Master of the House (24 page)

‘Bench, post, hook or something else?’ One of them asked Joss.

‘I think I’ll use the hook for this,’ he said. ‘Could I have something to tie her wrists with? Something light?’

They handed over a pair of marabou-trimmed velvet cuffs. Joss steered me to the centre of the stage and made me stand in the ninth position. I was grateful beyond words at not having to face the crowd. I clasped my hands behind my neck, but not for long, because Joss unlaced them and made me put them in the air so he could fix them together with the surprisingly comfortable cuffs. He attached the linking chain to a hook in the ceiling, and this pulled me up until I was on tiptoe. I felt my nipples pop out of their scant covering, forced upwards like that, and burned at the thought of the guardian people seeing them. They were still slightly protected by a layer of gauze, but I knew that wouldn’t be enough.

‘Choose your implement, sir,’ said the same official.

From the corner of my dazzled eye, I saw him opt for a flogger, a friendly-looking one with purple suede strands, unknotted at the ends. This could have been much worse. I would have heaved a sigh but my position, coupled with the corset, wasn’t easy on the sighing reflex.

The lights were too much and I shut my eyes. All around me eddied the noise of the spectators, a comforting jumble with nothing standing out. They could be talking about the weather for all I could discern.

But then I felt Joss’s hands at my waist and I knew – why had this not occurred to me before? – that he was going to part the skirts behind.

‘Oh,’ I exclaimed sharply, and then there was laughter.

‘Bad girls get spanked on their bare bums,’ said someone, amid shouts of ‘hear hear’ and ‘I should think so too’.

‘I think Lulu had forgotten,’ said Joss. He pulled the fabric drapes apart. My bottom goose-pimpled with the sudden chill of exposure and I clamped my thighs tight.

Everyone is looking at my bottom. Everyone can see my bottom.

I had to bite my lip to quell my moan of embarrassment, but at the same time I was buzzing between my legs, my body overtaken by a kind of sensual rapture.

Joss placed his hand over the curve and stroked it for a short while. Stroking turned to patting.

‘Are you going to spank her or fuck her?’ someone called.

‘Either is fine,’ said another, to general laughter. ‘Or both.’

Joss acted on his audience feedback and stepped away. I felt the ticklish tails of the flogger on my sensitised skin, then they went and then …

A little burst of sensuous sting on my skin, flicking down for a moreish second before disappearing, then repeating. It felt utterly, gorgeously amazing. I wanted more and I pushed my bottom back, which the crowd seemed to appreciate.

I tried to grasp what was happening to me, to suck every morsel of shame and delight from it into my head, but it was too big and I found myself concentrating instead on details – the high pitch of someone’s voice in the crowd, the aching of my calves, the whispering of one guardian to the other. I wished I could see Joss but I accepted that it wasn’t possible and kept my eyes closed.

In due course, the sweet, stimulating kiss of the flogger developed teeth and I began to bounce on my tiptoes and sway in my cuffs. The heat on my bottom spread and filled all the gaps until it was one big beacon. I imagined it, scarlet and puffy for the delectation and amusement of the crowd. It was more difficult to keep my thighs locked together now and it was increasingly likely that some close watchers might have had a glimpse of something more than I wanted to reveal.

Just when I thought I was close to losing my composure completely, Joss struck his last and handed the flogger back to the guardians.

There was a round of applause.

Joss brushed his knuckles across my heated skin and I heard a low-down purr of pleasure in his chest before he reached up to uncuff me.

My arms were a little stiff, but I fell easily into his embrace and our kiss was so long and so thorough that I forgot we were doing it in front of dozens of people until the next couple, impatient for their turn, joined us on stage.

‘I love you so much,’ he whispered, before taking my hand and leading me down into the crowd. I avoided their eyes but it wasn’t until we were out of the room that I realised my skirt was still parted, giving anyone and everyone a marvellous view of my stinging behind.

I reached around to cover myself, but Joss tapped my hand sharply and said, ‘Not yet.’

‘But Joss, sir, I mean …’

‘Sh.’

In the corridor, among the milling guests, he kissed me again, his hands covering my immodestly exposed flesh, pressing and kneading it while his tongue scoured my throat.

