Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
H ours later, I stare out at the endless sea. I’m thinking. Dominant. Top. Submissive. Brat . I’ve been avoiding a label.I’m not sure any fit other than: I am Tristan Kanes, lover of mischief, commander of armies.
I already know I obey Corrik—that goes without saying. Aside from it being part of our vows, I’m used to that kind of a relationship anyway, Papa always obeyed Father. But what of the other things I’m learning?
“Penny for your thoughts young Warlord?”
I turn to scowl at Diekin. “Do not call me that. I’m not Warlord.” We have this same argument over and over.
“You are. It is in your blood whether Corrik wants to let it out or not.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Why do you think he sends me to babysit you when you can clearly take care of yourself?”
“I’m unfamiliar with every danger—you said so yourself.”
“Yes, but that’s not the point—no warrior can know all danger. I was merely pointing out that perhaps you require help with some dangers. I did not mean to imply you could not face danger. Now answer the question.”
“How am I to know? That damn Elf won’t tell me anything. Learn by experience ,” I mock.
Diekin laughs. “Infuriating, isn’t it? Most Cyredanthems are that way. Fine. I will tell you since you insist on being difficult. He knows of the dragon in your blood, but has others surround you to protect you so you won’t have to use it. He does not want you to fight, Kathir.”
“But why?”
“That I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?” he says with a cocky smirk. He knows I’m still shy with Corrik. It’s odd. I’ve become less shy with him in all matters sex, but something as harmless as talking still proves difficult.
“I have . Bloody bastard won’t tell me a thing.”
“Well, I’m neither here to babysit nor to tease you, brother, but the latter comes rather easily to me,” he says, with a wink. “I wish to offer myself to you.”
“Offer yourself to me?”I know the Elves are a polyamorous culture.
He laughs.“Don’t get too excited. I meant, my ear and my experience. I have something to offer you that is not sex, but I am happy to see sex is at the forefront of your mind these days,” he teases. “What I have to offer you is to do with our nature. We are alike, you and I.”
Those words are familiar and immediately I remember Papa on the last day I saw him.
“We are alike Tristan. You and I.”
“Diekin, do you mean you are a submissive?”
“Yes. I’m Ditira’s submissive,” he says with all the pride in the world. “I’m also a proud brat.”
I don’t care. The sky is spinning. My gut has dropped a thousand feet and is then plunged into ice water. Was that what Papa was trying to tell me? Was he submissive to Father?
Growing up, I understood Father’s word as law; Papa acted in the same regard, but I thought it was because of Father’s title, Warlord, and Papa’s as his Second. Father was in charge on the field, I saw no difference with him being in charge in our home. It seemed right, normal even and so I never questioned it.
“Kathir, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I need to be alone.”
“Okay, but I mean it. There is much you are going to learn, and it will confuse you. I’ll be better at helping you with particular aspects than Corrik will be because you and I are the same. Dominants—especially Corrik—can tend to be pig-headed, they do not possess patience. When you need me, I will be here.”
“Yeah, I mean, I will Diekin—I’ve really got to go.”
I leave poor Diekin confused and run to Corrik’s and my chambers. I’m not watching where I’m going, and I end up running smack into the person I don’t want to see right now. Corrik.
“Tristan?” His voice is filled with concern.
“What?” I snap.
The concern quickly becomes laced with irritation. It doesn’t take a lot to provoke him, and I have; yet right now I can’t care a wit, I want to provoke him. When I glare instead of apologizing, he slams me against the dark wooden wall. “By Ylor! What’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing. I want to be left alone.”
His eyes rake over me and then scan back up to mine. “And you shall.” The steel in his voice momentarily removes me from my confused anger as he drags me into our chambers. Once inside, he tosses me on the bed and for the first time I’m scared of the large war Elf.
He searches in one of his bags and returns with two thick leather straps. Dear Gods, is he going to use one in each hand?
“Turn on your stomach.”
“Corrik I’m sorry—"
“Turn on your stomach.”
I do as he’s ordered. I can be brave. I’ve taken a strapping before, it’s nothing like being sliced through with a sword, which I’ve endured as well.
I’m shocked and relieved when he takes my forearms and binds them together behind my back with one strap and uses the other to do the same with my ankles. Once he’s finished, I roll to the side. “You arse! I thought you were going to beat me with those.”
