by Jaye Peaches
“Um.” Jason perched back on the dresser. “I suppose I did the same. Modesto watching us in the pool. Didn’t bother me. He wasn’t the only one.”
She wanted to make a snarky remark, reminding him why she didn’t like observers, but the time didn’t seem appropriate. They had both been oblivious to the risks posed by Modesto. Nobody knew his past or what he might be capable of doing. “What I don’t get is how he got into our room. I thought he didn’t have access?”
“Ah.” Jason gave his head a small shake and frowned. “It would seem Ted had a poor memory for numbers. He wrote the code down on a scrap of paper. Must have kept it someplace in his cabin. Modesto had been tasked with cleaning the room out. The paper was found in his trouser pocket. The police didn’t recognise its significance. Lubinsky did when he saw it. Let’s not dwell on this any longer. It’s done.”
Holding out her hands, she noted the amber henna had started to fade. Like their cruise, everything had to be brought to a suitable ending and life would return to normal.
Jason leant forward, bending slightly, so his face loomed closer to her own. “Kneel,” he said softly.
Gemma did so immediately, towel clutched in her hands.
“Look at me, babe.” He tilted her chin up. “You’re released, Mrs Lucas.”
He helped her to her feet. “Now, let me dry you. How is your bottom?”
“Not as bad as I thought it would be. I’m going to ask Maria for some of her magic potion to take with me. I really would like to be able to sit comfortably through an opera.”
“You could always use one of those rubber rings, the kind old dears sit on.” He rubbed down her legs with the towel.
“Jason! Make everyone think I have piles. No way. I will grin and bear it.” She cheerfully took delight in calling her husband by his name. It re-enforced their return to the vanilla world.
“Good. I’m sure you will be fine. Now, let’s go up to the sundeck and enjoy the view. Esteban can send up breakfast for you there.”
By the time the yacht berthed in one of Venice’s many marinas, they had seen plenty of Venice. The Yacht had sailed past Lido and Giudecca into the lagoon. Gemma waved vigorously at the passing ferries and launches. Jason stood next to her with his arm about her waist, pointing out the different sights. He had been to Venice before.
They said their first good-byes to Enrique and Maria in private. The luggage had been packed and sorted according to Gemma’s wishes. She only required two days of clothing, and the rest would be sent direct to the airport for stowing on the jet, including all of Jason’s toy collection. Nothing kinky would go with them to the hotel, except the ubiquitous lubricant tubes.
“I really should take out shares in the company that makes this stuff.” Jason tossed another empty tube in the waste bin. She had laughed, listening to him muttering under his breath.
Gemma shook Enrique’s hand, and he enveloped hers in both of his. “Thank you. I’ve not always been gracious to you. I hope you will send us your drawings when you have finished them. I would love to see them.”
He released his grasp, putting a hand to his chest. “You will, señora. They are my gift to you and your husband. They never were for publishing.” He gave her a small bow and backed away.
Jason approached from behind, kissing her earlobe and whispering, “Another collection of images to be locked away in my safe, Gemma.”
She knew what lay in the strongbox already. “I can imagine the safe is going to get full of erotica by the time we’re old.”
Gemma bid farewell to Maria as the little woman braided her hair one last time. “You’ve been so supportive of me. I couldn’t have managed without you. You know how demanding Jason is as a Dominant.”
Maria gave her a knowing smile in the mirror.
“I especially want to thank you for helping me with finding my versatile side. A new discovery, and you were so patient with me.” She tilted her head back towards Maria. “Great orgasms, too. Don’t tell Jason. Don’t want to make him jealous!” The two women sniggered.
“So, now you are not his submissive, señora. Does he really change for you?”
“Change? No, he is as he always is—the unceasing Dominant in my life, and I am his submissive, striving to please him. The big difference is he has to wait for me, accept I can deny giving him pleasure, and I don’t have to ask permission for my own. I am, though, his loving wife. That is an unending requirement. I am happy to be that person, always.”
