Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
“I’m trying to be careful. Let me know if I hurt you,” she murmured as she fitted the hinged cage itself around his shaft—it was a snug, custom fit, leaving no room for growth—and clicked it shut. A tiny, silver lock secured it and the sound of the mechanism engaging was soft, yet final.
A shiver that was not unpleasant ran through him.
He was enclosed.
Helpless.
Hers.
Looking down at her, he could plainly see her full breasts, framed in the silver gown and he could feel her soft fingers stroking his balls as she made sure everything was in the right place. Either or both of those stimulations was enough to make him rock-solid, but the cage kept him from getting hard.
That didn’t make his desire for her any less, however—he still felt a deep need for her touch—a hungry ache to be of service to her. His body just couldn’t act on it. If anything, the cage around his cock enhanced his desire—like a flame that was burning brightly inside him which wasn’t allowed to turn into a bonfire and yet could never be put out.
Kaitlyn held up a small, ornate key on a fine silver chain and, without a word, slipped the chain over her head. The key settled in the valley between her breasts, hidden beneath the silver gown.
The symbolism was so potent it made his heart fist in his chest. She literally held the key to his pleasure…his comfort…his very sexuality, right next to her heart. Letting her cage him was the most profoundly submissive act of his life, and it filled him with a sense of rightness and desire.
“Thank you, Mistress,” he said quietly as he helped her to her feet.
She lifted an eyebrow quizzically.
“You’re thanking me for caging you?”
“I’m thanking you for letting me submit,” he said, and cupped her cheek. “For making me yours.”
She blushed again but he could see the pleasure in her eyes. Yes, he decided, as long as they took things slowly, this could definitely grow into a deeper relationship—maybe she would even let him Bond her to him, in time.
He dressed in the clothes the servant had brought—more of the ridiculous, crotchless trousers in a finer black material—which now framed the silver cage like an obscene exhibit. Then came the thick, black leather collar.
It was wide—padded for comfort—but unyielding, with a heavy metal ring at the front. He started to fasten it around his own neck, but Kaitlyn stopped him.
“No,” she said, taking the collar from his hands. “Kneel.”
Braze did as she asked at once, kneeling before her so she could reach him more easily.
Kaitlyn slipped the collar around his throat and buckled it. Then she attached a long, elegant leash of braided black leather to the ring in front. She took a step back and surveyed him—cage, collar and all—and nodded.
“Perfect. You can rise now…husband.”
Hearing her call him that—even if it wasn’t really true—sent a surge of desire straight through Braze. He murmured,
“Thank you, Mistress,” and rose to his feet.
Kaitlyn stepped forward, standing on her tiptoes to brush a soft kiss against his lips.
“You look very handsome,” she murmured, smiling at him. She took the end of the leash. “Let’s go to Morning Court. And let’s hope it’s less crazy than the banquet was last night.”
“Agreed,” Braze rumbled. His mindset was already changing—shifting from lover to Protector, despite his bonds. But still, he carried his desire with him—in a very literal sense.
The cage around his shaft was a persistent pressure—a constant reminder of his devotion to his Mistress. The collar was a familiar anchor—he’d been collared all the time during his time with Mistress Lovelyone, so he was used to it. The leash in Kaitlyn’s hand was a promise—a hope for their future together.
They headed out the door—a stunning Elite and her intricately-bound Protector—stepping from the privacy of their sanctuary into the viper’s den of imperial politics.
Neither of them had any idea of the fresh chaos that awaited. The banquet had been a bloody surprise—Morning Court, however, was a carefully laid trap.
And they were walking directly into it.
25
KAITLYN
Morning Court was held in a different chamber than the banquet hall—a long, narrow room with a vaulted ceiling of stained glass that cast fragmented rainbows across the polished black marble floor. The air was cooler—scented with incense and a faint, metallic tang.
Instead of low couches, there were rows of high-backed chairs along the walls, filled with the noblewomen of the Royal Court. They were all dressed in elaborate, revealing gowns, their expressions a mixture of boredom and sharp-eyed assessment as they watched each other move around the room.
And beside each woman, like a living accessory, stood her husband.
Kaitlyn’s steps faltered for a second as she took it all in. Every single male was restrained in some way. Some wore intricate leather harnesses—others had their wrists bound behind them with silken cords.