The Game (A Dark Romance)

It was at that moment Hail realized she had no contingency for what happened next. Her master was on her in an instant, flipping her onto her stomach and tearing her breeches from her hips.

“Bryn!”

She shouted his name helplessly as he tore her modesty from her. She was not worried about the pain of his lash. She was worried that he was seeing the womanly parts of her.

“This is improper!”

“Trying to get yourself killed because you’re lacking attention, then taunting me with illicit magic is improper, Hail,” he lectured, pinning her in place, one big hand on the back of her neck, the other settling her britches snugly below the cheeks of her rear.

This was such a juvenile position, but there was nothing juvenile about the way he made her feel. He was so close she could practically taste his scent, his musk making an impression on her tongue as his palm started making a rough and thorough impression on her cheeks.

Hot pain shot through her skin every time his palm landed. She wanted to be stoic, but she could not withstand the drama of the moment. If it had only been a whacking of flesh on flesh, she would have easily resisted him. But she wasn’t only being made to feel sore. She was being made to feel ashamed. As the spanking went on, Bryn still preferring the intimacy of his palm over the small distance of the rod, she felt tears leaking down her face.

Hail cried not from pain, but from humiliation. She cried because the way Bryn treated her showed her that he did not understand how she felt about anything, least of all him. He still thought of her as a whelp to be raised and controlled and looked after, not a woman with her own desires, needs, and maybe even allure.

The spark of attraction which settled low in her belly continued to flower, even through the tearful embarrassment of being spanked by the man she wanted so badly to impress. No matter what she did, Bryn always saw her as a brat whelp in need of a warm rump.

Squirming against the covers, she felt the bud between her lower lips occasionally making light contact with the bed. It was just enough to drive her crazy, not nearly enough to satisfy her in any way.

“You are going to stay in the den for the next month,” Bryn growled. “You will not leave it for any reason. And if I catch you working magic again, there will be consequences far beyond this. You are on your very last chance, lass.”

His heavy palm spanked the warning into her cheeks until she was so hot and so sore she was absolutely sure she was going to catch on fire. Then her body started to produce a liquid reaction, desire seeping from between her thighs. She was glad for the position of her breeches below her cheeks. She hoped they hid the shameful flow which came not from the punishment, but from her reaction to Bryn himself.

He had been avoiding her lately, and this was why. There was something between them, something that felt like magic but was entirely natural. A kind of alchemy of the flesh that meant being in close proximity to one another made her blood flow in new ways.

This pain should have made her wail and cry and weep for mercy. Instead, it made her stretch out almost languidly, offering her hindquarters to her master with a feminine arch.

His hand slowed. His palm curled around her cheeks. His fingers lingered on the inside of that curve in a way that made her feel hopeful for one beautiful moment. Then it lifted and returned in a hard slap.

“Don’t you try that, lass.”

“Try what?” She looked over her shoulder. She could see herself reflected in a shard of mirror over on one of her crates. Her rear was so round and so red. She had never spent much time looking at her body before. Now was a striking time to do it, even more so thanks to Bryn’s big hand meeting her skin over and over again. She saw her cheeks quiver every time his scarred fingers slapped her. Watching herself be punished was enough to make her sex flow all the more. She was getting so aroused that the spanking really didn’t hurt anymore. It was just sensation building on sensation. The hotter her ass got, the hotter she felt all the way through her body, especially low in her belly where she was tight and tense.

He growled and her eyes met his by accident. He was transformed in some way. She didn’t know how, but there was an intensity to his firebrown gaze which hadn’t been there before. His eyes looked like she felt inside. Longing. Desperate.