Master of the House

I followed her command, for it was a command, however kindly spoken, and I felt it came by proxy from Joss.

Standing bare and chilly in front of two people was a new experience for me, and one I couldn’t decide whether I liked or not. O took it all in her stride; after all, she must have seen scores of naked women in her time, but Joss was less composed. I heard him swallow. It tipped the balance from mortifying to delicious for me and I pressed my thighs together, feeling the little buzz between them.

‘Lovely,’ whispered O with a wink, then she held out the dress for me to step into. At first it was barely there, swishing and frothing against my skin like foam, but once she had pulled it all the way up and left it to rest loosely upon me, I could see how it would work. Although the skirts were full, they were not all of a piece. They consisted of two lengths of fabric that overlapped at front and back but could be parted like curtains to expose my sex and bottom.

As for the bodice, the corset part ended just a squeak above my nipples. Once the laces were pulled tight, the nipples would be partially hidden but could be pulled out with the slightest effort and my extravagant cleavage turned into fully bared breasts.

O turned me so m

y profile was to Joss and began to pull at my corset laces.

‘Look how this accentuates the bust,’ she purred, turning me to face Joss before she pulled me even tighter. ‘Once I’m done, they’ll look enormous compared to her tiny waist.’

I wasn’t sure I could take it any tighter, but O squeezed me until I begged her to stop, then tied the laces securely.

She stepped back and clapped her hands.

‘Oh, perfect! But I must ask your lordship for your opinion.’

‘It will do very nicely, thank you,’ he said, his voice low. ‘Come over here, Lucy.’

‘How do you want her hair?’ asked O, as I walked towards him, still trying to accustom myself to the constriction of my waist and ribs. The skirts shifted as I moved and I feared they might come apart, but they didn’t. The silk sent tiny wafts around my loins, tickling them. I felt very much as if I was nothing but sex. It was what I was dressed for, what I was made for, what Joss would have from me.

‘I’d like to see her neck,’ he said.

‘I’ll put it up then. I’ll come up and do your make-up too, if you like,’ she offered. It was a moment or two before I realised she was talking to me and not Joss.

‘Thanks,’ I said, not taking my eyes from his.

His attention was absolutely riveted to me; if I could have taken a photograph of the measureless depths of lust in his eyes I would have done.

Once I was close to him, he put his hands around my waist, feeling how much smaller than usual it had been made.

He let out a low sigh of pleasure, then said, ‘I can’t wait to show you off.’

The back of my neck prickled. I could almost feel O’s eyes burning into my back, imagine the little ironical smile playing on her lips.

‘Seven,’ Joss whispered.

I was confused at first – what on earth did he mean by that? – but then the swift downward drop of his eyes revealed his intention. I knelt at his feet in the required position. The floor was stone and my silken skirts did little to ease its hardness on my knees but I stayed where I was bidden all the same. I wanted to perform for O, to show her that I was as ‘real’ as she was in her submission. Was I? I probably wasn’t, but it seemed important to play the part to the absolute hilt.

When his hands cupped my breasts, moving around and assessing their new contours, I gasped. He was feeling me up right in front of this woman! But still I did not move or protest, but let him take his time with me, stroking and pressing at my presented mounds, until my nipples were throbbing and my thighs a-tremble.

‘Mm,’ he said. ‘The corset does a lot for your submission, doesn’t it, Lulu?’

‘Works like magic,’ remarked O.

‘Yes, sir,’ I whispered.

‘And if I want to see your nipples,’ he murmured, lowering the ribboned top edge of the garment and freeing them. ‘This is all it takes.’

I almost unclasped my hands from the back of my neck in order to take a swift glance at O, but I held on until my arms ached from the effort of it, determined to convince our expert voyeur that I was no neophyte.

Joss played with my nipples for a while, with a considered slowness that almost mesmerised, then he let go and said, quite sharply, ‘Nine.’

I scrambled to my feet, keeping my hands locked behind my neck, as I had practised so many times. All the rehearsal had paid off and I was able to do it with a semblance of grace. I stood before him, breasts thrust outwards, legs apart, waiting for his next move.

‘She’s lovely,’ remarked O. ‘Look at that flush on her cheek. You’ve got her in the palm of your hand, my lord.’