Chapter 5 #2
When we arrived at Andothair’s chambers, he wished me luck. “This is where I leave you. Do yourself a favor and try not to give Bayaden too much trouble tonight, eh?"
“That what you do? Try not to give your master too much trouble?”
He laughed. “Oh, Tristan. I’m not a brat like you; it’s much easier for me to behave.”
That was the time I began to wonder if I had “brat” stamped on my forehead. “Am I that obvious?”
“To me you are.” He winked and walked off.
I walked into the room without knocking.
Sometimes I hate Andothair because he’s so pretty.
He’s got the bone structure of a fair-skinned Elf, which tends to be delicate and posh, with the beautiful dark skin of an Aldrien Elf.
He’s not as dark as Baya who spends more time in the sun.
Ando’s a sandy brown copper to Baya’s intense red copper.
Even Ando’s brow arches in a pretty way giving him elegance he doesn’t deserve.
His dark hair shines with strands of white twisted through it and always seems to fall over his shoulders in a perfect arrangement.
I was wrong. When I first laid eyes on Ando in the light, I thought he was young because he looks young—younger than most Elves his age. He’s still young for his station as Crown Prince but he’s much older than Corrik.
He maneuvers everyday sort of movements with the same grace Deglan does nocking her arrows or Baya on the field—Baya’s a brute during all other motion. Arrogance bleeds of Andothair like a gushing artery and it’s just as life-sucking to endure.
But sometimes I see what attracted Corrik. He has grand ideas. He’s powerful. Intelligent. And did I mention pretty? I want to stab his pretty dark eyes out.
“Andothair.”
“Warlord. Please sit.”
I did, but only because I was tired. The nap had done little to revive me from the never-ending nonsense.
Andothair has a large room like Bayaden has.
There is a desk, near the marble wall by a large window, with a ledge fat enough to sit on and the same sandstone floors as the rest of the palace.
He likes to conduct private business in his chambers, though I don’t know why.
If I were him, I wouldn’t want anyone near my personal space.
“Let’s get straight to the point, shall we? I’m not going to give you what you want unless you ask for it, but I will give you what you need.”
“What is it that I need Andothair?”
“You really don’t know, do you?”
I looked for something, a sword, a dagger anything. Father always taught me to be aware of my surroundings: anything and everything could be used as a weapon; plan an escape route if possible. Fight, if not.
But the strange implement on his dining table was all that was available, and I was pretty sure it was meant for me.
That’s when I understood. He thought I was there to be punished.
For what?
He sighed long and suffering like he was dealing with a complete idiot. “Tell me, Warlord, what do you know of your nature?”
It wasn’t the conversation I wanted to have with Andothair, but I sensed building energy in the air I knew not to deny. “Corrik. He told me I’m submissive like my papa.”
“And what do you think you are?”
“I think I’m something else. Diekin called it brat.” I enjoyed what Corrik and I did, the erotic lessons he tried to teach me, but I wasn’t sure I could be that well-behaved all the time. Papa was always so much more well-behaved than I was. I needed to let loose.
Andothair picked up the implement and twirled it between the palm of his right hand and the fingers of his left. “You are a brat, Tristan. There’s no doubt of that, one whose guilt I can feel from the moon.”
Was I that obvious? Why was Papa too ashamed to talk with me about it? I glared at Andothair.
“You sought me out so I would punish you Tristan. Admit it or be gone. I don’t have time for you to waste.”
I wanted to storm out just to show him I wasn’t who he thought I was, but even though I didn’t understand it at the time, I instinctively knew it had been too long.
It’s not my way to ask though and my inability to behave for long becomes clear to me; it’s not a character flaw it’s how I’m wired—how I “ask” to be spanked. “Andothair, please.”
“Why are you so stubborn? Were you like this with Corrik? No. He would never allow that,” he said the last part half to himself.
I didn’t know then his relation to Corrik at the time, but his musings make sense now.
Our stupid love triangle, which I was thrust into because Andothair couldn’t let go.
But unfortunately, Corrik was the crux of my issue. Talk of Corrik reminded me of what I did, and the heaviness cloaked me. For whatever reason, Andothair felt sorry for me. “Undress Warlord and allow me to take care of you. You’ll feel better.”
I began to undress. “Why do I have to ask you? Why can’t you just …”
“Spank you?”
“Yeah.”