“He does treat you differently. I believe he has always had great respect for his submissives. He knows they gift him their submission. With you, he found romance and love. His need to protect you is enduring. I am pleased for you both.”
Maria kissed her on the lips, not a passionate kiss or sexual, but a kiss of friendship. Gemma gave her a big hug and wiped a tear away. She would miss her Mexican friend.
***
The crew had lined up in the main salon for the obligatory handshakes and displays of gratitude as Gemma descended the stairs one last time, hand in hand with Jason. She had removed the collar necklace and its padlock pendant. Its significance may have never been understood by the crew, but she missed it. She kissed Gaspar’s cheek and thanked him for his dancing lessons. Reminded Kevin his stories would make a great novel and applauded the toothy Dario for his delicious food. Each crew member received a personal comment regardless of their status or role. Her vivacious demeanour contrasted with her husband’s quieter one. He let her take the lead down the line, stepping back with his hands tucked behind his back.
Reaching Esteban and McKenzie last, Gemma said good-bye to them, offering them her most charming smile and a long shake of her hand.
“I’m sure there have been less stressful cruises for you two. I’ve had an amazing time. For Jason and I, it has been quite sublime.” She spoke softly so only the two men could hear. “A kinky girl’s paradise.”
Ruled by Him
Volume Two of Sublime Trust
Gemma Lucas’s life is about to be transformed by a new arrival and her ambition to become an artist. To help deal with the mounting challenges, Gemma enters into a new agreement with her Dominant Jason, one that requires her to be his submissive full-time.
Adapting to her husband’s increasing dominance requires adjustment, especially when a threatening letter is found in her bag at a dance class.
Will the couple’s secret kinky lifestyle be exposed or will Jason’s ruthless approach to his enemies save them?
Part One
Chapter 1. Home
She rested on her knees between his legs and centred her thoughts on her job. An increasingly unexciting job. The lingering doubts and intrusive niggles that interrupted her daily tasks and routines amassed and multiplied. Try as she might, she couldn’t damp them down nor tuck them back into their recesses.
The trouble with long holidays was handling the break from work. Returning home put life into a different perspective. The cold-light-of-day experience brought about by a recuperated mind. After Gemma returned from a three-week cruise of the Mediterranean Sea on board the luxury-yacht Sublime, she faced the knowledge her chosen career wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Waking late on Sunday morning, she should have been engrossed with a particular task—giving her husband his wake-up dose of pleasurable sex. Instead, with her tongue poised at the base of his erection, she pondered the last few days.
Saturday had been the unpack, make washing piles, and wander about the house day. She’d kept walking about because she felt a stranger in her own home. Blythewood House, the vast Victorian country mansion, seemed cast in darkness after the bright Mediterranean sunshine. There were no hot radiant rays pulsing through the windows and the thick carpets dulled the sounds of her footsteps. Chilled, she wore a thick jumper, even though it was a typical warm English summer’s day.
Laziness struck her down, too. The idea of cooking, keeping the kitchen clean, and all other tedious domestic stuff was daunting and not eng
aging. Thankfully, the housekeeper, Mrs Harris, had planned ahead, and Gemma’s culinary skills were required only for re-heating or finishing off the prepared dishes left in the fridge or freezer.
Her husband, Jason, had vanished into his study. She’d known he would retreat into his den. All the same, she suffered a major drop. A depression brought on by the sense of being disowned by him as a Dominant, although not as her husband. The two days post-cruise in Venice had been a married couple’s blissful escape before returning home.
The luxury hotel off Piazzo San Marco had spoilt them. An unsurprising scenario, given Jason’s millions—he expected excellent service irrespective of the calibre of the establishment. As he had promised, they’d attended the opera—La Traviatta. Sitting in her prime-placed box seat, Gemma had cried, as she always did when she listened to the soaring arias. Jason came prepared with a spare handkerchief and tucked it into her palm when the tears dripped down her face. He, naturally, had been unmoved by either the opera or her overt display of emotion. He’d listened with head bowed and eyes shut. A casual observer might have concluded he detested the music and slept. She knew different. His mother, a music teacher, had instilled a love of the classical repertoire in him. Gemma’s first date with him had been at a concert. He preferred to enjoy music in a state of quiet contemplation and little fuss.
