Enslaved (Brides of the Kindred Book 14) (26 page)

“Thrace…”
She tried to laugh but it came out sounding breathy. “You don’t…don’t have to
talk like that. The room probably isn’t wired for sound, remember?”

“Not saying it because of
that.”
He nodded
at the softly glowing blue viewscreen mounted on the wall across from the tub.
“Saying it because I mean it. You’re fucking beautiful, Trin.”

“Thank you.” She looked down at the pink bubbles
that dotted the surface of the water. Goddess, why did his eyes on her make her
feel so hot and cold all at once? She’d been desired by others before—her
creamy brown skin made her an exotic beauty and more than one classmate and acquaintance
back at the Academy was eager to get to know her and possibly do more. But none
of those admirers had made her feel like this—like she was the center of their
universe and they would do anything to pleasure her.

“I supposed it’s time to get you washed.” He picked
up a bottle of something pink and squirted some of it into his hands. “This
okay? It’s the same stuff that made the bubbles.”

“Sure…fine.” Honestly, Trin didn’t care what he
used on her. The only thing she could concentrate on was that his big, warm
hands were going to be sliding all over her body. She felt so nervous she could
barely breathe. In fact, every muscle in her chest felt tight…especially the
ones around her breasts. Trin frowned. What the hell was going on? Why did she
feel this way?

Probably
just nervous,
she told herself as Thrace
began rubbing her neck and shoulders with long, slow strokes. At once she began
to feel less anxious. Goddess, it felt amazing! Slowly she could feel the
tension beginning to leave her body…well, most of it anyway. Her nipples still
felt tight and stiff and achy. But still, the rest of her was starting to feel
like melted butter.

How could he do that to her? Trin didn’t know…and
she didn’t care. She simply sighed and let his magic hands do their trick. He
worked on her back and shoulders and arms, moving down to her hands and
massaging each palm and finger in turn until Trin felt like she’d never been so
relaxed in her life. When he finally returned to her neck, her eyes were half
closed with pleasure.

“Moving lower now,” he murmured in her ear.

Good,
she thought but couldn’t say. Instead she simply
nodded her head as his hands slid down to cup her breasts in the warm, soapy
water.

“Going to wash your breasts now, Mistress,” he
growled softly. Long fingers caressed her full globes with slow, gentle strokes
and then plucked at her nipples, making her gasp with sensation.

In fact, there was
too
much sensation. Trin
moaned and jerked, making a miniature wave in the pool that spilled over the
opposite side.

Thrace
stopped at once.

“Too much?” he murmured in her ear.

“A…a little,” Trin confessed. “I don’t know why,
I’m just so
sensitive
there all of a sudden.” It was true—her nipples
were tight and achy and her breasts were beginning to feel fuller somehow. But that
didn’t make any sense, did it? Trin shrugged it off—she was probably just still
nervous at letting him touch and bathe her this way. “I’m sorry,” she said,
turning her head to look at him. “I just…”

“It’s all right,” Thrace said soothingly. “I still have
other places to wash.”

Trin shivered as she considered what ‘other’ places
he might be talking about. She expected him to reach under the water and cup
her pussy at once.

But Thrace
surprised her again. He went around to the opposite side of the large, square
tub and reached for her feet. He had found some kind of glove with soft
bristles attached to it and he began to use it on her lower legs.

“Oh!” Trin couldn’t help gasping as he washed her
toes and she burst into a helpless fit of giggles when he scrubbed the soft
bristles over the sole of her foot. “Thrace, no!” she cried, still
giggling. “That…that
tickles!”

He grinned at her, his strong features full of
teasing fun.

“Is that right? What a
shame,
Mistress.” And
he grabbed her other foot and began scrubbing it as well.

“Thrace!
Thrace,
please!” Trin couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so hard. She kicked
with her free foot, spraying him with pink bubbles which landed on his bare
chest and shoulders.

