The Tied: Possessive Gods, Book Three

by Renard, Loki

  I am angry. He is incredibly handsome.

  I do not care for the way he is speaking to me. I prefer the appreciative gaze of the other gods, they who worship me as I deserve to be worshipped. I have received a lot of those gazes tonight, which makes his paternalistic judgement even less appreciated.

  “I already have a father. Two, actually, so you do not need to worry about me.”

  “You may have two fathers, but neither of them have ever disciplined you properly.”

  “Why would they? I can do no wrong.”

  He stares at me for a moment, then throws his head back and laughs. “You truly believe that, don't you.”

  “Of course I do.”

  “You can do wrong. You have done wrong.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I’m not arguing with you, I’m telling you.”

  “You have no authority over me, Triton. You are of the sea. I am of the sun. Do you know what that means?”

  He folds his arms over his chest and gives me a look which in retrospect I realize is one of warning. For the moment, I still believe that he needs to be enlightened.

  “My father is a sun god. There is no god higher than the sun.”

  “Is that what he told you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very well, continue.”

  “As daughter of the sun god, I have free rein to do as I please. I can go where I wish, with whomever I wish. I can speak to any god, visit any island on Okeanus. You have no right to sweep me off a beach and lecture me in your water shack.”

  This is actually a much more impressive palace than my father’s, but I can’t admit that. Not to myself, and certainly not to him.

  “I saw you at the party earlier,” he says. “I saw you display yourself to the gathering.”

  He’s referring to my unclad entrance which was immediately ruined by Ragnar.

  “I can be naked if I want.”

  He lets out a growling sigh. I believe he is losing patience. That makes two of us. I have just stepped into a world of freedom only to immediately be reined back in.

  “You live in a world of exceptionally dangerous gods. Tonight, you baited them all. One of them almost took that bait. Do you know what could happen to you?”

  “Tell me.”

  “There is not enough time to begin to recount the many horrors which befall the innocent and arrogant. You will have to believe me, and do as I say.”

  “And what is it you say?”

  “That I am taking you home.”

  “Nope. Not interested in that.”

  “I am disciplining you, then taking you home,” he corrects himself.

  “You are absolutely not.”

  But he is.

  He takes me by the hand and leads me over to an opalescent bench seat which by itself alone is almost more beautiful than anything I have ever seen.

  I am so shocked, and perhaps so curious that I barely argue as he pulls me over his godly thighs. This is the most any male has ever touched me. I am caught off guard by the internal cascade which occurs in reaction.

  There’s immediate excitement, a bolt of pure pleasure which rushes from the core of me and finds the deviant spot between my thighs where all my most delicious thoughts arise. I have never felt this with anybody else before. These feelings have been constrained to private times, the depths of the night. They have been mine and mine alone. Now, with one sudden, swift move, they are ours.

  Triton doesn’t know what he has done to me, what intangible barrier has been broken, what bond has been immediately and perhaps even irrevocably formed.

  I am still shocked at his strength. I first felt it when he took me from the shore. There was no way I could have resisted him then, and there is no way I can stop him now. His big, muscular arm wraps around my waist and snugs me in place.

  Then the pain starts. A sharp slap delivered to one cheek, followed by another slap to the other. It is an explosive heat, a sting which seeps through my skin and spreads through my body in a warm welling swell.

  He’s holding me so firmly I cannot move. Cannot escape. Cannot even squirm meaningfully. I am unable to escape the slaps. As they multiply, my skin grows hotter and the pain starts to intensify. This is a brutal, barbaric, entirely ungodly punishment and I don’t really understand what I have done to earn it.

  “Why!? Why are you doing this to me?!”

  “Why? Because you flaunted yourself to a room full of gods, and then ran off with one of them, a god who is as deceptive and deviant as they come. You are fortunate he has his gaze set on your sister.”

  I look back up and over my shoulder at Triton’s stern face. “He does? He wants Raine? Really?”

  Triton replies by scowling and slapping my bottom again. “That is hardly the matter at hand, Lucy. You are.”

  “I mean — Raine. Raine? I was there. And he wants Raine? Nobody wants Raine.”

  He replies with a flurry of much harder, rougher swats which make me squeal and forget all about whatever might or might not be happening with my older sister.

  “You,” he growls. “You have put a target on your back, and front, and every other part of you. And then you made another decision which could have resulted in endless pain for you and all you know.”

  “I’m in endless pain now!”

  “This is not endless pain. This will end and then you will go back to your father’s palace and you will stay there until you have matured.”

  “I’m eighteen!”

  “Eighteen,” he snorts. “Eighteen is the life of a mayfly.”

  “My mother says that is when we become grown.”

  “Some mortal notion, I am sure. I doubt she will believe that after the events of this evening. You have been thoroughly irresponsible…”

  “What do you care! I’m not your problem. I’m not your daughter.”

  “I am a god. It is in my nature to look out for those who need looking out for. You, Lucy, are wayward. If somebody does not do something now, you will be harmed. That is a certainty. You are not yet old enough to understand all the forces of this world, or the fact that your beauty is as great a curse as it is a blessing.”

