Amy Redwood - Alien Best Man

“Get back on the bed, same position as before.” Zyn gave me a push against my shoulder, not hard, but I fell against the edge of the bed because it was difficult to keep my balance with my arms bound.

I came up on my knees, my heart racing as I leaned myself onto the pillows again. I fully realized that I had stopped fighting Zyn’s dominance, but wondered what it meant for my relationship with Qay when a flat palm spanked the right cheek of my ass. My ability to analyze vanished when the pain from his slap wrapped around my senses.

“I think I’ll have that tight tail of yours now.” Zyn reached between my legs, finding my wetness, spreading it. His slick finger traced lightly over my anus, slowly pushing harder and harder until I relaxed enough to allow its entry, making me shiver in anticipation. “How do you feel about that, my heart? Do you want me to fuck your ass?”

“If…if it pleases you.” I thought of Qay watching me, watching me with Zyn. I moaned, rocking my hips, the need to be filled increasing with every move of Zyn’s finger.

“Yes,” he said, “you please me.” He ran his other hand up and down my back, stroking me, giving me chills. “There was a wound here, once.” He sounded oddly detached, as if he were only thinking out loud. Once more, he ran the tips of his fingers along my back, crisscrossing back and forth. “Many wounds. I didn’t know…” I swallowed, the gentle touch of his fingers throwing me for a loop. Looked as if he hadn’t unearthed all my thoughts and secrets that day. But I knew what he meant of course. I had paid good money to have the wounds healed and the resulting scars removed. I would have altered my memory too, but preferred to never forget the mistake I had made.

“Who did that?” Zyn asked, getting up and moving away from me, which was absolutely frustrating.

“A man I used to…date.” I kept my voice neutral while I fought to control my emotions. “He cut me.”

“Yes,” Zyn said quietly. “I can see that now.” I heard the snap of the leather crop as if he had flicked it against his palm, and then felt how he traced the crop down my back. “You didn’t like that,” he said. “You don’t like to be cut. You don’t like that kind of pain. Why did he do it if you didn’t like it?” He sounded so genuinely puzzled, I almost laughed.

“No, I didn’t like it one bit. He did it because I agreed to, agreed to…” I shut my mouth. The memory wasn’t as hurtful anymore, yet I didn’t like to think back to the evening where I had agreed to let this guy tie me up. It had excited me, I had longed for it. I had longed to submit to him. I should have stayed in a virtual room with him, but I had wanted the real deal. And paid for it in blood.

But it was long ago—what girl had never made an error in judgment when it came to trusting a man? My throat closed and my limbs started to shake the longer I thought about it. The guy had eventually stopped torturing me and I had moved cities and changed jobs. But here I was again, bound and helpless on the bed of a male a hundred times more frightening than the bastard who had used the knife on me.

I bit back a whimper when Zyn growled behind me. A sharp slap from the crop landed on my ass that made me scream out. Pain blurred my mind, blurred the images and the memory of the night where I had thought I would die. Another slap landed on my other buttock, softer this time, and he made a hushing sound as if I were an animal he was trying to soothe.

If he had said, “You can trust me,” I probably would have started to cry. Because that was what I had heard before a blade sliced my skin open. But Zyn didn’t say those words. Instead, he trailed the crop from my neck down my ass, tickling me. And when he knelt behind me, his hands wrapping around my middle, I felt only need cursing through my veins, not fear.

Zyn already knew what I wanted, what I craved. And I wasn’t sure anymore if that was reason to fear or to trust him.

His hands slipped between my legs, finding my cunt, and he plunged his fingers inside me. “I want you wet and ready and begging for me. Do you understand? Please me.”

I let out a strangled cry, aroused at his demanding touch, but it was his words that got to me most. I wanted to please him. My breath came hard as his cock slipped between my legs, rubbing over my clit. I rocked myself against the hard ridge as he pushed his knee between my legs, spreading me wider. He guided the thick head of his cock into me, just the tip, but the sudden invasion left me desperate for more.

“Do it,” I pressed through my teeth, my body shaking with suppressed need. “Fuck me.”

His low laugh sent shivers down my spine as he raked his fingernails across my back. It hurt, and fear clouded my senses. I barely sensed him getting up, but what I felt when he returned had me holding my breath. Cold metal pressed against my back, the tip of a knife.

I bowed away from the bed, instinctively. The rope holding my wrists dug into my skin as I tried to break free.

Grabbing me by the neck as if I were a cat, he pressed me into the mattress. It was as if all my senses increased tenfold as fear slammed into my body. He ran the metal tip up and down my back, and it was so terribly familiar, I knew that any moment now he would use the knife to slice my skin open.

It took me another second or two to get what he was doing. He cut the rope holding my wrists. When my hands came free, he reminded me with a tug at the leash that I was still wearing his choker.

“On the floor,” he said, and I obeyed without thinking. Sliding from the bed, coming up on hands and knees on the floor. He took off the blindfold.

I lifted my head, looked at him towering over me, the crop in his hand. He flicked it against his leg in steady rhythm.

Then I saw Qay, his clothes stripped off, showing how aroused he was. He looked at me with the same love, the same tenderness in his gaze. I swallowed, reached out to him, yet he remained a couple of feet away, maintaining his distance.

“Bow your head to the ground.”

I did, rested my forehead against the smooth, cold floor, even though it meant losing sight of Qay. A light slap landed against my flank.

“Raise your ass.”

I wanted to spread my legs but didn’t in fear he would notice how desperately I wanted his touch, wanted the release of tension, fear and sexual arousal.

He stepped behind me, lowered himself to one knee, pushed my legs farther apart.

He thrust the length of his cock into my wet heat in one hard stroke. Making sure he filled me completely, he pulled me hard against his groin. Everything inside me coiled tight as he began to fuck me in raw and hard strokes. I heard myself say his name, even if I hadn’t meant to.

He reached forward and wrapped his arms around me, covering my breasts in his hands. He rolled my nipples in his fingers while he pumped his cock into my cunt. And with each stroke he twisted my breasts a little harder, and the pain twisted my lust into an unbearable need for release.

He fucked me almost brutally, as I wanted him to. When he pinched my nipple again, I groaned out, my internal muscles clenching around him while he worked his cock deep into me.

Helplessly, I surrendered to his thrusts and pinches and the twisted way he played with my lust. The way he played with my fear. Closing my eyes, I reveled in the feeling of his thick cock pounding into me. His hand closed around my neck, grasping the collar, reminding me that he had put it around my neck, and that I had let him. That I was his.

I was close, so close, but he pulled out of me, rose to his feet while I rested my cheek against the cool floor, cursing him, thanking him for his cruelty of not giving me satisfaction.

Slowly, my heartbeat calmed, my breathing too. I glanced up at him. His skin glowed, his cock rested hard against his stomach, glistened from my juices.