The Warrior and the Petulant Princess (9 page)

“But I knew it was her, I knew-”

“That is scarcely the point,” he interjected taking her by the elbow and moving her to her large, canopied bed. “It was a delicate matter. I knew a maiden so young and innocent was merely a pawn. I needed to win her confidence so I could learn more.”

“She poisoned my soup,” Lizbett retorted.

“She did not. Now sit down and I’ll tell you the truth of the matter, and please don’t interrupt me,” he said sternly, placing her on the edge of the mattress and sitting next to her.

Lizbett listened attentively as Larian explained the evil machinations that had been implemented by the devil Farris, and when he’d finished she let out a long sigh.

“So Falayla is to be rewarded,” she remarked, “not condemned.”

“Yes, but Lizbett, you too were brave tonight, and you saved us all.”

“Then why would you wish to spank me?” she frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“You are overwrought, you are very…”

“Very what?” she frowned.

“Very…tight.”

“What do you expect? People tried to kill us!”

“The kind of spanking I have in mind will give you a little punishment, such as you deserve for ignoring my instruction, but also take away all that tightness.”

“It will? How is that possible?”

“Lay across my knee, Princess, and you will find out.”

Lizbett stared into his eyes; she wanted to obey him, she also wanted to believe him, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to do either.

“Why do you hesitate?”

“I don’t know,” she said, her brow crinkling.

“I think there are times you like to disobey just for the sake of it,” he smiled.

She dropped her eyes and shifted her seat.

“Being strong doesn’t mean you have to fight everything and everyone all the time. Being obedient doesn’t make you weak. On the contrary, being obedient can show your strength. I obey my Prince and your father. Does that make me weak?”

“That’s different,” she quipped.

“Princess, you must lay over my knee and accept your spanking. If you do this now, right now, you will also be rewarded. If you do not, all you will end up with is a sore bottom.”

“Larian,” she whispered, “I…uh…okay…”

Sighing, she slowly moved across his thighs, wriggling to get comfortable, and rested her head on the mattress.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she bleated.

“What? Being obedient for once?” he smiled.

“No, letting you spank me without…uh…protesting.”

“I’m proud of you,” he said tenderly, smoothing his hand over the smooth silk of the robe as it laid over her curves. “You’re being a good girl. Because you complied I won’t spank you as hard as I would have, and you’ll be rewarded as well.”

“I’m being stupid, letting you do this,” she argued.

“Always with the debate! That is something I will spank out of you, I swear,” he declared landing a sound swat.

“OUCH.”

“That was for calling yourself stupid,” he said sternly. “You may be many things, Princess, but stupid isn’t one of them.”

“Thank you…I think,” she muttered.

“Now be still and no yelling. We don’t need the guards to come rushing in here and find you like this.”

“No, no, no,” she said quickly. “No, definitely not.”

“I’m going to begin,” he announced. “Bite your lip if you must, or bury your head in the coverlets.”

As he began spanking he let his smacks carry the message of discipline, but did not land them with the same force as he had at the waterfall. Falling into an easy rhythm, bouncing his hand across her curvaceous bottom, he felt her tension begin to slip away; her focus had shifted from the night’s tumultuous events to his hand, and the sting she was feeling.

“Lizbett,” he said softly, “have you discovered the pleasure that lies with the sweet nugget between your legs?”

“Larian, you ask me such a question?”

“Don’t you recall, when we were younger, I would sometimes stroke you there?”

“Yes, I remember,” she wriggled, her voice muffled as she buried her head in the sheets.

“Have you done this yourself? Stroked and caressed down there? Tell me.”

“I have…sometimes…and I do feel things, but not that big thing that I’ve heard whispered about, the tingling explosion that is supposed to happen.”

“I think now would be an excellent time to bring this into your life. Spread your legs for me.”

“Oh, Sir,” she whimpered.

“Do as I say, I promise you’ll be so happy you did.”

