Page 31 of My Princeling Brat (Tales from the Tarot #2)

He laughed and I grinned along with him.

Satisfied that he was well enough, physically and emotionally, to endure his punishment, I dressed him in loose cotton pants and escorted him back to my bedchamber.

Our guards were ever present but kept their distance.

The walls of my fortress were thick and my security knew not to disturb me, despite what sounds might emanate from these chambers.

Sometimes finding catharsis could be a loud endeavor.

I showed Cedrych the hidden door, a swinging bookshelf, that led to my sex dungeon directly underneath my suite of rooms. The hinges on the door were vanadium and would only release under my sorcery.

“This was here the whole time,” he marveled as we walked down the curving flight of stairs.

His eyes slowly swept the large, open room, lit by wall sconces to give the space a soft, warm glow.

My eyes were sharp enough to see in dim lighting and I preferred it.

The exposed rafters made it convenient to anchor my equipment.

One wall had been converted to a handsome wooden bookcase that displayed my toys and implements.

Another wall was mounted with metal chains, cuffs, and spreader bars.

There were also stations set up for various erotic tortures.

Most everything I’d tried first on myself before using it on a submissive.

It had become a passion project of mine after my parents passed and I was left to my own devices.

I’d paid professionals to train me and only played with experienced subs, which Cedrych was not, something I must keep ever-present in my mind.

I tried to picture my surroundings from his point of view. It could be intimidating, especially for someone who’d not yet discovered their particular pleasures or limits.

“What do you think?” I asked.

“Your collection is quite… comprehensive,” he said on a breathy exhale.

I smirked. What could I say? I liked to experiment. “It can be tailored to your likes, or in the case of punishment, dislikes. I won’t ever do something you’ve not consented to.”

“That’s good.” He rubbed his hands together. Nervous, despite my attempts to reassure him.

“Do you have any questions before we begin?”

“I’m not sure. Ask me again in an hour or two. Is that how long it will take?”

“That’s entirely up to you,” I said.

“So cryptic, my lord. Will you spank me?” He smoothed one hand over a bench meant for that and other things. Instinct told me the prince would enjoy being spanked a little too much for it to be considered a true punishment.

“I’m not going to spank you, Cedrych, but I am going to flog you.

” I’d decided that morning while the prince still slumbered in my arms. Something sturdy that would leave a lingering ache as a reminder of his disobedience.

It would be uncomfortable to sit for a few days, a rather light punishment for endangering his life.

I selected my instrument, a rawhide whip with nine falls, each one knotted in three places for more impact. “Have you seen one of these before?” I asked, presenting it to him.

“No, sir.”

“It’s called a cat o’ nine tails. Humans used it on their naval ships to keep the men and boys in line.

The original implement was rather simple, a rope that had been unraveled.

They’d lash the offender to the rigging and use this whip to strip the flesh from their backs.

Sometimes they’d put salt in the wounds to make it even more painful. ”

“Sounds terrible,” he said, looking queasy.

“I won’t be that harsh. I won’t even break the skin if I can help it, but it will be painful, and the ache will last for days after.”

“Days?” he said.

I drew the falls through my hand, slowly, methodically, getting into the zone. “You deserve this punishment, Cedrych. You completely disregarded my security protocol, and you put yourself in danger. And it was not your first offense.”

“What will you do if I break protocol again?” he asked.

“Something worse,” I assured him. I placed the flogger in his hands. “Touch it, become acquainted.” He dragged the falls along the muscle of his forearm and I took a deep breath, feeling the first stirrings of arousal.

“Why don’t you test it against your skin?” I suggested. He slapped his arm lightly. “That’s it. Now, harder,” I encouraged.

He gave himself a good, hard thwack, and I imagined sometime in the future, stripping him naked and making him punish himself while I watched. The prince would require a firm hand, no doubt. He swallowed and stared hypnotically at the red marks left behind.

“What do you think?” I asked.

“How many will you give me?” he said.

“How many do you think you deserve?”

“I don’t know. Probably a lot.”

I smiled at that. “How about I whip you until I think you’re sorry?”

“Who says I’m not?” he asked with a princely defiance that made his submission all the more rewarding.

“You said you were sorry you scared me, and I believe you. But I don’t think you’re sorry for going after the assassin.”

“I’m also not sorry for saving your life,” he said brashly, digging his own grave.

“Anything else you’d like to confess?”

Seeming to realize his misstep, he said, quite contritely, “No, sir.”

“You may halt me at any time,” I said to remind him that he still had the power, even while being punished.

“I understand,” he said bravely and handed me the whip.

“Undress please,” I said, then waited while he tugged down his pants and kicked them aside. “Fold your trousers nicely and set them on the chair over there,” I instructed. The brat was probably used to servants cleaning up after him.

He huffed and did as he was told, making my palm itch around the leather grip where I held it.

“Now lift your arms,” I commanded and quickly spelled two chains to connect the metal bands around his wrists to my rigging.

I tugged on the chain to raise his arms high enough that they wouldn’t get in my way.

Also a good reminder that he was at my mercy.

“You may cry,” I said, dragging the rawhide falls over his grooved abdomen and lower, along the artfully carved lines of his groin, the vein that flowed like a river from his lower abdomen to the head of his amply sized cock. Goddess, he was stunning.

“Not likely,” he said with a scowl, and it took effort to keep my expression neutral.

“Punishment is about repenting for your misbehavior, but ultimately it is to bring us closer together. I’m disciplining you because I care.

” I dragged the whip over the curve of his buttocks where his skin was soft and pale.

