by Jaye Peaches
Does he not have any love for me? That dreadful Saturday night when he had held me tightly and told me he needed me forever, now seemed to be due to the trauma of the night, nothing more. Declaring his love for me in a moment of fear had been a falsehood. A moment of madness for him. Clearly, he did not love me or else he would have fought for me to stay in that hotel room. My efforts to stay in love with him were futile and pointless. Those feelings had to be wiped away.
How could I be so foolish? I stared through tears out of the window. It was snowing, a swirling blizzard of white flakes. I looked down at the ground below; the snow was falling thick and fast and covering the hotel’s driveway rapidly. Snow was not good for airports. Now I was trapped here.
I contemplated his suggestion I did not wished to be controlled. For me submission was the relief of surrendering to another and accepting their pleasure in me, theirs to own and enjoy. When done properly, being nurtured into a power exchange dynamic, could be a wondrous achievement. Throughout my sexual life, I had always sought submission in my relationships. Standing by the window, I was lost and helpless. No. I did need it. I was hopeless without a guide, a compass, my emotions were afloat and I had nowhere to anchor them.
After my life had been turned upside down, I could not cope with the idea of submission, and I had buried it. I had tried to become conventional. I had found the new job, danced in clubs with ‘normal’ friends and avoided the other venues that signified my past. Spiralling into a void, I had become depressed and unsure of my future. Then Jason had appeared and he had gave me back the direction my life was lacking. He thrilled me and the sex was fantastic too. We had connected beyond the simple D/s dynamics of a single scene so quickly and easily.
No! I needed him. I had fallen in love with him, the sentiment was irreversible. He had his issues too and I could not reconcile them. Jason the lover I could be with forever, when he gave and showed kindness it captivated me. Jason the master was like a loose cannon, constantly changing direction, there one minute gone the next. How could I trust him with my damaged past haunting me forever?
***
The snow piled up quickly, by the evening there were drifts forming. I heard nothing from Jason. Whether he had found me transport or even cared what state I was in. Peering at the outside lights, I could see it had stopped snowing. My position by the window had been a permanent feature of the day. The view was beautiful. A mountain landscape, though now darkness had hidden it from my sight. Suddenly I had a deep wish to be out there, in the snow and open spaces, where everything was white and pure.
I put my shoes on and the thick coat I bought for the weekend, at Jason’s insistence. I kept my head down as I passed the reception desk and stepped out into the cold. An attempt had been made to clear the hotel’s drive and pathways. The effort looked rather futile and not very successful. I walked, with my shoes sinking in the drifts, around the side of the hotel to where I could just make out the landscaped terraces. I wondered how far they went into the dimness and what botanical treasures were hidden behind the whiteness. I was half aware that the rational part of my brain was slipping away from me, as it did the night Libby became a murderess.
I did not care. I did not even notice the cold.
Chapter 22
“Gemma! Gemma!”
Where am I? I’m very cold. I’m frozen.
“What are you doing here?”
Where?
I did not think I was anywhere. I’m completely lost.
***
“Hypothermia, Mr Lucas. Not too severe, I’ve seen a few cases in my time - she will be disorientated for a while but that should pass. I don’t think she needs hospitalisation though. Warm drinks, no alcohol. Rest, plenty of rest.”
I did not recognise the Scottish voice. I sank back into my pillow and returned to the darkness.
I opened my eyes and I was in a hotel room. The same one I slept in on Friday night.
Jason was sitting near my bed in a chair. He had stubble on his chin and he looked tired. There was daylight outside, bleak and grey, the window’s curtains were drawn back. We were alone. Where was that other person I had heard speaking? I was cold, not bone chilling so, but an echo of a deeper coldness, which had left my body. There were two duvets on me and I was sure there was a hot water bottle by my feet. How long was I out there? I shut my eyes again. I was not ready to face him yet.
There was an aroma, a pleasant one: cocoa. Next to my bed was a steaming mug of hot chocolate. The coldness had noticeably diminished and I wanted to sit up. Outside the sky had cleared and was a crystal blue, reminding me of another blueness. Jason’s eyes were there watching me from his chair. Propping myself up on the pillows, I took a sip of the creamy sweet liquid and it made a warm glow inside me. When I was finished, I rested my head back and it had to be done. We needed to talk to each other.
“Where did you find me?” I murmured, not looking at him directly.
“At the bottom of the garden, on a bench,” he spoke in low tones. Perhaps we could talk sensibly, as he did not appear to be angry.
“I remember going out. I don’t remember being there.”
I pulled back my duvets to expose my feet and there were thick socks on them. They were burning hot now rather than freezing cold.
“Your feet were deep in snow in not the most appropriate of shoes. You’re lucky not to have frost bite.” Jason came across, put the duvets back on me and sat at the bottom of the bed. “We had a search party out looking for you. The receptionist saw you go out but not come back in. Why, Gemma?”
