by Ivy Barrett
“‘Earned’ my pleasure? Isn’t that what I just did?”
“No. That was to test the sincerity of your offer. You must help me punish Roark if you want to come.”
Her gaze shot to the younger man. Roark’s eyes gleamed with rebellion and he’d pressed his mouth into a grim line.
“I don’t want him punished because of me,” she said softly. “That’s why I made the offer.”
Mal Ton’s arms tensed then he slid her down along his body until her feet touched the floor. “He’s going to be punished because he failed to follow orders. It has nothing to do with you.”
“He disregarded your orders because of me.” She looked into Mal Ton’s eyes, refusing to back down. Had she only imagined the odd amber flash? The image wouldn’t leave her mind. “If he hadn’t felt compelled to comfort me, he never would have displeased you.”
“Are you willing to take his punishment for him?”
“No!” Roark grabbed Mal Ton’s arm, but the commander twisted away without taking his eyes off Andrea.
“If you’ll offer no other compromise, then punish me.”
Mal Ton rubbed his chin as he studied her. “Another negotiation? I thought you were a scientist, not a diplomat.”
Staring into his jewel-bright gaze, a wicked image formed within her mind. She was once again bound and helpless, utterly at his command. When she looked at Roark, she longed to be held and caressed, coaxed to sweet climaxes that left her sleepy and satisfied. Mal Ton, on the other hand, stirred dangerous desires she never knew she possessed.
“According to you, I’m your pleasure servant, contractually obligated to obey.”
He shook his head and brushed her cheek with his knuckles. “No more games, remember? Are you ready to be disciplined?”
“I…” She licked her lips and nodded her head.
His hand cupped her chin and he leaned down, bringing his mouth near hers. “Fear heightens excitement. There is nothing wrong with being afraid.”
* * *
Roark wanted to howl. Protectiveness surged through him as desire tore at his gut. He wanted to yank Andrea away from Mal Ton and wrap her in his arms. He would never allow Mal Ton to hurt her. She didn’t need to be afraid.
But part of her needed the brutal passion Mal Ton controlled so effortlessly. Roark could see it in her eyes, smell it in the tantalizing musk emanating from her body. He wanted to lick her, to shove his tongue into her cunt and taste her passion. How could he hope to shield her from Mal Ton when his cravings were nearly as savage?
With a verbal command, Mal Ton triggered a panel in the ceiling above the bed. A pulley descended. Velvet-lined shackles dangling from one side and a braided cord from the other. He halted the descent when the cuffs were suspended just above Andrea’s head. She didn’t have to be told what to do. Lifting her arms, she slipped her wrists into the cuffs and Mal Ton activated the locks.
Thrust forward by the arch of her back, her breasts swayed, the nipples deeply flushed and distended. Gods, she was aroused. Had she enjoyed having Mal Ton’s cock in her mouth? Roark gave himself a firm mental shake. She had every right to enjoy Mal Ton’s body. If anything, he was the intruder.
“You are fashioned for fucking,” Mal Ton told her with his usual candor. “Your breasts are soft yet firm, your legs long and strong. And your ass has tormented me ever since I saw it draped in that clingy evening gown.” Drawing the cord through the pulley, he smoothly hauled her to her feet.
She had been draped in Mal Ton’s jacket the first time Roark saw her and she’d been more or less naked ever since. His neglected cock twitched as his gaze swept the length of her supple body. He dragged his gaze back to her face as Mal Ton tightened the cord connected to her restraints.
Mal Ton twisted the cord at a precise angle and the brake engaged, keeping the cable from slipping. Without taking his gaze off Andrea, Mal Ton said, “Go get one of your belts and hand it to me.”
Roark tensed, anger and denial roaring through his soul. “Why?”
Their gazes locked and clashed. “Now.” He didn’t raise his voice, but his expression made it obvious he wouldn’t back down.
Each time Mal Ton had spanked her, she’d grown restless and aroused. Mal Ton knew how to swing a belt. Hell, he knew how to use every implement of punishment ever invented. Still, Roark hesitated. They were so far off course from their original plan, he wasn’t even sure what Mal Ton was hoping to accomplish. Other than pushing her boundaries and arousing everyone.
