girl. You will soon become accustomed to what I require of you, and I will make certain that your punishments are such that you will always do your utmost to avoid getting one."

  With that, she expected that he would let her up, but no.

  Instead, he subjected her to another round of eleven tremendous swats that left her screaming her lungs out.

  "The last were for the men you killed. It was nowhere near enough, but then, you will find yourself making restitution for their deaths with your own agony for quite some time, I promise you. They were my men and my friends, and they didn't deserve to die at the hands of an upstart Omega female."

  He said those last three words as if they were a curse as he reached down to untie her hands. Tura was so exhausted by what he'd done to her that, although she knew that this was probably one of the few true opportunities she'd get for some time. Until she'd fooled him into trusting her some time down the road, if she wasn't already gone by then, she literally couldn't do anything to help herself.

  She was in too much discomfort and, frankly, exhausted from her continual efforts at both fighting and trying to get away from him.

  And then he lifted her, laying her down in the middle of the big bed as she clumsily tried to twist herself off her ravaged backside while he effortlessly secured her wrists together again, stretching them up, over her head, then hooking them to a speed clip that was attached to the bed frame by a strong leather strap. He wisely left the muzzle on, though.

  Tura was horrified at herself that she was simply lying there, in the position in which he'd put her, not doing everything in her power to get away. But she also knew that she couldn't take much more punishment—the pressure of her own weight on what must have been her incredibly swollen bottom was already unbearable. She couldn't imagine what it would be like if he used that horrible thing on her again.

  So, she lay there, panting, shivering and terrified, her body aching, throbbing and stinging, and disappointed in herself on nearly every level because of it.

  Kosh maneuvered himself so that he was on all fours over her. "You are mine now, but you will be even more so in a minute."

  She had no idea what he was talking about. Her mother had wanted to tell her more about being an Omega and what that would mean to her if she met her mate—that one particular man, as she'd told her. At the time, that seemed highly unlikely—but her mother never got the chance to explain it to her.

  Kosh prided himself on his self-discipline; he had practiced self-denial for as long as he could remember. It was something his father had started him early on and, when he had died, Vaudt's father had continued the practice. He had desired the first Omega they had discovered in a very long time—who had become his leader's mate—when Vaudt had brought her to the compound, just as every other living Alpha had, but he had controlled himself.

  It hadn't been easy, and Tura smelled just that much better to him. Her primitive, primal scent, combined with just her obvious fear—which was nearly as potent to him—her fighting skills—which were quite extraordinary—and her almost indomitable will.

  He had never wanted to simply devour anyone or anything as much as he did her. He couldn't even begin to see a time when he would ever have his fill of her. He had been pulsating, uncomfortably hard beneath the leather of his armor, since they'd found her on that raid, through the entire time they had been chasing her, when he'd had to kill several fellow soldiers for the right to have her, and even when he'd been in that room with Vaudt and his mate, to his great embarrassment.

  It was beyond his control, and if it didn't feel so fucking amazing, he wouldn't be much of a fan of it.

  Because he refused to give in to the drive that was very close to overtaking his iron will, Kosh teased himself with her, dragging his entire body over hers as he breathed in every bit of the delicious scent of her—her hair, which was a glorious golden red but currently too short for his tastes, just behind her ear—which he noted made her shudder, although she tried to suppress it—and between her breasts where she was just slightly sweaty from their "fight".

  He literally couldn't stop himself from touching those beautiful mounds, though, when he'd sworn to himself that he wouldn't quite yet, and he couldn't find it in himself to regret it one bit, either.
They were firm but soft, her skin wonderfully smooth, except for the areolas and the two distended red tidbits at the top that looked to him as if they were begging him to suckle, and he was only too happy to oblige.

  The way she jerked up—obviously trying to dislodge him, groaning loudly, despite the muzzle—surprised but delighted him. He'd had women before, but never an Omega and certainly never an Omega who was his, and she seemed incredibly sensitive to him, despite her reluctance.

