by Jaye Peaches
Maria had done nothing during the waxing and massage she hadn’t done on previous mornings, and yet, Gemma struggled to contain the emergence of erotic responses. It had dawned on her that Jason’s hands-off approach had been the catalyst. Those cornflower eyes of his had been remorseless. Ever since they had first met, those eyes had pierced her. Even with her own shut, they would be in her mind, lingering in the same way a light bulb’s glow did on the retina. It was as if he could fuck her with those eyes alone. With her lying on the massage table, the strips of wax being whipped off her legs, he had done exactly that, and by the time the waxing had finished, he had left her intensely needy and unfulfilled.
Maria’s firm fingers continued a torture of tactile stimulation. Every time she drifted towards an erogenous area, Gemma squirmed and envisioned sexual images plastered across her consciousness. Enrique’s erotic drawings with their stylised interpretations of her sex life. She dismissed them briskly. Then came Jason, naked and towering over her, ready to use her, or her, suspended from the ceiling, waiting to be turned into his glorified sex toy.
She should have found the experience heavenly and relaxing. Instead, she drifted in a hellish state of arousal and denial. In the back of mind, a voice begged Maria to bury her fingers in Gemma, to stroke or kiss her. Maria wouldn’t, even if Gemma pleaded with her. The problem revealed and planted itself in her mind. She wanted Maria to touch her sexually and intimately.
Except Jason would never permit that. Then Gemma clarified the mental pronouncement.
Jason would never permit Maria to touch me without him being present.
Without him being a spectator.
Without him telling her to do it.
Was she being unfaithful as a wife? The question unnerved her greatly. The two aspects of their relationship, the submissive and loyal wife, were about to come head to head and smash into each other.
Gemma reached out and grasped Maria’s wrist, halting her in mid-movement. “Thank you. That’s sufficient for today.”
She hurriedly dressed and virtually ran away. As she turned to offer gratitude for her services, Gemma couldn’t help but notice the Mexican showed no alarm at her behaviour, in fact, she had a quirky expression on her face.
***
“Señor Lucas.” Maria found Jason alone in his office. “She is in turmoil, Señor. Her body is like electricity under my hands. I can feel the energy. I have felt it many times before in women. You know I have. She stopped me and left before I had finished. The poor woman needs to be put out of her misery.”
“If she wants to be put out of her misery, Maria, she will come to me. I want her completely willing and at ease. I want her to find pleasure and release, not guilt or languish with her insecurities. If she is ready and able, she will beg me. Beg to be used by you and you won’t need to worry. You’ve been patient.”
Maria had been very patient. She didn’t mind. Anticipation made the outcome more satisfying. She craved the opportunities that awaited her and would do as she was told. She always did.
***
Gemma kept up a good pace on the treadmill, accompanied by the high volume on her iPod ear buds. The workout calmed her nerves and focused her thoughts. She had succeeded up to a point and now felt ready to bring her inner befuddled state to a necessary conclusion.
Catching sight of her husband, she switched off the treadmill and wiped her face with her sweat towel. A trickle of perspiration slipped between her breasts. Her Lycra shorts hugged her thighs, and a sheen of warmth covered her sticky face.
“Hi,” she said, pulling out her ear pieces. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
Dressed in his cut-off jeans and a black vest, she found him to be very casual and youthful in appearance. Sexy, too. Every so often, he threw off the mantel of executive and became the playboy illusion she fantasised about.
“Didn’t think this was your favourite room.” He leant on the control panel of the treadmill and traced his finger over the selection buttons.
“All this lounging around and rich food. I’m getting flabby.” She patted her tummy.
“I’m not working you out enough?” He chuckled.
“Certain muscles are very well exercised. My lungs and heart need a steady, fast beat to improve my aerobic capacity. Your workouts are somewhat irregular in pace,” she explained.
“I see. I think you’re hiding from me.” He took her hand. She stepped off the rubber platform, and he drew her to him, pressing his chest against her, his hips, too. “Well?”