“She spared you punishment with her obedience. Don’t nullify her efforts.”
Heaving a frustrated sigh, Roark went to his closet and looked at his belts. Which hurt worse, wide or narrow? Unlike Mal Ton, Roark was not familiar with doling out pain. He glanced at Mal Ton. “Wide or narrow.”
“Wide.”
Roark unhooked his widest belt, having no choice but to trust Mal Ton’s judgment. Then he crossed to the commander and handed him the belt.
“Stand where you can see this clearly. She’s doing this for you, so you will count out each stroke.”
Knowing Mal Ton could sense his emotions, Roark allowed protective anger to blast through his mind. He’d known Mal Ton for decades and had trusted him in numerous life and death situations. Still, this was different. Roark had never cared for anyone the way he cared for Andrea.
Relax. She needs this. End of story.
The telepathic reassurance was small consolation as Mal Ton swung the belt. Roark flinched as synthetic leather met delicate flesh with a resounding slap. She gasped, then whimpered, her hands closing into fists.
“Count,” Mal Ton prompted.
Roark glared at him. “One.”
Mal Ton acknowledged the call with a nod, then swung again.
She cried out, body shuddering as the belt hit her ass. “That really hurts.”
“It’s supposed to. Breathe through the pain and try not to tense up.”
“Can’t you do something else instead? I didn’t realize—”
Her words were cut off by his next stroke. She screamed, butt clenching as the harsh sensations ricocheted through her body. Roark had to look away. Distinct stripes rose almost immediately across her creamy skin. Thank the gods he couldn’t see her face.
“You’re not counting,” Mal Ton snapped. “Shall I start over?”
“No! That was number three.”
Mal Ton swung again, skillfully aiming the belt at an unmarked area of her round bottom. Roark watched the belt connect and helplessly clenched his fists. She endured it in relative stillness, only wiggling as the pain made it unavoidable. He counted each stroke, hating himself more with each passing moment. Why had he agreed to this pointless ruse? They were still no close to a cure.
She was sobbing by the time Mal Ton delivered the sixth swat and Roark wanted to kill him. “Six. How many are you going to give her?” He forced warning into each word.
“She’s already tender from her other punishments, so we’ll allow that to suffice.”
Roark dipped his head and unclenched his fists, finally able to breathe normally.
“Get something to soothe the welts.”
Happy to obey that order, Roark rushed into the adjacent clinic and found an analgesic cream. It wouldn’t numb the pain entirely, just decrease the intensity a notch or two.
He returned to the bedroom and carefully spread the cream across her welted bottom. She gradually stopped sobbing and seemed to relax. “Does that feel better?”
Her only response was a nod and a fresh rush of guilt washed over him.
Mal Ton motioned him back then moved closer. “Spread your legs. I want to find out if you’re as wet as you smell.” Roark groaned. She moved her feet apart and made room for Mal Ton’s hand. “Oh, yes. So very wet. Shall I finger-fuck you before I eat you or can you wait to come until my tongue is deep inside you?”
She threw back her head and cried out as she came around Mal Ton’s fingers. Roark closed his eyes. How he
loved that sound! It eased his guilt and forced him to accept the fact that she was enjoying this. Despite her screams and sobs, she’d nearly come while Mal Ton spanked her with the belt. He exhaled slowly and opened his eyes.
“She still needs to be trained,” Mal Ton told him. “If you don’t have what we need here, you know where to find them.”
If Andrea had shown the least bit of hesitation, Roark would have refused.
Mal Ton knelt in front of her and lifted one of her legs to his shoulder. His fingers were still buried in her core. “Roark!” He dragged his hungry gaze away from her pussy and looked into Mal Ton’s eyes. “Get busy.”
He nodded. It was best to do this while she was good and distracted. He hurried to the nightstand and set down the cream, then unwrapped one of the slender dildos he enjoyed on occasion. They were disposable and already lubricated but he grabbed a separate tube of lubricant just to be sure.
