TRISTAN Introducing Tristan, Kind of.

As usual, Mock has hired me to do all the work on my own book. I use the term "hired" loosely. I'm not being paid. Something about what I made her go through writing the book and I owe her. Whatever. In other words, I'll be here to introduce myself and the others, and perhaps remind you about what happened in the first book. This means there will be spoilers so if you haven't read me yet, head over to AMAZON. I'm only 99 cents for now. Wait a minute, 99 cents?! That's highway robbery! Have you any idea what I go through in that book? My life, ripped away and for what? A set of chiseled abs?

I mean, they are nice abs. But that's not the point. Okay, so go grab the horror story of my life for ONLY 99 cents. I'm definitely having a word with Mock about that.

If you don't care about spoilers and or if you've read me carry on.

Let's see, so about me *thinks* I am a full-blooded Markaytian. I like swords, meat pies and watching frogs jump in the moonlight. I was next in line for warlord, but now I'm serving a warlord day and night. I do his laundry. I polish his boots. I--

"Tristan?"

"What do you want, Bayaden? I'm busy."

"Do you think this is open season for you to complain? Either do your job for Mock or get back to work." *crosses arms*

"Don't give me that look. You see? You see what I mean? Of all the--"

"That's it, I'm taking over. This is Bayaden Tar Jian. I am here to tell you that Tristan is a brat. He's got to be the worst gift I've ever been given by my brother."

"Not what you said last night." *smirks*

*glares* "Anyway. I don't know why he was next in line for warlord with his sloppy bow work."

"You said I was not bad for a human with a bow!"

"Exactly, for a human. You are no match for an Elf"

"Fine. Let's see what else I'm not a match for. Your cock can suck itself from now on." *Moves to sit far away*

"Oh c'mon, Tristan. I'm only teasing. Excuse me folks. :::Tristan. I'm just trying to make the crowd laugh. Of course I think you're good with a bow.:::

"And that I'm amazing. Tell them."

":::If I do will you come here?::: Tristan."

"If you tell them."

"Tristan is amazing with a bow, best human I've seen, but still no match for an Elf. What? Don't look like that. It's true. Now come here. That's better."

*nuzzles against Bayaden* *purrs*

*nibbles at Tristan's neck* *sucks*

Mock: "Oh my God! You two are fired."

Tristan: "Finally. Baya, I'm hungry."

Baya: "You're always bloody hungry. C'mon. You need a good spanking too."

Mock: *watches them walk away*

Oooookay then. That didn't work. Something about best laid plans. I'll just post the excerpt! But I wanted to make a quick mention about the New Story, the one with the Julius, Oliver, Shane, Simon, Silas, Lakshan, Wyatt and Darius gang. I don't have a name for it yet but I'm working on the story. So there will be more! I'm going to make it a full novel. I warn you, it's going to be painful. I haven't decided how I'm going to post it yet. Still trying to figure out how to tell it properly but it's in the works!

And if anyone has read Xavier's School and could leave me a review on Amazon and or Goodreads? That would be so awesome! Thank you guys so much. Thank you for all the reviews that have already been left.

And for Corrik fans, he's coming. I've got a Corrik surprise coming. Two actually!

This Excerpt:

So I never write prologues like ever. But as you know I write what I'm told and this prologue was pushed for by the characters. I went back and forth as to whether I should keep it in the book or not. I nearly scrapped it. But both my editor and others agreed that I should keep it.

Why did I want to get rid of it? It's slow. Especially in comparison to the rest of the book which is a wild, angsty roller coaster ride from the moment you start Chapter One until you reach the Epilogue. Finally the Epilogue slows us down and we're ready by that point! I know I was.

Why everyone said I should keep it: I have been told by several people that both pieces of the prologue add something to the story as a whole. It's the same reason I hesitated to cut it and so, when I got that kind of feedback I left it in the manuscript.

But I'm going to post it here so everyone can read it first (if they want to) and then head into chapter one when they get the book. This is my solution!

The artist for this work is by the lovely Sparkle. Isn't he so handsome? Hope you enjoy this and I'll have some more fun surprises along the way.

Tristan by Sparkle.artz

PROLOGUE PART I

Eagar Kanes - 15 YEARS AGO

I hate staring at a wall. Especially half-naked with a smarting behind.

