Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

H elheim

Aria

The Dark King.

I gulped, terrified, even though I tried to remain strong.

This was madness. This had to be a dream. Maybe I was losing my mind, or I was hallucinating because I was so hungry, but something was wrong. This couldn't be happening, shouldn't be happening.

I just had to calm down. Then I could get my head on straight and think my way out of this mess or wake up, whatever I needed to do to figure my shit out.

I looked around the throne room, my eyes widening as I took it all in. The whole place had a malevolent feel to it. The walls were made of cold black stone, towering high and covered with sinister-looking runes etched in a glowing blood-red color. The twisted designs seemed to pulse with an evil sort of magic, and my heart pounded even harder.

Magic was things the nobles dabbled in, not the poor folk like me. I'd never really been around it before.

It was unsettling to say the least.

Dominating the center of the chamber was the Dark King's throne. Chiseled from sharp, glistening obsidian, it loomed tall and imposing, its dark surface catching the light from the flames that flickered along the walls and around the base, but I quickly turned my gaze away back to him as he stepped toward me. I had more pressing matters to worry about than the king's throne room and the evil magic it contained.

"I am your king," he growled, the sound like a rolling bout of thunder in the middle of a hurricane.

I shivered, fear gnawing at my insides, but I clenched my fists, refusing to let it show. I would not give him the satisfaction of seeing me break. I would not bow to this evil king's demands no matter what.

I would be strong.

"Why have you brought me here?" I demanded, my voice trembling but firm.

The Dark King regarded me with those piercing violet eyes. He was tall, his presence overwhelming, and his gaze seemed to strip me of all my defenses, but I remained strong and fisted my hands at my sides.

I couldn't let him get to me. I wouldn't.

"You are brave, I'll give you that. But bravery alone won't save you."

I felt a surge of anger, my fear momentarily forgotten. "I'd rather die fighting against you than live as your prisoner."

He reached out, his hand brushing against my cheek, and I flinched at the coldness of his touch. Recoiling, I took a step back, glaring at him as I did so.

"We'll see about that," he murmured, his voice a chilling whisper. "Your spirit may be strong, but even the strongest can be broken."

I stared at him, my heart pounding in my chest. I would fight with every ounce of strength I had, no matter the cost.

"You will not break me," I spat and then he reached down, gripped the back of my neck, and hauled me to my feet. He dragged me to him, and his violet eyes glowed in the dim light, his smile turning into something much darker. My breath caught in my throat.

Oh, gods. What was he going to do next?

I didn't have time to consider it as his grip tightened, his fingers digging into the delicate skin of my throat. He pulled me toward him until our faces were inches apart.

"You're a foolish girl, little thief," he snarled, his voice dripping with venom, "but you'll learn to obey me in time."

I moved to slap him again, but his other hand reached out and caught my wrist in his grasp. I tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong, and I gritted my teeth.

"I will not heed your command, you beast," I said, my voice barely a whisper as his hand tightened around my throat.

"You will refer to me properly, little thief, or you won't speak at all," he growled.

I didn't think about what I did next. I just did it.

I spat in his face.

He wiped the spittle from his face and sighed, the sound filled with a mixture of disappointment and amusement and something else. I glared up at him, refusing to cower, despite the rampant fear racing through me right now.

He shook his head, a wry smile playing on his lips.

"Bold. Very bold. Remember this moment. Remember that you forced my hand, bad girl, because you took it too far and now, I'm going to have to punish you," he said, and I struggled in his grasp with as much fight as I could.

He dragged me forward. The flames seemed to flare up in response to his presence, the malevolent glow casting him in an even more terrifying light, and I gasped at the sight, but I was quickly distracted by him letting my wrist go.

In an instant, his hands were tearing at my clothing. The fabric shredded beneath his strong fingers, and he yanked off my shirt, leaving me in nothing more than a chest wrap. He gripped the cloth and tore it off of me too, spinning me around in the process.

My hands quickly went to cover my breasts as they bounced free and I shivered, suddenly feeling more vulnerable than ever as the cool air of the throne room caressed my skin.

My heart was racing, and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. What was he going to do to me? Was there anything I could do to save myself?

He reached down and grabbed a fistful of my hair. With a quick, hard tug, he pulled my head back, forcing me to look at him. He held up his hand in front of my face and I squeaked in surprise as his nails lengthened into claws.

My blood ran cold.

The rumors were true.

The Dark King was a monster.

My breathing was ragged and shallow, and my body trembled in fear as he brought the claw of his index finger to the underside of my chin.

"I'm going to enjoy what happens next far more than you will," he warned.

Then he took that same clawed hand and ripped through my cloth pants, tearing them away from me and leaving me in nothing more than a pair of boots. As each strip of fabric fell to the floor, my breathing quickened, and my heart pounded frantically in my chest. I struggled as hard as I could, but he batted my hands away as easily as if I were nothing but a gnat.

Then my pants were gone and I was entirely bare, save for my boots. I couldn't believe this was happening.

I was naked before the evil king.

