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We finish lacing the corset in heated silence, and I can’t stop thinking about how with every tightening lace he has more control. And for this brief moment, I don’t hate it. He finishes. “Walk around the room for a couple of minutes, let your body get used to it.”
I walk in circles, trying to take full breaths and unable to. While I’m walking, Matthew goes to a second armoire where I see more lingerie, and he retrieves something out of a drawer. On my next circle he stops me. “Hands, please.”
My wrists are out in front of me before I can think, and he’s wrapping leather cuffs around my wrists. There’s fleece on the inside, and they’re more comfortable than I would have thought. “Why these?”
“We’ll be in a room full of people, both Doms and subs. These identify you as a submissive.” I open my mouth to protest, but he continues. “For today, and in this context, you are. And this,” he says stepping behind me and placing a thin black collar around my neck, “makes sure that no one will touch you without my permission.”
My heart starts to pound. “You’re going to let someone else touch me?”
“I have that right,” he says mildly. “But I won’t be doing that today, no.”
The choker isn’t so tight I can’t breathe, but it’s tight enough that I’m very aware of it. I’m sure that’s intentional.
“Can you breathe a little better now?”
I suck in a breath, and I find that I can. “Yes.”
“Perfect,” he says with a wicked grin. “Time to tighten it more.”
Eight
Matthew is merciless with the corset, and yet somehow my body still adjusts as he has me walk around the room. He pulls me over to face the mirror in the armoire door and my breath catches. I look…sexy. I’ve always had what I thought was a perfectly average body, and the way the corset reshapes it gives me that hourglass look that every girl dreams of having. “Wow.”
“Indeed,” he says. “Now, the party is already in progress, so we should get downstairs.”
“What will I be doing?”
He turns to me. “You don’t need to worry about that. I will tell you what is expected of you and when. That’s part of being a submissive—trusting your master to make all the decisions in your best interest. And since this is most definitely a sexual situation, you will address me properly for the rest of the afternoon.”
I flick my eyes down to the carpet so he doesn’t see how having to call him Sir grates on me. And like hell am I ever calling him Master. “Yes, Sir.”
He touches me on the head. “Good girl. You may walk behind me.”
I’m led through the house, and outside of the bedroom it suddenly occurs to me how ridiculous I must look. Getting dressed up in lingerie in a bedroom is one thing. Parading around a mansion in it is something you only see in music videos. I almost feel like pinching myself, because this can’t possibly be real life.
We walk down a hallway that he didn’t show me on the house tour earlier, to a thick door that almost looks like a vault. He opens it, and I hear the slight whoosh that accompanies soundproof rooms. But that’s nothing, because the room in front of me is huge, and full of people having sex. Kinky people having sex. I take a step back and find myself pressed against Matthew. His hand lands on my shoulder, erasing any ideas that I could turn and walk the other way.
There are a lot more people than I expected. The room is a big rectangle, and it’s filled with equipment I’ve never seen before. The walls are a warm, nutty brown and there’s thick carpet under my feet. Despite the equipment, the room has an air of comfort, especially with the sunlight pouring through big west-facing windows. But the thing that draws my eye the most are the people. Matthew did warn me that this was a party for Doms and subs, and it’s so much stranger than I imagined.
I see Jenny and Chris curled into an armchair together. There’s a scream of an orgasm from the far corner, and the sounds of flesh slapping together. I try not to look. You don’t watch other people having sex. Matthew guides me over to a small bar where there’s a tray of champagne flutes, already full. “You’re going to greet our guests. Offer the champagne only to the Doms. I’ll be waiting here for you.”
He wants me to serve champagne? Seriously? I look at him to see if he’ll crack, to see if he’s joking, but he only looks at me expectantly. I feel blood rise to my cheeks thinking about what I saw, and what I might have to interrupt. “What if…what if they’re busy.”
