She has her bath, returning an hour or so later scented of lavender and rose. We drink, but not too much. We eat, sharing Charlotte’s favourite treats; cheese, bread, olives, strawberries and cream. She sits on the rug by the fire, not hitting the food the way she normally does, but nonetheless, she eats.

Then she sits, inert, leaning back against my legs as I stroke her hair.

Over her head, James cocks a brow to me, tilts his head. I nod.

He rises, takes Charlotte’s hand and pulls her upright, then kisses the fingers. “You are going to go downstairs now, undress and wait for us. Michael and I will join you in a few minutes…” She hesitates… “And the next words I expect to hear from you are ‘Yes, Master’.”

She bows her head. “Yes, Master.”

“Good.” I pass her a glass of Rioja… “Now, drink your wine… And I want you to have another glass after that.”

*****

Downstairs, in the basement, James’ ‘playroom’, the demesnes of a Master, she’s waiting for us. As he instructed, she’s naked, kneeling, head lowered and the glass she took down with her, empty.

She’s goosing a little. The heating hasn’t quite dispelled the chill yet, but that won’t matter. With what James has in mind, I’m sure she’ll soon be warm.

And the hearth glows; old logs dropping to embers, new logs flickering new flames. The light shimmers gold and amber. Candles reinforce the honeyed glimmer, sending dancing shadows over wall and arch.

James gestures me towards her and then to a ceiling hook. “Charlotte, stand up.”

She rises, chewing her lip, trembling slightly…

Cold?

… Or nervous?

Stepping close, I wrap arms around her, holding her against myself, giving her the heat of my body. One hand winding into her hair, with the other I caress the smooth skin of her back and shoulders, “Shhh… It’s alright. Calm down.”

“What’s going to happen?”

“Remember your safety words. You may need them.”

jolts. Her eyes dart. “Is he angry? Is he going to

nothing to be punished for. But he is very concerned for you.

“What then?”

How to say this?

going to take you out of yourself, then

still a tremor

can always say ‘No.’ Do you want to? No-one

dumbly, she shakes her head. Taking her hand, I lace my fingers with hers. “Come on. You’ll

“Are you sure?”

I’m sure. You

“Yes, I do.”

him take you the

as I lead her to where James waits, a flogger in one hand, swishing

severe, frightening even, but as his eyes follow her, I

… the pity…

anchor point, I press my lips to hers

“Cuffs will be fine.”

by him to the racks,

“And she’ll be

what I told

snug fit to her wrists; a carabiner and a length of rope connect her to the

and I check her colour; hands, fingers, face, then casting across to James he micro-nods me

Muscles tremble and quiver. And she smells cool, with no scent of arousal. Drifting fingers between her thighs I test her, then

the cupboard where I keep a store of

arousal. My hands on her waist, my fingers almost encircle her as I work her spine with my thumbs. Then slipping upwards; her ribs, her muscles, her shoulders; gradually I ease her, rubbing in, digging into the tension knotted there,

over the back of a seat. His tie is next. Tugging at the knot, he loosens it, unravels it, then unfastens the top button of his shirt

cup a breast, nuzzling into her hair and her neck. “You’re so beautiful. I never forget how beautiful you are. Or that you are my wife. Or that I love you. And I will never let anyone hurt you. Never. And neither will

hands cupping and stroking, my chest pressed to

again setting them to one side, then unbuttons his shirt and kicks off his shoes. Barefoot now, stripped to the waist,

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