Shared Between Them (3 page)

Taric continued to look at her like she should be ashamed of herself. She sighed with resignation. “Fine,” she huffed. “I was a very naughty girl. Is that what you want me to say? I still don’t deserve this treatment!”

“You’re a thief! Do you
feel
shame?” Taric asked her, looking both amused and exasperated, which was a mixture of emotion she'd only seen on her brothers.

“Let me think…” she replied, looking up at the tree canopy above. “No! You’re the ones that should be shamed! Me, on the other hand… I can't afford shame. I'm too poor.”

“Well, I think we can spare you some,” Draevan replied, stepping backwards towards a log resting on the ground nearby. “Consider this helping of shame
on the house
, our death not even required in this transaction!” He sat down on the old, hallowed log and flipped her body 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 now!” Each word she spoke betrayed her agony and desperation. “Stop it! Stop it, please!”

She was more than certain that she was the first elf in history to have said 'please' to a human. She was exploring all sorts of taboo behavior today! She was nearly thankful her brothers were dead; if they knew about this, they'd never let her live it down.

“All joking aside, little elf, you've earned yourself a good solid hiding. Now be a good girl and take your medicine,” Draevan replied unsympathetically, somehow even firming his grip on her, making it so she could barely buck or squirm around on his lap.

That was probably for the best since her kicks and squirms, it came to mind, probably made her look like she was a naughty three-year-old being taken in hand. “I'm nineteen years old! You can't do this!” she tried, openly frustrated by all this.

By now, it felt like a million fire-ants were biting her.

“Oh, come now. A woman's never too old for a well-needed spanking,” Taric replied above her. “Drae, you missed a spot.”

“I hate you! I hate you both! I can't wait until you're eaten,
and you will be
!” She was quickly beginning to wish that the giant wasn't deaf, because her cries would lead the creature right to these men.

“Nnnooo!” she cried. Then, at last, she felt the leather bindings slipping away. Her hands were free! She grasped at Draevan’s leg, trying to heave herself off, but he wasn’t having any of her escape attempts, and held her tighter, pressing her chest to his thigh.

“No need to be so angry at us just because you're a bad thief,” Draevan clucked. “Taric, can you hold her hands down? She’s getting a little dramatic, and I’m not near done,” he asked Taric with the sort of casualness that was reserved for ordering a beer at a tavern.

“Okay, okay!” she cried, as if she had completely succumb to this inquisition.

Only it wasn't an inquisition, so even though she actually said, “I'm sorry! Is that what you want? An apology?” it didn't help her a jot.

“I want you to stop making a racket, so we can teach you not to steal without our ears bleeding.” Draevan didn't sound very sympathetic at all, which meant Taric wouldn't be, either. After all, only Draevan knew how hard he was hitting her.

He stopped spanking only long enough to adjust her on his lap so she wasn’t half-way falling onto the ground like she was now. Lord, it hurt still even though he wasn't currently smacking her! Her skin burned heatedly and stung, and she wanted so much just to reach back and rub the pain away…

SMACK. And the pain returned. Somehow, thinking for a moment that it might be all over after all and then it not being over was too much to bear. Her lip trembled as she felt her eyes begin to prick with tears. She had to get out of this!

“Aaah!” she jerked, out of necessity for survival, in such a way that her hands were now free, and all she could think to do was struggle all the more, her arms cartwheeling, as she tried to escape this new pain. The leather felt like it was slicing into her! “No, no, no!” she yelped. “No, no…”

Taric was suddenly crouched in front of her, gathering her hands into his own. His expression was oddly patient, and he watched her expression change. In turn, his face began to look not sympathetic, really, but warm. It was quite an odd contrast.

SMACK! “Please, please…” she whimpered at him. “Help…” Her throat was already sore from yelping. She could feel that any second the dam would break, and she would start crying. There wasn't any stopping it.

SMACK! The leather came down right between her bottom and her thighs. Her whole body flinched violently and, just as she expected, tears began to fall.

Looking straight into the face of the handsome, dark-featured human, she began, smack after smack, to blubber like an infant.

She stopped struggling since it was only wearying her, and low and behold, that's when Draevan finally stopped. He passed Taric's belt back to him, but Taric merely took it, set it across his knee, and then pressed his fingers against her tear-stained cheeks. “You have such a pretty cry,” Taric told her in an affectionate, enlightened way, like he was watching a sunset rather than a naked girl who’d gotten her tail blistered.