“Can you keep these tucked?” I asked, regarding his brilliant green wings which were tightly folded but buzzing with anticipation.

“Yes, sir.”

“Very good. I’m not doing this out of anger, and while I may find it arousing, that’s not its purpose. I want you to trust me, even as I’m hurting you.”

“Do you hurt a lot of people?”

“Only if they ask for it”

“Not as punishment?” he asked.

“I don’t typically punish my bedmates, Cedrych. To punish a submissive speaks to a longer-term investment.”

“I see,” he said as his cheeks flushed a lovely pink.

“Remember when you stole my vanadium rod?” I asked. The memory always invited a warm sort of nostalgia.

He swallowed. “Yes.”

“That spanking was spontaneous but also very satisfying to me. When you cried…” I shook my head, wistful at the memory. “It awakened something in me.”

“In me too, my lord,” he said, voice dropping an octave.

“I’ve thought a lot about this punishment, Cedrych. You are willful and stubborn, and you must learn to obey me. In matters of safety, it’s non-negotiable. Do you understand?”

He shivered and dropped his head, sinking into a more receptive state. “Yes, sir.”

“Now, be still while I look you over.” I dragged a hand over his strong shoulder, mapping his broad back and buttocks while avoiding his tucked wings. I’d build up a nice burn, then flog his ass until his whole backside was tender, so that even the softest stroke became intolerable.

“You may tell me to slow down if you need a break. Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then let’s begin.”

I warmed him up with light lashings that had him bucking and stomping on the stone floor like a frustrated horse.

The first real strike had him hissing through his teeth.

The second made him go up on his toes. The next several he bore with stiff obstinance, as if attempting to make an unfeeling wall of himself, but eventually the flesh gave way. It always did.

“How are you doing?” I asked during a pause where I made him drink water mixed with honey.

“I can barely feel it,” he said, surely bluffing.

“Your skin says otherwise.” I stood back and admired my work. His shoulders and back were red, and an even brighter scarlet colored his normally pale buttocks. Faint marks from the falls were interspersed throughout like a hatchwork drawing.

“Ready to go again?” I asked.

“Yes, sir,” he said sullenly.

I unleashed him from the ceiling and led him toward the bench where I bent him over and anchored the chains to the floor so he was lying on his stomach with his ass bared to the whip. “Spread your legs wider,” I said, nudging at his ankles and forcing him to expose his genitals to me.

“Are you going to whip me there?” he asked.

“Unless you tell me not to,” I said.

He grunted. “Do your worst.”

“Still not sorry then?” I prompted, and his stony silence spoke volumes.

“Grip the edge of the bench and stay in position,” I told him.

Soon after, I descended upon him, raining down on the taut meat of his buttocks with endless blows, turning his entire backside a bright cherry red.

The whip didn’t cut his skin, but the repetition made the pain worse than if it had.

He’d be black and blue for days. At last, he wailed, and once he got going, it seemed he couldn’t stop.

I walked over to his front and gripped him up by his hair.

“Are you sorry now?” I asked, forcing him to look at me.

“No, sir,” he bit out, each word a battle. His face was red and tears were only just forming at the corners of his eyes. Wet lashes, stormy eyes, he was a breathtaking sight. The anger would transform into something else very soon.

“Very well. Then let’s continue.”

I returned to his backside and flogged his thick upper thighs, aiming the flogger to bite at his balls every few strikes.

The prince twisted and writhed on the bench, his skin slick with sweat and shiny all over.

His wails had turned to moans until at last he broke into a quiet sob.

I softened the blows until I was merely dragging the falls across his skin in a sweet caress.

I undid the chains and gathered him up in my arms, careful not to apply pressure on his tenderest places.

“Are you sorry?” I asked. He nodded, his mouth a beautiful pout, and stared up at me with wide glistening eyes. “What are you sorry for, Cedrych?”

“Going after the assassin,” he said, imploring me to believe him.

“Why is it important that you follow my security protocol?”

“To… to stay safe,” he said.

“And why is it important that you stay safe?”

“Because I’m royalty and your betrothed.”

“And I’d be irreparably heartbroken if something bad happened to you. Do you understand now, Cedrych?”

He nodded again, contritely, with tears staining his cheeks. Impulsively I licked them, collecting the salty sweetness with my tongue.

“Will you bite me, my lord?”

“You’re already in pain,” I told him.

“I don’t care. I want to feel you in my blood. I want to be yours, in every way, Mercier. Please?”

It was difficult to deny him, especially when I wanted the closeness too.

“Hold onto me tightly,” I said. He grappled me in a strong hug and I was reminded of just yesterday when he’d saved my life.

In my anger and disappointment, I still hadn’t thanked him for his heroism, though I surely would when the time was right.

I didn’t want my gratitude to muddle this very important lesson.

“Deep breath,” I said as I inhaled his bouquet of pheromones and sweat, the insistent press of his cock against my own. My canines dropped and I sunk them into his neck, tasting that sweet ambrosia.

“My lord,” he said in a symphony of want and desire. His hips ground against mine and he came with a sudden gasp, striping my pants with his pearly seed. “Oh, gods,” he murmured, hiding his face from me.

“Was it the bite or the flogging?” I asked, licking his puncture wounds clean while admiring my work.

“It was both.”

“Pleasure and pain are sometimes intertwined,” I told him and wondered if there might not be a streak of masochism in him.

“I’m sorry for disobeying you,” he said again, big blue eyes peering at me with sincerity.

“Thank you for the apology, Cedrych. I forgive you.”

I kissed his temple, then his mouth, tasting his tears and his remorse. So sweet, so true.

The fae prince would be my undoing.