“Finish the job on her beautiful butt, brother. She needs to learn.” In a flash he departed, his breeze lifting the ends of Zotorro’s hair.
Wendy scalded him with a short glance. “Do your worst.”
Her tone dared him and was also resigned that he would spank her. He’d never come close to hitting her for any reason—never considered it in their past. In truth, she’d never behaved in a way that invited that kind of response from him.
“Wendy, you do have to learn. I won’t lose you. We won’t lose you because you refuse to obey in a critical circumstance.” Zotorro approached her, his own dilemma raging. What the hell was he supposed to do? One side of him wanted to treat her as his beloved princess. Yet his primitive side surged, demanding he punish her to protect her.
“I’m damn-the-donkey not going to turn over for you.” She twisted away from him as he lowered himself to the bed, perching on the edge.
Hypnotized by the waving flow of her hair, he fingered a long heavy strand. “I spanked a woman once. Actually, twice.”
“Why?”
“It was the way to Bev’s open-door policy.”
“Bev Hot Pants, as we called her.” She spoke over her shoulder.
“I’ve got the hot pants, you’ve got the hots. Let’s see how fast you can take them off and give me what I want,” he recited, Bev’s balls-to-her-walls words burned in his memory.
“I didn’t know you gave her the rod. That’s what she called it when she bragged to her girlfriends.”
“I thought it would be more rewarding than it turned out to be,” he ruefully revealed. “It was before you, Wendy.”
“A youthful indiscretion,” she dryly teased, her tone tense.
“Wendy, come here,” he ordered, intentionally sounding severe.
She keened a long low sound. “Do it. But I won’t—”
Zotorro seized her by the upper arms, super-speeding them inside his domain. Lowering himself to the edge of his bed, he threw her over his lap. She struggled, wild as a prairie lioness. Trapping her wrists in one hand, he smacked her frantically moving butt. Whack. Whack. Whack. Still she fought him and screamed with fury. He struck her harder, enjoying the fucking hell out of feeling her ass this way.
“Donkey stinky balls,” she cursed him.
He slapped her good and hard several times, watching her pink flesh become redder. Writhing, she attempted to avoid his hand, her soft belly rubbing his cock to a rocketing strength and length.
“Wendy.” He hoarsely groaned. Her breasts were like two temptresses luring him to endless pleasures as they bounced against his thigh.
“Disgusting brutal beast,” she hurled, twisting.
Tightening his hold, Zotorro landed the flat of his hand on the fullest part of her ass, hard.
She shrieked, enraged, and then fought, her frenzy mindless, her curvaceous flesh doing incredibly wonderful things to his ready rod.
Fierce as a conqueror inside, he spanked her, landing blow after blow until she finally stilled. He dove the side of his hand deep between the folds of her kwim. Stroking back and forth, he reveled in the feel of her soaked and blazing sex lips. The intoxicating smell of her arousal had him seeking her clit. He plucked, squeezing her slippery tiny bulb with his nails.
Widening her thighs for him, she whimpered.
“What do you want, Wendy?”
“Please.” She moaned and her kwim wantonly clenched his hand several times.
Clamping her clit between two fingers, he felt it give little jerks before he thrust his thumb into her juicy hole. Slowly and rhythmically, he stabbed into her.
“You didn’t answer.” He punished with his voice. God, she’d raised her reddened beautiful ass to him while straining to open her thighs wider for his plunging thumb.
“Give me your rod,” she hesitantly responded.
“Are you going to obey?”
“No.” The whisper sounded as if it had been torn out of her defiant core.
“Yes, you will.” Zotorro promised from his core and from his love for her.
“You can spank me forever, it won’t matter,” she breathlessly hurled at him.
“Maybe not, my punished princess. However, you will learn to obey.”
His cock ready to launch and threatening to explode, Zotorro groaned loudly through his gritted teeth. He swirled his thumb around the entrance to her kwim hole, listening to her moans of pleasure, sharp and desperate. For him. For what he could do to her.