“The day is still young,” he growls, looking like he does want to beat me within an inch. I can see the now familiar restraint in his body.
“I will leave you now. To be alone ,” he says.
A moment ago, I wanted him gone, now that he’s leaving, I want him to stay. “Corrik! You can’t leave me like this. Please .”
“You asked for time alone and that’s exactly what you’ll get.”
In no mood to be generous with me, he turns and stalks out, a slamming door all he leaves behind; while I fume on the bed tied like a hog ready for roasting.
B loody straps are all I can think about.
I have another thought that ferments inside my brain; part of me wants him to beat me, to feel his strap on my bare skin, to feel my skin heat red and the endorphins circle around in my blood— to cry until I’m physically exhausted.
I’ve been thinking about Papa and his final message to me.The result? The inside of me is chaos .
I fight my bonds. I tug, wiggle, pull and hop around on my stomach and it’s at least thirty minutes later that I realize they were secured by an Elf, a clever Elf who apparently knows something about binding a person. Once I realize the decision to be still has been made for me, something else takes over and I relax. I sink into the bed and let the bonds hold me—like it’s Corrik holding me—as I think.
I think about Father and Papa. All the times my father berated Papa and all the times Papa would say, “Yes Arcade. Of course, Arcade.” Was that part of how he submitted? I also think about his words to me on the day after my wedding. It’s my fault, Tristan. It’s all my fault. Is he the reason I’m like this? Did he raise me to be this way without my knowledge? What is “this way?”
Whatever it is, I don’t like it. As much as Papa raised me, I was also raised by my father to be a strong warrior—I’ve got the blood of a dragon in me—if Corrik wants me to submit to him he can earn it.
The door opens and Corrik returns to see I’m not much better off than I had been.
“I demand you let me go, Corrik.”
“I see you need more time alone.” He pretends to be irritated, but he’s not. He’s in a much better mood than when he left. I wonder if it has something to do with me being bound?
“Fine leave. Who needs you?”
I wiggle around on the bed like I intend to leave but of course I can’t.
“Enough, Kathir. I’m going to release you and then we’ll talk about what’s bothering you.”
I’ll talk with him of nothing, but I’m silent so he’ll unbuckle me. I sigh relief when he removes the strap from around my forearms; I didn’t realize how sore my shoulders had got. I don’t have time to rub them; however, before he turns me over his knee without releasing the strap around my ankles. In one motion, my travel pants are pooled around the strap at my feet and my underthings too; my bottom is at his mercy.
“This isn’t talking, Corrik,” I brat at him.
“You’re a slow learner then, my little Markaytian—this is how I talk.” Without further preamble, he makes quick work heating the cheeks of my bottom with his hand. When it starts to sting, I wiggle and squirm to get out of target range but he’s too strong and my arse is further assaulted. He doesn’t say a word and I wonder how he can define this as talking? It doesn’t take long for the tears to come because of the sting, but also the frustration of getting spanked without any choice in the matter.
My feelings turn to my real problem. I think of Papa, Father, what Diekin’s said to me … They’re right. There’s something different about me that’s clear to Corrik and Diekin, that has been left undiscovered by me until now. It’s a strange realization because I know submission is part of me—I think I’ve known for a while—but I’m learning about what it means to me.How it threads into my identity.
I know I feel better when Corrik gives me what he seems to know I need even if I don’t know I need it myself. I cry, releasing my anger and frustration, succumbing to the pain. I let the tears drown the chaos until I’m soothed.
Corrik seems to realize I’ve reached this point. He flips me up and makes short work of removing the rest of my clothes and the last strap around my ankles. He tosses me on the bed and undresses himself as I watch him and try to sneak a hand back to cool the fire on my cheeks.
“Do not touch your bottom—just feel the burn,” he instructs.
I don’t know if this is meant to be more punishment for mouthing him off or if there’s a reason for it—either way I have no choice but to do as he says. I enjoy the view of his naked body and let the pain wash over me.
Corrik takes a bottle of lube from the nightstand drawer and flips me over to slick the crease of my hot cheeks. I inhale, sharply. “Ow! Corrik,” I protest.
“No. Take it. Feel .”
I do. I let him press his finger into my sore cheeks, the ones that still burn, and then two fingers and then three, and when I’m prepared, he turns me on my back. “Up.”
He switches places with me and sits on the bed. His cock is rock solid, and the skin looks like it’s going to burst open. “You’re going to ride my cock, Tristan.”
