“What good would getting angry do? The rumor is already out there. It won’t disappear.”

“So you’re really not upset?”

“No, I’m not.”

Aslan took her by the wrist and pulled her along. Was he truly fine with it? Freya tilted her head and followed his lead.

Aslan undressed her and swallowed down his discomfort.

‘If she runs off, I’m the one who loses out.’

She came to see him after half a month. She said she liked him, then went completely silent for two weeks.

Was the confession a lie? Was there another man? Every kind of thought churned through his head.

She would never know how much his emotions raged while he waited.

If he weren’t a hostage, he could at least have demanded answers. Being able to do nothing but wait for her to show up made the frustration all the worse.

She, on the other hand, was free. In action and in feeling, she was completely unrestrained.

Freya’s freedom bordered on recklessness. She might burn bright like a flame and cool just as fast.

If he made a show of anger to correct her behavior, she would fly off like a migratory bird.

‘Now is not the time to be angry.’

Aslan knew how to wait for the right moment.

A hunter needed patience. He couldn’t afford to act rashly.

He would offer just enough of a reward to keep her coming back to him.

A sinister gleam passed through his eyes as he looked down at Freya, who followed along without a clue.

***

Freya sat neatly on top of the desk, swinging her legs like she was splashing in water. Moonlight poured through the wide-open window and lit up her bare white skin.

Her skin looked like smoothly fired porcelain.

“How many chapters are we going to try tonight?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said it before. That what we did that day was only the first chapter.”

Aslan swallowed the saliva pooling under his tongue. He watched her ask so naturally, his expression unreadable.

She was brazenly shameless, yet somehow she looked innocent. He couldn’t figure it out.

“Shall we make some more progress today?”

“Sure.”

“Then from now on, you do as I say. Would you try calling me Teacher?”

Freya nodded right away, then pulled her lips back.

“But Your Highness only just lost your virginity. I think I should be the teacher.”

“The one with more knowledge is the teacher.”

“…Your Highness may be physically pure, but your mind is thoroughly worn down. How can that be called purity?”

“I never said I was pure.”

Well, whatever. Freya shrugged, letting go of her desire to seize the upper hand.

“So what should I do now, Teacher?”

“Before the lesson begins, you need to be punished first.”

“Punished? Why?”

Aslan flicked her round little nose with his index finger. Freya startled and tucked her neck in like a turtle.

“Because you did something wrong. You were late to class, and you spread an unflattering rumor, didn’t you?”

What? He said he was fine with it. What a liar. She pouted and shot him a sideways glare.

Freya made her defiance known with her whole body, so Aslan dangled his carrot.

“What, you don’t want to? A fun lesson is waiting for you after the punishment.”

It was hard to refuse. The way his eyes creased at the corners was so captivating.

Freya nodded with a dazed look on her face, and Aslan’s throat bobbed up and down.

“Then you need to get into position for your punishment. Get up on the desk, kneel, and sit.”

She climbed up onto the desk and knelt, hesitantly. The position was so awkward and uncomfortable that her toes curled and her bottom fidgeted.

‘Have I ever knelt before anyone in my life? I was never even scolded badly by my parents.’

When she did something wrong, the most she got was an annoying earful.

She grew up so cherished and pampered, and now here she was, n*ked and kneeling before a man she once considered beneath her.

It was humiliating and wounded her pride, and yet her lower belly tingled at the same time.

“Lift your head.”

Freya raised her chin. She felt like a prisoner bound in rope.

How dare he make her feel this way. She had every reason to be furious, but the reward waiting for her afterward kept her in check.

Aslan took his time studying the curves of her waist and hips, the rise and fall of her chest with each breath, the deep hollow of her collarbones.

Looking at her beautiful bare body was pleasant enough, but watching her flush with wounded pride and obey his commands was even more satisfying.

The defiance showed in the flat line of her pressed lips and the twitch of her brows.

The mere fact that the arrogant, insolent woman was suppressing her pride was almost enough to make him come.

He wanted to take out his swollen, aching c*ck and rub it against her. Press it against her br*asts, her thighs, her lips.

But that would undermine a teacher’s authority. He pushed his own desire aside.

“Turn around.”

“…Like this?”

Her legs were already going numb anyway. Freya quickly turned and braced her hands against the desk.