Shivering with shame, I just stood there for a second in shock, trying to cover myself with my hands, my eyes wide with terror. He let go of my hair and grabbed my wrists, pulling them away from my body, and his gaze raked over me, devouring me. I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling very unsure of myself. It was as if he had removed my armor from me and now, I was defenseless.

I didn't know what to do.

He grinned, his smirk malignant, cold, and dark.

"You will learn to respect me, little thief," he murmured, sending a shiver down my spine.

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. Another tale 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.

Sure, maybe I deserved it. He was right about several things. I had not only stolen from him, but I'd slapped him and spit in his face, but that didn't stop the fact that this hurt and I'd more than learned my lesson to show the king proper respect.

I'd just curse him out in my head instead. He'd never find out that way.

Tears stung my eyes, and my breath was coming in ragged gasps, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of crying out. I would take this punishment and I would endure. Hell, I'd survived several trips over my father's knee as a child and I would survive this just the same, although the longer this went on, the more I questioned how much more I could take.

Just when I thought I couldn't bear another smack, the Dark King paused. His hand moved lower, sliding between my thighs.

I froze.

He couldn't possibly…

Oh, gods.

He did.

As soon as his fingers grazed my wet slit, I stiffened and tried to reach back to push his hand away, which only resulted in him pinning my arm behind my back.

"Bad girl, clearly I'm not spanking you hard enough when you have a pussy this wet," he murmured and I covered my face with my hands, ashamed.

How could I be turned on by this? What was wrong with me? Why was I like this?

I should be angry, furious even, but all I could feel was warmth tingling from the tips of my toes all the way to the ends of my fingers. My core squeezed tight, and I bit my lip, trying to keep a moan from slipping free.

I felt his fingers stroke along my slit, and my traitorous body responded instantly, the slickness from my arousal coating his fingers.

No. No. This couldn't be happening.

This was not happening.

His fingers found my clit and a lightning bolt of pleasure spiked through me at his unexpected touch. I jerked, gasping at the sensation.

This was wrong. This was all wrong.

He was supposed to be punishing me. This was supposed to hurt. I wasn't supposed to want him to keep touching me until I shattered right there all over his fingers.

"Don't! Stop!" I protested, hoping he would listen, but deep down in my heart, I knew he wouldn't.

Somehow, his touch was both gentle and demanding, and before I knew what was happening, my hips were rocking upward, almost like I was seeking him out.

I stilled immediately, trying to keep a level head, but quickly losing myself. I forced myself to think about the fact that he had just torn my clothes off with his claws and then spanked me like a child, which only seemed to turn me on even more. I thought of myself lying naked over his knee, my bottom bright pink and his heavy hand poised to spank me once more and a frisson of pleasure shot straight down to the very same clit he was currently touching.

To make matters worse, his touch was skilled, like he had done this a thousand times before and my body was responding against my will.

I was helpless and completely at his mercy. All I could do was squirm and gasp and hopefully keep myself from moaning as my cheeks burned with abject shame.

The longer this went on, the more I realized the inevitable.

I was going to come, right here with my ass freshly spanked and the Dark King's fingers between my thighs.

"Please! I don't want this," I protested, but his dark chuckle told me that, without a sliver of doubt, this wasn't up to me. I was going to come whether I wanted to or not.

He was going to force me to.

Oh, fuck. That should not be as hot as it was.

His fingers circled my clit, stroking the sensitive bud until my hips were rolling in tune with his movements, my body begging for the release only he could provide, and I hated myself for it.

"You're going to come and then I'm going to finish the punishment you've more than earned, little thief," he threatened.

And the worst part?

He was right. I was going to come.

I almost preferred the spanking right now. Almost.

His fingers picked up their pace, rubbing and caressing my clit until my orgasm was barreling toward me at full speed. The tension inside of me grew tighter and tighter, coiling like a spring. I saw my climax coming before it hit and I cried out, trying to do anything, trying to think of anything or anyone to stop it, but his fingers moved again and again and then all was lost.

I came and I came hard .

My whole body tensed as the waves of pleasure washed over me, my hips bucking and grinding against his hand. A moan escaped my lips as the intensity of my climax hit me full force, my pussy throbbing and clenching around nothing. His fingers never stopped moving, dragging every ounce of pleasure from my body that he could.

Wave after wave of exquisite bliss burned through me. My toes curled and my fingers gripped at the throne beneath me, so tight that my knuckles turned white. My body rolled, arching and squirming and pressing my needy bundle of nerves against the flats of his fingers despite everything I tried to do to stop myself.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my vision turning white as pure, raw passion surged through my veins, setting every nerve on fire. All too soon, the pleasure began to fade, and I was left panting and gasping for breath, my heart racing as I lay there over his knee.

When my orgasm finally subsided, the Dark King stopped his movements. I sagged against his leg, utterly spent, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

That had been one of the most intense orgasms I had ever experienced, and the worst part was that it hadn't been because of some lover, but instead it had been the Dark King who had forced it upon me.

It had been a punishment.

A punishment I had deeply enjoyed.

Fuck.

