Page 17 of My Princeling Brat (Tales from the Tarot #2)

Prince Cedrych

Vasil didn’t sleep on the divan. I took one look at the tiny sofa and told him he’d been ridiculous to offer. “The bed is big enough for us both,” I said and surprisingly, he didn’t argue.

We fell asleep on separate sides of the bed but by morning, I’d managed to entangle myself with him, my cheek pressed against his bare chest, my thigh flung carelessly over his waist. After a moment of awkwardness, realizing I’d been grinding my morning wood against his hip, I rolled away and visited the toilet, imagining my mother scolding my impropriety in order to dampen my arousal.

The lord only looked on with faint amusement, the bastard.

We were now sitting across from each other in his study, having had breakfast already, him at his desk in his opulent leather chair, me on the chaise.

Normally I slouched, at ease, but currently I was perched on the edge with a straight back and square shoulders, at attention.

I’d forgone my usual training with the guard to review Vasil’s very detailed contract regarding our “sexual exploration.” He’d made it sound as if we were striking out into new territory, which I supposed we were.

Like his security protocol, the list was extensive, but at no point was I bored.

Aroused, yes. Nervous? More than a little.

The buffet of offerings seemed endless, not to mention the many words or phrases I’d needed defined.

Vasil, to his credit, gave me straightforward explanations without any mirth.

The humiliation would have to wait until I consented to it.

Now, the lord was looking over my portion of it, all the things I’d marked as something I’d like to try or investigate further.

“There is not much you’re averse to,” he commented mildly, causing the heat in my chest to bloom and spread outward. Tendrils of arousal teased my cock to stiffness.

“I’m curious,” was all that I offered in return.

“Chastity is a particular interest of mine, as is bondage,” he said without looking up from the sheaf of papers.

“I gathered from your rather detailed descriptions last night.” The little scenario was now branded on my psyche.

“But it’s not a requirement.” He glanced up at me, wanting to make sure I understood. “Nothing in this contract is a requirement, Cedrych.”

“I don’t feel pressured,” I assured him.

“Good. And any of these things you’ve marked as possibilities can easily turn into hard limits if you say so.”

“Are you negotiating against yourself?” I asked, amused by his sudden restraint. Where was the man who’d taunted me last night with certain torture if I decided to stay?

“My aim is to unearth your desires, in addition to my own, and see where there is true alignment. Not to coerce you.”

“I am not so easily swayed, my lord. And, while I don’t have much experience in this dynamic…” The word and its connotation was still somewhat abstract to me, though I was comforted by the rules and structure of it all. “I’d prefer to try something first, rather than reject it outright.”

“By agreeing to this, you are consenting to be my sexual submissive,” he said, still peering over the papers to scrutinize me. Did he need to point it out, or was that part of the negotiation, too?

“Yes, I know,” I responded.

“I want you to say it,” he said and the steel in his voice sent a sharp thrill through me.

“I consent to being your sexual submissive.” I tried to hide the tremor in my voice and the sudden tightness in my trousers.

“I agree to be your Dominant and honor your consent. This dynamic doesn’t need to extend into our domestic dealings, and even during a scene, we can step out of it at any time.”

“I understand.”

“We’re going to talk about what we do, extensively,” he emphasized.

My heart rate spiked. Damn him for poking at all the places that were most sensitive. “Is that really necessary?” I asked.

“Yes, we must have regular check-ins about what we like or don’t like. It’s a process that is continually refined and ever-evolving to suit us both. And it is to prevent either of us from feeling overwhelmed.”

“Me, you mean?” Hadn’t I panicked just yesterday?

“I have moments of self-doubt too.”

“Then you hide it better than me.”

“I was worried last night, when I thought you might be leaving.”

I lowered my head in shame because it was a cowardly way to go, without even a word or note of goodbye, not befitting a prince or a man of honor. “It was not my best moment,” I admitted.

“I have some issues with… abandonment,” Vasil said, giving me a rare glimpse of his pain and trauma. He closed his eyes briefly, then continued, “Will you do that again, Cedrych? Sneak off into the night?” His normally smoldering eyes had gone soft and winsome.

“No, my lord, I won’t. I swear it on my honor.” I placed one hand over my heart.

