While Po was wondering when rather than if the prince would ask John to surrender her for the same activity, a servant arrived with a tray of small silver objects.
“For you to use on your slave,” the satin-dressed man said, offering the tray lower, at John’s height.
It let her see the objects too—tiny clamps and bells and another thing that resembled a cock… with spikes. John’s eyebrows rose.
“Thank you. Put it there.”
The servant slid the tray onto the table.
He wouldn’t, of course, but she checked his face to be sure and could tell nothing.
“You wouldn’t?” she asked, out the side of her mouth because the prince was watching them.
“Let’s see.”
The prince called out. “She is next, good guest. I cannot make exceptions.”
“But as a guest, do I not have rights also, lord?”
The ripple of laughter from the men said otherwise.
“As in, this tray of gifts to decorate her with—is that an alternative, Prince Drake?”
“I expected both. Those on her.” He pointed down the table, the cloth of it strewn with dropped food and dirty plates. “Then this, in her, by my hand.” He held up a cone of ginger with a flared base and wiggled it in the air.
“I see. I’ll concede the decorations but would like to challenge the prince to a game I hear he loves—dragon chess. Nar-quar-do.”
It struck her then, that perhaps this had been John’s plan from the night before. To plant the seed. She hadn’t known it was a game the prince enjoyed.
“Ahhh.” He rocked back from his cross-legged position then wiggled the ginger again. “You are devious. I like that. We shall play for the higher stakes then. If I win, I insert this in her and get to play with her tonight, however I wish to.”
Play? Her eyelids sprang wider.
“And if you lose, you do not,” John drawled.
“Oh no, I will not make it that simple. Besides, I suspect you must be quite an expert at chess since you can defeat demons. If you win, you play with her, before us, and make her climax, but nothing false will be accepted. I want to hear cries of joy and pain and would still prefer something inserted.” The smile spreading on the prince was smug, and altogether too knowing. “We will bargain, perhaps.”
Oh no. Oh no. She looked to John, and he was nodding.
She was about to protest when she realized she could not. Besides, John had pulled the tray to him and was picking up an object that glinted, something with teeth and little chains that jingled.
The prince sang out to a servant, clapping his hands. “Bring my set! And John, sir, once attached, those stay on the girl for the whole game.”
He nodded then turned to her, and she would swear his mouth twitched as if he struggled not to smile. Certainly, she saw a gleam in his eye. “Take down the front of your dress, girl.”
Her mouth fell open, then Po found herself heating with a familiar tingle blossoming lower.
Ridiculous. And shameful.
He angled himself closer, took the side of her neck with his hand. “You may not like this on you, but I will.” His knuckle grazed her sensitive nipple through the dress before he reached for the tray.
The surge of sensations, from that lightest of touches, bewildered.
“You—” she began, gathering her indignation. No. I cannot speak.
His words and gaze on her, the dangle of the silver clamp, spinning, glinting, and knowing that he wanted these attached to her… Bemused, she was more than a little bemused.
The little clamps and linking chains ran to silver bells.
“No protesting. Remember? Besides…” Already he was gently pulling her dress down her arms and below her bra. Blinking, she let him. He tucked the cloth in place beneath and scooped her breasts from the bra. “I like doing this.”
Watching him put his warm hands on her breasts, in public, tossed her into an alternate world, where she was not the ruler, and she was indeed his obedient slave. Where she was required to submit and should enjoy what was done to her.
She dragged her teeth inward, over her lip, and inhaled then shakily exhaled.
His callouses scraped her skin as he lifted her breasts, caressing her, his thumbs feathering over her nipples. It was a shocking turn-on.
While still fondling her, he put his mouth to her ear. “Are you getting horny, princess girl?”
She swallowed twice, before she could answer, for the brush of his rough palms on her skin was enough to make her sigh dreamily.
“Maybe. Ummm—” He pinched both nipples, if lightly. Oh. “Yes.”
“Good. These will hurt, but I want you to sit very still and take it. But first I need these very, very hard.”
His head ducked and before she could pull away, he was sucking on one nipple then had switched to the other. They were wet, rigid, and the men around them were cheering him on. Below, she felt her clit swell and press against her underwear.
“Take a breath and hold it. Move and the teeth may scratch you.”
She closed her eyes, unwilling to see this happen, though the search of the metal jaws for a place to land then the abrupt closure, the excruciating pressure and pain, had her squeaking and snapping open her eyes.
It tinkled.
“See. Nothing.” John smiled.
“You are evil.” So was the clamp.
“Indeed, but it is for a good cause. Shhh.”
He stroked his finger down her lips then took her second nipple and did the same, only this time she watched and knew, a fraction of a second before it did so, that the jaw would close.
Her muffled sound was accompanied by a twist of her lips. She breathed through the alarming throb-throb of pain. Po shifted on the cushion,