I’ve been standing here for a long while. Of course, any amount of time spent standing, staring at a wall will feel like a long time, but I know I have been standing here for at least an hour. My feet have become restless, and the ache in my backside has become more of a nuisance. After a spanking, the sting lasts for some time; the length of time depends on the implement used, but then the sting turns into an ache, the same ache muscles get when they’ve been worked over. The ache is more annoying than the sting, in my opinion.

“Fidgeting is not the way to get out of the corner. You’re meant to be thinking,” Arcade says from behind his desk.

I know that.

I would snark at him, but that would not go over well. I’d be right back over his knee. Instead, I find the calm place within myself, the one Arcade helped me find long ago and I’m able to still my aching legs. Don’t know how much time passes after that, but I finally hear the words, “Come here please.”

I move to stand before my husband’s desk and keep hold of my shirt as I had been instructed. Humility is part of it. Hard to explain that bit; all I can say is that it is.

“Turn around, please.” Biting my lip, my heart pounding in my throat, I turn around so my husband can look upon the artwork he painted on my backside earlier. “Is this what you wish me to see as I drive my cock into you? Evidence of your disobedience?”

“N-no, sir,” I say, my voice wavering.

“Turn back ‘round, return your clothing proper, and take a seat.”

Damn. He’s not finished with me.

When I’d returned here, to the barracks, after bringing Tristan back to his mother at the palace, he was waiting for me—even opened the door to our chambers before I could so much as touch the door handle. I couldn’t look at him and stood there waiting for him to speak, my eyes downcast. “What is the real reason I’m about to spank you, Eagar?” he asked me.

“The real reason? Not my muddy clothing? I know you don’t like me traipsing around the palace that way unless I’ve been out on the field. In which case I’m to come directly here, and—"

“—that was not an invitation to spout off our rules, Eagar. You could have cleaned Tristan, and yourself at the palace. I would have been none the wiser, yet you chose to come here. Why do you think that is?”

“You said you’d be gone for the day. I didn’t think you’d be here. I wasn’t trying to get caught,” I’d explained.

“Maybe not consciously, but I have a good feeling if I hadn’t come back, there would be other evidence of this mishap left for me to find.”

When he said it, I knew he was right. I hadn’t given much thought to what I’d do with the dirty clothes. I most likely would have tossed them in the laundry bin—on top—where he’d see them plain as day. Not to mention the baths would not have been cleaned until the next day—even if he missed the clothing, he wouldn’t miss that.

It’s textbook bratting. And I am not typically prone to brat behavior.

I know this, yet I still don’t understand myself in the way I would like—there are no books on people like me in Markaytia. “I know it’s hard for you to ask for a spanking, angel,” he said, his voice was softer.

“I don’t want a spanking,” I complained and sighed. It’s the strangest conundrum. I never want chastisement, but always feel a world better after it. I avoid it at all costs, but it never ceases to amaze me—the ways in which I’ll seek it if I need it—even ways unbeknownst to myself. If I know this, why is asking so hard?

“I see. Your undisguised rule-breaking is evidence that you, my love, need a spanking. You’re all wound up. Come with me.”

I followed him to his office, my eyes widened when I saw what awaited me, my heart raced. Several implements from hairbrush to punishment strap, laid out in a neat row side-by-side each other. “Arcade! You can’t use all of those on me. What I did wasn’t that bad.”

“I could if I thought you need it, but I have not decided which I will use. You know I always want to be prepared. I didn’t mean to scare you, love.”

I calmed down. Arcade has never been unfair; I should have known he wasn’t about to start now.

“And yes, breaking that rule wasn’t that bad; however, there is something bigger going on and I plan to deal with you properly,” he said with serious eyes.

Arcade chose the hairbrush. I hate that Gods-awful thing if anyone wants to know. He bared my bottom and put me over his knee in the most uncomfortable position possible. My toes couldn’t reach the ground, and I was unequally weighted, so I felt like I was falling forward. I put my hands out in front of me to catch my weight, but he wouldn’t even permit that.

“Give me your hands, Eagar.”

“Arcade, please.”

“Now.”

I stifled a groan as I placed my hands at the small of my back, and he held them in place. I felt all of five years old—good job Arcade—but I knew better than to complain out loud. I earned this spanking, subconsciously or not.

He began with his hand. Anyone who says bare-handed spanking is nothing has never been spanked by my husband. I was bleating like a lamb in less than two minutes. “I’m sorry, Arcade! I’ll behave proper next time!”

“You will, sweetheart.”

“Please. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“I’m sure you have, but you have not paid the penalty.”