He’d followed up the night at the opera with the obligatory ride in a sumptuous gondola complete with an aria-singing tenor serenading them. As they drifted about the canal system, reclining in their seats, they had dined on each other’s lips. Gentle kisses and the odd flick of tongues. She adored his unobtrusive seduction, giggled at his whispered quips, and squirmed under his roving hands. Nothing happened on the gondola that could have given away their true kinky natures. They played the part of a romantic, happily married couple to perfection.
She’d asked for culture, and Jason had delivered. Gemma saw art: modern, classical, and old. From the traditional works of the Renaissance period to Cubism, metaphysical, and the abstract. Jason spent much of the time on the gallery seats, watching her peruse the displays or scanning through his messages on his smartphone, slipping back into business mode.
By the time their vacation days had ended, they were exhausted. Sex had been very vanilla, with no trappings of kink: her submission not required and his dominance muted. It had been unhurried, unrushed couplings on the bed, taking turns to touch and kiss. Orgasms had been sweet, nothing forced from her to please him, and his penetration had been delicate and slow moving. At the peak of her fertility, she had wanted him where he belonged, deep inside her.
No matter how much Gemma had focused on enjoying their end-of-holiday romantic break, she missed the kink, the full-on BDSM that had played such a part in their lives for the previous three weeks. If Jason had missed the domination and play, he hadn’t let on. He had reassured her, lying in the hotel bed after she hinted at her mental angst, that all the hormones and neurochemicals that had been buzzing around their bodies were slipping away, oozing out of their neurological systems, leaving them as simple, sensual beings once again. Plain was what she felt by the time they were back at the country mansion, Blythewood House, late Friday evening.
Kinky play continued to be suspended. Her husband wanted a complete break and to concentrate on settling into domesticity. He made love in a perfunctory style, mindful she could still be in a state for conception. However, either work preoccupied him or his libido had subsided. He would never declare it; she read between his vague lines of conversation. Her own sexual engine needed recharging. She felt drained. Their combined weekday working hours would bring a halt to their lovemaking. He wouldn’t be inclined if his mind settled into the frantic pace of business as usual.
Wandering the rooms, she didn’t miss the sex toys or kink. For Gemma, the big drop had been caused by the lack of his control over her: the voice, the intense blue eyes, and the Master persona in all its glory. No more waiting for his instructions or obeying his commands. Instead, she had to plan her own day’s activities, see and do everything without a guiding voice in her ear. She had a hole in her head. A Jason-sized hole, which wouldn’t only have controlled her, it would have calmed her, made her complete and, like an empty glass in the thirsty desert, refilling it remained very necessary.
She’d suffered before with submissive fallouts. When they returned from an intense week’s vacation in New York—their first trip there together—she’d had the blues badly. She’d been so desperate to re-engage him, she went to the lengths of defying her marital vows and enticing him into his Dominant role. The punishment had been severe, and she’d learnt her lesson. This time, she’d fired up her work laptop, sat down, and, with a heavy heart, faced what seemed like a thousand e-mails. Not quite the same as being tied up and used.
The contents of one message had captured her interest. All Saturday evening, until they retired, Gemma re-read the e-mail in her head. Sunday morning came and, shifting her body over to his side of the bed, she lowered her mouth onto him. Then she began to revisit, yet again, everything that had happened since their return.
***
“Gem! Gemma!” His voice inched into her preoccupied brain. “You stopped sucking ages ago. Where are you?”
Jason lifted her head off his semi-erect cock. Her drooling mouth was open and in position, but not active enough for him. She sighed and flopped onto her side next to his languishing form.
