Taming the Raven's Son (Galactic Lust) by Kathleen Lash

released her.
    She swallowed. “I don’t have any frame of reference here.
I’ve never been touched like that. You’re gentle and rough at the same time.
You make me burst into flames only to extinguish them.” Fat tears gathered in
her eyes.
    His heart ached. He stood and slipped his pants down before
kicking out of them. He sat down and spread his legs before pushing the shirt
from her shoulders, attempting to wrap her in his arms. She placed her hands on
his chest and stared at his fully erect cock.
    “You see, sweet woman, you’re not the only one suffering.
And believe me, I want you.”
    She squirmed until she stroked his erection with a
feather-light touch. He stifled a groan and the urge to force her delicate hand
around his width.
    “Then why won’t you?”
    He’d never been questioned like this before. The previous
women who’d shared his bed hadn’t commented on his tactics or methods. They’d
obeyed, acquiesced, endured and then reaped the rewards of their trust,
sometimes earning punishment in the process. Deedra, in particular, made sure
to receive punishment regularly. She’d not only wanted it, she’d needed it.
    “I require your trust. I don’t have it yet. Not completely.
I haven’t earned it. I must before we go further.”
    “Why? Is it a rule or something?”
    “Shh, lower your voice. You shouldn’t question me.”
    She bit her bottom lip.
    He pulled her close and hugged her. Against her ear, he
whispered, “A newly acquired meek is examined. Everywhere. Only then can her
Master enjoy her body. Only when he’s fully aware of each facet. It’s the way
of a man trained in the Bendolian art of being a Master. It’s my way.”
    “I’m sorry. I just can’t.” She stroked his cock, this time
without as much hesitancy.
    “We’ll work on it.”
    “By you teasing me some more?” Her disgruntled tone of voice
couldn’t be overlooked.
    He slapped her ass and she jumped. Why would she speak to
him like that? She’d been warned. The last thing he wanted to do was discipline
her. She’d left him no choice with the bastard watching. He tightened his
embrace when she attempted to pull away. “Relax in my arms. Don’t struggle.”
    “I’m not that good an actress. I hurt from the
teasing and now I hurt from your slap. I’ve reached my limit. Let me go.”
    “Lower your voice or I’ll punish you.”
    She struggled harder. “The hell you will!”
    Without preamble or warning he wrestled her down, placing
her over his thighs. It took several long moments before she stilled.
    “As before, Sage, I’ll give you ample warning and count
before each strike. You’ve earned ten.”
    “Make it twenty, bastard!”
    The anger she expressed could well be unanswered desire. He
couldn’t explain the situation to her. If he’d been alone with her, the
scenario would’ve played out differently. “Very well. Twenty.”
    “No!”
    “One.” He cupped his hand to make the sound echo through the
room. He needed to convince anyone watching he could and would discipline her.
He wanted to accomplish that without causing bruises.
    She stilled. Finally, common sense returned to her but it
was too late. She exhaled and grabbed his calf. Weakly, she uttered, “I’m
sorry.”
    She must learn not to let anger guide her. She’d find
herself in a much worse predicament very quickly. “Two.”
    He made the next slap land harder, sting more.
    “I’m sorry,” she said.
    “I know you are. Three.”
    “Please!” she said.
    Her contrite plea was laced with fear. Damn her! Too little,
too late. Hopefully she’d learn something.
    “Four.” Slap!
    She sobbed. It hadn’t come from the meager spanking. Hurt
and confusion, rebellion and sadness, anger and frustration bled from her with
the mournful sob.
    He continued to count until the last slap landed on her warm
and blushed cheeks. He turned her, brought her to his chest and embraced her.
She clung to him rather than shove him away. Disgust chilled