“That was very naughty, Mistress,” Thrace
growled and retaliated by catching her free foot and holding her by her ankles
so he could scrub both feet at once.

“No! No, please!” Trin was laughing so hard her
stomach hurt. “Please—I can’t
breathe.”

Thrace
stopped at once but kept hold of her ankles.

“Do you yield, Mistress?” he growled, smiling at
her.

“Yes.” Trin took a deep, gulping breath and tried
to still her heart. She could still feel little giggles bubbling up from
inside, however, and it was hard to keep a straight face.

“Good.” Thrace’s voice turned suddenly
caressing and he bent and planted a gentle kiss at the top of her foot.
“Because I’m ready to wash you a little higher now.”

“Higher?” The laughter was suddenly all gone,
replaced by a deep heat which blossomed in her belly at the sight of his
half-lidded eyes.

“Between your thighs,” he murmured. “I think you
need to be washed there. Are you ready to let me do it?”

“Y-yes,” Trin whispered, having trouble getting the
words out.

“Good,” he murmured. “Come to me, Trin. Come here
and let me wash you.”

She slid slowly to the other side of the tub,
noticing how the water lapping against her tight, sensitive nipples made her
shiver. Goddess, she felt so strange inside. Hot and cold and breathless…

There was a seat at this end of the tub that raised
her up so that the water came only to her waist. At Thrace’s instruction, she settled
on it with her back against the tub and waited as he reached around her. Once
again she had the sensation of being completely surrounded by him, his broad
shoulders on either side of hers, his cheek close to her face as he ran big,
warm hands down under the water to stroke her upper thighs. His warm, spicy
scent enveloped her, making her feel safe and incredibly hot at the same time.

“Spread for me now,” he murmured in her ear as he
reached for her. “Spread your thighs open for me baby and let me wash your
pussy. Let me make you all clean.”

Those hot words spoken in his deep, growling voice
seemed to do something to Trin. She could feel herself tingling all over but
especially between her legs and at the tips of her breasts, which felt fuller
and more sensitive than ever. The bubbles had mostly dissipated now and she
could clearly see his big hands through the warm water as she spread for him,
as she opened herself fully to let him wash her…to let him touch her.

“So beautiful,” Thrace murmured in her ear as he
cupped her naked mound with one large hand. “So fucking gorgeous, baby.”

“I…I told you before, I’m not your baby. I’m your
mistress,” Trin whispered breathlessly.

“You’re my mistress when you command me and when
we’re out in public with everyone watching,” he murmured. “But when it’s just
the two of us and I’m taking care of you, you’re
baby
. My sweet, soft
baby girl that I want to pleasure and take care of and serve. Want to make you
feel so good you can’t stand it…want to hear you moan my name and beg me for
more as you come and come…”

“Thrace,”
she objected, wiggling uncomfortably. “That’s…I can’t describe how that makes
me feel but…but we never said anything about me, uh, coming. In fact, I
don’t…don’t think it would be a good idea.”

“You don’t want to come?” As he spoke, he spread
her outer pussy lips with his index and ring fingers. She gasped as the heated
water rushed in to caress her clit. And then slowly, gently, his long middle
finger slipped into her wet folds and began to stroke. “You sure about that,
baby?”

“Oh!” Trin threw back her head, resting it against
his broad shoulder as he continued to caress her with the lightest touch
imaginable, tracing her throbbing clit again and again in slow, tender strokes.
For some reason the pleasure he was giving her seemed to make her breasts ache
and throb, a sharp sensation that was almost painful in his pleasurable
intensity.

“Tell me again how you don’t want to come,
Mistress,”
Thrace
growled softly in her ear. “Is it because you don’t really want a male touching
you? Because you can’t admit that a male could bring you pleasure?”

