Knights and Kink Romance Boxed Set (25 page)

I seemed to have a real talent in the dominatrix
department. Maybe it was high time for me to go invest in a leather
jumpsuit and some whips.

Maybe I could even open my own business specializing
in Congressional clients—because from what I’d seen thus far, rich
and powerful Congressmen sure liked being bossed around in the
bedroom.

I wondered what would happen if their constituents
knew about that. I figured a lot more would get done in our
government if word ever got out that all voters had to do was show
up at their elected representatives’ houses dressed in black
leather carrying a cat-o-nine-tails and a set of handcuffs in order
to get their senator or representative to fix their Social Security
or vote to re-route noisy airline flight paths.

“Yes, Slave, I will address you as Slave from now
on,” I boomed at the Congressman. (My voice was so deep, loud, and
sultry that Rebecca stopped pleasuring herself mid-stroke and
immediately jerked her head in our direction.) “But I also hereby
command you to address me as Mistress Hyacinth from now on. That
command applies to both of you. The name Jasmine Rand does not
exist in our sex play. Understood?”

Jacob nodded. Rebecca smiled, got up from her perch
on the bed and sauntered over. “Understood,” she cooed. “You know
Jasmine—I mean, Mistress Hyacinth—I always thought you’d make a
good dominatrix.” With that, she kissed me open-mouthed, with lots
of tongue.

I kissed her back for a moment, relishing the taste
of her, but then remembering my position as the boss lady of these
proceedings, pushed her away. “Thanks for the compliment, Rebecca,
but you and I need to establish what our relationship is going to
be here,” I said. “If you’re going to be my Slave, then you can’t
touch or kiss me without permission. On the other hand, if you’d
like to be my co-dominatrix—“

“Then we can
both
dominate Jacob,” she
finished. “Which is exactly what we had in mind when we came down
here in the first place. And if that works out okay for you, we
were hoping to get in on some of your
other
engagements here
at the resort, too. Isn’t that right, Jacob—I mean, Slave?”

The Congressman grinned and nodded, then cast a
subtle glance downward at his swollen equipment, as if to suggest
that we stop talking and start bumping and grinding.

“We can continue this discussion after
this
little bit of fun is over,” I said. “In the meantime, Rebecca, I’ll
need you and your cute little Congressman here to get on all
fours.”

They both obeyed me without question.

I was really starting to enjoy this whole
dominatrix-power thing.

I mulled over what I could do with the two of them
in such an uncompromising position. Spanking was certainly in
order. Maybe even some probing of certain secret passages. My
crotch temperature went up fourfold as my mind raced with
possibilities. If only Reginald hadn’t snarfed my Rabbit—then I
could leverage the lessons I’d learned from Mistress Violet and
have some serious fun with those two fleshy, upturned behinds.

And as if on cue, there was a knock at the door—our
room service. I directed Rebecca and Jacob to crawl on all fours to
the space on the other side of the king-sized bed to hide from the
delivery boy. “Don’t come out until I say the coast is clear,” I
said.

But when I opened the door, I was stunned to find
Reginald standing there with the rolling metal cart that carried
our meals. “Good evening, madam,” he said with a wink and a bow. “I
have brought your dinner. I must say, it is quite a lot of food for
just one person. Do you perhaps have guests?”

I decided to evade that question for the moment and
test the waters instead. “Why, Reginald! What are you doing here?
The bell desk said you’d gone home for the evening.”

“Home for me is just the dorm on the far side of the
resort. It’s not far for me to go to come back to work.”

I raised one eyebrow at him, suspicious. Something
told me that low-paying bellboy work wasn’t what had brought him to
my room at all.

He caught my drift immediately. “And when I heard
you had ordered so much food, I just had to come and find out why.”
Reginald raised his own eyebrows suggestively. “The
callaloo
that is served here on the resort is my mother’s old-time family
recipe, by the way. She made by far the best
callaloo
on the
island. Very, very spicy.”

Reginald swept past me, pushing the cart before him.
He removed each chrome lid from each steaming dish with a flourish,
and spent too much time arranging the plates on the dining table.
He seemed to be searching for reasons to stay in my suite as long
as possible, and kept casting alluring glances in my direction.

