After they dried off and dressed, they enjoyed their picnic lunch next to the water.  

“Who else has access to this area?” she asked as they lay back in the grass.

“Only us,” he said, closing his eyes and feeling the warmth of the sun on his face.

Without a word, they both had reached over to one another and held hands.  Their fingers interlocked, both emitting a sigh.  

During the next week, the king would not allow the queen behind the tapestry.  All he would tell her was that he was working on something that he believed she would enjoy.  He would lock himself in the room for hours.  The queen would put her ear up to the door to try to hear the slightest sound.  However, she knew she would hear nothing due to the room being totally soundproof.  The only sound she would hear was the tiny clink sound of the key turning the lock; the king would emerge with a slight smile on his face and a glint in his eyes.  

One night while he was reclining in his bath, the queen came in and kneeled behind him.  She rested her chest on the bath and nuzzled her face into his neck.  Her hands slid down his chest as her exhale became a moan.

“Good evening love,” he said as her hand wrapped around his soft shaft.  “Feeling a little naughty, are we?”

She did not say a word but began to kiss his neck.  As she walked her kisses down his shoulder then back to his neck, her moans increased in volume.  While stroking him, she began to nibble and bite his skin after each kiss.

“Join me,”  he said as he moved her hand and began to stroke himself.

She stood next to his bath and loosened her nightgown and let it fall to the floor.  She noticed he stroked himself faster once she was naked.  A slight smile snuck its way to the corner of her mouth, another confirmation that he really did get aroused when he saw her body.  Whatever flaw she thought she had and tried to point out, he would kiss that part of her body and give her a reason why he loved that particular part.  She knew he was sincere, but she also thought he was cradling her feelings gently and trying to make her feel good about herself.  However, the slight smile turned into a giggling grin as she stepped into his bath.  She finally realized that it did not matter if she felt flawed; he truly loved every part of her.

As she entered, he stopped stroking and ran his hands along the outside of her thighs.  She lowered herself into the water and reaching down, put his pulsing head between her lips.  After a slight pause, she lowered herself onto him.  

Fully.  

Deeply.  

Her hole, being stretched and filled.  His shaft, being engulfed with the heat of her body and passion.

“My king?” she asked softly, seductively as she began to rock gently forward and backwards.  Her breasts swayed with each movement, her hands planted firmly on his chest.

“Yes, my love,” the king said as he watched the movement of her body and felt her pressure on him.

“What are you working on in our room?”  she asked as she looked into his eyes and began to grind a little harder.

“A gift, my queen.”

She knew that trying to get any more information out of him would be futile.  She had also learned that trying to use any type of sexual advance or play in order to gain information from him would not work.  He would not say a word nor give any hint of an answer she wanted to obtain.  Even when she became bratty or became his very slutty seductress, he would not divulge any information.  That, to her, was punishment enough.  She wanted the spankings, the tightness of the ropes or the many other wondrous ways he administered punishment for her bad behavior.  When she would try to tempt him and draw information he was not ready to share, she would stop when a particular smirk appeared on his face.  He would also answer with plain and short replies that let her know to ask no further questions.  Just like the “A gift, my queen.”  Nothing more and nothing less.

Knowing that he was not going to tell her, she continued to rock her hips and please herself with him deep inside of her, collapsing on him when her orgasm caused him to fill her up with his seed.

Another week passed with the king working behind the tapestry.  He would not give her a hint of the gift, nor did he even acknowledge that he was working on anything when she asked if the work on the gift was going smoothly.  

He would smirk and say, “What gift?”

She could feel the tension within her build.  Everyone could see the calm and easy demeanor on her exterior, but only she and the king knew the tossing of the waves due to the raging storm deep within her core, her soul scratching her insides, ripping her chest, exposing her heart, infiltrating her mind with the maddening realization that she cannot have her wants and needs at that time.  

The king knew, because he felt the same way.

At the end of the week, the queen woke up early in the morning.  She reached her hand over to touch her king and felt the flatness of the bed greet her palm.  The coolness of the sheet that met her hand informed her that the king had been up for quite a while.  

Thinking that he may have had some pressing business to attend regarding the kingdom, she got dressed and went to the kitchen.  

As she entered the kitchen, she saw the king standing at the pantry with his arms full of fruits and vegetables.  Her face lit up as he saw her and he quickly sat the armload down in order to embrace the queen.

“Good morning, my love.  Have a seat and I will cut us up some fruit and vegetables for breakfast,” he said as he pulled a chair out so she might sit.  “I ran the staff off and told them that I wanted to make a simple breakfast for us all by myself.”

