Blue Light of Home Read Online Free PDF

plate or something over most of it; no wonder he’d needed to have spankings explained to him. She was faintly jealous.
    Should she leave? Clearly, he’d rolled over and hit the panel on the wall by accident…but if he woke up at his usual time and saw it was on and she wasn’t there, he’d only spank her again. Should she wake him up? She kind of got the feeling that was a spanking offense too. Try to creep over and turn the light off herself? That just had to be one.
    While she stood there in her agony of indecision, Vala snorted and then shifted in his sleep. He rolled onto his back, began to rub lazily at his throat, and then sat bolt upright in bed with one hand drawn up and hooked into claws. He looked at her there in the doorway, then looked at the panel by his bed. He started to lower his hand, then changed his mind and used it instead to wipe unnecessarily at his snout. Muttering something sleep-thick in his own language, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and beckoned to her.
    “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” she said, coming toward him. “You look exhausted.”
    He froze in the act of scratching his chest and gaped at her. Gaped. Like she’d just called him a garbage-eating monkey-banger or something. Then he shut his beak with a snap and sat up a lot straighter, hitting the light-panel with his fist.
    He looked a lot angrier in the light.
    “Sorry,” she said, wondering what on Earth she was apologizing for. “I’m just saying it’s obvious you didn’t mean to call me. It was an accident. We don’t have to do this if you’re too tired—”
    “On your knees, woman, and serve me!” he shouted.
    She flinched back and stared at him. He’d never shouted at her before. Apart from that first spanking, he’d never even raised his voice. Even the third time he’d had to walk her through the extremely basic controls for the shower, he’d always been very quiet, very calm, very patient. Now, as she watched, she could see brilliant green markings throbbing to life along the sides of his snout, throat, and shoulders—a visible sign of some very palpable anger.
    She knew what she was supposed to do, but could not make her feet take one step towards that furious alien. When he sprang up, she actually jumped back, then tried to bolt and run.
    Run where, for God’s sake? The entire deck wasn’t much bigger than her apartment back home. Unless she really meant to flush herself out the airlock, and she didn’t even know how to open that hatchway.
    She screamed when he caught her, babbling mindless incoherent things about Please and Don’t and Sorry. He ignored them, hauled her back into his room and against the side table (which she had come to think of as the “sex table”) and just started whaling on her.
    His hand was like iron, flattening her ass at each stroke and banging her into the table with unreal force. She’d forgotten how much this hurt, forgotten how strong he was, and most importantly, forgot that he expected her to stand still and take it.
    She went wild, kicking and pummeling back at him as she slapped her hands around in a protective cover, already howling at the shock of it. The pain would sink in later. For now, all that mattered was escape.
    And escape was out of the question. He tolerated only a few seconds of her struggles and then she was doubled up like a penknife, her cheek pressed flat against the tabletop, while he methodically caught up both her wrists and trapped them together at the small of her back. Then he lit into her again, each crack of his hand as loud as a firecracker in her ears, splitting the air, exploding in it, and drumming the most unbelievable hurt into her body until it seemed every nerve ending had fired up in sympathy and she couldn’t even blink her eyes without waking up new flares of Hell in her bottom.
    ‘ Stop !’ she told herself. ‘Stop struggling!’ But she couldn’t—Who had that kind of control?—she just