Page 31 of A Brat's Tale
My nakedness always feelsmorewhen Bayaden is clothed, the textbook symbol of power exchange. “Bend,” he says, and I know he means my left leg. He begins tying my calf to my thigh, with the sole of my foot flat on the bench. “When I first saw you, I didn’t like you much.”
It’s a random thing to say, he hasn’t talked about that in a long time, though maybe it’s not so random and maybe this is a whole lotof foreshadowing to thething, the thing I can feel but can’t touch. I pay attention. “That’s an understatement. Wehatedeach other. Passionately if I remember.”
He begins working on my other leg. “Did we though? I tend to think that underneath all the dislike, there was something.”
I didn’t believe Deglan when she told me how much the Warlord had taken to me, but after an explosive two months of hate-sex, he dragged me around everywhere and it became clear. Sure, I’m his manservant, but no I didn’t need to be attached at his hip. He doesn’t even sleep without me any more like I’m some kind of fucking teddy bear.
I pretend to mind, but he knows better. I’m happy to follow him like a puppy. “There was something,” I tell him. With my legs tied the way they are, I’m exposed, my hard cock throbbing at the thought of how I’ll look to anyone walking in because anyone could walk in and they’d see me spread for Bayaden like this. I could close my legs, but I don’t. Baya will just swat them open.
“You were such a brat, but I … I got excited to see what you would do next.”
“You just liked getting to spank me.”
“I’ll never deny that.” His smile is wide enough to show his sharp, Elven, eye-teeth. Next, he works on tying my arms open in a T-shape, flattened against the bench, but attaching cuffs to each wrist and clipping them to straps that hang from the posts. Now I’m vulnerable for whatever he’ll do, I shiver.
“If someone told me I could fall in love with a human, I would have had them banished.”
“Don’t hurt yourself over it,” I snark at him.
He swats the side of my arse. “I’m trying to tell you something if you’d behave for two minutes.”
I laugh. “Shutting up, sir.”
“I no longer think about humans as I used to. I never should have; you’ve changed me.”
My heart clenches and I don’t want to think about why he’s getting like this. I don’t even know how he’d, howwe’dseparate if we tried.Aside from obvious Andothair compilations, I made a loyalty oath through magic. Can it be undone? Regardless, I don’t want to go there, so I act my usual self. “Damn right you never should have. Elves I tell you. The lot of you are arrogant fools.”
He scowls. “That’s it. You’re in a bad position to be so cheeky.”
“Do your worst, Warlord.” Something you should never say to the Elven Warlord.
“I plan to.”
His fingers ghost up and over my bent knee and up my thigh. I feel every callous, every mark he left on his skin, preferring to keep the proof of his hard work rather than allowing it to heal away. He visits my cock too soon, to tease it and my hips buck off the table. “Please.”
“We have a long way to go before you’re getting that.”
Arse!
He circles his large finger at my hole, I’m powerless to do much more than lay back, surrender, and attempt not to be too needy, but it’s hard. He knows all my buttons. He whispers the spell and somehow my body makes a slick that lubes my entrance and allows his finger to slide in. I breathe through the initial burn, sighing happily when he’s all the way in. As he relaxes my opening, he leans over top of me, his hot lips meet mine and he sighs into them.
I tug at my bonds, not trying to escape, trying to chase his lips, get closer, feel him.
The throb in my cock turns into an ache, the arousal already getting too much. It’s like this whenever he ties me up—the sensation of being vulnerable sends me reeling. I start to get just a tad floaty. His fingers pump in and out, I feel both his calloused knuckles and can’t help pushing down, spreading my legs wider.
“Bet you’d like my cock in here, uh?” he says, breathless. My moaning and writhing are affecting him too; he can’t fool me.
I want to be snarky, but as he always says, I don’t have to come, and I want to. “Please, sir. I’ve been so good.”
“You have, foryouanyway.” He’s not wrong. I did throw his shirt in the fire, but that’s nothing. He smiles into my lips continuing to kiss me, still broadening my entrance so I can take his large cock. Hisfingers pull away and his mouth makes its way down my torso, sucking hickeys along my ribs, making me laugh when it tickles and cry out when he uses teeth.
A lot of our fucking is rough, as rough as he can be with a human. It leaves me marked and bruised up most of the time. In Elvish culture, the amount your lover marks you is a sign of how much you’re loved—you would only mark up someone you can’t resist. Conversely, your partner bears the marks proudly and can give you some of their own.
Most slaves are lucky to get any marks. It happens to Tom, who is adored by the king, but it’s never been to the extent I’ve had.
Bayaden can’t resist marking me, sinking his teeth into the tender skin of my inner thigh, enjoying my yowl.That’s going to stick around.He uses his tongue to lick up my taint and to the base of my cock and laughs when I whimper and struggle. “Be still my pet human. I’m not done with you yet.”
Ooooh!
