by Jaye Peaches
She couldn’t stop shivering with both shock and relief. “You’re really here.” Her stiff limbs refused to cooperate as if the drug kept her paralyzed. “He wanted to…” She couldn’t say the words and the tears flooded her face again.
Marco swept her into his arms and lifted her off the bed. He carried her out of the infirmary, ignoring the curious expressions of the medics and guards on duty. Once out of the building, he took a path away from the plaza and the Volta.
Freya had burrowed her face into his chest and curled up. Marco’s strength easily accommodated her weight and he continued to carry her as if she were a delicate package. He strode with a purpose, his jaw set firm, suppressing his anger. She was safe in his arms—how erotic and reassuring—and carried across the city in plain view of his subordinates while not one of them questioned his actions.
It wasn’t until they reached a small flight of steps that Freya realized they weren’t anywhere near the Volta. “Where are we?”
“My residence.” The door automatically sensed his presence and swung open.
A balding man scuttled out from the shadows. “Governor… we weren’t expecting you.” The man bobbed his head. The sight of Freya in the arms of Marco had raised his eyebrows high.
“I’ve returned. My trip to Halos is canceled. Please ensure we’re not disturbed. By anyone.” Marco walked past the stunned servant and continued into the heart of the building.
“Please put me down. I can walk.” She wriggled her toes, feeling the life spring back into them.
Another door and another room. Unlike the Volta with its grandiose pillars and ornate decorations, the residence of the governor was plainer and masculine in tone with shiny surfaces and metallic trims around the walls and doors. Marco laid Freya on his bed, which occupied one side of the chamber. She picked at the corner of the sheet, trying to calm down.
Marco smiled. “The color has returned to your cheeks.”
“Why am I here and not at the Volta?” She released her arms and he held both her hands and squeezed them gently.
“You’re not going back there.” He leaned over her and she felt the warmth of his breath and his delicious smell. Now that her fear had been quelled, she needed him so much. Her inner sanctum, the one that the doctor had wished to violate, craved Marco’s cock to such an extent that she felt the dampness on her thighs.
He peppered her with kisses and she moaned with delight. “But I’m your jenjin. Lalita won’t allow it.” What was he playing at? What about the rules?
He hovered over her. “Lalita might consider the jenjin hers, but not you. You’re mine. She knows this, because she was the one who contacted me and warned me about Dr. Han. She might come across as austere, but when it comes to the threats being made to the jenjin, she’s not so strict about the rules. She doesn’t want anything to happen to you, any more than I.”
“Lalita? I thought she hated me.”
“I doubt it. She’s not as cold as she appears. I admire her discipline, but that doesn’t mean she’s incapable of benevolence. When Han ignored the protocols—he didn’t have my permission to take you—then she did what was necessary to protect you. Did Han hurt you? Was I in time?”
“I don’t think he did anything to me. He’d drugged me, but I think he wanted me awake while he…” Freya struggled to describe the medic’s plans.
He kissed her quivering lips. “Don’t. I don’t need to know. He’s obsessed with you.”
“Why?” What made her, the only Earthling, so special?
Marco eased away and rose to his feet. “You need some nourishment and a bath, then we can talk more.”
Freya sat up and the sheet fell away from her shoulders, exposing her breasts. Marco sucked in an obvious breath and stared at her erect nipples. She wasn’t hungry, at least not for food. Marco had rescued her, abandoned his trip just to save her. She was that special to him and she wanted to thank him.
“If I’m not going back to the Volta, am I still your jenjin? A prisoner?”
He’d an erection. It showed through his pants and she licked her lips, eager to show him she was capable, able to withstand his demands.
“Those things don’t matter anymore.” He approached the edge of the bed and cupped her face in his palms, brushing away the remainder of her tears. “My little fire rabbit, you are everything to me. Everything.”
Freya’s heartbeats raced and when he tilted her chin up, she closed her eyes and waited for his warm embrace and kisses.
* * *
His jenjin? Not any longer. As Marco glided over her, parting the edges of the sheet to uncover her belly and glistening thighs, he sighed.
