Master of the House

I didn’t want to think too deeply about how all the dots connected yet.

I wanted to get this evening under my belt. Under his belt.

‘She’s brilliant,’ I said. ‘All the costumes are.’

‘Well,’ said O. ‘I must get on. Our first guests will be arriving very soon. To make your grand entrance, you need to go into the coffee shop. We’ve dressed it up as a ballroom. You might not recognise the place! I’ll see you soon.’

She put on a rabbit mask and turned to leave. I couldn’t help noticing that she had the cottontail to match. In her bum.

In our masks, our mouths were free but our eyes were concealed.

Joss helped me to my feet and kissed me, which was awkward at first, until we were able to co-ordinate masks and stop feathers tickling our faces.

He felt and smelled divine, the silk shirt cold and whispery on my skin, the leather pushing its way through my skirts to rub its smoothness against my legs.

I wanted to fall backwards and spread my legs for him right then and there.

He patted my bottom, held me tight into him for a breathless moment, then broke away from me.

‘Are you ready?’ he whispered. ‘Are you ready to be my submissive tonight?’

‘Any night you like,’ I said.

He cupped my cheek.

‘I’m already proud of you,’ he said. ‘Whatever happens, you know that, don’t you?’

‘I want to make you prouder. I love you.’

We kissed again.

‘Show me,’ he murmured.

He turned me around and nudged me out of the room, walking behind me with his hand on my shoulder.

At the staircase down to the coffee shop, he came to my side and we descended arm in arm, like stately nobles sweeping our way into the royal court.

The shop had been substantially altered. All the tables and chairs were gone and the walls were hung with garlands. A chandelier had been fixed to the central light fitting and the light was glittering and dappled, falling on a growing press of beautifully attired bodies. In the corner by the door sat a harpist – apparently she played an arpeggio every time a new guest or group of guests crossed the threshold.

It all looked terribly civilised. People raked their eyes over us, some interested, some indifferent, then returned to their drinks and conversations.

Joss bowed low, prompting me into a clumsy curtsy, then he shifted behind me and kissed my neck, his hand creeping down the front of my corset in a very blatant and erotically charged manner until I was afraid he would open the skirts in front of everyone.

Nobody was being this amorous yet and I almost bucked him off me, but I managed to shut my eyes and let myself drift into it.

‘I say, what passion,’ said a close bystander. ‘We’ve only just got here and you can’t get your hands off her. Not that I’m surprised.’

‘This is her first public event,’ said Joss, tucking me into the crook of his arm and taking a pair of tall flutes from a circulating tray.

I nudged him – he shouldn’t be drinking – and he handed one of the glasses to the man who’d spoken, the other to me.

‘I prefer to keep a clear head,’ he explained. ‘Is there …?’

Another tray containing pretend champagne appeared as if by magic – sparkling peach juice, he diagnosed, after sniffing at it.

‘You’re probably very wise,’ said the other man. ‘No sub should have to tolerate a drunken dom. Isn’t that right, Charlotte?’

I was surprised to hear that he was accompanied – I had presumed him to be alone. But my mask had made it difficult to look down, which was where his companion was located. On her knees. On the end of a leash which, now I looked closely, I could see wrapped round the man’s hand that wasn’t occupied with the champagne flute.