Chapter Text
The morning sun, still low in the sky, streamed through the tall windows of the palace, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. A few days had passed since Ariel’s peculiar introduction to the word “spanking,” and the novelty of it, far from fading, had only grown more potent in her curious mind. She’d spent the intervening hours plotting, her inner mermaid devising ways to recreate that delightful, tingling warmth.
Eric, oblivious to the storm of mischief brewing in his wife’s head, strode into his study, a crisp morning breeze ruffling the papers on his desk. He had an important meeting with a delegation from a neighboring kingdom, and he needed to review his notes. He paused, however, the moment he crossed the threshold.
His usually meticulously organized study, a haven of maps, scrolls, and weighty tomes, had undergone a rather… vibrant transformation. The globe was adorned with a jaunty crown of seaweed, still glistening with seawater. His inkwell, a stern brass affair, now sported a tiny, meticulously crafted shell hat. And his briefing notes, which he’d left stacked neatly, were now scattered across the floor, each page decorated with crude but enthusiastic drawings of various sea creatures, all wearing tiny, bewildered expressions. In the center of his desk, where his quill usually rested, was a small, rather lopsided sandcastle.
“Ariel?” he called out, a smile already tugging at his lips. He knew instantly who the culprit was. No one else in the palace possessed such a unique flair for interior decoration, especially not with organic marine materials.
A small giggle echoed from behind the heavy velvet curtains. He walked over, pulling them back to reveal Ariel, perched on a window seat, trying (and failing) to look innocent. A smear of sand adorned her cheek, and a stray piece of kelp was tangled in her fiery hair.
“Good morning, Eric,” she chirped, her eyes wide and innocent, though a tell-tale sparkle betrayed her.
He surveyed the scene again, then looked back at her, shaking his head. A deep, rumbling laugh began in his chest and burst forth, filling the room.
“My dear, what in the seven seas have you done to my study?”
“I was helping!” she declared, sliding off the window seat and approaching him, her hands clasped behind her back. “It looked so… serious. And dusty. Now it’s much more… lively!” She gestured expansively with a sandy hand, narrowly missing his nose.
He chuckled again, picking up a drawing of a particularly grumpy-looking crab wearing a monocle, drawn on what appeared to be his trade agreements.
“Lively, indeed. I’m not sure the delegates will appreciate a detailed diagram of a sea cucumber’s digestive system accompanying my proposal for new shipping routes.”
Ariel pouted, a calculated expression designed to elicit a specific response.
“But sea cucumbers are very interesting! And the seaweed crown for the globe makes it look much more regal.” She paused, then added, with a hopeful glint in her eye, “I thought you might find it… naughty.”
Eric knelt, picking up a few more of his defaced documents, still chuckling.
“Naughty? My love, it’s certainly… unorthodox. I’d say it’s more wonderfully absurd than naughty. You’re lucky I find it charming.” He straightened up, setting the papers aside. “Now, I have to try and salvage these before my meeting. Perhaps you could find something else to ‘help’ with?”
Ariel’s shoulders slumped. He wasn’t getting it. She’d gone to all this effort, even managed to find a particularly slimy piece of kelp for the globe, and he was just… laughing. She needed to escalate.
She narrowed her eyes, then spotted his neatly folded royal tunic, laid out on a chair for his meeting. In a swift, almost predatory move, she darted towards it. With a mischievous snip-snip from a pair of embroidery scissors she’d ‘borrowed’ from the seamstress, she snipped off one of the ornate, golden tassels from the tunic’s epaulet. It fell to the floor with a soft thud.
Eric’s laughter died in his throat. He stared at the tassel on the floor, then at the now-lopsided tunic, then at Ariel, who stood frozen, the scissors still clutched in her hand, a look of wide-eyed, exaggerated guilt plastered on her face.
A beat of silence. Then, a slow smile spread across his face, a knowing glint entering his eyes. He finally understood.
“Ah,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, playful growl. “So that’s what this is about, isn’t it, little mermaid?”
Ariel’s pout transformed into a triumphant grin. She nodded vigorously, dropping the scissors with a quiet clink.