“Good, because I would be very cross with you. It would hurt me deeply.”

“My sincerest apologies, my lord.”

He nodded and seemed satisfied. “I will also be your Dominant during punishments. And you are due one now, so come over here and select your implement.”

“You’re going to do it here?” I glanced around his study, the place of so many civil conversations and academic debates. All the books on the shelves and those miniature soldiers on the table. The portrait of his mother and father on the wall, silently watching…

Vasil followed my gaze with curiosity. “The walls are thick, and we will not be disturbed, but we can go somewhere else if you’d prefer it,” he said.

Where would we go? Sound carried in his fortress, even in our bedrooms with guards posted right outside the doors.

“Here is fine, as good as any place, I suppose. Could you at least lock the door?”

Vasil made a twisting motion with one hand and from behind me came the thunk of a metal deadbolt engaging.

“Now choose,” he said and waved at an urn that I thought was purely decorative, but I now noticed held an array of sturdy switches.

I surveyed a few of them, running my hands along their lengths and slapping them lightly against my palm to test their weight and heft.

“All of them will hurt,” Vasil said as if to assure me.

“Are you enjoying this?” I asked him, for the amused smile had not left his face.

“Immensely.”

At least one of us would.

“This one,” I said and handed him a dark wooden cane, the surface of it natural and a little bit rough in places.

“Red birch,” he said. “I picked this one up while visiting Emrallt Valley, from the creek that runs along Crystal Castle.”

“Turtle Run. My father used to take me there to fish. I more often caught frogs and lizards to study and draw later.”

“And now you will feel the sting of it on your bare ass. How fitting.” Vasil hit the surface of his desk with a loud thwack that startled me.

“Pull down your pants, Cedrych, your underclothes too. I want them down around your ankles. And bend over my desk here. Hold onto the edge to maintain your balance. Your knees may give out.”

Fear warred with anticipation as I followed his instructions.

Baring my ass to him was a humiliation all its own, which only served to enlarge my cock.

There was definitely something wrong with me.

Fortunately, Vasil had a complementary affliction.

My knuckles paled against the polished wood where I gripped the hard edge.

My ass cheeks were cold and my sac drawn up tight.

I didn’t enjoy having my genitals hanging out there so defenseless, and I certainly hoped his aim was good.

Vasil laid a warm hand on my backside with surprising affection.

If this was punishment, then why did he do it with such care?

“Why are you being punished?” Vasil asked.

“For trying to leave you.”

“No, for breaking my security protocol and not telling anyone where you were going. For endangering yourself needlessly. Why is that wrong?”

“You don’t want me to get hurt?”

“That’s right, because you are important to me, Cedrych.”

I swallowed, not caring to analyze the soft sentiments he stirred up, especially not when he was about to cane my ass. Instead, I closed my eyes and braced myself.

“It’s better if you breathe through it. I’ll give you ten stripes. You have your word if it becomes too much. Count them out,” Vasil instructed.

The atmosphere was charged with electricity, and I sensed a shift in the air as he drew back his implement.

The switch came down hard and fast against the meaty part of my buttocks.

The pain came a second later, a sting that made my sinuses burn and my eyes water.

Even with his warning, it was as surprising as a slap across the face.

I grunted and shifted my stance as if that might ease the next blow.

“One,” I said, an afterthought.

“You can expect all of them to have roughly the same intensity. I’ll try not to hit you in the exact same place twice,” he said.

Was he trying to be kind? Because if so, he certainly did not need to land every blow with such force.

It was my first offense, after all. Any rebuttal I might have had died in my throat on the next strike, replaced by the immediacy of pain.

Sharp. Biting. As unrelenting as the man himself.

I gritted my teeth and counted out the blows.

My grunts turned to whines and then whimpers, and then I was swallowing compulsively so as not to cry.

When was the last time I cried? Not when my ex left me. Not even when my father passed.

Vasil was a demon with that damn cane. Red birch?

Never again. He’d warned me it would hurt and Goddess above, he was right.

My skin pearled with sweat as if in the throes of a fever spike during the last few hits, my whole body shaking, every nerve alert.

He must have covered my entire ass and upper thighs with welts, until at last I shouted with exaltation, “Ten.”