Page 3 of Spicing It Up

She plucked the red dress from the wardrobe and slipped into it. She didn’t wear knickers—that was always forbidden in the house—but she did add a bra to hold her ample breasts in place—the dress was low and it wouldn’t do to show too much flesh to a male guest.

Sir wouldn’t like that. She was his.

Which was how it should be.?Cassandra sat at the dressing table and began to pin her hair high. She tried to do it neatly, but the heaviest strands always won the battle and the result was a casual updo that had several tendrils hoping to break free and two that had, down her nape.

She found the new earrings, shaped like small hearts, and slipped them in. After a slick of lipstick and a squirt of flowery perfume, she was ready.

“Oh my, Cass,” Sir said when she walked into the dining room. “You look simply stunning.”

A flush of heat warmed her cheeks. “Thank you, Sir.” She adored his approving look, it made her heart swell with love.

He rested down the last of the dessertspoons on the perfectly set table and came toward her. “Your beauty blows my mind,” he said quietly. “I’m so happy that you’re mine.”

“Yes, I’m yours. Always, Sir.”

He set a very soft kiss on her lips. Sometimes he liked smudging her lipstick, sending it all around her mouth so she appeared bruised and battered by his fingers or his lips, but not now. Now it was a kiss as gentle as the brush of kitten’s whiskers.

Ding-dong.

“Ah,” he said, pulling back. “That will be our guests. Let them in while I quickly change my shirt.” He pointed to yet another smear of butter, this time on the material over his belly from where he’d held the pudding bowl as he’d mixed.

“Of course, Sir. I’ll get everyone drinks, shall I?”

“Good idea.”

She had one last check of her dress, brushed away a piece of lint, then answered the door. “Sarah, James, how are you?”

“Fine. Thank you for inviting us.” Sarah stepped in and pressed a quick kiss to Cassandra’s left cheek.

“Here,” James said, handing over a bottle of red wine. “A little something.”

“Oh, rioja, that’s Raif’s favorite.”

“Great.” James shrugged out of his jacket.

Cassandra hung it on a peg then took Sarah’s and did the same.

“Is he here?” James asked. “Not out at work, surely?”

“No, not at all, he’s not on call this weekend. He’ll be here in a minute.” Cassandra gestured to the kitchen. “Let me get you both a drink.”

“It smells wonderful,” Sarah said, her high heels clipping on the wooden floor.

“Oh, it’s nothing fancy,” Cassandra said with a shrug. “You know Raif, he likes his meat, so it’s steak for main.”

“Perfect,” James said, rubbing his hands together and leaning against the counter next to the windowsill.

“Red or white, or would you prefer a beer?” Cassandra asked, trying not to look at the butt-plug shaped ginger root right behind James.

“I might start with a beer,” James said, smiling. “If that’s okay?”

“Of course.” Cassandra went to the fridge and reached for a beer. They were on one of the lowest shelves and she was careful not to bend over too far this time. James would get a shock if he received the view Sir had earlier.

She straightened and used aSimpsonsbeer opener to pop the lid. “Here.”

“Thanks.” James grinned and took a sip.

“I can smell ginger,” Sarah said, sniffing the air. “Have you made gingerbread men? She giggled. “I love them.”

---