Chapter 15 #2
He lets go of my chin. “Today we move on. From here on out, you won’t be allowed to orgasm unless you have Alrik’s permission.
I have been given the guidelines as to how you will earn that permission.
You will have to satisfy the guidelines and please me as well.
Do you understand?” His ears move with the sharp edge of his voice.
Ugh. That’s gonna be tough. All of this submission stuff turns me on. Humiliation is my thing and I find everything Master Strobavik does to me embarrassing enough that it lights up my cock whether I want it to or not. “Yes, Master Strobavik.”
I’m kneeling at his feet, my arms are behind my back, hands linked to opposite wrists. The stones are cool under my toepads and I recall the warm sandstone under my feet in the hallways in Aldrien—those days seem so long ago.
“Today we begin to build your endurance to that end. When you are with Prince Alrik, you won’t be allowed to orgasm often. When he permits release, you must show him proper respect for allowing you such an honor.”
It won’t come to that. Corrik will be home any day now. I envision him stalking through the door like the predator he is. I’ll serve him in the ways he likes, ways that are far less constricting than Alrik’s demands.
“Up on the bed, on all fours.”
I crawl over to the bed—he didn’t tell me to get up, I’m not getting caught out on that one again—and climb onto the large mattress as gracefully as I can. I remember Tom moving from kneeling to standing positions, he was damn near artistic with his movements. I am nowhere close to that.
I get into position and sure enough, Master Strobavik’s crop is landing sharply on my arse. “Arse out, Tristan.” Crack! “Not good enough.” Crack! “Arch your back.” Crack!
I bite my tongue because yeah it fucking hurts, but complaining only gets you more whacks from Strobavik’s crop. When I’m finally in position to his liking, I’ve got several sore patches of skin complaining at me and my eyes are wet in the corners.
“I’m going to pull down your shorts, Tristan, and then you will hold position.”
His fingers reach under the waistband of the small shorts brushing against my skin and I shiver—this is happening, it’s really happening.
I continue to focus on my goal here, which is to serve Corrik in the best way I can.
Strobavik is a talented dungeon master, I can learn a lot from him.
The cool air hits my skin as he peels the shorts to my mid-thighs, my cock springs free ready to party.
Sorry buddy, you’re gonna need to calm down.
Instead of the spell to help my human body make the lube-like substance I’m told I’ll make as an Elf, he lathers my arse with lube from a bottle, massaging it into my crevices, making the area warm.
“Mmmmm,” I can’t help moaning, and I imagine the way his face scrunches when he’s displeased since I can’t see him from this angle.
“Tristan,” he scolds.
“Sorry, Master Strobavik.”
“Mmmhmmm.”
I’m not supposed to be so responsive for Alrik. This is more to do with his personal preferences than the Master-slave relationship in general. Though I have noticed, that while Strobavik began as an anal bastard who would not allow me to get away with anything, he’s softened just a bit.
Only a bit.
He’s still unrelenting and I don’t get away with much, but for a response like that in the past, he would have broken out his special wooden Tristan Paddle.
That’s its name. He had it made specially for me because with the slaves and submissives he trains, they usually don’t require something so juvenile—he didn’t have one on hand.
But I am a fucking brat, and he’s known this since before he spoke out about it.
He knew he’d get nowhere with me without using some of the things my brain and body respond to.
It’s what they understand.
I start when his finger dips into my entrance, he smacks my arse hard with an open hand for that and after the sting dissipates some I relax. “That’s it, Tristan. Take what I give you. The key is to open yourself for receiving. This will make you pliant.”
His finger sinks in past both knuckles. It’s long, and the burn feels good. I resist the urge to push back but fuck do I want to. My cock is unhappy. He wants someone to touch him, but no one’s going to do that, at least not right now.
“That’s it, my naughty kitten can behave when he puts his mind to it.”
I twist my lips at him but only because I know he can’t see me do so. Naughty kitten is a name he gave me because I cannot behave like a proper slave should. Sometimes I feel insulted by it but more often I think it means he’s fond of me.
As much as others will bring out a specific energy in me, my brat energy brings out the playful energy of most I engage with no matter how rigid they are.
Would I be able to do that with Alrik if I tried?
“Is this aching, Tristan?” he says reaching under to grab my cock.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “I mean, yes Master Strobavik.”
