Lord Weller's Lash

Lord Weller's Lash (1/2)
by Tsutsuji
Fandom: Kyo Kara Maou!
Characters/Pairing: Yozak, Conrad, Belar, Lanzhil. Conrad/Yozak
Warnings: AU, bdsm, yaoi, corporal punishment, angst
Word count: around 4000 total
Disclaimer: Characters and settings are the property of Tomo Takabayashi and associates, and Tsutsuji is just a pervy fangirl who's not making any money off of this.

Summary: In an alternate KKM timeline, Yozak pays dearly for displeasing his Master, Lord Weller of Shimaron, in front of the King.

Note: Inspired by the KKM kinkmeme request for "Conrad & Yozak: Master & Servant. Extra points for sadistic Conrad." Further inspired by Terraharpel's fanart "Forgotten" - although my explanation for Yozak's situation is very different from hers. ^^ And, I apologize for the wince-worthy title.

~~

Yozak knew it was a bad idea even before he stumbled and dropped the tray of after-dinner drinks in Prince Lanzhil's lap. It was worth it, though, just to see his Master's honored guest flail in shock and discomfort and to hear the pompous little curly-haired wimp's incoherent yelps of outrage. Regret only set in a second later, during the heartbeat-long glimpse he had of Lord Weller's furious face before the back of a hand sent him sprawling sideways.

He had enough sense to let himself fall to his knees and stay there, but not enough to keep his head down and his mouth shut.

"Oh, sorry, sir, must've tripped on the carpet..." he said with exaggerated innocence, as if he only just noticed he'd done something not quite right.

That earned him another slap, which was no less than he expected, but when he heard Belar's twitter of laughter in the background, he finally realized he might have pushed things a little too far. It was never his intention to provide entertainment for that prick-head King, even if he was Lord Weller's most honored royal guest.

"Oops," he muttered under his breath. He risked a peek up at Lord Weller's face and saw hard brown eyes narrow.

Yozak dropped his head quickly, going down onto his elbows so far that his hair was on the carpet.

"I'm truly sorry, Master," he said more soberly. "Please allow me to -"

"You've done quite enough, Yozak," Lord Weller snapped.

Yozak stifled a sigh at his own stupidity. He hadn't heard that much anger in his Master's voice in a long time, and no wonder, given the circumstances. It couldn't be helped, though. He'd had to do something to shut up that slimy worm of a king's nephew when he'd overheard his leering whisper to another guest, describing in crude detail what he'd like to do to "this half-breed Weller cur."

But, naturally, his Master wouldn't be much impressed by his intended act of loyalty even if he knew the real reason for it, only by the fact that he'd disrupted the gathering, upset one of his royal guests, and given Belar something to snicker about. A Lord who couldn't manage his crude, unruly half-blood servant could hardly be qualified to rule the country, no matter his illustrious Weller lineage nor how well he'd led his troops into battle against the Demon Tribe - or so they would whisper behind their hands at court after this.

No, he was wrong about that, he found out a second later. Belar, the pig, was not even polite enough to whisper.

"What were you saying a moment ago, Lord Weller, about having him perfectly trained to your satisfaction? It appears that discipline is rather lacking in the Weller household after all," the king said, sounding all too cheerful to make this observation. "You really should reconsider my offer, and give him to me for further training -"

Yozak's head shot up. Horrified, he caught sight of Belar's face in time to see a leering grin widen into even more disgusting laughter. "Oh, he looks as if he already knows how much more thorough his training will be in my hands!"

Yozak dropped his head again, feeling his face burn with shock and shame as he realized, finally, just what he'd managed to do. As bad as it was on its own, appparently his reckless moment of "clumsiness" could not have been more poorly timed. The revelation that Belar wanted his Master to give him away was not even as horrifying as the fact that his bad behavior had mocked Lord Weller's own words. A fine way to repay the man who had risked status and reputation by sparing the life of a single half-breed orphan left in the ruins of a nameless village.

"That - won't be necessary, Your Highness," Lord Weller said, smoothly dropping his tone from angry to placating. "Although I greatly appreciate your generous offer, you shouldn't trouble yourself with such a trifling matter."

Yozak heard the smile in his voice - a dangerous sound. Belar snorted with displeasure, and Lanzhil muttered something in a derisive tone.

"Rather," Lord Weller spoke up again, "if you'll allow me, perhaps I may take this opportunity to entertain Your Highness with a demonstration of the thoroughness of my discipline."

Yozak's skin prickled and his breath seemed to drop right out of his chest. From the moment he decided to drop the drinks on Lanzhil, he'd fully expected to be disciplined quite thoroughly indeed by his Master, but not until later. He never expected his punishment to become part of the evening's entertainment.

Belar gave no answer, but he heard Lanzhil murmur in anticipation, and he had to assume that the king had nodded his approval. He didn't look up again to check. He was certain one more glimpse of Belar's ugly, wizened face would be enough to make him ill.

"Yozak." Lord Weller's voice, firm and much quieter than before, made his breath catch again. Cautiously, he raised his head enough to look up at his Master. Lord Weller was smiling pleasantly down on him. Under the circumstances, that was not a relief.

"Up on your knees and into position, Yozak," Lord Weller said.

