The Combat Lesson

I decided to write a short spanking story with characters from a non-kink related somewhat fantasy somewhat sci-fi novel which I plan to write one day if I ever stop procrastinating and finish the world building stage. I’m not sure how much sense it is going to make as it’s set part way through the novel and has a lot of lore behind it that would have been explained in more depth earlier on in the story. However, it was finished so I figured I’d post it here.

Anaya sat beside the campfire hugging her knees. Tears streamed down her face as she sneaked a glance at the warrior sitting across from her. Arkama opted not to acknowledge her presence or distress focusing her attention on her sword as she ran a whetstone over the blade in a loving caress. Her weapon was the only thing Arkama had bothered to clean after the conflict that had occurred earlier in the day. Her, flesh, hair and armor were caked with blood which was starting to crust. Anaya shivered, Arkama’s comfort with violence terrified her. Anaya retched, leaning over to empty her stomach for the sixth time since they had escaped the bandits’ camp. Arkama gave her a fleeting glace, rolling her eyes in disgust before turning her attention back to her blade.

“Did you really have to kill them all?” Anaya queried her voice barely above a whisper.

“They would have killed us, Princess. What else would you have me do?” Arkama glared at her in irritation.

“They never said that. You couldn’t know that!” Anaya matched Arkama’s glare “You could have at least tried talking to them first. Perhaps if they had known I was a Priestess of the Lysandrian Order on a sacred mission to defend the four realms from the corruption of dark magic they would have let us go! Killing is wrong no matter the circumstances! The Goddess Lysandra teaches…”

“The way I’ve heard it your goddess committed genocide against her own people…” Arkama interrupted.

“The Goddess made a great sacrifice to rid our world of dark magic, she formed the Lysandrian Order to be the keepers of magic, to ensure death on such a scale never has to happen again. She saved us and protects us. It is blasphemy to suggest otherwise.” Anaya bristled at Arkama’s insult.

“She’s not my goddess so I fail to see why I should care what she would view as blasphemy.” Arkama chuckled. “You’re useless you know that? When they told me you were both a princess and priestess of the Lysandrian Order I expected you would be a powerful magic user. Not only are you the only one of your people in known history to be born lacking magical ability, you can’t use a weapon, and you have a meltdown every time you encounter the slightest bit of violence.”

“None, of my people find violence tolerable and that was not a bit of violence!” Anaya protested. “You butchered them! It was unnecessary.”

“Princess…” Arkama sighed “If you don’t grow up and realize the world is a dangerous place you’re going to get yourself killed long before we encounter any dark wizards.”

“Why would you care about preserving my life!” Anaya sobbed “It is clear my company is a burden to you.”

“You’re correct, I don’t care about your life.” Arkama scowled. “I do care that there is an entire city of women just as deluded as you, all of whom are magically gifted, who would likely hold me responsible for your death.”

“No they wouldn’t…” Anaya whispered “They sent me because I’m expendable. I was born of sin. I am not a true daughter of Lysandra.”

“Am I supposed to know what that means?” Arkama eyed her impatiently.

“Usually when a Lysandrian wishes to have a child she will go to the temple and complete a prayer ritual. If the Goddess chooses to honour her, a child will be conceived through magic, that child will be a daughter of Lysandra herself.” Anaya explained between sobs. “I was conceived in the way that you savages conceive your children, because my mother broke the sacred code. That’s why I’m not magically gifted. My mother believes the High Priestess sent me on this mission because she wants me to die.” Anaya took a deep breath. “That couldn’t be true though. The high priestess would never… It would violate the teaching of the Goddess…”

“Brilliant! Just brilliant!” Arkama started to pace. “You’re telling me I’m being sent on a suicide mission so your people can get rid of you.”

“No!” Anaya gasped “My mother is volatile… what she says is not true. The High Priestess certainly does not intend for me to die on this mission. However, I suspect I was chosen because I would be a more acceptable loss should things go wrong.”

“And what exactly does your High Priestess expect you to do if you encounter a dark wizard?” Arkama frowned.

“This is a reconnaissance mission. She intends for me to determine whether the rumours of dark forces amassing are true and report back to her. If I do encounter a dark wizard I shall pray to Lysandra for guidance.”

