Maz, panting and bright-eyed, bounded away from the pillory after thirty strokes of the ruler paddle, linking her arms in ours and declaring herself “subspaced out”. We ate and drank some more, then watched a Shibari demonstration. I’d thought it was a brand of kitchen knife rather than rope bondage. How wrong can one be?
The more I learned, the less I knew.
Chapter Eight
THE HANDS OF the clock crept towards midnight. Any residual inhibitions amongst the crowd were long gone. People were making out on the stairs, whipping each other over the tables, giving head underneath them.
Somewhere in here, the Victorian Gent – His Lordship – waited for me.
Unless he’d found another submissive worthier of his time and attention. The idea jolted me more than I expected it would. Being singled out by this doyen of domination had flattered me on some level deeper than I knew, and I intended to prove that the potential he had seen in me was no mirage.
Maz and Justin had descended to bitching about people’s poor grasp of fetish fashion and/or spanking technique; it was easy to slide into a state of inertia, listening to their barbed comments while the long hand of the clock moved in its inexorable circle.
‘I don’t have a problem with the schoolgirl kink,’ said Maz, ‘but once you’re past fifty, you should probably move on to naughty nurse, don’t you think?’
‘Age is just a number,’ reproved Justin. ‘That remark might come back to haunt you in years to come. But that headmaster’s gown is filthy. Didn’t they think to run it through a wash cycle before they came tonight?’
‘Ugh. Looks like it’s been jizzed on.’
‘It probably has,’ I said, and then the first stroke of 12 rang out over the assembled heads, in their mortarboards and their gimp masks, their periwigs and their devil horns. The witching hour. Time to turn into a pumpkin. Or a bonded submissive.
‘We mustn’t be late,’ I said, tugging at Justin’s hand.
‘No,’ he agreed.
His Lordship stood at the foot of the staircase, surrounded by people, all of whom seemed to be clamouring for his attention. Instead of giving it, he frowned at a splendid gold fob watch, fist closed around the handle of his cane.
Justin edged through the crowd, dragging Maz and I behind him in a train. We pushed through heat and sweat, stale perfume and the unmistakable aroma of sex, until we reached our destination.
His Lordship looked up. Without saying a word, he turned and began to ascend the stairs. The groups at his feet sighed and turned away, disappointed to be the Unchosen Ones.
‘You’ll need to show me to your room, Justin,’ he said. Justin broke his link with us and stepped up past His Lordship, leading us into the East Wing. Maz and I scurried behind them like handmaidens, making grimaces of nervous excitement at one another behind the men’s backs. I was too anxious to feel aroused, though I was looking forward to getting out of the slave gear, especially the collar, which had begun to chafe.
Justin opened the door and stretched out an arm, indicating the giant four-post bed, big enough for six people and so very convenient for tying things to.
His Lordship watched Maz and I sidle in and stand on the other side of the door, looking down at the carpet.
‘What’s your name?’ he asked me, reaching out a finger to tip my chin up. ‘Not that it’s important.’
‘Keris,’ I lied, used now to splitting identities between my day self and my night self.
His forefinger and thumb pinched my chin. I realised I’d forgotten something.
‘Sir,’ I added.
‘Very green, aren’t you, Keris? If we decide to take this further, I’ll give you a different name. How would you feel about that?’
‘It would be fine, sir,’ I said. ‘I’m not sentimental about my name.’ My false name, that is.
‘Good. What if the name I gave you was obscene or insulting, though? How would you feel about that?’
‘Oh, well, it would depend what it was, sir. Context is important too.’
‘Yes, yes, that’s true. Context is important.’
His eyes were keen and the angles of his face sharp, giving it an ageless quality. He was capable of looking cruel, but when his muscles relaxed, he had an elegant, insouciant air. His face alone was the most complex thing I’d ever seen. I couldn’t imagine how long it would take to really know a man like this.
Something about that excited me.