Chapter 8 Braze #2
The weight of their performance felt like a lead collar around his neck, but it was immediately crushed under the heavier weight of his earlier transgression.
He had really fucked up, sucking Kaitlyn’s nipples in the throne room.
And now that they were alone, it was time to ”face the music”—as the humans said.
Braze turned to her. The curvy little human stood just inside the door, looking small and stunningly vulnerable in her gown.
Her breasts were still on display—the tight pink nipples still visible.
He had the urge to cup them and held himself back.
Fuck, what was wrong with him? Was he going to repeat the same transgression all over again?
“Kaitlyn,” he began, the words like gravel in his throat. “About what I did in the throne room…” He forced himself to meet her eyes. “I know I fucked up. I never should have sucked your nipples without asking like that. It was a violation of my oath of Protection—a violation of your trust.”
She went pink, a flush that started at her cheeks and swept down her neck, disappearing into the shadowed valley between her gorgeous, heavy breasts.
The sight of that blush traveling over her skin made his cock give another painful throb.
A vicious, hungry part of him wished once more he could do it again—wished to feel her tight peaks stiffen under his tongue…
to taste her salty-sweet skin until she moaned for him.
What the fuck is wrong with you? he berated himself silently. Wanting to commit the same offense twice? You’re fucking losing it.
But then Kaitlyn surprised him.
“I guess I need to apologize too,” she said, her voice quiet but steady. She looked down at her fingers, which were twisted together. “For… for handling you the way I did when I was, er, mapping you.”
“You couldn’t help that,” Braze pointed out quickly, relief that she wasn’t angry flooding him.
“The Mistress of the Wardrobe told you to do it. It was part of the role you’re playing.
” He took a step closer, the manacles feeling heavy on his wrists.
“And…I’d rather you do it than a stranger.
I didn’t want anyone else’s hands on me… Mistress.”
He saw the tension ease from her shoulders, and she looked up, meeting his eyes.
“I was hoping you’d feel that way.” She let out a shaky breath. “I guess while we’re here, we just have to play our roles—otherwise the Empress will never give us the Love Vine.”
“But she’s going to be watching all the time,” Braze said, gesturing subtly with his chin towards the nearest glinting lens in the sconce. “The Mistress of the Wardrobe was right—this place is completely bugged. Visual recording devices everywhere.”
“Which means we’re going to have to be always ‘on,’” Kaitlyn agreed, her gaze following his. She bit her lip, a gesture that was both nervous and distractingly erotic. “I mean, she could be watching us even now, and we’re not exactly acting like a loving couple, are we?”
She moved past him, her feminine scent washing over him, and sat on the large, opulent, black velvet couch. Then she turned and beckoned him with a curl of her fingers.
“Come here…husband.”
Braze came over at once and started to sit beside her—the instinct to protect, to be near—overriding everything else.
But Kaitlyn frowned and shook her head—a slight, decisive motion. Her eyes held his, and in them, he saw not anger, but a determined, nervous calculation. She was clearly getting into her role as his “wife” on this female-led world.
“Kneel,” she ordered and pointed to the thickly carpeted floor at her feet.
The command hit Braze like a physical blow, straight to his groin. His cock surged so hard he actually saw stars for a second.
A vivid, unbidden memory flashed—his old Mistress, in her silken robes, pointing to the floor between her spread thighs.
“Kneel, Beast. Your mouth has a better use than speaking. You’re going to lick me until I come at least twice.”
The memory was tangled with shame and a dark, undeniable thrill. It reminded Braze of the male concubine they’d seen servicing the Empress in the throne room.
He didn’t hesitate for a moment—he sank to his knees on the plush charcoal rug, the fluid movement bringing him to rest facing Kaitlyn as she sat regally on the couch.
She parted her legs, a deliberate, inviting gesture, and he move forward on his knees until he was nestled in the vee of her thighs, close enough to feel her body heat surrounding him.
“Good—that’s very good,” she murmured, and he felt the praise like the softest caress.
Then her fingers were in his hair. They slid through the long, coarse strands, massaging his scalp and tracing the shell of his ear.
Her touch was electric…and possessive.
I own you now, it said. You’re mine to touch whenever and wherever I want.
Chills raced down his spine, and a low, involuntary rumble started deep in his chest. Kneeling for her…
accepting her touch like this—it was sweet, exquisite torture.
He was painfully hard, leaking through the silk panel that covered his aching cock.
Somehow her gentle, dominant petting him was pushing him closer to the edge than even her direct touch had in the Wardrobe.
Fuck, I might actually come if she doesn’t stop, Braze thought.
But he couldn’t fucking bear to ask her not to touch him. He wanted what she was giving him too much to end it voluntarily.
“I hope you don’t mind this,” Kaitlyn said softly, her fingers continuing their gentle exploration. “But since this is a female-led society, I’m afraid I’ll have to at least appear dominant when we’re together like this.”
“I don’t fucking mind,” Braze growled, the words torn from him.
He couldn’t hide the raw need in his voice.
The admission was terrifying and liberating at the same time.
His hips gave a tiny, helpless thrust into empty air.
“You have to pretend to be dominant the same way I have to pretend to be submissive,” he added.
A faint, knowing smile touched Kaitlyn’s luscious lips.
“I’m glad you don’t mind,” she murmured, her nails scraping deliciously against the back of his neck. “Because we both have to play our roles while we’re here.”
“Exactly,” he agreed, grasping at the lifeline she’d thrown him. The relief he felt was dizzying. “We’re just playing roles. That’s all.”
That’s all. The thought was a revelation—an escape hatch from his own guilt.
At last, he could give in. He could let the submissive tendencies he’d fought for years rise to the surface.
He could crave her touch, obey her commands, and kneel to her whenever she ordered him to.
It would all be in service to their mission—a cover story so perfect it felt like the absolute truth.
The realization unleashed a surge of desire so deep and vast it nearly stole his breath. Braze suddenly needed to be closer to her—to lean into the fiction until it felt real.
He bent forward—a supplicant’s move—and laid his head in her lap. The silky fabric of her skirt was soft against his cheek and under it, her flesh was even softer.
He turned his face inward, nuzzling the tender skin of her inner thigh through the fabric. He inhaled her scent, deep and warm and uniquely Kaitlyn.
Gods, he wanted her so fucking badly!
“Do whatever you want with me, Mistress,” he heard himself say, the title falling from his lips with total ease.
“Oh, Braze…” she murmured but she didn’t stop stroking his hair.
He pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her inner thigh, feeling her muscle jump beneath his lips. He wanted to kiss higher…to taste her sweet pussy and hear her moan his name. But he reluctantly admitted to himself that would be going too far.
“I’ll be your bodyslave… your husband. Whatever you want me to do, or whatever you need to do to me, it doesn’t matter.” He lifted his head slightly, meeting her wide, startled eyes. “After all, we’re here on a mission. And we have to get that fucking Love Vine.”
For a long moment, she just looked down at him, her fingers stilled in his hair. He saw the conflict in her face—professional resolve warring with something else—something warmer…darker…and just as hungry as the emotions churning inside him.
Or was he imagining all that? Was he reading into it—hoping she was as into playing these new roles as he was? Braze didn’t know—he hoped he hadn’t pushed things too far.
But finally, Kaitlyn nodded. Her hand resumed its slow, gentle stroking.
“Yes,” she agreed, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re right. Whatever we have to do… we must complete the mission.”