Knights and Kink Romance Boxed Set (17 page)

I’d never seen such an arousing sight in my
life.

“You did well, Slave,” I said. “Now you will
continue with your shoes and socks, then your trousers. Take your
time,” I ordered. “Make every second as sexy as it can possibly be.
Don’t
disappoint me.”

Rodney obeyed. He deftly untied one brown Italian
wingtip, then the other, treating the shoelaces like tiny, tactile
aphrodisiacs in and of themselves. He stepped out of each shoe with
a sultry swing of his pelvis, which only emphasized the growing
tent at his crotch even more. Then came the socks, which he peeled
off with as much raw bestiality as a python shedding skin. I never
knew until that moment just how sensual footwear could be. And
through it all, Rodney kept his dusky blue eyes locked on mine,
searching for my approval. I made no outer indication that he was
pleasing me, though. I wanted to push him further and further into
his role as my slave. I didn’t plan to stop until I had him
literally on his hands and knees, begging for my touch, groveling
for the soaked glory of my sex.

Once Rodney figured out that he’d get no outer
validation from me for his fetish-inducing foot striptease, he
started in on his trousers. He went for the belt buckle first.
Unlike last night, he was wearing a simple off-the-rack belt with
an ordinary buckle, but you’d never know it from the length of time
he spent unfastening it. He ran his fingertips back and forth, back
and forth along the belt’s edges, making the tiniest, wispy sound
of skin on leather. Then, licking his lips, he pulled on the loose
end of the belt, sliding it between his fingers until it slowly
began to unwind itself from the open end of the brass buckle. He
flipped the belt end forward, loosening it from the buckle prong,
which he plucked with one finger so hard it nearly drew blood. Once
the belt was free of the buckle, he
swished
it out of his
trouser loops in one deft, swift motion, then dropped the belt into
a coil on the floor.

Unfastening his fly was another matter entirely,
since by now the front of his pants might as well have been the big
top for Ringling Brothers. He had to flatten his giant erection
with one hand in order to work the fly buttons with the other. Once
those were free, his giant cock popped through the opening and
pointed due north. He’d gone commando again today, of course. The
glans was purple and glossy with happy juice, and veins stood out
and pulsated all up and down the shaft. Then in a final flourish,
Rodney slowly stepped out of one pants leg, then the other. He
tossed me the empty trousers, and I caught them with one hand.

He looked up and smiled. “I’m naked now,
Mistress.”

“Yes, I see that, Slave. Very nice. Very nice,
indeed.”

Rodney took a small bow. “Thank you, Mistress. I
hope you don’t mind me calling you that.”

“Not at all, Slave.” Boy, was I enjoying this. The
crotch of my teddy was sopping wet; my juices were running so thick
they were starting to trickle down my thighs. I’d managed to turn
the tables of power in my direction without even knowing how. Maybe
Rodney had been right last night when he said I was a “natural.” I
slid into the role of nascent dominatrix as easily as a set of silk
pajamas.

“Now, Slave, you will enter the bath suite.”

He obeyed, padding softly on his bare feet down the
carpeted hall and onto the cool marble floor of the bathroom. Once
there he hesitated and glanced over his shoulder, looking for
further instructions, but I gave none. He took a few more ginger
steps, then stopped once he was about halfway between the
two-person Jacuzzi and the large enclosed shower. I followed him
into the lush room, my eyes scanning the polished marble and shiny
chrome fixtures, my mind running with a hundred different
possibilities for a wet-n-wild good time in here.

“Now what, Mistress?” Rodney asked, his voice
timid.

I stamped my foot, the hard impact of its platform
sole setting off a stir of echoes in the marble chamber. “Slave,
you will
not
speak unless you are spoken to,” I barked. “If
you disobey this order again, there will be consequences.
Severe
consequences. Do you understand?”

Rodney gave me a small nod, followed by a sly smile.
He clearly liked being bossed around and terrorized while
naked.

“Good,” I said, lowering my voice a bit. “Now,
Slave, you will enter the shower.”

He did, leaving the glass door to the enclosed
shower chamber open. He seemed to expect me to follow him in, but I
didn’t. I just slammed the glass shower door shut after him hard
enough to it to rattle hard on its hinges, threatening even to
shatter the glass—though the door stilled to silence at the last
possible second. Rodney instantly jerked to attention, his eyes
wide and glistening.