“Unacceptable!” Arkama snarled pulling a knife from her belt and dropping it at Anaya’s feet. “If I’m going to be stuck with you you’re learning to fight.”

“I cannot!” Anaya’s tears intensified.

“You will.” Arkama snapped. “Pick up the knife now!” Anaya shook her head and scooted backwards. Arkama bent over to pick up her knife then stalked after Anaya. Seizing her by the hair she hauled her to her feet.  Arkama made her way back to her spot beside the fire dragging Anaya along with her. She sat down and hauled her over her knees. She once again dropped the knife on the ground within Anaya’s reach.

“When you’re ready for this to stop just use the knife.” Arkama smirked. She brought her palm down on Anaya’s bottom with a loud smack. Anaya’s responding shriek resounded through the trees. Arkama’s hand landed again.

“What are you doing? This is barbarous! I command you stop, right now!”  Arkama chuckled at Anaya’s frantic protests.

“Am I being too violent for the sensibilities of your goddess?” More smacks rained down, each one answered with a squeal. “You know you have complete control over how long this continues?” Arkama increased her tempo revealing in the sound of Anaya’s screams. She had been subjected to Anaya’s whining and self-righteous moral rants for weeks now and she’d had enough.  Arkama was vaguely aware that Anaya was shouting further protests but she tuned them out focusing her full attention on the task at hand. Her palm connected with Anaya’s bottom over and over. Her hand began to sting, but it was a good sting. She relished it, satisfied the sting Anaya was currently experiencing must be far greater.

Upon realizing Arkama had no intention of responding further to her protests Anaya settled for loud sobbing interspersed with the occasional high pitched wail.  Anaya had heard of this practice, knew it was something members of the less civilized realms did to disobedient children, however she herself had never experienced it. The Lysandrians were above such things. The only discipline to which she had been subject was isolation in the prayer chamber and that had never been intended as a punishment so much as an opportunity for self-reflection.  She had never imagined a simple punishment intended for children could hurt this much. She felt like she had thrown into a volcano bottom first.  This line of thought reminded her that Arkama’s people were, in fact, known to throw people into volcanos as a punishment for cowardice. She shuddered.  Anaya’s thoughts faded as the pain intensified and soon she could think of little besides her throbbing bottom.

“You really are annoyingly stubborn.”  Arkama’s voice penetrated through the haze of pain. “A worthy trait for a warrior. Less so for an over-privileged princess.” The spanking stopped and Anaya allowed herself a moment to hope Arkama had given up. Arkama, however, had no such intentions.  She glanced around, eyes falling on a thin tree branch. Picking it up she stripped away the excess twigs and leaves and swished it through the air experimentally. This would do nicely.

Anaya felt a sense of growing unease. She couldn’t see what Arkama was doing. The only clue to her possible actions was the sound of rustling. However, she hadn’t let her up yet and that did not bode well. She tensed as the rusting was replaced with a swishing noise but relaxed slightly when no pain followed. She heard the noise again. This time whatever Arkama was holding did land on her bottom. A line of fire blossomed across her flesh and she screeched. She had thought being smacked with Arkama’s hand was terrible but this was far worse. The pain took her breath away. She thrashed against Arkama’s hold in an attempt to free herself but she was unsuccessful. The switch found it’s mark again, a second line seared her bottom. She couldn’t take any more of this.

She acted without thinking, seizing the knife she slashed it across Arkama’s thigh.  She couldn’t have done much damage through her armor but the switching stopped. Arkama stood pushing Anaya away from her. Anaya dropped the knife and lunged for Arkama’s sword. Tears still streaming down her face, breath shaky, and hands trembling she pointed the blade in Arkama’s direction.

“Stay away from me!” She bit out between sobs.

“Excellent progress! I think that will do for today.” Arkama wrenched the sword from Anaya’s hands with ease.  Sitting back down she started running the whetstone across the blade once more. Anaya returned to her previous position sitting by the fire, hugging her knees, although crying a little more loudly this time. Arkama glanced in her direction and smiled to herself. She was going to make a fearsome warrior out of the little priestess whether she liked if or not.


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