And waited.

And waited.

Downstairs, I could hear laughter and talking, gradually becoming more and more raucous. Evidently, my Master and Nadia intended to finish their wine before retreating to the bedroom. I felt foolish, suddenly aware that far from being invited to join them in a pleasurable evening, I had been banished to bed like a child while the adults played on into the night.

It was some hours later, gone midnight, when I heard a heavy tread on the stairs and realised they were finally coming to bed. I had been dozing fitfully, any sense of excitement I had felt now completely dissipated, and I lay rigid as my Master switched on the meagre bedside light and entered. Nadia followed, a tipsy smile on her face, her hand stroking the small of my Master's back.

"There she is, all tucked up in bed, the little poppet," she said. "Are you alright, little Harriet?"

No I wasn't. I was left out, humilated, shamed in my own house, banished to bed while my Master and his guest had fun downstairs without me.

"Yes, thank you, Mistress," I said.

Nadia took my Master's hand and swung him round to face her. She planted her mouth on his and kissed him passionately, her hand clasped to his neck, pulling him close to her. He responded instantly, pulling her into a tight embrace, his hand chasing up and down her spine. I watched enviously as the lovers explored one another, slowly undressing, stroking their fingers against bared skin, kissing, caressing. My Master peeled off Nadia's bra and unclasped it, revealing her olive breasts, full and round with dark, dramatic nipples. I breathed in sharply as I observed how beautiful they were, how like a goddess she looked in the dappled half-light of the night. My Master was completely naked, his body, so fine, so fit, flickering in the shadows, the outline of his semi-rigid cock pointing animatedly towards Nadia, towards his new lover. He sat on the edge of the bed and grappled with Nadia's trousers, unbuttoning them and peeling them down her thighs, her legs, to her ankles and slipping them off.

She may have been a few years older than me but she was in wonderful shape, her stomach firm and taut, her thighs lithe, her whole body irresistable. My Master bent forward and kissed her belly button, his hands placed delicately on her hips. They tumbled onto the bed and dragged the blanket over them. I scooted over to the edge of the bed and lay quietly, my left flank exposed as the blanket was tugged away from me by the rutting couple. They rolled about for some minutes, kissing loudly and passionately, their hands exploring, bodies hot and sweating, while I lay mutely, listening jealously.

I was becoming quite upset. Not only had I been despatched upstairs for the evening while my Master and my old friend Nadia caroused downstairs, but the final ignominy now appeared to be that they were about to have sex with me lying chastely beside them, feeling every movement, hearing every gasp. I was sobbing silently by now, miserable and alone.

I was surprised, then, to feel my Master's hand on my stomach. He laid it there gently, his thumb stroking up and down my downy skin, and immediately a glow of warmth and gratitude swept through me. That I could be satisfied by such a miniscule act should have horrified me, but it was true, I was grateful for this crumb of solace. Nadia was on top of my Master, astride him, her breasts dangling in front of his face as he sucked solicitously on her erect nipples, but all the while his hand stroked up and down my body, finally reaching my almost shaved bush and, down below, onto my pussy. He rested his middle finger between my lips, the other fingers scratching and roaming across them, exciting them, drawing blood into them, making them swell. Pressing his finger, he eased it between my lips into my slit, feeling the warmth and wetness that he had aroused, smearing the finger with my juices and stroking it up and down, up and down.

I moaned as my Master slipped upwards and riffled his fingers around my clitoris, raking a nail across the hood and, in so doing, lancing a burst of pained pleasure through my body. Nadia heard it and looked over, becoming aware, for the first time, I think, of what my Master was doing with his hand. She kissed him on the mouth and smiled.

"How is the little dear?"

"Nicely excited," my Master replied, thrusting a finger deep inside me for an instant to give emphasis to his words. I felt a hand, hot and firm, on my breast and knew it was Nadia. It felt peculiar, being fondled in this way by an old friend, by someone I had looked up to, trusted like an older sister. She cupped my breast and squeezed it, drawing away so that it slipped through her fingers until only my nipple was gripped by her thumb and forefinger. She rotated it gently, tweaking and squeezing, her nail digging into my sensitive flesh.

"Very small tits," she said, "but lovely. Nice and firm, beautiful skin." Once more I had to sit and listen to an intimate discussion of my private parts as my Master continued to stroke my pussy and Nadia to squeeze my breast. The strangeness of the moment was overwhelming, and I was trembling with anticipation. At last I was being drawn into the action, and I felt such an overwhelming sense of joy to finally be included that I was willing to forgive anything. I knew I was going to be used, knew that my purpose was not to gain satisfaction for myself, but to ensure that my Master and Mistress attained it, but I was happy in the knowledge that this was to be my role. I was happy to serve.

"Now," said Nadia, "I want to see how she uses that tongue."