by Jaye Peaches
A plain unfurnished hallway. Suddenly I thought of a gigantic, over the top dungeon that he had not shown yet.
“Not what you’re thinking,” he always seemed to be able to second guess my thoughts. To the right he opened a door and, it was a gym! Lined with mirrors and fully equipped with weights, treadmill and rowing machine.
“Now I know where your rather magnificent physique comes from,” I said and Jason smiled sweetly, white teeth showing as I complimented him. Back into the hallway, another doorway and this time it looked like a small locker room with bench, pegs and a closet.
“Through there is the shower room,” he pointed to the frosted glass door in front of us. Still with my hand in his, he led me through a different door.
I gaped in surprise – a large indoor swimming pool!
“Wow,” was all I could think to say.
High ceiling, light and airy, one wall was glazed leading out on to decking. The autumn sun shone through the glass on to the sun loungers. The tiles under foot felt rough in texture like sand. A small bar in one corner with drinks cabinet.
“You entertain here?”
“When I was younger.”
Jason gave nothing away. The pool was square on three sides with a rounded end complete with stairs disappearing into the water.
“I haven’t been able to show you this before as it has been undergoing maintenance for a few weeks,” he explained.
“It is great, Jason, and it feels lovely and warm in here.”
“Fancy a swim then?”
He let go of my hand and walked over to one of the loungers, taking his shoes off as he went.
“But, Jason, I didn’t bring my bikini.”
He stopped dead in his tracks and I wondered if he was cross with me, but as he turned to face me, I could see he was laughing.
“Gem, baby. You’re on private property, nothing overlooking us, why do you need a costume?”
My mouth formed a perfect O.
“Oh. Yes. Come on strip,” he commanded.
I nervously began to peel off my clothes. By the time I was down to my underwear, Jason was naked and stepping to the edge of the deep end. He leapt up and dived head first into the water, barely making a splash as he entered, and he swam underwater all the way to the steps at the other end. I glanced at the big window, half expecting a troop of people to come parading by.
“Hurry up Gemma.”
He was getting impatient with me now. I unclipped my bra and slipped off knickers, it all felt so odd. I stood at the water’s edge and watched as he gracefully swam over to my side of the pool. Before I knew what was happening, his hand reached out and grabbed my ankle toppling me into the water next to him. I went right under with a big splash. The water was not cold, although the shock of suddenly entering gave me the impression that the water was chilly, it was quite the contrary - surprisingly warm. I came up spluttering, my loose hair strands drooping over my face. Jason was laughing, childlike, his short blonde hair gleamed in the sun light.
“Jason!” I shrieked.
He disappeared underwater again and started to stalk me underwater shark like. The water lapped around me just above my breasts, the coldness diminished and I attempted to swim around and avoid him. He liked the game and we played cat and mouse in the water, me swimming on the top, him swimming below. He seemed able to hold his breath for an amazing long period.
Jason grabbed me, pulled me upright and then held me close to his drenched body. He did not look boyish now; he looked quite masterful. His erection was visible beneath the water line as he pressed against my hipbone. He backed me against the edge of the pool. My heart was beating fast as he took my lower lip between his bared teeth and sucked hard on it. No words were spoken, his intention clear in his eyes. I shut my eyes as he sought out my pussy using a hand to guide himself through the water. Up he came, just like last night, pushing slowly inside me waiting for me to stretch for him. I was not as ready as last night, and the tightness stung, the look in his face implied he was obtaining a great deal of satisfaction from my lack of readiness.
“Do you want me to stop?” He paused his advances.
I shook my head, I want to please him, and I tried hard to relax my tensed muscles. I had never had sex underwater before and the scene was very erotic and tantalising.
“Please don’t stop,” I answered as good submissive should always, keen and eager to serve him.
“Good girl.” Then he started to fuck me.
