Page 27 of My Big Alien Bodyguard

I don’t think his pants will be on very long. Mine are already being peeled from my hips, drawn down over my tingling rear with a very deliberate slowness. Zayne knows how to handle me. He knows when to be hard, and he knows when to be soft. He knows how to draw things out and force me to experience every hot, humiliating part of them.

He settles the waistband of my pants beneath my cheeks, an inch or so down my thighs, ensuring that the most sensitive parts of my body are bared to his dragon palm.

“I will not tolerate recklessness,” he growls, landing a hard slap to the most delicate skin he can find in this position, the place where my thighs meet my rear. The impact of his palm makes me yelp as the sharper sensation flashes through my flesh. I knew the punishment part of these proceedings was coming, I just didn’t think it would come so fast.

“I love you,” he says, slapping me as hard as I have ever been spanked. It is the kind of slap that can only be delivered by the hand of a mate who loves me. My yelps very quickly become yowls.

“Zayne! Zayne!” I shout his name. “That’s too hard!”

“It’s not too hard,” he says. “You’re barely red. You’re just not used to being punished. That’s going to change. I don’t think you can behave yourself without a regular reminder of the consequences of your actions. I’ve tried to let you have your head, but at almost every turn you have made a decision so damaging it has killed someone, or nearly done so.”

I thought the spanking was harsh enough, but his words bite inexorably deep. He’s calling me a fucking idiot without calling me a fucking idiot, which he doesn’t have to do because I know I’m a fucking idiot. That’s the worst thing about being the sort of person who acts on impulse and gets carried away by passion. It’s not that I don’t know I’m being stupid, it’s that in the moment, the stupid thing feels like the right thing.

I experience all these thoughts as Zayne turns my ass from my ass to a super hot, super sore pain vending engine attached to my body. He is whipping my rear like I owe him money. Or like he owns my ass. Or like…. I am out of similes. I am too busy thrashing around beneath his hands, hoping for mercy and knowing I have done absolutely nothing to deserve it.

“I’m sorry!” I finally sob when it becomes apparent that Zayne is punishing me quite seriously. He has made himself my judge and my jury. He might be the last person left who cares about me this way. I am adored and obsessed over across thousands of planets, but Zayne is the only one who loves me enough to try to have me change my ways. “I am so sorry!”

“I’m sorry too,” he says, pausing for a moment. “I am sorry I have to do this to you. I am sorry your behavior has been so dangerous and reckless, and continues to be so. I would have forgiven you the stage chaos if you had not immediately thrown an appliance out a window. But I think you wanted this. I think you have craved someone to rein you in.”

As he saysrein you in, he spanks me hard enough to make me squeal. Heat rushes through my flesh and finds a home in the most shameful parts of me, in the pulsing little bud between my thighs that demands sensation, and in the quickening of my pulse.

This is so damn wrong, and the wronger it gets, the more I feel hot waves of intense pleasure. It hurts. Every swat hurts. But it does more than hurt too. It excites me and it makes every nerve in my body perform a new function.

Zayne

I wanted to teach her a lesson. I wanted this to be pure discipline, but there is some quirk or kink inside this human of mine that revels in this attention. I consider stopping, and changing mode of punishment, but I am beginning to scent her arousal, and that arousal is turning me on too.

I can mate with her and make it discipline, I tell myself. Sex can be for more than pleasure. It can be for punishment too. So I keep spanking her, and I watch her cheeks blush with the subsequent slaps. It is satisfying to hear her wail and apologize, though I am not certain she truly means the apologies she is making. She might simply be desperate to have me stop.

“Do you know what it does to me to watch you hurl yourself into danger time and time again? Do you know how I worry for you? How I watch over you? How you occupy my thoughts time and time again?”

“Yes! No! I’m sorry!”

She’s not answering me, she’s just trying all the answers, hoping that one of them will earn her some mercy. But mercy is not what she needs. Pain is what she needs. Consequences. She needs to know that I will actually punish her to a point she will not enjoy. My human mate craves control. The kind of control that can only be given by someone willing to punish her when she deserves to be punished.

Lyric

He is punishing me, but I am going to come. I’ve tried very hard to be sorry and to take his discipline well, but it’s all getting twisted up inside me. The pain is pleasure, the punishment is care, and the care is more than I feel I deserve. I don’t know why Zayne cares about me, or why he loves me. I know I am lucky to be loved. I hope he will not tire of me.

I orgasm while squealing apologies and being spanked hard, the slaps falling hard and firm on my ass, driving me through climax with an even more intense flurry.

“You dare come when you are being punished?” Zayne lectures me, knowing precisely what I am doing. I cannot hide my writhing motions, the stiffening of my muscles and then the half-jerking motion of my hips as I come so fucking hard.

Zayne rips my pants down entirely, freeing my legs so they can be spread — and spread them he does, right around his waist. His scaled hands cup my aching ass as he lifts me up, looks me dead in the eye, and impales me on his cock with one firm, dominant, possessive stroke.

I am owned. It does not need to be said, because I feel it in the submissive stretching of my inner walls. I grasp for him to steady myself and to connect with him. I am trying to hold onto him, hold onto anything resembling sanity. I feel like I am losing my mind with pleasure.

“You are a bad, impulsive, rebellious little brat,” he lectures me as he fucks me. His chastisement is as erotic as hell. Every accusation he makes is true enough, and I hear the affection in his voice as well as the dominant desire to break me of them. He surges over me, inside me. He stretches me and he fills me.My clit grinds up against his punishing pubic bone and I start to come again, hard.

“I’m so fucking sorry, you’re so fucking hot,” I gasp. “I can’t help myself. I can’t stop what… I… fuckk…”

He rides me through the orgasm hard, absolving me of all my temperamental sins with the pounding of his cock. I don’t know if I am being punished or pleasured, or both.

“Don’t be sorry,” Zayne growls as he slams into me, his cock buried deep inside me as his alien seed spills inside me, filling me up all the way to the very brim with hot blue cum.“Be mine.”

Be his. I can do that. I can be his. Forever.

“It’s going to be okay,” he tells me in the aftermath of our lovemaking. “I’m going to make this okay for you, and for me.”

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