I centered myself, ignoring everything else, settling my full attention on her like a heavy cloak, and I watched her accept it, frighteningly receptive, ready to respond to all of my cues. She was like some kind of filly indeed—one who’d been searching for the right rider—and so I gave her a somewhat wicked grin. “Lia, would you like everyone else in this room to see what a good girl you can be for me?” I asked her with utmost indulgence.

She gave me the sweetest, most trusting smile I’d ever seen, one that made me feel like an asshole for sins I hadn’t even committed yet. “Yes, please,” she said, beaming.

I offered her my hand, and she took it.

I let her lead the way to the throne, so that I could watch her ass—might as well pre-game some, since I was back here—and so that everyone else would see her acting of her own volition.

I had dragged women through rooms here kicking and screaming before—consensually, of course, with all the rules carefully hashed out and written down, practically notarized—but this wouldn’t be like that.

No, because somewhere along the line I’d apparently decided to be a good person . . . well, maybe not good, but I’d decided to give her what she wanted for the evening. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly when it’d happened, but no one was more surprised about it than me.

I mounted the dais the throne sat on and took my seat, careful to arrange myself—and the hard on I was sporting—for maximum comfort before crossing my legs. I could’ve spanked her lying flat across my lap, but I liked the idea of her being a little topsy-turvy, and having to brace herself against her own abuse by placing her hands on the carpeted floor. She made to kneel down, and I tapped my upper thigh meaningfully when she paused.

“It’s just that,” she said, trying to move and wincing, as all the lines on her catsuit became uncomfortably tight, and she tugged at her sleeves again.

I resisted the urge to chuckle. “If your suit tears, you’ll be giving the couple over there the best show of the evening,” I said, tilting my head their direction. “But if it does, I swear I’ll give you my coat to take home, to cover yourself with.” I was taller than she was, it would hang down to her mid-thigh.

I had no business breaking up a bespoke Fioravanti suit, but I would if I had to.

If I didn’t, my dick might never forgive me.

“Okay.” She nodded and ungracefully climbed over me, like she was crawling into a tunnel. Her hands reached the ground and she shimmied, wriggling until my thigh caught her beneath her hips, and my cock was pleasantly trapped between my stomach and her ribcage.

“Remember your safe word,” I reminded her. “And tap my leg twice if you can’t speak.”

“Okay,” she said again, looking innocently over her shoulder at me, one side of her face framed by her hair. “Go slow?” she asked—her first true hesitancy of the night.

I slowly put one hand down over her right ass cheek, the one furthest away from me, to palm it while I could see her expression.

“I would never hurt my little girl,” I promised, as her face went even more flush than it had been prior from being so close to the ground. And then I added “Much” and raised my hand.