I was excited. I was nervous. But I was game.
The flood of information and reassurances over the past seven days had made me certain I’d made the right decision. Then, when I arrived on Friday night, Nik spent a long time going over all the rules with me, and then introduced me—formally—to Zee in the lounge room.
“Not wanting to bolt yet?” she asked, her eyes twinkling.
“No, ma’am, definitely not.”
“I’m delighted to hear that. But if at any time youdofeel like bolting, just let us know. We certainly don’t want our staff to feel powerless. Well, not in a bad way.”
I actually blushed, feeling more and more like a kid on the first day of school.
When Nik took me back to the staff quarters, he reiterated what his Domina had said. “Anytime you feel uncomfortable or want a time out, you just use the universal safe words—as you know, we’re using the traffic light system, to make it simple. Zee and I want this experience to be fun and safe foreveryone, at all times.”
Turns out that the subs, or “house staff,” as Nik and Zee consistently call them, have their own wing, plus a private bedroom each. Like I said—big house.
Nik took me to my room and, before I could really take it all in, pointed out the uniform laid out on the bed—black pants, black shirt, black socks and shoes, and a mask to go over my eyes and nose, leaving only my mouth free. The mask was red silk with a velvet strap, and it felt very, very expensive.
“House staff members wear their uniforms at all times,” Nik reminded me. “The mask, particularly, shouldneverbe removed except when you’re alone. You’ll see in the closet that we’ve provided several sets of identical clothes—and masks—for you to wear during your time here. I’ll leave you to unpack your things now, and then I’ll be back to collect you for orientation. But first, I must ask for your phone.”
This was the only thing about the weekend that didn’t thrill me. No phones. Partly, Nik had explained, it was to ensure privacy for everyone under his roof. And partly it was to ensure that the service subs concentrated onservice, not social media.
I handed it over as requested. Nik had assured me that the phones were monitored for any emergency calls coming in, and Brandon also had the landline number if anything went down while I was incommunicado for the weekend.
The bedroom wasswank. Four-poster bed, red brocade curtains—on both bed and windows—and lush, understated, antique furniture which managed to be comfortable when I tried sitting on things.
There was even a little gift basket with cologne, fruits, Swiss chocolates, and a cute silver buttplug. Nestled in the basket was a white card that said,Welcome to the Household.
Sweet.
Next to the basket was a folded-up piece of thick paper that, when I opened it, showed a map of each floor of the house, all four of them. Interesting, but OTT. How hard could it be to figure out the layout of the place, after all?
And then there was a large envelope stuffed full of information on this Demanding Dom: Elliot Barrington-Thwaite, Earl of Arden.
Hot damn. A rich, DominantEnglish aristocrat? Talk about a fantasy weekend.
I dived into the papers eagerly, but they were so dense with information I ended up skimming. Thirty-eight; Dominant with a preference for service subs; and a photograph of the man that made me bite my lip. Those dark, piercing eyes just about stared through my soul. The guy looked as hot as he did haughty.
A rich, Dominant,gorgeousEnglish aristocrat? I wasextraglad I’d come.
But time was moving fast, and I could read the rest of the dossier in detail later, I figured.
Nik came back to collect me half an hour later, and led me to where the rest of the staff were gathered. My nerves were calmed both by the anonymizing mask and the smiles and soft, friendlyHellosthat greeted me. Like me, they were all dressed in black, and most had red masks covering their faces, except for Chef Henriette, Carlton the butler, and Amelie, the lady’s maid. Those three were also the only permanent members of staff. Everyone else was, like me, a guest—and a sub.
But we weren’tjustguests. We were there to serve, in whatever manner we were directed. Most of the time that would be cleaning, helping with food preparation and serving meals, and other household chores.
Personally, I hoped I could serve in more sexy ways as well. I’d indicated as such on my questionnaires, and I was buzzing with low-key anticipation about meeting this Demanding Dom. Scratch that—this Haughty Hottie.
Most of the staff went back to their tasks once Nik had introduced me to the group at large. Any time I wanted to chill or decompress, Nik told me, I could go back to my bedroom or come down here to the staff area. Dominants were not allowed to set foot in the entire wing of the house where the staff resided. “They won’t, either,” he assures me. “Any guests we have this weekend are fully vetted and personal friends of ours. You’ll know many of them yourself, in fact. Nevertheless, if anyone, at any time, asks you to do something you’re not comfortable with, that’s what the safe words are for. Green forgo ahead, yellow or amber forslow down, and red forstop it right the hell now.”
We’d gone over all this several times already, but I still appreciated the reminder. He grinned at me as I gave a nervous nod.
“Don’t hesitate to use them,” he stressed. “On the other hand, if anyone makes an offer, and you’d like to take them up on it, please feel free to accept—again, with the mandatory safe words understood to apply to all situations, sexual and non-sexual. Now, as to your duties with Lord Arden—”
“LordArden? Really?” I laughed.
“Really,” Nik said, and then frowned. I stopped laughing. “Didn’t you read the information on him that I provided with the welcome basket?”
“I did, totally.” I’d read part of it, trying to find the good stuff: his list of kinks. Except that list had been bare.Available on request, it said, and I didn’t have the stones yet to request it.