Excellent. He was playing right into my hands—as I’m
sure he intended to.

“Tell me, Reginald,” I cooed. “You’re not
really
back at work right now, are you?”

He blushed underneath his beautiful coffee-colored
skin. “Alas, no. I am here for my own selfish reasons only. And
also I feel a little guilty for what I took from you this
afternoon.” He reached into his deep apron pocket and produced my
Rabbit vibrator. “I was wrong to take this from you,” he said. “I
wonder if perhaps you have already missed it?”

I smiled. “As a matter of fact, I was just thinking
about how much I needed this right now.”

Reginald placed the Rabbit in my outstretched hand.
My fingers closed around it, savoring its cool, slightly sticky
resin surface. “Thank you for returning it, Reginald. You don’t
know how much it means to me.”

Reginald gave me a slow, single nod to show he
understood. He finished fussing over the food, and pushed the empty
service cart towards the doorway. But then he stopped short.

He turned around to face me, his expression blank.
But the slow, sensual movement of his limbs gave his true
intentions away. “Will you be requiring anything further, madam?”
he asked, his gaze sweeping my body from stem to stern.

“Why yes, there is one more thing,” I replied in a
husky voice. “My friends and I are having a little dinner party. It
would be lovely if you would consider joining us.”

Reginald grinned a mile wide. “My pleasure,” he
said, giving me another one of his gentlemanly, Old World-style
bows. “I am at your service. Anything that you and your friends
desire, I shall provide. You need only say the word.”

“Good,” I said. “Follow me, please.”

I guided Reginald over to the far side of the suite,
where Rebecca and her Congressman lover waited patiently on all
fours, like two immovable, naked human tables. “We were just
getting ready for dinner, you see,” I purred. “You’re just in
time.”

Chapter
17

A very large, very pointy tent was rapidly forming
in Reginald’s red polyester bellboy trousers.

“Shall I serve dinner now?” he asked. “I think know
the most delicious way possible for you and your friends to enjoy
our wonderful island cuisine.”

“Yes, of course,” I said, eager to see what Reginald
had in mind. “Go ahead.”

“I think perhaps the young gentleman here would like
to start out with some nice warm
callaloo
and a side of
fried plantains,” Reginald offered. He took the bowl of steaming
hot
callalloo
from the table and began to ladle it onto
Rebecca’s bare back. She hissed as the hot, spicy stew scalded her
skin—but she didn’t tell him to stop, either. Instead, she arched
her body downward like a cat’s, creating a little bowl of sorts in
the middle of her back where the aromatic island dish began to
pool. Once there was a healthy serving of
callaloo
filling
up the hollow of Rebecca’s long, lithe backside, Reginald decorated
the edges of her back with a ring of crispy fried plantains. The
effect was a beautiful, artfully arranged serving of St. Lucian
haute cuisine,
as neat and lovely as anything served in the
resort’s four-star restaurant—only the serving plate was an
attractive young woman’s soft, milky skin instead of cold, hard
porcelain.

Rebecca began to sway a little bit from the effort
to keep the hot food from rolling off her back. Jacob glanced over
his shoulder in my direction, his expression quizzical. Like a good
little Slave, he was awaiting my instructions.

“Slave, you may eat your meal now,” I said. “But you
are
not
to use your hands. Only your mouth. Hurry up, it’s
getting cold.”

Jacob obeyed. He leaned over Rebecca’s body, and got
started on the fun by lapping up the
callaloo
with his
tongue. Taking brief paused between licks to gobble up the
plaintains, Jacob lapped and sucked and munched until the thick,
hearty stew had almost disappeared from Rebecca’s body, leaving
only a thin, curry-colored film on her skin. Rebecca bleated and
cooed with pleasure as Jacob nudged, smacked, and tickled his way
across her backside with his mouth, lips, tongue, and the tip of
his nose. Just before he was about to lick the platter clean, so to
speak, Jacob turned to look at me over his shoulder, his expression
plaintive.

“Do you wish to speak, Slave?” I asked.

He nodded.

