Page 35 of Auctioned to the Alpha

She made a tiny sound of defeat as she folded her body over his lap, his legs as hard as tree trunks. She sighed into the blankets as his hand closed over her hip. The slacks she wore offered her zero protection, of course, little more than a second skin, and she knew that if he chose to, he could punish her quite effectively—and thoroughly—through that fabric.

But she wasn’t going to be that lucky.

“Something you should know. Anytime you’re spanked, it will be on the bare. No exceptions.” His palm ran a long, languid circle over her right buttock, then moved over to its twin following the same lazy, possessive course over her ass, giving it a soft squeeze that had her nearly gasping. “Not even for the first time.”

For reasons she couldn’t understand, she kept quiet, perhaps as a way to show she wasn’t voluntarily cooperating with… whatever it was that was happening between them.

Or maybe it was something else entirely? An acknowledgment that she hadnoidea what she was doing, and that there was nothing she could have done that would have adequately prepared her for the events that were occurring, something made all the worse by the raging, unceasing desire seething at her core, throbbing almost painfully between her thighs. It was as if she were a passenger on an amusement park ride or a funhouse spectacle she couldn’t hope to negotiate her way through on her own, that surreal sense of no longer being at all in control of her fate stronger than ever at that moment.

She was just as much at the mercy of her body as she was Dmitri.

Expecting his fingers to ease under the waistband of her slacks, to perhaps even undo the button at her fly, she found she was very badly mistaken. Though his big handsdidindeed slip inside the rear of her slacks, it was what he did next that stunned her. Those fingers tightened down incredibly hard, the threads of the fabric snapping for a moment. Then she yelped as he violently ripped downward, the sound of rending fabric so loud it almost echoed in the room.

Dmitri tore the slacks all the way down her bottom until they’d revealed most of her thighs, the frayed polyester and cotton tickling her just behind the knees. He didn’t stop until he seemed satisfied with her exposure.

She cringed inside at the knowledge that the panties she wore were still the same drab pair she’d had on the day she’d been handed over to the wolves. It shouldn’t have mattered, of course—shewasa captive after all—but it did, nonetheless.

“You don’t have to do this…” She didn’t know why she kept repeating it, the words utterly futile against both his will and her desire. She said them more as a reflex, rather than any sort of profound feeling on her part.

Thiswasgoing to happen, and there was nothing she could do butletit happen.

What was shocking though, what had her breath catch in her lungs, was the sheer brawn that it must have taken to do what he’d just done. To rip her slacks asunder as if they were made of paper would have required tremendous strength, a power in his hands far beyond even the strongest man.

You said it yourself, Stacy. This is no man.

“There are any number of things I don’t have to do. But not one of those things is going to be determined by you, omega.” His palm closed over her right buttock, squeezing hard enough to make her wince with the pain. “In time, you’ll understand that.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

It was another stupid question, but she really did want to know. Did he do it to reinforce her position, to somehow dehumanize her?

If so, it’s working.

“Call you what? An omega?” His palm coursed another maddeningly unhurried trek across her now bare bottom, a gentleness, almost reverence, to his touch that was nearly as shocking as the ferocity with which he’d torn her clothes from her body.

“Yes,” she said, shuddering with something not at all akin to disgust as his blunt fingertips eased deeper along the cleft of her ass.

“Why should I call you anything other than what you are?”

She tried to twist around to look at him, but his huge hand forced her head back down against the mattress, her right cheek pressed to the cool fabric of the comforter even as her face burned hot.

“Stay right where you are. You face forward during a spanking.Thatrule you need to know right up front.”

“I’m a human being.” She said the words in little more than a frustrated whisper, helpless against his strength—and her body’s desire to see what he’d do to her next.

Dmitri grew very still then, though he still clasped her ass with a grip that was more and more… proprietary. He was unhurried, almost casual about how he handled her body, as if it was innately his right. Just.Proper.

“That is one thing youmustaccept, and accept it right now, agent.” He sighed, and she thought she detected a note of melancholy in it. “You are not a human. You’re anomega. You always have been, and you always will be. Call yourself whatever you like, but the truth, is the truth. Fate is fate. And yours is tied to me now, whether you like it or not.”

Her mouth dropped open at the implications of what he’d told her, at what the truth he referred to might really be. But she had no time to contemplate it further. His heavy—and very hard—hand came down firmly upon her bottom, the loud smack startling her even more than the sting.

“Hey! What are you…?Ahh!”

There was no preamble, as she’d always imagined it in her most fevered, masturbatory reveries, no sweet, playful words of a lover whispered in her ear, full of promises and threats and the knowledge that everything that was to be done to her was for her benefit, to arouse her, to inflame her lust, to bring the two of them closer together. In her fantasies, being spanked wasn’t a trial or a torment, even if it did hurt. No, instead it was an intimacy whose power could only be realized bent over the lap of the man who owned—and cherished—her, body and soul.

Dmitri was no such man, and though it angered her, thatstilldidn’t change the fact that her arousal fired ever fiercer, her pussy hot and slick, clit swollen and aching, as her first spanking began in earnest.

Again and again, his palm slapped down upon her bottom, her flesh stinging, burning, her groans and completely ineffectual struggling interspersed throughout. That thought mortified her too as she imagined what he must be seeing as he watched her flesh jiggle and wobble.

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