‘If I didn’t have other plans,’ he muttered into my ear, ‘I’d have you down on your knees showing your gratitude by taking me in your mouth.’

‘But your other plans?’ I asked, not sure I wanted to hear them.

‘You know.’ He strummed the fingers of one hand along the cleft of my buttocks and I remembered instantly and electrically.

‘Oh.’

He liked the little breath of fear that carried the word from my lips.

‘I don’t want to waste anything,’ he said. ‘I’m saving it all for this.’

He patted my bum again then drew the skirts over it at last.

‘But all these people,’ I said.

‘It’s all right. You’ve been brave enough tonight. Your public submission is over for now. Well, unless you want to do anything else …’

‘I think I’m happy to watch.’

And watch we did, so many different things that my head began to spin, at which point Joss would always take me up to the ballroom for a drink and a dance before sampling more of the decadence.

Shortly before midnight we found ourselves, titillated almost beyond endurance by the preceding hours, in the top-floor boudoir – ostensibly an ‘orgy room’ – watching a woman being teased and brought to the point of orgasm, then denied and spanked, over and over again, by a man and a woman.

I was sitting on Joss’s lap, my skirts parted so that my bare bottom rested on his lump of leather-clad erection. He was hot now, his silk shirt sticking to his chest, and I had long stopped caring about my nipples’ tendency to pop out of the corset every few minutes, and let them free.

As the woman passed a vibrator over the submissive’s clit and the man tongued and kissed her nipples, Joss held my breasts with one hand while the other burrowed inside my skirts. His mouth was clamped to my neck, sucking and licking at it until I could barely keep from melting and spilling all over his lap in a mess of heat and lust.

The threesome were lying upon one of many large beds and divans scattered across the hangar-like room. Some of the beds had thick curtains that could be drawn, others were protected only by gauze. Those who sought privacy could have it, while exhibitionists could exhibit to their hearts’ content. Big baskets of sex toys were beside each bed, with bins to put the used ones in when finished.

At first, I had been startled and a little repulsed by the twisting naked human sculptures on view all over the room, but the shock of it had soon settled into curiosity and from there it had hardened into voyeuristic lust.

‘You like this, don’t you?’ Joss said. ‘You enjoy watching.’

‘Yes,’ I admitted. His hand slipped under my buttocks and he pushed a finger into the parting.

‘You know what you’re getting soon, don’t you?’

‘Uh huh.’ I gulped.

‘What’s the missing word?’ He twisted his finger a little, pushing it down.

‘Sir,’ I said obediently.

‘Would you like to be her?’

The woman had removed the vibrator, turned the submissive over and was paddling her already very sore-looking bottom with a will while the man held her shoulders down.

‘She must be beside herself by now,’ I said.

‘She’s deep into subspace,’ said Joss. ‘Have you ever been there?’

‘I’m not sure. I’ve heard of it, but I don’t really get what it is.’

‘You’re past the point where pain has any meaning. You become your submission, your submission becomes you. You only want more.’

‘I can’t imagine that.’

‘No, but you might experience it. One day.’

I shifted on his hard, tight crotch, feeling it squash against my pussy. All the fingers of one hand were now firmly planted between my bottom cheeks, wriggling and probing. I was grinding my hips, almost unconsciously, wanting to open and spread myself and get him inside me. I moved my face against his, trying to trick his tongue inside my mouth again.

He teased me, his lips touching mine as he spoke, but never satisfying me with the kiss I craved.

‘I can’t wait much longer, Lu. All I can think of is how tight you’re going to be … oh, Lord. Get up. There’s a free bed over there.’

His inquisitive hands wriggled out of their exploring places and were clapped instead on my shoulders. He pushed me to my feet, rose behind me and steered me to his distant destination, a swagged four-poster bed in the far corner of the room.

Our pace was so brisk – almost running – that we attracted a bit of attention en route, and a few curious players followed us and gathered round the bed in expectation of a show.

But Joss, after thrusting me on to the extravagant silk paisley-patterned throw, drew the curtains tight around us. There were mutters of disappointment. I bent to inspect the throw for signs of recent use, but it looked and smelled fresh enough.

