I look down at my submissive pet for the evening, giving him a somber nod that he may begin. He licks his lips again, and his thighs flex as he pushes against the floor with his feet. His backrest slides up, the motion causing his stiff erection to bounce slightly when it locks into place, his face squarely beneath my spread cheeks. I suppress a gasp of surprise at the sensation of his warm breath gusting against my pussy.
This is the feeling I’ve ached for since I began this quest to reclaim my power—the anticipation of pleasure strong enough to get my blood pumping even before any contact. I’ve sought it for six months without success. That isn’t to say I haven’t enjoyed every evening spent on this throne with a submissive’s tongue buried between my thighs, but this is the first time I’ve craved the pleasure without even being touched.
I force myself into some semblance of composure befitting a queen, force my gaze up from my subject’s impressive cock, and scan the onlookers beyond the window. The audience is enthralled, even more so than usual. It seems my submissive is as fascinating to them as he is to me.
“Fucking heaven,” he murmurs, and I bite the inside of my mouth to control my reaction to the warmth of his words teasing my sensitive flesh. A deep groan emanates from his chest and his restraints creak. He grips the handholds and his biceps flex as he lifts himself closer to my exposed core, and a moment later, his hot tongue makes one long, languid swipe from my clit all the way to my ass.
I arch my back with a gasp, so surprised by the immensity of the pleasure I nearly lose track of my surroundings. I reach up to grip the carved finials at the top corners of my throne and spread my legs wider.
Behind me, Percy lets out a breath of surprise as if he’s just as invested in my pleasure as I am. I tilt my head back to look at him. Our gazes lock past our masks, and for the first time since I’ve known him, I catch a spark of true desire in his eyes. I’ve never offered an invitation for him to join in before, and he’s never expressed an interest. But tonight I throw caution to the wind.
“You have my permission to touch me, Percival,” I whisper.
His lips part and he dry-swallows, then blinks as if he’s coming out of a trance.
“Gwen… er… my queen, it would be my absolute honor to assist in giving you pleasure. May I?”
A thick lock of blond hair falls over his forehead as he looks down at me, first at my mouth before his gaze drifts to my breasts. I release the top of the throne and drop my hands to the arms, pushing my breasts up in invitation. My attention splits between the expert tongue buried in my pussy, lapping at my clit, and the lightest brush of Percy’s fingertips against my skin as he reaches over my shoulders to cup my breasts.