His Human Possession (Zandian Masters 8)

He lifted his chin. “You will be sorry. Roll over.”

“Master—”

He tucked his fingers under her pelvis and flipped her to her stomach. “Do you have any idea what I wanted to do to those males?”

Every second of the scolding nourished her on some level she’d never been fed. This went beyond any sexual power she’d wielded with other males. It wasn’t about gaining his interest or getting him hard.

This warrior was ready to fight for her. The menace in his tone suggested maybe even kill for her.

“I’m sorry, Master. I won’t do it again.”

He shoved a pillow under her hips, lifting them for her punishment.

She covered her ass with her hands, not because she was scared—well, maybe she was a little scared—but more to slow him down. Get him to talk more before he whipped her.

He snatched her wrists and cinched them together in one of his large palms and then the whoosh of the strap swinging through the air preceded the first hard thwap.

“Ow!” she jumped and listed to the side. “Master, please.”

“Mmm.” He made a sound of satisfaction and whipped her again.

A second line of fire seared just below the first one. It was nothing in the scheme of things. It wouldn’t hurt for long, wouldn’t harm her, and yet she let up a protest. Maybe because she thought he’d like it. Maybe because she knew she could.

She rolled and wriggled and gasped as he brought the leather strap down again and again across her buttocks. “Ouch! That hurts, Master. Please.”

He didn’t stop. Didn’t hold back. “That’s right, pretty female—beg. I vecking love the sounds you make when I hurt you.”

So she whimpered. Mewled. Gasped. Cursed.

It hurt but it also satisfied her on every level. Like his passion, his anger, this whipping showed her the depth of his emotions. She loved his raw response to jealousy, loved feeling the bite of his retribution.

And maybe because her orgasm had been cut short, it made her grind against the pillow, the need for release growing with each stinging stroke.

And when it truly grew too intense—when the pain got on top of her, she begged in earnest. “Paal, please! It’s too much.”

And, miraculously, he somehow recognized the difference. Understood when it had gone far enough, because he immediately stopped, tossing the strap onto the sleepdisk beside her head.

“Forgive me,” he murmured, his huge palms gripping her ass. He squeezed her cheeks roughly with a ragged groan. “Whipping you gives me such pleasure.”

She closed her eyes, physical relief rushing through her limbs as the soft glow of satisfaction at his words melted something in her chest.

He shoved her legs wide and licked a long line from her pussy to her anus.

She jolted, would’ve popped right off the sleepdisk, but he held her down, licking around her anus, shocking all sorts of sounds from her lips. It was pleasure and embarrassment and more of that growing need all at once.

“I can smell your nectar, Leticia. You haven’t been vecked enough yet, have you?”

“No,” she whined her admission.

“Good.” His weight disappeared from the sleepdisk and she started to get up from her position, but he barked, “Don’t vecking move.”

Her pussy clenched, excitement zinging through her. She stilled, every nerve ending on high alert, waiting to see what came next.

“I vecking loved the way you humped that pillow while I whipped you, beautiful. Show me again. What were you doing?”

She reached to slide her hand between her legs but Paal caught her elbow. “Uh uh. Yo

u don’t touch yourself. Only I get to control when and how you get pleasure. Understand?”