by Jaye Peaches
“Good me too. That’s enough on the subject. At least security doesn’t have to be clandestine about following you anymore.”
I decided to drop the thought of bodyguards trailing around after me, it was depressing and I did not want another argument. After all, I was ensconced behind iron gates and perimeter fences, not a vulnerable apartment block. The ugly topic of personal protection came up again rather quickly though. I stuck my head around Jason’s study, he was busy typing at his laptop. He stopped and looked up, slightly annoyed by my interruption.
“What?” he snapped.
“I’m taking the beamer for a spin and picking up some veg from that farm shop.” I went to leave, but his voice cut across the room.
“No you’re bloody not, Johnson will drive you.”
“Jason, what’s the point in me having a car if I can’t drive it,” I said standing with my hands on my hips.
Jason looked quite furious all of sudden. Unexpectedly he snapped his fingers and I paused fractionally, then dashed over to his desk and stood by his chair. He grabbed me, dragging me down so I was kneeling at his feet.
“Don’t fuck with me, Gemma. This is serious. I didn’t know you were at risk when I got you the car. From now on you don’t go anywhere without me or another escort. Do I make myself clear?” he glared down at me.
“Yes, sir.”
He picked up his desk phone and punched the numbers down.
“Miss Marshall needs to go out, fetch a car round for her,” he barked down the phone then hung up.
“When I’m done here and you’re back, after dinner, I’m going to fuck you to remind you I’m your master. I think you’ve been forgetting your place over the last few days. You will respect me and my wishes. Do you understand me?” he demanded an affirmation from me.
I knew I should let him do this: take away the worries and burdens he had revealed to me over the last twenty-four hours. There in his lair, I would magically fall under his spell and submit to whatever he desired from me. The letting go was key to my willingness and what once had to be drummed into me had now become intrinsic to my sexual life.
“Yes, sir. I am very grateful for your concern about my safety, truly.”
I looked up meekly and I was mentally shackled to him immediately. I may not be his slave by definition, but in practice I could not stop myself from being obedient. I exemplified a dignified humility, which I would cling to even though there was always a part of me that would not succumb to the full-blown submission of a totally controlled slave.
“Good, now off with you. I’m expecting something mouth-watering for dinner.” He turned back to his laptop and carried on typing.
A promise had been made and I did not think he would renege on its delivery. The looming scene distracted me as I was ferried about the countryside to my chosen destination. I was sure the driver had to ask several times where I wanted to go as I fiddled with the straps of my handbag. Sexual lust did not require much ramping up for me. The mere threat of being tied up and spanked set me ablaze. What I was finding with Jason was it went beyond a simple desire. Others could create the longing in me but only Jason managed to consume my thoughts to the point of insensibility.
As my silly back seat fantasies took hold, I was embarrassed by my wetness. Even though he was cross with me, and I would probably be made me to pay for my earlier impudence in some fashion, I wanted it badly. The sensual pain I craved was calling to me and I imagined my rosy red bottom bent over for him as I offered up my pussy for his delectation.
Stop it! I shouted at my libido.
I did not enjoy my trip out, not just because I was in a needy state of mind, but because I could not wander freely. Behind me, a few paces away, was the driver. Now I realised they were not just chauffeurs. These men, in their dark suits and glasses, were highly trained bodyguards tasked with protecting a wealthy man. I was part of that wealth too, an asset for him. I did not want to be seen as his possession, like an owned commodity with no emotional attachment. I hoped he was protecting me because of the threat against me and not to reinforce the role I had in his life.
With those stalking footsteps behind me, I was constantly being monitored and observed. Jason could now have a running report of my activities and how I spent my free time. What I bought, to whom I spoke and even the trivial exchanges with the shop assistants were no longer the personal events in my life. Something had happened to my privacy and it was unsettling. I should be grateful, that was what Jason told me, to have the expertise of his protection officers about me at all times. Instead of being reassured and relaxed, I was unnerved and I gave up on my shopping trip.
“Take me home,” I said the burly man.
Home. At least I had called it home and the little word brought me out of my despondency. During the journey to Blythewood House, I lifted myself out of the doldrums and plotted an evening meal hoping to placate his annoyance with me.
Later in his lair, I would submit myself to his ardent demands, trying hard to please him. Having contained my lustful thoughts while out shopping, I concentrated on the practicalities of mentally and physically preparing myself for his scene. The prerequisite wash, douching myself and I stroked my clit a little to bring on my arousal further, not that my ever reliable sex organ needed much encouragement. I did not think he would bother with foreplay. My intuition paid off as he gave me a cursory check over and barked his orders at me with little civility.
“Here, slut,” he snapped his fingers at a spot on the floor.
For some reason his dirty uncouth words were what I needed to complete my flourishing arousal. Sometimes niceties were what I desired - the please and thank yous of a genteel lover - other times I quite enjoyed being spoken to as if I was a whore in the making. Probably because sometimes I was close to being an all-out slut.
