Chapter 23 #2
He keeps spanking though until I’m sure I won’t be sitting for a week even though I know that’s not a possibility from just his hand. He’d need another kind of implement for that— they make special Elven spanking implements, just for that instance here.
I’m panting heavily and feeling very sorry for myself when he finally stops. “Are you going to behave yourself and obey me?”
“Yes, sir. I won’t do it. I’ll find another way to end the war,” I say with a cheeky grin.
He gives my arse a final whack, and it’s one I can feel the handprint of and then he’s helping me stand up and removing the rest of my clothing.
I work on pushing his white jacket off and trace over his hard skin like I always do.
“I no longer have to be gentle with you, Tristan. I look forward to being the one to take your Elven virginity too.”
“When, uh, when exactly is that going to happen?” I ask as he pulls me into a hot kiss.
With all the comments he made upon seeing me for the first time as Elf, I thought he’d ravage me as soon as we returned home, but he did not.
There’s been a lot of these little teasing sessions and I don’t know how he holds back; I am Elf now, I feel the primal urges and they’re intense.
I’m not a dominant lover and even I’ve wanted to pin Corrik down and fuck him, or somehow make him fuck me.
He knows. Bastard! “On our wedding night,” he says.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re going to re-enact our first wedding?”
“Sort of. Only I have an addition.” He reaches over to the nightstand on his side to fetch the horrid contraption. It’s a lot like the one I wore at our wedding. “New and improved, for an Elf.”
I take the cock cage from him and inspect it, my cheeks flushing at the sight of it. “Does that bit go inside my cock, Corrik?”
“Yes. This one locks on with magic and if I put it on now, think about how aroused you’ll be by the wedding.”
“Corrik, please. That’s cruel,” I whine. But he knows I won’t refuse him. He’s kind of an adorable sadist, the way he looks like a little boy being told he’s getting a new puppy isn’t something I can resist.
“And yet I find it delicious. We’ll put it on tonight after I’ve taken care of this,” he says referring to my too hard cock, his face smug. “See how nice I am?”
I want to tell him just how nice he’s not, but he doesn’t have to take care of anything, and I know that cheeky boys don’t get orgasms. Plus, I know well I’m not getting any orgasms after a spanking that was not just for fun.
There’s a spanking spectrum and while what I just got was not punishment, it was a warning—which is too close to punishment on the said spectrum. “You’re the nicest there is, sir.”
“That’s a good boy,” he says ghosting a hand over my balls and leaning into kiss me again. I whine into his mouth and my cock feels like it might burst. Good boy does something to me. “Looks like you can be well-behaved when you set your mind to it.”
“I can, sir. I can suck your cock too if you’ll let me.”
Corrik groans. “I want that, I do. But I’m going to wait too.”
My eyes widen. “You sure that’s a good idea.” It’s one thing for me to be stupid, horny, but Corrik will be an animal by then.
“You are Elf and a menacing one at that, you can handle me.”
“It will be savage.”
“You live for danger, much to my dismay. It will practically be a wedding gift.”
I laugh. “You know me—no more boats though.”
He rubs noses with me. “No more boats.”
Life as an Elf gets better, which surprises me.
Halflings have always been part Elf, I was a full human, turned Elf.
But one does not simply become Elf, it must be permitted by the king and the Gods.
Getting both permissions is enough for most Elves to accept that you always were an Elf in terms of spirit, you just had the ‘misfortune’ of being born in a human’s body.
That’s how they see it.
I think it’s a load of shite. I still feel like a Markaytian, I’m Tristan in every way, I’m just more badass. Yes, I’m an Elf, I’m bigger and have unimaginable strength, I have the ability to harness magical energy, but I determine what I will do with these gifts, not the gifts themselves.
Zelphar the Elven Warlord is about the only one in my immediate circle of concern who doesn’t believe I deserve full Elf status, but unfortunately for him, I have more status than he does, even if I have no jurisdiction on the field.
The only thing he had was that he could have me beat daily and have it look like it was just my frail human form to blame.
Now, I can keep up and sink some of his warriors to the ground.
Bayaden was right, I still have a lot to learn, but now I have hope of learning it.
The king commissions a new sword for me as a gift.
All of the swordsmiths in Mortouge fight over who gets to make it for me.
It will be given to me at the ceremony, the one that should have happened long ago to officially introduce me to Mortouge, though Corrik claims I need no introduction with all the trouble I’ve caused.
