by Jaye Peaches
“Go on. You’re safe here,” Jason’s voice covered up the other one whom sometimes visited me.
“I felt like I was drowning. I came to his for a regular night together. He was really pissed at me. I don’t know why, I still don’t know why. I don’t remember the details well. But he was my master so I accept it. He takes me to the garage – that’s where we did the stuff. It looks nothing like your lair. I should have spotted the warning signs: the tatty furniture and lack of hygiene. I was lucky he didn’t make me ill.” My heart was pounding thumping.
“Keep going, babe,” Jason’s tone was so reassuring.
I shut my eyes. The memories were growing colourful and vivid.
“He ties me over this…. his wooden sawhorse bench, no padding on it or anything. He has a cane… not the usual thin one…. it’s thick like a rattan cane. He had modified it by winding wire around it.” My vision blurred and refused to focus, in its place I heard sounds. “Heavy too, I can hear him swish in the air. It hurt so much. I knew, after the first two, I was going to safe-word him if he continued to hit me. His actions… were intentional. He knew how to hurt as much as how to please. Two more and I screamed the word out.”
I ground to a halt with my recollection. I knew the tears were coming; the barricade, which held them back, was failing.
“He ignored it”. I looked at Jason and his face was impassive, unreadable. “He runs at me with the cane, a full sweep and it strikes me so hard I know I’m cut. Then I fainted. When I come to, he’s standing there. He’s holding his, his...”
“I know, gone on you’re almost done.”
“It’s limp. It wasn’t when he was caning me. Then I sense that burning sensation inside me. My bum was on fire with pain, but I know there was another soreness, deep within. He’s looking really pleased with himself. He tells me,” My voice broke. “That I was a fantastic fuck,” I collapsed in sobs.
Jason was there now holding me in his arms, as I racked my body with uncontrollable tears. He held me, not too tight and stroked my hair.
“Gemma, Gemma, it’s alright. Look at me,” he took me gently by my arms, kneeling in front of me.
“I would never, never, hurt you like that ever,” his voice was decisive and direct. I believed him utterly. “They were the scars I saw, the thin white ones?”
I nodded in acknowledgement. My mouth was bitter and dry.
“Did he let you go then?”
“Later, though he didn’t touch me again. He had been too drunk, busy celebrating his conquest and he was full of triumph over my punishment....”
Jason stopped my mouth with his finger, stroking my face with his palms.
“No, not punishment. I don’t want you to think what he did was a punishment. Punishments don’t mean breaking your agreed limits. Punishments are not done in the heat of emotion or aggression. Punishment is agreed to by both parties and they don’t result in serious injuries. Nothing you described isn’t anything other than abuse, non-consensual. A criminal offence. Yes? OK?” he said clearly.
“Yes I know,” saying it let all the tension out of me.
The sobs were drying up now. “I went home and was really sick. A friend came by and she was concerned, but I wouldn’t go to hospital. She asked about and this other sub came to see me, I recognised her face. Turned out she was a doctor. She was very kind, cleaned me up and gave me antibiotics. She said it would scar because it had gone deep and that I would need to keep still if it was to heal properly. I couldn’t face work. I couldn’t sit for fuck’s sake. So I resigned. The doctor came back and checked on me regular, and said I should get counselling, but I told myself I was going to be fine. That my experience was bad luck. You know, a bad apple in amongst the good ones. She did tests and reassured me that I wasn’t carrying anything unpleasant from my time with him. He was my last fuck, so I knew I was clean for you.”
Jason stroked his finger down my face. “You’re very conscientious,” he said kindly.
“Then you came along.” I hugged my knees, relieved the secret was all out in the open.
“You don’t know how many times I trekked down past that damn photocopier waiting to catch you in the flesh. Then there you were, helping me out. Bending over fiddling with things, I could have fucked you there and then. You are a sexy thing, you know that don’t you? I knew you had had a bad time, not the details. What was his name, the man who hurt you?”
I told him. I think I could guess what Jason would do with that information.
“Earlier in the week, when you….”
“Freaked out in the street?” I said.
He had remembered.
“I thought I saw him. I panicked for a moment and then it wasn’t him,” I explained.
“Sure?”
“Definitely. From the back they were similar, but the faces were totally different.”
“You think he might come after you?”
“He doesn’t know where I live or work,” I replied.
I fidgeted on my seat. There was no reason to think he would seek me out. However, I did not know much about him save he was an ex-soldier. Jason was watching me as he contemplated my words and at the same time his finger ran along his lower lip. I had not answered his question.
“It was just a crazy case of mistaken identity. Why would he seek me out and risk me changing my mind about the police.”
“That still stands? Not going to the police?”
I nodded. “The physical evidence is gone. It would be his word against mine and hell, I don’t want to have to explain the kink. My parents would find out if it went to court.”
I needed to change the subject. A new future beckoned and I wanted to know Jason’s intentions towards me. “Why did you chose me? Now we’re being honest. What about that concert ticket?”
