“Let me, Mistress,” he said.
“Oh… all right.” She handed him the panties, her blush deepening.
He went to his knees before her, the position feeling more natural, more right than ever. He held the lace open and helped her step into each leg, his fingers brushing her calves…her ankles. Slowly, he drew the garment up, his knuckles grazing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, settling the waistband snugly around her hips.
He couldn’t help but admire the way the lace molded to her gorgeous body…the fullness of her hips…the strong, thick thighs he knew could probably grip him like a vise if she ever wanted to. And he loved the way the vertical opening in the front of the panties framed the sweet, swollen slit of her pussy, offering a tantalizing glimpse of her feminine desire.
Goddess, can a male die of being hard for too long? he wondered. Because the pressure in his groin was becoming unbearable—a tight, urgent need that refused to go away.
On impulse, he looked up at her, meeting her gaze.
“Can I kiss you, Mistress? Kiss your panties, I mean?” he asked, his voice coming out hoarse with desire.
She bit her lower lip, her eyes going wide.
“You want to…?”
“Kiss your panties,” he repeated. “It’s something the Mistresses of Yonnie Six have their bodyslaves do. I, uh, thought it would look good for the Empress if she’s watching,” he added, hoping she wouldn’t think he was overstepping.
“Oh, well in that case—of course. I guess it would be all right,” she agreed, her cheeks going pink. “We do have to put on a good show, after all.”
Braze didn’t need further invitation. He pressed forward, nuzzling his cheek against the soft lace covering her mound. He inhaled deeply, and the scent that filled his senses—hot, sweet, uniquely feminine, and most of all hers—made his head swim and his cock jerk painfully.
He could have spent hours with his face between her thighs, but he knew they didn’t have the time. So he pressed a firm, lingering kiss to the top of her mound, right over the lace. It wasn’t where he really wanted to kiss—which was lower, on the hot little bud of her clit he could see peeking from between her outer lips. But he didn’t want to push too far.
Later, he promised himself. Hopefully later she’ll let me taste her.
Above him, Kaitlyn sighed—a soft, shuddering sound—and her fingers slid restlessly through his hair. When he finally looked up, her eyes were half-lidded and dark with a desire that mirrored his own.
“Thank you, Braze—that was very sweet,” she murmured, her voice husky. “But now we’d better work on getting you dressed. I’d hate to show up late to the feast.”
“Of course,” he growled, and rose reluctantly to his feet, every movement a protest. The most difficult part of the night was yet to come and he knew it.
The silence in the bedroom felt thick—charged with everything they weren’t saying—but Braze tried to ignore it. He toed off his heavy boots—the thud of each one hitting the dark marble floor sounding unnaturally loud. Then he reached for the tie at his waist holding up the ridiculous silk panel, but the moment his fingers dipped near his groin, a sharp, biting zap shot from the manacles. A jolt of pain lanced up his arms.
“Fuck!” he snarled under his breath, jerking his hands back. The energy field hummed menacingly around his wrists, warning him that he’d gone too far, though he hadn’t even come close to touching his shaft.
“Oh, I never should have let the Mistress of the Wardrobe make me put those on you! Let me try to take them off,” Kaitlyn exclaimed.
She reached for his wrists, but Braze drew back.
“And what are we going to tell the Empress if she asks why I’m the only male not wearing non-con manacles?” he asked. “Believe me, Mistress, I want them off as much as you do—more, even. But I don’t want to risk the mission.”
Kaitlyn froze for a moment, nibbling her bottom lip uncertainly. At last, she nodded.
“You’re right. They have to stay on. Which means I’ll have to do most of this for you—do you mind?”
Braze shook his head.
“I’m yours, Mistress,” he told her, his voice coming out low and gravely. “Do what you want with me.”
Kaitlyn looked up and met his eyes…what she saw there must have shaken her.
“You know, you don’t have to talk like that,” she said softly. “The Mistress of the Wardrobe said there weren’t any listening devices in here. It’s enough to just act the parts, don’t you think?”
“Better safe than sorry,” Braze pointed out. “Who knows what kind of tech they have in here. Besides…it helps me to play the part if I play it all the way, you know?”
She nodded.