“I…you know it’s not…not that,” Trin gasped,
although to tell the truth, that was certainly part of it. But there was
another, deeper reason she didn’t want Thrace to give her the ultimate
pleasure. Trin was afraid if she gave him her body, if she trusted him so
completely that she let him make her come, she might lose her heart as
well—well, at least
part
of it. “I can’t,” she gasped as the sweet
torture went on and on. “I…I shouldn’t…”

“Shouldn’t do what?” he murmured. “Shouldn’t spread
your legs and let me finger your pussy? Shouldn’t let me pet your soft little
clit until you come in my hand?”

“Thrace,”
she begged. “Thrace
please, I think…think we should stop.”

But this time she wasn’t just asking out of fear—or
not fear for her heart. As he touched her, her breasts and nipples had been
feeling more and more full and sensitive. Now they felt so ripe—Trin couldn’t
think of any other word that fit—she felt like she might burst.

“Something’s wrong,” she gasped, closing her legs
and sitting up. “What’s wrong with me?”

“I think you were just about to come,” he said
dryly, withdrawing his hand. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“No, it’s not…that’s not where the problem is. It’s
my…” Trin looked down at her chest and gave a frightened gasp. “Oh my Goddess,
what’s wrong with me?”

Her breasts were clearly bigger than they had
been—but that wasn’t what made her so frightened. Her nipples, which normally
went berry dark when she was aroused, were now a dark, angry red.

“What…what is
wrong with me?”
she whispered,
horrified and scared to death. “What’s
happening
to me?”

Thrace
reached out a finger and gently stroked one
scarlet-tipped nipple, sending a wave of intense sensation through her entire
body.

Trin gasped. “Oh!”

“Beautiful,” he said thoughtfully. “And obviously
very sensitive.”

“But what’s
causing
it?” Trin was nearly
crying now. Not only was she scared but her breasts seemed to be getting fuller
by the moment—they actually
ached
and her nipples were so red and sensitive
she felt that even the lightest touch was too much to bear.

“I don’t know, but we’re going to find out.” Thrace
got up and went over to the viewscreen mounted on the wall across from the tub
which still glowed a soft blue. With a few gestures he had called up a
lightboard which projected from the bottom of the viewscreen onto the counter
below. Trin watched as he began to key her symptoms into a search engine but
before he could finish typing, a block of text and some images suddenly
appeared on the screen.

Thrace
scanned them rapidly, frowning all the time. Trin
was too far away to see.

“What? What does it say?” she demanded in a shaking
voice.

“Hmm…remember the
schromp
we ate at dinner?
And how Lady Tam-tam and Lady Needra both told us we’d have
interesting
effects
from it?”

“Oh my Goddess…I’d forgotten all about that!” Trin
felt sick. “How could they let us eat that and not warn us!”

“Are you kidding?” Thrace threw a look over his
shoulder. “Look where we are.”

“You’re right.” Trin put a hand to her forehead.
“They probably
wanted
this to happen.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised.” Thrace was still scanning rapidly.
“According to this, the nectar pods and the
schromp
cause a reaction in
the female body but it’s not activated until she’s submerged in hot water. The
heat from the water acts as a catalyst and causes her nipples to become
extremely sensitive—as sensitive as her clit.”

“They’re sensitive all right.” Trin gave a shaky
laugh which was more than half sob as she looked down at her swollen scarlet
nipples. “What can we do about it? Will it help for me to get out of the tub?”

“Can’t hurt.” Thrace came over and opened a towel
for her—a big, fuzzy, white one made of incredibly soft, absorbent material. It
was almost as large as a blanket. Trin stepped out of the bath and he wrapped
her up in it. She dried off immediately and as completely as she could, then
she looked down at her chest where her breasts were as full as ever—maybe
fuller.

“This isn’t helping. And
ouch!”
She had to
unwrap the towel and pull it down to her waist to bare her chest. “It’s too
rough,” she gasped. Even though the fabric felt as soft as feathers to her
fingers, it was like sandpaper to the sensitive tips of her breasts.