She kept her hands to her sides, refusing to participate in the cuddle. “Perhaps.”
She didn’t want this. She wanted to talk, not have sex. “Jason. Can we talk? I mean if I said I wanted to take a break, could we?” She slipped out of his hands, stepping backwards.
“A red kind of break?” His amused expression remained unchanged.
“Yes, I suppose. I want to chat to you, candidly.”
“Sure, darling. Here?”
“No. Let me shower first. I’m sticky and hot. What I want to talk to you about, I don’t think I should be sticky and hot. Under the canopy, with the sea breeze.”
“Okay. I’ll wait for you there.” He glanced a kiss at her cheek and left the gym.
***
They lay side by side on the lounger, staring up at the underside of the white canopy. Her hair lay wet and damp under her head. She had dressed in a long dress—a protective cladding about her body. A sense of foreboding filled her, not fear or dread, more uneasiness.
“Tell me, Jason, tell me what you mean by sharing me. Or not, as the case may be.”
“Time for definitions, is it?”
“Please, don’t mock me. I don’t want to put myself in the predicament of abusing your undeclared rules through ignorance or misinterpretation. You’re a lawyer and very precise with your words. I need to know how precise,” she bit out.
“Sharing what I own, what I possess, is my decision. Not yours. I won’t let you have sex with other Doms, or any man for that matter. It is adultery. Women are, for me, a different matter. You’re not a lesbian. You won’t develop a relationship with a woman that involves loving, romantic intercourse of your own volition. However, it does not stop you from being sexually aroused by another submissive.”
“So, my taking erotic pleasure of a woman is all right?”
Jason pursed his lips and then nodded. “As long as I’m present and it is my pleasure that you do so.”
“You’re saying, you don’t have a problem with me being touched or used by another woman as long as you’re present, give permission, and I consent.”
“More specific than that. I’m in control. I direct and instruct. I have never said I have an issue with you being with others submissives. Consenting submissives. You have always said you are uncomfortable with having sex with women. I respect that limit and will not force or ask you to if you do not give me your consent.”
“Topping. I’m forbidden to top you. If there is another sub present, a participating, consenting sub, would one of us be topping, telling the other what to do?”
“I am the Dominant, the Top. You and any other submissive are my bottoms. If I’m controlling you both, then neither of you would be topping me or each other. You can work it out for yourself.”
Gemma took a deep breath. “I think I’m becoming open to the idea of being with a woman. I’m not sure how far I want to go with the notion of bisexuality. Touched, maybe. Penetrated, I honestly don’t know. I don’t want to be anything other than a submissive, a bottom. Your submissive. Is this a shock to you? Or am I right in thinking your little game of sensual treatments and massages were designed to manipulate me into becoming bi-curious.” She folded her arms across her chest, adopting a firm, slightly peeved stance.
Jason turned on his side and propped up his head on his elbow. “Manipulate you? A harsh word perhaps. Let’s be honest. I’ve created a scenario to enable you to explore your own desires more. I’ve always
thought you had the potential to be versatile. However, your training in that respect was extremely limited. I asked Maria to massage you, and I knew I had been leaving you needy. What was your choice, your own decision, was to remain aroused or lose the sentiment. To let yourself have a simple therapeutic massage and nothing sensual. I gave strict instructions Maria was not to touch you in a way that would stimulate you directly, no clit tickling. Everything that happened in that room, your responses and attitude, was down to you and nobody else.”
“So, if I’d gone stiff as a board and felt nothing, would you be disappointed in me? Consider me a bisexual failure!” Her fingers coiled about her shoulders, hugging herself tighter.
“No! Absolutely not. I have said I wouldn’t make you be something you are not. You wouldn’t have disappointed me or failed in any way. What both of us would know is that you would never accept the presence of another female submissive in our play. Babe, please, you could never disappoint me.”
