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“I…”
“Emmaline,” he purrs. “Do it.”
To my surprise, I obey. I turn around and I prostrate myself on the bed, the soft coverlet meeting my bare skin. I know what is going to happen. I know I am going to feel pain. And I know that though we might not know each other very well at all, this king does love me.
“A palm is insufficient a tool for a princess of your spirit,” he declares. “So I shall use a leather lash to lick some sense into you. Stay still, and there will be fewer lashes. Make me chase you about the room and pin you down, and there will be more.”
A nervous giggle escapes me at the thought of being chased around the room. It is immediately cut off by the first dose of the lash. I hear the swish of the leather moving through the air, and a moment later it makes contact with my ass, catching the very center of both cheeks with a harsh lash.
My cry echoes around the room even louder than the sound of the leather cracking against my skin. It’s not just a physical sensation that floods me, the way it was when he spanked me aboard the ship. This is a more all-encompassing punishment. I don’t just feel it in my flesh.
I feel the world jolt.
The beautiful room shudders with me, and little cracks appear in my visual field. The clean stone walls turn to grimy, mossy, old dungeon-type walls in that moment. Then, as the pain fades almost immediately, the more comforting and opulent appearance of everything reasserts itself.
“In this realm, I am king,” Charming says, more by way of explanation than as a grand declaration. “You must obey me, for if you do not, only ruin can result.”
His lash lands again, and once more I feel the shock of the heavy slap, the intense sting rushing through my nervous system, and once more the world trembles. This time I happen to be looking at one of the leadlight windows, and I see the bright blue sky outside the window turn dark and red, framed by the same dark and weeping moss covered stone as before.
“What’s happening?” I whimper the question.
“You are being punished.”
“No. What’s happening to the walls?”
I hear Charming’s sharp intake of breath. “You can see the walls?”
“Yes… they’re… they’re dark and the sky is…”
“Let me help you settle, princess,” he says. His voice seems deeper and rougher than before. “Don’t turn around. Keep your eyes forward.”
I was already turning around, unfortunately. To stop my gaze from being spun around behind me, to perhaps stop it from falling on him, he lashes me again across both cheeks with a very harsh slap that is harder than either of the two which came before it. I gasp and turn back just in time to see the entire world shift to that of a dungeon with guttering torches and chains hanging from the wall, complete with iron shackles at their ends.
“Charming!” I cry out in distress and fear. “What’s happening!?”
“Don’t worry,” he soothes. “I will fix this.”
Smooth silk is slipped over my eyes and secured at the back of my head. The king has blindfolded me with what feels like practiced alacrity. I can no longer see the walls or experience their strange pain-based transformations of perception.
“Pay attention to yourself,” King Charming commands. “I want you to fully feel the consequences of your many disobediences.”
I hear the hiss of the lash as it comes through the air, punctuated with a sharp snap as it makes contact with my bare cheeks, catching both of them with a harsh slap. True heat sinks through my skin, into my flesh, and makes my nervous system spasm with the intensity of the punishment.
I now feel properly punished. Every time the lash lands, that same slapping sensation jolts me out of my usual mindset and throws me into a new reality where disobedient princesses are thrashed by their lover kings. The heat and the swelling and the pain is all predictable, but my reaction to it is not. I did not think I would ever submit to anyone for any reason. But with this heat flashing through me again and again as the king begins to work his lash across my ass in steady, rhythmic strokes, I squirm there on the satiny sheets of his royal bed, my naked form sliding against smooth material, my suddenly sensitive nipples and even the bud of my clit finding the slight ridges of the bedding and taking the opportunity to garner stimulation from them.
I feel not quite sorry, but certainly submissive. I feel as though perhaps I deserve this treatment. Once you’ve fallen off a balcony by mistake, you lose the high ground in any discussions around claiming you know what you are doing.
