It's Thursday, the day of the funeral, and I stand next to the one I love and now serve, watching the interment of his father in respectful silence. With little more than forty mourners, the service had been intimate and not a lavish affair as expected. Instead, only close family, friends and business partners were invited according to his wishes. The reason why I have been allowed to attend, at my Master's request currently eludes me, and that has left me on edge.
I'd grown to realise over the past couple of uninterrupted days together that my Master is a lonely person, with no genuine friends, apart from James. No-one had called to support him in his grief, and although I'm not supposed to do anything other than carrying out orders, I want to reach out and console him. Yet, under the terms of our relationship, I'm only allowed contact with him during sex, and with my newly pierced cock being off-limits, we haven't been intimate since Monday. I had hoped he'd make allowances for today, so he could lean me.
Keeping my gaze down, maintaining my submissive stance even in public, I notice the others' feet turn as they leave. Quietness comes over us, and I realise we are probably the only ones still here standing at the graveside. Still, patiently I wait knowing he is not ready to leave, despite the threat of rain hovering over us. Their relationship ended badly, with his father not being able to forgive him for the shame he caused, which I'd been an unwitting party to.
With no-one around, my Master's silent, dignified resolve is broken with a sob, and a lump rises in my throat. Unable to bear the torment of watching him deal with this alone any longer, willing to take whatever punishment it may lead to, I brush my fingers against his. It may only be a simple hand to hold, but with relief, his fingers entwine with mine, and we share our first moment of affection in a week.
"Liam," a voice calls out from behind us. "Mother asks that you come back to the house. It's not a request."
Twenty minutes later, my Master pulls up a cobblestone driveway, and we arrive before a red-bricked and stone stately home with a slate roof and stained glass windows. I'm stunned by the sheer magnificence but remain silent despite being relieved of my submissive duties temporarily, and try to not gawp as we enter through the front door.
The instant we enter the drawing-room, the others' polite small talk shifts to murmurs as we grab their attention, zeroing in on my Master's vice-like grip on my wrist. I'd kept my distance during the church service in an attempt to not be recognised, but now my skin prickles in discomfort as I'm led past their outward contempt towards a diminutive woman and two men. With blonde hair and green eyes, there's no doubt that this is my Master's mother, despite never meeting previously. The men beside her, both around their thirties, with dashingly good looks, I assume are his brothers, despite their auburn hair. No introductions are offered.
"Mother..."
"Ah, Liam darling. I see you brought him too. Wonderful. We'll speak in the library," she responds frostily, not even giving me a glance. "Alone for now. Francis, could you show his friend to the refreshments?"
Master's eyes narrow as I'm separated away from him, but I smile encouragingly. Despite my anxiousness at being surrounded by strangers, I know it's for the best. He needs to talk with her freely, without my presence, and hopefully, they can work out a way forward.
On exiting the room, we pass a beautiful, ornate, oak staircase, much grander than the one at my Master's home. As I follow, the matching wood panelling is carried out along the hall and through an intricately decorated doorway to a dining room. Here, an expansive table is laid out with white linen, and fine china with a spread of finger sandwiches, tea, coffee and an assortment of cakes with a hot water dispenser. His brother immediately begins to pour out a coffee which he hands to me before making another.
"Do you love my brother?" Francis suddenly asks, impassively.
"Yes," I respond.
His stony-face breaks with a smile, then he extends his palm out to me, which I shake with reluctance. I don't hold much trust for others, and as I consider his face, I spot the tell-tale signs of when my Master is forcing sincerity. I will need to remain guarded.
"I wish you the best of luck with that miserable sod," he says, clasping me on the shoulder. "He's just like our father. How our mother put up with him all these years, I'll never know."
"Well, I'm glad that I'm able to be cheerful for the both of us then," I laugh before sipping my tea.
"I need to leave and check if anyone needs me, but do you mind waiting here? It's quieter than the drawing-room."
Out of sight, out of mind, I suspect.
"Sure. That would be great," I nod, thankful for the respite it will grant me.
"I'll tell Liam you're here when he's done," he responds, turning away. "And if you are thinking about stealing the silverware, I suggest that you don't. I know where my father's rifle is stored and how to use it."
I'm not entirely sure if he's joking, but I choose to let it slide as he leaves the room. I don't expect him to understand why I love someone like my Master. No doubt they're trying to suss me out, to see if there is any weakness they can exploit to prove whatever they're thinking about me.
Growing bored of the silence, apart from the ticking from the longcase clock in the adjacent hallway as I wait, I wander around the room, studying the portraits hanging on the wall. Everything surrounding me is extravagant and pristine, but it almost appears stifling. Even my own house growing up had pencil markings of my height on the doorframes and doodles I'd left in crayons on the walls. There is no evidence of that here, as if no child ever lived within these rooms. I'd hoped to see some baby photos or embarrassing school ones, but the only images I see are paintings of people long dead. It's a little depressing. There's no homeliness or warmth to be seen.
I'm startled by shrill yelling coming down the hallway, and I turn around to see three young children dash towards the table for food. Instinctively, I find myself moving nearer, uneasy about the hot water I know is on the table, but with relief, I see adults following behind them with older children in tow. With my peace now shattered and feeling shy, I turn towards the fireplace at the other side of the room to drink my coffee, but I'm barged into from behind, and spill it over myself.
Glancing around, I spot a blonde-haired kid with a Nintendo DS glaring up at me as if it's my fault for being in his way. He couldn't be much older than six, although tall, and I nearly laugh as his eyes narrow, reminding me of the way my Master looks at me when I've angered him. A mousy-haired, but comely woman, scarcely older than her mid-twenties rushes over, shooing him away and apologises profusely as she pats at my clothes with a linen napkin.