Draevan hadn't yet released her or let her up, but he rubbed his large palm over her skin before gently tracing a couple of the thick welts on her bottom with his finger.

She couldn’t believe that these humans were touching her with their dirty hands, but yet there they were. She whimpered, fearing that too much protest would merely lead to more spanking, which was something she couldn’t take.

“Damn beautiful,” Draevan said in a low, heady voice. His roving, rubbing fingers then found a place between her legs that hadn't been abused… Nor had it ever been touched; it was that territory reserved for the husband she never planned to have.

“Oh…” The touch of his fingers made a low moan come out of her lips, which she immediately quelled. Her eyebrow puckered with confusion, and embarrassment continued to knot her stomach when she realized that she’d moaned loud enough for either one of these men to hear.

“She's a responsive little thing,” Draevan informed his cousin. “Do you think we'll get an elf-wife that's this eager?”

“I'm not eager!” she cried, humiliated beyond belief. “I don't want you to even touch me with your dirty, stupid, human fingers!” Her face burned as hot as her bottom.

His fingers continued to delve deeper into her folds, his movement slick because of the moisture that had immediately appeared when his fingers first went that far south. She bit her trembling lip, squinting, unable to look into Taric's eyes once again and see the appraising look on his face.

His finger stopped delving into her. “By all that's holy, Taric—she's a virgin!”

“Of course I am!” She didn't know why she was furthering his excitement by saying that, because Draevan groaned with need. “Stop…” When Taric let go of her hands, she opened her watery eyes and saw that Taric’s nose was nearly touching her own. Without any further warning, he grabbed her chin in his hand and brought his lips forward to kiss her.

No, kissing really wasn't what this was. His mouth pressed hungrily against her own, his tongue delving deeply into her mouth. She'd never seen kissing quite like that… But then, she had hardly seen any kissing at all in her life!

Bite him!
she told herself, but she couldn't do it. In fact, she felt her body soften over Draevan's firm thighs, her body coming alive in a way that it hadn't done before; it was as if she were a stranger in her own body. Her body simply wasn't doing what she willed it to!

Taric pulled back, rubbed her cheek again, and said something in that stupid language she didn't know. Draevan quickly growled something in response; apparently not happy with something that was said. Taric's expression firmed as he looked up at Draevan and continued to argue until Draevan grumbled and she felt him let go of her.

Taric helped her stand and then strapped his belt on as she tried to cover her breasts and her front at the same time. She looked up and narrowed her eyes at the men. “Are you quite done molesting me now?” she seethed.

Draevan took her by the elbow, not firmly, but solidly enough to quell any ideas she might have been brewing up about running away. “Not by a long shot!” he huffed. “We're just saving you for our victory feast.”

Her face paled. “You're going to eat me?” she gasped. She would believe anything from them at this point…

“Well, we'll definitely be tasting you…” Draevan said, with mischief in his eyes.

“Draevan,” Taric said reproachfully. As Draevan was rolling his eyes at the reproach, Taric reached forward by way of asking for her hand. When she didn't put it into his, however, he merely grabbed her fingers tightly and led her to the ground by their saddles where they had been resting. He pulled out a spare shirt and unfolded it by whipping it through the air before handing it to her. Eagerly, she put her hands through the sleeves and into the fabric. It was even larger than the last one—Taric’s tunic fell far past her knees. She wrapped her arms in front of her for more warmth.

Taric kicked his and Draevan’s leather bedrolls together with the edge of his boot. “You'll sleep here tonight,” he informed her, pointing to the bedrolls. “In the morning we'll find a safe place to tie you until after we've dealt with the giant.”

She looked at the sleeping area with disgust. Sleep with them? Were they insane? “No!” she refused firmly.

“Did you enjoy your spanking, she-elf?” he asked her.

Immediately her heart hammered at full-speed. She swallowed, but then shook her head.

“Well,” he said, “we
did
enjoy ourselves. So please keep that in mind before you speak. Now lay.” He pointed to the ground again, and this time she lowered herself obediently to the thick leather roll. Her haunches ached, and she had to adjust herself to her knees, pulling the edge of the shirt over as much of her body as possible. Taric dropped himself next to her, put an arm around her chest, then lowered the rest of his body down and drew a blanket over them.

They were now spooning. She was spooning a human. What was next? Pigs flying? Perhaps a unicorn would walk on by?

What was worse was when Draevan laid down next to her, his face just across from hers, and pulled his own blanket over them so that she was now snuggly under two. She realized that she was now being
sandwiched
.