Page 24 of A Brat's Tale
Elves must be born with the ability to sense when someone is content after a spanking—Andothair knew when to stop. I was in a euphoric daze. The pain in my backside flared, and at the same time I felt like I was floating. He guided me to standing and placed me in front of a wall. “Take a moment. Stand here and let the lesson sink in. When you are ready, you may leave, though I’ll be at my desk if you should need anything else.” He winked at me.
I rolled my eyes.
What was I supposed to let sink in?I didn’t know. Instead, I let it all go. I was confused as hell and felt silly standing in front of a wall like I was a kid in time out, but it narrowed my focus to the marble I was facing so I wasn’t distracted. I wouldn’t have thought to do that on my own. I let all the feelings and sensations wash over me; I felt worked over, exhausted, but content. I stood there until I felt settled. I still couldn’t say the feelings were completely abolished—they’re there, lounging in the background—but I could move on with my day.
Until the next time.
And there would be a next time, because Bayaden and I would have sex again, and I would return until Bayaden eventually took over like Andothair said he would.
"Are you sorted now?" Bayaden asked when I returned. He was sitting on his bed, his back against the wall, looking out of the smaller window. He had an odd peace about him, his long hair like fresh spun silk in waves down his back. The leg against the wall was fully extended, the other bent, his bare foot planted on the mattress, an arm wrapped around the knee. I was tempted to call him soft, but I knew better.
"Yes."
"Come," he said, holding out a hand for me.
He caught my hand and pulled me to him, pressing me against his body, my back to his chest so I was looking out the window with him. The sun had just set, so there was only the last bit of glow over Aldrien before it was covered in purple darkness. "Shouldn't you be yelling at me to finish your boots?"
"Be quiet, for once."
Bayaden’s body was unyielding yet being in his arms was a comfort after what had just happened with Andothair, so I relaxed into him, and stared out at the brand-new night with him. I don't know how long we stayed like that, but eventually, he was tearing down my pants. "Do you mind very much?" I said.
He didn't, and paid me no mind, checking out my backside, running a hand over the hot flesh there. When he was done, he gave my bum a hefty smack (which fucking hurt) and pulled up my pants. "Go to bed." He got up to do some things around his room
I rubbed my poor arse.He was sending me to bed?
It wouldn’t be the last time I was spanked and put to bed, sometimes that’s just the way with me.
I didn’t argue and attempted to sleep, but I couldn’t settle until hecame to bed. I wasn’t to learn his feelings for me till sometime after that, nor would I admit to mine until much later, but looking back, I suppose I can see how they were always there. He watched me, checking in on me, making sure I had enough to eat in concealed ways, taking care of me as he was compelled to do. I was comforted by him, he grounded me and in return I soothed his internal aches, giving to him with my form of submission.
We are mates and we knew it before weknewit.
Chapter 6
Without the speed of an Elf, there’s a new meaning to pushing myself. The massive war Elf shows no mercy. His muscles contract and extend with power as his sword slams down like a hammer to a nail, that nail being me.
When I said without mercy, I might be exaggerating some. Bayaden has to hold back fighting at full capacity, else he will kill me. My cocky attitude over being able to best even a powerful Elf has been disproven many times over since I’ve been in Aldrien—a humbling experience to say the least. I pant as I heave my sword toward him, each move takes great effort. The sword alone is heavy, and it took months just for me to be able to lift it fast enough to make efficient moves. I spent a long-time doing drills Bayaden set for me.
The other warriors would make fun of me, but I didn’t care.Much.More often, I used the anger to fuel me, practicing as many hours as Bayaden would allow.
Sweat pours off me, sliding down my skin, mixing with blood from minor cuts and scrapes I’ve earned practicing with Baya this afternoon. He’s got a few too, but they’re not from me, mere collateral as a result of our quick movements, brushing up against trees and anything else in the way.
Bayaden is a formidable fighter. There are times I pause to marvel at him, and it gets me into trouble, paying more attention to his beautiful style rather than fighting, which takes all my concentration if I am to stand any chance. His style is unique—large, lethal movements that shouldn’t work, but because he’s so precise, they do.
Dammit. Bayaden slams against my neck with a blow that would have been fatal, sending my head clean off my body. His face is close to mine, a sword piercing my neck. “You were admiring me again.”
I smile. “A bit.”
“Five lashes for that.”
“Oh c’mon. Can you blame me?” His lips are close. We have to be somewhat careful on the field. Of course, Bayaden’s allowed to do whatever he wants to me and everyone would welcome the Warlord showing his manservant his place as he fucked him up against a tree, but there’s a difference between that and tenderness.
“You won’t get better if I don’t punish you. Now c’mon, up against that tree, accept your lashes like a warrior.”
Bayaden punishing me, however, is good for business. His warriors approve of seeing Bayaden take his belt to me. “All right, all right. Worth it.”
He’s as precise with his belt as he is with his sword and I feel the imprint of each hit against my back, hissing with each, sharpthwack. When I’ve taken my five, he spins me, pressing me against the tree, alighting the stripes there with new pain, but I don’t care, his lips are on me and I sink into that. I always let him lead and if he’s going to kiss me like this, I assume he’s caught us a moment with no one watching. When we break apart, Bayaden’s got a smug smile on his face, his eyes glittering with mirth. “Do you find me that magnificent when I’m striving to kill you?”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