  His words are almost sweet. I could consider swooning, but moments later he starts spanking me again and all notion of sweetness is driven from my head by his punishing palm.

  “I do not tolerate disrespect,” he lectures.

  “I didn’t disrespect you! I disrespected them!”

  “Disrespecting your parents in my presence is disrespecting me,” he growls.

  He spanks me again, just as hard. I feel silly and small, and all the burgeoning desire rushing through my veins has been jolted out to leave me sore and, yes, sorry.

  “You are a princess of the realm. You will behave as such. You will show respect to your family and your subjects, and you will not go running about with strange gods.”

  Nobody has ever spoken to me this way. I am, first and foremost, the child of Helios and he has never permitted me to be disciplined.

  I am shocked. I am sore. I am surprised at my own capacity for discomfort and what the sensation he is imparting to my skin is doing to other parts of me, parts which lie at the core of me, slumbering like the night sun and now burning just as bright.

  As he continues to spank me past the point of my capacity to bear it stoically, tears spring to my eyes. A combination of shame, helplessness, and pain makes it impossible to maintain composure. I am in trouble, for the first time in my life. I am unexpectedly facing the wrath of an authority who will not be disobeyed. I do not know how to handle this. I've never experienced it before, and I do not like it.

  I have never been struck before. I have hardly been disciplined. Instead, I have been confined. My sister and I were restricted to the palace for the most part, and the island at most. We never left our native shores of the island where we were born, unless you count riding Helios’ winged horses, but we never landed anywhere else. The most censure I have received up
until this very point was Ragnar making me put clothes on when I tried to party naked.

  Triton’s punishment shocks and appalls me. My tears start to course down my cheeks, punctuated by sobs. I don't know whether to apologize or beg for mercy, but I have a feeling it doesn’t matter.

  The sound of his hand hitting my cheeks echoes around the room, as do my gasps and whimpers. This empty space seems to have been defined by and designed for one purpose: making me miserable and sore.

  I lash out with my words, because I cannot defend myself physically. He is an ancient brute and there is no material escape. There may, however, be a verbal one.

  “It’s not my fault you don't like to see anybody having fun! You hide down here all the time and you growl at everybody and you’re hurting me because I had the most fun out of everybody and you can’t handle it!”

  “You are missing the point of this exercise,” Triton growls. “This is not about fun. This is about safety.”

  “If I want to walk around naked, I should be able to do so! I don’t care if it makes other gods want me. That’s a them problem, not a me problem.”

  He pauses. He lets me up. My gods, did that work?

  Triton looks me in the eye, even though I can hardly meet his gaze. “You are right.”

  “I am?” I didn’t expect him to acknowledge me, let alone agree with me, especially after he was the one to lecture me about parading myself around. “Is this all just an excuse for you to put your big, mean hands on me? Did you want to see me cry?”

  He brushes away my tears with the pad of his thumb and somehow, I hear a silent yes.

  “Your tears are beautiful,” he murmurs, only just avoiding the question. "You are transcendent. The idea of anything happening to you…”

  “Like some brute capturing me and whipping me until I’m red and sore,” I sob.

  I cannot take any more of this. I do not know how many slaps have landed, or how many more are yet to land, but I know that I am at my limit.

  Somehow, he knows the same thing.

  “Poor baby.” His words are gentle as he lifts me from his lap and stands with me, holding me to his chest. I am sore. My legs are shaking a little from the adrenaline overload of my ordeal. I feel weak and floppy and more than a little disoriented, but Triton keeps hold of me, snuggling me against his burly frame.

  I am embraced in his arms, looking up into his beautiful aquamarine eyes. I feel him throb against me, a long, thick promise of something which will tear me apart and turn me into something new.

  Danger is all around me. It comes from within this great beast of a god who claims to want to protect my virtue, but seems hungrier for it than any other god I have yet met.

  This is not the Triton I have known all my life. This is a new entity, a god of lust and deep desire.

  His mouth descends on mine, the bristles of his beard scratching my face lightly as he brushes a chaste kiss over my lips.

  “You’ve stopped crying,” he murmurs.

  I half-wonder if he is going to make me start again, if he might enjoy my pain more than he enjoys my smiles. I should be afraid of that, but the thought makes all the private places inside me tighten with anticipation.

  “Lucy!” My name is spoken in two voices by two gods who should not be here.

  My fathers have arrived. At precisely the wrong moment. They’ve come to take me back. They won’t let me stay, no matter how much I argue. I beg Triton to tell them to let me stay with him, but for reasons I do not understand but which hurt to my core, he says his farewells and I depart, sore, sorry, and deeply disappointed.

  And back to the present day…

  There hasn’t been a day that has gone by since Triton laid his hands on me that I haven’t thought about him. I can somehow still feel his palm whipping against my flesh. Even now, I blush with the memory. He laid a chemical imprint on me somewhere so deep I don’t think I would ever be able to erase it even if I wanted to.

