Page 66 of The Kingdom of Flames

“May I?”

Tristien glowered at her. “May I what?”

“May I, Tristien?”

“Yes.”

Celestine shuddered under his praise. The carriage bobbed along. She lifted his massive pale cock. He lengthened and grew harder in her hand.

“Several loops,” Tristien commanded. “Stroke it slightly. No. No. Listen to me. Higher, yes, there.”

Celestine slowly slid his skin back and forth from the middle of his shaft. It was so thick, so long, the pink head of him appeared and disappeared as she stroked, finally pulling his skin down, so soft in its membrane. She held it up and looped the ribbon once, twice, then three times at the base.

“Tighter, slave.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I am not sir. I am a Lord of Summer, the season itself. My very name is respect. Now say it.”

“Yes,” Celestine groaned. “Tristien. My season.”

The final loop she tightened harshly. His cock swelled, growing darker, firmer.

“Are you alright, Celestine? Am I being too harsh?”

Celestine darted her eyes up to him. “More…”

Tristien nodded. “You enjoyed watching Lapis being flogged, didn’t you?”

Celestine nodded, eyes transfixed on his turgid member. Veins of white like lightning grew all over it. She wanted to touch her shaved cunt so badly, but she didn’t dare ask his permission yet. She found herself in such a new mindset of absolute freedom and wanting to please him and be ordered around. This carriage was a prison she never wanted to leave.

“I did, sir.”

“Open your mouth,” Tristien said.

She did. Her tongue was out, waiting. She hoped he let her feast, let her serve him with her mouth.

“I want to make you feel so good, Tristien.”

“Quiet,” Tristien growled. He leaned forward and put the whip in her mouth again, stuffing her throat. She groaned as the ivory slid back and forth, choking her. She reached out to touch his cock. He withdrew the whip.

“Fuck me,” she begged.

Blond hair, blue eyes, and a face of an angel with the fury of the cruelest master stared back at her.

“You haven’t done well enough today, Celestine.”

“Please,” Celestine murmured, staring into his beautiful eyes. His irises were so blue, like the sea under the sun she wanted to dive into and drown.

Tristien reached low now, the handle of his whip slick with the slop of her throat. He held it low in a gripped fist.

He is so much larger than I. They all are.

"Ride it.”

Celestine looked down at the whip handle. It was made for this. It was large, not as large as him, but all the studs, the thick head…

He looped a leash of yellow through her collar, drawing her forth. She straddled over it.

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