“I wanted you the moment you mentioned that concert. I like your musical tastes, as they’re similar to mine. Your respectfulness. I like it when you are deferential to me and think to please me. Your confidence in your work, being submissive hasn’t stopped you achieving professionally. You’ve tried to work to overcome your problems and you don’t let your private life interfere with your career. It all set me alight. But I knew I had to persuade you back into having sex, so I went for traditional vanilla approach. Has it worked?” Jason raised his eyebrows at me and leaned forward.
“Yes, Jason, you’ve worked your magic on me... I am on the way to being healed,” I spoke softly.
“Can you go back in there and trust again? I’m not a therapist, this isn’t about treatment. I simply want to help you be a successful sexual submissive again. If you want counselling it can be arranged for you.”
He wanted me as his submissive! I could not take the request in and yet I knew I wanted him above all else. My job was inconsequential and my own wishes were denigrated by incredibly lustful, ridiculous thoughts of what being a submissive was to me. To be given the opportunity to please a man and give myself to him, to hand over control and be answerable only to him and nobody else. I wanted his energy flowing through me and finding my connection to him was my way forward.
“I’m coming to terms with my abuse. I don’t want therapy. You’ve made me come alive again. I trust you implicitly, Jason. I think you’re a good man. I would offer myself to you if it pleases you.”
He gave me a truly handsome smile and he clapped his hands in delight. “Yes, that’s my girl.”
I climbed on to his lap and we were kissing gently, like childhood sweethearts. “Where do we go from here?” I asked him.
“I thought we’d start out slowly. Communication is going to be key. You mustn’t let me treat you beyond what you feel capable of achieving. First though we need to discuss soft and hard limits and expectations. As your dominant, I have requirements and I should respect your limits in conjunction with them. I take it caning is out?”
“Probably for the time being,” I concurred, “definitely a hard limit -
the thick hard ones.”
“I won’t use them anyway.” Jason ran his fingers up and down my back. “I have a list somewhere. You can tick off what you do and don’t do, that way I can hold it in my memory better that way.”
“Whatever sir wishes” I beamed at him. “What do expect from me?”
“Blind obedience and your body,” he murmured.
I tingled inside.
He continued. “Weekends, well most weekends, we do have families to visit from time to time, plus boring functions I have to attend, you will be my most obedient wench. In my lair, as you call it, you will be naked at all times in there, unless I think of something for you to wear. Out here, well we can be equitable, have fun around the house, no doubt. I’m not into total power exchange with the trappings of master-slave dynamics and you don’t come across as the slave type anyway. Nor do I do age-play or fantasy playing of any kind. I will only ever be myself with you. I have to work long hours and this is about relaxing and pleasure for me. However, I do expect the appropriate submissive behaviour from you when it is called for. You will learn my habits and you in return will be, shall we say, rewarded.”
Rewards were always a big bonus and I was easily sold on Jason’s rewards. However, I should not require incentives to be his submissive as it rather invalidated the concept of submission to need something in return. There should be no tit-for-tat approach to pleasing him. That said, if he was offering, I was not going to refuse, probably because I was far from being the perfect submissive. I craved his enticement, his indulgences.
“Sounds good to me,” I gave him an encouraging response. “How should I address you?” Etiquette and deportment were often important to doms.
“Sir, when we are in play. When we have become more familiar with each other’s roles, then you may call me master,” he said dryly.
I was happy with that. What would he call me? I did not ask. I would enjoy the anticipation of waiting to find out.
“You sleep with me. I don’t do separate beds. I enjoy your company. I also like vanilla with you, it has been an eye-opener,” he grinned with satisfaction. His fingers were now on my thigh, twirling around closer and closer.
“What about my work?”
“Ah work, well there’s the hub of the problem. I have to set standards and like I said before, I don’t have relationships with employees. Well definitely not permanent ones,” he pondered for a minute.
“I don’t want to fire you or force you out of a job. Let’s give this arrangement a few weeks to try out. If it goes well, you could resign your contract and I will help you find a good post somewhere else. Discretion is key, no hanky panky or I will have to fire your fucked arse. Seriously, I trust you to be discreet and not draw attention to our relationship. If you do, at best I’ll punish you, at worst you’ll be released from our agreement.”
“Yes, boss!” I saluted with my hand but underneath my confident veneer, his words had unnerved me. I did not want to contemplate being shunned by him - we had only just begun our journey together. Then I hesitated, thinking about the future.
“What?” Impatient boss was back.
“You said long-term relationship, what did you mean?”
“I’m keen on you, Gemma. If all this works out, then you could be more than my sometime sub.”
He ran a finger along one of my fingers. My heart skipped a beat. It was my ring finger, except there was no ring on it. I gawped at him in obvious delight.
“Don’t get carried away, we’ve got a long way to go in the getting to know you stakes, haven’t we? Compatibility and everything. There will be some basic protocols to follow, most only apply in the lair. So let me fetch my list of limits.” He lifted me off his lap and headed to his desk drawers.