“Because that wasn’t in the deal. This is personal, some might say more personal than sex and Tristan, my brother won’t like it for long. One day, you’ll have to go to him for this.”
“Fine.”
Undressing doesn’t take long when your only article of clothing is a pair of pants.
I could have removed the collar, but I didn’t dare.
If Bayaden were to catch me without it, especially then, he might have taken it away and without it, my choices would have been remaining in his chambers, or risk being thrown in the dungeon, both of which I wanted to avoid. “Where do you want me?”
“I don’t think so. You’re not in charge, I am. You’ll address me as sir while we’re in these roles. Understand?”
I am military. Calling anyone “sir” was never a problem for me. “Yes, sir.”
Andothair is small for an Elf, but he still towers over me, a paltry human, and when I approached his thick thighs, I felt his size.
Though he’s nothing like Bayaden, not even close, Andothair is imposing in his own way; it’s in the eyes.
He’s more the calculated sort. I’ve always kept all my eyes on Andothair.
“It’s better you go over my knee for this,” he said.
My cheeks heated, but yeah, I knew he was right.
I climbed over his lap, my exposed cock pressed into the smooth material covering his thighs (Ando wears real clothes unlike some Warlords I know), but believe me it was not hard, not for this.
A pit formed in my stomach; I thought of Corrik, I thought of my homeland.
I selfishly took something I wanted, and I’d barely been there a week.
“This is not punishment,” he began. “You haven’t broken any rules, not with me at least and you’ve managed to stay out of trouble.”
Bayaden might have begged to differ.
“What I’m about to give you is known as a ‘thinking spanking,’ or a ‘releasing spanking.’ This is to help you let go.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What’s eating you alive, Tristan?” He turns a tall, Elven ear to me.
“Your brother fucked me, and I liked it,” I said to the floor, trying to maintain balance.
“My brother is handsome, and I wouldn’t know, but rumor has it that he’s good in bed.”
“Ando, you know that’s not why I’m struggling.”
He whacked my arse. “Sir.”
“Sorry, sir.”
“I know what you mean. But Corrik is gone. It makes no difference if you fuck my brother or not.”
“So, you say. That’s still up for debate. But let’s say you are telling the truth and he is gone. Why has my heart moved on so quickly?”
He rubbed a hand over my bare arse. “That’s your problem right there.
You’re thinking in Markaytian. Elves understand that you can’t help who you’re attracted to, which is why we are a polyamorous race—no need to choose between the two.
Besides, you’re obligated to please my brother in any way he requests.
If you like it, that’s probably better for you. Corrik would want that.”
I still wasn’t sure. “What about Markaytia? I haven’t even tried to get away.”
He laughed. “What would be the point trying? You can’t.
You’re beating yourself up over things you have no control over.
You need this spanking and probably a few more to get out of your head.
I want you to let go, to stop thinking. This will hurt.
After a time, your focus will be narrowed to the pain and when you reach that state of painful bliss, you’ll have an easier time letting go. ”
He talked about it like he knew something of it on a deeper level. “Yes, sir.”
His hand was crisp but lighter than Corrik’s.
Corrik was an expert at packing a lot of power into his swats, even while taking care that I am a human.
I almost told Ando he could go harder, but that’s not what one does.
If he wanted to go easy on me, I was going to let him.
Besides, there was still plenty of sting in each swat and after some time, my arse was tingling.
It was also embarrassing being spanked like that, knowing I needed it.
That’s a feeling that never quite goes away, at least it hasn’t yet, but at the same time, it’s part of where that feeling comes from, that special, unnamable one that lights your body abuzz and makes this whole spanking thing invigorating.
“Having any revelations down there?”
“Just that I want up, this isn’t working, sir.” I felt silly then. I was uncomfortable with the whole thing because I hadn’t embraced it.
“I’m not whacking you hard enough, am I?”
Ugh. I was going to have to admit to that. “No, sir.”
“It’s the first time I’ve spanked a human like you,” he said. “I am attempting not to break you.”
“Then why are you spanking me?”
“Because you have a nice arse,” he said, which was not a real answer, which meant I wasn’t going to get one. “All right, brace yourself.”
He increased the intensity and picked up the pace and okay, yeah, then it became a real spanking. I sucked wind and had to do some serious breathwork not to squirm too much. “I take it that’s better?”