Perfect Master(7)
He groaned. “That’s it. Relax. Let Hikaru fuck your pretty ass with the dildo. You can take it. Soon you’ll be ready to take my cock there, too. Meanwhile there are many ways the royal eunuchs can give you pleasure—some ways that I cannot because I wear the mask. They may take your ass, your mouth, caress and suck your pretty nipples and…” His words trailed off as though it pained him to forego the sexual foreplay the mask prevented. “Remember, though, my princess, your cunt belongs to me. It’s mine…only mine, now and for all time. Gods but that feels good,” he growled when she relaxed her throat muscles and swallowed his cock head.
The eunuch sucked her clit harder, flailed the delicate bud with his tongue. Emerald wanted more, wanted to feel her Master’s tongue and hands and naked flesh on her, in her. She swallowed reflexively against his rigid cock, and he rewarded her with a groan that sounded as if he was in exquisite agony.
The royal eunuchs can give you pleasure…in ways I cannot because I wear the mask.
Why wouldn’t he take off the mask? Why did he insist on covering his magnificent body in the leather that felt warm, alive against her hands? She didn’t mind, but instinct told her his own smooth, hot skin would feel even better.
Emerald recalled the glimpse she’d had of him last night, the perfect beauty he now hid from his father’s subjects and from her. She was his mate now, not some sex slave from the emporiums or a sexbot from Pak Song’s extensive inventory. She’d persuade him to remove it later. At the moment she had a better use for her mouth. And the royal eunuch had a magical tongue that had her on the edge of yet another climax.
Her pussy clenched and contracted wildly as she sucked her Master’s cock dry and swallowed his hot, thick cream. She barely missed the lack of that cock stretching her spasming cunt—but then how could she miss it, when one royal eunuch nibbled her clit while another reamed her ass with a dildo that felt remarkably like a smaller, cooler version of her Master’s magnificent cock.
Chapter Three
Arik had come three times during the ritual mating, yet his cock was still rock hard and ready for more when he lifted his princess from the dais and carried her to his tower. He laid Emerald on his bed, atop the velvet coverlet. She slept on, her surprisingly dark eyelashes forming a pattern against the creamy skin beneath her closed eyes, her full lips slack.
His gaze fell on the icy brilliance of the collar that marked her as consort of the planet’s royal heir, and he noted the stark contrast between the white diamonds and platinum, the red gold and emeralds in the chain that joined her nipple rings and her fiery pelt of closely cropped curls. Light and bright. Hard and soft. He longed to strip away the leather that was his personal prison and feel with his hand and body that which he would only allow himself to touch with his cock.
He wouldn’t do it because he intended to keep her. Wanted her to take him willingly again, as she’d done earlier. Gods but he hated the idea of having to restrain his lover. He’d done it too many times in the pleasure palaces. He’d even hooded his partners so he wouldn’t have to see the revulsion in their eyes. It was his fate to hide behind the leather, his prize that the concealment seemed not to repulse his princess.
At least he could feel the creamy heat of her cunt surrounding his naked cock, hear her cries of pleasure when she came. Standing over her now, watching the slow rise and fall of her breasts, Arik sent silent thanks to the gods that he’d not been totally blinded, that he could stroke her visually, imagining in the deepest confines of his mind how her ivory skin would feel—warm and incredibly soft against his naked flesh. His nostrils flared at the scent of her that permeated the chamber—the scent of woman and arousal and fulfillment.
His cock rose again against his belly. He had to feel her warmth, experience her woman’s softness. With his good hand he reached down, slid his fingers through those fiery shorn curls. Perhaps…perhaps he could free his hand from the leather glove, learn by touch if the short springy curls felt as soft as they looked.
Without thinking, he reached behind his head for the lacings. Then he remembered. He’d insisted that the leather garments be fashioned in such a way that once Hikaru had laced one onto him, it was there to stay until the eunuch appeared in his chamber each evening to remove it for the night. Its only opening that he could control was a small zippered slit at the crotch through which he could empty his bowels when the need arose—and the removable leather cock-sleeves on his everyday bodysuits that he could wear or not as the occasion dictated.