Releasing her wrists, he spanned her waist with his hands then lifted her onto the edge of his bed. He placed her on all fours, her ass now his. She lowered her torso, a graceful move lost as she reached back spreading her thighs as wide as she could. Her spanked butt competed with the exposed red folds of her kwim. Her fiery curls were a golden halo inviting the uncompromising plunder of his cock.
Inhaling her fragrance, a rich beckoning aroma, Zotorro jerked his rod free, rapidly sliding his hand back and forth as he stepped out of his loose pants. Holy carnal hell, his balls fought it out—which one could tighten painfully against him first. After whipping off his shirt, he stared. Glistening drops of her sex essence formed, falling on his bed.
Leaning forward, he stroked up the inside of her thighs, strong with her dancer’s lithe muscle and soft with her feminine curves. “Wendy, give me your hands.” He opened his palms, the back of his hands pressing against the apex of her thighs.
Without hesitation, she dove her hands inside his grip. Zotorro yanked a bit, bringing her ass higher and opening her sweet hole even more to his rod. She keened a whimper, and then panted in short wild bursts. Bracing himself by his stance, and using the pull of her hands, he rammed his cock deep inside her.
Her stunned little scream seared his loins with a dark brutal pleasure. Her sweet hole blazed around his entire rod, yet clamped like wet satin. His eyelids clenched shut and he savored the sheer heaven of her.
“Wendy, you know I love you.”
He lunged deeper, harder. His long groan almost drowned out by her tiny ecstatic cries. “Did you hear me?” he rasped from the back of this throat.
“Yes.” She tried to arch her kwim higher. “Please, Zotorro.” She desperately tried to squirm on his cock. “You made me this way. Un-make me.”
A darkness of lust invaded his body. Zotorro lunged back to her kwim’s tight creamy opening. He launched his rod. His huge head pulsed with ache as he plunged inside her. His loins slammed against her ass, hot from his spanking. Holy hell, he went primitive, a jackhammer inside her.
She took his relentless thrusts, wailing moans to him. There was only the darkness ruthlessly driving him and her, the lush feel and presentation of her ass. The slick squeezing glove of her kwim. All his.
Simultaneously, the thunderbolt hit, their orgasms blasting through their flesh and around their very beings. He knew because beams of light emanated from his body. Her sparks shot in every direction, pure white light. Neither of them made a sound. The ballistic intensity of their bliss overcame them completely.
“Wendy.” He called out to her in the weighted silence swirling around them as soon as he could, while his ecstasy was still raw and grinding through him. Releasing her hands, he grasped her hips, simply holding her. God, she completed him. As he’d always known.
“Zotorro,” she finally answered, her tone dreamy and spent. “I can’t move.”
He eased her from his happy un-snappy rod. Gently he positioned her on her side. Lying down beside her, he stroked heavy lengths of her hair away from her face. “Wendy, how much does your butt hurt?”
“Barbarian,” she mock-accused. A tiny smile curved her lips. “A lot. You better make it better.”
“You had better obey, princess.” Zotorro wrapped one hand around her breast, fondling.
“If I say no, are you going to spank me again?”
Zotorro growled low and soft. “There are other ways to punish you.” Except right now he didn’t want to punish her, he wanted to
love her.
“Make my butt feel better and I’ll think about obeying.” She twisted at the waist, giving him more access to her full goddess breasts.
Zotorro brought her closer. As her head leaned against his chest, he seized the round plump swells of her tits. He massaged her flesh, his gaze trapped by her nipples. They were still rosy and semi-peaked, the circle of color a deep blatant pink. “Guess what I found for you, my princess.”
“Am I supposed to try reading your mind?” Her voice lilted, and sounded lazy with her pleasure.
Zotorro grinned. “You’re supposed to say, “Oh, my handsome prince Zotorro, what have you found for me?’ ”
“Hard to think of those specific words when my butt is throbbing.”
Inspiration suddenly whacked the side of his head. “Wendy, try drawing the fiery heat into your hands. Think about flaming me.”
She paused a moment, her body stilling. “Can I think about flaming your rod?”
“Rev it up, baby. Bounce those sparks off my willing rod.”