“Sorry. Miles away.” She rubbed her bleary eyes with her fingers, ashamed of her lack of attention.
“I guessed that much. Where? Still on Sublime? You need to disembark, darling, mentally and physically.”
She couldn’t adapt to the cooler air and goose bumps rose over her skin. He covered her with a sheet.
“No. Not there. Work, of all things. I read e-mails all yesterday afternoon, while you did yours. Wish I hadn’t.”
She curled up on her side, staring out the window, watching the morning light brighten up the garden. At least her beloved vegetable patch and the contents of the greenhouse had been well taken care of in her absence. Jason spooned around her, his erection diminished by her lack of decent blow job.
“Penny for them?”
“There are loads flying around about a project I was working on before I left. Client turned out to be an awkward one. So Liz and Mick have been picking up the pieces on it and working long hours. It should’ve been me. I feel guilty I wasn’t there to run the show.” Gemma frowned. The three-week absence bothered her—far too long to stay on top of things.
“What do you want to do about it?” He kissed the nape of her neck.
“I thought about inviting my put-upon colleagues back to the White House after work one day. Tea and cakes or something. My way of saying thank you.” She waited for his opinion on the unusual idea of having guests in their London townhouse during the week. Blythewood, the impressive country mansion, had always been their preferred location for entertaining.
“It’s summertime. Why not a barbecue? Brooks would be happy to do the grilling. Speak to him.”
He referred to their butler, a retired soldier who lived in the attic apartment above their townhouse. She and Jason were very fond of the old gent.
He hadn’t dismissed her plan. Relief bubbled up inside her. “Yes, I will. Thanks. It means a lot to me, to be able to show my appreciation.”
“That domesticated nature of yours—must please others! I’m surprised you haven’t entertained work colleagues before now. Daniel, in particular.”
Another pang of guilt—why had she not invited her boss? Jason’s social commitments always seemed to take precedence. Yet, he had never told her she couldn’t invite her co-workers. Daniel, in particular. He’d been a good boss to her and, based upon yesterday’s e-mail, he valued her opinions more than she’d realised.
“Daniel. Yes. Well, there is the other issue. Daniel sent me a confidential e-mail yesterday. Not for discussion with anyone else at work. He’s been appro
ached by a bigger company in the US. They want to merge the two. They would have a European outlet, and Daniel’s firm would benefit from the investment and experience of the other. I don’t need to explain this to you.”
Jason—a man who had made his millions from empire building—was well acquainted with the pros and cons of mergers. “Not a merger. A takeover. Big corporations swallow up smaller ones, unless the brand is stronger in the smaller. Daniel’s company isn’t known in the US.”
“We have a good reputation in the UK and some European countries, too.” Gemma sighed, a lungful of air released through pursed lips.
He gave her waist a little squeeze. “You’re not excited by this? More opportunities, career development. It’s unlikely to result in redundancies. There isn’t much overlap, if it’s a territorial grab.”
He tried to reassure her, but his soothing explanation was missing the point. The whole merger news had made her realise she wasn’t excited about her job. She felt nothing, not even a sense of adventure burning within her. She didn’t want the status quo to change because she was familiar with the work, and that meant she wasn’t interested in developing her career. She preferred to tread water. Gemma pronounced herself twenty-seven-years-old and unambitious. Not what she had envisaged when she graduated.
“Daniel wants me to go to the US with him. Meet the key people in the other company. See what I make of them. He told me he trusts my judgement. My ability to read between the lines. Load of rubbish because my judgement has been appalling—”
Jason clamped his hand over her mouth.
“Don’t. Your abilities in work are excellent. Do not put yourself down. If I suggest you have poor judgement, it is because I push for high standards in you and my criteria for judging you is based on your weaknesses, not your strengths. There is no point striving to improve you in an area you already excel at, is there?” He removed his hand, and she licked her lips. “So, do you want to go with him?”