They’d been seconds away from the jump into the wormhole when Lalita’s message arrived. The decision had been easy to make. He didn’t care to see Halos, not when Freya was in danger. Once the transporter had docked, he ran from the space dock to the infirmary. What Dr. Han had planned was likely to be beyond his remit and Freya’s endurance, too. The doctor had made a mockery of alien studies. Everything the Vendu needed to know had been discovered—Han’s examinations were unnecessary.
Now that he had her in his arms again, everything would change. The Volta had lost its purpose. The idea of visiting his jenjin and claiming her each time had no fascination because she was always his, every hour of every day. During the frantic flight back to Tagra, Marco had realized what love truly was—an unbroken connection to Freya and even if she was a prisoner, he would maintain that bond regardless of protocols.
He’d lived his life by rules, obeyed them without question, and disciplined others who failed them. If love was able to change him, it could work its magic on others too. The Vendu should take heed of its power and use it for the good of the empire. War and conquest had served their purpose, but not any longer. If the emperor asked his rising star, the governor of Tagra, what would bring stability and prosperity to the Vendu, Marco would tell him to accept their destiny. The one that had been theirs to claim ever since they discovered Earth.
Without doubt, he knew Freya would always be his, that she would follow him wherever he went. What if circumstances were switched, would he go with her? What if she was declared free and able to return to Earth—would he give up his post and career for her? He couldn’t contemplate the question, not while he could smell her scent, see the flush of her skin about her breasts and the bright fire in her eager eyes. For now, for however long the moment lasted, she was here where he wanted her.
Having peeled away the sheet and exposed her perfect form, Marco quickly stripped. He ached for her and his stiff cock had swollen, shooting its silvery cum from the slit.
Freya had not forgotten her training. She knelt at his feet, stretched her arms forward, and raised her bottom. If she wasn’t to be his jenjin, then she intended to remain his submissive lover. Clearly, given her graceful response to his undressing, that element of her was natural and unforced. He circled her, admiring the sheen of her shaved folds and the puckered hole above them. All of her would be taken, slowly at first, to ensure she was ready, then with vigor.
Bending over, he gathered her hair in his hand and drew her up carefully, so as to not alarm her, but sufficiently firm for her to know he had control. On cue, she opened her mouth, tucked her hands behind her back, and enveloped his cock with her moist lips. The texture of her tongue, which slavishly worshipped the length of his shaft, felt divine—neither smooth nor rough, the soft flesh massaged his ribbed sheath, easing it over his hard core. He groaned and with his fists locked around her hair, he guided her back and forth until he’d filled her mouth and throat.
She held her breath as he paused to savor the sensation of deep penetration. A brief pause until she started to stiffen her jaw and bare her teeth, warning him she needed to breathe.
He stepped back and held his cock, allowing her sweet mouth juice to trickle over his hand. She wiped her mouth, then as expected, opened it wide again, knowing he’d not finished. He tapped her tongue w
ith the tip of his cock, teasing her and she giggled more through her nose than mouth.
“You like my cock, don’t you?” He slid it along the groove of her tongue.
She nodded.
“Ask for it.” He cupped the palm of his hand around the back of her head, drawing her closer.
“‘Ease, ‘ir, can I ha’ ‘our cock,” she mumbled.
“My pleasure, sweetness.” He thrust deeper and she drooled while sucking the sensitized glans, until the squeeze on his erection forced him to come.
How easily she triggered an orgasm. His calves twitched as he spurted cum down her throat. She swallowed, struggling to keep up with the fountain.
Marco panted as if he’d been fucking her hard, not dipping his cock in and out of her mouth. “Good, that’s good,” he muttered.
Withdrawing his penis, he was pleased to find it rock hard and ready for more action. He wasn’t spent as the first orgasm had merely brought on his lust, driving his libido to its maximum level. How should he take her? Bent over, up against a hard wall, or folded backwards with her bottom raised and her legs bundled out of the way? She’d been taught the positions well and could accommodate most of his wishes.
