That seemed a deliberately lewd act, and then he stuck that finger into his mouth and pushed it deep, pulled it out, then smiled. Definitely lewd.
John hissed at her.
“Turn.”
Heart hammering, Po obeyed, aware of her sexuality on display, of the ridiculous situation this placed her in—on a table at a banquet, as if she were a part of the meal. Dessert, as it were.
The men hooted and called out. A few told her to bend over and spread her legs. She did not. She frowned, tempted to lecture them,
John intervened. “Enough, gentlemen! Get dressed, girl. You’re my property, not theirs. Get down and get dressed.”
In the middle of her reaching for his hand to steady her descent, the prince spoke.
“Wait. I have a question for your master. Those spectacles, sir. They violate my etiquette provisions. Why have you not removed them? I suggest you do so immediately.”
John turned, bowed. “Lord… I have reasons.”
She straightened, still naked but feeling as if she should take charge of this, looking from John to the prince, and back again. Did the Kostanians not have a fear of the Underworld and tend to flay witches and wizards? Or was that the Yongda tribesmen to the north? Her education had been designed to hold up in battle, under threat of rains of arrows, of slicing swords and the fling of catapults, and not on pain of being violated while nude at a feast.
Flustered, head swimming, she decided on a rescue. If she were right, she might save John from being exorcised and flayed.
And if wrong? Too late.
“Lord.” Hurriedly she knelt and bowed her head exceptionally low before peeking.
He had sat forward and now waved a hand. “You wish to speak, slave?”
“Yes, lord.”
“Then speak.”
“My master… wears those because a wizard cast him into Hell. He fought his way out to save me, but his eyes were burned, and now he must wear dark glasses to prevent his eyes from being hurt by light.” A good story, yes? Close to what John said had happened but skewed enough to make him seem normal.
“He fought his way out of Hell?” Prince Drake, for once, seemed dumbfounded.
Okay so maybe that part wasn’t normal. What had she done? Still, if they saw his eyes, his burning eyes…
The man clearing his throat must be John. “Lord, may I add to her explanation?”
“Please do. This could only get more interesting.”
Every guest was rivetted by this, though she supposed some were more consumed by watching the jiggle of her boobs, as the commoners termed that part of female anatomy. Carefully, she picked up the dress, then stood, was raising her arms to slip it over her head, when John grabbed her ankle.
“Thank you! Stay unclothed, girl.” The latter was an aside for her. “It is true I fought my way from Hell, but the wizard left me a sword that vanquished demons, though the last one I fought over a game of Nar-quar-do, and I checkmated him with a dragon.”
Why was he embellishing? To distract?
“And so this brings me to her punishment, lord. I think you will like it.”
The prince’s eyebrows rose as one. “Go on. Why is this?”
“I told her she was not to speak without my permission, and she only asked for yours. For this error I will spank her for the enjoyment of all.”
Oh. Oh no.
John favored her with a piercing glare. “Kneel where you are.” Unable to do anything else that wouldn’t condemn her, Po kneeled again. He sidled closer, hand still on her ankle. “Do as I say.” He sat on the edge of the low table and patted his knee. “Get yourself here. Crawl and lie on me.”
Her eyes definitely widened at that. This would not be forgotten. He was taking liberties she could never forgive, and why? In front of all these—
Then he reached across and grabbed a big handful of her hair, twisted his fingers so they tightened on her scalp. He pulled her to him. Unbalanced, she lurched, and her hands landed on his thigh. It was that or fall onto her face. Man muscle under her palms, a hard hand in her hair forcing her to obey, and… magicking up subtle pain that prickled inward.
She gulped, let out an exhale as the room did a jig, shifted, and sank.
Wincing, breathing harder and faster, with her eyelids shuttering, Po found herself wanting his hands on her.
His big, hard, strong hands, on her.
Their eyes met. Whatever his reasons, heat was building below. Between her legs ached, and she felt herself swell, and surely some wetness leaked. Her face blushed hot. She was naked and responding to him.
Mortifying. Arousal was not for a whole room of men.
John pulled again, and she crawled over him because she must, then she lay on him, belly down. He was silent as he arranged her on his lap. A second later, she squeaked and clutched at air then the floor cushion, for he’d shifted and moved her down his legs, and she could not grip the table for support. Her toes treadled the rug on the floor behind her.
Thank heavens, her rear faced away from the men.
John’s hand arrived on her ass. He cupped a part of it and squeezed. “Now,” he said quietly, “To see if you will scream for me when I spank you. How many!” he yelled.
The for me resonated with her. Though he promised pain. Her disloyal clit engorged and pulsed with need.
“Five!”
“Twenty!”
“Fifty-two!”
They all laughed.
“Let’s make it ten, shall we…” She felt him lean forward and kiss one side of