I swear I hear him laugh. “When you are with Alrik, he will put you in chastity as most Masters do. There won’t be any need for this to be out, bothering you.”
He strokes it again but then thankfully leaves it alone.
With stroking and his finger in my arse, I’m not sure how long I would be able to hold back from orgasming.
What he’s said has me curious and I find I am forever curious about all things in the fetish realm.
I also can’t help remembering Corrik talking about chastity—fuck, Corrik has a chastity fetish too, doesn’t he?
“Is chastity a common kink among you, Elves?”
“Tristan.”
I’ve spoken out of turn again and I didn’t bother to use the appellation. Dammit. “Sorry!”
His magic hands are gone and when he returns, he has the dreaded Tristan Paddle.
We both know why I’m being punished. He lays down several firm whacks to my arse, and I have to fight not to tuck under or move away.
Each smack brings a fresh set of tears to the corners of my eyes because that thing’s fucking sting-y, and with the force Strobavik uses it always takes my breath away.
“Thank you for correcting me, Master Strobavik,” I say when he finally sets the paddle aside, my arse on fire.
“You aren’t behaving yourself today. You need to focus. I’m afraid you already don’t meet the requirements to earn permission for an orgasm tonight. You must do better before I can allow it.”
Gods dammit. “I will, Master Strobavik. I am sorry.”
He must hear the earnestness in my voice. “I know you will, but I also know you can do better. You’re distracted.”
“I am but … permission to speak, Master Strobavik?”
“Go ahead,” he says, returning his evil but delicious finger to my arse.
“I’m so curious. I want to know about these things. I want to know everything.”
“You have a brat’s curiosity, but you also know the appropriate way to ask questions. It is my decision as to whether or not it’s time to discuss things or if it’s time for you to focus on the task at hand. You will follow the rules if I have to paddle them into you.”
“Yes, Master Strobavik.” I hope he can’t see me smirking.
“To answer your question, yes. It’s common with Elves. We do like chastity, a lot. But don’t deny it, you do too. I can tell by the minute way your body responds at the mere mention of the idea.”
I am not telling him how right he is. Smug bastard.
It gets harder to hide my responses to his finger. It’s slow and deliberate, which means it’s slowly and deliberately driving me mad. It takes all my energy not to give in like I want to, and I thank the Gods that when it’s Corrik doing this to me, I’ll be able to let loose.
Because it will be Corrik and he will come home.
As strict as Strobavik is, he’s good about praise. “That’s better. Focus, naughty kitten.”
I didn’t know there were cats in Mortouge, another question I asked out of turn when Strobavik first began calling me that. After he spanked me for it, he told me about the cats in Mortouge. They sound more ferocious than the cats we had in Markaytia.
As soon as Corrik is home, I’m demanding a tiny killer kitten.
Strobavik adds a finger, I whine. “I know, but you can do this. I am pushing you today, but I know you can take it. Think of how much it means to please Master Alrik, or if you need to, think about pleasing me.”
I’m supposed to spend time focusing on Alrik, thinking about worshipping and pleasing him, but I’m too angry with him.
I know none of this is his fault either and he must act in the ways he feels the crown prince in his position should, but I need someone to take it out on and Alrik’s it.
Strobavik knows I have a harder time when thinking of Alrik and will sometimes allow me to think of him instead since we have built some rapport between us.
I want to please Strobavik, I want him to tell me I’ve done well but I don’t use him for my muse either.
I use Corrik. I pretend it’s Corrik behind me, adding another finger.
At first this only serves to torture my cock further, but when I think about how much I’d like to please him, how much I want to give him this power over me, the edges of the world disappear.
I float off into another world where this is still torture, but I can do it.
I complain by way of an indeterminate noise. “I want to keep going too,” he admits, “but then we will be beyond what you can handle. You know I don’t promise fair but I’m not a total arsehole.”
“That’s debatable, Master Strobavik.”
He smacks my arse for that. “You need another spanking, but you pulled it together and have done well for your first day so not getting the spanking is your reward.”
Only I would have “not getting spanked” as a real thing on a list of rewards. “Thank you, Master Strobavik. Are you sure there isn’t something that says if Tristan goes on to behave himself, he can orgasm?”