“Damn it, you’re taking all the fun out of it. And now you sound like Zion.”
“Who do you think helped him the most with his machines when he needed another pair of hands?”
“I thought you helped him mostly because you wanted to stare at my legs and my perky breasts.”
“That is true.” He slowly brushed his thumb pads over her nipples. “I also had more of an appreciation for his precious machines than Zavier and Zent.”
“And here I thought you just wanted to use his car.” She gripped his cock like a lever. “Here goes every spark I can get from my abused butt.” Closing her eyes, she focused.
Gradually heat built up in her palm until her fingertips popped tiny sparks he barely felt. In another instant a flare of white light enveloped her hand and his rod. A vortex of sizzling sensations without an ounce of heat surrounded his manhood, and then rapidly vanished.
“Tease.”
“Yeah, like I’d tempt your ardor now.” Her tone sizzled him with more heat. “What did you feel?”
“Fire, but no heat.”
“Exactly. Like when I dance. I think that’s one reason my costumes don’t catch on fire then, but can at other times when I’m not wearing them.”
“You feel extreme heat other times, and pain, don’t you?”
She nodded. “Unbelievable burning at times. Or a scorching agony.” She rolled, twisting to get a glimpse of her butt.
“Barely pink,” Zotorro uttered, astounded.
“It’s hard to believe you actually spanked me like that.” She gave him a narrow-eyed, withering glance.
“All I heard was begging,” he taunted. Seizing her nipples, he rolled them between his fingers, hard. “Give me your clit, Wendy. Open your kwim.”
Moaning, she rocked her hips several times before obeying his demand. He watched her reach down as she widened her thighs. Without hesitation, she pulled her sex folds apart for him.
“I’ve wanted to do this to you for a long time,” he rasped. “Make you dance this way.”
Releasing one of her large rigid nipples, he smoothed the pad of his finger over her dewed sex cord, savoring the shape and her torrid heat. Deliberately, he dragged his finger back and forth. Whimpering, she undulated her hips to meet his finger, dancing her pussy to his rhythm.
“Yes,” he rasped. Zotorro kept twisting her nipple and stimulating her clit with repeated strokes, reveling in how she could feel like both his cherished princess and his silky temptress. “You feel gorgeous against me, Wendy.”
Suddenly arching back against him, she cried out, “Make me dance faster.” She pulled her kwim lips farther apart.
Increasing his pressure and his speed, Zotorro slid his finger along her juicy sex cord, from the hard tip of her delectable clit until he pressed against the cushioning cleft of her mound. She whimpered in gasps, her body rocking in quick thrusts as she hurtled toward her orgasm.
“Give it to me, Wendy, my princess,” he encouraged and demanded. “Give it to me.”
Her skin blazed with a red flush. She launched her kwim against his hand, her body rigid with torrents of her rapturous climax.
Surprise exploded through him when tiny spikes of bliss entered his finger from her. Dazzled inside and out, he whispered, “Wendy, my Wendy.”
She breathed raggedly, her beautiful body lax against him. Zotorro gathered her fully into his embrace. His love for her poured forth like the raging rivers of water they’d dammed up earlier. “Wendy,” he purred again. He couldn’t help it.
The next instant a high-pitched whine slammed against his ears, and grew louder until it drowned out his every thought. The sound screamed, blasting in and around him unmercifully. Instinctively, he covered Wendy’s ears and forced himself to reach out intuitively to search for the terror he knew attacked them.
He barely heard Wendy shriek, her hands flying over his as she tensed up into a small ball.
What? He sent the mental question to his brothers, hoping they would know and respond with the answer of who had breached their defenses. The image of a massive hole in their translucent dome on top of their building formed before his mind’s eye. The edge of the giant hole was melted, appearing like a crystalline wave trapped to stillness. Only the concentrated beam of several super-tronic plasma guns could penetrate their protective shield and cause the type of opening he psychically saw. No one possessed that kind of weaponry except members of the Black Force Elite. Not even the World Force.