Even in water, his sexual appetite was rough and animal like. The ripples of water started to cascade round the pool. I could hear the water splashing over the edge into the drains. The whole sex in the swimming pool was becoming amazingly erotic, my first underwater fuck. I was ready for him and my insides were in knots trying to keep my impending orgasm at bay. I had not asked permission yet.
“Please, sir, may I...”
I winced as he thrust particularly hard inside me. He grabbed my ponytail pulling my head back so it banged against the edge of the pool.
“Yes,” was all Jason said.
We came simultaneously, my back pressed hard against the side as he leant into me. Shutting his eyes, he removed himself and made his way to the steps to climb out. I did not move, riveted to the spot, panting in post-coital bliss.
He found a towel from the towel rails and he lay down on one of the loungers, shutting his eyes. The towel slipped off his damp body on to the floor.
Move, come on move. I emerged from the water, found another towel and I placed it around me tucking it in around my chest. I went over to him, crouching next to his lounger and taking his towel. I began to dry him, patting his limbs and rubbing his chest with small circular motions. Knowing he was dry and comfortable, I lay on the lounger next to him my eyes shut and body still. I basked in the warm sun. At that moment, I was strangely satisfied with life.
When I woke, the sun had descended in the sky, the room was chillier, though not cold. Jason was sitting next to me, he was dressed again and he must have been back to the house because he was reading work documents, making notes in the margins.
“Hello, sleepy head.”
He turned to me while putting the papers down on the small table next to him. I noticed his phone was there too.
“Have you enjoyed yourself this afternoon? You’re looking very relaxed,” he commented.
He held up his paperwork as if to remind me of his dogged work ethic.
“Yes, thank you, sir. Sorry I’ve not been good company.” I was trying to think of something to engage him in conversation.
“I needed to concentrate. I don’t think you can help me with legal contracts,” he said glumly.
I frowned in sympathy. “Martinson will get me access into here?” I wondered when Jason would arrange for Martinson to do take my thumbprint.
“I’ll make sure he does it before you leave tomorrow. If you come in here on your own, you must inform the gatehouse. There is a panic button on the wall by the door and two under those flaps in the tiles by the edge of each end of the pool. They will summon help.” He patted his papers together and returned them to a manila folder on his lap.
“Martinson, he’s more than your driver, he works hard for you? Does he have a life outside of chauffeuring you around?” I was inquisitive about his staff and their relationship with him.
“He’s well paid to be at my beck and call. He lives close by with his family. There is an old estate manager’s house that he has rent free from me. The entrance is further along from the gatehouse,” Jason pointed out of the window across to the trees, “not far from the edge of the gardens.”
“Is he trained as a bodyguard or something?” I turned on my side to face Jason, my bottom was throbbing a little from lying on it.
“He is ex-army, a sergeant in the military police. His skills are broad and invaluable both in protection and investigating, like checking out potential submissives for me.” Jason
held me in his gaze.
“He knows....” my voices trailed off.
I thought back on how Martinson did not query my lying down in the back of car. Martinson must have ferried Jason’s submissives around before, probably in a similar state of discomfort. I would not have been the first to be humiliated in front of his driver, which was an unpleasant thought.
“Yes, as I say he’s paid a great deal of money to work erratic hours and keep his mouth very shut. As are all the others, like Johnson, who if you want to know is ex-Special Branch.” Jason was starting to sound impatient with the direction of the conversation. “Time to head back to the house. I need to work at my computer and you have a meal to cook for me, I believe.” He pointed to my clothes, which were neatly folded on another chair.
Dressed, he led me back to the main house, leaving me in the kitchen to prepare our meal. I diced chicken breasts and left them marinating in Cajun sauce in the fridge. I was drawn to him. I sought him out, hoping for companionship. He was in his study, reclined on his office chair, reading.
“Do you need anything, Jason?” I asked, sticking my head round the door.
Fingers snapped. As quickly as possible, I was next to his leather chair.
“I want to rest my feet. You will be my footstool.”
OK, that game. I was to be his erotic piece of furniture and the humiliation made me squirm with a strange mixture of delight and reticence. I sunk down on my hands on hands and knees.