His breath caught in his throat when he turned around. They were so damn beautiful together. Her body arched, accenting the swell of her breasts and the luscious curve of her pink striped ass. One slender leg draped over Mal Ton’s broad shoulder and his hands grasped her firmly. His caramel-colored fingers were a sharp contrast to her smooth, ivory skin.
Mal Ton traced her slit, touching her only with the tip of his tongue. Her lips were parted and her eyes were closed. She wiggled, trying to increase the contact between her sex and Mal Ton’s mouth. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Roark realized the commander was stalling, waiting for him to take his place.
Roark wasn’t opposed to anal play, but Andrea seemed genuinely afraid.
You heard her say she wants us both. Mal Ton knew he couldn’t respond telepathically, but the commander’s thoughts were crystal clear. If either of us hopes to enter her without causing her serious pain, she needs to be trained.
Roark held up the dildo meaningfully then quickly ducked behind her before she opened her eyes. Mal Ton’s hands moved to her ass, carefully pulling her rosy cheeks apart. Roark watched as the commander’s tongue flicked over her folds and circled her opening. Then he moved on. Roark could no longer see but her soft gasp told him where Mal Ton had taken his caressing tongue.
Unable to deprive his gaze of her cream-soaked pussy, Roark coated his fingers with lube. Her anus was tiny, delicately puckered and amazingly… Could an asshole be beautiful? Instead of smearing her with his fingers as he’d intended, he moved in close and circled her with his tongue.
“What are you—Roark!”
Her frantic twisting only pressed her mound against Mal Ton’s mouth. Shocked by the carnality of his desire, Roark pushed against her puckered little hole until the tip of his tongue slipped inside. All of her! He wanted to know every part of her intimately. Mal Ton held her open as Roark pushed even deeper. Roark pulled out then pushed back in. He didn’t want to stop. A cold, artificial cock couldn’t feel her muscles surrender or contract in violent climax. She was his. She was theirs!
Roark tossed the toy aside and stroked his tongue across her anus then around then back inside. She squirmed and yelped, calling him a pervert, her voice tremulous.
Mal Ton released her bottom and thrust two fingers into her core. The forceful motion rocked her back against Roark. He withdrew his tongue and drove his slick middle finger up her ass as far as he could reach.
She wants this so badly I don’t think she’ll care if it hurts. Fuck that, I think she needs the pain. Lube up your cock. I’m going to lower her onto you.
With his finger sliding in and out of her ass, Roark leaned around Andrea, trying to capture Mal Ton’s gaze. There was no way he was going to intentionally hurt her.
I feel your uncertainty. If she doesn’t come as soon as you’re buried inside her, you can punish me!
Roark pulled his finger out with infinite slowness and she whimpered.
“Why did you stop?” Her needy tone added credence to Mal Ton’s claim.
Pausing long enough to liberally coat his cock with lube, Roark got to his feet and grasped the cable connected to her restraints. Mal Ton licked and sucked on her clit until she trembled on the brink of orgasm then he shifted both her legs to his elbows and pushed to his feet. Roark dragged the cord through the pulley, keeping the tension on her arms steady.
“Kiss me, kitten. See if you like the taste of your cream.”
Mal Ton’s throaty command stabbed into Roark’s lust-addled brain. He wanted to taste her cream—he wanted… everything. The commander moved steadily toward him. Roark angled himself into position and Mal Ton did the rest. With firm, steady pressure, Mal Ton impaled her on Roark’s cock.
Her sphincter stubbornly protested his entry. The tight collar of muscle stretched. With a strangled cry, she tore her mouth away from Mal Ton’s. “I can’t. It hurts!” She tossed her head and tried to buck but Mal Ton held her tightly.
“Don’t fight this. Take him. Take all of him now!”
To Roark’s astonishment, she relaxed and his shaft slipped deeper.
“Better. Now take the rest. Lean against me and push out.”
She groaned until her soft, warm ass cheeks pressed flush against his groin.
“I hate you,” she whispered.
“No, you don’t.” Mal Ton kissed her for a long time while she adjusted to the invasion.
Roark was doing good just to breathe. She was unbelievably tight and hot and… perfect. Mal Ton shifted her gradually, changing the angle of her body until she rested against Roark’s chest.