My mind was spinning, the shame and the horror of what had happened settling in. My body quaked with aftershocks, strong frissons of pleasure that were almost as intense as the initial orgasm itself, and I whimpered out loud. He had forced me to come, and it had felt so fucking good. I hated that with every fiber of my being.

Without missing a beat, his hand settled on my bare ass again. My blood was still pumping through my veins, my skin feverish, but I knew that things weren't over between us, that there was still the rest of my punishment to contend with, and my clit pulsed again.

"Now that we've dealt with that needy pussy, I'm going to finish the punishment I had planned for you, little thief," he declared, and I stiffened against him.

How much worse could it possibly get?

His palm descended on my poor backside, the first blow harder than any that had come before.

Free from the confines of my arousal, I felt every slap more than ever. Each time his hand connected with my bare bottom, a fresh wave of sharp heat spread through the already tender skin, and the pain intensified. It felt like my ass had been set on fire, the sting piercing and fresh with every spank.

I cried out before I could stop myself.

I slammed my lips shut, telling myself I would take this gracefully, that although I'd already come all over his fingers, this was just a childish punishment, and I was a grown woman that wouldn't cry when she got her bare bottom spanked by a big strong man.

Then he kept going and my whole body stiffened. He was relentless, his hand falling again and again. The spanking only got harder from there, and my resolve only lasted a few more smacks. After that, I was whimpering and crying out, but I told myself I wouldn't beg.

Oh, gods. It hurt so much.

The Dark King was far stronger than I was, and his hand was like iron as he pinned me in place. His palm connected with my bare backside again and again, and I couldn't help but struggle. I kicked my legs and wiggled and fought, but nothing I did slowed his relentless punishment. My ass was on fire, the pain burning hot and stinging with each spank.

Then my clit throbbed again, springing to life as though it yearned for him to touch it again.

I hated it.

I hated that I was getting turned on by this.

I hated that he was the one making me feel this way.

I hated him.

My eyes watered and I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to keep my composure, but it soon spiraled away when he started smacking the backs of my thighs. I quickly discovered that those stung even more than the rest.

The Dark King was not gentle, and he was not kind. He was relentless, his hand cracking down hard. Every slap was sharp and painful, sending a burst of heat and pain through my tender skin. It was a deep, burning pain that spread across my entire ass and thighs. Every time his hand landed, it felt like he was peeling away a layer of flesh.

I blinked back my tears, time and time again, but soon enough my panic spiraled, the punishment continued, and then my first tear dripped down my cheek. It was quickly followed by another and another.

My tears flowed freely now, and I no longer cared if I was strong or weak, if I was showing him any vulnerability or not.

I felt like I was trapped in a never-ending cycle of punishment. The spanks just kept coming, and I lost track of time, losing myself in the haze of pain until he finally stopped, and I sucked in a wild breath through my sobs.

"You're a cruel, sadistic monster," I managed, my voice still shaking with my tears.

"I'm your king," he replied, his voice hard, but there was a hint of something else in his tone. Desire, maybe? No, that would be insanity.

But then…

Oh, gods.

He was hard. I could feel his cock beneath my belly, every hard glorious inch, and a new surge of wetness flooded between my thighs. I couldn't believe it, but a part of me yearned for him to touch me again, for him to slip his fingers between my thighs and make me come and then flip me onto my back and…

No! Stop!

What in the seven hells was wrong with me? I didn't want that. I didn't even know why my mind was going to such lengths after he'd just brutally punished me. I should want to kill him. I should want to sink a knife deep into his heart, to end this before it went any further.

And yet…

I didn't.

I swallowed hard, trying to come to terms with this realization and hating myself all the more with every passing second. His fingers grazed my scalded flesh, dragging back and forth, sending spirals of fire through me with every touch, and I drew my lower lip in between my teeth, closing my eyes and trying not to enjoy it, trying not to react, trying not to rock my hips back and forth to entice him to stroke my clit in between my legs.

Oh, gods. What had I become?

His hands gripped my ass cheeks, squeezing them hard and I gasped, the sound escaping my mouth before I could stop it.

The Dark King chuckled, his grip tightening, his claws digging into the sensitive flesh, and I tried to crawl off his lap, but my pussy was pulsing, my body was warm, and I was starting to have trouble ignoring all of those things.

I was so impossibly aroused, and I couldn't do a damn thing about it.

His fingers moved between the globes of my ass, dipping lower still, and I whimpered as the pad of his thumb pressed against the entrance of my pussy.

The Dark King groaned.

I stiffened.

No.

Oh, no.

He wasn't going to…

I squirmed, trying to pull away, but his grip was firm and his fingers were unrelenting. He pushed the tip of his finger past the rim of my entrance, and I froze, knowing what he would find.

I was a virgin.

And now he would know it, too.

He was the first man to touch me. There had been no opportunity for romance in my life, simply survival ever since I'd lost my parents to the Sun King and now here I was, stark naked and wet over the Dark King's knee with his hand between my thighs.

I closed my eyes and tried to tell myself that this was nothing more than a dream, that this wasn't real.

But I knew the truth.

This was more than real, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.