The TRAJANT'S TRAJANT

The Royal SSuite
Bathroom
Third Watch

What the bblue sstarb blazes did a wrathful god say to his seductress as a prelude to having his revenge on her?

He'd have to say something and it would have to be appropriate, intimidating, and sexy. Just because she had drugged him without preamble, and had her way with him, didn't mean that he felt comfortable with the idea of wordlessly wrestling her to the groundor onto her back on the bedand proceeding to fondle and suck her senseless.

It simply wouldn't be good manners.

"What's your most daring sexual fantasy, Your Majesty? What have you always wanted to try?" While he shaved, 'Rhett toyed with permutations of that for an opening line.

He rejected it while washing his hair.

No! He would not ask Electra what she wanted. To ask would suggest that he didn't know what to do. To ask would remind them both that she was older, that she'd been Mated, that she still was Mated. To ask would invite her to compare his performance with that of Viz-Igerd, which might have been impressive. No, he would not ask wWhat? , wWhen? W, where? , or Howhow.?

I won't ask wWhether,r? either! 'Rhett resolved, as he lathered hair shampoo over his chest hair, armpits, belly, and loins. Its fine bubbly lather streaked white, like unwhipped whipping cream, as he rubbed it into his forearms and it caught in the fine dark hairs. When he'd done his best, he would not ask whether she'd had a really good orgasmor six, or whether she'd faked it out of politeness or fear. A stud ought to be able to recognize the real thing.

But how would he know? Magazines didn't really explain that. There were advice columns that mentioned that girls pretended. The columns also mentioned that women scream, they shake all over, they pass out.

Bloody hHell, it sounds scary! How's a god to know if he's done the right thing? What if he couldn't tell the difference between desirable symptoms, and symptoms that he'd seriously hurt her?

On the other hand, he could hardly ask, "Your Majesty, would you mind faking an orgasm while I watch, so I know what to expect?"

He considered that as he washed his thighs, and his backside, and his aching balls, and his slippery, dripping positor. He handled himself and imagined ramming it into her, but the idea of hurting her in the process held no appeal at all.

Was that the way he wanted to do her? He was growling inside from hunger and fury, but the most effective disciplinarians didn't don't hurry the punishment. Also, the most successful interrogators showed their victims the instruments of torture well in advance.

Hmmm.