by Sue Lyndon
I wince, as I often do when a particularly joyful memory featuring loved ones I’ll never see again flits through my conscious. What I wouldn’t give to sleep under the stars in Sheila’s treehouse one last time.
On this mountain, the lights from the nearest town are occasionally visible through the thick forest, and only the faintest glow of light hovers above the town. Not enough to block out the moons or the stars. There’s no harm in admiring the beauty of Tallia, I decide, even if I am the captive of a fierce alien warrior, a half-human prince who rules with an iron fist, or so I imagine.
It scares me that executions are part of his duties, according to Heggal. Has Kenan killed anyone since I came to live with him? Has he sentenced any of his people to endure other harsh punishments? I wonder what crimes result in executions, and if Kenan ever sentences criminals to imprisonment instead. Though I’ve only been to town once, and it was a short trip, I didn’t see anything that looked like a jail.
Footsteps sound on the stairs, and my stomach does a little flip. The aching in my core intensifies, and my nipples tighten almost painfully. The door slides open and Kenan strides toward me. My gaze falls to the floor at his fierce expression. It’s hard to distinguish whether he’s angry or aroused at times, and though I know from the bulge in his pants he’s about to claim me, there’s still a sternness to his stare that instinctively prompts my eyes down in a show of submission.
“Part your legs,” he commands, standing over me. His shadow blocks out the glow of the nearby sconces, as well as the light of the moon.
Gulping, I move my feet apart and then stand very still, waiting for his next instructions. My heart pounds an erratic rhythm in my chest, and my breaths come faster and faster. Heat envelops my face when I detect the wetness of my arousal on my inner thigh. I glance at him in time to catch his dark knowing look.
“Put your hands behind your head and clasp your fingers together, Laylah.”
He hasn’t touched me yet, and God I’m aching for that first brush of his hand upon my flesh, or for him to grab me hard and squeeze. Oftentimes, he grabs my pussy or my breasts, firmly enough to make me gasp and writhe in his grip. However, now he seems content to torture me with the absence of his touch.
After a deep breath and a whimper I try to hide, I obey his instructions and clasp my fingers together behind my head. This causes my breasts to jut forward, and I feel exceedingly vulnerable and exposed in the center of the room while he circles me, still completely clothed.
Finally, he comes to stand in front of me again and reaches between my legs. But he doesn’t touch my pussy. Instead, he swats my inner thigh, prompting me to gasp.
“Stay very still, little human.” He swats the inside of my other thigh, his flattened fingers leaving behind a faint sting.
I tremble to remain standing in position. The throbbing in my womanly core is pulsing so hot, it’s all I can do not to clamp my legs shut or reach down to stroke myself to bliss. My urgent whimper only draws a dark chuckle from him. He’s reveling in my needy frustration, the bastard.
I strive to remain silent, not wanting to give him the pleasure of knowing how badly I wish he’d touch me already. Pressing my lips tight together, I resolve not to release another whimper, and certainly not a moan.
Walking behind me, he smacks the backs of my thighs, two times each. A delicious pain blooms across my flesh. More moisture trickles down the insides of my thighs, I can feel it on both sides now, a shameful testament to my inability to resist the erotic spell he’s cast upon me.
He rubs my ass then, and I quiver in place, suspecting he’s about to spank me. But what he does next is far more humiliating—he parts my bottom cheeks and kneels behind me to stare at my privates up close. This time I can’t help the whimper. I’ve never felt so embarrassed, but if I close my thighs or try to run away, he’ll make me hurt. There’s a part of me that also doesn’t wish to disappoint him, so I try my best to keep obeying him.
With my ass cheeks still splayed apart, he uses his free hand to delve between my slick nether lips. Spreading my moisture around, he finally succeeds in drawing a moan from me.
“Your little asshole keeps clenching, Laylah. Are you nervous that I will touch you there?”
“Please don’t, Kenan. Please—oh!”
