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Reyna had never done anything like this to me before. Which made me concerned that tonight might not be a normal night. What did she have in store for us this time?
We stepped out of the bath and dried off, but no clothes were provided. Instead, the handmaiden brought forward a bucket. She placed it on the ground and dipped both her hands inside. Then she smeared gold paint over Emilie’s shoulders and chest.
Emilie’s mouth opened in shock. The two guards standing in the corner snickered, and I shot them a deadly glare.
“What is this?” I asked the handmaiden.
She ignored me and continued to spread glimmering gold all over Emilie’s body. Even in her hair, which she pulled back into a long braid. Once Emilie was covered head to toe, the handmaiden turned to me.
She dipped her hands in the bucket again and I stepped back before she could touch me.
“I’ll do it myself.”
She seemed to consider me for a moment before giving a curt nod, and I began to cover myself in the golden paint. My limbs and torso were easy enough. I covered my face and hair without any difficulty. But I did need help reaching certain spots on my back.
The handmaiden noticed, circling around me, but I stepped away.
“I can do it,” Emilie volunteered.
Again, the handmaiden gave a small nod. I was thankful she didn’t seem to be very confrontational.
Emilie dipped her hands into the paint and spread it along my spine. Then across the top of my back. I felt her cover the places I’d missed. My muscles tensed with anger.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly enough that only I could hear. She mistook my tension for anger with her. For touching me.
I pulled her by the hand until she was standing in front of me. My voice was hushed, mirroring hers. “Emilie, you have permission to touch me whenever you must.”
If it weren’t for the gold paint on her skin, she surely would’ve had rosy cheeks. Her eyes widened and mouth parted slightly. It was almost comical.
When she finally found her voice again, she simply said, “Likewise.”
The guards led us to the dining room, where Reyna was waiting. She stood in the corner, directing servants on where to place table settings, bickering at the way they folded napkins and berating them for not lighting candles faster.
I looked at Emilie, and the dim candlelight made her skin look absolutely golden. Like she was truly made of gold and not just covered in it. It was breathtaking. She was breathtaking.
“Ah, good. You’re here,” Reyna said when she noticed us. She rubbed her hands together, then pointed toward the center of the long dining table. “I want you here.”
“Beg your pardon?” It seemed like she might’ve pointed at one of the chairs, but I highly doubted she wanted us to get gold paint all over her emerald suede cushions.
“Right there. You’ll be our grand centerpiece this evening. Honestly, I don’t know why I haven’t thought of it before. Here, Emilie, you lie down and then Ladon, if you would…” She paused as she realized we weren’t moving.
“Well, don’t just stand there.”
Emilie crossed the room and crawled up on the table. She laid on her back and faced the ceiling, body prone and lifeless. She looked like a gilded statue.
“Knees up,” Reyna said. “And then, Ladon, you’ll be here between her legs.”
I snorted. “You are delusional.”
She had to be the sickest person I’d ever met. Not even a hint of acknowledgment that this whole idea was preposterous. To have us lathered in paint and set in the center of the table like some kind of décor. At least when she forced me to fuck her, I understood she got something out of it. But this? This was insanity.
“And you are going to be in trouble if you don’t get on that table.”
A blinding pain hit me like a flash of lightning traveling down my spine. It was over as quickly as it started, but the message was clear. Obey or prepare for a world of hurt.
I climbed on the table, kneeling between Emilie’s legs. The sight of her laying in front of me, legs spread and pussy exposed to me, made my cock twitch.
“Good. That’s good. Now pull her closer. Hands on her hips. And put your cock inside her.”
