Chapter Eleven
“Do you like liver?”
I glance over my shoulder as Ewan enters the kitchen.
He’s been in Manchester all day, and I know he won’t have had any opportunity to think about cooking, let alone shopping.
Our normal arrangement is that he deals with our evening meal, and I usually wash up afterwards.
Eventually—we do tend to find ourselves distracted.
I’ve discovered that dirty dishes take no harm though for being left until the following morning, whereas Ewan in dom mode is far more compelling.
No contest.
He doesn’t look especially excited by my culinary plans for this particular evening. His handsome face twists in grimace of distaste.
“Does anyone?” He peers with suspicion at the package on my chopping board.
The sealed bag contains a couple of generous slices of the finest pig’s liver the butcher in the village could produce.
It’s one of my favourites; the butcher often saves it for me.
I guess now it’s headed for the freezer.
Ewan prods at it with his finger, perhaps wanting to assure himself the beast is truly dead.
“Can’t stand the stuff. It reminds me of school dinners, when I was a boy in Aberdeen. ”
I rescue my pig’s liver and stuff the bag unopened into the freezer. Ewan’s scowl suggests he’s still not convinced he made his point. I try for a change of subject, whilst considering my other options for our evening meal.
“I didn’t realise you grew up in Scotland. You don’t have an accent.” Chicken perhaps? Rainbow trout?
“My parents moved there when I was seven. My dad worked on the oil rigs. They separated when I was about thirteen so we moved back down to England. York.”
“I see. Does your mother still live in York then?”
“She does, with my younger sister.”
“You have a mother, and a sister?” Somehow I’ve never considered Ewan in a wider family setting. He’s always seemed so self-contained.
He grins. “Did you think I was beamed in from some alien planet? For your information, little sub, my mother runs a tea shop close to the minster. And my sister has just finished a degree in forensic science at Durham.”
“What’s she called?”
“My mum’s called Jane and my sister’s called Rachel. Are you going to stare into that freezer all evening or can I have your full attention, please?”
I realise I’ve been hovering in the open door, seeking inspiration before I became side-tracked into interrogating Ewan about his nearest and dearest. I close the freezer with a decisive clunk before I turn to face him.
“That’s better. How come you’re so determined to cook tonight?”
“I thought you might be tired, after you’ve been driving, working all day…”
His smile is warm. “That’s nice of you. Considerate. But not necessary. I’m able to scrape together sufficient energy to rustle us up a stir-fry or something of the sort. Would that suit you?”
I nod. “I have some chicken we could use…”
“Excellent. That won’t bring me out in rash. Pity in a way. Poisoning your dom is definitely a serious spanking offence.”
I clench my buttocks, caught between gratitude and disappointment. Gratitude wins out—to be on the receiving end of a punishment spanking is not especially high on my list of favourite pastimes.
Ewan strolls to the freezer and pulls the door open. He retrieves the liver. “It’s been a while since I reminded you of our arrangement. Perhaps I need a decent excuse to take my belt to your gorgeous bottom. What do you think, Faith?”
My buttocks tighten again. “A spanking would be nice. I’m not sure about the belt. Maybe I could save the liver, cook it just for myself when you’re away next…”
“No? I reckon I could convince you. I think you may be right about this stuff though.” He dumps it back in my freezer and slams the door on it.
He turns to look at me, cringing and writhing in front of him.
His lip quirks; he always knows how conflicted this arrangement of ours makes me feel.
One the one hand I love the kinky things he does to me, but the discipline aspect is something I am still working my head around.
He grins. “Do you fancy going out later?”
“Out? But I thought… I mean, don’t you want to…?”
“Spank you? Fuck you? Make you scream? Yes, obviously. I thought we might drive to Sheffield.”
“Sheffield! You mean Fairlawns? You want to go to the club? With me?”
“Yeah. I thought you might enjoy it more if you had a companion, someone to share the fun with.”
I would, definitely. I’ve been thinking about this prospect myself, but would not have raised the matter. For one thing, there’s the possibility of running into David. That would be awkward to say the least. “That would be nice, yes. I would like that. But, what about…?”
“David? Don’t worry about him. There’ll be no problem.”
“I see.” In fact I don’t see at all, but there’s no point in dwelling on that. “When would you like to go?”