Her full bottom filled his view. Aslan’s throat went dry in an instant.

He knew exactly how soft it was. The feel of it kept him from sleeping for nights on end, and the memory was still vivid.

“How many hits will it take before you feel sorry for what you did?”

She was going to spank her? Freya rolled her eyes left and right and thought it over.

She would keep her mouth shut from now on, and getting hit too many times might hurt, so…

“One?”

“……”

“Then, two?”

“Let’s make it three.”

Freya dropped her head with a sulky expression.

Surely he wouldn’t actually do it? Even as she stuck her bottom out, she wasn’t fully convinced.

The hand that gently stroked her bottom lifted into the air. His palm came down with a smack, and Freya’s back arched up.

“Ah!”

He actually did it! The sharp pain made her eyes go wide. She turned to look back at him, betrayal written all over her face.

“One.”

Aslan smiled at her, watching her flustered reaction.

“W, wait a moment.”

Before she could stop him, his palm came down on the other side.

Thwack! This time it was harder. Both cheeks were now flushed red.

Her elbows buckled and her back bent forward. Her posture collapsed and she lay flat against the desk, crying out.

“That hurts…!”

“One more.”

“No, I want to stop. I said I wouldn’t do it again! And you said you were fine with it…”

She whimpered and whined like a child. Aslan let his brows droop and clicked his tongue.

He stroked her reddened bottom to soothe her.

“Does it hurt a lot?”

“Of course it hurts! Hitting me that hard, that’s too much… I want to go home. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

She sniffled and her shoulders trembled, and something in him softened. Just two hits and her skin was already flushed red. He realized how sensitive she was.

‘I didn’t think it would hurt her this much.’

A memory of his own childhood surfaced. A few smacks on the bottom barely counted as a scolding to him. Being punished was just part of daily life.

When he coveted something that belonged to his older brother, or scored better than him, his father beat him. When he fell short of his brother, his mother beat him.

Not that he was raised with any particular strictness. Discipline in Ingrone was generally harsh for children.

A parent beating a child they owned raised no objections from anyone.

But unlike him, Freya clearly wasn’t used to being hit.

Did people in Vaigon not hit their children? Was that why Freya turned out the way she did?

The sight of her pouting with reddened eyes was rather adorable. Not a trace remained of the confident, haughty girl she usually was.

Tearing up over something this small. All that boldness from before suddenly seemed almost laughable.

“Freya.”

“What? Don’t talk to me. I’m leaving.”

Aslan wrapped his arm around her waist as she tried to rise from the desk. He pulled her against his chest from behind, buried his face in the back of her neck, and whispered gently.

“Shall we call the punishment done?”

“……”

“Only the fun part is left now. Are you really going to leave?”

His hand slid between her legs like a snake.

Her pride stung and her bottom ached. So why was her heart racing with anticipation and her mouth going dry?

‘I think I’m turned on.’

Freya pressed her lips shut and swallowed the m*an trying to escape.

The hand that rubbed her between her legs was brought up in front of her face.

His fingertips were slick with moisture. He rubbed the glistening fl*id between his index finger and thumb.

“Why are you this wet? The lesson hasn’t even started.”

“…I don’t know.”

Why was she wet? It wasn’t like being hit felt good. Freya flushed and turned her head away.

She felt a vibration against the back of her neck. It seemed like he was laughing at her for being dishonest, and her brow furrowed.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Because it’s funny.”

“……”

“You’re easy, reckless, and a little sulky. I think that might be cute. Something must be wrong with my eyes.”

You think a few compliments will win me over? I’ve heard more than enough of being called cute and pretty.

Freya scoffed. But when she came back to her senses, she was already lying on the bed.

She did as Aslan told her, gripping the backs of her knees to hold her legs up and spreading herself open. She felt no shame anymore.

Something was definitely wrong with her head.

***

Aslan seemed fascinated by how a woman’s body differed from a man’s.

He studied her between her legs, then pulled her folds apart to either side. The sensation of being stretched felt like she might tear, and Freya pressed her thighs together.

“Keep your legs held up.”

“Ngh, that’s because you’re pulling there.”

“Does it hurt?”

“It doesn’t hurt, but… it feels strange.”

“I heard that rubbing a spot the size of a bean feels good.”