She was a very bad girl. A very naughty…
“Ow!” His palm landed harder. Lower. Almost off her cheeks, almost over her actual pussy.
“You are a disobedient little ensign,” he lectured, inadvertently making the entire experience a thousand times hotter. “I will not tolerate it, do you understand? Each and every time you disobey orders I will come for you and I will make you good and sore, little human.”
Jerri drew a hissed breath through clenched teeth. How had she still not come yet? Her clit felt like it was absolutely about to burst with need. She was so swollen and she was sure she was wet too. But would he know what that meant? Probably not. She hoped not.
She stuffed the side of her hand into her mouth and bit down enough to stop herself from outright moaning with pleasure as the next swat landed lower still, stinging her upper thighs. She felt part of his textured palm rub briefly and inadvertently against her pussy lips, and she almost went over the verge then and there. It took all her willpower to hold off, as she was sensing that orgasm would ruin everything. If he noticed, there’d be hell to pay, and if he didn’t notice the searing heat of the ongoing punishment was going to be almost intolerable. She had to hold onto this energy. It was simultaneously her escape and her reward.
Again his palm landed low. Was he doing this on purpose? Did he know? She would have had to see his face to get a clue and there was no way she would have looked him in the eye right now even if she could. This was the filthiest, most subversive thing she had engaged in for a long time. She fucking loved it.
Again and again that palm landed, sometimes catching her dead center of her cheeks, other times on her thighs. And every now and again, right in the center of it all, the lower parts of her cheeks and the upper parts of her thighs, directly over her sex. More than once the edge of his palm brushed against her pussy in a light swiping motion that could plausibly have been accidental and yet made it almost impossible for her not to come.
She was being tormented in the most inadvertent of ways, driven ever closer to losing control. Jerri could not lose control. If she lost control, then he would have control, and that she could not allow. So she held onto her orgasm for all she was worth, keeping herself right on that edge, not allowing the energy to flow through her, but instead keeping it dammed up inside. This was the most potent, powerful sexual experience in her life.
Again.
Again.
Again.
His palm kept up that quick, whipping tattoo, like he was drumming against the taut, hot skin of her ass. She began to emit a low, near constant moan that she hoped he would mistake for some kind of submissive sound.
Whether he did or he didn’t, he certainly spanked her harder than before, more roughly, and with ever increasing lecturing.
“Don’t you dare ever run from me again when I intend to punish you.”
There was no chance of that happening, not now that she knew his punishment was better than sex.
“If I see you so much as move an inch when I come to deal with you, there will be your proverbial human hell to pay,” he growled. The arm holding her in place snugged tighter, pulling her closer, keeping her flailing body in his grasp. She drew in a short, sharp breath, sensing that this heralded some change in the punishment.
She was not wrong in her intuition. A crescendo of slaps landed across her ass, each one harder than the last. Finally, she couldn’t hold back anymore. She had been on the verge of orgasm for what felt like an eternity, and with the even more intense punishment, the final barrier gave way. Some orgasmic switch was flipped and she wailed at the top of her lungs, every muscle in her body tense and taut with the work of exploding pleasure throughout every part of her being.
Jerri felt him stop spanking her just as the orgasm subsided. She was left panting over his thighs. What perfect timing, or perhaps utter mercy that was.
Atlas looked down at his suddenly passive human subordinate. She had certainly undergone a transformation in attitude. That was the aim of the exercise, but something told him that he was yet to achieve what he wanted where she was concerned. He could smell her so strongly he could taste her, some essence from between her legs indicating… was it arousal? Surely not. And yet, perhaps…
She was holding her thighs clamped together now. He could no longer see the delicate mound of her sex, but he could detect a certain gleam of need at the apex of her thighs. That was what he was smelling. Her desire. Her need. Her…