Colleen reached around behind her back with both hands, feeling for the top of the zipper just above her bra strap.
“More,” he said.
Colleen had no idea what he was talking about, but she couldn’t just ask because she’d have to say something wrong. So instead, she tried to put all the questioning upward swing into her voice as she asked, “Yes, sir?”
“Arch your back more, and drag that zipper down slowly.”
Colleen straightened, letting the top of her head stretch for the ceiling, and then bowed her body backward to lift her breasts and display them for him as she slowly unzipped the Sailor Moon costume, and it began to slip down her body.
“Good girl,” he growled.
He told her each item of her clothes to take off and directed how she would do it—slower, turned around and bending over, on her knees—and the blank silver pentagon of his mask never wavered from her direction.
Not when she peeled off the long white gloves topped with red bands, not when she let the short blue skirt puffed up by a crinoline drop to her ankles, and not when the white, boned, push-up lingerie she wore underneath fell to the pile of clothes at her feet.
And then she was naked except for the red, thigh-high, stiletto-heeled boots, just like he’d wanted.
He nearly hadn’t moved while sitting on the throne, except tension filled his body. He didn’t look like he was resting anymore, but crouched and ready to spring.
He said, “Turn around. I want to look at you.”
Colleen shuffled in a circle, trying not to look as mortified as she felt.
“God, you’re sexy,” he said.
Even though Colleen couldn’t see his face, she wasn’t looking at him. “No, I’m not. I’m just—”
Twist lifted one finger, and Colleen fell silent.
He said, “I said, you’re sexy. I think you’re a hot, beautiful, sexy woman, and I will brook no argument. It doesn’t matter to me what other people have told you in the past. I don’t care what has caused you to think you’re not. I find you incredibly sexy, the hottest little thing I’ve seen in years, and I will tell you that until you know it is true. What do you say?”
“—Yes, sir.”
“Now, come here.”
Colleen walked reluctantly toward him. Where her thighs rubbed together, she felt mortified at her chubbiness, and yet the friction of her legs rubbing together stimulated her clit that he had massaged so very recently.
When she was quite close to Twist, he reached out with one arm and gathered her onto his lap so that she was kneeling on the seat of the chair with her legs on either side of his thighs. He was so tall that her nose was only a little bit above his, even though he was leaning back in the chair and she was standing on her knees over him.
She was so close that she could see his eyes behind the rippled shadows of his blank mask, and the bright blueness behind the silver was almost shocking.
He ran his hands from the backs of her knees up and over her ass. Her recently spanked flesh stung from the rub of his hands. He rubbed up to her shoulders and then around to cup her breasts. “These are beautiful, and I regret my choice of a mask even more.”
Colleen couldn’t help but chuckle at that.
He looked back up at her, and his blue eyes behind the filigreed silver trained on hers. “What do you say?”
She cast around for an answer, but she only had two choices. “Yes, sir?”
“Better.”
His hands roamed her body, massaging and gently tickling, then pinching and rubbing, until she was clinging to his shoulders, sighing as he slid one finger through her folds and inside of her.
As she lay her forehead on his shoulder and his fingers were buried in her pussy, rolling his thumb around her clit, she turned her head and brushed her lips across his neck. A faint scent of cologne wafted from his neck above his open collar, spicy cinnamon and wood smoke like a campfire verging out of control, and the subtle warm scent of his skin.
She buried her face in his neck, kissing and sucking at the part of his throat she could reach under the sharp silver edge of his mask, and he arched his neck against her mouth. Just under his jawline, the smoothness of his skin was demarcated by a sharp line. A short beard grew above it, rough against her lips. In the shadow of the mask, she couldn’t see what color his beard was, but his hair was dark with an occasional dark auburn glint in the light pouring from above.
His hand quickened under her, concentrating on rolling against her clit and rubbing inside of her, and her breath came faster. She was panting on his neck, whimpering but trying not to let it sound like words, when his touch lightened.
