Chapter 20 #3
He tenses, snarling which is all the answer I get.
His dark eyes look black especially with the way his long white hair frames his face and hangs over his shoulders, imitating the experience of looking into a cave and finding two glistening orbs that want to kill you.
Alrik is stunning. Everything about him is unforgiving—his expression, his body language, the energy swirling around him.
Alrik seldom wears a shirt, and it’s weird to me, especially with him being the authority figure he is.
He’s scarred to hell, not shy sparring with Zelphar’s warriors or joining a battle when he’s needed and choosing to keep his markings—long raised deformed flesh, marring the landscape of his pristine skin.
If Alrik didn’t piss me off so much I might like him.
Just a little.
I’ve spent so long staring at him, I don’t realize he’s been doing the same to me until he snatches my wrist, the one with Strobavik’s cuff.
“What’s this?” I yank my wrist back or try to. It doesn’t move, locked in Alrik’s stone grip. His fingers dig into my flesh and I expect bruises. “Tell me, now.”
I flinch. “I am Strobavik’s seventh apprentice.” Or I will be. We haven’t had lessons yet.
“No one asked me. Why wasn’t I asked about this?”
He finally lets go of my wrist. I rub out the ache. “And why should you be? Corrik gave his permission.”
Alrik clenches his fists—Gods I piss him off—his nostrils flare. “Somehow, you manage to do things without my knowledge despite my best efforts. You’re a thorn in my side, Tristan. I don’t know why the Gods have cursed me with your existence.”
That’s it. I’ve had enough. I’m going to punch him square in his perfect teeth. He’ll throw me in the dungeon, but it will be worth it.
I fume at him, planning my attack, how I’ll reach that high, but thankfully Corrik returns to save me from myself. “Tristan? Are you all right?”
“Dandy. May we leave, sir?”
He looks between me and Alrik. Alrik shrugs. “Let’s go, my love.” He picks up my leash and we exit the Hall.
As soon as we’re far enough away, Corrik presses me against a marbled wall in an alcove where we can be hidden away and then thrusts himself against my body.
I enjoy the pressure of his weight and the soft material of his white and gold coat.
He kisses me long and hot and I would forget all about Alrik, but Corrik brings him up.
“I’m sorry about my brother. But he’s taken with you Tristan. ”
“What? No. No! I won’t believe it. No more Elves taken with Tristan. Especially no to him. He’s a total arse, Cor.” I speak quietly so Alrik doesn’t have me thrown in the dungeons for treason should someone overhear me and rat me out.
Corrik smiles and then nuzzles into my neck. “He’s not good at feelings and he’s sure you despise him.”
I huff. “I do.”
“You do not. I know you better than you think I do, Tristan.”
“Enough, Corrik. Either fuck me or take me to play with swords. I’ll hear no more of this nonsense about Alrik.” I open my neck to him and enjoy the way he nibbles at it.
“I do not wish to upset you. Come along. There are still things I wish to do to you.”
We return to our room. I’ve calmed down, my mind is onto the things Corrik will do. “Fetch my strap,” he says once we’re inside.
“What? Cor. I wasn’t that misbehaved.”
His eyes darken, brows frowning. “Not a request, pet.”
Oh. Oooooh. But still! I really wasn’t that misbehaved.
I throw all proper submissive behavior out the window, storming over to the place on the wall where he keeps his strap and remove it.
I carry it to him and hand it over, still not exercising any kind of proper protocol.
He’s amused as I stand arms crossed, awaiting further instruction.
He approaches, the strap held in one hand, his other slides to grip my face.
“Well now you’re just asking to be spanked, my darling. ”
“You win, Corrik. I suck at this. Just whip me for being a “bad pet” or whatever and be done with it.”
He pulls me to him. “Oh no you don’t. We were interrupted but we’re going to get back on track. That’s why I’ve pulled out my strap. You’re not in trouble—yet.”
I peer at him. “What about the demerits I’ve racked up?”
He grins. “I will have my fun with those of course, you’ll remember to behave properly the next time we do this, but you’re still not in any real trouble. Lie yourself over the bed, spread your legs.”
This is territory I know. And maybe I need this spanking, not that I’ll admit to that out loud.
I take position on the bed, my torso pressed against our cozy comforter—the one I love wrapping myself against Corrik under at night—my feet planted on the floor, legs spread.
I imagine what I must look like for him, my arse upturned and ready, the crack visible with how wide my legs are, my balls dangling between my inner thighs.