The evening descended fast, night-time had arrived and Jason ran his finger down the lengthy list one last time.
“That looks good, we’re clear about everything?” he had been very business-like through the whole limits process.
I had taken on a different persona for him, my sassy and self-assured one. She knew what she liked and had the experience to keep her advantage in the conversation. When it came to dictating my tastes, preferences and limits, he had no say in the matter. As a good dominant he listened, questioned and acknowledged what he heard. Once all was agreed he was in charge and I would let him do as he wished. I created the a la carte menu - he would pick the dishes.
I thought, in hindsight, he liked my bolshie approach. He certainly smiled a great deal during the proceedings.
I had told him absolutely no piercing, bloodletting nor electric play. Public humiliation was a no for me too. “I assume privacy is important to you, Jason,” I had pointed out.
He had smiled wryly. “Depends on your definition of public,” and he left his enigmatic remark at that.
I curled my legs up underneath my feet and we moved on.
“Nettles?” he had asked, eyebrows raised.
“They make a nice soup I believe,” I replied impertinently.
“Ah, bloody, ah!”
“Well I sat on some for a few minutes once,” I recollected with a grimace.
“And?”
“It fucking hurt, what do you think, that’s what,” I paused. “I could try again,” I ventured with a grin.
“Good,” he was pleased with that response.
“Why the keenness?”
“Very useful for training subs who like to masturbate without permission,” he smirked.
“I will endeavour to avoid that then,” I retorted.
“The training or the masturbation?” he queried twirling the pen through his long fingers.
“Both perhaps,” I teased.
“I wouldn’t have thought you needed the training, a good quality sub like yourself.”
I was not sure if that was a genuine compliment. Face back to impassive. Damn, he gave nothing sometimes.
“Who knows, you're rapidly over stimulating my senses as we speak.” That last comment was true, I was seriously struggling down below.
Pen poised. “In that case, moving on. Menthol?”
“Fuck no! Can we draw a line under irritants? My experience of chemical play is limited and I don’t want to go there with you until we’re more familiar with each other. Your predecessors weren’t that experienced or capable.”
We discussed bondage, something I was more familiar with and happy to explore with him.
“Generally I liked pretty much anything. Apart from hanging upside down. No batman.” I really could not cope with the blood rushing to my head.
“Shouldn’t that be batgirl?” he retorted. “Ropes OK. What about bondage tape?”
“If you want mummification you can go to the British Museum,” I suggested.
“What if I don’t cover your head?”
“Mmmmm. Not sure. Let’s see if I cope with your rope play before we go exotic and Egyptian style bondage.”
“Water bondage?”
Crikey! Never been there before. “No experience. Ambivalence is what I’m feeling. Doesn’t that have more to do with breath play?”
“Breath control plays a big role. How do you feel about me controlling your breathing?”
“Ambivalent again. Hands only. No devices or tubes. Choking is out, although I don’t mind my neck been held tightly. Some manhandling is OK. Soft limit.” I was thinking aloud more than anything.
“That’s a lot of ambivalence, Gem,” he noted.
“You’re way more experienced than me, Jason. You’re going to have to be patient and guide me. I don’t mind trying stuff out as long as you keep safe-words in play.”
“I’m not playing without safe-words, Gemma,” he reassured.
I did not think he minded my ambivalence. It pushed the issue of my soft limits into his arena, for him to decide on and in all honesty, it was what I preferred in a relationship. However, my hard limits, which were borne out of phobias and
impenetrable fears, were for the foreseeable future, untouchable.
I asked him politely, if he had any hard limits. He smiled at my question, thanked me for asking and then implied there was nothing he had not tried. He thought it unlikely I would get near his hard limits.
“To some extent, some of yours mirror mine – anal fisting, golden showers. Others I just don’t do any longer regardless of who I play with,” he said simply.
After the limits list, he took me through lots of intimate questions about expectations and a few of them made me a little ill at ease, especially around punishments and discipline. They were going to be inevitable I could tell, in the early stages I was bound to misjudge a rule or misbehave. Would it please him if I was somewhat disobedient and defied him? Did I want to be perfect for him? Pain - the unknown and untested.
“I don’t loan my experienced subs out for intercourse or cuckold myself, Gemma. In the distant past when I fucked novices, I would share them with other men. Only I will use you vaginally and anally, no-one else. Loaning your mouth out for blow-jobs is at my discretion, but for the time being any sharing is off limits. You must never offer yourself to anyone, even in jest,” his tone was slightly menacing. I had found one area that I may not want to push him on and I was intent on leaving disciplining for the trivial matters.
Listening to Jason talk, I recognised that he was very experienced and was starting to sound like a ten year dominant. I had rarely had a partner with this level of knowledge.
“What now?” I looked expectantly at him. “Sir,” I added tardily.
He stood up and went to put the list back in the locked drawer. “Well I’m very keen to try out my new sub,” he towered over me more than ever. The effect was to make him look compelling, sterner and yes, I was thinking the cliché, masterful.
