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“Very well, concubine.” His expression slid into arrogance. “Let's see what you have to offer me.”

He slapped my breast, and I gasped.

“Was that too far?” he asked anxiously.

I burst out laughing and rolled off his lap. “Tristan! You can't keep breaking character. It's ruining it.”

Chuckling, he lifted a knee and rested an arm on it. “All right, but you scared me.”

“You startled me.” I sat up. “I guess we need a safe word.”

“For role playing?”

“Yeah, if you're going to be scared by my gasps.”

“Okay, what?”

“Red. I think that's pretty clear.”

He nodded. “Say red, and I'll stop.”

“Deal.” I rose on my knees. “Now, would you like to continue your inspection, Sultan?”

“Yes, come here and straddle my lap.”

I straddled him.

“Put your hands behind your neck.”

I put my hands behind my head, shocked by how vulnerable it made me feel. His hands went to my hips and then slid up my sides and around to cup my breasts. He pinched my nipples, pulling them out, and slapped my breasts, making them jiggle. This time when I gasped, Tristan just slapped me more.

“You have beautiful breasts, very resilient.” His hands went lower, pinching my skin on my sides and belly. “Good tone. Lay back.”

“Um, my hands?”

“Here, I'll help you.” Tristan supported my back as I laid back.

His warm hands were reassuring, allowing me to trust him to lay me down gently. He did, easing me onto his legs. With my knees bent, the position lifted my pelvis and put my head lower. When Tristan pushed my knees out, I felt air hit me and knew I was open to him.

He played with the pearl a few moments, sending agonizing need through me. My hands were still behind my neck, serving as a nice pillow. So, I was comfortable and a little detached. I liked the feeling and didn't try to look at him. It was pushing boundaries inside me, threatening to break societal walls for me as it had for him. Walls I didn't know I had.

“What a pretty flower,” Tristan's voice sounded different, richer, deeper. He slid his finger over me. “Long petals.” He pinched them and pulled.

My face went hot. I'd never had a man inspect me like this. Part of me wanted to squeeze my legs shut but the other part stretched my knees wider and angled my hips up.

“Very nice.” He patted my pussy. “What a good concubine. You already know what your Sultan wants.” He took my lips and pulled them apart to expose my center. “You're so wet, but I want to see you dripping.” He rubbed my clit until I writhed. “Still not good enough.” He slapped my thigh. “We'll have to try something else.”

I heard him rummaging through the things we'd bought. A buzzing sound told me he'd turned on the little vibrator. It had a slender wand with a tiny teardrop at the end. He set that teardrop against my bud and rubbed it in circles.

I came in a screaming, undulating rush, and he kept stimulating my clit through it. Beyond it. My body jerked in rebellion, trying to flee the pleasurable torture.

“Give me more, concubine.” He slid a finger into me.

I whimpered and wriggled.

“There, very nice.” Tristan removed the vibrator and rubbed my pussy gently, as if praising it. “So wet. You're dripping onto my thigh.”

Again, my face went hot, and my breasts heaved. His knees bent, lifting me, and he reached out to help me up. My body shook, my hands gripping my neck tightly. But his flushed face and feverish eyes rewarded me.