Yozak tried to reply with the proper humility, but his mouth had gone dry suddenly. He pushed back onto his knees and knelt upright, then raised his arms to lock his fingers together behind his head, elbows pointed forward. Lord Weller stopped him with a touch on his shoulder that almost made him jump.

"Your shirt, Yozak. I'd rather not have it sliced to ribbons, if you don't mind. And turn and face your King."

That was the last thing Yozak wanted to do, but his quick, pleading glance was met with an icy smile. He slipped out of the embroidered silk tunic he'd been given to wear while serving Lord Weller's guests, then turned so that he was facing toward Belar, keeping his eyes lowered.

Lord Weller had stepped away to retrieve the instrument of his punishment, and now Yozak felt the tip of the small lash's handle under his chin, nudging his face upward.

"You will keep your eyes humbly on our King, and you will no more than blink until I allow you to do otherwise. Is this clear?" Lord Weller said quietly.

Yozak tried to swallow past the tightness in his throat, and nodded. The instruction was also clear enough to Belar, who smiled broadly, obviously pleased with this added twist. No doubt he assumed that either Lord Weller's blows would be too mild to make the demand a challenge, or that Yozak's gaze would falter, in either case demonstrating that Lord Weller was not in thorough control of his servant.

Well, he was going to be proven wrong on both counts. Yozak would not let his Master down on his side, and he could tell that Lord Weller was in no mood to be gentle.

It was all he could do not to curl his lip in distaste while staring at Belar, and even more so when Lanzhil placed himself close enough to the King to be in his line of vision as well. They murmured and nodded with raised eyebrows as they looked him over like meat at a market, and his skin crawled at the thought of Belar's "offer" to train him. Or, he thought, perhaps they were impressed by the marks still visible from another recent "punishment" at his Master's hands. That was fine; they did not need to know that the circumstances on that occasion had been entirely different than this, or anything about the other ways he was accustomed to please his Master.

Watching the two of them grin and leer like demented apes was worse torture than the lash - for the first few strokes, at least.

Ah, but he should have known better by now; Lord Weller's first strokes were always deceptively light as he stretched his arm and steadied his aim. The third one, a slice straight down across Yozak's left shoulder, made him swallow his breath, and Lord Weller didn't give him much time to catch it again before laying another across his right shoulder.

Before long, Yozak's breath was in tatters, unable to keep time with Lord Weller's strokes and the swelling surges of pain they brought. He stared at Belar but tried not to see him, and instead tried to imagine what Belar must be seeing: Lord Weller's stern face intent on the task, the fluid strength of his master swordsman's body as he landed each stroke with precision. He couldn't shift his gaze, not even to glance up when his Master moved around in front of him to strike a few swift blows across his chest, but he could picture how sleek and stern he must look in his formal dress uniform as he raised the whip. That vision alone was enough to distract his mind a little from the pain, but when he thought of the way his Master usually delivered such punishment - shirtless and gleaming with exertion, hard muscles rippling with carefully controlled power - the burning in his skin mingled with another kind of heat in the core of his body. He was glad that at least Belar did not have the privilege of seeing that glorious sight.

He kept his eyes on Belar's face, trying to ignore the glitter of heat in the king's eyes or the way he licked his lips like the snake he was as his gaze drifted from himself to Lord Weller and back again. Through the bite of the lash, Yozak kept control of his gaze and - with steadily increasing difficulty - kept his arms up where they belonged, but he could not stop the increasingly sharp cries that escaped his mouth as the flogging continued. The king seemed to enjoy hearing those sounds forced from him, but he thought he saw Belar's leer falter, his brows drawn down into a scowl as if he was reluctantly impressed and eventually disappointed when Yozak remained steadfast in his position.

Not for you, you slimy Human bastard, Yozak thought fiercely, his loyalty to Lord Weller burning in his chest as hotly as the strokes from the lash burned on his skin. Only for my Master...

It was a relief, in a way, when the king became nothing more than a blur seen through a haze of pain. The rhythm of Lord Weller's strokes had become his breath and his heartbeat, and when the next blow didn't fall as expected, he gasped in a sort of panic, and felt himself falling as if his heart had stopped.

Something caught him before his face hit the floor; Lord Weller's arm across his chest and his heated weight against his side, and then there were other hands catching him by the arms. He blinked and saw the groom and another servant standing over him on either side.

"Take him below, bind him and leave him," Lord Weller ordered. "He can wait there until I decide to complete his punishment."

Yozak desperately wanted to resist; he was meant to stay and serve Lord Weller, and he hated the thought of leaving him alone for the rest of the evening with the king and his scheming cohorts. He'd been prepared for any other punishment, but he hadn't thought it would lead to this - unknown hours of solitude, the worst punishment his Master could chose to give him.

Before he could so much as groan in protest, he felt his Master's arm tighten briefly around his shoulder.

"You've done well," Lord Weller whispered in his ear. "I will attend to you later."

Yozak's thoughts of protest vanished like smoke, and meekly he let the other servants bring him to his feet and lead him away. To have earned those words from his Master was worth far more than the burn of a dozen lashes searing his chest and back. Even the pain seemed to fall away under a hazy cloud of pride and relief, tinged with a anticipation. He almost decided that dumping a tray of drinks on Prince Lanzhil might not have been such a terrible idea after all.

(tbc)