She watched him reach for his knife that he carried on his belt at all times.  She heard the whisper of sound as the hardened steel was pulled from its leather sheath.  The blade of the knife curved from the handle to the tip in a crescent shape.  The spine followed the same contour, making the end of the knife a fine-tipped point.  The king poured a little oil on a sharpening stone then began to methodically glide the side of the blade through the oil.

Watching him work his blade back and forth made her smile, then bite her lip.  She admired his steadiness and precision in the control he had on the direction of the blade's movement.  She shivered as if there were a cloud of electricity in the air due to the amount of concentration he used while sharpening his blade.  His level of devotion to the care of his knife was topped off when he unstrapped his belt and held one end by his foot on the floor and the other end with his hand.  He began to rub the blade up and down the belt, using it as a strop.  After the honed edge was polished and realigned to the king's satisfaction, he turned to the queen with a smile on his face.

“Now, time to prepare your breakfast!” he said with a chuckle in his voice.  

His knife sliced through the produce with ease.  Each apple, pear and melon offered no resistance to the edge of his knife.  

Once he finished with the fruits, he turned his attention to the vegetables.

He started with the large carrots first.  He ran his blade down one side of a carrot and created a flat surface.  After laying it down, he used the fine tip of the blade to make long, shallow slices from one end to the other.  After completing many cuts, he began to cut the carrot crossways.

“Hold out your hand, my love,” the king said as he picked up a slice of the carrot.

He placed the carrot slice in her hand and smiled.

She held the orange gift up and gasped at the image.  The king had shaped the carrot into a small butterfly.  Each cross-cut created another butterfly that gradually became smaller.  The details astounded her as she could see the shape of the body, antenna and the swallowtail sections of each wing.

The king winked at her, tossed a little butterfly carrot into his mouth and began to make another creation out of the next carrot.  

The queen caught herself holding her breath and biting her lip a little harder at the thought of how delicate the king was with his knife.  He sat a tomato on the cutting board and effortlessly pulled the knife towards the fruit.  It seemed as if the thick and even slice of the tomato parted from the rest of the tomato on its own accord.  She knew how strong his hands were by how tightly he was able to tie the knots that bound her, how firm the impacts on her bare skin felt and how vise-like his grip was when he held her body against the wall.  She marveled at how his calloused and rough hands could execute such delicate and precise work.

After his culinary escapade, the king cleaned his knife and work area.  He presented a tray of fruits and vegetables, hard-boiled eggs and cheese to the queen.  They ate their breakfast while engaging in small talk and funny stories.  

The queen rolled a grape towards the king, causing him to lose eye contact with her so that he could catch it before it fell to the floor.  When he looked up, the queen was leaning her elbows on the table while smiling.  

“You have a question, my queen?” the king said as he tossed the grape at her with such quickness that she could not react fast enough to keep it from lodging in her cleavage.

“You brat!” she exclaimed as she reached in to fetch the grape.

“Ah-ha!!!” she stated as she held the grape in the air as a trophy.  The king heard the grape pop as she bit into it and begin to chew.  He laughed as he reached for a grape of his own and feigned as if he would toss it at her.

“I do have a question,” she said as she bit into a carrot that the king had shaped into a sunburst.  “Will you tell me what you have been working on in our room?”

“I would much rather show you,” said the king as he looked at her over his cup.

She felt the blood drain from her face.  She knew her lips went pale as her mouth fell agape.  

“Right now?” she muttered in a whisper.

The king nodded and held out his hand.

She placed her hand into his and stood.

He walked in front of her through the hallways.  She quickened her pace so she could walk next to him.  But each time she attempted to walk next to him, he would pull her hand back and continue to keep two steps in front of her.  He could feel her tense slightly in her hand as she began to get flustered each time he made her walk behind him.  After being pulled back into place a third time, she noticed the king edge a little closer to the wall, which cut off her ability to walk next to him.  She then tried to walk to the other side by crossing over behind him.  Anticipating her move, he gripped her hand tighter and held her into place.

Her footsteps became rigid and fell with audible thuds in her protest of having to submit.  She was not in the mood to submit. She decided that once they entered into their bedchambers, she would inform the king that she was not amused and couldn’t care less about the little project that he had been working on.

After the door closed, she began her protest of how she did not feel like going into their room.  However, her remonstration was cut short.  The king had placed his hand on her throat and forced her up against the wall behind the tapestry.  The animal in him has been unleashed and she knew better than to try and oppose.  But the still waters of her exterior began to churn from the inner tumultuous animal she had caged within her.

