Master of the House - Page 52

Other accessories.

These were on my mind as I busied myself with sheets and pillowcases. He had already mentioned the riding crop. My bottom tingled in anticipation, apparently connected to my imagination. I pictured Joss swiping it through the air until it landed with a fearsome crack upon the curve of my rear cheeks. Oh, that would hurt. It would leave quite a mark. I put my hand beneath the hem of my T-shirt dress and felt my buttocks, rubbing the cotton that covered them. What state would they be in later?

I sat on the made bed and drew my knees to my chin. My heart felt hectic and bumpy in my chest. Whatever else this was – sick, mad, ill-advised, damaging – it was certainly exciting.

Was I quivering or was it just the familiar feeling of the van shaking as another person walked across it? I’d forgotten about that, and about how loud it sounded when a bird landed on the roof. The thud of it made me jump so that my heart pattered even faster. Jingling sounds came from the living-room. He had mentioned rope, but did he have chains?

‘Lie down on your front,’ he called from the end of the passage. ‘Oh, make sure you’re naked first. Give me a shout when you’re ready.’

I threw off the T-shirt dress and underwear and placed myself flat and face down on the duvet. My nipples were squashed into the cold, puffy cotton and I kept my thighs clamped tight together. I rested my forehead on my clasped hands and waited.

‘I’m ready,’ I said, feeling too foolish to add the ‘sir’ he probably wanted from me.

I heard the door click and the sound of pipes clinking gently together as he placed his possessions on the foot of the bed. Something silky brushed my calf – perhaps the rope.

‘I want you to keep your eyes shut for this,’ he said. ‘If you think you’ll struggle to do that, I have a blindfold. Do you think you’ll need it?’

This sounded like trouble.

‘What are you going to do?’ I asked.

‘The point is, my love, that you don’t know. But you trust me. You have to learn to trust me. Even if it’s only in my role as your fake dom. It has to look real, and to look real it has to be real. That’s my experience.’

I lifted my neck but didn’t look round at him.

‘That’s a lot to ask.’

‘I know. But are you willing to try?’

I nodded.

‘Don’t blame me if I can’t do it, though.’

‘I won’t blame you. We can stop at any time. But we’ll have to try again later. We have to keep trying. Is that understood?’

I said, ‘Yes, sir,’ without even baulking at the ‘sir’. It just came out, its passage eased by his serious and authoritative manner.

‘So, do you want the blindfold or not?’

‘I’ll try and keep my eyes shut,’ I said, lowering my head again.

‘Good. OK.’

I felt the mattress top lift and I could hear something being slid underneath it, next to the wall.

‘I miss my four-post bed in situations like this,’ sighed Joss. ‘So perfectly functional when it comes to bondage.’

Next the process was repeated with the bottom of the mattress, and something heavy was shoved at the foot of the bed, presumably to keep it in place.

He came to my side and gently tugged my right arm out and straight, so that it pointed upwards. He wound a silky-feeling band around my wrist until it was immobile, then he secured it in a way I couldn’t work out. He didn’t tie a knot, nor did he turn a key. It was attached to something, presumably whatever it was he had placed under the mattress. He did the same thing to my left wrist. I could not move my arms now. The feeling of helplessness made my breath shorten and my head start to spin.

Already, there was so little I could do to defend myself.

Should I have refused to do this? Should I have stayed at home and abandoned this whole crazy scheme? My head said yes. My heart … the jury was out.

He took my right ankle and bound it too, pulling my leg into a diagonal angle from my torso so that my pussy was exposed. It was even more open once my other ankle was pulled wide. My bonds were taut and I was held close in them. Now he could do what he wanted with me. It only remained to see what that might be.

‘Can you move?’ he asked quietly. ‘Try and move.’

Tags: Justine Elyot Erotic
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