A warm Friday night in Spring, where they both have the whole weekend off (yes, really)!
Jamie walked quietly upstairs to put his plan in action. He gathered the collar, leash, padded handcuffs and stretcher bar and set them all on the dresser under a towel. He changed his clothes and wondered how Claire would react to his new outfit. How would she react to his plan? He opened the door and called down to her,
"Mo chridhe (my heart), do ye have some time for me? I'm in the bedroom."
"I'll be right up, love," she shouted up the stairs. She finished wiping up the kitchen counter and walked upstairs to their room, wondering what Jamie wanted.
She opened the door and gasped, seeing flickering candles around the room, and small vases of fragrant sterling silver roses* peppering every surface, as well as petals freshly strewn on the bed, which was bare except for warm ivory Portuguese-flannel sheets and their pillows. There was a towel draped over some lumpy looking objects on the dresser and next to them was a bottle of whisky and two glasses.
"Jamie? Where are you, love?" Claire called softly.
"Right behind you, Sassenach. Turn around, woman," Jamie commanded.
Claire sucked in a breath at his tone, which brooked no dissent. She turned around slowly and felt herself get wet at the feast before her eager eyes. Jamie stood before her, supple midnight-black leather pants accentuating his powerful legs, feet bare. He wore an unbuttoned white silk shirt that reflected his light summer tan and the sea-blue beauty of his eyes. The candlelight danced on his auburn curls, making Ms. Beauchamp more than a little weak in the knees. Claire could see his abdominal muscles, so well-defined and inviting. She took a cleansing breath and swallowed heavily. He'd gotten a haircut that morning, and his curly hair no longer touched his collar. His curls perfectly accentuated his chiseled jaw and high Viking cheekbones. He was breathtaking, and Claire licked her lips and started to step forward, a smile on her sensuous mouth.
"No, Sassenach. Return to where you were standing. Now."
Claire raised an eyebrow and her mouth fell open, surprised.
Collecting herself, she questioned the tall man before her. "What's going on, Jamie? What is this?" Her eyebrows drew together in confusion.
"Remember last week when I agreed to let ye dominate me? I want to do that for ye tonight, a leannan (sweetheart). If ye agree, yer safe word will be "Oxford." I will guide ye and take my pleasure from ye. I will control yer orgasms. I will use ye as I see fit and ye willna speak unless I give ye permission. As with last week, there will be no backtalk. My commands must be obeyed immediately. Failure to comply will result in punishment. I can give you time to think this over, if ye like. I'll leave and ye can call me when ye're ready with whatever ye decide. What say ye, lass?
Claire straightened her back and said, "I accept. Let's do this, love."
Jamie strode to stand in front of her and tipped her chin up.
"Look at me." Claire gulped and looked up into the eyes of the man she loved more than anyone.
"You will address me as Master, nothing else. If you slip up, ye'll pay for it. Do ye understand?"
Claire's mouth went dry and she whispered hoarsely, "Yes, Master." As the words floated heavy in the air, she felt her pussy muscles ripple and whined.
"Did yer pussy clench when you called me Master, lass?"
"Yes, Master," Claire ground out.
"That's my dirty, naughty lass, such a good girl." Jamie smiled gently at her, aware of how these words and his temporary title, in particular, affected the woman who kept his own heart beating.
Claire blushed ten shades of red and felt more moisture drip slowly from her slit.
"Strip and face the wall over there. Put your hair up in this elastic so it's out of your face." Jamie handed her a hair tie.
"As you say, Master." Claire took her clothes off, folding them neatly and then pulled her hair into the elastic. She stepped noiselessly to the wall and stood in front of it as directed.