She’d returned to the pose of submission, stretched out and waiting. Her shoulders rose and fell rapidly as she inhaled. During their time together, since the visit to the tent, when she’d spoken of sex she’d used the term lovemaking. She’d concocted the phrase from the Vendian words and he understood the translation. Fucking was what he considered normal terminology. Hard, forceful sex for his pleasure. She confessed on numerous occasions she liked it, even if it left her sore and exhausted. Now that she was in his home, which lacked the trappings of the Volta with its specialist furniture and equipment, did he want to continue treating her like a jenjin? What if he ordered a loveseat for his bedchamber; would he tie her to it, as he usually did? Would he perform the necessary ritual enemas as her maid had done?
Freya’s body had stilled—the panting had ceased. She’d recovered her poise. It would easy to kneel behind her, enter her, and pound her tight holes in turn. He crouched next to her and traced the line of her spine, down between her bottom cheeks and into the wet folds of her sex. She rippled with goosebumps and wriggled her ass. She wanted it. She was desperate for him. Perhaps, it was time for her to choose. No longer bound by the rules of the Volta, he needed her to agree to this. He loved her, deeply and emphatically, but he couldn’t imagine relinquishing control of her body.
“In here?” He poked his finger into her drenched pussy. “Slowly? Do you want me to caress you with my cock?” He twisted his finger around and edged her soft spot with the tip. “Or pound you until you shake all over?”
“Oh, God,” she moaned in English.
He grinned. When she was extremely aroused, she cursed in her native tongues, English sometimes, but not always.
The fire rabbit tattoo moved into its next pose, always moving in circles around her back. It had faded a little. It would need renewing soon. He didn’t doubt she would agree to the procedure.
“Answer me, Freya,” he chided, strengthening the tone of his voice. “Do you want me to pleasure you, or fuck you hard? So hard you’ll not walk for days.” As he said the words, she clenched his finger in a pincer grasp. He’d no intention of leaving her crippled. However, he’d given her a message and she’d responded positively.
“Very well. Just so you know, you don’t get to change your mind. Understood?” He ramped up the sexual tension, but how far to push her before she shouted out fire rabbit?
She nodded—another breach in etiquette. He couldn’t see her face, but she wasn’t distressed by his declaration. He suspected that beneath the veneer of the trained jenjin there was a soft smile waiting to emerge.
He slapped a buttock with the flat of his hand and she jerked with a gasp. “Yes, sir.”
“Then we’ll start, I’m ravenous. Let’s see how deep my tongue will reach inside this pussy. Let me eat you out.”
She came on his finger. A spontaneous, uncontrolled orgasm. He slapped her bottom as she contracted her muscles and he thrust repeatedly in time to his swift smacks. The orgasm evolved from a small beginning into a violent awakening, which charged into every muscle of her body. Her quivering legs gave out from under her. He stayed with her, agitating his finger until she erupted again with another wave of spasms.
“Oh, no!” She bunched her knees together and tried to evict his hand from between her legs. “I’m sorry.”
He thrust two fingers inside her. “Why are you sorry?”
She squealed. “I didn’t ask for permission.”
“No, you didn’t. How naughty of you. Perhaps I should take you over my knee and remind you of my rules.” He emphasized the my. They were his rules, not the Volta’s or Lalita’s. His to control, and he would devise new ones, especially to keep her safe while she lived with him.
She flailed her arms about and her bottom bucked up and down on his fingers.
“Naughty little Earthling,” he growled. “Very well. Over my knee.” He settled back on the bed and patted his thigh.
Freya crawled toward him, lifting her flushed face and she pouted, puckering her lips together. He laughed. It was a fine attempt at the frown, but he could see it was a lie.
She lay with overt reluctance over his lap and then proceeded to holler excessively loud with each smack. However, she giggled occasionally, too, betraying her true thoughts and she squirmed when he reminded her she was not to come without permission.
“Sir. I’ll be good,” she squeaked between spanks.