I wiggled my bum at him and he threw further coarse words at me in response. My hidden face was grinning as if being verbally insulted was an important aspect of our play. I lapped up the attention after being neglected all afternoon. Perhaps he too was smiling at me as he admonished me. I was bent over in the middle of the room, grasping my ankles tightly, legs splayed wide with a spreader. Jason bound my ankles to my wrists with leather cuffs. He stood behind me waiting to begin and gripped my waist tightly, fingertips digging into my flesh as he held me upright.
“What do you have to say to me, fuck hole,” he smacked a buttock hard.
“I’m sorry I questioned your intentions, sir.” I spoke breathlessly to him from between my legs. I focused on the floor, feeling him grasp my waist even tighter in his hands, as if I had handles attached to my sides.
“Good girl. You are looking so fuckable now, quite delectable,” he said, then slammed deep into my sopping pussy.
He rocked me back and forth, on and off his hard cock. I could hear my juices squelching in response to his fast movements. Exhaling in short bursts, my eyes tightly shut, I waited for him to finish. I saw words and numbers littered about my mind as I tried hard to limit my own arousal. It was especially hard to hold back as he seemed to be making me sink to a new level of service to him. He was rough and the spanking continued unabated as he fucked me. Fingers clawed my flesh and at one point he bit my neck in a long hard suck. Pain was being transmitted into me by his actions and to my delight it only made me want to come more. He reached a noisy climax, having denied me mine own. Then I realised I let him use me with my head upside down. Perhaps I was finally beginning to put my fears to rest. Jason was looking after me now, a different man, not the one I feared.
The night was young and he continued his sexual admonishment of my body into the early hours. A good job I had used the douche as he lowered himself into my back passage from above me while my legs were scooped back over my head. My backside was covered in stripes from the crop and my breasts were glowing pink from all the blows. He eventually let me come with the favoured vibrating wand pressed painfully hard on my clitoris.
I writhed and screamed loudly as if it was only pain I was feeling. Underneath the tenderness was a tremendous climax of contentment and catharsis.
While I screamed, he held me tight and called me dirty names. Lapping up the vulgarity made my orgasm sweep on and on and I let a few tears descend my face as I saw him smile down at me. Switching off the vibrator, he released me from his scene and I had to admit, when I stumbled back to the bedroom to shower and sleep, that I found his methods very agreeable if perverse.
***
Jason had gone to play golf and I had the house to myself. With no apartment to return to, I busied myself with tasks. I had unpacked my boxes, contrary to my fears it all vanished easily into the wardrobes and drawers. He planned for one of the upstairs bedrooms to be converted into my hobby room. I needed to choose one and he would arrange to have it redecorated and furnished for me. I wandered around and after some thought picked the room with the best light and view to paint in. I was starting to consider myself at home for the first time. I dug out my bikini and decided to go for a swim, although I could not contemplate doing it in the nude. As Jason requested I let the gatehouse know before I walked over to the old stable block.
The thumbprint access worked fine and I slipped out of my clothes revealing my bikini. I slithered into the water and slowly swam a few lengths up and down. Noise distracted me, I noticed torrential rain was pouring down outside and the sky looked bleak with early darkness descending. Floating on the water, quite relaxed and content with my state of affairs, I was in the lap of decadent luxury.
Splashes of water landed on my face and I jumped out of my floating revelry to find Jason crouched by the side of the pool with his hand in the water. He had a wide grin on his face as he shook the water off his hand.
“Jason, you almost gave me a heart attack!” I yelled at him. “What happened to the golf?”
He pointed to the window and the sheets of rain falling against it. I made that O shape with my mouth.
“I came back for some other entertainment and tracked you down to here.” Jason stood up. “Get out of the water, I’ve no intention of experiencing any more wetness after being drenched on the greens.”
I noticed then he was not wearing his golfing clothes, he was in his jeans and a sweatshirt. I slowly climbed out of the water using the steps. Jason held out a towel for me and wrapped it around my shoulders. He led me to a lounger and I used it to prop my legs on while I rubbed them down.
“You’d better take that wet bikini off,” he spoke from behind me, snapping the elasticated waistband with a twang.
I unfastened my bikini top and let it drop on the floor followed by the bottom section. His hands rested on my waist and he traced his thumbs up and down my spine, almost tickling me.
Please, please, please! It was all I could think. Being with Jason made a voracious animal.
He sniffed me. “You smell of chlorine, shame, but I’ll cope. Do you remember when we first came here you were concerned about our privacy?” he asked.
I nodded almost perceivably. I was still aware of my self-consciousness.
“Yes, sir - is what you say. I think we need to deal with this issue. Perhaps if I fuck you blatantly in front of this window you might lose your inhibitions. Umm? What do you think, Gemma?” his voice whispered in my ear seductively.
“Yes, sir,” I answered clearly.
The rain had stopped, the sky was beginning to clear and the dying dregs of sunlight have penetrated into the room warming it up noticeably. My body was quivering slightly in anticipation. I still felt well used from last night.
“Today has been disappointing, not to complete my game has left me frustrated and incomplete. I’m quite tense. Then I think of you and I find myself losing that tension. I believe I would have won that game if the rain hadn’t arrived,” his voice had an edge to it like his unresolved frustration. “And here you are ready for me, naked and sexy, all mine to be taken. Most pleasing.”