He touches me there. Of course, he does. I jolt in place and try hard not to fight him, though every cell in my body screams for me to run away.
“Relax, little human. I’m simply touching it now, not fucking it.”
My breath leaves me in a rush and my heart skips a beat. One day, he will fuck my ass. I know it, and I can’t stop him. I’m hot all over at the prospect of submitting to him this way, of bending over while he inches his huge cock inside my most secret hole.
To my relief, he simply spreads the moisture from my core atop my anus. I feel myself clenching and flush, unable to stop myself from responding to his prodding touches. He applies the smallest pressure to my hole but doesn’t enter me.
“Such a pretty little puckering hole you have, Laylah.” His voice is deep and guttural.
“Please, Kenan. I’m shaking. I don’t think I can stand here much longer.”
“You will stand here like this for as long as it pleases me, Laylah. Unless you want to be punished. Is that what you want, little human? Do you want a spanking? Perhaps a belt whipping?”
“I’m sorry,” I blurt, chiding myself for begging. I should have known my pleas wouldn’t sway him, and angering him is the last thing I want.
His fingers are everywhere, some in my pussy and at least two still teasing my asshole, rubbing and causing my pucker to clench and unclench every few seconds. The more I try to control it, the more out of control all sensation below my waist feels. I can’t prevent the gathering moisture any more than I can stop my anus from wincing at his gentle touches.
My arms ache from holding position, but I don’t dare remove my hands from my head. His threat of a spanking or a belt whipping is fresh in my mind. Besides, if I’m a good girl, maybe he’ll bring me to pleasure. If I don’t come soon, I’ll be unable to keep from stroking myself—and I can only imagine his displeasure if I break position to rub my clit without permission.
He withdraws from my pussy and asshole, finally releasing my bottom cheeks. I shut my eyes briefly and focus on remaining upright, though my legs tremble harder with each shaky breath. He rises and I hear the familiar sound of clothes being stripped off. My pulse quickens and I pray he’s preparing to fuck me now. I need his cock buried deep inside me, and I need to feel either his balls or his lower stomach impacting upon my clit while he drives into me hard and fast.
Erotic images parade through my mind and I struggle for air. I’m as breathless as after sex and he hasn’t even filled me up yet, hasn’t even given me one deliciously hard thrust.
“Get on the bed, Laylah. On your hands and knees.” His deep rumble sets me ablaze with anticipation, and I scramble to follow his orders.
Once I’ve taken up the new position, he says, “Very nice. Now lean down more, on your forearms, and lift your bottom high. Present your little pink human pussy to me. That’s it. Very good girl.”
Despite myself, I melt under his praising tone.
The mattress dips as he joins me on the bed. “I’m going to pound you hard, Laylah, and you’re going to take it, every single deep, rapid thrust, and when I’ve finished fucking you and filling you with my seed, you will keep holding this position until I say otherwise.”
Chapter Twelve
The first thrust of his huge cock into my pussy steals my breath.
I lean down on my forearms and grip the covers, needing something to hold while he sets a quick tempo of deep strokes into my aching center. I moan at the sensation of his heavy balls hitting my pulsing clit. It only takes seconds for my orgasm to approach, but I try to abstain from coming right away because I’m not sure if he will approve. During our previous times together, he has ordered me to come when it p
leases him.
Mercifully, he seems to sense my budding frustration, because he says, “You can come whenever you wish, Laylah, and as many times as you wish.” His fingers dig into my hips as he pounds into me, each rapid drive pushing me closer to the precipice of a sweet release.
Dark spots dot my vision and I shut my eyes, only for a burst of white to appear as a hard, almost violent, orgasm rips through me, leaving me gasping and spent of all energy. I struggle to remain in place while Kenan continues his fast thrusts.
“Such a good little girl you are, for taking all of my cock like this.”
Again, I melt under his praising tone. I like pleasing him, more than I ought to.