Tentatively she separated her legs, and when he gently rolled the silky robe up and over her glorious rump, he discovered flimsy pink underwear. It appeared delicate against her cheeks, and he could see the red hue courtesy of his spanking shining through the almost translucent fabric.

“I will not bare you,” he said warmly, “but I am going to put my fingers against you, against that sweet, hungry nugget.”

“It does feel hungry,” she bleated. “That’s the perfect word. It does want to be touched very much.”

“And now it will be,” he crooned slipping his hand against her.

The crotch of the thin undergarment was slick with her need, and pressing against the warm dampness he sighed with his own pleasure, relishing the promise of taking her for the first time. Shaking away the thought he moved his fingers to the small nub waiting for attention.

“Larian,” she murmured, “oh, I need you to do that.”

“I know, now sink into my lap and feel the pleasure. Focus on my fingers and how they touch you.”

He began the ardent massage keeping a steady pressure, and guided by her moans he pressed harder, allowing his fingers to gain speed.

“Something…something is…is happening,” she gasped.

“Yes, it is happening,” he assured her. “Let it overwhelm you.”

“Ooh, ooh, Larian…it’s…”

“Bury your head,” he said quickly, suddenly realizing she might not have the presence of mind to stifle her cries.

A moment later her bottom suddenly rose, her body grew taut, and with a soft, muffled howling she exploded into the joy.

CHAPTER TEN

T
hey were stretched out on her bed, Lizbett having fallen into a deep sleep almost immediately after nestling in his arms. Larian knew she was beyond exhaustion, and the light spanking and her first climax had allowed her to sink into a much needed rest.

He was not so fortunate; his member was surging in his trousers, and he was in desperate need of his own release. Carefully extricating himself from her entwining limbs he moved quietly off the mattress and looked around for the hanging curtain Handerah had described. He spied it on the far wall, and moving across the expansive room he pushed it aside, finding a chamber with a large inviting bed covered in rich fabrics and large cushions.

Oil lamps were dimly burning, and moving forward he saw an open door on the opposite side of the bed; to his delight it was an anteroom, with a tub offering the latest innovation, a small wheel that could be turned to release water into a large tub.

The Verdanians are such clever people, always creating some new marvel.

He gazed at it longingly, but too tired to take a soak he stripped off, washed himself quickly, then retired to the waiting bed. As he disposed of the many pillows and slipped between the warm coverlets his hand wandered to his cock, stiff and aching for relief.

Closing his eyes his mind wandered into his future; his hoped for wedding night. Lizbett was laying naked before him, her skin glowing with the fire’s flame, her legs widely spread in readiness, and her full, ripe breasts with their nipples stark and pointing to the heavens lay begging for his teasing tongue.

The vision alone was enough for his member to spew its cream, but dropping his hand away he refused himself, wanting to imagine more.

After taking several deep breaths he returned his fingers to their work, this time seeing his bride on her hands and knees, her deep violet eyes staring back at him over her shoulder, her bottom glowing red from the spanks of his hand, her trough glistening with its need. Placing his cock inside her soaked sex he pushed forward, gently battering, then slithered into her pure, silky cavern taking her as his own, driving forth and claiming her.

As the need to burst again fell upon him there was no holding back; his cock vacated with a mighty eruption. His essence short forth and began dribbling down his hand, and groaning between clenched teeth he vowed he would make her his bride.

“I will hasten your training, you will be mine,” he muttered between short ragged breaths.

The Zanderonian’s were known for their inherent ability to be strong and athletic; their warriors were legendary, and to be a Warrior Of The First Order was an elite title; it meant the man possessed tremendous skill, power and stamina.

Larian had ridden for three passages of the moons to reach Verdana, resting only when his horse required it. Even though he’d barely closed his eyes for the duration of his journey he had remained mentally and physically sharp. He’d been able to foil the dastardly plot against King Handerah, and taking to his horse again he’d carried Falayla to her home and captured a runaway conspirator.

But now he knew it was time to indulge in the other trait for which the Zanderonian warriors were famous; the ability to sleep as if in a coma. The state was called Zinyana, and it rejuvenated the body and mind, sinking the subject so deeply into sleep the heart slowed to half its rate; there was no dreaming and no movement.