  Those thoughts made him want to surge headlong into her, and it took a tremendous act of will not to do exactly that. But, obviously, he wasn't the only one who was warring with himself.

  Tura could no more bear the sensations he was causing her now than she could withstand what he had done to her with the bath brush. They were both atrocious, but for very different reasons, and she was quite afraid that one was feeding off the other within her own body. Every movement she made—in protest of those ham hands touching her as if he had every right to—rubbed the taut, sore flesh of her buttocks against the rough material of the bed covering, but then a warm wet mouth was wrapped around first one nipple, then the other, neither of which had never felt such a thing before. All of those voracious sensations were meeting right where she didn't want them to—between her legs.

  Realizing that she didn't really care what he thought, she had to have some kind of relief and she crossed her legs as tightly as she could. It was little to no help, but some was better than none in this situation. Until he noticed what she had done.

  "Spread your legs," he commanded gruffly.

  She whimpered pitifully behind the gag, but he did not relent.

  "Do you need more of the bath brush?" he asked, his tone deep and deliberately threatening.

  That drew a horrified squeal from her, and she began to inch her legs apart with great reluctance.

  But that wouldn't do for him. As soon as she'd uncrossed them, he reached down and pulled first one ankle up and out, insinuating himself between them as he did the same with the other, bringing her calves up to rest near her shoulders and bending her legs so far back that her bottom was lifted up to him—offered obscenely—as if she was eager to have him, when he knew that was the farthest thing from the truth.

  Still, when he reached down to loosen himself from his pants, he could feel how wet she was against the back of his hand—the one she'd viciously bitten. The hurriedly applied bandage, which was really just a strip of his t-shirt, began to absorb the steady stream of her juices immediately, and he realized that he'd be wearing her scent as long as he wore the bandage.

  He didn't think he'd ever been this hard—or quite this uncontrollably desperate—in his life, the slit of his cock leaking, too, although certainly not on the scale that she was. Its reddish-purple color was no lie; he wanted to bury himself in her more than he wanted to take his next breath. And there was nothing to stop him from doing just that.

  She had been shaking her head wildly back and forth between her arms since he'd begun avidly suckling at her, but that became even more frantic, as did her mewls and moans of distress, when he notched himself against her slick entrance.

  Bracing himself on his hands, he thrust powerfully into her, barely noticing the resistance he encountered on the way to occupying her body as fully as he possibly could—although he nearly lost complete control of himself as she gripped him so snugly with those warm, wet walls while she shrieked and groaned beneath him, trying to flail her legs, but he was much too big and heavy for her to be able to do that.

  As soon as he could feel himself nudging against her deeper opening, he felt the instinct to pull back and did so. She went stiff beneath him on a muffled, out and out scream, and he knew he'd anchored himself within her as the base of his cock began to swell, locking them together as he began to move.

  Tura continued to try to protest as best she could, letting him know that he was hurting her—and he was. But within a relatively few strokes, the tone of her protests changed considerably, until they weren't even that any longer. They were the unmistakable cries of ecstasy.

  She was being held fast beneath him, subject to him piercing her tender flesh, then his knot forcing her virginal pussy to accommodate his incredible size. She should have been outraged. She should have killed herself trying to stop this. Instead, she was moaning like the bitch in heat that she was.

  In the back of his mind, Kosh knew there was something about her pleasure, something that made it vital, but he couldn't think about it at the moment. What he could think about was what he could clearly see—the soaked bandage on his hand—and that was more than enough impetus for him not to worry about her in the least. He took her, hard and unrelentingly, but too quickly for her to get to where she needed, spraying himself helplessly inside her as he clenched his teeth and groaned gutturally at the first truly complete sexual pleasure he'd ever experienced.

  Chapter 3

  Early the next morning—even before he had a chance to awaken naturally and take her again, at least once more before he left—there was a knock at the door.

  Kosh almost called, "Come," automatically, not used to having someone else in his quarters, especially not someone like Tura. Instead, he walked, naked, to the door, assuming a fighting stance.

