Hooked (Decadence Nights Book 1) (10 page)

“Doctor!” she repeated, eyes wide, her mind reeling with kinky scenarios.

He chuckled. “I see I’ll have to sign us up for the exam room next.”

They had arrived at the bottom of the stairs where a dungeon monitor was limiting access. He turned to her. “I thought you’d prefer a private room to the main floor on your first trip.”

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

“We’ll go slowly for now, little one. However, once you become more comfortable with the club, 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 chuckled, pressing a hard kiss to her parted lips as he murmured reassurance. “When you’re ready.” He then grabbed her hand and strode toward the stairs. “Let’s go play.”

*****

The wall sconces were aglow, the special bulbs flickering, casting a candle lit ambiance over the chamber. As Joseph stepped inside, he turned to watch Livvy’s reaction to the Tudor Throne Room.

As he’d hoped, her animated face conveyed her delight. Her eyes flashed with excitement and her breath caught as a rosy blush imbued her cheeks. His eyes dropped to the front of her dress. As he knew they would be, her nipples pressed hard and taut, clearly visible against the clingy fabric. She had been blatantly aroused 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 and practically raced across the room. Roleplay obviously appealed to his submissive. As the door closed behind her, his eyes swept the room.

The focal point was the huge four-post bed. A misnomer in this case as the posts were more like large columns with ornate scrollwork carved into the wood in the Tudor style. Further, with the BDSM style in mind, eyebolts were strategically inserted at different heights for restraints. The two columns at the foot of the bed doubled as whipping posts, the room being sufficiently large to enact such a scene, but the whip was not to his taste. The bed had other amenities, however, that he would be utilizing without a doubt.

Aptly king-sized, the bed was vast and he imagined it could hold most of the royal court if the king was so inclined. Again, not his thing, but he and Livvy would put the wide surface to good use. She would enjoy the luxuriant gold and red linens and the multitude of thick pillows, which would be perfect for propping, draping and upraising certain subbie parts to prominence.

On the opposite side of the room, a huge gilt and red velvet throne sat on a raised dais. It was the perfect place for his majesty to inspect his subject or be entertained with a dance, or some provocative posing, perhaps. There was a padded stool tucked beneath the ornate chair, the sight of which conjured an image of Livvy 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.

Grinning at his soon to be enacted fantasy, Joseph crossed to the storage armoire to select his accessories for the evening. Opening the double doors wide, he found everything he could possibly need to make Livvy scream with pleasure and beg for mercy. Joseph passed over the whips and canes, of which there was a large variety, but the former was too harsh for her fair skin and the latter too much like punishment. Tonight was all about pleasure.

Instead, he selected one of the many branding paddles—the Tudors having a penchant for marking criminals back in the day—a single word in raised lettering adorned each wooden blade meant to leave a corresponding mark on a shapely derriere. Joseph passed over “slut” and “mine”, grinning when he found one with “pet” written 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 open behind him.

Livvy 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 enough to be erased by the backlighting 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, Livvy,” 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 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. He came to her, standing close, a hairsbreadth apart in the middle of the large room. If she inhaled deeply, her erect nipples would graze his bare chest.

Her eyes dropped to his shoulders and moved over his chest. “I like the robe, Master. It’s very regal.” After she appeared and he’d seen her selection, he’d grabbed a matching one from the armoire. “You’re only lacking a crown, Your Majesty.”

“The robe is pretentious enough, pet, although it helps with the mood, I suppose.” His hand came up and with gentle fingers, he skimmed over her bare shoulders and across her collar bone, tracing the outline of the leather and lace at her throat. “Your cuffs and collar are from a different time, but they go nicely, I think.” He pressed kisses along his fingers’ path, moving slowly inward toward her throat. 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 eyes dipped to the abundance now bare and presented prettily before him. He couldn’t wait and 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. “I think you will address your king respectfully or face the court’s displeasure. You will call me, Sire, 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. At the same time his free hand cupped her other breast, pinching and rolling the nipple, tugging gently at intervals. Her low groans conveyed her enjoyment as did the chains clanking high overhead. She trembled and jerked spasmodically, the shuddering rush of air through her lips becoming harsh as her need grew. She whimpered when he stopped momentarily and moved to the other nipple, his mouth lavishing it with the equal attention.

“Now,” he murmured, when he raised his head minutes later, “for the presentation of the crown jewels.” He held up nipple clamps with sapphire-like stones dangling from delicate chains.

Despite her obvious arousal, she giggled. “Crown jewels, that’s funny, Sire, but please don’t make me laugh. I’d hate for you to be insulted. I can’t imagine the punishment for such a crime.”

“For an unguarded tongue, ten lashes at the whipping post was the order of the day.”

“Sire,” she protested on an indrawn breath.

“Ah, but for my queen, nothing so harsh. An hour in the brank should suffice, I think.”

