“Which toy would you like me to use on you, Apollo?” I asked him in my sexiest purr.

“You may choose, Prophetess.”

I nodded, looking over the selection. I chose a long white feather, ripped the package, and slipped it out.

When we’d made it to the sofa, I reached out, grabbed the buckle on his pants, and pulled. I loosened his belt and then unbuttoned his pants, feeling the heavy, expensive weight of the fabric, which must have been fine wool. He stood there silently, his eyes on me the whole time. When I unzipped the fly and started to lower his pants, he said, “Stop.”

I did as I was told, waiting for my next direction.

He looked me over carefully, then motioned his chin in my direction. “Take it all off.”

I nodded, lifting the straps of my camisole and sliding it off my body so that my breasts sprang free. Then I slowly wiggled my skirt to the ground. When I looked up, he was watching me curiously.

“No heels?”

He said it the way he’d made the pearls comment, like it was something to be ashamed of. I shook my head as I kicked off the skirt, leaving myself bare to him, except for the shoes and my thong. “Sorry.”

“Take everything off, then.”

There could be no other answer except to do what he asked. Of course, he liked to have all the power, whether or not it corrupted him absolutely. I stepped out of the shoes, then lifted the strings on either hip bone and let the last barrier between me and complete nakedness fall to the floor. He gazed at me without a word, but before I could wonder if he liked what he saw, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the flask. He lifted his mask to take a long gulp. Once capped, it took three tries before he was able to successfully slide it into his pocket, his eyes were so intent on me. It was then I felt the power shift into my court.

“May I continue?” I asked.

“Not yet.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a long chain. “Go behind me, and put this on.”

I stared at it. “What—”

“I think you will figure it out, Cassandra.”

He puddled the chain in the palm of my hand, and I stepped back to a paneled changing area. I lifted the chain up and looked at it. It split into thirds at the center and had little clamps on each of the three ends.

I swallowed as realization dawned. The power was back in his court.

Taking a breath, I opened the first of the clamps and closed it gently on my nipple. It wasn’t pain, but pressure. My nipples had already peaked, so I was quicker to fasten on the second one. Then I reached between my legs, and finding the nub of my clit, attached the third clamp. I let out a soft whimper, then straightened.

My fucking god, I felt hot. Sexy. So wet.

I stepped around the panel, revealing myself for his appraisal. His eyes scanned me, and he let out a heavy breath. “It doesn’t hurt you, does it?”

“No,” I said, testing out the feeling. The pressure had begun to subside, and now, every time I moved, my clit and nipples felt a shot of stimulation.

“How do you feel?”

“Strange, but in a good way. A little embarrassed,” I answered honestly. “But extremely, well…”

“You look incredibly hot,” he said, which was exactly how I felt. My whole body zinged, on fire.

“May I continue now? I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

He nodded, spreading his arms out as if to say I was all his.

I applied pressure to his shoulders, instructing him to sit. Then I knelt between his thighs, unbuttoning each one of the buttons very slowly on his vest. He watched me do so without a word, without attempting to help speed it along. Maybe he was turned on by the sight of a naked woman undressing him. That was why I did everything in slow motion, being careful when I opened his vest, then his white dress shirt, baring that gorgeous, caramel-colored chest. I reached for the feather and skimmed it over his skin, using it to pull the fabric open. As I did, I planted chaste kisses on each of his nipples — I couldn’t resist — and felt him let out a shuddery breath.

The power was now shifting again.

I concentrated on removing his heavy cuff links, taking special care over the undoubtedly expensive watch that he wore over one exquisitely muscled, masculine forearm. In the depths of this exploration, the need for him was returning. I could feel it uncoiling again, deep in my abdomen, like a hungry snake.

When I was done, I tugged down his pants, reaching into the warm confines and finding the waistband of his boxer briefs. He lifted his hips, allowing me to pull them down, and his cock, already stiffening, sprang free.

I dropped the feather to the floor. At first, I could do nothing but stare. I had never seen such a thing in all my life. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Turned out, the frontrunner for the White House in 2024 was hung.

