Oh. Bondage. I've never done it before, but I'm game. I hold my wrist out to him obediently. "Do I get a safe word?"
"What is a safe word?"
I watch as he ties my wrist to one post of the bed, then pulls another length of silk out and moves to tie the other to the opposite post. "It's where I have a word that I can say, and if I use it, then you'll stop. It's like if it gets to be too much for me."
The god gives me an arch look. "I will make sure it's not too much for you."
"I still want a safe word. Let's use 'pineapple.'"
He finishes tying my other wrist and then my arms are spread wide, my quivering thighs clenched together. Kassam leans in and kisses me. "Or you could simply ask me to stop."
"Sometimes 'stop' means 'keep going,'" I point out, settling back against the pillows. "Especially if it feels really intense."
"Mmm, this should be intense," he agrees. "Very well. Say your word for me again?"
"Pineapple!"
He grins, inclining his head to indicate he heard me. "And are you comfortable?"
"Comfortable enough?" I give a little wiggle on the bed. "But I'm still wearing my clothes. Or is that part of the plan?"
Kassam shakes his head. "It is not. Your clothes are filthy and should be discarded anyhow." He pulls a knife out of the box and reaches for the front of my t-shirt.
"Don't you dare—" He cuts into my shirt, slicing right up the front. Either the knife is extremely sharp or my shirt is extremely worn, but it falls apart like butter and I make an utterly outraged sound, wrestling against the silken bonds at my wrists. "Kassam! You fucker! I don't have an infinite supply of those!"
"I have new clothes for you," he purrs, undeterred as he slices the remnants of my shirt off.
I scowl at him.
He offers me a wink and then snaps the thin bit of fabric that holds my bra together.
"You suck," I tell him, as he cuts the last bits of my upper clothing off and then the knife travels down my belly, toward my jeans. Oh no. "Wait, wait, pineapple," I tell him. "Don't you dare cut my jeans."
Undeterred at my anger, he puts the knife between his teeth and slips my jeans and panties off my legs the traditional way. When I'm naked, he runs his hands up and down my legs, stroking me. "I like you like this," he murmurs. "Soft and willing."
"Willing?" I chuckle at that. "I'm tied up, Kassam."
"Yes, but you're quivering with excitement. And your cunt is already wet for me." He leans in and presses a kiss to the top of my mound. "I bet if I finger you, I find you hot and juicy and ripe for my cock, won't I?"
I whimper, my breasts peaking at his words. He's not wrong. My pulse is racing with anticipation, and I can't wait to see what he does to me now that I'm tied up. As one-ups go, this is a little tame, but I don't mind. I'm enjoying the play between us.
"So beautiful," Kassam murmurs, his hand gliding over my belly. "You know what would make you even more beautiful?"
"What?"
He gets off the bed and strides over to the tableside once more. I'm frustrated and helpless, twisting my hands in the silk bonds as his gorgeous, prominent cock bobs just out of reach. Really, that's unfair of him to put that so close to my face and not let me lick it. I whimper a protest, but he ignores me. I don't think I've ever viscerally reacted to a man like I do to Kassam, and I'm not sure all of it is because of hedonism. He's a god, and so of course he's got a perfect, golden-brown ass that's the right level of muscle and cushion. Of course he's got tight, tapered hips and obliques so sharp they could cut you. Of course a god would have massive, muscular thighs and the perfect thickness to his chest with a six-pack and square pectorals.
Of course a god would have a fat, nine-inch cock. It's just science.
But when he looks over at me and gives me that roguish, naughty grin, I realize it's not just his appearance—it's not his body or his face. His personality makes me laugh. I love how he likes to tease me about everything. I love how he has made it through some awful shit and still finds time to smile. I love how he accepts when things are new to him, and I love how upset he gets when he feels something he's never experienced before. He never bores me. He never makes me feel ugly, or foolish when I'm in bed with him. If anything, he makes me feel like I'm the sexiest thing he's ever seen, and that's a big ego boost considering he's a god.
I've never been more compatible with someone, both in personality and physically.
It's that naughty look that makes me jingle my quartz bracelet at him. "Should you take my crystals off?" The sex is really good with the crystals on, but it's a new kind of mindless wild when I get the full force of his hedonism.
I'm a little surprised when he shakes his head, though. "I want you to be in your mind when we do this. I want you to tell me how it feels."
"Oh, okay." I blink up at him, trying desperately not to squirm on the bed like a needy, needy tramp. "How what feels?"
Kassam pulls out a crystal decanter and holds it up to the light.
"Body oil?" I guess.
"A lubricant," he agrees. "You'll need it for this."
And then he pulls out the biggest fucking dildo I've ever seen.
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I stare.
And stare.
"What the fuck, Kassam?" I finally manage, blinking rapidly as I take in the sight of the thing. It must be made of marble or ivory, because it's a pale, ghostly white, and veiny as all get-out. It's bigger than his already-impressive cock, and he waves it in front of my face with a smug smile. "Where the hell did you get that?"
The god shrugs. "They wished to please me. Said I could ask for anything. So I asked for this and oil to grease your pretty little cunt with." He studies it with a curious expression. "It's quite large, isn't it?"
I wonder if the floor will swallow me up if I ask nicely. "I can't believe we've been here for less than a day and you're demanding dildos from these people."
He snorts. "You worry too much, little light. They're probably just curious as to why I haven't had you sucking off half the town just to please me."
I straighten up in bed, at least as much as I can, considering my hands are tied, and give him a horrified look. "Is that what happens with other hedonism aspects?" I lower my voice, since it's getting louder by the moment. "Is that what they do?"
"They do anything and everything to please their god," he says, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "But I find the longer I'm with you, the less I like the idea of sharing you." The look he shoots me is both devouring and possessive. "You're my wife, and I'm not sharing you with anyone."
"Oh, good," I say, laughing nervously. "Because I don't want to be shared. And the same goes for you."
"I do not want anyone else." He brandishes the dildo, eyeing the impressive length before giving me a cat-that-just-ate-the-cream smile. "Just you."