“You said in your letter that I’m a strong person. I’m not, Jason. I picked myself up and got on with things after what he did to me. New job, dancing with my friends, my own therapy. Life was hard, I was depressed and heading nowhere. I ignored my family, friends - everyone. Every day was a battle to face people. I can’t do it again, I’m lost without you. Then you sent your letter. It was cruel, Jason. You dismissed me like I was your plaything: a toy. Your letter hurt me, more than whips or canes ever have done. You last line even failed to recognise your own ability to hurt me.”
He flinched at my last comment.
“You walked out, not me, Gemma,” he said sharply.
True, I had.
“I never said I didn’t love you, Jason. I’m head over heels in love with you and have been for weeks. You told me you didn’t do 24/7 relationships and yet you call me into submission whenever you like and I feel like a spinning top. I’ve never given myself like this with anyone but you. Before we met, there was always a set time and place for me to do a scene, provide a service or to be trained. It is the... mechanics, for want of a better word, the mechanics of our dom / sub relationship that is not working for me. You acknowledged that so well in your own words. I can’t be with you and love you carrying on...” My voice faltered and I had said enough.
Jason was looking down at his manicured hands. “I am sorry. I underestimated your ability to move from bedroom based submission to something you have had little experience of, at least successfully. I’ve pushed you too hard.” His voice switched to a strained voice. “This isn’t what I planned for this weekend. I mean what happened yesterday morning, my demanding you to submit. I intended something quite different. I have to be in control and when I am stressed... I was apprehensive yesterday and seeing you happily talking to other men. It sparked that dangerous fuse of envy, which sits smouldering inside me.”
Jason looked quite a different man to me now. He was exposing his emotional vulnerabilities.
“I wouldn’t have touched you. Just seeing you on your knees would have been sufficient to calm me. Then you defied me and unleashed this verbal assault on me. I had no idea you had these concerns or doubts about our arrangement,” his voice was rising with emotion. He stopped and sighed deeply.
“When I wrote the letter, I thought I was reflecting what you were telling me and it would be what you wanted. Confirmation of yo
ur thoughts and restating them would help bring you closure,” he paused.
I could not hide my despair. Had not love enter into his thoughts at all?
“I tried to arrange a flight for you back south.” Jason looked up at me and his eyes were looking brighter, almost watery.
Surely not tears!
“When they told me the airport had suspended all flights, I was overcome with relief. An emotion which almost undid me. It meant you would still be here and maybe you would change your mind. So, I went to find you, in your room. You weren’t there. I looked around the hotel, no sign of you. It had turned dark and cold outside. The thought never crossed my mind you would be out in it. Then when the receptionist told me you’d gone out on foot and it had been an hour since you’d left. Christ, Gemma!” His voice crumbled for a few seconds and then he cleared his throat before continuing.
“The hotel staff, the manager, they all came to search for you. You looked like a frozen statue sat there. I thought you were dead. The manager carried you back in, checked you over, I couldn’t touch you. Your skin was so cold and I wanted to feel warmth from you.” He came to a sudden halt as if he did not want to think about yesterday any longer.
I could not bear it anymore and I emerged from my warm cocoon and crawled next to him. I took one of his hands in mine and he let me. He had done what I wanted him to do, showed me his feelings and they had made me contrite.
“I’m sorry,” I said with sincerity. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I don’t think I was aware what I was doing by then. I couldn’t believe you would accept my departure so easily. I couldn’t see a future without you. The snow looked so pretty and inviting, like the sheets of a bed. Somewhere to retreat to and give up.”
He wrapped my hand in both of his and leant down to kiss it.
“What did you have planned for me this weekend?” I asked intrigued.
He looked slightly embarrassed. “All the things you would desire, romance, my devoted attention and a... a proposal.”
His lips curled up and I was sitting up looking up at him intently. “Gemma. I want you to stay with me, but things are going to be different from now on. I promise you. I do love you and want you to have my love unconditionally. From now on I won’t make you submit to me in any office, hotel room or any room in our houses,” he was speaking earnestly and with passion. “Do you understand?”
I nodded but I had serious doubts. There was the unmet need in both of us - his need to control me and mine to be dominated. The traits were innate in both of us.
“What of your needs, Jason? And mine too. I’m not saying I don’t want to be your submissive, it’s the boundaries which need to be defined better.”
Jason cupped my face in his hands, stroking his thumbs across my cheeks. He smiled in relief, in spite of everything, I knew he wanted to be my master.
“You will only ever be my submissive in one room. We will enter together as equals, no more waiting for me, and there you can freely submit to me when I ask you to and we will do our scenes, nothing more.”
A wave of release flooded over me. That arrangement could work for me if he could manage the rest of the time to control his urges.
“What about your rules?”
Would he expect me to comply with them all the time?
“Outside of the lair? They're gone, out of the window. No asking permission, no kneeling. If you want to take pleasure in yourself while away on a business trip, I’ll cope with the idea as long as you’re thinking of me.”
Jason had a boyish look on his face. Our conversation was going well, I felt liberated and these boundaries were making sense to me. “Flirting, your type of flirting, I will have to come to terms with, I’ll need time though. I don’t want to share you, not with strange men.”
I agreed, his concept of flirting would be harder for him to deal with, especially if he could not even bear me talking to strange men.