“Yours, sir,” I murmured with a thump in my chest. Eyes shut for a few seconds I waited for him to make his next move.
Jason re-positioned me against the headrest end of the lounger, which was raised up into a sitting position. With firm deliberation, he pushed me over it, my bottom forced up high. I held on to the sides of the lounger my head pressed against the fabric of the padding. My heart was beating loudly in my ears. I saw his sweatshirt land on the tiles and heard the sound of his zipper being released. Then my ponytail was grasped hard and my head pulled back. With one hand on my hip, I was speared by him with one smooth thrust. I was so wet from his seductive voice that I took it with little resistance and I moaned loudly. Then he started to move with brutal energy and I felt a wonderful connection to him.
Oh, God, let me come please!
Jason did not intend to let me enjoy myself. I was left bent over and breathless as he scooped to pick up his sweatshirt and reassemble his clothing. As he was about to leave he flicked my bottom with a finger.
“Don’t get any ideas... I’ll see you back in the house shortly.”
With that parting comment, he strolled out of the pool looking most content. Standing up I realised that Jason and I had exchanged emotions. Now I was the one frustrated and incomplete and he was relaxed and satisfied.
Shit! Why do I let him do this to me? I knew the answer, I always did: I would be the source of his happiness.
The weekend finished on a high note. Jason took me back to the little pub for an evening meal, which was pleasant and we managed to chat without raising any difficult issues. Naturally, security came, driving us there and back, monitoring coming and goings from the pub’s doorway. We retired early to the bedroom, and I pleased Jason by giving him a blow-job as he relaxed in the bath. I was delighted went he reciprocated on me. At last, I was allowed pleasure. Wow, he could hit my sweet spots so well.
***
Monday morning and we took a detour so he could show me his townhouse - Piedmont as it was called. He rang work to tell Carla he would be delayed as he wanted to show me around the place. Located in an exclusive part of West London, the property was one of those terraced houses that surrounded a walled secluded square garden. The house was on three floors. I could see through the wrought iron railings and down a flight of stairs that there was a basement flat with a separate front door. The architecture was Georgian and had all the features intact and well maintained. Jason had the property on a long lease, from a notable landowner. He took my hand and led me up the stairs to the large doorway. Smiling, he unlocked the door and I tentatively walked in.
The house was considerably different to his country mansion. Unlike Blythewood House, he had chosen not to fit the rooms out with modern furnishings or decorations. The decor was in keeping with the period the house was built in. A drawing room – as Jason called it – with original fireplace, a small TV and two large sofas. A floor to ceiling window faced out on to the street. Across the hallway with its grand stairwell rising up two storeys above us, there was the dining room with elegant wooden table and chairs in a Chippendale style. At the back of the house a large kitchen diner, with smaller table and chairs. This room had been modernised with a more contemporary kitchen. A patio door opened out on to a small decked area and walled yard. Barbed fencing on top of the wall made the exterior look like a prison yard. I frowned at the thought of being imprisoned anywhere.
“Come.” Jason sensed my discomfort and led me upstairs.
The master bedroom with en-suite was tasteful decorated. The lack of feminine touches all too apparent again, no dressing table or mirrors. I sighed, the decor would need to be addressed if things were going to be long-term. A few familiar packing boxes were standing against a wall, mine from my apartment. Opposite was a delightful room. A study with bookcases lining the walls. The room had modern furniture, which seemed in keeping with the high ceilings and sepia coloured flock wallpaper, which was present throughout the house. The top floor had three small b
edrooms. Those rooms surprised me because one was set up as a double room and the other two were singles decorated in style of a child’s room. There were bright colours and even children’s drawings pinned to a pegboard. I turned to Jason, not able to hide my bewilderment.
“My nieces.” Jason nodded at a photo on the bedside table. It depicted a family grouping. “My brother and his wife use the house in the summer, while I’m away abroad. They take the kids to museums, shows, that sort of thing,”
For some strange reason I kept forgetting that Jason had relatives. We headed back downstairs and as we descended, I ran my hand down the smooth polished wooden banister, curving its way down past the middle floor.
“It is lovely, Jason. Very homely.” Not quite the truth, the place felt like a bachelor pad. We were standing in the hallway and he had taken me in his arms.
“Good, I’m glad. It has been very quiet here in the evenings knowing you’re somewhere else. It is good that you’re here now.” He released me. “I have to get to work. Make yourself at home. Don’t go out without ringing me. You must be accompanied. You do understand?”
“Yes of course.” I did not want to antagonise him as things were going so well between us.
“Mr Brooks will provide you with anything you need.”
I looked quizzically at Jason.
“Mr Brooks lives in the basement flat. He’s, I suppose for want of a better word, my butler,” Jason smiled as I struggled to conceal my amusement. “Ring zero on the kitchen phone he will let himself in at the back. What?! Did you think I cook and clean this place too?”
Jason shook his head with mock surprise and planted a quick kiss on my lips.
“I’ll be back at seven. Bye,” and he was gone.
***
The aroma of food permeated the house and Jason looked especially pleased to see me in the kitchen busy cooking away.
