Would they?
She turned and went quickly to her bedroom. They lived in a bungalow so it was only two doors from the kitchen. Once inside she could still smell the onions and the ginger but the quiet and the dim light gave her time and space to think.
‘Heat you up from the inside.’
Cassandra wasn’t naïve, she knew full well that the root would be like having Tabasco sauce on her asshole. Ginger was hot, spicy—it would make her burn. If she touched her eyes after chopping it, then they stung like hell. She’d made that mistake once before and the sensation had been akin to chili.
All she could do now was hope that her Master knew what he was doing. That he’d researched this evening’s entertainment thoroughly.
Of course he has.
She trusted him entirely. Sir would never do anything to give her bad pain. The ginger would likely feel incredible. It would send her soaring into ecstasy and he’d probably fuck her mouth or her pussy while it was inserted.
Oh yes, that sounded good. More than good. That sounded like something well worth looking forward to.
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 a Simpsons beer 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.”
“Er, no. Dessert is cheesecake.” Cassandra smiled and reached for the corkscrew.
“Mmm, I can smell ginger too,” James said. “Nice.”
“White okay?” Cassandra asked, pulling the cork on a bottle of chardonnay. White was Sarah’s favorite.
“Lovely,” Sarah said. “Oh, there’s the ginger.” She pointed to the windowsill behind James.
“Oh yes,” he said, turning. “That’s what I can smell.”
As Cassandra poured Sarah’s glass of wine, James picked up the carefully carved root.
He held it aloft and studied it. But he didn’t hold it from the base, he held it from the tip, the insertion end.
Cassandra felt her stomach tense, her chest tighten. Fuck. Would he recognize the shape? No, surely not. He was holding it inverted, upside down.
But she had no idea what Sarah and James were into. She’d worked with Sarah for the last year and they got on well… But not well enough to divulge sexual preferences and kinks. Maybe an upside-down butt plug shape would be easily identifiable, maybe…
“Love, I think that will keep Sarah going for now.” Sir was behind her, holding her arm and stopping the flow of wine.
Cassandra glanced at the crystal wine glass. It was a hair’s breadth away from overflowing.
“Whoops.” She passed the wine to Sir, grateful that he’d saved her from making a mess.
“Here you are, Sarah,” he said, passing the full glass her way. “How are you?”
“Very well, Raif,” Sarah said, offering her cheek for a kiss.
Cassandra watched as her Master gave Sarah a polite peck. She didn’t like it. Not one bit.
His lips were hers, every bit as much as hers were his. But it wouldn’t do to harbor those thoughts. That was the kind of thing that festered and he’d told her not to let jealousy raise its head in their relationship, there was no need or room for it.
She turned away, only to be greeted once more with the sight of James studying the ginger root.
James frowned, glanced at her then at Raif.
Has he guessed?
“Apparently, ginger is very easy to grow in the garden,” Sir said, taking the root from James and setting it back on the saucer. “And it’s planted peeled.”
“Really?” Sarah said, taking a careful sip of wine. “How interesting. I never would have guessed.”
Sir smiled at her. “Yes. I thought I’d give it a try and see how it goes.”
Cassandra fidgeted with hair and her ass clenched at the thought of where it was going to get planted later.