Maryam

Maryam Page 12

by Tracy St. John

When Pana reached the elas­tic waist­band of her skirt, he gath­ered both her wrists in one hand, us­ing the other to yank the an­kle-length swath from her. The air rushed from Maryam’s lungs at the bold as­sault. Did she have any de­fense against Pana?

  She didn’t want any.

  Rather than re­mov­ing her thin panties, he set his palm against her soaked crotch. Watch­ing Maryam’s face, he rubbed her sex, caus­ing fric­tion against her nether lips and clit.

  Elec­tri­fy­ing arousal mounted, and Maryam cried out, her legs fall­ing far­ther apart. Brac­ing her feet against the mat, her hips rocked for­ward, mov­ing against the pres­sure of Pana’s hand. Thrills coursed through her, an en­tic­ing flicker of en­thrall­ment tak­ing hold and grow­ing large. Could she come that way? Would he let her?

  The idea he was in con­trol of her plea­sure, that he might deny it, had a strangely per­verse de­light to it.

  “Would you like me to lick you?” Pana asked.

  A gust of air es­caped her lungs in re­ac­tion to his baldly speak­ing of the act. Even in the pri­vacy of their mar­riage bed, her ex hadn’t talked of what they did or what they wished to do. Nei­ther had she. Mere words were dan­ger­ous on Earth, and speak­ing was some­times more fright­en­ing than the acts them­selves.

  The Imdiko’s ques­tion rang in her ears. Maryam whis­pered, “Yes.”

  “Say it.”

  “What?”

  “Say, ‘please lick me’. Tell me you want it.”

  He gazed at her, his mouth that hid that in­cred­i­ble tongue hov­er­ing over her wom­an­hood. Wait­ing ex­pec­tantly. As if he wouldn’t give her un­told de­lights un­til she obeyed.

  She swal­lowed, feel­ing a block­age in her throat though her heart ham­mered in an­tic­i­pa­tion. Her voice came out raspy. “We don’t say such things on Earth.”

  “You’re not on Earth. This ship is Kalquo­rian, so you may as well be there. Our women tell us what they de­sire. Since that’s ap­par­ently un­com­fort­able for you, I’ll al­low you to make a re­quest. Ask me.” His tone was gen­tle, but there was a thread of steel run­ning through it.

  The block­age was still there, lodged tight. Those taboo words she must never ut­ter. Ex­cept now, she was sup­posed to. They re­mained stuck.

  “Do I have to?” She hardly rec­og­nized her own voice. She sounded like a lit­tle girl ask­ing per­mis­sion.

  “Yes, Maryam. You have to speak, or you can’t have what you want.”

  Un­ac­cept­able. Her body raged, as much in an­tic­i­pa­tion for the plea­sure he could be­stow as in what he de­manded she do.

  She was en­thralled that he de­manded com­pli­ance. Just as she de­lighted in how he held her arms pris­oner, so that she had no choice but to ac­cept his pas­sion­ate at­ten­tions. The re­al­iza­tion was stun­ning, as was dis­cov­er­ing how greatly she pre­ferred him to take ut­ter con­trol. To per­haps make her obey him.

  “I’m wait­ing, Maryam. Or should I let you get dressed?”

  “No!” De­nial flew from her, break­ing through the ob­struc­tion in her throat, set­ting the plea free. “Please lick me.”

  “Bet­ter. Why don’t you try, ‘please lick my pussy’?”

  Maryam wailed. He would force her to speak a bad word?

  Bad word? What am I, five years old? I have to have that mouth on me. Say it.

  “Please lick my—my pussy.”

  Pana’s eyes lit. He licked his lips, and Maryam whim­pered, wish­ing he’d put that tongue on her. How­ever, he wasn’t quite fin­ished with the les­son.

  A les­son she was greedy to be taught.

  “Say, ‘please eat my pussy, Pana’. Let me hear my name from those lips.”

  Wet­ness drenched her panties. Yet, the old warn­ings held sway too, in­sist­ing she was sin­ful. Evil. She re­fused be­lieve it, but Earth’s teach­ings wouldn’t be silent.

  I won’t deny my­self be­cause of that. They’re wrong.

  Hop­ing it would be eas­ier if she didn’t look at him, Maryam closed her eyes. From far off, she heard that odd lit­tle-girl voice that had re­placed her own moan, “Please eat my pussy, Pana.”

  A harsh tug, her hips bounc­ing on the bed as her panties were stripped free. Cool air on her sex. Pana’s wide shoul­ders be­tween her thighs, push­ing them far­ther apart. Open­ing her.

  Then the blessed waft of warm breath on her, and the quest­ing rasp of that won­drous tongue part­ing her nether lips, send­ing a blast of rap­ture straight through her core.