“The what?”

“Look on the shelves behind me.”

He watched as she frowned in confusion and scanned the back wall.

“Also known as the Gossip’s Bridle.”

He knew the instant she located the padded head cage with the penis gag. Horror-stricken, she slipped her role. “Joseph, you can’t be serious.”

“Are you ready to safeword?”

Her eyes met his with equal dismay. “Is that my only choice, Sire?”

“If I say it is.”

She snapped her mouth shut, closing her eyes as well.

“Stoic is my queen. Back in the Henry Tudor’s day, the cage was metal and the gag was barbed, quite an unpleasant piece of business.”

“Forgive me, but how do you know so much about fifteenth century torture?”

“Sixteenth. I was a history major in undergrad and took several classes on the Renaissance. Henry was a cruel bastard and had nothing on De Sade, but never would I be so harsh with you.” He applied the first clamp as he said this, adjusting the tightness until she squirmed and tried to pull away. “Would you rather have the Bridle?”

She shook her head. He backed off the pressure just a bit.

“You’re holding your breath, Livvy. Breathe through the initial pain and it will even out.”

Carefully, he observed as she did as he bade. After a moment, she began to relax.

“Better?”

“Yes, Sire. It’s been a long time since I’ve worn clamps. I’d forgotten.”

He flicked the dangling blue gems, while pinching her other nipple. Knowing what to expect this time, Livvy managed the application of the other clamp with ease and grace.

He turned her until she faced the mirrored back wall. “These enhance your beautiful breasts to perfection and match your gorgeous blue eyes.” As he caressed her breasts from behind, he licked up the side of her neck and latched onto her earlobe. Huskily, he advised, “I quite like them, so prepare to be clamped often.”

Her head fell back on his shoulder while he kissed and played. Soon his need for her was a throbbing ache pressing hard against his zipper. He released her wrists from the chains above and linked them behind her back. He further restricted her movement by tugging her bodice down to her waist and her sleeves to her elbows. Leading her to the throne, he pulled out the padded stool. He then settled into his elaborate chair and took a moment to absorb her beauty.

When she became restless under his scrutiny, he smiled and issued his first of many kingly edicts. “I require entertainment, my queen. Kneel for me.”

She attempted to, struggling with her descent due to her long gown, which essentially hobbled her. His hands shot out, grasping her hips to steady her before she fell flat on her face. Once he’d settled her on the tufted bench, he admired the pretty picture she made, cheeks flushed, clamped nipples now a beautiful berry red, breasts quivering delectably with the rapid rise and fall of her chest. When her tongue slipped out, gliding across her lower lip to wet it, his smile faded with his groan. It was all he could do not to quit the game, throw her to the floor and fuck her.

“Bare my cock, my beautiful queen,” he growled hungrily, “using only your luscious mouth.”

Somehow, he controlled his urges and watched avidly as she leaned forward and with her teeth, untied his belted robe, nudging aside the halves with her chin. Underneath, he wore only trousers. Her head lowered to his waistband, but rather than diving right into the button, she opened her mouth and licked his navel. Although not what he’d asked, he allowed her to play, curious to see what his little imp would do next. His abdomen tightened and his chest filled with a sharply indrawn breath as she moved higher, following the thin line of hair up his abdomen to his chest, where she shifted to tongue his nipple.

“You have the body of an Olympian, Sire. Like a swimmer, long,” her tongue laved over the small, male nub, “lean,” her teeth nipped gently, “and whipcord strong.” She applied suction, swirling her tongue first left, then right. “I love how you’re all sinew and lean muscle.” She moved across his chest to the other side. “Do you swim?”

“I do,” he answered with a low groan, “three times a week.”

“My king… So. Very. Sexy.” She punctuated each word with torturous swirls of her tongue, taxing his composure.

His hands shot to his trousers, which he unbuttoned and unzipped in a flash. “Stop teasing and suck me.”

Her head came up and she grinned. “It would be my royal pleasure, Your Majesty.”

Her mouth engulfed him, taking most of his length in one glide. As she pulled off, she angled her head and licked down his length, using the flat of her tongue along the underside. She slid back up, encircling the head round and round. Next, she began sucking, taking him to the back of her throat before withdrawing, nearly coming off all the way, teasing as if she would, but never losing him.

His hands came to her head. Flipping off the gold circlet, he wove his fingers through the silken strands. Gathering it in a fist at the back of her head gave him an unobstructed view of his cock gliding in and out of her full, pink lips. He relished the feel of her hot, wet mouth applying the perfect amount of suction. Too soon, the familiar tingling stirred in his balls signaling he was close. He fought for control, not willing to give in so quickly. He wasn’t a kid anymore, yet his sex drive was strong. Livvy stirred him like no other woman had; he knew if he blew now, he’d be ready for round two within the hour.