Thank fuck for Elven precision—I wouldn’t want the strap landing anywhere near my nuts.
Corrik’s large hand with the slender Elven fingers rubs my arse. “You’ve been in and out of subspace today.”
“You could tell?”
“I could tell.” I slump further into the mattress, I thought I was going to impress him.
I wanted to impress him. “None of that. I enjoyed every moment, I’m going to enjoy more moments now.
I didn’t do a lot to help you—that part’s on me—but I knew you weren’t ready to surrender yet, which is your part.
Submission cannot happen without that commitment. ”
“But I was committed, Cor. I wanted to surrender to you.”
“You wanted to best me.”
“I’m a brat Corrik, it’s what we do.”
“Exactly. Brats do that and I’m not asking you to be someone you’re not, I want you to tap into another aspect of your character. This means I’ve got to show that side of you I’m worthy of it.”
“That makes no sense. I know you’re worthy. I spent my time learning from Strobavik so I could kneel for you. Most of the reason I said yes to him was so I could learn more for you.”
“All of that is nice in theory, my darling. But submission is felt deep inside. All your barriers must go—not disappear forever,” he says when I tense. “Just melt away for a time so I can enter. We’ll develop this over time.”
I’m still confused. I pillow my head in my crossed arms. “B-But Alrik. I practically fell into subspace with him. There’s no way I trust him more than I do you.”
“No, not generally,” he says laughing. “But the submissive part of you does. Energies can sync if they are of similar vibration, it happens at a subconscious level.”
“Stop trying to set me up with your brother, Corrik. It’s weird.”
He laughs and pets my arse, letting a finger slide between my cheeks. I inch toward it. “All right, I’ll leave it.”
But I think of something. “Why don’t our energies mesh like that?”
He freezes, but then continues his ministrations. “They do but, Tristan? I am getting the sense that our shared vibration will truly hit its stride when you are Elf.”
“Is that one of your other senses saying that to you?” While Corrik may have held just as much prejudice over humans as the next Elf in the beginning, that’s changed. I know that’s not where his feeling is coming from.
“It is. This is not to say we don’t mesh now, I feel you in my bones, my heart beats with your name.”
I smile into the sheets; my skin gets hot.
“But the Gods have placed challenges before us. Sometimes to entangle you must struggle, this only makes for deeper entanglement though—I’m not worried.”
Corrik’s never ending faith in us.
Thinking about it makes me slip, the edges of the world blur again. Corrik notices. “I’m going to strap you because it should please me, Tristan but also to teach you better focus. I won’t have you count this time. I want you to let go. Don’t hold your responses back either—I love them.”
That lets go another knot. That’s what’s right for us, for our energies together.
The strap whistles through the air, hurtling toward my arse.
Thwhack! “Ahhh!” The pain sears through me, I sink into it.
Another thwhack from the strap, this time it’s a muffled cry.
He moves to strike my arse again. Corrik paints stripes across my bare cheeks (many) and some across the backs of my thighs.
He keeps a particular cadence for this strapping, one I can’t track, making it difficult to anticipate.
Without knowing the outcome it’s best to simply let go.
The intensity builds and burns, when the next thwack comes, my flesh feels the pain before I’m struck, it’s a struggle to stay put. My fingers claw the sheets.
The next stripes have me bucking and crying out.
I forget to breathe, Corrik reminds me. It’s a new kind of strapping, one where I’m releasing—as I’ve done before—but I’m also giving.
This is for Corrik. I give him my pain, my cries, I give him the tender parts of me.
The end of it doesn’t even cross my mind. He can have as much of me as he needs.
I flinch when he touches my throbbing backside thinking it’s going to be the strap again. The combination of his gentle touch and the sting tickles. I giggle and curl into the sheets, still floating. “That was divine, Tristan. I’m … wow. I’m experiencing a spanker’s high.”
“I’m glad, sir.”
He helps me up, I buzz all over. “I’d like you to kneel for me. You’re going to suck my cock all pretty like this.”
“Yes, sir.”
He places the velvet purple pillow on the floor for me—purple must be his thing, like his eyes—and I kneel feeling like maybe I was as graceful as Tom.
I plant my toepads, pressing them into the pillow and hiss when my sore arse comes into contact with my heels.
It burns, endorphins race through my veins, my heart beats an excited rhythm.
I secure my hands behind my back and look up to him.
Corrik’s still dressed, a bulge the size of a melon at his crotch. He pulls his pants down just enough and his giant Elven cock springs out. “Suck.”