“We’ll eat first, then a shower, followed perhaps by a slow, comfortable fuck before you get your glad rags on. You do have some suitable fetish gear, I take it?”
“Yes, sir. It’s been a couple of months since my red and black Lycra has seen the light of day. It’s due an airing.”
“Sounds like it.” Right, food…” He mounts a raid on my salad tray in the fridge, tossing onions, mushrooms, carrots, and spring greens onto the worktop. “Where’s that chicken you mentioned? Do you have any soy sauce?”
I rush to help assemble the ingredients as I contemplate the evening to come. Ewan didn’t dismiss the notion of applying his belt to me, so I have no illusions about that. It’s coming, and soon. The question is, will it be here, before we leave, or at Fairlawns? In front of an audience even?
It strikes me as odd that this is not a prospect I want to reject out of hand. Being publicly thrashed by a stranger would hold no appeal, but with Ewan, it seems different. Intimate, and safe. I relax and set to chopping vegetables.
* * *
I didn’t go for the Lycra after all. I’m wearing my red leather corset, laced tight by Ewan, much more constricting this evening than it has been previously when I’ve had to fasten it myself.
A black suspender belt and stockings, a pair of spiky red stiletto heels, and a scrap of lace masquerading as a thong complete my outfit.
Except for the collar. This is a new twist.
As we were ready to leave my house, Ewan pulled the leather collar from his pocket and asked me to kneel while he put it on me. Without question I dropped to my knees, my heart fluttering as he fastened the leather strap in place.
“Putting a collar on a sub is a serious matter, it indicates a binding commitment, on both sides. It’s not done lightly.
If you were my collared sub for real you’d wear a collar at all times, but this one is just for the club.
It shows you’re with a dom and it will discourage attention from others.
I think you’ll feel more comfortable wearing it. ”
At Ewan’s nod of permission I get to my feet and pull my long raincoat over my clothes. No point causing undue gossip among the neighbours if anyone happens to be peering through their net curtains and spots me heading next door to Ewan’s driveway where his car is parked.
“Thank you, sir.” He’s right. Already I’m experiencing a sense of belonging, of peace and security.
My trepidation evaporates. I’m with Ewan, he’s in charge, he’ll take care of me and nothing will happen that I don’t want.
I’m intensely conscious of the collar now; every time I move my head it nudges my chin or my jaw.
It’s not uncomfortable, it’s just—there.
The drive to Sheffield is pleasant. I’m looking forward to visiting Fairlawns again, this time with an attractive dom at my side. A dom whose collar I am wearing. I approach the place in a very different frame of mind this evening,
Ewan parks in front of the large house and walks around the car to open my door for me.
He holds my hand as we walk across the car park towards the entrance, giving my fingers a quick squeeze just before he rings the doorbell.
The door is opened by the same imposing man I met on my first visit here.
He recognises Ewan immediately. “Mr. Lord, how nice to see you. It’s been a while.”
“Yes, I’ve been busy. Travelling a lot.”
“Of course, of course. But you’re here now. And with a companion I see…” His attention turns to me, and I catch the slight frown of almost-recognition. “Miss…? I think we’ve seen you here before too…?
“Faith is a member, but she hasn’t been for a couple of months. I wanted to show her what she’s been missing.”
“Of course, Mr. Lord. Quite. Enjoy your evening, both of you.” He returns to his station just inside the main door, and Ewan shepherds me across the shining tiles of the huge entrance hall.
We stop at the reception desk for a few minutes to sign in.
Ewan raises his eyebrows in an amused grin as the receptionist checks my membership number, then greets me as ‘Charity.’
“I didn’t want to use my real name.” I mutter the words at him as we make our way to the communal play room. “No one seemed to mind. It seemed to be expected.”
“A lot of members prefer to remain anonymous. Charity it is then. When anyone else is listening.” He opens the door at the end of the hall and I precede him into the room.
The familiar darkness envelops me. It is comforting, a soft blanket to subdue the atmosphere and create a sense of privacy.
I know that to be an illusion, as strategically placed lighting casts pools of illumination where they most matter, on the equipment and apparatus ranged around the room.
And of course, on the members already making use of the facilities.