Still, nothing made sense in his whirling brain. The power supply needed to generate the beams should not have been available in Chrontropolis. Should not have. With his only desperate thought to protect Wendy, Zotorro placed her to the side and surged up. Summoning every ounce of his strength, he spun into a blur of motion, shooting straight up and through the ceiling, then floor after floor.
The hideous sound reverberated, daggers of agony striking inside him. Somehow he kept his concentration, spinning higher and higher towards the breach. In a sound so silent it jolted through him, the super-tronic whine stopped. Free of pain, he angled his flight toward the dome, one clenched fist leading the way. Swiftly he speed-blasted through two walls, streaking inside the dome.
Halting in mid-air, he scanned the entire area, his eyes instantly adjusting to the darkness of night. Cool air spilled inside, the heavy moisture carrying in the stench of ash and pollutants. So far, a team of Super Bads hadn’t made an appearance. Zotorro wasn’t surprised, since the synthetic screech of sound would have affected them in the same way.
Who?
Where were they?
He rotated fully, searching, flaring the blue illumination of his gaze into every part of the room. Quiet. Too quiet. Nothing and no one moved around him. Yet.
A small whir broke the silence. The soft rumbling escalated as he heard the bullet-shaped fighter copter rise upwards, close to the side the building. Zotorro recognized the signature sound all too well, having fought off a horde of them with his brothers. They had all barely survived the terrible vicious encounter. Of course, then their powers hadn’t been near the level of strength they possessed now. Still, the Black Force Elite would have made improvements and had designed the bullet copters specifically for the purpose of destroying those with super abilities.
Hoping his brothers hadn’t been disabled by the deafening whine, Zotorro sent a telepathic distress signal. Nothing. No response. Alarm sliced him in half. He tried again. Not a buzz of contact. Listening to its steady low-humming rise, Zotorro drifted closer to where the copter would make its appearance. No doubt, the instruments checked for counter weapons and for the vital signs of the Dark Brothers.
Where are you? Zent’s weak voice entered his mind.
The dome. We’ve been breached. Bullet copter about to attack.
Pulling everything he knew about the copter from his memory, Zotorro positioned himself to float along the wall, following the whirr-hum vibration of the killer machi
ne. If the pilot remained on the current trajectory, Zotorro planned to attack the underside of the copter, disrupting one of the energy pods.
Hell’s own. He heard Zavier’s curse. I can’t fly.
Where are you? He shot the thought toward Zavier.
Aiming the particle cannon at another bullet copter on its way to attack us.
Hell! Zotorro answered. Zion? Where is he?
Fuzzy head. But he’s repairing the shield. Where’s Wendy?
My room. Alone. Can Zent fly?
No. He’s down with Zion, using the disrupter cannon on the Lurker Super Bads.
Silent now because the pilot had switched to magnetic propulsion, the bullet copter hovered along the rim of the opening like a monstrous shark preparing to attack. Hell on high, the hole in their dome was enormous enough to let three copters drop inside. Zotorro couldn’t tell if his presence had been detected. He had one chance at disabling the full power of the Black Force machine. That would be his only chance to destroy the copter before it began pulsing disruption beams and other weapons, eventually blasting the building down around their ears.
Even if they escaped the devastation, other bullet copters were on the way to finish them off. Grimly, he pictured the Villainous Elite gleefully rubbing their hands in celebration, once their scorched hides hung flapping in the winds above one of their castle-like compounds. My naked hide, he silently reminded himself.
Remaining in flight, he eased through the shadows, eyeing the energy pod as if it were his prey, as if he were starved—a familiar feeling. Often, in the early days of their superpowers, he and his brothers had hunted to stay alive, so they wouldn’t use the meager food supplies left inside Chrontropolis.
The bullet copter spun around as if on an axis. Detecting his presence, a pulse gun took aim at his position. Arrowing his body, Zotorro streaked toward the gun. He veered at the last second, the pulse blazing above his shoulder. Diving beneath the copter’s belly, he seized the energy pod and twisted with all his might. Attached by magnetic fusion, it didn’t move worth the width of ion.
Her Insatiable Dark Heroes Page 26