“Another one of your little tests, then?” She wanted to turn her back on him, hide away in annoyance. She fought hard to stay still.
Jason sighed. “Don’t be angry. It is counter-productive. The treatments served a purpose. They kept you relaxed and very refined in appearance. If you saw them as a test, then so be it. If you hadn’t come to me today with these questions, remained uninterested, you wouldn’t be judging this as a test.”
“Maria has been keeping you informed. Hasn’t she?” snapped Gemma.
“Yes. Because I didn’t want to push you too hard. You may recall, this morning, I didn’t lay a finger on you or say a word. I merely watched. Did you want her to touch you, rather than have me? Should I be offended?”
Gemma sprang up, swivelling to face him, hands on her hips. “Yes, you should! Because it’s about being unfaithful. You finally see this as a husband should. Because, to me, Jason, this is all about our status as husband and wife. I feel like I would be unfaithful to you. You see all this sexual play as only part of our D/s lifestyle. I’m your wife above all else. I’ve been tearing myself up because of these feelings of disloyalty. As a sub, I’m curious and willing. As your wife, I don’t know what to do!” She covered her head with her hands. “Argh!”
“Monogamy. Are we monogamous in our marriage? We are. I’m not proposing I have penetrative sex with another woman. You can choose not to, as well. What we can do is introduce another female submissive into our play. Does that satisfy your concerns about faithfulness and devotion to each other?”
“I suppose so.” She relaxed her shoulders slightly. She wasn’t truly put off by the unfaithful argument.
“To me, adultery is not the issue. Neither of us will be having intercourse or making love in a romantic fashion with another of the opposite sex.”
“You’ve an answer to everything, Jason. You make me feel inadequate and foolish.”
Tears hovered in her eyes, waiting to be shed. She struggled to deal with her indecisive demons. Jason sat up straight and faced her.
“I have an answer because I have thought of the questions. What do I do for a living? I acquire businesses and companies. I ask many questions to determine whether they are suitable, profitable, and match my portfolio and the ethos of what my company represents. I like to be prepared.”
“So, I’m an empty-headed numpty who should have thought this all through on my own. Well, thanks for the confidence-boosting chat!”
He was fast reaching the end of his tether, frustration evident in the narrowing of his lips and the lines forming on his forehead. She had to make a decision soon.
“Will you please stop playing the low self-esteem card? You said at the beginning of this conversation you don’t want to screw up. I call that being conscientious, thoughtful, and respectful of me. Your natural attention to detail and, above all else, your pretty, over-analytical mind going into overdrive. Now, stop bloody thinking, and tell me. Do you or do you not want me to ask Maria to touch your sex, suck your little clit, or whatever else will drive you into oblivion? The choice is yours.”
Gemma made her decision and told him.
They spent the rest of afternoon on the sundeck. The heat had become nearly intolerable. With no breeze coming off the waves, neither wanted to sit in the sun. Jason lay on the lounger, under the canopy, reading a hefty novel. Gemma relaxed at the other end of the sundeck. She sat under two parasols, dressed in her bikini, and listening to music. Sublime made its way past the tip of Italy’s boot, on course to reach its heel by midnight. The view from the port side was of an arid country baking in the early summer heat.
Now and again, Gemma would rise and stand against the railings to admire the view. Content to be on her own. Following their frank conversation, she welcomed the break from Jason. They remained out of D/s play. Jason wanted them to both ruminate on her decision and ensure nothing had been said hastily. He also wanted Gemma to have the opportunity to speak again to Jason, unhindered by roles. So far, Gemma hadn’t considered changing her mind.
Her thoughts drifted to home, in particular to Blythewood House and its gardens. She wondered if her vegetable patch was surviving in her absence. She had left a long list of instructions for the head gardener. The greenhouse would be filled with tomato and cucumber plants, and she hoped if any ripened, he would give them to other estate staff. Gemma couldn’t stand the idea of wasted home-grown produce—her labours of love.
