Page 129 of Royally Not Ready
“I have the perfect idea for that,” I say as I stand from my chair and hold out my hand to her.
She willingly takes it. I link our fingers together and guide her out of the living room and up the stairs to my bedroom, where I have everything set up that I need.
“Ooo, I like this already,” she says when we reach my room. “Should I be naked?”
“Yes,” I answer as I let go of her hand and pull up the hem of her shirt until she’s completely naked. I drag my fingers over her side, loving how soft her skin is. “Get on all fours, on the edge of my bed.”
She smirks and turns toward the bed, where she gets into position.
“Are you comfortable?”
“Yes, my King,” she says.
“Good.” Since she’s closer to the left side, I move next to her and smooth my hand over her back. “Now listen carefully, as I’m going to ask you a series of questions. Every time you get one right, you get a reward, but every time you get one wrong, you get punished.” I press a kiss to her shoulder blade, then to her neck, and then her cheek. “You’re not allowed to come until I grant you permission. Understood?”
“Yes, my King,” she answers.
“Good girl.” I gently caress her ass and ask, “What is the name of the palace?”
“Strombly,” she answers with confidence.
“Good.” I lift my hand and smack her ass, leaving a red mark.
“Oh, fuck,” she says, her back bowing and her head dropping. “Oh God, I wasn’t expecting that.”
To ensure that’s what she wants, I finger her pussy, and to my surprise, she’s already very aroused.
“Did you like that, Lilly?”
“Y-yes, my King,” she answers.
“Then we shall move on. Next question, what is the name of the festival at the end of summer?”
“Torg.”
“And what do we do there?”
“It’s where people from around the country get to trade their handcrafted items, as well as show off their talents that have been passed on from generation to generation. It’s also where you’ll find the best cooked cod cakes in the country. A celebration before the winter months.”
Smack. Smack.
I deliver two spankings to her, causing her to grip the comforter tightly in her grasp.
As she moans, I say, “Good answer.”
“Thank you, my King,” she replies, her voice strained.
“Doing okay, love?” I ask. She offers me an enthusiastic nod, so I continue. “What is King Theo’s full name?”
“Uh... oh shit. It’s, uh, Theodore, uh... ramakin...”
“Lilly, you disappoint me,” I say as I pick up a clothespin from my nightstand. I show it to her, opening and shutting it, and then place it on her nipple, pinching it tightly. A hefty hiss escapes her lips.
“I’m s-sorry, my King,” she answers. “Please correct me and tell me his full name?”
“Theodore Holti Strom, the Third.”
“Thank you for correcting me.”
