Page 9 of A Kingdom of Pleasure and Torment

With a wave of her needle wand, my nightgown deftly unsews itself, falling into unfinished parts on the floor. I stand before her completely naked, my skin immediately puckering into goose flesh.

“You need stockings, of course.” She waves the wand again. White silk stockings, tied just above my knees with garter ribbons, materialize on my legs. Kneeling before me, she places a hand on my calf and smooths her palm up, to where my bare skin meets the silk. “How do these feel?”

“Luxurious,” I say, my gaze captivated by the sight of her long, slender fingers stroking my leg.

“Perhaps you’d like them better if they were tied a bit lower?” Before I can answer, she unties the ribbon and swiftly rolls the stocking down, her fingertips grazing my skin. She clucks her tongue. “No. Higher, I think.”

I gasp as she pushes the silk up and smooths over the inside of my thigh. When she leans in to tie the garter, her cheek brushes my mound. And when she looks up at me, a coy glance from her sideways turned face, I know it’s intentional.

“Ah,” I say with a wry smile. “My ‘transformation.’ Not just my wardrobe.”

“My attempt at tact. Though, I prefer a more direct…” She walks her fingers slowly up my inner thigh as she talks, her breath stirring the downy curls at my center. “Approach.”

She parts my folds as she leans in to place a kiss directly on my quivering bud. Her lips are silky as they close over the hood and linger, pulling back gently.

She leaves me barely able to stand and goes back to her sewing supplies. “You’ll need, oh… three hundred pair, I think.”

“Three hundred?” My desire instantly turns to astonishment. “Stockings?”

“Six hundred, if we’re counting by the stocking. But yes. You don’t want to go to court a pauper,” she says.

I wonder how much she knows about my “transformation” and what it’s intended to achieve. Surely, Luthian isn’t telling everyone he plans to assassinate a king.

“Did Luthian tell you why he’s taking me to court with him?” I ask.

“He plans to win the king’s favor. By making you queen, you lucky girl.” She shivers. “King Arcus is quite inventive, though I’ve never had the pleasure.”

I play along, knowing it is the second prince whose attention I ultimately need to capture. “I just hope I please him.”

“Then you should look the part. Panties.” She waves the needle again and I find myself in thin lace that barely covers me, then in a wisp of silk that slides into the cleft of my buttocks as if I’m wearing nothing at all.

“You may need some without a crotch,” she muses, and flicks her wand again.

The lace returns, this time with a notable difference. “Why wear any at all?” I ask.

“Style. Two hundred pair of each.” She licks the tip of her needle-wand and writes with it in the air, taking an invisible note. “And of course, you’ll need corsets.”

The wind is crushed out of me before I can speak. I’m encased from hips to bust in a tightly laced garment of ivory brocade. It cycles through an entire rainbow before Sarta is satisfied.

Looking to the door, she flashes a brilliant smile. “What do you think?”

I turn to see Luthian there, his night-sky eyes hooded, a slanted smile on his mouth. “You’re a master at your work, Sarta.”

She dips her head, but not before I see the blush on her cheeks. “We were just about to move onto gowns.”

“No, I think she’s dressed appropriately for our lesson.” He vanishes the breakfast tray from the bed, leaving the covers smoothed and neatly tucked.

“Why do you keep that mean servant around if you can just do that?” I blurt.

He shrugs. “Style.”

I see why he and Sarta are friends.

“Now,” he says, patting the bed. “Come here and spread your legs for us.”

Chapter Five

I obey him.

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