Page 75 of A Brat's Tale
As I do, he pushes an egg-shaped something, coated with lube, intomy arse. He comes ‘round to the front of me and watches. Eventually, the egg vibrates, and I only just remember to school my reaction before all my muscles contract at the sensation. I’ll never have zero response, but my wince is minute enough not to earn correction, and my heavy breathing is acceptable.
He brandishes a long whip. “I want your pain today Tristan, and you will give it to me. Do well and you can have the orgasm you long for tonight.”
When he dangles that carrot, I know I’m in for something. I feel the pulse from the toy against my prostate, which he controls via his magic and I have to fucking bite my lip to keep from responding. He enjoys my suffering.
“And Tristan? It will please me greatly should you succeed today.”
Fucker.He’s got my number.
It’s a long session indeed, and he’s relentless. The toy pulses without rhythm so I can never get used to a pattern. He lashes so that I have the buzz of pleasure and sting of pain rushing through me at the same time. They are opposite things to deal with, I have to exhale with the whip and inhale with the egg—an exhausting balancing act—all the whilenotcoming.
“Yes. That’s it, naughty kitten, c’mon. You’re okay.”
Tears sting my eyes when the whip lands against my flesh leaving behind hot pain. Bliss radiates through as the sensations hit my prostate, but I keep my responses minimal. I want to cry out, to beg, I ache to moan, I miss screaming, but I want him to be proud of me. Keeping that in mind drives away all other thoughts—of Corrik, of studying to become Elf, of another marriage—and narrows my focus to Strobavik’s whip and toy.
It’s freeing.
The world blurs. The whip slices my skin raising a wake of welts and my body reels when the egg vibrates against my prostate. But all I want to do is give to him, give him me. The exchange of energy is tactile, seeping into my skin like hot rain. I struggle, arching my back until my spine is inside out but that sensation of giving never wanes.
“That’s it, kitten. I want just a little more.”
His hand moves to my hair, his fingers run through the sweat-soaked strands and my muscles relax. Until the egg vibrates again. I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out. I have to twist in my bonds, muting moans to breathy murmurs. I want to come, I want to come, I want to come and yet, I want to please him more.
Somehow, I don’t come. “Your endurance has improved,” he says unhooking me and carrying me over to the bed.
I’m spent; can barely move. “That’s not going to buy me anything good, Master Strobavik,” I grouse. He’ll only push me harder.
“Ah. You’re learning I see.”
He takes care when removing my shorts and harness. I have stripe marks everywhere and I relish in being marked again, it brings me comfort. I miss Baya. Without thinking, I reach for the magical, Elven healing salve in the drawer. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“The salve, Master Strobavik.”
He tilts his head. “You don’t want these healed away?”
I squint at him and then burst into tears. He slides in behind me. I think I must drive the hardened dungeon master to distraction with how often he’s had to be soft with me. Though I suppose he neverhasto do anything, but for whatever reason he does. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Do I not rate keeping these? Have I not earned them?”
“I see. You understand the marking culture of Elves.”
It’s not a question, but I nod anyway. I didn’t get the chance to earn many marks from Corrik … What if I never get the chance?
“You may keep them if you wish, but I’m not your mate and so you are not obligated.”
“But I rather hoped I meantsomethingto you, sir.” Maybe that’s very Markaytian of me but it’s what is. I cling to him and cry.
He pulls me close and runs fingers through my hair. He doesn’t answer for a long time. “You have come to mean a great deal to me, naughty kitten—I fear you have. Stop crying now. You may keep the marks, but no complaining tomorrow when you don’t like how they feel underneath what I’ll add overtop.”
“I won’t.” Except I probably will. I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t.
“You’ll be pleased to know you’ve earned an orgasm. Well done. But it’s only one and there are parameters.”
“Oh?” He’s blurry through my watery vision. I sniffle.
“You’re to sit in that chair naked and after dinner. Not before,after. You have an hour to complete the task, if you don’t come in that time your chance to come passes.”
I should have known there would be some parameters. “Won’t be a problem, sir.”
