Masters And Lovers 1-4

Chapter 55

Between courses of the spectacular meal, nature calls. I rise from the table. “Ummm…”

Michael points out of the room. “Down the hall and on the left. I’ll show you. Heading that way myself.”

In the bathroom, “Michael, am I missing something? Elizabeth and I are here today at James’ invitation,

but Charlotte seemed uncomfortable at first. At least until he made it completely clear to her what his

intentions were.”

The blond man shuffles on his feet.

“Is it me?” I say. “Have I done something to offend?”

“No,” he says quickly, zipping up. “It’s not you.”

“What then?”

He rubs at his forehead. “The fact is…. that our relationship with Charlotte has had its ups and downs.

And some of the downs were very down.”

The sound of laughter echoes down the hall. He glances toward the dining room. “Look,” he says. “I’m

happy to have this conversation with you sometime. But not today, eh?”

“I understand. But you’re sure everything is alright with Charlotte?”

“The way she’s been knocking turkey back? Yes, she’s fine. Have fun.” He grins and winks.

*****

The pudding is a spectacular experience. James brings it in, dressed with holly and resplendent on its

silver tray.

“Homemade?” I ask.

“Of course.”

He places it in the centre of the table, takes the brandy bottle as though to pour it over, then offers it to This content belongs to Nô/velDra/ma.Org .

Charlotte. “Would you like to light up?”

She grins, glugging the bottle over the pudding. Michael chuckles. “Hey, take it easy, Charlotte. We all

need to be able to stand upright afterwards.”

James offers her a lighted taper. Taper in one hand, bottle in the other, she applies both to the

pudding….

With a wooomph, yellow flame leaps upwards, spreads across the ceiling in a starburst, then drops

back down again to burn sedately over the pudding with a pale blue glow. The air is scented with

alcohol, apples, cinnamon and nutmeg, and just a touch of caramel.

James gives her a look and her head drops. “Sorry, Master.” But he is suppressing a smile, and so is

she.

Michael’s voice is dry. “Better get that ceiling repainted hadn’t I, then….”

*****

“Another brandy, Richard?” James offers the bottle towards my glass.

“Later perhaps.”

Not too much alcohol….

James' eyes lift to mine and he cocks a brow in question. I reply with the smallest of nods.

Charlotte is huddled with Elizabeth, deep in conversation, discussing the pendant James gave her….

“…. they’re extinct now but there used to be thousands of different species. They all had this

chambered shell structure.” She holds it up to the light, pointing out some detail. “You can see it there if

you look closely….”

I rise, then meet Michael’s eye. He smiles, nods and I head-point him to Elizabeth.

As he stands, the women become aware of us. Michael offers his hand to Elizabeth and I offer mine to

Charlotte. They exchange glances, both colouring a little, then rise together.

As each accepts the offered hand, James waits in the background, watching the scene unfold. Michael

and Elizabeth walk ahead of us, exiting the dining room. James strolls by my side as we move along

the hall towards the door to the basement.

I try to keep my voice low enough for Charlotte not to pick up my words. Nonetheless, her lips quirk as I

say to James, “Is it me, or is Michael walking a little awkwardly?”

James' eyes slide side-long to mine. “He had a frustrating morning. I think Beth will be getting the

benefit of that frustration.”

I can sympathise with that…

*****

In James’ playroom, he’s gone to a lot of trouble to make it welcoming. The large open hearth at one

end blazes, casting a flickering golden light over otherwise dark stonework. The fire has clearly been

burning for some hours, but just as obviously, there is some other heating in the background and the

temperature is more than comfortable.

Candles gleam from sconces scattered around the chamber, adding their dancing light to the warm

glow from the fire.

Michael stands to one side, lips curving as Elizabeth turns to face me. She too is smiling. There is

nothing in her of the confusion and uncertainty of the first time we did this.

Does she want him?

Her eyes, the green of the sea, are wide-pupiled. Her skin is sheening, and her breathing quickens….

