Pride (2 page)

Yes, I did, but I wasn’t used to the male lions talking to me about it. They usually just tossed me around, did as they pleased, and then ordered me to cook them something to eat.

“I do, Your Majesty.” I wanted to ask him to just get it over with, but for once, I held my tongue.

He sighed and leaned back. “Do you know how old I am?”

I shook my head and he said, “Answer out loud, Jessica.”

“I don’t know how old you are, Your Majesty.”

“I’m a little over eight hundred years old. I originally fought for Amakhosi to save the woman I loved. When I took on the mantle, I gained long life, but she didn’t.”

“Woman? Your Majesty? She was human?”

He nodded. “But that isn’t the point. The point is, I’ve been King of the Lions for a very long time, and for a while, I lost my humanity. A good friend helped me find my way back, and I try hard to balance my human side with the lion’s.”

“Is that why I’m sitting on the sofa, and not the floor?”

He smiled. “Glad you have a brain in that hard-headed skull of yours. The point is that we know what has to happen, but I’d rather not rape you. Lions in the wild don’t see it as rape, and there have been periods of time I didn’t, either. Now, I do. I’ll let the lion’s instincts take over if I must, the hierarchy can’t be fucked with, or bad things happen. However, this’ll go a lot easier if you submit.”

“So, if I submit, you won’t hurt me?”

He didn’t try to hide his apparent sadistic streak. “Oh, no, it’s going to hurt no matter what. The only question is how bad it’s gonna hurt.”

I hadn’t used a term of respect in my last sentence, so I started with one, now. “Your Highness, you know I’ll be fighting the lion’s instincts, too, but I’ll do my best to submit, My King.”

A curt nod. “Any neighbors who can hear you scream from here?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

“And your girlfriend won’t be home until the weekend?”

“She’ll be home Friday evening, Your Majesty.”

“Your room downstairs, with the stocks and cage. What do you call it?”

“The punishment room, Your Majesty.”

“It isn’t a playroom?”

“No, Sir.” He looked at me a few heartbeats, and I tried, “No, My King.”

“So, you aren’t into kink in your human relationships, you only use it for your role as pride leader?”

“Kink? Sure, we’re kinky, but I don’t whip her or put her in the cage unless I need to assert my dominance, which I never have to do, with my girlfriend. The punishment room is for the pride.” I shrugged. “My upstairs strap-ons are normal, not like the one in the punishment room.”

He nodded and stood. “Strip and go downstairs. Kneel beside the stocks. I need to step outside to my truck a moment, and then I’ll be down.”

Chapter Three

The concrete floor was cold. It was supposed to be, but it wasn’t helping my nerves.

I felt adrenaline dump into my veins with every step the Amakhosi took on his way down the steps, and I was a bundle of nerves by the time he came into view. I didn’t dare look above his expensive, clean, athletic shoes, though.

The worn jeans and faded tee had made me think he was another vagabond lion come to try to take over someone else’s pride, when he first stepped into my office. After a long day on the construction site, I’d intended to take care of paperwork long into the evening, but my plans were shot before I even made them. I just hadn’t known.

“We’re going to drop Your Majesty, and stick to either My King, or Your Highness. Should you decide you can say it and mean it, you have permission to call me Master, if you like. You understand the term is much more personal, and I’d rather you not say it unless you’re feeling it.”

“I understand, Your Highness.”

“I assume there are no health issues I should know about, since you’re a strong lioness who leads a pride, but I’ll ask, anyway.”

“No, Your Highness, I’m healthy.”
And shocked you asked
, but I didn’t say that part out loud. I looked at the floor and used every ounce of courage I could muster to tell him, “I don’t want to get pregnant, please, My King?”

“Hmm. I’m your King when you want something of me?”

There was no good response, so I looked at the floor and kept my mouth shut.

Werelion men can wear a condom with human women and stay safe, but when they have sex with a lioness, their cocks grow little sharp barbs shortly before they orgasm. Their last fifteen to thirty thrusts tear us up inside, but our physiology needs this in order for us to ovulate little werelion eggs. If we want to get pregnant with a werelion, we need to have sex dozens of times a day, until we’re pregnant. If he only had sex with me a few times, I wouldn’t be likely to get pregnant. However, in order to impress upon me how dominant he is, he’d likely want to fuck me raw, dozens of times a day.