  That is why, even though I want to yell and scream and demand to be taken back to the surface, I restrain myself from acting out in a way I know would lead to another one of those shameful altercations which I must lose and he will inevitably win.

  “I’m going to make sure you’re comfortable,” he says. “You’re going to enjoy yourself.”

  “I’m not going to enjoy myself while Okeanus is at war. I’m not that spoiled and selfish.”

  “There is nothing to be gained from being miserable just because others are miserable,” he says calmly. “If you think that way, you’ll be miserable forever.”

  I’m going to be miserable today. There is no way to stop that. There is also no safe way to express it. I want to rage and tantrum. But I don't want Triton to see me doing any of those things.

  He is brutish, but he is also refined. There is a gentility to him which makes me feel ashamed of my temper even before I’ve expressed it. He commands and dominates and controls without lifting a finger. All it takes is a lift from his brow and I very much think twice about expressing my more crude and tempestuous thoughts.

  But this isn’t fair, and he has to know that. What I won’t tell him is that I don’t intend to stay captive here. As soon as I am given the chance, I am going to go to the surface and I am going to prove myself to my family who think they have no use for me.

  I want to cry, but instead, I force a smile on my face. Arguing does nothing and screwing my face up makes it uglier which pretty much decimates my only advantage when it comes to dealing with people.

  My whole life, I’ve been told how pretty I am. I used to think that it mattered, and that it would make me powerful. But it doesn’t. When war comes, pretty means nothing.

  “Come inside,” Triton says, taking my hand and gesturing to the castle which rises in front of us with tall spires and great towers. It is not a building constructed for protection. It is one made for elegance, to inspire a sense of awe. It does that in great measure.

  The sea elves watch me with curious eyes as Triton walks me through the halls and foyers. He has a staff of hundreds. I do not know what they do, but they seem to be both busy and important. Some of them are wearing what might be called regal jewelry, pendants and rings and other fine accoutrements which suggest nobility. They bow to Triton as he passes, some of them making fanciful gestures with their graceful limbs.

  The place I come from seems like a hollow facsimile of this life. The whims of our family are all I am accustomed to thinking about. Here, there are thousands of sea elves, each with their own agendas, wishes, and needs.

  Triton leads me up an opalescent staircase. He holds my hand in a courtly way which makes me feel like a princess, valued and treasured. I like the eyes of the sea elves on me. I can feel them watching me. They must be wondering who I am and why I matter.

  Already, I am starting to enjoy myself. But I cannot allow that to happen. I force myself to remember the war and all the painful separation which goes with it.

  “I have had a chamber prepared for you,” Triton tells me as he leads me toward a fine room. “It adjoins with mine. They call it the princess suite. It was designed in the old times, for the bride of a king.”

  “But the bride of a king is not a princess. That’s a queen.”

  “True. But usually, she is a princess from somewhere before she becomes a queen of here.”

  I look at him, curiously. Is he implying something? Am I down here for some reason other than pure protection?

  I step into the room and find it… practically empty.

  “There’s no bed.”

  "You don’t sleep.”

  “That’s true.”

  “So you don’t need a bed.”

  “There are other uses for beds.”

  “I wouldn’t think you were familiar with them,” Triton says, deadpan. I look at him out of the corner of my eye.

  “I’m familiar with a great many things you might not think I know about.”

  “Is that right.”

  I
find his expression hard to read. Is he surprised? Impressed? Something else entirely?

  I have known Triton all my life, and yet I don't know him at all. When I was very young, he used to growl at us for messing with his water. Then we got older and he taught us to sail — or rather, he taught Raine to sail. I was learning to ride my father’s horses.

  Then something happened. Something changed.

  I guess I changed.

  One day he was terrifying, the next he was desirable.

  He does not have fins or a tail, but somehow he moves through the water just like the sea elves do. He commands the ocean. He can make the water part, send waves many miles high, or he can still the waters and becalm sailors for months or even years at a time, until nothing but their drying skeletons are left on their vessels.

  I know that, because it was a story he told one night in the golden palace. Raine and I weren’t supposed to be listening, but when Ragnar and Helios and the other old gods get together they can’t help but tell one another stories of how awful they were on Earth. None of them were particularly nice or merciful. I remember thinking at the time it was no wonder humans stopped believing in them, but I didn’t say it, because we were small, and nobody listens to small people. We were also supposed to be asleep, and if Ragnar had caught us up one more time, he might have eventually followed through on his threats to discipline us. We were spoiled little princesses back then. I suppose I still am.

  Triton

  She’s mine.

  Lucy is mine.

  And not just for a few hours. She’s mine to keep. It is taking every bit of self control I have to play the courteous host and allow her to acclimate to her new environment. With her teasing, arch comments about knowing what beds are for, I find myself having to fight my base impulses all the more.

  Lucy is beautiful beyond compare. She is a delicate little morsel of humanity trapped in my realm. I have to remember that she is afraid. What is happening outside these waters is unprecedented, but I have to admit that I am not concerned about the minions of Earth. Their attack is impetuous and bold, but it is not surprising to me. Humans have been turning on gods since humans and gods were created.