Page 36 of Kingmakers, Year Three

Cat has changed since she came to Kingmakers. She used to look weak and childish. But when I felt her body, there was a new firmness to the flesh, a flexible and pliant strength like a gymnast. When I picked her up, she easily wrapped her legs around my waist and held up her own weight while she bounced up and down on my hand. I doubt she could have done that a year ago.

Her hair is longer than it was. Wilder. I’ve enjoyed telling her how to wear it each day. Enjoyed seeing the slim stalk of her neck when her hair is pulled up in a ponytail or bun. Enjoyed even more the days when it’s loose and wind-blown.

My heart beats like a war drum.

I want to pick her up and throw her down on that bed again.

But I have to pull back for a moment. I have to give her space.

Because I just discovered something very interesting about my timid little kitten.

She has a hunger inside her.

And when she’s hungry, she’ll do anything to eat.

I just gave her a little snack.

If I wait, she’s sure to want more.

Cat is fidgeting in place, unable to speak and embarrassed by the silence. I know she wants to leave, but I’m not done looking at her yet.

I’m fascinated by the dichotomy between her diminutive frame and the ferocity with which she kissed me. Fascinated by her innocent face hiding the depravity that lives inside of her.

Who the fuck is this girl? Who is she really?

“I don’t know what that was,” Cat says awkwardly.

Her tone is half apology, half resentment.

“Yes, you do,” I reply.

Now those dark eyes flit up for just an instant, before dropping again. Cat flushes redder than ever, biting hard on the corner of her lip. Her lips are swollen from kissing, a streak of my blood at the corner of her mouth.

“Cat,” I summon her.

Her eyes rise again without her control, fixed on mine as if mesmerized.

“Go to class on your own tomorrow,” I say.

She looks confused and almost disappointed. She doesn’t know if that’s a punishment or a reward.

I don’t clarify. I just stride over to the door and hold it open so she can leave.

Cat hurries out, without a word of farewell.

I close the door and lock it, before returning to my bed. I lay back against the pillows, staring up at the bare wooden beams of the ceiling.

I slip my hand inside my boxer shorts, gripping the shaft of my rock-hard cock.

I picture Cat’s ass, round and firm, glowing red from spanking, with a distinct handprint from the hardest slap.

I remember the way she squirmed against my thighs and the little shrieks and moans she let out, helpless against the pleasure and the pain.

My hand slides up and down the shaft of my cock, the flesh rigid and hot, the head throbbing as my palm glides over it.

Never in my life have I enjoyed a sexual encounter more, and I didn’t even cum.

I’ve fucked pretty girls. Dozens of them.

---