Still keeping one hand on my hip, he grasps my hair and tugs, forcing my back to arch further and allowing his plunges to deepen. A second orgasm builds, and I’m helpless to stop it from sweeping me under. If he hadn’t given me permission to come, I would have probably disobeyed him twice already.
I’m a captive to the pleasure he’s inflicting upon me, the forceful thrusts that send heated tingles through my weakened limbs. I’m drowning in ecstasy, but I can’t honestly say I want to be rescued. I’m content to remain underneath him, my bottom high in the air while he claims what will always be his for the taking.
His deep growls echo in the room, and the sound of flesh hitting flesh grows louder. He’s going to come soon; I can feel it. His cock is swelling larger inside me and his balls feel heavier with each slam against my clit.
A third release pummels through me, and I clutch the covers in desperation. Surely, I’m going to collapse at any moment. I rest my cheek against the sheets and summon the last of my strength to keep my knees in place and my bottom lifted high for Kenan’s rough mating.
Then he erupts inside me, half-groaning, half-growling, as his warm seed shoots into the depths of my core. His harsh breaths tickle the back of my neck.
“Remember that you are to remain here, like this, until you have permission to move, little human.”
“Yes, Kenan,” I say, barely a whisper.
He withdraws from my center, and seconds later the first trickles of his cum escaping my pussy hits my inner thighs. A wave of heat courses through my body. I peek beneath my arms to see he’s staring at my privates, at the very moment his seed is leaking from me. As high as my bottom is lifted, I know he has an unhindered view of my asshole too. The cool breeze drifts inside to caress that particular part of me, reminding me of the exposure and I once again feel the involuntary clenching and unclenching of that secret pucker.
“Three orgasms, Laylah. That’s quite impressive.”
I hide my flushing face in the covers. My knees wobble on the mattress and I wonder how long he’s going to force me to endure this torment. I’m aware of each trickle of his semen escaping my pussy.
He touches my leg and smears his seed across my flesh. Then he dips into my core and smooths a drop of his cum upward, directly on my quivering anus. His satisfied groan resounds in the room, and despite myself, I actually lean into his touch.
“I must confess, little human, I like seeing my cum gleaming atop this cute puckering hole of yours.”
Spasms of heat besiege my sore pussy. I can’t believe the effect his words and his touch have on me. He continues tormenting me for several minutes, gliding more of his semen over my asshole, but to my relief, he doesn’t push a finger inside.
“You pussy is dark pink, swollen, and glistening with a mixture of your arousal and my cum. I think I’ll aim to keep you looking this way always—well-fucked and dripping with my seed.”
A shuddering gasp leaves me. Oh my God. His crass words alone are going to propel me into a fourth orgasm. I try to shut my brain off, but it doesn’t work. He’s created an incessant throb in my core that only he can quench. I lift my hips against his hand and whimper, pleading for his help. I’m exhausted and want nothing more than to curl up and fall asleep in his arms, but how could I possibly drift off until my needs have been sated? I didn’t think having two, let alone three, orgasms during one lovemaking session was possible, yet here I am begging for him to grant me a fourth release.
“Do you have any idea how largely swollen your clit is, Laylah?” His words are strained, threaded with a dark but sexy growl.
“I-I can’t help it,” I say, flushing hot all over.
“Do you want to come again?”
“I…” I should say no, but I’m not sure I have the strength to refuse the pleasure he’s possibly offering.
“Answer the question and be honest. Do you want to come again, little human?”
“Y-yes, Kenan. Very badly.”
Before I can inhale another breath, his mouth descends to my throbbing clit. He circles my engorged nubbin with precise movements, applying the perfect amount of pressure. I lift my bottom even higher to give him better access. He feasts on me, and I surrender to the building euphoria of his tongue lashing on my most sensitive spot. Gyrating my hips in tune with the steady motion of his tongue, I cry out and shatter into a million pieces, panting hard and trying desperately not to collapse on the bed.
I feel him withdraw from my center, and then he lifts me in his arms and carries me into the bathroom. I rest my head against his sweat drenched chest, reveling in his maleness and smiling in contentment—because I know he’s carried me in here to take care of me.
