Chapter 34
Aleksandr
A Master King?
Her words from earlier settled deep into my soul. Knowing she was held captive for two agonizing years, where she was mentally and physically tortured, exploited, and exposed to extremely depraved sexual acts, all under the guise of training, had me walking a fine line.
Despite everything, my beautiful little pet held the resilience to bounce back. She was so strong; it blew me away. Sharing my concerns with her in the manner I did was only so she could see the value in listing her soft and hard limits.
Her list would be the jumping-off point for us. Negotiations would be forthcoming, but without it, we were flying blind, and it would be irresponsible to proceed further. For her safety and ours, the list was crucial.
I had no expectation that she’d ever consider calling me Master, given her initial response to it, and now that she wanted to, I couldn’t do anything but radiate joy. I hadn’t realized until the declaration left my mouth how much I craved that with her.
Over the years, as I grew, the desire to be in a committed relationship within the kink community changed. Partly because of who and what we did, but there was more to it. The responsibility of being someone’s true Master was huge.
Sure, trainees called me that, but it was only in the context of training. As soon as their time was over, I became Alek outside of work-related conversations and Sir during them.
Longing for something deeper made me realize how much I needed her and wanted that closeness. Kinsley was everything I never knew I needed and more. I would collar her, even if it took me the next five years to gain her trust. I would work for it because she was worth it.
She grasped my arm before we walked into the dining room, getting my attention. Her desperation was already growing. I sported a devious grin, loving every second of her needy look. It was all mine tonight, and I wanted to draw her exactly like this.
“Let me remind you, in case you are tempted to forget. You do not have my permission to come, especially at the dining room table, in front of my parents.”
“Yes, Master,” she whimpered, and I had to hold back my laughter as she tried to breathe through the sensations.
She slid into her chair, cheeks coloring deeper than the wine on the table.
A slow breath steadied her, but the tension around her shoulders said it all.
She took a deep breath to calm herself. Clearly, she was being edged by the balls.
I would have to share this with the guys.
I couldn’t wait to explore more deeply with her, uncover all her kinks.
“Kinsley, dear, are you all right? You look quite flushed,” my mother asked, which only caused her blush to deepen. I chuckled as my father gave her a rather peculiar look.
“I’m fine, Mrs. King. Thank you for asking.” Her voice shook. God, I loved seeing her this way.
“It’s Sophia, dear. Christopher told me you found a book your mother used to read to you. That’s so sweet. It used to be Ivan’s favorite. He’d make me read it over and over.”
“Not the one with the wishing flower petals?” I groaned.
“Yes, dear, that’s the one. Oh, how he liked to tell me about all the things he’d wish for,” my mother said sweetly. Her voice was soft as she reminisced about a younger Ivan.
“You, me, Vanya, Nik, and anyone else who would listen to him. I swear, for a year, it was seven different things a day he’d want to talk about.
Not even like ‘these are my seven wishes.’ No, it was a long, drawn-out conversation about how those wishes could affect and change the world,” I said, shaking my head.
“That’s because he has the heart of a true King,” Kinsley offered as she placed her napkin in her lap.
“Oh, really, and which King would that be?” I asked, pulling her chair closer to me, knowing the movement would be electric. The ever presence of honeysuckle lingered around her as I leaned closer.
“King David,” she breathed out, closing her eyes and then opening them as she heard me laugh. My father cleared his throat.
“Do you mean from the Bible, dear?” my mother asked without missing a beat.
“Yes, ma’am. Prior to Alek’s obsessiveness with following me around town and stalking my places of employment, I used to attend church regularly,” she said sweetly. I shook my head.
“Kinsley tends to exaggerate, Mother. I was not obsessively following or stalking her.”
“Ha, I may exaggerate, but on that, I’m not. I even had an appointment with the chief of police to file a complaint.”
My mother looked horrified as my father chuckled. I leaned over and whispered in her ear. “You’re in so much trouble, young lady. Keep it up.” Then I sat back and watched as the emotions washed over her.
“Okay, I wasn’t really going to file a complaint—not that it would have made a difference, since he and the chief were buddy-buddy.
” She folded her hands in her lap, all prim and proper-like.
“Anyway, Ivan has a gentle heart. I bet all of his wishes were for other people and never for himself.” She looked at my mother knowingly.
“Suck up,” I said in her ear, laughing. She stuck her tongue out, and my eyes zeroed in on it.
Dinner was more relaxed than I thought it would be.
If nothing else, my mother’s social etiquette charms were on full display.
Kinsley and my father spoke about some of the first editions he had and the cavalier attitude toward books that people, in general, seemed to have these days.
I listened, closely watching their exchange.
“I’ll never understand how normal people are so unaffected by books,” she said with a flair of drama.
“Exactly,” my father exclaimed. My mother plastered a look on her face that said “I hear you talking, but I’m mentally somewhere else.” I chuckled as she caught my eye.
“I’m always astonished. They finish a book and are like “it was good,” and then they move on, never giving it much thought. Meanwhile, I’m left having an existential crisis, dreaming about the characters and questioning the entirety of the universe,” Kinsley said passionately.
