Page 18 of Surrender
She watched Merokk studying her and felt small and vulnerable under his gaze. His erect cock rested on her stomach. She tried not to stare, but it was so damn big. His chest was broad, sculpted, and hairless. She guessed the Kall didn’t have much body hair besides that on their head, which made her exceedingly glad she’d had laser hair removal on her body long ago.
Minutes passed and she grew uneasy. She had to break the silence.
“Merokk—”
Without warning, he struck the underside of her right breast with his flattened fingers. It wasn’t a hard slap and she only felt the slightest sting, but the sudden smack still shocked her.
She twisted and pulled at the restraints, but he seemed to only enjoy her distress. A pleased look replaced his frown, and he began to methodically slap both of her breasts, always hitting the fleshy underside. It didn’t hurt. Not really. But no one had ever done anything like this to Fiona before, and the newness of it was hard to accept—that this Kall, her husband, had her tied up and at his complete mercy while he smacked her breasts.
As he continued, it was all she could do to keep from emitting a groan of pleasure. Because as the sting—slight as it was—built and built, the aching in her core deepened, to the point that she longed for him to reach for her nether lips and stroke her all over again.
Even as he focused on her tender breasts, her hips lurched upward now and then. To her mortification, she was unable to stop the movements from happening. It was as if her body were responding to Merokk and her brain couldn’t override the base desires coursing through her. She was putty in his hands, helpless against the deep yearning he was evoking within her.
A wave of disbelief shot through her. He had her tied up and he was punishing her breasts, just for the sheer pleasure of it, apparently. His cock swelled larger and the occasional deep growl resounded from his chest. His eyes darkened further, and a quiver of warmth mixed with fear tingled inside her, causing her breath to hitch.
The slaps became harder and she gasped, once again struggling against the restraints. She tried to wiggle away from Merokk, but with her legs spread so wide and his huge body blocking her way, she couldn’t move much. Frustration filled her and she released a desperate whimper. She gave him her most pleading look, hoping he would ease up on her soon and show her a bit of mercy.
“I can do whatever I want to you, little one,” he said, a dangerous note in his voice. “I hope you’ll remember what I said about submitting to me, Betsy.”
She swallowed hard. Perhaps he intended this as a display of his authority—so he might show her that he held all the power in their relationship. As if she didn’t already know.
If she tried her best to obey him, would he sometimes show her kindness? She couldn’t help this thought from flitting through her mind.
He paused and stared at her breasts, his fingers lightly tracing the sore areas. A pleased growl left him. “I like seeing my marks on you, Betsy.” His nostrils flared and a reserved yet gleeful look entered his dark eyes.
He likes hurting me.
He likes leaving marks upon my flesh.
This realization made her tummy flip, even as heated pulses hastened in her core.
But though she was nervous and felt occasional jolts of fear—mostly due to her inexperience with this sort of thing—she wasn’t truly afraid of Merokk.
He likes hurting me, just a little, but I’m safe with him.
She latched onto this thought, praying it was true.
He lifted his hand and delivered a dozen more slaps to her breasts, and she tried her best to hold still and accept the blows as the urge to please him consumed her… and confused her. She didn’t understand why she wished to please him. She ought to be screaming at him to stop, ought to be scolding him for treating her in such a highhanded manner on their wedding night.
But she couldn’t find the words.
Instead, she winced and whimpered through each blow, and the sting didn’t overpower the desire coursing through her center. Instead, it seemed to increase her need to feel Merokk inside her.
She was burning up, ready for him to stake his final claim.
Ready for him to assert his ownership over her.
She felt her wetness growing and knew he would glide easily inside her pussy—at least she hoped he would. She glanced down at his cock again, and her heart fluttered.
It would be a tight fit.
Merokk finally ceased slapping her breasts and she breathed a sigh of relief. But her relief was short-lived, because he moved to the side of the bed and lifted her legs high in the air, drawing them straight back. She felt exposed, her wet folds on display. Fear jolted through her and a quiver raced across her bottom cheeks.
A spanking. He’s going to spank me now.
Rising up on his knees, he secured her legs against her stomach with one arm.
His free hand then descended to her vulnerable bottom, a torrent of hard slaps landing on her cheeks and thighs.Smack smack smack!
