“He used to be different,” Daniel says after a moment. He glances over his shoulder and drops his voice. “Has he talked to you about…” There’s a long pause before he says, “Martin?”
“Martin?” I repeat.
“Oh. He hasn’t.”
“Who’s Martin?” I speak a little too loudly, because Chef Henriette overhears.
“No gossip,” she says firmly. “One strike, Daniel. Oliver, you should know better by now as well, but I’ll let it slide. Back to work.”
“Yes, Chef,” we chorus. I suspect Chef Henriette is following some kind of unspoken protocol in not giving me a strike when I deserve one. Maybe she doesn’t want to step on Lord Arden’s toes?
Butdamnhas Daniel piqued my curiosity. I wish I’d Googled Lord Arden before I came back into the household, but it’s become a sort of internal taboo that I don’t want to break.
Still…who the hell is this mysterious Martin?
* * *
After dinner, during which I once more managenotto dump anything on anyone, we all file into the lounge room and line up, just like last weekend. But this time, Zee picks outmycard first.
“I almost dread to ask,” she begins, with a glance at the back of the room, but Lord Arden is already moving forward.
“Then let me forestall you,” he says, but he actually smiles when he says it. “I would prefer to see to Oliver’s punishments myself tonight, just as I did last week.”
Zee shakes her head, but it’s amusement, not refusal. She glances at me. “Oliver?”
I wonder what would happen if I said no. If I demanded to be punished here in front of everyone. I used to think that was hot, public punishment, especially with a few verbal humiliations thrown in. I’ve experienced that countless times at the clubs, and I thought I liked it. Ididlike it.
At the time.
Right now, I can’t think of anything more delicious than spending my last night here in private with Lord Arden and his punishments.
Everyone’s waiting for my response. I take a step forward out of line. “As my lord desires,” I say with a grin. I keep it light, like Zee and Lord Arden, but inside, I’m a bundle of nerves and hopes and expectations.
“Very well,” Zee sighs, and gives me a nod. “Goodnight, Lord Arden. Goodnight Oliver.”
The whole room repeats it after her, as I follow Lord Arden out of the room toward the nearest staircase.
He extends his hand for me to take as we go upstairs, but he doesn’t even glance back at me. That just makes me feel even hotter for him.
* * *
“You are very lovely to look at, Oliver,” Lord Arden sighs as I strip off.
“Thank you, my lord.”
He takes his time positioning me tonight, his hands warm and firm as they arrange my body to his satisfaction. In fact, he’s so exacting, so precise, that I start to wonder if it’s just an excuse to touch me. The idea zings through me, making my muscles tense up, and Lord Arden—who has his hand on my inner thigh as he keeps moving them apart a fraction more—pauses.
“Is everything alright, Oliver?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“We are still green?”
“Very much green, my lord.” It comes out strangled. Surely he can’t not notice the effect he’s having on me? I’m naked, after all. My dick is filling out and, even though I’m bent over at the waist, he has a pretty good view from behind.
The backs of his fingers, as he moves me, brush against my balls.
“Did you say something, Oliver?”