  Af­ter that first tremu­lous taste, Pana went to work on her with a will, lap­ping en­thu­si­as­ti­cally at her soft­est flesh, send­ing arousal thun­der­ing through her. Maryam’s eyes flew open wide to watch him nuz­zling her flesh—her pussy. His pur­ple eyes were half-lid­ded as he mouthed her, his tongue trac­ing the trem­bling petals of her wom­an­hood, stab­bing deep within her, twin­ing about her swollen clit.

  Maryam gy­rated help­lessly be­neath him, wrig­gling as arousal stam­peded through her, driv­ing lu­cid thought from her brain. Pana al­lowed her to thrash, pulling her back to his vo­ra­cious feed­ing when she man­aged to writhe out of his mouth’s reach. Bril­liance co­a­lesced deep in­side, a re­mem­bered bliss from long ago—but greater than any she’d known be­fore.

  This was no pleas­ant warmth that grew by de­grees, re­solv­ing into lovely pulses of ami­able re­lease. What Pana forced on her was a de­struc­tive force of vi­o­lent ten­sion, a bru­tal long­ing that fought to dev­as­tate her. Maryam had never known such rav­en­ous crav­ing, a yearn­ing that threat­ened to rip her apart. She opened her mouth to scream at him to stop be­fore he killed her.

  A pa­thetic, thin sound es­caped in­stead of the shriek she’d in­tended. At that mo­ment, a huge con­vul­sion seized her. She det­o­nated, the world turn­ing white as she ex­ploded. Surges of ec­stasy rolled through her, toss­ing her end­lessly on a sea of ex­cru­ci­at­ing ju­bi­la­tion. She shat­tered into a mil­lion frag­ments again and again.

  It was an eter­nity be­fore the pulses be­gan to ebb, set­tling into a quiet rhythm of de­li­cious throbs, fed by Pana’s lan­guorous lap­ping.

  His leisurely licks were ac­com­pa­nied by a deep sen­sa­tion of bliss, a care­ful beat of fill­ing and emp­ty­ing, of some­thing en­ter­ing her and re­treat­ing. It wasn’t mov­ing in her sex, how­ever. It worked tighter flesh, a place Pana gen­tly coaxed to stretch around his quest­ing fin­gers.

  They have two sexes. Maryam’s breath caught as the Imdiko read­ied her for his lust. How had she for­got­ten such an im­por­tant de­tail when she’d in­vited that first kiss?

  Yet her anx­i­ety dulled as she floated in post-or­gasm eu­pho­ria. What Pana did wasn’t painful, as she’d feared anal play would be. She’d as­sumed Kalquo­rian women’s anatomy to be dif­fer­ent in that re­gard, that they were formed in a par­tic­u­lar fash­ion that kept rear en­try from be­ing the tor­ture she was sure it must be for her own kind. Yet the sen­sa­tion of fin­gers mov­ing in and out of that taut open­ing didn’t hurt at all. In fact, it was—arous­ing. In­cred­i­bly arous­ing, es­pe­cially when she re­mem­bered how taboo such an act was on Earth. Even more so as she con­sid­ered how eas­ily he could take, even if she were re­luc­tant to give.

  Pana lifted his face from her still-puls­ing sex, his lips and chin gleam­ing from her ex­cite­ment. His grin was naughty. “How are you?”

  “As­tounded.” Her voice trem­bled, but she didn’t care. What he’d done to her—and was do­ing to her—had de­stroyed all her con­cep­tions of what sex should be.

  Pana chuck­led. “I’m glad. Your re­ac­tion was rather en­thu­si­as­tic. Shall we con­tinue?”

  She swal­lowed. She’d not had in­ter­course in years. Though he wasn’t hurt­ing her, she had se­ri­ous con­cerns about him in­tro­duc­ing what was no doubt larger than a fin­ger to her
vir­gin hole.

  “I haven’t been with a man in a long time. Never with a Kalquo­rian, who would be, um, more en­dowed. It might hurt.”

  He dipped a kiss to her mound. “I’ll be care­ful.”

  Which failed to ad­dress her con­cerns about pain. Be­fore Maryam could point that out, Pana bent to her once more, seiz­ing her clit in his mouth and tongu­ing it. Shock­ing, rag­ing arousal ripped her from her con­cerns as he sucked and licked, driv­ing her to­ward or­gasm. He shoved an­other fin­ger in­side her, forc­ing her to yield. An in­stant later, she was lost in heav­ing cli­max.

  She groaned as she came back to her­self. Wrecked. He’d wrecked her. Ru­ined her for sex with any other man. He must have—who could pos­si­bly match Pana for oral per­fec­tion? For a strength that left her trem­bling with ea­ger help­less­ness? She’d come twice for him, and her body ached for more. She had the no­tion he’d be more than ca­pa­ble of de­liv­er­ing.

