Page 52 of Kingmakers, Year Three

Something I’ve noticed about Cat: when she forgets to be nervous, she moves with surprising grace. She slips out of those over-large clothes, baring the tight body beneath.

And what a body it is.

Her small, round breasts stand at attention on her chest. Her waist is so slim I could close my hands around it. But she isn’t skinny or childish—those curving hips and that full ass add a satisfying sensuality to her figure.

Her bronze skin glows in the flickering light. Every inch of her is smooth and unmarked. For now . . .

“Come here,” I bark.

Cat crosses the space between us, silent and obedient.

“Stand against that wall,” I order. “Put your hands over your head.”

Cat stands with her back to the curving stone wall. She raises her hands over her head, wrists crossed. The movement lifts her breasts even higher, tilting the nipples up invitingly.

I’ve already passed a length of rope through the holes in the wall. I loop the rope around Cat’s wrists, tying them in place.

Cat’s lips part. I catch the sharp scent of adrenaline rising off her skin.

She’s already frightened, and we haven’t even started.

“Spread your legs,” I order.

Cat widens her stance so her feet are shoulder-width apart. I tie her ankles to the wall so she can’t close her legs.

Now her whole body is taught and trembling. She knows she’s trapped, in the most vulnerable position possible. Completely at my mercy.

And yet, she allowed me to do it. Which means she trusts me to some degree.

She really shouldn’t.

I stand before her, looking at her stretched frame, pinned to the wall like a butterfly. All that soft, tender flesh completely under my control.

Searching through my backpack, I pull out a leather scourge.

I made this myself, just like I made Cat’s collar, in the workshops adjacent to the old forge.

It took several hours to knot the leather thongs and attach them to the carefully-wrapped handle. The leather is soft and supple, but it can sting. I tested it out on my thigh.

I grip the handle loosely, letting the leather threads trail.

Cat watches my every movement, eyes wide.

With her hands up above her head, her breasts are bare and completely unprotected. I swing the scourge, letting the leather thongs nip at her left breast. Cat jumps and lets out a little shriek. A dozen pink lines mark her delicate chest.

I trail my fingers along the leather strands, letting the anticipation build. Then I whip her again, on the other side. The knotted leather flicks her nipple sharply and Cat shrieks even louder.

I step closer, trailing the scourge gently up her inner thigh.

Cat shivers, her knees weak, held up mostly by her arms bound over her head.

I bend to whisper in her ear. “I saw you sitting with Hedeon at dinner.”

I caress her left breast in my hand, feeling the warmth of the whipped flesh.

I seize her nipple between my thumb and index finger and squeeze it hard. Cat moans.

“I saw him talking to you.”

---