The pretense at discipline was over. It wasn’t what either of them truly desired. The stiffness in her body had eased. She was ready.
He ramped up the hardness, pinned her under his arm, and rattled off a series of spanks on each sit spot until each one had turned crimson. Her response was to cease struggling and she moaned. A long, soft sound of satisfaction. This, her submission, was his goal, and it was everything he needed from his companion, his woman. Finally, he’d found her.
* * *
He’d fucked her mouth and forced her to orgasm with only his fingers. Her clitoris was in such a sensitive state that if he tickled it, she would come hard. She lacked mental discipline, Lalita would have reminded her and the verdict was probably true. With Marco watching over her, she’d always be at risk of a spanking, but she didn’t mind in the slightest, not if it felt as wonderful as this.
He’d shifted from mild reprimand into the kind of spanking she really needed. The hard kiss of each slap resounded in her ears and jarred her hips into his meaty thighs. It hurt, boy, did it sting like crazy when he landed them in quick succession The burning flare followed by the spike of pain as each smack merged into a pool of heat. Over and over, he aimed at the same two little spots. Her ass yielded, then like a row of dominoes toppling over, so did the rest of her.
Free of the Volta, she had his undivided attention. No more kowtowing to Lalita and the other overseers, she would only have one person directing her. The spanking continued, gradually becoming a fog of pain and she ground her hips down into his lap, feeling his erection beneath her bones.
Words weren’t necessary any longer. When he finished, he rubbed the hot spots briefly, then fingered her again. She held her breath, working hard on holding back another orgasm, which waited in the wings, desperate to come out onto the stage.
She drifted, happy to let Marco do as he pleased and he did.
Bending her over the edge of the bed, her blazing ass on display alongside her throbbing sex, he molded his body over hers. The head of his cock nudged once, twice, then entered her pussy, pushing aside the residual effect of her unending spasms. Marco stilled, keeping himself in check as she stretched around his steely rod.
Holding her wrists above her head, he pinned her to the bed and she wore his body like a coat—her smaller, slender frame draped by his muscular shell. What lay inside him, his beating heart, thumpe
d against her shoulder blades. The weight of his chest pressed her down and she sank into the mattress. He’d taken ownership of her.
The way he overwhelmed her, made his presence felt after the horrible encounter with Dr. Han calmed her. It was the opposite effect to what anyone might expect if they witnessed the scene. If she’d written a play describing the dominance of an unyielding governor over his captive prisoner, spanking her, directing her with cool commands, nobody would believe it was her wish to bend to his demands.
The passage of time had no bearing. Nobody interrupted them. If she needed food or drink, she would wait. With his cock pounding and his hips slapping against her bottom, Marco fucked her with unrelenting passion until he pumped his cum into her pussy. The mix of juices, his and her copious offering, provided sufficient lubrication for him to coat his shaft and prepare her bum hole.
“Relax,” he soothed as he probed, checking her readiness.
He shifted her onto the bed, slipped a pillow beneath her hips, and she spread herself, using the give of the mattress to aid her relaxation. The burn of his entry nearly, as it often did, spiked a moment of panic, but she’d learned to ignore it. The sensation passed quickly and instead she enjoyed the way his cock filled her, occupied her and the friction of his sweeping strokes echoed into her pussy and along to her clit. She scrunched her fingers around the abandoned sheet and rocked her pelvis in time to his thrusts.
The pace altered. He moved faster with brisk jerks of his hips. While he fucked, his hands roved about, constantly exploring her contours. The dip between her shoulder blades, the small ring of her neck, then under to cup her breasts and squeeze them into his palms.
Out of sight, her clitoris rhythmically chafed the pillow. “Please,” she muttered between breathless gasps and whimpers. “Please, may I come?”
“Wait.” He commanded her in the tone of voice she’d come to admire—stern and measured. He looped her long locks of hair into his fist, lifted her head, and made eye contact. She gazed into his face—the beads of sweat trickling down his forehead indicated the energy he had to utilize to sustain his vigorous pummels.