  "Yes?"

  "Commander, sir."

  The room was bathed in her scent—mixed with his that he had left with her, still probably flowing out of her—and the unmistakable odor of sex. Kosh had the idea that the young man—he could tell by the higher voice—on the other side of the door was probably in possession of a painfully erect dick, about this point, and perhaps even deciding whether or not he should try to take him on in a bid to get at an Omega—even a bonded one.

  "Don't do it, boy," he warned in a growl.

  He heard the kid's feet shuffle nervously, then he cleared his throat and said, somewhat tentatively, "L-Lord Vaudt sends his apologies for breaking up the festivities, but he requires your presence. He told me to say it to you exactly like that, sir."

  Kosh almost grinned at that, but he was not easily given to any kind of mirth. "Good man. I'll be there in a minute."

  He crossed to Tura and removed the muzzle, giving her an intent look. "Don't do anything stupid to make me regret doing this because it's of no consequence to me whether you wear this all day or not."

  She didn't. She was too glad not to have that thing in her mouth any longer. Her lips and the interior of her mouth were so dry, she didn't think they would ever become moist again.

  Then he reached up and untied her hands, lifting her off the bed immediately and taking her into the bathroom, where he literally placed her on the pot then took a step or so away to wait expectantly.

  "You don't think I'm going to go with you standing there, do you?" she asked sarcastically.

  His eyebrow rose. "If you would prefer to lie in a soiled bed all day—" He took a step towards her, but her hand came up.

  "Fine."

  Having to pee in front of this man was just another embarrassing, humiliating moment in what was becoming a long list of them that he was responsible for.

  And when she wiped herself, she came away with several spots of blood.

  "Is it your time?" he asked.

  "That's none of your business," she snapped back.

  Lightning fast, Kosh leaned down to grab her by both the pussy and the tit, squeezing both hard until she squeaked, unable not to waste her time and alarmingly drained energy trying to dislodge his hold. "Everything about you is my business, and I suggest you check the attitude or I'll make the time to whip your ass again before I leave."

  She gasped in high indignation at that threat, although he could feel that—at almost the same time—she creamed on his fingers, and he filed that very interesting information away for later consideration.

  "No, it's not my time. It's just the remnants of the delicate, tender deflowering I was treated to by you last night, not to mention the other three rapes after my loss of virginit
y."

  He didn't let on, but Kosh was stunned by her revelation, as well as by the depths of his own stupidity. That wasn't even something he'd considered last night, obviously, and he admitted ruthlessly to himself that he wasn't sure it would have changed much about how things had turned out, although he would like to have thought he would have been more careful of her, but he—the man who prized control above almost everything else—also had to acknowledge that he wasn't even sure that was even possible.

  Tura wasn't at all surprised that she received no response from him. He didn't act as if she'd spoken at all. He did remove his hand from her crotch, however—smiling broadly when he looked down at it, for reasons unknown to her—and, as much as she tried to plant her feet and not let him take her back to that bed, where she knew he was going to tie her up again, he simply picked her up and brought her there.

  And she was right. He didn't replace the gag, but he did pull her arms over her shoulders. "I will restrain you as long as I think you are likely to misbehave when I'm gone. If you are obedient and well behaved, you will be rewarded with more freedom."

  "So, eventually I can get out of this room?"

  "No. You would not be safe without me to protect you from other Alphas. Eventually, when we have been together for a while and our bond has reached its peak, you might be safer out by yourself, but I doubt I'd ever want to test your safety like that. Besides, you're going to be pregnant most of the time, hopefully, and I would never tolerate that kind of risk to our baby. But you could be allowed use of the room while I'm gone, though. It all depends on your behavior."

  "I am not a child!" she yelled.

  He leaned over her and said quietly, "Then stop acting like one. You are mine. You will submit yourself to me and bear my children, and I will take care of you and them. You can do all of that just as easily—more easily for me—while bound."