Ah. So I’d scared him. All the better.

“Slave, you will now turn on the shower,” I ordered.
“Use all the body sprays and the handheld massager. Set the taps
all the way over to COLD.”

At this, Rodney’s eyes flew even wider. But he
complied, and with a grin on his face to boot. He switched on the
rainshower-style overhead shower spigot first, then the
wall-mounted body sprays one by one. He jerked and shivered more
and more as each ice-cold spray hit his body, but he showed no
signs of flinching. In fact, the effect of the cold water on his
powerful frame seemed to have the opposite effect than one might
expect. Instead of the famous “shrinkage” so many men experience
when their bodies are exposed to cold, Rodney’s equipment seemed to
grow longer, thicker and harder the colder his body got. It was
obvious that Rodney got off on the stinging pleasure-pain sensation
of the frigid water as it poured over his rippled, muscular
body.

I was just about to issue my next order when Rodney
read my mind. Without me having to tell him, he instinctively took
the handheld shower massager in one hand, and flicked the small
wall switch that transferred some of the overhead shower spigot’s
water pressure to it. Then he adjusted the massager’s pressure
setting until the water poured out of a single, high-pressure
opening in its middle—its stream now powerful enough to literally
tear into skin. He tested the powerful spray with the palm of his
hand for a moment or two, then held up that palm to show me. The
skin of his palm was bright red, from both the extremely cold water
and the stinging water jets. Rodney shot me a wink, and then I
watched transfixed as Rodney transferred the spray to his
crotch.

I was speechless. I’d planned to just have Rodney
spray his
torso
with the ice-cold water on the much gentler
massage setting. But like a true masochist, he’d gone way over the
top completely on his own.

After almost two full minutes of withstanding the
frigid spray, Rodney’s cock was red, raw—and
huge
. His cock
was now easily the biggest I’d ever seen—and so rock-hard that it
could probably be used as a blunt weapon.

The sight really gave new meaning to the term “stone
cold.” My vag was running like a river at the thought of having
that huge, wet, and
cold
cock deep inside it.

Once, when I was in college, I’d spent a lonely
experimenting in my nether regions with Popsicles. Which, mind you,
had been fun—but a little too cold and sticky for my liking. This,
however, looked like a perfect blend of hot and cold in all the
right places.

Time to get busy.

I took a tiny step towards Rodney, swaying and
sashaying my hips. Then another step, then another. I inched my way
to the shower stall this way, moving my body like an exotic
dancer’s. I flung open the dripping shower door, placed my hands on
my hips, and cocked my head. “That was quite a maneuver you just
pulled, Slave,” I purred. “Tell me something. How did you know that
I liked watching a man freeze himself solid?”

Rodney snickered. “Oh, just a hunch, Mistress.”

Rodney’s eyes were traveling up and down my body,
and they came to rest on my sex. The dark triangle of my pubis was
clearly visible through the red lace. But as much as my sex was
screaming for Rodney’s dick to fill it, I wasn’t going to let him
anywhere near there just yet. I had other business to take care of
first. “Slave, your next task will be to lick the dried-up drops of
port you spilled from my legs and feet. Once you have done this,
you will turn the cold water back onto your cock until I tell you
to stop. Do you understand? Will you be able to accomplish this to
my satisfaction?”

He grinned a mile wide. “Yes, Mistress. And believe
me, I’m looking forward to every bit of it.” But instead of
carrying out my orders, he looked at me expectantly, waiting for my
next set of instructions.

I took the cue. “Slave, you must get on your hands
and knees and lick my feet and legs from the floor. Start with the
left foot and leg, and when it’s clean, go to the right. Don’t
rush.”

Rodney’s lowered eyelids fluttered, and he licked
his lips. “Yes, Mistress. Your wish is my command.” He kneeled down
in front of me, and began to lick the splatters of port from my
shins with the tip of his tongue. The feeling was pure tasty bliss
on my damp, sticky skin. He took his time, savoring every drop of
spilled port, which had become flavored with the salty taste of my
sweat. Once he’d licked my left shin and knee clean, he unstrapped
my left shoe, slipped it off, and started in on my left foot,
beginning with the heel and arch. The sensation of his wet tongue
on the sole of my foot was like the ultimate foot massage, sending
electric jolts straight up my leg that landed in my cunt. When the
sole of the left foot was wiped clean and slick with Rodney’s
saliva, he moved on to the spaces between my toes, making a point
of sucking on each toe individually as if they were pieces of sweet
hard candy. By the time his mouth reached my big toe, my sex was
wide open and puffy as a beach ball.

