Mastered by the Zandians (Zandian Brides 3)

“Gladly.” Lanz arranges me as easily as if I were made of paper, pushing my torso down to Domm’s lap and kicking my legs apart. “Hold her hands.”

Domm holds my hands in one of his larger ones and tips up my chin gently. “Tell me why we’re punishing you.”

I pant. “Because you’re evil.”

Lanz slaps my ass hard enough to bring tears to my eyes.

“Try again. We’ll keep trying until you get it right.” Domm raises a brow, his face serious. His horns are so firm I crave taking one in my mouth. But I can’t now, because they are bent on punishing me.

“I’m sorry my mission interfered with your lives and was partially responsible for the Ocretion attack,” I gasp.

“Partially?” Lanz spanks me again, and I cry out. If this is his hand, how will I ever handle the strap?

“Well, don't you think that your own free will was responsible for at least part of your...ow!” I wail, as he brings down the strap. The bite of the leather is a line of fire across my ass. “Mother Earth.”

“Look at that gorgeous mark.” Lanz runs his hand over my burning skin. I flinch. “Domm, should we go for one dozen, or two?”

“Start with a good hard twelve, and we’ll see from there.” Domm holds my chin again. “Mirelle, look at me.”

My eyes swim with tears, not really from pain—pain doesn’t make me cry—but more from the newness of this intimate position, my confusion at liking it, and anger at being made to apologize.

“And this spanking is also to remind you to be obedient and respectful in front of our king,” he says. “And to respect our authority as your Zandian hosts.”

“Punishment,” agrees Lanz, bringing down the strap across my thighs, “can be used for more than one purpose.”

“Quite useful, definitely.” Domm cradles my head and lifts my torso enough to kiss me, just as Lanz brings the strap down again, so hard that I cry out.

My sound is lost in Domm’s lips, and as he slants his mouth over mine, I kiss him back. I wonder if he worries or cares that I might bite him when the strap comes down. Then I do it, and as he growls fiercely into my mouth and returns the kiss, I realize that he likes it. He likes it rough, like I do. They both do. This is perfect.

Time fades into a blur, as Lanz whips me over and over with the strap, and Domm looks into my eyes, kisses me, strokes my cheeks.

The pain is sharp and strong, although not unbearable, and as the two of them work my body, I start to feel floaty. How odd, to feel this safe and secure—protected, almost, while I’m being punished. It makes no sense, but yet it’s true, and my eyes flutter shut, and instead of saying, ow! I’m murmuring, Oh, Oh, in a voice that sounds more encouraging than upset. I lift my ass up to meet his belt, even though the sting is wild and fierce.

“Look how vecking red her ass is.” Lanz straps me again and I moan, shift my thighs.

“And she’s so wet, too. I can smell her pussy from here.” Domm’s voice is harsh with need.

“She’s ready for us.”

“But first we need to finish her punishment.”

“Of course.”

They pause for a moment. I whine out in irritation, and shift my thighs, asking them with my body to continue.

“Last set,” Lanz says, his voice firm.

This time, when the belt comes down, it’s harder than before, and I can see how much he was holding back. “Ouch!” I cry out, angry and frustrated he switched it up. I liked it before, when the pleasure swirled through it. This time, it just hurts.

“This is the punishment,” Lanz tells me. “It’s supposed to hurt.”

And when he spanks me rapidly, setting my ass on fire, I feel the difference. There’s no time to breathe between strokes, no time to let the pleasure grow. No, all I feel is the sting and burn. And the lecture—that burns, too.

“You are going to listen to us while you are here,” he instructs. “You will show respect to our king. You’ll do your best to integrate into our society. You won’t cause trouble.”

I can barely focus on his words.

“You are not going to steal anything from us.”