Oh.
Ohhh.
“That…is my breeding bench?”
Kiahn palms the back of his neck and shifts his gaze between me and the most luxurious piece of sex equipment I think I’ve ever seen.
Not that I’ve seen many.
“Yes, it-” he stammers, “is it not acceptable? I did not have time to have the jewels added.” He runs a hand over the contours of the plush padding. “It has been made to your exact measurements. We can change the fabrics if you wish, but this blue-” Kiahn’s eyes flick to mine briefly before he goes back to surveying the bench, “-it reminds me of the lagoon room on the ship where we first… uh…”
His words trail off and he looks to me as if I’m meant to guide him through this whole strange interaction. “I knowwhat we got up to in the lagoon room,” I tell him, walking forward and throwing him a smirk as I approach the… sex bench. “And I like the blue.” My hand brushes over the buttery-soft silk. “I just don’t know how this whole thing works.”
“Do you want to try?” Kiahn asks, his voice rough and quiet. When I look at him, his eyes are already on the jewel at the base of my neck - the one indicating to him that I’m ovulating and in prime ‘fucking’ condition. After a second or two, his gaze shifts up to meet my eyes. The intensity in the ways he’s looking at me right now is almost too much, so I turn back to the bench,running my hand over the contours that will apparently mold themselves perfectly to my body.
Do I want to take this thing for a spin?
With Kiahn?
There’s a throbbing sort of sensation between my legs, and it’s like my body is trying to tell me something.
“Yes,” I say, biting my lip after the word is out.
“Right, uh,” Kiahn steps forward, wiping his palms on his pants. Is he as nervous as I am? “I can help you get comfortable and strapped in on the bench. You basically kneel on these-” he says, indicating to the two, lower padded areas that jut out. They’re spaced far enough apart that my thighs will be parted as I’m laid on my front along the length of the bench. “-and there are controls at the head rest end.”
“Controls?”
“Yes, for you.”
I’m not sure what controls I’d be given in this situation, but I trust Kiahn and take his hand. He steadies me as I’m about to mount the bench, but with just one knee on the knee rest, I remember. “Oh, wait, I need to-”
Reaching into the pocket of my dress, I take out the small stoppered green glass bottle, the tiny pills rattling inside. Uncorking the thing with my teeth, I shake out two of the contraceptives into my palm. I can feel Kiahn watching my every move. My skin feels like it’s on fire in protest of the lie I’m about to tell. Taking the cork from my mouth, I tip the pills in and feel them melt on my tongue, leaving behind a sweet, sugary taste. “To help with my fertility,” I lie, turning the aftertaste of the pills bitter.
I hear Kiahn suck in a breath as if he’s about to say something.
And I can’t stand it.
I feel like he knows. Like he’s going to call me out for deceiving him.
Without thought, I reach under my dress and shimmy my silky underwear down my legs and hand them to him. “I guess these will just be in the way.”
He gapes down at the bundle of warm silk in his big hand.
I guess I should feel bad for stunning him into silence since it works in my favor. If he presses me about the pills, I just know I’ll confess. It was one thing to agree to this when I didn’t know Kiahn at all, but it feels different now.
Fortunately, Kiahn looks as though he’s forgotten all about questioning my little pills, because he’s frozen as he stares at my panties in his hand.
“Are you gonna help me up?” I ask, gesturing with a jerk of my head toward my custom-made royal breeding bench.
He blinks out of his stupor and clears his throat, hastily shoving my underwear down the back of his pants like he’s already decided to keep them. “Yes, sorry. Place your knees here,” he instructs, offering a hand for me to steady myself again.
My knee sinks into the plush padding, the silk pleasantly cool beneath my skin. Kiahn helps me as I hoist myself up, both legs now in position; kneeling and splayed as I face the length of the bench.
“Lay down,” Kiahn instructs with a gentle palm to the small of my back. His words are somehow soft and commanding at the same time. I like that.
Bending at the hips, I drape myself over the body of the bench, the hills and valleys of the silk welcoming me like a puzzle piece slotting into it’s partner. The headrest and handles are last, but it only seems natural and comfortable to use them, my hands curling around gold as my cheek presses to the pillowy welcome of the headrest.
I let my body settle, wiggling and shifting a little until I truly do feel like if I were tired enough, I might be able to fall asleep exactly like this.