“You’re huge,” was all I could finally manage, and it came out in a tumble. The power shifted again.

He sat there, legs spread apart, with me between them, hands resting on his thighs, and I could feel the smile creeping up on his face, even if I couldn’t see it. “All the better to fuck you with, my dear.”

I couldn’t fight the smile. The mask had a way of leering at me like the Big Bad Wolf, and I had a good idea he was going to make me his meal. God, I wanted it so much, wanted him in me so much, I positively trembled at the idea.

Spurred on by the thought, I lifted the weight of his cock, feeling it in my hand, and as I leaned forward, the chains on the device I was wearing swung, brushing against my skin in odd ways, pulling slightly, tearing a sigh of pleasure from my throat. I touched my tongue to the very tip of his cock. I licked and tasted his deliciously salty skin. Emboldening my explorations, I trailed my tongue downward, over the mushroom head, leaving not a bit of spongy flesh dry. I licked on, traveling down the length of him until his head fell back, his gaze on the ceiling and his five o’clock shadow visible beneath the mask.

He threaded his fingers through my hair and groaned as I took the whole head into my mouth, flicking my tongue over the surface in quick little motions. He was fully hard now, and bigger than I knew what to do with, but I was up to this challenge. I sucked down as far as I could, until I felt him at the back of my throat. “Just like that,” he murmured, pushing my head back down when I’d come up.

But he didn’t need to put in the effort. I instinctively knew what to do, and was already enjoying this too much. Sucking off the undeniably egotistical asshole, destroyer of toads, who happened to be hung like a buffalo. I sucked him deep into my throat, savoring the way his cock pulsated between my lips, like a real, living thing with a mind of its own. Every time I moved on him, I felt as if I were usurping his power, as if it were passing to me. He’d been trying to control me, but I could feel the tables shifting now, fully and irreversibly, to my side.

As I throated him deep and he started to twitch erratically, he let out a ragged breath — so close.

My next move was easy. I pulled away suddenly, his cock falling to his abdomen, and when I saw the utter desperation in his eyes, I knew it better than I knew anything.

I would soon own him.

I stood up and walked to the table of sex toys, holding back a gasp as the pull of the chains made a yearning stab through my core. Finding a condom, I ripped it open and took my time walking back to him, counting his excited, tortured breaths. When I returned, I climbed on his lap, hovered over him, eye to eye. “If you can tilt your mask back to drink scotch, you can tilt it back to kiss me.”

He nodded, captured.

I lifted his cock, rolling the condom on.

Feeling him pulse against my palm, I held it erect, positioned myself over the tip, and sank down, taking him in, inch by inch.

We growled in unison as he filled me. I’d never before felt the entwining of pain and pleasure so clearly. When I’d buried him to the hilt inside me, and our bodies were flush against one another, I looked down, pushing aside the fabric of his shirt to get a better view. I sighed, thinking I’d never seen anything so perfect in my life. When I faced him, I realized he was gazing at me too. Sweat had begun to trickle down his temple. And I thought Mr. Conservative had been trained to keep cool.

“Cassandra,” he whispered, his eyes meeting mine as he reached between us and tugged on the chain. I groaned in pleasure and pain as I ground myself hard against him.

Then, still looking into my eyes, he slowly tilted the mask back over his nose and kissed me for the first time.

I’d never felt such an erotic kiss, as I sat on his lap, naked, him buried inside me. We didn’t move our lower halves for the longest time. He concentrated on the kiss, bringing his hands to the sides of my head, and really, really kissing me. His tongue worked deeply into my mouth, fucking my mouth so thoroughly, the way he must have sensed I’d been dreaming of since our first meeting. It was personal, more intimate, somehow, and definitely romantic. Our mouths worked together hungrily, until I’d explored every hair of stubble on his chin, until my face had been rubbed raw and red. For the first time, I felt like we weren’t just body parts moving together to find a release like everyone else in this club.

No. We were lovers.

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