  A shape loomed over her. Maryam blinked to clear her gaze of the mist that had fallen. Pana knelt be­tween her legs, di­vested of his clothes. His dark brown naked cocks jut­ted, one on top of the other, fat and livid with ex­cite­ment. Shin­ing with wet­ness. Ta­pered like bul­lets. The shaft meant for her tin­gling rear was as large as her ex’s. The pri­mary was big­ger by far.

  Maryam lay be­neath Pana, frozen in shock. Too shocked to move or speak. Per­haps tak­ing her stunned si­lence for con­sent, the Imdiko took the pair in hand, align­ing them with her open sex and ass. Hot flesh nudged her pussy and inched in. Then an­other nudge, this one at the un­tried open­ing. Eas­ing into the stretched ori­fice. Tak­ing her.

  When the first ache bloomed, Maryam snapped out of paral­y­sis. Her palms slammed against Pana’s chest. “Wait,” she choked.

  “Hush. A lit­tle more,” he crooned, push­ing fur­ther in. The ache am­pli­fied, verg­ing on real pain.

  Part of Maryam cried out to make him stop. He could hurt her. Yet, it was that very threat that si­lenced her. Still aroused de­spite two gar­gan­tuan or­gasms, a surge of ex­cite­ment joined the dis­com­fort. A throb of sheer hunger bub­bled up deep within as the full weight of her vul­ner­a­bil­ity fell upon her, and Maryam’s breath caught.

  “That’s it. I feel you spas­ming,” Pana sighed. “You’re a tight, gloved fist around me. Per­fect.”

  He drew out a lit­tle, al­low­ing Maryam to in­hale. Then he shoved against her again, go­ing deeper. The ten­der­ness re­turned, along with that en­thralling sen­sa­tion of im­pend­ing cli­max. She shook her head, un­sure if she wanted to con­tinue, un­able to keep from do­ing so. She wasn’t sure she could bear the com­bi­na­tion of de­li­cious plea­sure and grind­ing ache. It was too much.

  “Sur­ren­der,” Pana urged, div­ing deeper still.

  The in­cred­i­ble full­ness of two cocks set off a sud­den mas­sive throb of rap­ture. He’d rubbed against some­thing sen­si­tive, some­thing that felt ev­ery bit as in­cred­i­ble as clit play. Maryam arched, cry­ing out as ela­tion thun­dered into her very bones.

  “Yes, lit­tle Earther. Give your­self over.”

  His hips rocked, ap­ply­ing fric­tion to that magic spot over and over. Plung­ing deeper into her with ev­ery stroke. Her sex and ass strained to ac­com­mo­date him, adding pain to the tak­ing—and some­how in­creas­ing the car­nal de­light. The hurt wasn’t to be feared, but in­vited. The dis­parate sen­sa­tions swirled to­gether, mix­ing un­til Maryam couldn’t de­ter­mine where an­guish be­gan and ec­stasy ended.

  “That’s it. You want this. All of it.” His eyes burned in his dark face, mes­mer­iz­ing her. Bend­ing her to his will. As ex­al­ta­tion beck­oned, she had no abil­ity to re­sist, not even when he urged her to ver­bal­ize the un­think­able. “Ask me to fuck you hard.”

  “Fuck me, please. Fuck me hard.”

  “Again. Speak my name. Do it ev­ery time.”

  “Fuck me hard, Pana.” She gasped as he thrust deeper still.

  “Tell me you be­long to me.”

  “I be­long to you, Pana.”

  “Your pussy is mine to fuck. Say it.”

  “My pussy is yours to fuck, Pana.”

  “You ass is mine to fuck.”

  “My ass is yours to fuck—Pana!” Her state­ment ended in a shout as his groin slapped against hers, driv­ing him all the way in. For a mo­ment, agony rose above de­sire—but only for a mo­ment. Ela­tion seized con­trol once more, mak­ing an­guish sweet.

  He grasped the backs of her legs just above her knees, tilt­ing her up. “Look at me fuck­ing you, Maryam. Look at my cocks shov­ing into you.”

  She did, gap­ing to see the thick length of his for­ward cock bury­ing it­self into her wom­an­hood, dis­ap­pear­ing within the red curls of her pu­bic hair, then emerg­ing shin­ing with wet­ness. She’d never seen her­self taken be­fore. Sex with her hus­band had been in the dark, as was proper.

  This was not proper, not in the least. Maryam averted her gaze.

  “No, Maryam. You’ve freely given your­self to me, and I de­mand you watch it hap­pen. Look.”

  His tone brooked no dis­sent. Maryam obeyed, mak­ing her­self watch their taboo act. His pe­nis, his cock, thrust­ing into her. Shov­ing in­side her. Fuck­ing her like an an­i­mal, and she was let­ting him.

  “In­cred­i­ble, isn’t it? Look at your cunt, yield­ing to me. Feel your ass do­ing the same. I’m fuck­ing you, and I’ll come in­side you. You carry my child, and you’ll be filled with my seed as well.”

