Page 44 of Hooked

She nodded. “Thank you, master. This is all quite unexpected and rather intimidating.”

“We’ll go slowly for now, little one. Once you become more comfortable, I’d like to see you on the cross.” He tipped his head, indicating the St. Andrew’s Cross behind him and the intense flogging scene going on. Staring glassy-eyed at the leather tails that rose and fell across the restrained submissive’s breasts, she swallowed hard.

He pressed a kiss to the corner of her parted lips. “When you’re ready,” he reassured her. “Tonight, it’s only me and you, and a room full of surprises.”

***

THE WALL SCONCES WEREaglow, the special bulbs flickering and casting a candlelit ambiance over the chamber. As Joseph stepped inside, he turned to watch Livia’s reaction to the Tudor Throne Room.

As he’d hoped, her animated face conveyed her delight. Her eyes shone with excitement and a becoming blush of pink had risen in her cheeks. The quickening of her breathing drew his eyes to the front of her dress where her taut nipples were visible through the clingy fabric. Her arousal spurred his own, but he couldn’t get much harder than he already was and had been all evening.

“Through the door is a dressing room where you’ll find costumes. Choose something that suits the room and your mood.”

Joseph grinned as she sprang forward, practically racing across the room. Role-play obviously appealed to his submissive. As the door closed behind her, he turned and surveyed the opulent room, which he’d seen before but only briefly.

The centerpiece was the huge four-poster bed. Calling them posts was misleading; they were more like columns with Tudor-style carvings, and he doubted it was typical of the era to have eyebolts bolted into the wood for restraints. Although he could be wrong.

Moving toward it for a closer look, he suspected the two columns at the foot of the bed could double as whipping posts. The room had sufficient space to enact a whipping scene, but that wasn’t his taste. The bed had other features he was eager to test out with his lovely pet’s assistance.

The bed was immense, larger than a standard king-size frame. He imagined it could hold most of the royal court if the king had the inclination. Again, not his thing, but he and Livia would put the wide surface to good use. She’d adore the gold and red linens and the stack of cushy pillows, which would be ideal for propping and draping and lifting certain curvy body parts up.

On the opposite side of the room, a red velvet throne sat on a raised dais. It was the perfect place for his majesty to inspect his subject or be entertained by a dance. There was a padded stool tucked beneath the ornate chair, the sight of which conjured an image of Livia kneeling naked on the plush velvet, her hands bound behind her back as she paid homage to her sovereign lord with her inventive mouth and tongue.

Joseph smiled, looking forward to bringing his fantasy to life, as he crossed to the storage armoire to get his accessories for the night. Inside, he found everything he could possibly need to make Livia scream with pleasure or, if he chose—beg for mercy. On hooks, inside the double doors, was a variety of short-tail whips and canes. He passed on both. The former was too harsh for her delicate, flawless skin; the latter too much like punishment. He had only pleasure planned for her tonight.

He selected one of the many branding paddles—the Tudors had a penchant for marking criminals back in the day—a single word in raised lettering adorning each wooden blade. Joseph passed overslutandmine, grinning when he came to one withpetembossed in bold script. Perfect.

He tucked it under his arm, while slipping a few other odds and ends into his pockets. As he was finishing, the door opened behind him.

Livia stood in the doorway, illuminated by the light behind her. She likely didn’t know that her long burgundy gown—off-the-shoulder with puffy sleeves, a fitted bodice, and a full flowing skirt common to the era—was sheer and revealed her shapely legs, from her ankles to the apex of her thighs. Atop her gleaming blonde hair, which was long and loose as he liked it, she wore a circlet of gold. He gazed at her appreciatively, his eyes scanning every exquisite inch.

His inspection must have been overlong because she began to fidget. “You’re gorgeous, pet,” he reassured.

Smoothing down the fabric, she smiled. “It was this or a servant’s costume. I preferred being the queen tonight.”

“And so you shall be.” Her blush lit the room more effectively than the wall sconces. “If Her Royal Highness will stand in the middle of the room and wait for me, I’ll finish preparations.”

It took only a moment for him to place his tools where he needed them, on the nightstand and in a pouch that conveniently hung off the side of the throne. Last, he slipped off his shirt and into a long, flowing velvet robe, which he left open in front. It was regal but ridiculous. Still, when in Rome...

Joining her in the middle of the room, he stood close but not touching. If she inhaled deeply, her erect nipples would graze his bare chest.

Her eyes dropped to his shoulders then swept down his front. “I like the robe; it’s stately. You’re only lacking a crown, Your Majesty.”

With gentle fingers, he skimmed over her bare shoulders and across her collarbone to her throat where he traced the leather and lace. “Your cuffs and collar are from a different time, but they go nicely, I think.”

He dipped his head, pressed kisses along his fingers’ path. With practiced movements, he raised her hands and hooked her wrists to the velvet-encased chains above her head. With her head tilted back, she watched as he expanded the telescoping spreader bar between the two restraints, leaving her upper body open and vulnerable to him.

“You are well and truly caught, my queen.” Slowly, he trailed his hands down her arms, his fingers following the edge of her gown to the low bodice and with a quick tug, pulled the stretchy material below her breasts. His avid gaze took in the abundance now bare and presented prettily before him. Unable to wait, he palmed their fullness with both hands, his thumbs sweeping sensually across the perfect pink tips.

“Joseph.” His name was little more than a sexy exhale.

He tweaked a nipple at her lapse. “You will address your king respectfully or face the court’s displeasure. I think sire is appropriate while in my throne room.”

“Yes, Sire,” she breathed, a small grin tilting her lips as she leaned into him for more.

“Queen Olivia likes nipple play. Let me give them the royal treatment.”

With a hand at her back to keep her still, he dipped his head and took one hard nipple into his mouth. Opening wide, he applied suction, while inside, he lashed the tip with his tongue. His free hand cupped her other breast, pinching and rolling the nipple, tugging gently at intervals.

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