Secure the cable and take her legs. I’m going to make you both come.
An instant after Roark slipped his arms under her knees, Mal Ton kissed his way down to her breasts. He didn’t linger long over her beaded nipples but sank to his knees between her wide-spread thighs.
“I feel like a supplicant before a fertility goddess.” He opened her with his thumbs. “Please accept my offering.”
Roark couldn’t see once Mal Ton bowed his head, but he could feel the effects of the commander’s caress. She trembled and moaned then her ass clenched rhythmically. It was bliss and it was torture. He wanted to thrust, but he knew that would hurt her and Mal Ton hadn’t said he could move.
His balls tingled, pulling up tighter than he thought possible. The back of her head hit his shoulder and her ass ruthlessly milked his cock. With a bewildered cry, Roark came too, shuddering violently as he released his seed.
* * *
Andrea consciously unclenched her fists and opened her eyes. Flickers of light dissipated with each blink until the bedroom came back into focus. Mal Ton knelt before her, his fingers gently tracing her slit. He raised his gaze and she whimpered. Ravenous. Deep in his gaze, the amber glow had returned. How could a man who had just feasted on pussy look utterly ravenous?
The question made nervous laughter bubble inside her. Roark nuzzled her neck and his cock still impaled her. Mal Ton had forced her onto that long, thick cock and she had loved everything about it. The possessive determination in his eyes and the overwhelming fullness, even the searing pain had driven her senses to a whole new echelon of pleasure.
“Ready for more?”
“More?” Her voice cracked on the word.
“You’re looking rather sleepy and the good doctor can hardly stand. I, on the other hand, am far from satisfied.” He chose that moment to rise and his erection bobbed back into view.
“No way! If you put that inside me while Roark is—”
“Relax. I have something else in mind.”
She felt the tension on her arms increase and Mal Ton slipped his arms under her knees. His cock pressed against her pussy. Roark lifted her off his shaft and the slow, outward slide sent heat spiraling up her spine.
“Oh,” she gasped. “Is that what it will feel like when he moves?”
“Yes, but you’re not quite ready for that—yet.”
As Roark withdrew the last millimeter, Mal Ton began his entry. Suspended and helpless, all she could do was
surrender to the persistent drive. She dropped her head back on her shoulders and a soft keening sound escaped her throat. He was huge and she was already tender. Roark took her face between his hands and pressed his mouth over hers. The upside-down kiss was warm and soothing, her inner muscles gradually relaxed.
She could do this. She was ‘fashioned for fucking.’ The phrase had annoyed her before. It sent feminine power surging through her now. She licked Roark’s lips and whispered, “I want to watch. Don’t you?”
Roark growled and stepped away. She almost called him back, thinking she had angered him, but he approached a bare section of the wall and uttered an alien phrase. The panel turned reflective and she smiled.
Mal Ton was between her thighs, her pale skin the perfect foil for his magnificent body. His arms bunched and flexed as he shifted her weight. He moved one of her ankles to his shoulder and pushed in the rest of the way. Tingles detonated along the entire length of her sheath as his balls lightly slapped her tender ass. Her gaze fixed on the spot where their bodies connected, waiting for his withdrawal. He pulled back slowly. His shaft emerged, shining with her juices. God, had all that really been inside her?
His next thrust focused her attention on the exquisite fullness. Her nipples ached for attention, but his thick shaft rubbed against her clit with each long stroke. He kept her hips tilted so they could all watch his cock sink into her core again and again.
She was fascinated by the graphic tableau. Watching each motion accented the resulting sensation. Had her breasts always been so full? She’d never thought of herself as beautiful, so why did watching this savage warrior claim her body make her feel gorgeous? There was nothing gentle in the act. He fucked her ruthlessly and the more aggressive he became, the more wanton she felt.
Roark pressed against her back, supporting and bracing her so Mal Ton could thrust faster. She turned her head, craning her neck, and Roark pressed his mouth over hers. Soon his tongue took on the rhythm of Mal Ton’s cock. Pressed between them, filled with them, it was easy to imagine the next step. Roark would move in her ass while Mal Ton filled her core…