Priestesses of the Goddess Pt. 13

She screamed as her release suddenly welled up inside of her. Her body arched so far off the body, so violently that even his strength was tested. But he was not going to be an idle bystander to his mate's pleasure. His tongue found the tiny bundle of flesh that he had been avoiding. It encircled it, tugging firmly, augmenting her response. Drawing it out.

His fingers too plunged deep into her fountain. He groaned at how tightly her muscles squeezed them, imagined how it would feel on other areas of his anatomy. He felt her wetness coating his fingers as he plunged them deeper inside of her. His teeth scored the button, captured it and held it firmly as he pressed the spot deep inside of her that he knew would send her deeper into bliss.

And his efforts were rewarded as what had been a gentle flow of her nectar became a flood. It gushed around his fingers, coating them and drawing them deeper still. He released the bit of flesh and buried his face deeper in her fountain, lapping and drinking each precious drop of her nectar. It sweetness coated his tongue, his lips, was so copious that he was certain his whole face glistened with her blessing. Her release went on and on for several long minutes. He fingers and tongue working to draw forth every ounce of her powers. To give her more energy than she had ever felt.

At last she collapsed back upon the bed. Her whole body was lax. He closed his eyes and drew in her power, felt it surge through him from his toes until it burst forth out of the top of his head like a geyser of sexual energy. Then just as swiftly its waters dropped back into a gentle and quiet pool.

He pressed a final kiss upon her mound and crawled back up next to her. He drew her into his arms and held her as he had the night before. He pressed soft kissed into her hair. She smelled of sex and his soap. It was an intoxicatingly right combination. And he enjoyed it while he could. Then she turned in his arms. He placed one final soft kiss upon the top of her red curls and prepared himself for battle.

Her eyes were wide as she stared up at him, "What about you?"

He chuckled, "What about me, my sweet salvation?"

He loved the way that her cheeks flamed and her eyes dropped to stare at his chest as she fumbled over her words. He doubted that it was many times the great High Priestess of the rock had found herself embarrassed. "I mean...aren't you going to....you know..."

He shook his head as he dipped it. His lips captured her. Though he was careful to bank the passion in this kiss, hold back the need that he knew she expected, he was certain that she could taste herself upon him. He prolonged the kiss for as long as he dared before he drew back reluctantly, "If you mean, am I going to fuck you? Take what I need and use your body for my pleasure? Then the answer is no, my love."

His fingers under her chin forced her to look up at him, "When you are ready, when you willing kneel before me and offer me the sweet gift of your body and submission, then and only then will take what is mine."

He felt the sting of her hand connecting with his cheek. Although he had expected her to be angry at his response, this was a disrespect that he could and would not tolerate. He sat up, gathered her in his arms and spread her across his knees. His hand came down upon her soft bottom. "Your second lesson of the day in submission is to show respect to your master."

Each word, each syllable was punctuated with a solid blow to her backside. Twenty-five in all, he had silently counted each one. While he hardly considered that a fit punishment for that level of disrespect, he recognized this was probably her first real punishment. So he chose restraint in this as well.

He turned her in his arms. Noted the shocked expression on her face and the tears that his strong mate refused to shed, yet anyway. He drew her back into his arms, rocked her softly as he kissed the top of her head once more.

"I know that you have much to learn, my salvation. But know this, I will not tolerate disrespect. Ever. That was only twenty-five. Do that again and it will be four times that, do you understand me?"

"Bastard, whore son," she spat.

He turned her in his arms. Without a word, he delivered twenty-five more in rapid succession. Alternating cheeks so that neither bore the full brunt of the punishment, but both were flaming a bright pink in the end. She squirmed and fought, but he caught the distinct smell of her need rising once more. Knew that this punishment was doing more to her body and mind than she perhaps understood.

He turned her back in his arms. This time her body was once more limp, her legs fell open. He recognized it for what it was, her unspoken submission. His fingers found her fountain, plunged deeply within her as they had earlier. And as before her ripe body arched against every thrust of his fingers, took every scintilla of pleasure that he offered and amplified it back again.

By the time she collapsed silent in his arms, his body was aching and throbbing. He cursed himself, his own dark need that rode him, urged him to push through this. To claim what was his. To take what she was not yet ready to offer. He closed his eyes as he drew her once more into his arms, placed another soft kiss upon her head. Fought back his own darkness.

He would not. He could not screw up the one chance that the dark god of Fate had entrusted him. He would find the strength somehow to wait. To earn the most precious gift of all...his mate's true submission.