"I am so, so sorry. I don't know what's getting into Edward recently," she says, appearing flustered as she takes my emptied cup away.
"It's no problem. It's most likely my own fault by not paying attention. Kids are kids at the end of the day," I try to reassure her.
Her blue eyes glance up at me, meet mine, and I recognise a meekness in her as she instantly looks away. Is she someone's submissive? She doesn't appear to be with anyone else here, and there's no wedding band on her finger.
I glance towards where the boy is now, and see him sitting by himself at the windowsill, and not playing with the others. The console isn't open either. Something about him begins to stand out, and it's not just how lonely he seems despite the other children being nearby. That melancholic, faraway expression is one that I've seen too often, and his hair is almost golden as the sunlight filters through the leaded window.
"Are you Liam's partner they're all gossiping about?" she asks, barely audible.
"Yes, I am. Is he Liam's son?" I whisper.
"Yes, but he won't acknowledge him," she says, appearing regretful, as she fidgets with her hands.
He'd never mentioned Edward to me, and he had more than enough chances. I don't understand why he wouldn't let me know about something like this.
"I'll try speaking to him," I respond.
"Speaking to whom?" my Master demands from behind.
"I should leave."
"Yes, Clara, you should. Whatever will your parents think if they see us talking like this?" he says, emanating hostility.
His unreasonable anger sends her out of the room in tears, with Edward remaining in the window seat. It isn't my place to interfere as a submissive, but he has a child, one that he kept concealed from me, and it doesn't sit right that he isn't bothered about spending time with him. He's literally metres away.
"Liam, are you going to spend time with your son today?"
"No, and neither are you. Now I suggest you remain silent like the good little slut you're meant to be and keep the fuck out of my business," he hisses, shoving past me.
Before I can pursue him through the opened doors, out into the garden, my name is barked from across the room, and I turn around stunned to see his mother, beckoning me over. I want to deal with Liam first, and tell him he is acting irrationally, but with hesitation, I follow.
I sit down at an antiquated, leather-top desk minutes later opposite his mother in a room that is evidently the library with bookcases floor to ceiling. Her countenance is formidable now, and the residual, odour of stale cigars surrounding me is offensive and nauseating. I hope that whatever business she has with me doesn't take long, because I just want to get out of here.
Before she even speaks, a cheque is pushed towards me, and instantly I know what she's going to say next as I see the figure written upon it.
"Here is a cheque for ten thousand. It is more than generous given the circumstances. Now please, leave my son and go away."
"What?"
"For this horrible issue to disappear, I'm prepared to give you ten thousand," she says, her mouth twisted into a sneer. "This is enough for you to crawl back to wherever you came from."
I stare at the cheque before me, horrified that anyone could think I'm able to be bought like this. My first impression of my Master's mother being timid had been entirely wrong. I'd thought from the hushed, conversations I'd overheard during the service, that only Liam's father was cold and ruthless, but that doesn't appear to be true. Has he been devoid of love and gentleness his entire life? Is that why he struggles to show affection?
"You're paying me to leave Liam? I refuse."
"I don't think you quite understand your position here. A money-leaching escort like you deserves nothing. Now take it and get out," she says, flipping open a gold cigarette case.
"I'm not an escort..."
"I don't give a fucking shit what you are. You're not the first, and you clearly won't be the last, but you will take the money like all of the others and be grateful."
"I love Liam," I respond, tearing the cheque in two. "I'm done here."
As I shove my chair backwards, she bursts into a cackle of laughter, then opens the drawer to remove a chequebook.
"Perhaps I misjudged you," she says, raising an eyebrow whilst scribbling down a new figure. "You're clearly in it for the long run. One-hundred-thousand. Final offer. Once your looks fade, he'll move on to the next pool boy to look at him sideways. Why don't you save yourself the effort?"
"I cannot be bought off," I respond firmly without hesitation. "I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs Beaufort, but I really need to get going."
I'm seething and shaking a little as I close the door behind me, but I feel like I handled myself well, although my eyes sting as I hold back the threatening tears. Did my Master know she was going to offer me money? Could they be testing to see whether I'm only with him for what he has? I never know with him. Why the fuck can't I just be left alone to be happy?
Am I happy?
It's been such a long time since I've felt complete and utter joy that I'm not even sure I'll recognise it if it smacked me in the face. Clenching my fist, I leave through the first door I find into the garden to find Liam. If we do break up, it won't be for money, and if I do discover he's testing me, I can't guarantee we'll be leaving here as a couple. I'm sick and tired of having to jump through hoops and being scrutinised about not being honest by everyone. My father, Liam, William, James, Selena and now his mother. Even his brother checked me out today, probably at her command. How many fucking times do I need to prove that I'm not trying to use him? And this is on top of finding out he has an illegitimate child he kept hidden and refuses to have anything to do with. Who the fuck doesn't even want to be around their own child? A sociopath perhaps?
I feel like I've been wandering for at least ten minutes mindlessly around the herbaceous borders, not knowing where I'm going. Despite it being late July, it's become eerily overcast, and drizzly. This garden seems endless compared to Liam's, but I spot some tennis courts behind a walled area, so I head in that direction, hoping to reach shelter. There's a pool house somewhere around here, but this whole place is a fucking maze, I'll be lucky if I don't get lost for the rest of the day. Give me a regular, three-bed, semi-detached house with a low maintenance lawn and patio that doesn't need twenty fucking gardeners any day. The pretentiousness makes me sick.
