Master of the House by Justine Elyot Read Free Book Online Page A

and said, ‘God, sorry. I don’t mean that. Don’t fuck off. Please.’
    ‘It’s all right,’ I said, with a little grin. ‘I’ll make you pay for it.’
    He smiled back, but nervously.
    ‘I’m sure you will. Anyway – enter the palace of delights.’
    The palace of delights, also known as Joss’s bedroom, had seen better days. The four-poster bed was still splendid and glamorous, but the duvet was on the floor and the antique bedside table overflowed with clutter.
    I picked my way over a discarded dressing gown and slippers, aiming for the window.
    ‘Sorry about the mess,’ he said, snatching them up as I negotiated my path. ‘I would have cleared up if I’d thought … well, I wasn’t expecting us to end up here. Not yet.’
    ‘Does he use this room?’ I asked, looking out over the park. ‘You know – your Mystery Man.’
    ‘No. He uses the east wing. Had it all done up to his tastes when he signed the lease.’
    ‘I’d like to take a look.’
    ‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible.’
    He was embarrassed. He was smiling too much.
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘Because he’s had a security door put in and, to tell you the truth, I don’t have a key.’
    ‘He’s locked you out of your own house?’
    Joss shrugged.
    ‘It’s only the east wing. I didn’t use it much anyway.’
    ‘No wonder you want him out.’
    Joss said nothing but stood behind me at the window, so that I felt his shadow falling over me. He was close enough for me to smell his aftershave. Too close.
    ‘What if it works, Joss?’ I said. In the distance, a deer streaked through trees.
    ‘What?’
    ‘Your hare-brained scheme. What if it works and I get my scoop and he abandons this place and releases you from the contract? You’re back to square one. You can’t afford this house. You’ll end up at Wragg’s Caravan Park.’
    ‘There are other ways,’ he said. ‘Tourism. Opening up the grounds. There has to be a better way than this. I didn’t realise when I signed up for it quite how –’ he swallowed, ‘
– humiliating
, yes, humiliating, this was going to be.’
    ‘How are the mighty fallen,’ I said.
    ‘I haven’t reached rock bottom yet,’ he said. He put his fingers very lightly on my arm, just a whisper of a touch but it made me quiver like a bowstring.
    ‘Speaking of bottoms,’ I said, pulling away from him and stepping back, unable to resist an evil smile. ‘Wasn’t there something we were going to do?’
    There was a slightly manic quality to his answering tightening of the lips.
    ‘Let me show you my box of tricks,’ he said, crouching down to pull something out from under the bed.
    It was a battered old suitcase.
    ‘Of course,’ he said, fiddling with the snap locks, ‘my collection has nothing on
his
. He has everything, the most expensive, the best, the latest. Mine is a bit of a ragbag in comparison. But …’
    He opened it. It didn’t look like a ragbag, it really didn’t.
    My skin prickled and I clamped my thighs together, noticing how my pussy tightened in response.
    He looked up at me and his face crumpled in sympathy.
    ‘Oh, darling,’ he said. ‘You’re pale. Don’t be scared.’
    He put out a hand. I took it and knelt down beside him.
    ‘I’m not scared,’ I lied. Whips and chains were all very good in principle, pretty sexy in the imagination, but when you saw them up close and full-sized it was somehow extremely intimidating.
    ‘Think of them as toys,’ he said, picking up a cat-o’-nine-tails-type affair with a red leather handle. ‘It’s all they are, really. Feel the strands – they’re soft as anything.’
    ‘You’re trying to tell me this wouldn’t hurt?’ I said, running my fingers through them. It was rather pleasurable and they felt lighter than air.
    ‘It depends on how it’s used,’ he said. ‘It can stroke you like a lover or it can sting. A bit of both is usually best, I find.’
    ‘When did you get into all this? You weren’t when …’
    ‘Oh, I