Guest Author: Raven McAllan

Number Six, Silk Street might look like any other house in the road. But this is Regency London…behind the front door is something very unexpected, unless you’re in the know, and need its contents.
Silver Silk Ties
Araminta knew what she wanted, and being left on her wedding night was not it. Finding her husband in the notorious house on Silk Street, she hoped her luck had changed. Perhaps this would not be the marriage of convenience she feared. If only she could persuade him that she was indeed the sub he needed.
Meeting his new wife at the one place all deep dark desires could be satisfied, Felton wondered if he had been mistaken? Was this a marriage of mutual passion and ideals? Would she truly obey? There was only one way to find out, test her submission.
Left alone, she tried to calm her quivering body, and took several deep breaths. The gown was a soft slither of silk, deep blue, the color of the finest sapphires with a sheen of a peacock’s wing. She slipped it on, savoring the way it embraced her body.
Hanging from a hook on the wall, next to a mirror unseen unless you were behind the screen, was a hairbrush. With swift, economical movements she drew it though her long tresses and winced at the pain as she untangled knots. There, she was ready. As she went to replace the brush, she saw the parchment fixed to the wall. ‘Bring it with you.’ Who was that meant for?, Ara decided she may as well begin to remember her chosen role. Ara slipped it into a deep pocket in the robe and began to walk to the door she had yet to access. Stopping, she turned on her heels and went back behind the screen to lift the parchment, fold it and place it next to the hairbrush in her pocket. Now she was ready.
Felton looked up as she entered the room. The fire glowed, the coals settled and not sparking.
“Join me here.” He indicated the seat next to him on a long day bed. She noticed he was also wearing a robe. His was a dark maroon. It scarcely covered him as he sat sprawled in studied insolence, masculinity personified.
Obediently, she walked across the oriental-patterned carpet and sat next to him, the skirt of her robe wrapping across her knees.
Felton handed her a goblet. Its golden-pink contents bubbled and fizzed. He must have noticed her quizzical expression for he chuckled. “I have relations who survived the Corsican and prospered. This wine is the wine of the future of France. At present they are able to bottle and store very little, but as times change and methods improve, it will become the king of wines.”
Ara took a sip. The bubbles teased her nose and she sneezed. “Sweetish, and I taste summer,” she said. She took another cautious sip. “I like it.”
“Good.” He took the glass from her hands and set it down on a table. “So now, we talk.” It was not a question. “Honesty and truth now, Ara. We hold on to nothing. Between us we must be open and true. If we admit and disclose everything now, we will be free to move on together. What say you?”
“I say yes, my lord.” His face relaxed, and Ara’s cunt did the opposite. How could he make her want to plead for him to take her? To show her paradise once more? All with one relaxed, open look.
“So, I will start. Will you go to the set of drawers over there?” He pointed to a cupboard commonly called an elbow chest. “Inside is a box. Bring it to me, set it on the floor between us, and seat yourself again.”
Puzzled, but interested, Ara rose and tightened the belt on her robe. Silk was not known for holding a lose tie, and in her eagerness to join him, she had not secured the ends tightly.
“No, leave it. If it loosens, it is your fault. And I am desirous of seeing all of you, my wife.”
 Ah, well, if he puts it like that. Ara walked slowly to the furniture he had mentioned, and opened the cupboard on one side. The box was not overlarge. Big enough for her to have difficulty maneuvering it through the aperture and onto the floor. As she bent to lift it, the belt, which had been slipping away from its mooring with each movement she made, fell apart and her robe gaped. She shrugged mentally. If he demanded her not to retie it, she wouldn’t.
“Slip it off, Ara. It will hinder you otherwise. As you will spend most of our time together naked, you may as well start now.”
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