It was the only time the warrior was vulnerable; he could not leap from his bed, his waking was measured, and he had to straighten his body slowly. Once rising from the state and having eaten, his prowess and strength were restored. Foregoing further rest he could do all that was required for several days before needing to sink into Zinyana again.

To enter Zinyana the warrior had to be assured he was safe, that he would not have to vault into action. In battle half the regiment would guard and fight, while the other half indulged in Zinyana, this way the warriors fighting were always at their peak, but there was another element to Zinyana that only the most talented of warriors could master; it was the ability to waken at a specific time, and it was a requirement as a Commander.

Picturing the pink-silver of the two moons Larian began the process. Each warrior had his own symbol to trigger the state of Zinyana, and the glowing globes that hung low and large in the night sky were his.

The mystical moons filled his soul as he sank into the mattress, his heavy weight causing the feathers to flatten. It was at this time that he set his waking hour, and he chose the time when the West sun was rising. The East sun was the first to lift over the horizon, the West sun appeared a short time later; the two suns dictated the habits of many.

As he crossed the threshold into unconsciousness the moons dissolved, and seeming to come from a far distance the whisper of Lizbett’s voice floated around him.

“Sleep well my warrior.”

Moments later he was adrift, weightless yet heavy, and his body and mind began the process of restoration.

Because Larian was slipping into Zinyana he’d been unaware that Lizbett had crept into his bed chamber. She had been woken by a strange grunting noise, and fearful that some loathsome creature had stolen into her chamber she had buried herself deeply under her coverlets. The frightening sound hadn’t lasted very long, and when all was still and quiet she had pulled away her blankets and stared around the room.

Though she was relieved there was nothing to be seen the odd sound had left her shaken, and hoping Larian had taken himself to the chamber next to hers she had slipped from her bed and peeked through the curtain. She was greatly relieved to see him, and feeling better she was about to return to her bed when she recalled what she’d heard about the state of Zinyana.

If he’s doing that, he won’t know if I cuddle up next to him. I could spend all my sleeping hours against his body. That would be sheer heaven. Hmmm, but how do I know he’s doing the Zinyana thing?

Creeping into the chamber she’d softly called his name, but he did not stir. Reaching the side of his bed she’d poked his shoulder, and received no response. Smiling happily she’d carefully pulled back the covers to join him, but when she did she saw his manhood; his hand was resting over it. Never having seen the sight before she gazed down, utterly captivated.

It looks so…lifeless…how can that thing possibly bring so much pleasure like everyone says? I know it’s supposed to grow bigger but it certainly doesn’t look like much.

Sighing heavily she’d climbed in next to him and pulled the covers over them both.

“Sleep well my warrior,” she’d murmured, and curling next to him had fallen back asleep.

When the warrior lifts out of Zinyana it begins with a tingling in his fingers. As the tingle radiates up his arm the muscles stretch of their own accord, then his eyes begin to flutter open.

Lizbett had moved his arm and curled herself around it, and when Larian began his waking process something felt wrong. His right arm was tingling as it should, the muscles were reacting and his arm was beginning to stretch out, but his left arm was having difficulty.

He knew not to panic; there could be reasons why the waking was not proceeding as it should. He’d been very tired, and may not have had his arm long and flat as he was supposed to, but he was sure his body had been properly laid out. His fear was that the castle security had been compromised and someone had bound his arm to incapacitate him.

As he felt the tiny muscles in his eyelids come back to life he waited, controlling his anxiety until they were fully restored, then very slowly opened his eyes.

The chamber was the one in which he’d gone to sleep, there was no-one else there, but his arm felt as though there was a mighty weight upon it. Darting his eyes to the side, prepared to fling his right arm across his body to attack whatever he might find, he saw the familiar curly red hair.

Lizbett!

Sighing heavily he surrendered back to the process of waking, allowing each of his limbs to return to their full state, but thanks to Lizbett his left arm would not be as it should for a while.