His Captive Mortal by Renee Rose Page B

“Ah, here we are again, little fairy.”
    “Get off of me,” she snapped, glaring at him. He sensed her heart pounding beneath his still one, her pulse moving frantically at her throat. Fear was like an aphrodisiac to vampires, the smell of it stirring his desire even more.
    He caught the little fists still trying to pummel him and pinioned her wrists above her head. “You’re in for some serious punishment now, Sasha. You must never use magic against me,” he informed her firmly.
    This time he saw it coming, but still could not dodge. The ball of light appeared out of nowhere and flew directly into his mouth.
    He choked and recoiled in pain, the hot light burning the inside of his throat. He scrambled up to his knees and coughed until the ball came out. Dragging in a ragged breath, he coughed again and blood splattered the floor from his seared throat.
    He drew another breath to keep from turning animalistic this time.
    Sasha stared at the blood on the floor with a look of horror, covering her mouth with her hand. “I-I…”
    He turned to her, grasping her shirt at the collar and renting it in half. She gave a shriek and stared at him, her eyes wide, a mixture of fear and arousal in her scent.
    “Wh-what are you doing?” she asked, her words tumbling out one on top of the other.
    He sliced her bra with a fang and hauled her to her feet.
    She covered her breasts with one forearm, her face flushed, her chest heaving. “What are you doing?” she repeated, her voice no more than a whisper now.
    He unbuttoned her shorts. “Punishing you,” he said, his voice raspy from the damage in his throat. He expected her to fight when he yanked off her shorts and panties, but she stood still, looking shocked.
    “I really hurt you, didn’t I?” she whispered.
    He didn’t answer, but when he took off his belt, she began to back quickly away, throwing up her bubble of protection, even as she babbled, “Okay, just calm down.”
    “It’s for your wrists,” he explained. “Remove your bubble and hold them out for me.”
    She stood still, staring at him with her wide eyes. Her gaze traveled to his cheekbone, where the first ball of light had struck. He probably had an angry mark by now, perhaps even blisters.
    The bubble flickered and dissolved.
    “Thank you. Now hold out your wrists.”
    She looked at him uncertainly.
    He waited for her surrender, lifting only an eyebrow to convince her.
    She drew a breath and held out her hands, dropping her eyes submissively.
    His cock twitched.
    He tugged her to the doorway of her bedroom where he tossed the end of his belt over the top of the door, pulling on it until she lifted up on her toes, then shutting the door to trap the belt so she could not pull her wrists down.
    “You are on clothing restriction until you can show a little respect,” he informed her.
    She twisted around, hanging her weight on the belt in an attempt to pull it free.
    “Take it easy there or you’ll hurt yourself,” he said. He found the box with the leather flogger and pulled it out.
    She eyed it nervously, twisting her backside away from him as he advanced.
    He’d tried it out on himself the night before and had discovered, as he suspected, it delivered a surface sting without imparting much damage.
    “Turn around,” he commanded.
    Her jaw tightened and she didn’t move.
    He flogged her breasts in a rapid figure-eight swing, the leather tassels punishing first one peak, then the other.
    She squealed, jerking in surprise and turning her head to the side.
    “Turn around,” he repeated.
    This time she spun around, dancing on her tiptoes.
    He went to work on her lovely ass, using the same motion to catch first one side, then the other. He loved the sound of the suede striking her flesh, the way her twin moons bounced in response to each blow. He whipped until her ass took on a rosy glow, then he moved down and whipped the backs of her thighs. When he swung it between her legs, she shrieked, crossing