“And you wonder why Ivan calls you a drama queen,” I said, running my hand down her arm. Touching her was all I could think about. Her skin was warm and soft under my fingertips.
“Ha, he doesn’t call me a drama queen, and you know it. But he does say I’m dramatic.”
“Same thing.”
“I have a copy of The Gutenberg Bible,” my father said, watching her face closely.
“Really! Do you ever look at it?” Excitement washed over her, and she danced in the seat.
“Not often,” he answered. I let out the laughter I was holding back as I read the crushed look on her sweet face, and her body instantly stopped moving.
“Father, now you’re just being mean.”
“Right you are, Son. Christopher, stop teasing the child,” my mother admonished.
“I’ll show it to you tomorrow, if you’d like,” my father said, winking.
In her excitement, she got up and rushed over to hug him. Big mistake: halfway over, the balls’ movement registered inside her. And by the look on her face, it must have been in the most incredible way. I erupted in laughter as she clenched her legs together.
She threw a glare my way, one that should’ve come with a warning label as she practically waddled back to her seat. God, she was comical. She looked like she had forgotten how to walk.
“My sweet girl,” I breathed in her ear as my mother and father talked about some friends they had plans with for dinner tomorrow. “How’s my little kitty feeling?” I whispered, dipping my tongue in her ear.
“Do you really want to know?” She’d taken to sitting as still as she could.
“Mm-hmm, I do.”
My parents turned their attention back to us.
“What was that?” my mother asked. My face froze momentarily as I tried to figure out what would be appropriate to say. The little shit beat me to it.
“Alek was asking how I was feeling.” She wore a half smirk; I narrowed my eyes and shook my head in warning.
“Is everything okay? And with your room? Did you need something? We could go shopping tomorrow, if you’d like,” Mother said, ever the gracious host.
“No, everything is perfect. I was feeling a bit on edge, is all. Still am, actually, but I’m sure by the end of the evening, I’ll be right as rain,” she announced.
My father threw his head back and laughed, then toasted her. I once more leaned to whisper in her ear. “You’re so naughty. I won’t forget this.” At that, she swallowed hard.
Chef Bonfils brought dessert in. He flashed her a look, and I tried to read it but was confused.
“I’m in no way responsible for this dessert, Mr. and Mrs. King.
The child here spent the better part of her day destroying my kitchen in her attempt to impress your son,” he said, a bemused look crossing his face.
“And you call me dramatic. I’ll have you know I put everything back,” she whispered as my father chuckled again.
“How sweet, kitten. Please tell me it is a dacquoise. It looks like one,” I exclaimed as my parents watched us closely. She nodded as Chef Bonfils sliced it up and dished it out. She held her breath as we tasted it.
It was delicious, and as we told her, she flushed a beautiful shade of red. She then surprised me by insisting Chef Bonfils have a slice.
“Please, I’d love to know your thoughts, with you being French and all. I know the dessert originated from the city of Dax in the South of France.”
“It’s not a traditional dacquoise. An adaptation, but a very, very, très délicieux version.” He complimented her in his own way before leaving the dining room.
“It’s so damn tasty.” I licked my lips. The gesture made her gasp, and I wondered if she was thinking about the video I sent her earlier.
It was a simple video of me licking, sucking, and biting into a small orange. Since she loved it when I growled, I added that as well. I layered text over it that said, “What it sounds like when I’m between my sweet kitten’s legs.”
She moaned, and I leaned in and warned, “Breathe through it.”
A look of confusion passed over her face when dinner ended and I didn’t take her straight back to her room.
But my parents insisted we adjourn to the drawing room for drinks, as I knew they would.
All I could do was hold back my laughter as a permanent scowl covered her pretty face.
Mumbling under her breath, she went on and on about nonexistent luck.
“My husband said he caught you singing in the kitchen this afternoon. Do you sing professionally as well?”
I gave her credit—Mother was genuinely trying. She was still uncomfortable with our arrangement, but because it was strictly Kinsley and I tonight, I figured she’d decided to pretend.
“A little. Not professionally or anything like that. My mother taught me,” Kinsley murmured.
“Maybe you can sing something for us?” she suggested.
“Yes, I’d love to hear you sing again. She doesn’t do it nearly enough.”
Kinsley turned frantic eyes toward me. A silent plea was exchanged, and I tried to control my desire not to laugh hysterically.
“I want to hear you sing,” I said, knowing my tone told her it wasn’t optional.
“As you wish. What are you in the mood for?” she asked with the innocence of a small child, but oh, the look in her eyes was anything but.
“Surprise me, kotyonok,” I teased.
My mother sighed and leaned her head against my father, while my girl moved to connect her phone to the audio Bluetooth system and pulled up a track. She did not disappoint. Her voice was sensual and full of the arousal coursing through her as she crooned the lyrics.
Flooring me once again, she made my cock ache fiercely with her little performance. Each lyric had me envisioning her under me as I fucked her to the song. She grinned mischievously, swaying to the music, even though the balls inside her had to be tormenting her.
I could read her so well. Her eyes never left mine as she sang her heart out. And I kept cocking my head to the side in warning each time she looked like she was going to tip over the ledge. As she sang the last notes, I stood.