I look hesitantly at the thing that will impale my sore ass but approach him anyway—like I would an angry dragon. “This isn’t about punishment, Tristan. I need to be inside you.”
“But it will hurt.”
“Yes. I want you to take my cock anyway.”
My pain—he wants my pain. He gave me what I needed and now he’s taking what he needs. “You said you would never force me into sex.”
“If you truly do not want this, say stop and I’ll let you go … but I don’t think you want me to stop—I think you want me to make you, am I right?”
His words stun me for a second because he’s right—I do want him to make me. I nod a small nod.
“Come then, it would please me greatly.”
I want to please him. There’s nothing better. I climb over top of him on the bed and kneel to either side of him as he backs up against the headboard. His hands are gentle, but my cheeks still hurt when he pries them apart. When I slide down over his cock, the burn is intense—but I like it. My cock is just as hard as his looks. We share a look that is intense and meaningful before I slam down hard and begin to ride him and am lulled by the sound of skin slapping on skin. I push my hands through his long gold hair as he pushes up and presses his cock all the way inside me. I’m on top, but he’s in charge.
There’s heat, we’re sweating, and our bodies slip and slide against one another as he claims me from below. He sucks my left nipple hard, and I cry out at the pain, so much pain all at once. Pain in my arse cheeks, pain from my nipple, and then Corrik’s hand grabs my cock, and all thinking is gone. It’s slick with lubricant and I fuck his hand as I ride him. The sensations overcome me, and I beg him, “ Please … please … May I come, Corrik?” I’m used to having his permission in things—it feels right I should ask him this.
“Come for me, sweet boy.”
I do—all over his stomach—and at the same time he comes inside me. We end in a kiss .
Corrik takes the time to clean us both and then wraps me in his arms, spooning me from behind. “Can you talk now, D’orhai?”
I nod because somehow, I can. As if all of what I just went through, including the spanking, released what I was holding onto. “I’m like him, Corrik. No one told me.” It’s no one’s place to tell Tristan who he is. He must learn for himself. Father was right. I need to explore this on my own, but now that I’m on the path to self-discovery, I wish I had Papa to talk to about this.
“I assume you refer to your papa?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“I’m a Dominant, D’orhai. We sense these things from miles away.”
“Have you ever been wrong?”
“Not in all my years and being an Elf, I’m exceptionally good at knowing. We are taught to see and acknowledge these things from very small. But back to you—you feel better now, yes?”
“I do, but why, Corrik? Why does that help me?”
“Does it have to make sense? Can’t it be enough that it does?”
“I suppose it will have to be—at least for now—but I’ve never felt quite this way before, like I’m out of control inside.”
“You did, but you’ve had your father to help you—you just didn’t know he was doing it. He is an exceptional Dominant and you need someone who is quite strict—at least at times. He helped you before you knew you were out of sorts. He was able to do that because he’s known you since birth. We’ve only just begun to know each other—we’re learning. In time I will come to anticipate your needs.
“What you feel in this regard will be more intense than it ever was. I will bring out your submissive nature as much as you’ll bring out my dominant nature. I almost couldn’t contain myself on our wedding night, my need to dominate you was strong—I wanted to see my marks on your body; I didn’t like anyone touching or being near you.”
It’s a big admission. I think on what he’s said. I’m also beginning to understand why it would have been difficult for him to explain all of this without some kind of experience for me to draw from. Even now as I’m in it, it’s hard. On our wedding night I would have been lost. “What will that be like Corrik? When you mark me—no wait—I already know what you’ll say.”
“Oh really? Have I become predictable already?”
“You’ll say, ‘learn by experience’ and I’ll roll my eyes when you’re not looking.”
He laughs. “You should ask Diekin about it. I won’t force you, but I highly suggest you do.”
I nod, perhaps I will. “What?” I ask when I see he’s still staring at me.
“You were right to speak up to me about your tattoo,” he says as he caresses it lovingly. “It is ‘you’ to me now. I can’t imagine you without it.”
I’m touched and don’t know what to say in return—that means more to me than anything he’s said or done so far. It’s him accepting me for me, a warrior by skill and by blood. I smile, but then my stomach growls.
“I’ve never heard a stomach growl as often or as loudly as yours,” he says, pulling me off the bed and handing me my clothes. “Come. We’d better get you something before your stomach eats itself.”