Rodney polished off my left foot by lapping away at
the drops of port that had dried on my instep. By now, he was
half-drunk with port and arousal.He gently set my bare foot on the
floor, and went to work unstrapping my right stiletto. He gave my
right shin and foot the same treatment he had my left. When he
finished, he rested back on his haunches, anxiously waiting my next
command.

“That was very good work, Slave,” I purred. “Now,
you need to cool things down a bit down south.”

Without a word, Rodney switched the handheld water
massager back onto his equipment, keeping the taps on their coldest
setting. But instead of just using the massager, he flicked a
series of switches until all the body sprays and overhead rain
shower were all spewing ice-cold water onto his entire body. He
gritted his teeth and tried hard not to shiver underneath the
frigid waterfall, which had to be excruciating. But it was obvious
that the man loved nothing more than a bit of exotic torture—his
cock got still harder and thicker, and his balls drew themselves up
and back, just about to blow their load. My cunt melted like a
stick of butter in anticipation of what was to come. I even longed
to push the envelope just a bit further.

But that just wasn’t practical. No matter how much I
might get off on watching the man torture himself, he was way too
close to the edge for me to keep going this way. It was high time
to get down to business.

Rodney had been a very good slave. And now, it was
time for his reward.

“You have been a good and obedient Slave,” I said,
borrowing a line from the great Mistress Violet. “And now, we shall
screw.”

I reached out and grabbed Rodney’s hands. I pulled
his chilled, dripping body to me, then pressed my body against his.
His huge member thrust itself into the space between my thighs, and
its purple, swollen head knocked itself against the entrance to my
sex. His cock was like a block of dry ice—its frigid tip banged
against my wide-open cunt and I yelped.

Rodney delighted in this, then reached around,
grabbed my bare buttocks, and squeezed. “Mistress, may I speak
freely?” he whispered in my right ear.

I ran my fingernails up and down his back, hard
enough to leave marks. “Yes, of course, Slave,” I whispered back.
“Go ahead.”

“What do you say we chuck this whole
dominatrix-slave thing now and just have a good old-fashioned
fuck?”

I threw my head back and laughed. “Sounds
fabulous.”

I guided Rodney’s hands to the tiny crotch of my now
very damp G-string, which he slid to one side. I lifted my right
leg and wrapped it around his ice-cold, dripping waist, giving him
plenty of room to push in his giant cock. He slid inside my sheath
easily—and the feel of his frigid, chilled-out cock inside my
red-hot vag was the most delectable combo of fire and ice
imaginable. The sound of my juices sluicing against his swollen
member filled the room, and were accented by the tinny chimes of
the Chinese balls as they waltzed around in my vag in time to each
thrust.

We stayed that way for several minutes, until I was
so breathless and turned on that I could barely stay upright.
Sensing this, Rodney picked me up, wrapped my left leg around his
waist to match the right one, and carried me out of the bath suite,
down the hall, and into his bedroom that way until we reached his
enormous four-poster bed—never once stopping his thrusts or pulling
out of my cunt. He finally set me down on the edge of the bed, and
looped my ankles around his neck to give him and his dick the best
possible viewing angle of my vag.

“Look down, Jasmine,” he breathed between thrusts.
“Look at what we’re doing to each other.”

I did. My vag and labia were splayed wide open, red,
and glistening with my nectar and cream. My sex was swollen to at
least three times its normal size, like a giant, night-blossoming
magnolia. And it had to be to accommodate Rodney’s cock, which
itself had swollen to even more gargantuan proportions.He moved his
cock in and out of me all the way each time, giving me a glimpse of
its purple, shiny tip and bursting foreskin with each and every
movement. My clit had retreated up underneath its little hood, but
was so sensitized it could still register even the tiniest
sensations, like the stir of the air caused above it by Rodney’s
breathing and thrusting.