“Did you try to dissuade him, Gimtesh?” he asked.“Of course, m’lord!” Gimtesh said, bowing low. “But Bex never listens.”“Oh, he listen...,” Lord Xosh said, grinning slowly. His teeth glittered. “That was why we wanted him on the Prismatic Throne, married to the last survivor of House Castrovel, to the only breedable feathered dragon in the galaxy. Those who sit atop that throne tend to be ... targets. And I’ve not lived this long by drawing targets on my chest, Gimmy.” He paused. “May I call you. Wet heat spread over her. Boiling water? No! Ice...so cold it burned her skin, made more sensitive from the blindfold. She moaned as the chip of fire skated across flesh. Her nipples hardened into steel under her Master's ministrations. She felt the weight of his body lean into the mattress so he could reach all of her. He was so near, his touch just beyond the tingling pain of the ice. Warmth beyond the cold; pleasure beyond the pain. The nearness of such things caused her to moan for him. She. More

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