He folded his arms, considering, and finally said, “Since you appear to be trying to cooperate, I won’t mindfuck you with this. The Amakhosi has talents other lions do not. I can control whether there’s sperm in my ejaculate, or not. I don’t want babies with you, Jessica, so I won’t impregnate you.”

He was rewarding me for my submission, showing me he wasn’t the cruel tyrant I’d heard of. I leaned forward, put my forehead on the ground, and said, “Thank you for telling me, My King.”

“I’m the strongest lion on the planet. Everything I do is a choice. I’m not ruled by my lion, or by my instincts. The barbs on my cock can come out at any time, not just before I release. Or, I can withhold them, even when I’m with a lioness.”

He squatted down beside me, touched my cheek, and urged it up. I let his hand direct me, until I was kneeling, looking him in the eyes.

“You’re strong, more powerful than most males, and I need to make sure we both know you’re
my
lioness. A simple fucking isn’t going to do it. You know I’m going to have to break you. As leader of your little pride, you understand what I have to do, don’t you?”

“Yes, My King, but I’m not accustomed to lions explaining themselves ahead of time.”

“I told you, I’m holding onto my humanity. I don’t always explain beforehand, but I know you’re in a position to understand.” He nodded towards my stocks. “Put your neck and wrists in.”

I tried to stand, tried to do as he said, but my lioness wanted me to fight. I fought her, and stayed still, forcing my eyes down so I wasn’t looking him in the face. “I don’t think I can, Your Highness. I can control her enough to keep from fighting you, but not enough to put myself in the stocks. Can you help me, please, My King?”

He released some of his power, so I could barely breathe again, and I stood and turned towards the stocks. Walking felt like wading through pudding, his power filled the room so, but it suppressed my lioness enough I could walk to the stocks and settle my neck and wrists into the slots.

Is there anything more humbling than being locked into equipment you made with your own two hands? I’d never intended to be the recipient here — they were built to hold my underlings, members of my pride who needed to be reminded of their place. Never me.

The Amakhosi locked the top piece down and I knew there was no way I’d get out. I’d built it to hold lions, not just lionesses. I wasn’t going anywhere.

A full-wall mirror was mounted in front of me, but I’d installed curtains in front of it, so I could choose whether my victim could see herself — and me behind her — or not. The curtain was closed now, thank goodness. I didn’t want to see myself like this.

Iron rings are securely chained to the floor, placed so the victim’s legs are held apart, for when I want to fuck them without being kicked.

He didn’t bother securing my ankles, and I had my feet together, trying to be as invulnerable as possible, which was a joke. He could do whatever he wanted to me, whether I was restrained or not. All he had to do was unleash his power and I’d spread my legs as far as he ordered.

He started with his belt. He didn’t double it over, but used it as a strap, laying a line of fire across both of my ass cheeks. I screamed and tried to run in place after the first burning strike, and he gave me a few seconds for the pain to fully register before swinging again.

After the first couple of dozen strikes, there was no time in between — he rained them down on my ass, thighs, and back, paying no mind to my screams and pleas.

I don’t know how long he beat me. Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes, if I had to guess, but when you’re in that kind of a panic, feeling more pain than you’ve ever felt in your life, time does screwy things.

When he finally stopped, he opened the curtains over the mirror, looped them over the side hooks so they stayed, and ordered, “Look at yourself, Jessica.”

I did as ordered, and didn’t recognize the red eyes and splotched face of the woman in the mirror.

His voice was once again soft, gentle.

Deadly.

“Ask me for ten more.”

I looked at him, our gazes met in the mirror, and I begged, “
Please
don’t make me, My King!”

“Are you going to disobey an order?”

Such a casual tone of voice, as if he were asking if I was going to stop at the store on my way home.

I shook my head and forced the words out through my tears. “Please, My King, may I have ten more?”

