“Only one more room to see,” he told her.

“Gee, I wonder which one.”

He changed his mind. “It can wait.”

In seconds, she was on her back on the square foot stool with him thrust in to the hilt. Only a few moments and he pulled her off to straddle his waist. Feet on the floor, in her heels, hands on his shoulders, she had leverage to ride him well.

“Work for me, Pussycat,” he urged. “Show me how hard I can be inside you.”

Her channel being deeper made it impossible for the average K’Tran male to fill her and strike the core to cause her to ovulate. He was not the average K’Tran male, however. His shaft was longer, thicker. In her position, her channel was at its shortest when he was fully inside her. She jammed herself down, seeking on instinct to feel his solid strike against her cervical plate. Desperate sounds of a Femina in her prime, and his primal self heard. She sat harder on him, gasping when she felt him hit that spot that burned the most. She went weak for those few seconds, and he decided her dress was too much in the way.

“Where does this untie?” he asked of the lacing.

She laughed. “I’m not telling.”

He searched the front for the string ends, could not find where they’d been tucked in behind her neck. Without a word, he reached into his pocket for the balisong given him by the Dragon his first day as a raw recruit. His first Earth weapon. Open in a clacking flash, he sliced the strings up the front.

A lift as he got up and she landed hard on the footstool. He cut the strings up the back as well and turned her over to slice the material from her waist to her knees.

“Never wear this dress again!” he commanded, dropping the knife to rip the skirt apart to the hem.

Adelaide laughed. “I think you took care of that, lover,” she said, sitting up to pull the sleeves off and let the shredded dress fall to the floor.

He captured her left hand to kiss her palm, and stood with her.

“My ringlet. My teeth marks. A great pair of shoes. Let’s go out to dinner!”

She laughed again as he took her to the big sofa. On her belly with his soft word and he raised her bottom up with a guiding hand. Cock greased with lubricant kept under the cushion, he sank his thumb into her sheath first, to find the right spot. When her head drooped and he heard that certain low moan, he slowly drove into her welcoming anus. A new, deeper groan emanated from her.

“How’s that, Pussycat?”

“Mmmmm,” she hummed.



He took her straight to a climax more intense than when he’d popped her clit on the station. On wide knees, she lowered her pelvis and shuddered violently. Breath held as he gut clenched, she let go a flood no Voranian could ever produce. He drove into her in forceful jolts, the clench of her muscles squeezing his climax from him whether he was ready for it or not. Stripped empty, he slipped out to lay behind her and rest as she flopped onto her side. Knowing her legs weren’t going to support her for some time, he pulled down the light blanket from the top ledge of the sofa and opened it to cover them both.

Excerpt from Ties That Bind


About the Author

TylerRose. is known as Dame Tyler in the NYC public SM/Fetish scene. She is an award-winning author who has written two “lifestyle”, four cartoon, and twentysomething fiction books.

Twitter — or @DameTyler
FB Fan Page —

FB Regular page —

Read her books on her Amazon page —

You can also find more of her OP/ED work in Fetlife:

She enjoys crocheting and baking, and will no doubt die with a thesaurus open on her thigh.


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