Page 74 of A Brat's Tale
When he’s done with me, he carries me to the bed and lies beside me. “Was I good?”
“Tristan,” he sighs.
Oh right. “Master Strobavik.”
“You did very well,” he says, running a hand through my long black hair, his vivid blue eyes study me.
I smile. “This mean I get to come, Master Strobavik?”
“It would, but what you did initially forbids me from giving you such privileges.”
I groan, but then I curl my lip. “I am good at it though.”
He frowns at my cocky behavior but even he can’t stay mad. “I will say, you are excellent at sucking cock—at least your chatty mouth is good for something.”
Whatever.I don’t even hide my smugness. “Master Strobavik, may I?” I reach out to him. I don’t know what other brats, subs, slaves need after all that, but I need to snuggle.
He wants to say no, I can tell, but he can’t. “C’mere, Tristan.”
I wrap around him still lightweight from all the stimulation. My cock remains hard and leaking. Poor thing.
We lay together, and he runs his hand through my hair until I fall asleep. When I wake up a short time later, he’s packing up. I’m harness and shorts free, which means I can be a little more casual with him.
Of course, there’s no such thing as fully casual with your dungeon Master. The energy that builds between you both always maintains an edge of power exchange.
“How are you, Tristan?”
“Good, sir. Well except for this,” I say, motioning to my hard-on from the seventh level of hell.
He smiles a smirky smile. “Behave tomorrow. Unfortunately for you, you’ve given away just how good a submissive you can be.”
Dammit.
“I will expect more from you. Do what you did today without attempting to Top from the bottom, and you might make a good companion for the prince yet.”
When he leaves, I have some time to sleep before the tutors come. My body aches in places I didn’t know existed but it’s the good kind of aching, like when I’ve been fighting in the fields all day. I look to the side where Corrik sleeps and miss him in the purest way I’ve ever missed him. I know he’s an Elf, and it’s harder for Elves to get cold than us humans, but I think of him cold and hurt somewhere and how much I want him warm beside me.
Is he scared?
I’m not sure the large war Elf can be scared of anything but I am. I’m scared I’ll never see him again and for the first time I consider the possibility that this marriage to Alrik may happen.
When Strobavik arrives the next day, he has a spreader bar, cuffs and a good length of chain. He raises his brows. “You have only yourself to thank for this. Originally I was going to wait until a few more sessions in.”
Being suspended by chains is not new for me. I raise my arms overhead. “Challenge accepted, Master Strobavik.” I’m already in my harness and shorts, kneeling for him on my pillow.
He rolls his eyes at me. “Only you could achieve cheeky while being perfectly obedient,” he says attaching the cuffs.
My brows turn down. “Have I lost coming privileges already?”
“No, but speak out of turn like that again and you will.”
Coming has become a need over a want, though I very much want. Today I’m grateful for cock rings and welcome chastity if I’m going to spend this much time with blue balls.
Strobavik uses magic to hang the chains from the ceiling beam and when my arms are fully extended, he attaches the spreader bar to my ankles. The bar holds my feet apart as wide as they’ll go and when my shorts are pulled down, I’m horribly exposed.
And just as turned on.
“Bear down,” he says.
