Page 37 of Primal Bond

No slave should dare speak without permission, especially to challenge another owner.

Finn, what have you done…?

Yaren’s expression morphed into one of delight, as if he had just uncovered a hidden gem. “Your pet doesn't know his place, Zanik!” Yaren challenged, the gleam in his eye pleased he’d found a weakness to exploit. “Are you going to let him get away with that?”

Zanik’s pulse quickened. He assessed the situation, scanning the faces of the other patrons, the way they leaned in, curious for a show.

There was no way out of this, now. The rest of the club had heard Finn speak out of line, mouthing off to a Borraq.

Zanik needed to discipline him. If he didn't…

He could already see the curiosity in Yaren's eyes. He was suspicious, and Zanik's reaction would test whatever theories were developing in his wretched little mind.

“Silence,” Zanik commanded Finn, his voice low but firm. The boy’s expression shifted, realizing what he'd done. Fear washed over him, visible in his expressive face.

Damn it all.

Zanik took a breath, forcing down the instinct to protect Finn, to shield him from the fallout of this misstep. He needed to think strategically. Yaren had managed to maneuver him into a corner, and the dullard was enjoying it far too much. The way Yaren grinned, reveling in his perceived superiority, made Zanik murderous.

He looked down at Finn, who was wide-eyed and pale, a flush of panic creeping across his features. The boy’s fear was real, and Zanik felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him, mingled with the frustration of being outplayed. He needed to regain control of the situation, to turn the tables. Yaren’s arrogance was a crack in the façade, and Zanik would exploit it. He could feel the tension simmering, the anticipation of the crowd thickening around them.

“Get up,” Zanik commanded, his voice low and steady. Finn hesitated, his expression flickering between defiance and terror.

Yaren, with his smug grin, called over a nearby club servant. “Bring some disciplinary tools,” he said, reveling in his position.

Zanik’s patience snapped. “I don’t needtoysto discipline what’s mine,” he cut in sharply, letting a hint of menace lace his words. The change in his tone darkened Yaren’s expression, his smugness souring into something closer to irritation.

Finn’s eyes darted between them, fear palpable in the way he held his breath. Zanik leaned back in his seat, feigning nonchalance. He pointed at his lap, a deliberate display of control. “Lie down,” he ordered, his voice firm, unyielding.

Finn’s shoulders tensed, his reluctance clear, but he complied, awkwardly getting onto Zanik’s lap, the press of his body light across Zanik's thighs. Zanik felt the warmth radiate from Finn’s body, an intoxicating mix of vulnerability and defiance. He could feel Finn’s heartbeat, quick and nervous.

Zanik smirked at Yaren, the tension in the air shifting. “It's true — my pet is a brat,” he declared, his voice smug but edged with authority. “An untrained pup! Always barking, trying to push his luck.”

Finn's body stiffened momentarily, but Zanik traced a line down his spine with a firm hand. The gesture appeared possessive from the outside, a claim on Finn that the surrounding Borraq would recognize, but it was also a quiet check-in, a way to communicate that Zanik knew what he was doing.

Finn turned his face down against the chair's fabric, his breath hitching slightly. From the outside, it would look like obedience — but Zanik felt the soft vibration of the silent laugh that echoed against his thigh. The trembling that had coursed through Finn subsided, the fear gradually replaced by something else.

Zanik locked eyes with Yaren, whose smirk was fading. “Trust me, Yaren — I know how to punish those who disobey me.”

Chapter eighteen

With a quick, decisive motion, Zanik brought his palm down on Finn's backside. The sound echoed sharply, and Finn yelped, the surprise cutting through the haze of tension that had enveloped them.

Zanik controlled the strength of his spanks, focusing on creating a sting that would linger but not bruise. He noted the way Finn's body reacted, how the boy squirmed, each smack eliciting a mixture of shock and something deeper.

Zanik brought his hand down again, the sharp crack echoing through the club. Finn let out a whine, his body jerking against Zanik's lap.

"You insolent brat," Zanik growled, his voice low and menacing. "How dare you speak out of turn? Is this how you represent me?"

Another smack landed, and Finn whimpered. Zanik felt the boy's muscles tense, then relax as the sting spread acrosshis skin. The club's patrons watched with approval, their eyes gleaming with a mix of curiosity and cruel amusement.

They didn't notice how Finn's shoulders weren't shaking from fear. Zanik felt Finn's huff of secret laughter as he hid his true reaction from the onlookers, burying his face in his arms.

Zanik leaned in close, his breath hot against Finn's ear. "You'll learn your place, pet."

As the spanking continued, Finn's reactions began to shift. His initial shock gave way to a deeper response. His breathing grew ragged, and Zanik felt the subtle roll of Finn's hips against his thigh.

"Have you learned your lesson yet?" Zanik demanded, punctuating his words with another sharp slap.

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