“You’ve been a very bad girl, haven’t you?” he continued, his eyes twinkling. He walked towards her, his movements slow and deliberate, a predator scenting its prey, but with a smile that promised only delightful trouble. “First, the defiling of royal documents and the general chaos of my study. And now, an act of outright sabotage on my formal attire.” He reached for her, his hands firm as he took her by the waist.
Ariel giggled, a breathless sound of pure anticipation.
“I thought it would be more… persuasive.”
“Oh, it’s persuasive, alright,” he murmured, a deep chuckle rumbling in his chest. He led her back towards the window seat, the same one she’d been hiding behind moments earlier. “Come here, you little rascal.”
He sat down, pulling her across his lap, her nightgown-clad bottom once again presented to him. This time, there was no initial shyness, just a joyful anticipation. She buried her face in the plush velvet cushion, a soft thump as her body settled, her legs dangling slightly over the side. The familiar, exciting vulnerability of the position made her squirm with suppressed glee.
“Now, let’s see,” Eric began, his voice taking on that familiar, authoritative-yet-teasing tone that sent delightful shivers down her spine. His hand hovered over her bottom, a warm presence through the fabric of her nightgown. “First, for the royal documents and the general redecoration of my study, which, while amusing, is certainly not conducive to international diplomacy.”
Whap! Whap!
Two sharp, firm taps landed, causing Ariel to gasp, a surprised sound that quickly morphed into a giggle. The sting was immediate, a warm blush spreading across her bottom. She wiggled, her shoulders shaking with laughter.
“Then,” he continued, his voice laced with mock severity, “there’s the matter of the royal globe now wearing a rather fetching but entirely inappropriate seaweed crown.”
Whap! Whap! Whap!
Three quick, rhythmic smacks followed. Ariel let out a high-pitched squeak, her body bouncing slightly with each impact. The sensation was a delightful thrum, building with each tap, leaving a pleasant warmth in its wake.
“And finally,” he declared, his hand pausing, “for the blatant act of tailoring, or rather un-tailoring, my ceremonial tunic. That, Ariel, is a serious offense.”
Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap!
Five firm, resonant smacks landed in rapid succession, a final flourish to her playful punishment. Ariel gasped, a long, drawn-out sound, her breath catching in her throat. Her legs kicked slightly, and she squeezed her eyes shut, a wide, triumphant grin stretching across her face. The warmth on her bottom was now a distinct heat, a delicious, lingering tingle that sent a rush of exhilaration through her.
Eric’s hand settled flat against her bottom, rubbing slow, soothing circles, easing the lingering sting.
“Feeling sufficiently disciplined, my little troublemaker?” he murmured, his voice thick with amusement.
Ariel slowly lifted her head, turning to look at him, her face flushed and her eyes sparkling.
“Mmm-hmm,” she hummed, a soft, contented sound. “It was very… effective.”
He chuckled, pulling her up and into a sitting position on his lap, facing him. Her arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, and she nestled her head against his shoulder. He held her close, pressing a kiss into her hair.
“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” he said, his voice warm and tender. “Now, I have a meeting to attend, and you, my dear, are going to the village today, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she confirmed, a happy sigh escaping her.
“Good,” he said, pulling back slightly to look at her, his eyes twinkling with a final warning. “Because if I hear of any more mischief from you today – any misplaced items, any unsolicited redecorations, or especially any more damage to royal attire – you’ll face the very same fate, young lady. Understood?”
Ariel giggled, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.
“Understood, Your Highness.”
He gave her a theatrical glare, then a quick, playful pop landed on her bottom as she slid off his lap.
“Now off with you,” he commanded playfully. “And try to be good… for at least an hour.”
Ariel laughed, a bright, clear sound, as she skipped out of the study, a delightful tingle still warming her bottom. Eric watched her go, shaking his head with a fond smile, before turning to face the daunting task of salvaging his briefing notes and, perhaps, finding a spare tunic. He just hoped the foreign delegates appreciated the avant-garde aesthetic of a single, lonely golden tassel.