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over his lap as if she were merely an oversized pancake. She kicked her bare feet, but she only stubbed her toe for all her trouble.
    She had no idea what he was doing, and her attention was too wrapped up in her hurting toe, before Draevan’s rough, overly large hand smacked down heavily on her bare bottom.
    “Nyah!” she squeaked, aghast. “You can't—” She stopped the sentence there. She couldn't even mouth the word, ' spank '. It would have been embarrassing enough if she was a four-year-old child heading over her father's knee for some discipline.
    But she didn't have one of those fathers. In fact, she had no parents at all that she could remember. Her brothers were her world since she was a babe, and they were… well, they weren’t disciplinarians. They were jesters and jokers and thieves. Lying, stealing, or cheating and getting away with it was rewarded, not repressed.
    Strangely, the embarrassment wasn't the worst part, although humiliation here was in no small measure. The most awful part was certainly the pain produced by the punishing palm that came down on her flesh again and again, echoing the sounds of her punishment through the trees. “You're being ridiculous! Stop it! Stop it!”
    Draevan’s hand had the ability to nearly cover the entire span of her flesh. Now that it was in pain, her bottom felt so sensitive that she believed she could feel his hand even when it only hovered over her skin.
    “Let me know if you need me to take off my belt, Draevan,” Taric said encouragingly to Draevan over the noise of her growling and angry chirps. She felt a surge of hate fly through her body.
    “Go fuck yourselves, both of you!” she hissed, unable to imagine this torture getting any worse.
    There was a whistle above her head. “Hear that sort of language coming out of such a pretty little thing? Damn shame,” Draevan said reproachfully. “On second thought, that belt might come in handy, Cousin.”
    “Coming right up.” She heard the horrible sound of his belt whooshing through his trousers’ loops. While she was following them for the last three days, she had decided that Draevan was the brutish one and that Taric was more the soft and intellectual type, mostly because Taric was more skeptical by far and had a leaner, yet taller, build than Draevan had.
    Still, even though Taric wasn’t the one punishing her directly, she hated them equally.
    She felt Draevan’s body shift as he reached for the belt. She couldn’t do much to protect her bottom because of how her hands were tied to the small of her back, but she found herself willing to stretch herself backwards as much as she could to try to make covering the tender flesh back there possible. Draevan simply shoved her back down, so she responded by bucking on his lap like a mad horse. “Don't. You. Dare!” He dared indeed, because the belt slapped down firmly across both of her cheeks, leaving a white stripe of pain in its wake. “Fuck!” she cried angrily.
    She felt her status as an elf rapidly declining. It was unheard of for one of her people to be in such a position—stripped, bare-assed, and unwed, over a human man's knee. She forced herself as best she could not to think about how much of her most private anatomy they could see, which was surely more than she’d seen of herself.
    “Genuine elf-bottom,” Draevan said approvingly, ignoring her agitation. “Good thing we’ll be given one of these soon enough! Hopefully we’d get to see her in this position as well.” Just as she was busy not appreciating how casual he was about spanking her, Draevan brought the belt down again with a loud CRACK! that was so loud, she felt her heart skip a beat from the shock.
    “Ouch!” she cried. Damn it all, that hurt ! Why would anyone even spank a child this way? It was torture! She felt she was losing her composure—fast. Her heart began to race as the stinging pain increased with every slap. “Okay, you've had your fun. Stop! Stop