‘Don’t worry. They do change the bedding,’ Joss reassured me with a smile. ‘Now lie down on your front and let me have my wicked way.’

I did as he instructed, feeling lightheaded and dreamy. It was comfortable, in a way, to have all agency removed. It made everything so easy …

Behind me, I heard noises indicating the removal of the leather trousers – apparently this brought a feeling of intense liberation, if his long sigh was anything to go by.

His next move was a treat for me: a loosening of the stay laces of my corset.

‘Ahhh, oh, that’s nice,’ I said, then giggled, wondering if anyone was left listening outside the curtain and, if so, what they thought I might be talking about.

‘Restraint and confinement are good things for submissives,’ said Joss, his fingers dancing lightly between my shoulder blades. ‘But this first time, I think you should feel as relaxed as possible.’

I tried not to let this thought tense me, but it did. I knew it would hurt, probably worse than the butt plugs we had been practising with, but I was prepared for it and I wanted to acquit myself with honour.

He straddled me, just south of my hips, and reached above my head for one of the pillows. This he slid beneath my stomach, elevating my behind, but not enough, it seemed, for he added another to raise me still higher.

Then from the basket he took a bottle of what I assumed was lubricant and opened it. The spanking had been a long time ago now, so my skin was no longer heated or even vaguely warm. The lubricant, though, had a kind of spicy, peppery smell and I felt slightly alarmed before he began to slather it over my cheeks.

Very soon it imparted a slow-building tingle to my vulnerable rounds, piquant at first, then spreading into a tissue-deep burn, as if he had paddled me quite hard.

‘What is this?’ I gasped. ‘I thought it was lubricant. God. It’s hot.’

He chuckled.

‘Not lubricant, love. Does it sting?’

‘Yes. It’s really hot.’

‘Mm, it looks it. But I should have worn gloves. My palms. Jesus. OK, I think that’s enough.’

He took some lotion wipes from the basket and soothed his hands before continuing. No such precious treatment for my poor scorching bottom, I noticed.

Now that my bum was hot and red, he dug between my thighs, parting them a little, and played with my clit, fingering me until my breath was hectic and my face was burning like my bottom. The mindless need to come overrode everything else and I whined when he stopped abruptly and took something else from the basket. This time it had to be the lube, surely.

But no. This time it was a vibrator with a clitoral stimulator attachment. He pushed it up inside me – it was medium-length and slim, not a monster – and attached it in place with my clit firmly covered and my pussy filled.

‘Oh,’ I said, a little fearfully.

‘Hmm? Do you have something to tell me?’

He was uncapping something – it
must
be the lube now – and rocking gently on the backs of my thighs. His erection made a sneaky move between my slightly open bottom cheeks and rested there, not quite at the dark entrance it would seek but almost.

The heat on my rear and the fullness at my centre made me feel gorgeously, decadently dirty. I was right for this. I was ripe for it. I was made to be used by him. I began to want it, to really want it. I snuffled into the covers and pushed my bum up.

A trickle, cold at first but soon melting into the same temperature as my body, ran down into that dark valley. Joss’s fingertips coated themselves in it then applied circular pressure to their target. As he pushed and pushed, he switched the vibrator on to a low setting, so that my attention was diffused between the two centres of sensation. It had the desired effect of relaxing my sphincter muscle more than severe focus on it would have done. His forefinger slipped inside, slowly, carefully, but with authority.

‘That’s so good, Lu, you’re doing so well,’ he said, his voice mesmerically low.

I felt my clit, fat and round, my juices slick around the vibrator. It wouldn’t take a lot to push me over the edge.

But he switched off the vibrations now that he had breached me, and I was forced to feel his finger testing me for stretch and depth, then another one joining it. He thrust them slowly, letting me feel each foray to the full, reminding me as he did so that I was good for this, that I needed it, that I should have been getting it regularly since the day we met.

A flutter of curtain made me tense, wondering if somebody was about to draw it and peek inside, but nobody did. All the same, the reminder that we might be observed at any time added a layer of exquisite shame to the experience.

‘Are you ready, darling?’ he whispered into my ear.