“You may do so,” I said.

“Mistress, may I please have a drink of water? This
has got to be the spiciest stew I’ve ever tasted. My mouth is on
fire.”

I’d been noshing on my own bowl of
callaloo
while I watched the proceedings, so I knew full well just how
potent the stuff was—my own mouth felt like a nuclear inferno.

I had my own ideas on just how to put that fire out,
however. “No, Slave,” I said. “You may
not
have a drink of
water. But I know an even better way for you to take care of that
raging fire in your mouth.”

Reginald beamed at me as he dished me up another
plate, this one piled high with fried conch and jerk chicken. I
could tell he already knew exactly what I had in mind. And by the
look on his face (and on his crotch), he was anxious to start doing
to me exactly the same thing I was about to instruct Jacob to do to
Rebecca.

Jacob was still frozen on all fours, waiting
patiently for my instructions. I decided to tease him a bit more
before giving them. I finished my helping of jerk chicken and fried
conch, taking care to smack my lips and lick my fingers as often
and as sensuously as possible, all the while never breaking Jacob’s
gaze. I handed Reginald my empty plate, and started doing my own
little striptease for everyone present—but especially Jacob.

I unbuttoned the bodice of my cocktail dress first,
making each motion into a miniature dance. I sashayed the short
dress sleeves off slowly, then used them as a mock-boa, dangling
them over my outstretched arms while shaking and shimmying my whole
body like an old-time burlesque performer. The dress’ flowing skirt
portion was next—I simply loosened the drawstring at my waist and
the dress fell off my body like a dropping stage curtain. Jacob’s
eyes sparkled when he saw that I wore no panties—something I’d
decided to do throughout my stay on the island so I could enjoy the
full effect of the tropical breezes on my pussy.

Reginald, however, didn’t seem surprised at my
commando crotch at all. Maybe that meant all island women skipped
out on skivvies.

When in Rome
. . .I laughed to myself and
began to work on the tricky front clasp on my new white-lace
demi-bra. After several tries, the plastic clasp finally popped
open, and I released one globe, then the other from their cups. I
gave each breast a playful squeeze, then rotated them separately in
another tribute to the days of burlesque. As my final tease, I
dipped my finger in the dregs of my
callaloo
bowl and then
used it to draw a spicy brown design on my belly that pointed
straight downward to my nether regions. Jacob licked his lips in
anticipation of lapping that spicy
callaloo
off my body,
just as he had with Rebecca.

But I had other plans for him.

I took the last bit of
callaloo
from the bowl
and shoved it in Jacob’s mouth with my fingers. “Slave, you will
now proceed to eat Rebecca’s pussy,” I commanded. “That will be the
best way I know to take care of the raging fire in your mouth, and
give the lady some pleasure in the process.”

Rebecca squealed with delight, and positioned
herself so her plump, curved rump was right in front of Jacob’s
face. He spread her cheeks and dove right in. Rebecca cried out the
instant his tongue touched her most sensitive parts—the spicy
callaloo
was burning her up in all the right places.

Once I was satisfied with Jacob and Rebecca’s latest
tryst, I cast my eyes over at Reginald. It was high time he and I
got in on the fun, too. Reginald caught my meaning right away—I
didn’t even have to speak. He was completely out of his bellboy’s
uniform before I could blink. The sight of his huge, coffee-colored
cock had me wetter than a tropical storm.

I picked up my Rabbit from the endtable and tested
the batteries. The toy buzzed and whirred like a motorcycle
engine.

Time to get busy.

I knelt down behind Jacob’s rump and motioned for
Reginald to do the same behind me. Before he did so, though, he
made a point to make a stop in front of me so he could lick the
dripping
callaloo
design from my belly from underneath. When
he was finished, he used the tip of his tongue to make a long, wet
trail around my body from my belly button to my backside as he took
up his position behind me.

I licked the whirring Rabbit up and down the shaft
to lubricate it, and got a mind-blowing buzz in the process. My
whole body tingled with arousal, and the scent of my sex mixed with
the heady spices of the
callaloo
and jerk chicken were
overpowering. My hotel suite had become a sexy island café.