Mastered by the Zandians (Zandian Brides 3)

again,” he orders, so I do, exultation flooding me. “Yes, I love it when you get wild,” he growls.

Lanz feels the shift in energy; bites my inner thigh hard enough to make me gasp; then again. Again.

I love the bites of pain in the pleasure. Each pop of pain is like a step, taking me higher and higher, allowing me even better appreciation of this amazing sensation in my clit. All I know is that I need to get it, give it, be it.

“I think it’s time to punish her now,” Lanz says suddenly, taking his head from between my thighs.

“No…” I moan, irritated beyond belief at this course change. “You put your head right back and do...the thing you were doing. Now.” I glower at him.

He laughs. “It’s so cute that you think you’re in control here.”

He stands up. “Stand, Mirelle.”

Domm assists me to make it happen, or possibly is entirely the reason I find myself on my feet, panting, his hands supporting me from behind around my waist. “Say, yes, Master,” he growls, “when one of us gives you a command.”

“Lie over Domm’s lap,” orders Lanz, “and spread your thighs, and ask him very nicely to spank your ass red for causing so much trouble.” He presses a finger to my body, dipping it into my pussy. Stroking.

“It’s the only way you get my tongue back where you want it,” murmurs Lanz. “If you submit to us, we reward you. Every vecking time. And I promise you’ll like what we do.”

A mere ten minutes ago, this would have made me want to kill him. In this moment, learning how pleasure and pain combine so well in my body, I’m more inclined to submit. And truly, I sense that he isn’t going to hurt me. He’s going to use this insane mixture of pain and pleasure to make me even more satisfied. I don’t know what kind of magic these Zandians have learned to tweak the human female body, but it works.

“Yes, Master,” I breathe, telling myself I’m only acting, saying what they require of me until I escape. The truth is I don’t care how abased I sound. Because if I do what he wants, it means he’s going to put his tongue back where I need it.

As if in a dream, I move forward, and clamber up onto Domm’s lap. I can’t believe this is me, doing this. But I have no desire to be anywhere but here.

“Good,” he says, and taps my ass once with his palm.

I flinch at the touch, and he strokes my thighs until I relax into his body, letting myself drape over him without clenching muscles.

“Nice and easy, just like that,” he whispers, bending his head down so I can feel his breath on my skin. “And keep that ass soft while I spank you.”

I hear it first, the crack of his palm against my skin, the sound echoing around the chamber. Then I feel the sting, an abrupt new sensation.

“Ow.” I twist, but he’s holding me tightly.

“No complaining.” He spanks me again. It’s harder, and I breathe into it. I’m no stranger to pain; a fighter outlaw suffers more breaks and sprains than you can imagine.

But I’ve never experienced this particular kind of pain, where it’s trained on my most sensitive areas, and given in a deliberate and conscious mix with pleasure. It’s intoxicating. Even being held down— something that would normally make me inflamed, is pleasurable.

“Remind me why I need to spank you.” His voice is firm, authoritative.

“Start with an apology,” Lanz suggests, holding my ankles in his hands. In the midst of my sensations, I notice he holds my body, delicately but firmly, his hands wrapped around my ankles, stroking the bones with his thumbs. It’s erotic and exotic and for a second I forget about what Domm is doing.

It comes back to me, though, when he slaps my ass again. “Mirelle, I’m waiting.”

“I’m sorry you’re an animal.” I pant out the words, and even though I know it’s going to mean a new assault on my already sore ass, I smile to myself in victory when he grunts in surprise and irritation. “Ha.”

“An animal, is that right?” He spanks my thighs, a rapid fire of spanks.

“Ow. Stop!” I twist down. “I’ll bite you.”

“You just try it.” He laughs. “Little vipn. Maybe you need the strap instead.”

“You can use my sword belt.” Lanz lets go of my ankles for a second, and then I hear a swishing sound as he removes the strip of leather from his waist. “Double it over and give her a dozen or so strokes. I imagine that will make her more likely to listen.”

“No, don’t,” I moan. But we all hear the tone, which actually seems to say, “Yes, please, do it.” I’m a little horrified to hear such a sound from my own throat. Is it horrible that I actually like what they’re doing to me right now? That I actually wonder what a belt will feel like across my bare skin?

Then I don’t care anymore, because Domm shifts me off his lap, back up to my feet. “It’s your belt, so why don’t you do the honors. I’d like to see her face while you strap her.”