Yes, she wants him….

I kiss her on the lips then murmur, “Happy Christmas, my Love”.

My hands on her shoulders, I steer her around, turning her to face her blond, blue-eyed beau. My

palms on her, I feel no tension; only a growing tremble of arousal….

You’ve been looking forward to this….

“Take off your clothes,” I say. “Show yourself to Michael.”

He doesn’t speak but his eyes drop to hers, then follow her hands as she unravels the belt of the dress.

I had anticipated she might struggle with the laces at the back. In fact, it was one of the reasons I

chose the dress. She needs help to remove it.

As she fumbles at the back of her neck, Michael stretches around her, tugging the laces free and the

dress slides away from her, the silky fabric pooling at her feet before Michael picks it up then carefully

folds it, lying it to one side.

Elizabeth is in her underwear; a green lingerie set….

Should I finish undressing her?

Or make her undress for him?

Which would arouse her more?

“And the rest,” I say.

Obediently, she unfastens her bra and slides down her panties, then quivering, stands naked to face

Michael. His eyes are soft on her but judging by the ridge in his pants, it’s the only part of him that is.

I don’t touch her, my lovely submissive. “Now,” I say, “on your knees for your Master of the Evening.”

Her skin ripples as the frisson runs through her and she drops. Michael offers a hand, steadying her as

she falls to her knees. His eyes briefly meet mine then follow to where Elizabeth looks up to him.

Is she alright?

Perhaps wait a moment…

Just in case…

I’d expected her to kneel head bowed, but instead, she’s looking up. Michael’s smile is easy and

relaxed….

Yes, they’re comfortable with each other….

As I turn my attention to James and Charlotte, Michael is unbelting his pants….

With a look of great relief….

…. and offering her his shaft.

I suppress my smile….

He’s fucking huge….

Yes, a frustrating day….

… until now….

Charlotte, off to one side, is standing to face James. Both have been watching me giving Elizabeth to

Michael. Satisfied that Elizabeth is happy, I turn to them.

Charlotte’s eyes are wide as she meets mine but flick back to James as he lifts her chin with a finger,

then stoops to press a gentle kiss to her lips, murmuring soft words. “Happy Christmas, Charlotte.”

Then, mirroring my actions with Elizabeth, he turns her by the shoulders to face me. “I am giving you to

Richard now. He is your Master for tonight.”

She’s not smiling, but her mouth is a little open, and her head turns, her eyes sliding back as behind

her, James eases down the zipper of her dress. Then, kissing her on the side of her neck, he slips the

dress from her shoulders.

Naked now save for flimsy black silky panties and high-heeled court shoes, she is a beautiful sight. The

panties are well-chosen, cut high, contouring over the smooth hollow of thigh to hip to emphasise

already long legs.

Her mouth opens a little further, her breathing becoming heavier. She looks down, still not smiling.

Is she good?

But her scent is rising, sweet and musky.

She’s okay….

“Take them off,” I say… Her eyes flick up to mine…. “and your shoes. You should be naked for your

Master.”

Her throat ripples, her chest beginning to heave as she steps out of the shoes then slips off the panties.

James’ hands on her shoulders, he reaches around to kiss her on the side of her face then, pressing

lightly down. “Knees.”

She lowers herself carefully, gracefully, to settle kneeling, thighs spread, head bowed, palms flat to her

thighs. Beautifully naked, clothed only in her glorious hair, she is the very image of the perfect

submissive….

And yet you’re not a sub…

Not really…

And her earlier uncertainty has unsettled me.

I have to ask her...

Consent...

“Look at me, Charlotte.”

Her head raises, and eyes as green as a tropical sea fix on mine. Her hair sways with the movement,

glowing bronze and amber in the play of candles and firelight.

“Happy Christmas, Charlotte,” I say. “Do you want to play?”

Do you want me…?

And at last, she smiles. “I do, sir, yes.”