“I want to feel you, not your clothes. Bum up, elbows down.” Jason’s voice was soft, commanding and impossible to defy.
I pulled my knickers down to my knees, skirt hitched high round my waist. His bare feet rested on my raised bottom, my feet next to the chair legs and head buried in my arms. Busy reading, he ignored me. Eventually my elbows and knees began to ache as the minutes ticked monotonously by. Then his feet started to move. Gentle at first, just running over my lower back to my thighs. I suppressed a moan. A big toe pushed between my cheeks, finding my crack and I spread my legs wider. A foot kicked my bum, not hard, but enough to force me forward on to my arms. Toes scraped my bruised skin, another shove and I landed flat on my belly. Just like lunch, he abused my bottom, this time with his heavy feet. Spread-eagled at his feet, he pressed his heels down, pinning me down. The carpet was thankfully soft, plush and cushioned me. He was hurting me and I let him, unfazed by his treatment of me. I was going crazy with lust, begging him in my head to fuck me.
Jason tossed the papers he had been pretending to read on his desk. “Kneel, face me.”
I complied as I was glad to be off the floor.
“Who do you belong to, Gemma?” A quiet question.
“You, sir,” I intoned, eyes down.
“Why?”
“To please you. I am your obedient girl, sir.” The formula was completed – I continued to give my consent.
What next? He did not appear satisfied.
He grabbed my ponytail, yanking my head back and reaching down he found my wetness with his probing fingers. Nothing said, he did not need to, as he showed me his moist fingers. Fingertips touched my lips and I opened my mouth for him. Three fingers went straight down my throat and I gagged on his long digits. In and out they moved and he created a mess of saliva in my mouth. He was impressively hard, there between his legs, ready for my lubricated mouth. Not the gentle fellatio of the morning, no, he was demonstrating his meaner side, all his dominant facets on display.
I gripped the arms of his chair, either side of his hips. He rocked back and forth in my wide open mouth with little thought for my oral comfort. Up and down I sucked harder, deeper, and faster. He was perched on the edge of his seat and held my face against his navel, chunks of my hair in each of hands. I was suffocating, choking and unable to breathe. Panic rose and he whipped my head back. I inhaled loudly and desperately before he pushed his enormous erection back down my throat. I held the chair tight and struggled to accommodate him in my wretched mouth. Looking up to his face, my eyes stung with watery tears, his face was unsympathetic, ecstatic and absorbed. Whatever I was suffering, he was close to a powerful climax. Inspired, I sucked harder, my lips touching his testicles. Several times he repeated his suffocating penetration and copious amounts of saliva hung down from the corners of my mouth.
“Oh, Fuck! Fuck!” Jason squirted down my throat, thick, hot and salty. I swallowed his white nectar greedily.
He drew back, released from my first Jason Lucas skull fuck. I was dazed and my jaw ached. Dragging me up by my neck, my back flung on his immaculate desk and pinned down. He frigged my clitoris and sopping pussy with those long fingers and broad palm.
“I coming! I'm coming!” I shrieked.
“Fuck yes,” he growled and I did come, squirming, writhing and my mouth drooling.
His hands did not stop.
Oh God!
I was undone. He wanted more from between my spread legs. He was forcing my orgasm to come again. His palm rubbed my clit frantically, unrelenting, fingers stuffed high up inside me. I bucked and thrashed as the waves of intense spasms moved outward, from tender throbbing parts until all my nerves were on fire. Ceasing, he moved off me, then I noticed how hard we were both breathing. I lay on his desk top with my skirt gone. I had not noticed he had pulled it off. Nor that my t-shirt had been ripped or my bra pulled down exposing my breasts. All this was done while I was in the throes of being fucked by his strong, deliberate hands.
I slipped back down on to my knees, at his feet, while he tidied his clothes. Calmly sitting down, he held my head up by the back of my neck.
“Go finish your cooking. I've had my appetiser, I'm hungry for food.”
