‘Oh, yes, sir.’
There was such envy in her voice that I forgot to be mortified and felt instead rather smug. Wouldn’t you like to have this gorgeous man for your master? No dice. He’s mine.
‘That will do.’
She left without asking for any opportunity for self-abasement, unlike the male maid from before. I was rather relieved. I disliked it when Joss focused his attention on anybody else, especially his dom attention. If my bottom belonged to him, so did his hand belong to me. And the rest of us too.
‘Come and eat,’ he invited.
I turned to see him looking breathtaking in tight black leather trousers, knee boots and a billowing black silk shirt. His hair, which was usually in a floppy romantic-hero style, was gelled back from his forehead. It made his eyes look darker and deeper, his face more chisell
ed, the overall effect far more dangerous than I had ever thought he could look.
He enjoyed the little pause for breath I had to take, smiling from ear to ear.
‘Like it?’
‘Wow.’
‘Of course, we’ll be wearing masks, so …’
‘I’ve suddenly lost all interest in the seafood salad,’ I said. ‘Now that you …’
Could we just cancel the ball and go to bed?
‘All in good time,’ he said. ‘I must admit I’d rather be eating you than these prawns, but we must pace ourselves, my love.’
I managed to swallow a morsel or two, but I spent much more time looking at him than at my plate.
‘I haven’t seen the masks,’ I said suddenly.
‘O was going to drop them in.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Any time now, I think.’
Her knock was so timely that we giggled.
Joss went to answer the door.
‘Oh, my Lord,’ she said, and I wasn’t sure if she was addressing him or simply exclaiming. I couldn’t really blame her for the latter.
She stepped into the room. She had changed and was now wearing a jewelled corset. She wasn’t wearing her skirts down but had them rolled up into little panniers that sat on her hips. Her legs were in long fishnet hold-ups but she wore no knickers and her shaved, vajazzled pubic area was on full display. It was way more shocking than if she’d been naked.
I wanted to comment, or ask about it, but felt sure it would be considered bad form, so I didn’t. Was she really just going to walk about with her arse and pussy bared to the whims of all who passed all night?
Joss complimented her on her outfit and she performed a little curtsy, odd to watch when no skirts were involved in the gesture.
‘Mal has ordered me to keep the skirts up all night,’ she said wearily. ‘I don’t think the mask will do much to conceal my identity, do you?’
She pointed to her vajazzling, which spelled out a large O in bright red hearts. Mind you, Mal’s pointy teeth would be a dead giveaway to all and sundry too. That seemed different, though. I wondered what it would be like to completely belong to a man the way O belonged to Mal – to have to do whatever he ordered. Presumably O got some deep-seated satisfaction out of it, or she’d tell him to bugger off, but I doubted I could ever go that far. Or perhaps I could. Perhaps time would erode my sense of shame and self to the point where I was blasé about running around a vast, draughty warehouse club with all my bits and pieces on show.
What a thought.
O laid the masks on the table. They were exquisitely constructed from silks and velvets, jewels and feathers. Mine made me look like a kitten while Joss’s was more like a panther, which went with the sleek, black look. A feathery, glittery panther, anyway.
‘What do you think? A clever, clever lady I know makes them all. She’s a genius, I think.’
‘Beautiful,’ said Joss, looking at me in my pink and white kitten face. ‘Beautifully anonymous. Whatever is done to you, nobody will guess it is you.’
Yes. Those were words I needed to hear tonight. Once the mask was on, I would become His Submissive, a kind of alter ego, yet also a part of myself.