Alaric's hand comes down with a resounding smack on Elder Suyin's offered buttock, the sound sharp in the sudden stillness of the chamber. Lingfeng, her mouth still tingling from servicing him, looks up from beside the bed, her eyes wide. Liyue, nestled against his other side, gasps softly.
"Ngh! Master Alaric!" Suyin cries out, her body arching instinctively against his lap. The sting is immediate, followed by a wave of shocking, forbidden heat.
"That's Lord Alaric to you, Elder," Alaric corrects, his voice a low purr, though his grip on her hip is anything but gentle. He delivers another smack, harder this time, to the other cheek. "Or have you forgotten your place already?"
"No! Lord Alaric! Forgive me, Lord!" Suyin babbles, shame and a bewildering arousal warring within her. Her decades of icy discipline, her revered status as a peak Grandmaster Martialist, feel like fragile snowflakes melting under the inferno of his dominance.