I stumbled out of his study, clutching my disarrayed clothes, legs shaking. My bra repositioned, torn shirt and skirt back on with knickers, I reached the kitchen. By then I was dissolving in a post-sex haze of mind-blowing emotions. I splashed cold water on my sticky face, swallowing mouthfuls so I could wash away the remains of his semen and my saliva. The shaking would not stop as if I was still there before him, waiting expectantly for his next instruction. I could not switch my emotional high off, the sense of being consumed and devoured by him. His domination of my body left me incapable of reclaiming myself back from wherever he had dumped my frayed flesh. I had gone from a state of being high to low too quickly. I was curled up on the floor when Jason found me; the chicken still marinating in the fridge like my nerves. He drew me up, propping my back against the cupboards, steadying me. His cool hands held my face.
“Look at me, Gemma!” he said firmly but kindly. “Put your hands on my chest.”
I looked into his blue eyes. They were not harsh or displeased, but concerned and piercing. They watched me, observing my rapid breaths, trembling shoulders. I rested my hands on his chest. His heartbeat was slow, steady and so unlike my pounding one. Gradually the beats reached into me, calming mine.
“You're alright,” he told me, “it can happen sometimes. Try to relax. Deep breaths.”
“Sorry,” I whispered, inhaling from my diaphragm.
“Don't apologise. Emotionally over stimulated, weren’t you? You had a little subdrop. You must come and find me if this happens. Don't hide away. Talking helps or we can just cuddle, yes?” A finger ran down my flushed cheek.
I took the cuddle option and with my head between my hands pressed against his breastbone, listening to his beating heart. His arms encased my shivering body. Gradually I came back from my mental wasteland, my pulse slowed, limbs stilled and head cleared.
“I'm good now, thank you.”
I stepped away from him and his eyes watched me closely, seeking confirmation of my statement. He appeared convinced and his hands dropped to his sides.
“Remember I do these things to you because you let me. Your trust in me is your gift to me, your power over me. Don't let me think you're OK when you're not or else I will be abusing your trust significantly. I reward my subs well. Obedient, p
leasing, little subs, but not if they're trying to impress me falsely. Be honest, did you enjoy yourself in there?” he referred to our intense scene.
I could not lie to him. “Honestly yes. God, yes. Lunch, swimming pool, all of it. I was struggling with coming down, not with what we did. I promise not to hide away if I'm overwrought.” My clear green eyes focused on his blue ones.
He pursed his lips, judging my response. “This is important, Gemma, I may not humiliate you in public, but I will debase you for my own personal reasons. Alright, you look better, I’ll leave you to it. I'll find you a different top,” he smiled, tugging my torn shirt. He was gone for only a few minutes.
While I boiled the pasta and fried the chicken, he stayed in the kitchen, reading at the breakfast bar, he did not leave me this time.
He put the knife and fork down together on the cleared plate. He smacked his lips.
“Mmmmm. Very nice, Gemma.” He took my hand and kissed the knuckles. “You’re a good cook.”
“I took lessons.”
I picked the plates up and walked round to the kitchen.
“It seemed to me that being good at cooking is an important skill to have as a submissive. Doms often want to have someone cook for them and well, I don’t want to be humiliated for bad cuisine.” I loaded the dishwasher and ran the tap to rinse out the pans.
“A wise decision.”
He got up and put the table mats away. Then with full wine glasses in each hand he paused. “Join me in front of the fire when you’ve done.”
Jason was sitting on the couch when I came and joined him, he was staring into the flickering flames, the cool autumn air had made the evenings chilly. He held out my wine glass and I sat next to him. The ambience was all very homely.
“I want you to hand in your notice on Monday. You only need to give a week’s notice as an intern.”
He held me his blue gaze as I digested this request. Had it finally come to the commitment stage?
“Don’t get too excited, my dear,” he drawled. “I don’t want you working for me when we come out about are relationship. For one thing, we have the inevitable meet the parents visit to do first. You can give notice on your apartment too.”
