By His Command (House of Submission 2)

‘I would let him touch my breast, sir. I would let him lift my skirts and touch me there too.’

‘Touch you there? Until you spent?’

‘Yes, sir,’ I whispered.

‘But you sav

ed your maidenhead?’

‘Yes, sir, for after a week of private assignations had passed, he began to court a young lady from a neighbouring town and I was heartbroken.’

‘The assignations ended?’

‘Not quite. I still let him … when he came upon me, alone, sometimes … I could not give him up. But I held out when it came to my virtue.’

Jasper snorted. ‘Virtue. What virtue is there in a thin sliver of flesh? You had given him very much more than you should have done already.’

‘I know, sir. I am ashamed.’

‘Ashamed, are you?’

‘But I have learned my lesson. I shall not give my heart again.’

‘But your body?’

I wondered what the best answer would be to that. I didn’t know how Jasper’s film was going to develop. Would Walters allow her master to touch her intimately? I decided, in a flash, that Walters was a sensual woman who wished to be bedded, but who did not wish to give anything of herself to any man. She would want Cruel Bastard to think he was forcing her. She would make him think that he was taking something she did not want to give. But he would be quite deceived.

‘My body does not belong to me,’ I said. ‘I am in your service.’

Jasper gave a little gasp, of admiration, I think.

‘That is an excellent answer,’ he said, and I think he addressed me rather than Walters. ‘Excellent. Perfect.’ He swallowed.

The tension in the air was affecting us both. Sweat beaded on my upper lip and I was grateful that Jasper had moved back behind me and was not watching my face.

I wondered if he had any inkling of my reading of the character, or if he thought I was being sullenly defiant. Either way, the scene would work.

‘In that case,’ he said, recovering his tone of authority, which had wavered a little, ‘I will use my property as I see fit. Part your legs, Walters.’

I spread them and, as he had described in his talk of Larkin, the split cloth revealed my most private parts to him.

‘I can see how red you are,’ he said. ‘Although, that much was clear through that thin cotton. But to see it uncovered …’

His fingertips brushed my skin, settling themselves around my lower lips, which were lightly downed with pubic hair, since I hadn’t been expecting him. It was more Victorian that way anyway.

‘This is what your young master got to toy with?’ he said, running one finger up and down each lip in turn.

My clitoris was straining for his touch, throbbing with need. It had been making its presence insistently felt since about the third stroke of the crop.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘You let him put his fingers inside and get them good and wet and sticky, did you?’

He suited his actions to words, treating my clit to a judicious fingering.

‘Many times, sir,’ I whimpered. ‘Many times a day.’

‘Did you ever suck his prick?’