“But it hurts!”

“It’s meant to.”

No amount of crying or pleading stopped him. I suppose that’s why I trust him the way I do. That’s part of it too. Trusting him to do what’s best for me despite what I want in the moment, because no submissive or brat wants a spanking in the moment. If he had stopped because I’d begged him too it would break the chain; it would be hard to trust him to catch me when I needed him to. It’s important he knows I trust him to know to stop when it’s time to stop, but also never stopping before that point.

Tears streamed down my face, and I reached a point of clarity. Spanking is the physical manifestation of my emotions and in those moments over Arcade’s lap, I reached the true reason for my disobedience. He knew. He always knew and that was bloody annoying sometimes. “Having any epiphanies down there?” he said as he took up the Godsforsaken brush.

“Yes, sir. I am. Please don’t use the brush. I can tell you in detail.”

My pleading did not deter him. Arcade took to each of my sore cheeks with his evil, wooden paddle, disguised as an instrument of vanity.

“Do enlighten me,” he punctuated with more of the same, kicking my limbs as the tingling turned into a throbbing ache.

“By the love of the Gods, Arcade. Allow me to—owww—speak!”

“You’re telling me that a man of battle as you are—my second in fact—cannot take a child’s chastisement while speaking? I don’t believe it,” he continued.

“I didn’t—ooowch!—come to y-oou, because I really didn’t want a spanking.”

“Yet here you are, getting one.”

Snot was running down my face by this point, and I couldn’t wipe it away, since my hands were secured at my back within Arcade’s grasp. “Yes,” I panted, and finally Arcade let up giving me a break. I knew it wasn’t over, so I took the opportunity to get more words in that wouldn’t be interrupted by cries. “I don’t like that I need to be spanked.”

He rubbed over my sore flesh, sending good tingles to my cock and I couldn’t help my arousal. Not that I was going to get any sexual relief during a punishment, but I couldn’t help my body’s reactions. “It’s who you are, angel.”

He proceeded to spank me with his blasted brush until my voice was hoarse. When he was finally finished, I was done holding back any feelings I might have and was ready to talk. But of course, he saved the talking about the feelings part, helping me stand and directing me to the wall instead.

“I want you to think about any conclusions you have come to, and while you do, you are to hold up your shirt, so I can see your naughty, spanked bottom. Is that understood?”

My face heated and my damn cock responded in kind, hardening like a rock. Don’t get too excited, it’s not like you’re about to get any rewards. “Yes, sir.”

Now, I suppose, we’re going to talk about the conclusions I’ve come to at the wall. He waits for me to speak. “Tristan is going to be like me and it’s all my fault. I should stay away from him, but I can’t. I’m too selfish, and I love him too much.”

He’s quiet for several heartbeats. “Tristan is like you,” he says. “But not because you made him that way. It’s something you’re born with Eagar. Tristan has been the way he is since birth.”

I shake my head. “He sees too much even if he doesn’t know what he’s seeing. He’s started to ask questions. I don’t want this for him Arcade; needing someone to decide what’s best for him because he’s too pathetic to do it for himself.”

“Are you calling our son pathetic?” He quirks a brow.

“No. Arcade listen to me. Our son is going to have the same dysfunction I have, but he is made from your, and Olivia’s genes, not mine. He could only have gotten it from spending so much time with me—learning to behave as I do. I’m not good for him.”

Arcade sighs long and heavy, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Where do I begin with all of that?”

“It’s simple. Just—”

“—do you make the decisions, Eagar?” he cuts me off.

“No, sir.” I shake my head.

“That’s right. I’m surprised by what you’ve said, is all. I suspected other things, but not this.”

“What other things did you suspect?”

“We shall get to those things in due time, but first and foremost, I will not be keeping you from our son. You are his papa, and he needs you. Let that be the end to that one.”

Inside I’m relieved. If Arcade still thinks it best, then I’m glad even if I don’t quite believe it. I know a father is supposed to behave selflessly as regards his son, but I don’t think I could keep myself away from Tristan even for his own sake. I relax as much as I can; my arse hurts.

“Next on the docket—let this be said once and for all; I hope our son will be exactly like you. He could be so lucky.”

“How can you say that? That would mean he would need—”

“—someone like me?”

Oh. Oh right. I nod.