Jason moved off the bed and knelt at my feet. It took me by surprise to see him at my feet looking edgy and meek. He took my hands in his and squeezed.
“Gemma. I love you and I want to be with you forever. My proposal is marriage. I would wish you to be my wife.”
For a spilt second, I thought I had misheard him or imagined this strange scene in a dream. A dominant asking me to marry him because he loved me. I could not stop the tears of delight. I leapt down into his lap and wrapped my arms around him.
“Yes! Yes, yes,” I burbled the words out at him.
We sat on the floor for some time, not speaking and just holding each other. Our breathing conjoined in excitement. After a while, I did not know how long, we got up, climbed back into the bed and snuggled down in each other arms. We both wanted to sleep, it had been a stressful night, but our tribulations were over now.
Later we made up for lost time. I did not wear my evening gown. We did not leave the suite and we barely left the bedroom. Whatever Jason had planned for the weekend had been ploughed away with the snow. The bed became our sanctuary and my body rediscovered its warmth with Jason’s help. As darkness descended again, his eyes summoned me into his arms. I saw beyond their intense blueness into his heart and mind.
There had, and always would be, an unequalness between us but we were balanced in our own way. Even without the things I had long craved – the whips, ropes and sensual toys – we were compatible in our love-making. I adored his masterful ways: the manipulation of my body was done with subtleness and I could not stop my mouth from seeking him out in reply. Never one for many words during sex, Sunday night in Scotland, Jason gave me all I desired. The next day, I vaguely remembered his utterances, his affirmations, the gentle caresses and my blissful climaxes – they were mere essences of that night. They were sufficient for my memories. I wanted nothing more. I had Jason’s love.
Chapter 23
A month had passed since that tumultuous weekend in Scotland. I thought back on how our relationship had developed over the previous weeks and I was blissfully happy with the outcome.
We had eventually returned from Inverness on the Monday when the airport reopened. The changes to our relationship were apparent from the outset. Jason had been far more forthcoming with expressions of endearment and affection and remained keen to prove he was genuine about his declaration of love.
Changes to our routine in the week too. There was no more cooking evening meals for Jason. Mr Brooks had been resurrected from his basement flat to cook evening meals for us, freeing up my time to do other things in the early evening. Mr Brooks was retired from the army where he spent his years as batman for a colonel. He turned out to be an excellent chef too.
I spent my free time doing my own preferred form of exercise: zumba and salsa dancing. Jason had released me from his required gym sessions, which were intensely boring and begrudgingly agreed to my own regime. Convincing him salsa dancing was innocuous fun took some doing as he had combated his issues over me dancing with other men.
“It is a professional dance class, no hanky panky.” My hands were on my hips while he had suppressed a strongly worded rebuttal. Then he had sighed and raised his hands in defeat.
Jason continued his relentless pace of work and I accepted he was not going to be much company in the evenings. He came to bed with stress more evident on his face. Since our engagement, he no longer hid his feelings from me. His unreadable face was fading from view and he embraced his emotions more readily. Some nights he came to bed aroused and we made rapid, urgent love, letting him release his frustrations through me. It could be rough sometimes, but never without pleasure, and he remained the director of our love-making. I came loudly and when I wished. It was very therapeutic and the freedom helped heal my fractured passions.
I made a special effort to meet the elusive Mrs Harris by turning up mid-day on the first Friday back from Scotland. She had been noticeably perturbed by my presence. She had been busy preparing food for the weekend and keeping a watchful eye on a cleaner.
I thought though I won her over quickly when I had complimented her on her food and asked that she continued to treat us to her culinary delights. We had chatted about the house and its furnishings. We laughed together when I had mentioned my desire to feminise the property more. I did not mention the engagement, it felt more appropriate coming from Jason. Mrs Harris had been further delighted when in the afternoon I took her off in my BMW to buy food from that the farm shop. She had gone home at four o’clock with a basketful of fresh fruit.
My first evening with Jason, back together at Blythewood, was perhaps the tensest of the last few weeks. I had sat doing a crossword while Jason checked his emails on his laptop. Both of us were showing signs of agitation as our unrequited needs remained unspoken. I had taken the initiative, went over to him and pushed his laptop to one side so I could sit on his lap.
“Gemma?” His eyes had flashed with amusement. “Am I boring you?”
I had wriggled on his lap. “I want to be entertained, Mr Lucas,” I said cheekily.
“Indeed.”
The prod was enough to spur him into action.
As he had promised in Scotland, we both entered his lair together. Only when we were both inside the room, door shut, would he turn and ask me to submit to him. I would kneel, offer myself willingly to him, calling him master. It became the pattern of our visits over the coming weeks. I would called him master and he called me other names – little subbie, slave or something else - to help reinforce the difference our relationship took in his room. We used our personal names only when communicating about the nature of the play. The sessions were often very intense. Jason came close to pushing me to my limits on a few occasions. He could read my body language like a book though and each time I felt a safe-word was going to be uttered, he withdrew or eased up. The trust between us continued to be built.