  The car­nal speech wove a spell over Maryam, as his de­mand­ing kisses had. As when he’d re­strained her. As claim­ing her as if it were his right. The words she’d spo­ken at his in­sis­tence, that she and her wom­an­hood and her ass be­longed to him for his use, re­curred.

  It was all true. At that in­stant, Maryam ex­isted only for Pana, his to do with as he wished. It should have fright­ened her, but Maryam felt only the per­fec­tion of it. She was his to pos­sess.

  He smiled, as if read­ing her mind. He reached up to brush her curls from her face. “That’s my beauty. Con­cede to me. Hold none of your­self back. That’s all I ask of you, to give your­self en­tirely to me.”

  “Yours,” she whis­pered.

  Pana leaned in to kiss her, blan­ket­ing her with his weight. Though pas­sion rose higher with each stroke of his hips, she was yield­ing, sub­mit­ting to his power. In­tu­ition told her there was no rea­son to worry about pleas­ing him, be­cause sur­ren­der was all he wished. It was the most lib­er­at­ing mo­ment of her life.

  He kept her pinned to the mat, thrust­ing. Rut­ting. Fuck­ing. Maryam moved with him, kept her­self soft­ened to his brute force, show­ing she ac­cepted his mas­tery over her. In re­turn, he brought her to ec­stasy yet again, watch­ing her with avid ex­cite­ment as she arched, suc­cumb­ing to the bliss he of­fered. Then he ham­mered into her, ac­cept­ing his due, un­til his cocks jolted and warmth poured to fill her.

  His groans also filled her with a sense of com­ple­tion al­most as grat­i­fy­ing as the cli­maxes he’d given her.

  Pana sank into ut­ter ful­fill­ment as the fi­nal pulses of com­ple­tion drained from his body. His sat­is­fied cocks nes­tled in snug warmth, which even now gen­tly pulled, coax­ing the last drops of pas­sion from him. Large breasts pil­lowed him. He nuz­zled the sweet-smelling hair be­neath his cheek. If this wasn’t par­adise, he couldn’t imag­ine what was. He never wished to move again.

  Once his breath­ing evened out, how­ever, he couldn’t wal­low in self­ish con­tent­ment. He was re­spon­si­ble for the lovely woman who’d brought him such in­tense grat­i­fi­ca­tion, an obli­ga­tion he was more than happy to ful­fill. Smil­ing, he opened his eyes.

  Lovely Maryam watched him, her ex­pres­sion con­tent, blue eyes sparkling. Her hair was mussed, spread­ing over the pil­low. Her lips were puffy and red from his
at­ten­tions. She ap­peared as a woman should; well-loved. Re­laxed. De­lighted with the man­ner she’d been cared for. He’d done well by her.

  Out of nowhere, guilt crashed in, oblit­er­at­ing Pana’s hap­pi­ness. He pulled free of her warmth and sat up on the edge of the bed. He hid his face in his hands.

  “What? What’s wrong?” Maryam sounded alarmed, and she tugged at his arm. “Pana, what hap­pened?”

  He fought to con­trol him­self but failed. Agony filled his voice. “It’s not you. An­ces­tors, you’re so per­fect. Ev­ery part of me begs to scream it.”

  She granted him a brief in­ter­lude of si­lence be­fore speak­ing again. “Thanks, but your ex­pres­sion and tone aren’t ex­actly con­vinc­ing me of that.”

  “It’s just—why couldn’t I feel this for Briel?” He flung his arms wide, con­fronting Maryam’s anx­ious gaze. “I’d been with her for over a year. I’ve known you for days. How aw­ful am I?”

  Maryam’s con­fu­sion cleared. She pushed onto his lap, sit­ting there so she could stroke and kiss his face. “Hush. Some­times re­la­tion­ships aren’t meant to be, no mat­ter how good they look on pa­per. We’ve been over this.”

  “It keeps hit­ting me, though. She de­served so much bet­ter than me as her Imdiko.”

  “She de­served a man who shared her in­ter­ests. Just as you de­serve a woman who shares yours.” Maryam framed his face with her hands. “Do you want to hear self­ish­ness? I hate for you to let your con­science ruin one of the most won­der­ful en­coun­ters of my life. I pre­fer to for­get I shouldn’t be with you, not so soon af­ter she died. I want to wal­low in what we just did, in how good it felt. Un­less it wasn’t won­der­ful for you too. Was it?”

  How could she not know what mak­ing love to her had meant to him? “That’s why I’m com­ing apart. Maryam, I can’t stop wish­ing you’d been the woman I’d clanned. I could fall in love with you so eas­ily, the way I couldn’t with Briel.”

  She stared at him, her eyes widen­ing. Con­fu­sion filled her ex­pres­sion, then un­ease.

 

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