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Then he sat down on the throne and quite literally tossed me over his knee. I gasped, struggling against his grip, but it was useless. He was much stronger than I was, and his grip was like iron, unyielding.
What was he doing?
“Let me go!” I screeched, refusing to beg.
“The sooner you realize that your fate is no longer up to you, the easier this will be for you,” he countered, and I shrieked, fighting against him, but his hold was firm, and I didn’t move an inch. I could feel the roughness of his pants against the bare flesh of my stomach and thighs. His hand roamed over my body, his touch sending chills straight down into the very marrow of my bones.
I had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, and my palms slickened with nervous sweat.
“These marks on your back. Who did this to you?” he asked quietly, a touch of gentleness apparent in his tone, and I stiffened. I didn’t trust this man with my past. I wasn’t going to tell him anything, not now, not ever.
“None of your fucking business,” I countered.
“You will tell me, little thief, but we’ll deal with your punishment first,” he said softly, the warning clear in his voice.
“Punishment?” I asked quickly.
Then his hand grazed against my bare backside, and I realized several things at once. The first was that I was about to get spanked. I knew what it meant when a man put a woman over his knee. I was about to be punished in a way I had a feeling that I really wasn’t going to like.
The second thing that became quite clear in that moment was that I wasn’t in control. No matter how hard I fought, I wouldn’t be able to get free and this evil being would be able to do whatever he wanted with me, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
The third was that I was undoubtedly and unequivocally aroused.
I didn’t know what was worse: the thought of being disciplined like a naughty little girl or the thought that the Dark King would soon find out how wet his touch was making me.
I gulped, wishing that my traitorous body would suddenly start to behave, but as the seconds ticked by, I grew warmer and wetter still.
I pressed my thighs together, desperate to hide what felt like the inevitable.
“Stop! You can’t do this!” I shrieked, but he didn’t listen.
Instead, his hand came down on my bare ass, hard. The crack of his palm against my flesh echoed throughout the room, and I yelped in surprise.
“You can’t spank me! I’m not a child!” I exclaimed.
The Dark King chuckled, his hand moving lower. He cupped my ass, squeezing the sensitive skin between his fingers. His claws grazed my flesh, sharp as the tips scraped along my bare cheek. My whole body stiffened, fiery tendrils of pleasure racing straight to my core and I almost sighed with enjoyment. Clamping my lips shut, I stifled the sound.
I couldn’t let him know how much he was getting to me.
“No, you are not a child. But not only did you steal from me, you slapped me and spit in my face. Now I’m going to punish you as I see fit and you’re going to take everything I give you whether you like it or not,” he snarled.
He slapped my bare ass again, harder this time and I renewed my struggles to escape, but nothing I did seemed to do a damn thing. I kicked my legs, but then I realized that might display my most private of places to him and I pressed my legs together again.
He couldn’t know this was turning me on. No way in hell, which in retrospect was probably a bad comparison because I was quite literally in hell with the devil himself.
The Dark King was a figure of nightmares. Stories about him had filtered down even to the slums of Sungard, whispered in the dead of night to frighten disobedient children and to warn those who dared to dream of rebellion.
His cruelty was legendary. It was said that he took pleasure in the suffering of others, that he would torment souls for eternity just to hear their screams. One rumor spoke of how he had incinerated an entire village with a single breath of his dragon form, leaving nothing but ashes and echoes of agony. Anothertale told of his throne, forged from the bones of those who had dared to defy him, their spirits forever trapped within the cold, dark stone.
Some claimed he could steal the soul of a person with just a glance, binding them to his will, and eventually they would lose their minds in an endless abyss of despair. Others whispered of his ability to manipulate the shadows all around him, turning them into instruments of torture that could flay the skin from a person’s body, piece by agonizing piece.
I didn’t know what was true or what was false, but my fear was that every single one of those rumors was true and I’d somehow had the misfortune to run straight into his path and now I was never going to be able to get out.
His hand slapped my bare bottom several times, the sound echoing like cannon fire throughout the room, and I squirmed over his knee. His fingers gripped my hip like a vise, holding me in place despite the fact that I was fighting him at every turn.
Each smack stung and I hated the feeling. I hated him.
His palm came down hard, striking my ass again, and again, and again, until the burning pain spread over my backside. I gritted my teeth, refusing to cry out. Soon enough, my entire bottom was on fire and with every subsequent slap, it just burned hotter.
