Chapter 11 #6
Corrik has gotten too efficient at baring my bottom and placing me over his knee.
I can’t help relishing in the feel of the large Elf’s thick thighs even though my arse is already tingling, knowing it’s about to be roasted.
He doesn’t give me time to think about it for too long, his hand is coming down rapidly.
I’m too provoked by the thought of my parents’ arrival to sink into the spanking, to even think about accepting it. I kick and resist and complain. “Ow! Ow, Corrik. This isn’t nice.”
“Is this what you want your parents to walk in and see? You having your bottom warmed?”
“No, and if you would stop, there wouldn’t be any worry about it. Yowwch!” Rule number one—never get sassy with thy spanker, it can’t end well. Corrik thinks my lip means I need him to spank me harder, so he does. Quickly, my arse is scorched, and I’m groaning, feeling sorry for myself.
But then magic happens. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to explain it. After all the fight is out of me and the throb in my arse has reached new heights, I melt. I finally accept that this is happening, and that Corrik isn’t letting me up until I let go and release the tension from my body.
It’s a submission thing, and it happens when I’ve been spanked long enough.
I don’t know what else to tell you, but this is what happens for me every damn time.
Even when I think it won’t, eventually it happens.
Sometimes it happens sooner, sometimes later.
Whatever the rhyme and reason, a knot disappears, and I release a good portion of the anxiety holding me hostage.
When he stands me up, I feel a world better.
He looks me over. “You need another spanking, but we’ll let this one sink in first.”
“Another?” I complain pulling up my pants over my tender arse. “That’s hardly fair. I haven’t even done anything.”
“Yet. You haven’t done anything yet, and I’ll be keeping it that way, understand?”
My lip wobbles. “Yes sir.”
“Come here, my darling. Everything will be all right.”
Corrik hugs me, and I grip him tightly.
He also helps me brush out my long hair as I fret over it. “What if Father doesn’t like the blue and purple? Accch, who am I kidding? He’s going to hate it.”
Corrik waves his hand over my hair, the purple and blue vanish, leaving only the black. “Better?”
I tear up. It’s like Bayaden has left me, even though I still feel his magical essence. “No. I want it back, Corrik.”
He brings it back. “It was never gone. I can’t get rid of it,” he says somewhat annoyed about that fact. “I can only create an illusion over it.”
“I’ll take my chances.” I can’t bear to see the color gone.
He rolls his eyes at me.
When I’m dressed, I do look nice, but the clothes are confining.
The fabric is white with finely detailed silver embroidery, and rises halfway up my neck, open in the center.
The sleeves are long, and the garment reaches past my hips, to show off the black, cropped pants and tall boots.
The look is finished with a soft green cape and a wide, silver, neckpiece, which hangs down on my chest and spans my collar bone.
Even though most of my neck is covered, it feels bare without Bayaden’s collar.
I left it for him under his pillow. I don’t know if he’ll bother to keep it.
He has a new husband to think of, but I needed to give him something and it was all I had, which technically wasn’t mine anyway.
It was Bayaden’s to give; it was a display of his ownership over me.
I’m happy with how I look though. Corrik places a thin crown on my head.
“When you become Elf, there will be a ceremony for you, and you will have another crown. But you are still a prince, and this is your temporary crown.” I recognize it from our wedding.
I doubt it’s the same one. I’m sure most things were lost on the ship, but it’s a replica.
I do look good, even if I don’t feel like myself—I am more comfortable in simple things—but when Corrik comes into the library (where he sent me to stop me running around cleaning and dirtying up my clothes), I know I pale in comparison.
He’s put his white outfit on, his signature one, with the gold trim and open jacket to display his chiseled abs.
His long, gold hair with streaks of white, is brushed until it flows, and he tops the look with his crown.
“You’re stunning, Corrik.” It’s an odd thing to miss one man so completely while being genuinely enchanted with another. I never thought I’d be the man in love with two men, but here I am. “We ready to do this?”
“I don’t know that I’ll ever be ready to recount the story of how I lost you, but it must be done.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Corrik,” I try again.
“It was.” He moves the hair from my face. “I am having a hard time forgiving myself, but last night was good. I am feeling hopeful that we can move past this.”
He bends down to kiss me; it makes my heart race and my body heat, and I think that we can move past this too.