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The scorching sequel to ‘The Prince of Asteria’ – 28,000+ words
I was panting, but the memories of our conversation in the limo were still fresh, my anger burning bright. ‘No, your highness.’
He abruptly cupped my sex, his fingers running over the damp silk, massaging my slickened folds. I cried out, my legs buckling. ‘Yes you are,’ he admonished, and I felt my face flush.
‘Go to the stool,’ he instructed, nodding across the room. There was a dressing table there, and in front of it a rectangular stool with deep red cushioning. It stood a few feet high, on carved wooden legs. I walked over to it uncertainly.
‘Kneel down across it,’ he told me.
I knelt, the wooden floor hard against my knees. The edge of the stool pushed against the front of my thighs, and as I lowered myself down the cushioned top pressed against my stomach and breasts, making my cleavage bulge provocatively. I gingerly put my hands on the floor on the far side of the stool. My heart was beating fast: I could hear the blood rushing in my ears.
II heard him step up behind me, and something was drawn around my thigh, just above my knee. I looked down. It was one of his silk ties: he was tying my leg to the leg of the stool.
He tied my other leg, then repeated the process with my wrists, the wood cold against them. Now I was bound fast to the stool, unable to move, the ties he’d used slippery-smooth against my skin. I tugged at them experimentally. They held fast: this might be just a lesson, but the bondage was real – I certainly couldn’t free myself on my own. The thought made my heart beat faster.
Jagor knelt down behind me – I had to crane my head back over my shoulder to see him, and he chuckled. Then he ran his huge hands over the cheeks of my ass and started to smooth over them, again and again. My eyes fluttered closed and I let my head return to front. Every touch was stirring the heat at my groin; after a few minutes I was unconsciously grinding my hips in the air, trying to rub my clit against the edge of the stool.
‘I’m going to spank you now, Lucy,’ he said in a voice as unyielding as the movement of a continent.