She reached up with her hands, she gripped and pushed his arm.  All her attempt earned her was for his grip to tighten and her body to be slightly lifted.  With the new sensation she felt on her throat, she changed her grip from trying to remove his arm to using it for support.  Her head was tilted upwards so that she had to strain her eyes down to look at him, as she was on her tiptoes with her back firmly against the wall.  

His breathing was slow, deep and very controlled.  He brought his free hand up to the side of her face.  After brushing back hair from covering her ear, he leaned in and whispered, "Even your breath is mine."   The ability to determine what sensation she was feeling was lost as she looked into his eyes.  His bright hazel to blue-colored eyes had darkened.  She realized the hand on her throat was not what scared her.  It was the depth of his eyes, the storm, the animal that was peering at her.  She determined that what she felt at that time was not his hand on her throat, or the pressure of being lifted, or her shallow breaths.  It was fear.

She feared the man who controlled her at that moment.  She feared him, yet, she felt the safest she had ever felt in her life.  His eyes never looking away from hers, nor his breath quickening, he began to move his hand.

“My king…”  she attempted to say but stopped as she felt his fingers touch her lips.

At that point, she became aware that she could feel the surging and pulsing of blood in her veins, her heart jumping with great leaps, her lungs expanding and collapsing beyond their normal capabilities.  She wondered how the beast, the animal, her master standing in front of her maintained his breathing and control, knowing he had her mesmerized.

Without a word or wavering eyes, he began to tear her clothes from her body.  The firm grip on her neck did not change as the cloth ripped.  His eyes forced his soul deep into her, penetrating her slowly, deeply and with every ounce of lust he had within him, filling her with the knowledge that he was going to take her.  

His gaze only faltered for a second and was replaced by a smirk when he glanced down to her breasts.  She was wearing the clamps on her nipples.  Not only was she wearing the clamps, but she had also fastened the chain connecting them to the necklace she wore that held her key to the room behind the tapestry.  

With an uplifting pressure under her jaw, he pulled her away from the wall, which allowed her clothing to fall to the floor.  He turned her around and with his hand on the middle of her back, he pushed her naked body against the wall.  The coolness of the stone kissed her skin, causing gooseflesh to appear all over her body.  Her already hardened nipples ached because of the clamps and the roughness of the mortar between the stones.

He removed his hand and took a step back.  She began to pull away and turn when suddenly his hand returned her to the position in which he intended her to remain.  Although she could not have been an inch away from the wall, his rough hand and forceful shove sent a jolt through her body that made that feeling of fear and desire resurge.

When he removed his hand again, she did not move.  She could hear him walk away but was afraid to turn around to watch him, just in case he was testing her again.  As she stood there, she became suddenly aware that her inner thigh felt cool.  A gentle breeze had blown by, possibly from the tapestry moving, and that informed her that she was wet and it had trailed onto her inner thigh.

I hope my Master approves, she thought.  Wait!  Her master?  She had never called him her master before.  My love, my king, my good boy, my need and my desire but never my Master.  But, for some reason, she felt like she had to see him as her Master.  She needed him as her Master and wanted that feeling of being owned.

As he walked towards her, she heard a slight “clink” sound that mingled with each footstep.  Not knowing what to expect, she felt herself tense up slightly.  He stood behind her without making a sound.  She could not even hear him breathe.  How can he have that much control? she thought.  

He ran his right hand down the outside of her right thigh, down to her knee, up the inside of her thighs, causing her to spread her legs slightly.  She gasped when he shoved two fingers in her wet hole and pulled on her, causing her to step away from the wall.  His hand, wet from her juices, left its signature on her inner left thigh from the smack he landed after he removed his fingers from inside of her.   

She heard the “clink” sound again then felt a cold ribbon of metal wrap around her waist.  A sharp intake of air through her nose was the only sound she made as he locked the chain in place.  When he reached between her legs and grasped the single chain that hung down in front of her, she began to bite her lip.

Thinking he was going to rotate the waistband so that the loose chain would be used as a leash, she drew blood from her lip at the surprise of him pulling the chain back through her legs.  The cold links separated her lips and rested upon her clit.  He fed the working end of the chain through a ring on the back of the waistband and pulled.  The chain rain from the front of the waistband, parted her lips and cheeks while kissing both of her holes with its cold presence.

Still holding her in place, he unlocked the door behind the tapestry.  After returning the key, he reached towards the wall and retrieved the lantern that was hanging on a hook.  He placed the handle of the lantern in her hand and held her arm out straight in front of her.  After letting go of her arm, he pulled up on the chain and grabbed her hair on the back of her head and marched her into their room.