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"I do not hit women," Teorin said. She shifted her foot and he fought to hold back a moan.

"Maybe you do not. But that does not mean you do not want to."

"What the fuck do you want?"

"A punishment."

He grew harder.

"And if I do it?"

"You will not have to worry about me running off to see other men. Or creatures. Or whatever has you in this much of a chokehold."

She moved her foot more and he gripped the side of the chair, his knuckles white. The hum grew louder until his vision blurred.

"Fine," he croaked.

"Get on the bed." She lay down and slowly pulled the nightgown down until she was completely bare. Then she turned over, lying on her stomach. "In my fantasies of you there is always a belt," she murmured.

Teorin could barely control himself. "I will not use a belt on you." His voice was softer than he wanted it to be.

"Teorin, I⁠—"

Before she could finish a sharp crack split the air as his hand came down on her.

He expected a whimper. A cry. Protest.

What happened instead was worse.

Asharin moaned and turned over briefly, breasts exposed, her pink nipples visibly erect even in the darkness of the room.

"Do it again," she breathed. "Your Majesty."

Teorin was not sure how long it went on like this. Only that it was good.

He hit her. Each time she wanted it harder, told him he was not doing it hard enough. Every few smacks she would whimper and say "It needs a rub, Teorin," her voice trying to sound cold and irritated but instead coming out seductive in the way that he had pictured her in every twisted fantasy he had allowed himself. After several slaps his own hand began to hurt and he felt a wave of guilt thinking about how she must feel. "I will be back," he said gruffly, and walked to the healer's den for soothing oils. When he returned she was exactly where he had left her. That pleased him.

"Hold still," he said, hoping his voice sounded colder than he felt. He rubbed the oil slowly into her skin as she winced.

"I am sorry," he said finally. "This will not happen again."

"I liked it," she said softly.

He laughed bitterly. "I do not know what game you are playing at, Asharin. You do not need to pretend on my account."

"Close your eyes and give me your hand," she said quietly.

He did not know why he obeyed. He did.

First there was her scent. Then the warmth. The low hum still sounded in his ears and he could not get rid of it and was not sure he wanted to. When he opened his eyes his hand was between her legs.

"The body does not lie, Teorin."

"You only love Colsar," he said, closing his eyes.

"I love him, yes."

His heart sank.