I know Tristan doesn’t see it now, and he won’t until he’s older, but he could be so lucky to find a man just like his father. That being said, the boy is six, Arcade could let up on him some. It’ll be a few more years before he begins training for the position of Warlord. Sure, we bring him to the field and show him some sword stuff, but he’s too young to practice with the big kids. Though Tristan seems to have a way of making it onto the battlefield with them and I wouldn’t be surprised if he was fighting with us sooner rather than later.

“I have some things to say about you and our son,” I say.

“Then let’s have it.” He looks amused, not angry like I think he should be.

“I don’t like the way you speak to him, and while we’re at it…” I pause to seethe for a moment.

“Yeeeeees?” He’s smiling now as if he thinks I’m cute.

“You punish him too harshly for trivial things. You berated him the other day for just spilling milk,” I continue.

“Ahhh. These would be the other matters, the ones I suspected were upsetting you.”

“Well. Explain yourself,” I demand.

“Mind yourself, Eagar,” he says. There’s discussion and then there’s belligerence. “Tristan is the most agile six-year-old I have ever encountered. Would you agree?”

“Yes, but accidents happen to the best of us.”

“Have you ever seen me spill a thing?”

“No.” It’s true. The man is infallible.

“That boy has more physical skill than I’ve ever seen in anyone his age—including me. That spill was no accident. I would think you would at least recognize that by now.”

Icy tingles spread over me. “So, you already know to what extent Tristan is like me?”

“I know and I act accordingly. Until he marries and finds a partner of his own, I provide a source of grounding or he’ll get out of sorts. My role is to be that solid form he can depend on. In fact, I shall only approve of such a partner for him.”

“How could you know? Why haven’t you brought this up with me?”

“I know the same way you do—I recognize it because I possess the same threads even if they are a different color; there’s no sign in particular. I was thinking of a way to bring it up that wouldn’t upset you. Though if I’d known how much it was already upsetting you, I would have ripped the bandages off and spoke with you sooner. I should have known you’d recognize it as soon I did.”

“You’re not mad about it? You don’t blame me?”

“I love you. Everything about you—especially the part of you that makes you need me as you do. It’s special, Eagar. I’ve already said it, but if you need to hear it again, I’ll say it as many times as is necessary: No, I don’t blame you. You’ll be helpful counsel for Tristan someday.”

“It’s dysfunctional.”

“I know you won’t believe this now, but I’ll say it anyway: Needing what you need is not dysfunctional, love. But that is something you’ll have to process yourself and it’s not likely to resolve within you today. Think about this: Who would there be for me, controlling bastard that I am, if I didn’t have you just as you are, to compliment me?”

“I’m lucky to have you understand my condition you mean.”

“No. I mean exactly what I say—we balance each other—if you are dysfunctional then I am dysfunctional, and I can’t care two ways past Sunday.”

I laugh. I love his confidence. “But our son, he can’t know. Maybe there’s still hope for him—we can change him, make him be more like you.”

His eyes frown sadly, not for our son but because he wishes I would understand what he’s trying to explain. “It’s his nature, Eagar. We can’t change him anymore than you could stop a crow flying. Besides, you want our son to be a smarmy, possessive arse?”

“I want him to be strong and in charge of his own life.”

“You are both of those things.”

That’s true. But, “What grown man needs to be spanked?”

His eyes fill with mirth. “You. There’s not much more to it than that.”

“People would judge me if they knew.” Except for maybe Olivia, Tristan’s mother. She knows, but she reserves judgement and is accepting. Other Markaytians are not as accepting of kinds of relationships they do not understand.

“If they judge us, they judge us. People judge people for all sorts of things. There’s no way around that.”

I nod. “And what of our son? If he’s like me, will you go easier on him?”

“I will do no such thing. Aside from the fact that I am a harsh person, if Tristan wants to be Warlord he might as well get used to it. I’m bound to get a whole lot harsher.”

I nod. I know to expect that by now. I look down at my tunic and play its edges, wondering if I’m forgiven, but too embarrassed to ask. “Come here, Eagar,” Arcade says, standing and opening his arms for me.

My heart lifts and I have to say, this is probably the best part about spanking—the after spanking cuddle. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Arcade.”

Arcade moves my hair from my face and wipes the tears with his thumb. He’s smiling. “Sorry? You know how much I love spanking your naughty bottom. I do want your obedience, but maintaining you is no chore.”

I squeeze him tightly, grinning into his shoulder. He makes no apology for who he is and if Tristan has to be submissive like I am then I shall endeavor to make sure his self-confidence is like his father’s.