There’s a huge bathtub across from the shower, and he props me on his knee while he fills the tub with steaming water. He tosses a cube of soap in that instantly makes the water bubbly. I’ve taken showers with Kenan before, but never a bath, and I hope he joins me. I want nothing more than to lean against him in the warm water and listen to the steady beating of his heart.
When the tub is full, he shuts the water off and rises with me still in his arms, then he steps into the bath and sinks down with me in his lap. I curl into him, relishing the feel of the soothing warm water and his strong embrace. Will I ever become accustomed to the ways of his people? I think of Helena’s mate teaching English to Kleaxian males and wonder if perhaps the presence of human females will have a lasting effect on the culture of Tallia. Maybe if we both meet in the middle and strive to understand one another, our two cultures can meld together, rather than the Kleaxians forcing all human females to bend completely to their ways.
Kenan rubs my back and murmurs in my ear, uttering what I hope are heartfelt phrases in his own tongue. I hang on every syllable, intoxicated by his deep rumbling voice. His tone is always more guttural and savage sounding when he’s speaking his own language.
After we rest in the water for several minutes, he begins running a soapy cloth over every inch of my body. As he washes me, his eyes gleam with the tenderness I’ve come to crave more and more. Does he love me? I think he must, in his own way, but I don’t dare ask. Even if he utters those three words, I’m not sure what I would do with them, or how I would respond. My heart is softening to you, Kenan, though I wish it weren’t so, is the most honest reply I could offer.
Once we’re both clean and dried off, we don robes and he leads me down the hall, to the steep staircase that ascends to the roof. I’ve been there before during the daytime, when I’ve gone exploring on my own, but never during the full brilliance of a clear Tallian night.
He directs me to peer over the forest far behind his house, and I gasp at the incredible sight of huge blinking orbs sailing over the trees.
“Are those bugs?” Even from this distance, I can tell they are larger than fireflies. Perhaps as large as bats, but glowing pink and white.
“Yes, very big bugs. Harmless, though. They are called teasnin yerlosis, which translates to watchers of the night. It is said they bring good luck to all who wish upon them.”
“Like shooting stars,” I say, in awe of the sea of lights floating above the vast forest.
“What?”
“On Earth, it’s considered good luck to make a wish upon a shooting star. Or upon the first star you see at night.” But
I’d learned at a young age that wishing on stars was nothing but superstition. Wishing on a star never brought my grandmother back. Wishing on a star never made my mother stop crying after my brother died.
“Did the Kleaxian’s planet of origin have such bugs?”
He nods and draws me closer, and I welcome the warmth of his huge body next to mine, chasing away the cool breeze. “We brought several species native to Kleaxia with us on our journey to Tallia, including the teasnin yerlosis.”
“Oh. What other kinds of species did you bring to Tallia?”
“The blue birds you probably saw flying overhead while we were on the lake. Those are called teasnin ghelosst, or watchers of the water. We also brought several varieties of fish. We don’t typically eat creatures that roam the forests and prefer species from the lakes and oceans, as I’m sure you’ve surmised from the meals served each day.”
“That surprises me.” At his confused look, I continue, “As fierce and strong a people as Kleaxians are, I am rather shocked you don’t hunt bears or large cats in the forests for meat. On Earth, hunting has remained a popular sport for thousands of years. Even though most humans don’t need to hunt for survival, many do so because they enjoy it. Some eat the meat from their kill, while others simply go trophy hunting.”
The moonlight illuminates his ruggedly handsome face. My neck hurts from always staring up at him, but I can’t look away. “If it came to survival, Kleaxians would have no problem hunting bears or large cats for food, however fish and other sea and lake creatures are more nutritious and more easy metabolized by our bodies.”
“Ah, I suppose that makes sense,” I reply quietly, then lower my head to relieve the ache in my neck. “Thank you for showing me the watchers of the night. This view, it’s breathtaking.”