Page 30 of A Brat's Tale
Something big’s going to happen, my gut reminds me.
Without warning, he lifts me over his shoulder, bow and all, giving a hefty swat to my arse. “I don’t deny it,” he says, as I complain for him to put me down; all my demands go ignored. “We’ll be occupied for some time Deglan. I’ll need you to finish up here.”
“I can do that.” I can’t see her, but I feel her smirking at me. “Good luck to you Tristan.”
“You never liked me!” I shout.
I can’t see her but her tinkling laugh imprints into my memory.
I have to suffer the embarrassment of being carried across the grounds. “Do you intend on carrying me the whole way?”
“Yes.”
“I hate you, for the record.”
“Noted.”
We travel through the palace, no one paying too much mind to us, except for a couple of guards who love to see me in such predicaments. “What did you do now, Tristan?” one of them says to me, his fine Elvish reminding me how much I still need to work on my accent.
“Wait till I’m upright again,” I curse at them.
“Tristan,” Bayaden warns.
I can get away with some of my banter with Bayaden because we have a special relationship, but it’s not how I’m supposed to treat Elves. I settle down, having learned about creating trouble I can’t handle. Bayaden is as obligated to the rules as I am. “Sorry, but they’re the worst,” I say as Baya continues to cart me off.
“They are.”
We don’t head to his chambers like I expect; instead we go tothe room. I should have known with the way he was looking at me on the field.
It was a couple of months into my “enslavement,” just after I promised myself to Bayaden forever, in exchange for them releasing Diekin that Bayaden went all territorial and brought me to this very room, chained me up and strapped me for the first time.
It feels like forever ago.
We’ve been back many times since for a variety of reasons, punishment being at the top of that list. I’m not a well-behaved pet.
But I know I haven’t done anything to earn a punishment, not recently anyway. We’re here for another reason.
He sets me to my feet and because there’s no one here today, I can let him have it. “Carry me like that again Bayaden, and I’ll gut you in your sleep.”
Bayaden snickers. “You wouldn’t. Who would you have to spank your naughty bum?”
No one is here, but I flush anyway. I don’t, however, deny I need him to do that. I understand something fundamental about myself—I am a brat. Brats need handling in a different way than a submissive does and Bayaden seems to know just how. He lets me run and then reels me in with a sound spanking. He’s strict but relenting at the same time.
What would’ve happened between Corrik and I?
He wanted a submissive husband. And it’s not that brats are not submissive, we are, but it’s in a different way than someone who weighs more heavily toward the submissive end of the spectrum.
Bayaden is no less strict, but there’s a give there; I need that bit of freedom.
I don’t mean to smile in return, but I do. “What are you going to do with me?”
His dark eyes sparkle. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Undress.”
The room has areas, and each area has a variety of equipment. The area Bayaden’s chosen for us has a high bench with tall posts in each corner—like a four-poster bed but a bench in the middle. As I undress, Bayaden pulls out rope and my cock is hard at the prospect of what he might do, even though it’s likely to be a very long time before he gets any kind of release. “Lie back on the bench,” he says.
“Yes, sir.” There is still a bit of protocol when we do these things, like with spanking, but it’s not as formal. Bayaden just isn’t the formal sort of person and it comes through in everything he does.
The only exception being when he’s on the field. He takes that seriously. If he doesn’t Elves can die.
