“Mmmph, it’s called a queening throne. This is a popular room with female Dominants who like to be worshipped in a carnal fashion.”
As in the submissive would lie beneath the throne and… “Oh. Right.”
Great, now she was blushing again.
Everywhere in the room, there was gilt and gold, from the panels behind the throne to the wall of mirrors around the doorway to the candleholders.
A dark wood cabinet inlaid with gold and silver filigree stood open, revealing a myriad of BDSM implements.
In the room’s center, beneath an extravagant chandelier, was a luxurious spanking bench with extravagantly carved legs and padded with golden leather. The straps were gold studded.
A sensual floral fragrance drifted through the room.
One arm around her, Ghost turned to adjust a wall rheostat. The tiny lights in the chandelier grew brighter.
No, no, no. She didn’t have a twenty-year-old body. Turning, she put her hand over his and lowered the lights.
Tilting his head, he regarded her for a moment. “This time, I’ll allow you to have your way…with the lighting. Another time, it will be different.”
Her mind simply emptied at the casual authority in his voice. “Thank you.”
After closing the door and setting his bag down, he gripped her hair, pulling her head back for another kiss, molding her against his hard frame. He was all muscles and sinews, and a thick cock strained against his pants.
Smiling slightly, he said in Arabic, “Here we have the proper place to indulge in a spanking. Do you want to try being restrained on the bench, or should I put you over my knees?”
Oh gods, how could she ever decide?
Ghost smiled down at the little professor. So pretty with her flushed face and the silky hair he had mussed. He slid his hand under the open bustier. Her breasts weren’t the perky ones of youth, but instead, incredibly soft with large pink nipples. The best kind of nipples for clamps.
Her body quivered each time his fingers brushed over a peak.
This was going to be fun.
And frustrating. His throbbing dick would have to settle for a handjob later. This time around, it would be all about her.
Biting her lip, she looked from the sofa to the spanking bench. Her longing to try the bench obviously vied with her need for the familiar.
The Shadowlands was all about exploring limits.
“The bench it is.” He tried to smother a laugh as her shocked gaze shot to him.
“But…”
With one arm still around her, he led her to the bench and slid the bustier’s straps down to remove the garment. Standing behind her, he closed his hands on her lush breasts to keep her immobile as he nibbled on her shoulders. Her skin was like satin beneath his lips.
“Ghost…”
“Shhh.” Still behind her, he reached down to undo her black jeans, then bent and tugged them and her briefs down.
He squeezed her soft waist between his big hands, then slid his palms lower. He curved his hands around the beautifully full hips and squeezed. “This is how I’ll hold you in place when I take you,” he murmured and enjoyed the tremor that ran through her.
Lifting her, he laid her on the bench, belly-down. When she wiggled, he swatted her ass lightly. “Stay still, lass.”
Her face was turned to one side, and he saw the flush pinken her skin. And how she didn’t move a muscle.
“Very good.” Smiling, he tugged her jeans and briefs all the way off. Having the submissives shoeless in the club made stripping them so much easier. He wondered if Z had taken that into consideration when creating the rule.
Gripping her right knee, he set it on the horizontal padded board, then did the same with the left one. “Rest your forearms on the board here, too, pet.” He adjusted her breasts to dangle on each side of the top cushion.
She turned her head to watch him, eyes slightly wide, breathing fast.
Intending to reassure her, he bent and kissed her lightly. Her yielding response brought out the Dom in him, and he deepened it into an erotic possession.
Damn, she was intoxicating.
Straightening, he ran his hand down her bare back and up. Someday, her beautiful skin would serve as a blank canvas. Not today.
Control, Colonel.
Instead, he pushed her hair out of her face. “Are you comfortable, Valerie?” He traced the tiny frown line between her brows. “I want you comfortable before I beat on you.”
A snort of laughter escaped her. “I feel like an idiot.”
“Sex really is one of the silliest sports ever.” He touched her, learning