Most of her planned changes to the garden had been accomplished and the newly built summerhouse painted and wired with electricity. Situated at the far end of the garden and looking back up to the house, it created an excellent viewing point. Naturally, Jason had to give her the inaugural act of sex within its walls. Nothing kinky, the pair of them had ended up naked and making love on the floor. Fortunately, she’d had the foresight to have carpets laid.
She missed home and work. Three weeks away was a substantial break. Not being in regular contact with her eclectic mix of friends was challenging, especially the absence of rumours and gossip. Then she thought about her day job. Had her current project been successfully accomplished? Did her colleagues mind her going off for three weeks and leaving all her tasks in their laps? Probably, but they were all too friendly and considerate to moan at her or her boss, Daniel.
Shortly before the evening meal, she received an e-mail from Trudy titled Lucky Cow. Her best friend had drooled over the photos Gemma had taken of the yacht and sent to her. The rest of the missive friend was filled with the latest baby news. Little Tom was doing this and that. Her partner, police officer, Greg, worked hard, often night shifts, which made Tom’s demands hard work. Trudy joked “don’t do it!” in reference to her planned conception.
Nursing an empty womb, she didn’t agree with the sentiment. In any case, Gemma knew her wealth would bring a different kind of motherhood. There would be a nanny to help take care of the child. Not a live-in kind. Jason had frowned at the idea, too intrusive on their private lives.
“What about the lair, Jason?” Gemma had wondered, one evening, back at home, about whether they would use his dungeon if children came into the lives.
“I’m going to have a decent baby monitor system wired into the room, or we’ll go to the club. Silly girl.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t fret. If the child doesn’t settle well at night, you’re not going to be interested in exerting yourself. You’ll probably be grateful for the sleep.”
“And you?” she had asked cautiously.
“I’ve said before I will wait for you.” He had kissed her on the lips. “I love you, babe.”
One of many conversations discussing how having a child might change their lives. He hinted she would be made to be submissive in a non-sexual way to make up for the disruption a baby would bring to their nightlife. That way, he could satisfy his need to control her while maintaining her obedience.
“In what way?” she had asked.
“I don’t know. I might develop a suitable fetish, or perhaps you will be required to write or p
aint for me. Put your creative mind to good use.”
“I don’t know why you call me creative,” she had retorted. “You’re the one with all the innovative ideas for humiliating me.”
“My creativity is inspired by you, darling. You’re a deliciously erotic canvas for me. We’re both painters. You paint pictures of what you see about you. I paint your life.”
Gemma had to agree—she was his work of art. However, Enrique was also developing a portfolio of her, and the thought unnerved her from time to time.
Chapter 24. Versatility
At nine o’clock, Gemma peeled off her protective dress and removed her frilly lingerie. In the absence of Maria, she fumbled with her hair. With shaking hands, she fashioned a ponytail. One last fidget as she settled on the rug at the foot of his armchair. Jason’s armchair.
They hadn’t had sex since the previous day. They both needed the break. Whether she was ready for him again was a different matter.
He approached from behind, a familiar path, and flicked her ponytail. Taking his seat opposite her, Gemma noticed he had stripped down to his underpants. She waited for him to speak, taking air in through her nostrils, hoping to calm the raging nerves.
“Lessons, Gemma. Treat this as educational. No impact play, bondage, or toys. A simple training session. You’re going to find out about yourself tonight, and I don’t want your mind clouded. Listen to what I tell you to do. Are you ready?” His magnificent controlling voice filled the space between them, placating her nerves, reassuring and unquestionable.
“Yes, Sir.”
Am I?
Enrique and a naked Maria had appeared. Jason glanced over to him and nodded. Enrique spoke to Maria in Spanish, and she came over, kneeling by Jason’s chair. Permission had been given—another submissive for Jason to control.
“Gemma. I want you to lean back, rest on your hands. Keep your legs apart, tip your head back. Good. Spread those knees wide. Maria, use your mouth. Make her come for me.”