I could run for miles without being out of breath, and yet I couldn’t breathe fast enough, now, and my lungs burned while every cell of my body screamed for oxygen.

“Since you asked so nice, we’ll make it six instead of ten. You’ll thank me for every stroke, count it, and ask for the next.”

The first strike made my knees fold, and if I’d been human I’d have likely hurt my neck when I collapsed.

I managed to get my legs under me, and gasped, “Thank you for the first strike, Your Highness. May I please have the second?”

I remained standing for the next strikes, and after the fourth, he rubbed his hand over my ass, soothing it.

“I’ll give the final two at once. When I let you down afterwards, crawl to my feet and kiss them, and I’ll take care of you. If you need more from me, go to your knees and wait. I won’t be mad or upset. Whatever you decide, I’ll deal with.”

I knew he was asking me if I was broken,
truly
broken, and I realized I wasn’t. I also understood I didn’t need to be — I’d submit to him as long as necessary. He was my King, and I was his lioness.

I dropped to my knees when he released me, followed him the ten feet he walked across the room, and kissed the tops of both of his bare feet. I didn’t know when he’d taken his shoes and shirt off, but he now only wore the faded, worn jeans, molded to his body so I could easily see the outline of a very large cock.

He dropped the belt to the floor beside me, and I leaned sideways to kiss it, as well. I knew what I expected in his position, and I gave it to him.

I’d never wanted to be owned or dominated. I’d put up with it when I was younger and had no choice, but once I’d moved to the middle of nowhere, away from any lions, and then other lionesses had followed me here? I’d become my own person, never to kneel before another lion again.

I still didn’t want to be dominated, but I needed to kneel before the Amakhosi even more than I needed to breathe.

He bent down, lifted me in his arms, careful not to hurt me worse than I already hurt, cradled me to his chest, and climbed the steps.

This wasn’t the lion and lioness, this was the man and woman.

He carried me to my bed, settled me on it, and worked the button and zipper on his pants.

Lions don’t exactly do it doggy-style. Our legs and arms are folded under us, so we’re flatter against the floor, or — in this case — bed. He’d put me down on my side, and ran his hands down my arms, soothing me before he stood and finished undressing.

I pushed with my arms, situating my body with my ass to him, my legs and arms curled under me. My ass and thighs were hot and swollen from the belting, and my heated skin stretched to accommodate the position. The beating followed by his gentle touch had worked, though. I wanted him — my cunt was empty and needed to be filled.

Some of the women of my pride had protested, at first, when I’d used the C word. I’ve always figured
I’m
the pussy, so I should use a different word, and cunt worked for me.

The Amakhosi’s hand stroked my hip. The belt had wrapped around my body more than a few times, and I felt bruising under his fingers, but it only made me want him more.

“What do you want, Jessica?”

He wasn’t ordering me to request it. This wasn’t like him making me ask for the belt. He wanted my consent. He’d said he didn’t want to have to rape me.

I took another shuddering breath and told him the truth. “I need to be filled, My King. I need you to take me,
own
me. Please finish what you started, Master.”

“Arch your back for me, Jessica.” He stroked me again, soft fingers over bruises and welts. I wouldn’t heal until he let me
change
, but I couldn’t worry about that now.

I arched my back, pushing my empty cunt up, begging for his cock with my body, and I groaned as he settled the head just inside.

He was still standing beside the bed, which was the right height for me to fuck people like this, but he didn’t seem to be having a problem. All thoughts of logistics went out of my head, though, as he leaned over my body, kissed the back of my neck, and entered me.

He groaned and practically growled, “
Yes
, Jessica. You’re my lioness, my property, and now that I own you, I’ll own your pride.”

He slid in slow, while he talked, and I shuddered as he bit the back of my neck. It was as if my life were complete, his cock in my cunt and his teeth at the base of my skull, tugging the skin.

He slid out and back in, and I groaned as he filled me so completely, stretching me with just the right amount of pain. I reached my hand down to play with my clit, but he stood and slapped the side of my ass,
hard
.

“You’ll ask permission before pleasuring yourself while I use you, Jessica.”