Master of the House

‘No, not that one either,’ I said severely. ‘It’s a metaphorical table and it’s really rather small. More of an occasional table – the one at the bottom of the nest that you can fit maybe a cup of coffee and a small side plate on.’

‘What’s on the side plate?’

‘A scone. I don’t know. Stop it. I don’t want you making me laugh right now.’

‘Sorry. You’re making my mouth water, though. Strawberry jam and clotted cream. Could we discuss this over a cream tea?’

‘No.’

I was becoming a little agitated at his derailing of my serious conversation and he could see it. He looked down at his crossed legs then shot me a contrite look from beneath lowered lashes.

‘Sorry. You should have whipped me harder. Go on, then. The floor’s yours. And the table.’ His humble apology was spoiled somewhat by the little snort of mirth that accompanied his final words, but I chose to ignore it.

‘I want to make it crystal clear that I don’t expect us to have sex.’

That wiped the grin off his face.

‘What? But I don’t know how that’s …?’

‘Possible? Of course it is.’

‘But if we’re going to convince His Nibs that we have a true bond …’

‘Orgasm denial? Chastity devices? You must have heard of them. Tell him that’s what we practise.’

Momentarily lost for words, he merely stared at me. I began to feel intimidated.

‘No,’ he said, his senses at last catching up with his shock. ‘No, that wouldn’t work. The sub can be denied orgasms – but not the dom. Orgasm denial is a challenge – you still have to have sex with me, you just don’t get to come.’

‘How dull. Still, it takes all sorts, I suppose. Chastity belts, then?’

‘You really want to go there?’

‘No, I don’t really want to, but I don’t think you deserve to get your grubby little mitts on me and so …’

‘OK.’ He swallowed. ‘I understand why … I really do. I just don’t think this can work without sex … look, Lu, I’ve no right to ask this of you but …’

He broke off. I had a bad feeling, and I was bracing myself to shout ‘No’ over the howling gale of ‘Yes, yes, take me, yes’ that would be howling in my head.

‘Can I try and prove myself worthy of you?’

It was not what I’d expected and I sat up, a strange swoony feeling in my head.

‘Prove yourself worthy of me? How? What do you mean?’

‘Like, I don’t know, a quest. Something my mediaeval descendants might have known all about. If only I could get advice from them. But I get the feeling I’ll need to do more than slay dragons or triumph at the joust to win your favours.’

‘You’re insane,’ I said, after a pause for consideration, but I couldn’t let him see the melting core of me so I made my voice as hard as I could.

‘No, I think it would restore my sanity, actually,’ he said eagerly. ‘For example, you’ve already demanded that I deal with my drinking. That’s a hell of a quest on its own. I wouldn’t do it for anybody – but I’m prepared to do it for you.’

‘You should do it for you,’ I muttered, but this was all taking me a long way past my ability to be tough and uncompromising. It was a stretch trying to find any response that wasn’t a dreamy sigh of ‘Oh, Joss’.

‘Doing it for you is doing it for me.’ He pursued the point with bright eyes, a puppy dog jumping up at me for some positive attention. ‘You have something I want. I’ll climb mountains and cross rivers to get it. It’s pretty simple, really.’

‘You’ll … let me think about what you’re saying. You want something from me – the means to get this unwanted lodger off your back.’

‘More than that,’ he said, but I shushed him.