He’s probably right about that.
But we do have a gathering to honor all the children we lost to the witch wyrms with the royal family’s solemn vow not to allow another child to go missing.
With the wedding approaching, I need to speak with Alrik. He hasn’t made the necessary arrangements to end of our engagement and that’s concerning.
He never returned my cuff. I knew not to ask about it. If he planned on giving it back, he would have by now. I’ve already gone to Strobavik. His vivid blue eyes turned down in time with his ears when he saw me without it. “The prince has withdrawn his permission,” I said. My lip wobbled.
He knew which one. Somehow and in some way, I’m beholden to Alrik. My eyes filled with tears.
Strobavik wiped them away with his thumb. I almost meet his height now, about half a foot shorter but close. “Don’t fret, sweetheart. Come. I promised you would meet my children. D’ayawin has a new kitten she’d like to show you.”
“They know of me?”
“Of course, they do. You’re quite famous with having been turned Elf and all. Heads up, she’s called the damn thing Tristan. It’s as stubborn as you are.”
Iknow where to find Alrik, he’s so bloody predictable and no I don’t have a guard bring me down like I’m supposed to. That was meant to end once I became an Elf but to my dismay, Corrik relayed to me that Alrik insisted the rule remain in place. Bet Alrik was too chicken to tell me himself.
“How long were you planning to ignore me?” I say taking a seat preparing to watch him polish his sword for a bit.
“What did I say would happen next time you came here without a guard?”
“We need to talk Alrik, and you’re avoiding me.”
He sets his sword down. “Come here.”
“No.”
“What did you say to me?”
“I said no. We need to talk, Alrik.” I keep my body hard, not giving an inch.
“If you’ve come to plead your case about the engagement, you’ve wasted your time. I’m planning to make the official announcement that we are no longer engaged at the ceremony. Happy?”
Of all the…! Elves are frustrating, especially this one.
I vow never to be so frustrating. “I’m not happy.
You’re not being honest with me.” Corrik’s right and I feel the truth of it in my Elven body—there’s an energy between us and denying it isn’t good for either of us.
I want to, for me, nothing to do with Aldrien wars.
Besides, Alrik is Alrik. I doubt very much he would be swayed even by love if that were to happen between us.
If we don’t handle this thing between us, we’ll both explode—especially if he’s restraining half as much as I am.
“I’m not being dishonest either. I just don’t want to chat further. Now get your arse over here. I promised you a spanking if you disobeyed me again and I mean what I say.”
Ugh!
I stomp over to him. “I don’t want a spanking. I won’t do it again.”
He pulls down my pants and underthings anyway, undeterred by my complaining. “If you don’t want a spanking, obey me.”
When I’m over his knee, facing the floor, I hear him take a sharp breath. He pauses to rub my bare arse, but then I’m attempting not to bite through my lip as his hand connects to my backside, painfully. “Why have you earned this spanking?”
“For disobedience, sir.”
“Indeed,” he says, as he lays down another crisp set of whacks that ring out and echo off the walls of the armory. I grimace and my jaw tenses. Alrik never messes around, his spankings are always fucking exacting from beginning to end. “What have you to say for yourself?”
“I will get a guard to bring me next time, promise. Ow!”
“Who says you’re invited for a next time, hmmmm?”
But I can’t answer that yet. I’m busy trying not to move out of the target range.
Spankers hate when you squirm excessively, they add for that, but to willingly remain in front of that which is blistering your bottom is work.
I grunt and wince. I wish I’d obeyed him in the first place.
When he pauses, I release the breath I was holding. “Am I not invited back, sir?”
He doesn’t answer, unless you call him spanking my arse an answer.
In that case, he answered for several minutes.
My eyes watered through the pain and I fought the urge to struggle.
Strobavik taught me well—Alrik doesn’t like a lot of reaction, if you’ve earned a spanking from him, you take it stoically.
And he’s unyielding, his hand falling over and over.
I have to work to pull a breath and grip his pant leg for support.
I’m probably not supposed to, but he doesn’t correct me.
I shut my eyes tight, the bright, magical lighting overstimulating as tears drop to the floor and I stifle many a groan, feeling very sorry for myself. He slows his onslaught of swats, finishing with a loud smack I know will leave a hand-sized print in dark red. “Ahhhh, sir!”