Knight Nostalgia: A Knights of the Board Room Anthology(10)

As much as he loved to come inside his wife, he thought he might love this even more, listening to her lost to a mindless pleasure she couldn’t control. She didn’t need to do so. She could give herself to it fully, not fight it, because she knew she was safe. She could trust him, trust being under his control.

Inside the fortress his love built around her.



“You’re still shaking, my love. That tells me you gave me more than your body, for your climax is done.”

She said nothing, but he didn’t expect her to do so. After a climax that intense, she was a quiet submissive. He didn’t need to talk; just hold her.

He took his boot off the tether and turned her in his arms, the small bells on the wrist jesses making a pleasing muted chime. She latched onto the front of his shirt, pushing against it with the heels of her hands. She wasn’t trying to push him away. She was pushing upward, moving the fabric, an unspoken request. He took it off, and she put her palms flat on his chest, the side of her face against his heart.

The brown-feathered, tufted plume of the mask quivered, teasing his jaw. He felt the tiny bite of the decorative chains, scalloped along the bottom edge of the hood. Their drape over her cheek was interfering with what she wanted as she pressed that part of her to his heated flesh. But he would deny her wishes until he was certain he’d won her complete submission. A slave’s obedience and a queen’s heart. A falcon wasn’t freed until it was certain that she’d return to her Master’s hand.

Though he wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her, he would care for her first.

“My falcon needs to eat and drink.” He touched the bell that would bring a slave girl. As she appeared at the opening to the tent, he sheltered Savannah in his arms. Though she couldn’t see, he didn’t want her to feel like anyone she didn’t know was staring at her, his proud queen.

“Food and drink,” he said. The woman bobbed her head and disappeared.

He rose, carrying his captive to the bed, and eased her onto the pillows. She was reviving, so he’d made a good call, leaving the hood upon her. As he put her on the bed, she tried to wriggle away from him, shrugging off his assistance in moving her.

“I obviously haven’t tired my slave out enough,” he observed coolly. “You’ll be put on a perch, to keep you from trying to leave the bed without my permission.”

There was a trunk at the end of the bed, and he left her on the mattress to go to it, keeping a sharp eye on her as he opened the chest and pulled out what he wanted.

When he closed his hand around her ankle, she tried to pull away, to kick, but he was putting up with none of that. He saw her lips part, a startled reaction at how quickly he overpowered her. Beneath the hood, he imagined her eyes might have widened, her pupils darkening.

“I’m bigger, my lady. In many ways. Save yourself the effort.”

Her lip curled in a new sneer, and she chose a different tactic. Her demeanor became haughty, her limbs rigid, as he positioned the spreader bar between her ankles and strapped the cuffs on either end of the bar around them. The bar was telescoping, so he slid it out another six inches and locked it there. He noted how the tip of her tongue touched her lips in anxious and intrigued reaction as he forced her legs open even wider.

Returning to the bed, he put his knee on it so he could curve his arms under her and lift her body into a more upright position against the pillows. He untangled the jesses so her wrists were free of one another. Then he bent her upper body toward her knees with a hand on her nape, a non-verbal command to stay folded forward that way.

But when he slid his hands down her arms and began to pull them behind her, she stiffened and tried to yank away. It didn’t alter his grip in the slightest, and he brought them behind her with a little more insistence, a reproving jerk.

“Are you looking for another beating, my lady?”

“Typical.” She sniffed. “A brute seeks capitulation with force and violence.”

“I see.” He released her wrists, putting his hands on her shoulders as he bent over her, spoke against her hair and the thin substance of the hood in a husky voice. “Should I do it like one of your pretty, fawning courtiers? Please put your arms behind you, my lady. I’m going to bind your wrists there.”

“You said you were going to give me food.”

“I am going to feed you. From my fingertips, same as I would my beloved falcon, to teach her who her Master is, who she can expect to care for her.”

“I’m not a child, incapable of feeding myself,” she said indignantly.

“You are most definitely not a child,” he observed, his eyes coursing down her back to her buttocks, pressed into the mattress. Her breasts hung full and tempting in her forward position. “Obey me and put your hands behind your back. Or you’ll earn another punishment. A worse one.”

Her mouth tightened mutinously. “Worse than taking my body against my will? I’m unimpressed. And owe you no obedience.”

“I would rethink that.” His tone laden with stern warning, he tightened his hands on her shoulders, bringing her up straight. Putting a firm hand to her chin, he brushed her lips, her jaw, with his thumb. “I have a device, a metal ring, that I’ll put inside your mouth. It will open your lips, stretch them wide, and keep me from the danger of your teeth. I’ll put you on your knees like a slave in truth and make you service my cock that way. Last time. Obey me. Give me your arms.”