by Jaye Peaches
Gemma tried to take the positive from Jason’s words, but it proved difficult. He often accused her of having poor judgement. Judgement in her trusting of strange people, of situations, and her safety. Yes, she could be pretty crappy at evaluating certain things. Was she a poor judge in the work environment? She didn’t think so. She knew in advance when a client was going to be good to deal with or a bad experience. She handled people with efficiency, and both colleagues and clients referred to her as affable and easy to talk to, with a sense of humour to break the ice, and competence in her areas of expertise. She started to understand why Daniel might want to take her with him. The depressing thought was, she couldn’t be bothered.
“To be honest, Jason, I’m not interested in asset analysis anymore. Equations, formulae, charts, numbers, and bullet points. I’ve seen so much more of the world these past few weeks, I’m filled with scenery, ambience, and colours. I want to be painting, exploring what is trapped in my head, and to put it on paper or canvas. All those sights call to me. The conversation we had in Genoa about my mother? She didn’t have a chance to live out her artistic dreams, and here I am doing the same thing.”
Gemma turned over to face him. His expression was attentive and thoughtful. He ran a finger down her cheek.
“Building an atelier?”
“Yes. That was part of my plan. But I think I need to go beyond a hobby. I want more.” She bit her lip.
Unknown to Jason, when he had been demanding of her on holiday, when he caused her pain or used her beyond her capacity to respond with her own pleasure, she took refuge in her plans. While he spanked her hard on their last night on the yacht, she’d had a vision. A better place to be and far more fulfilling than her office on Monday morning.
“I was thinking, instead of trying to find an art gallery to exhibit my work, I should open my own. Not just for my stuff, but for other budding artists, too. Maybe approach the universities and colleges, the art faculties, and set up a foundation. Provide grants for the younger talent out there. I could help foster them by making use of the money you have gifted me. What do you think?” She held her breath.
“I think it is an excellent idea, Gem. Why wouldn’t I? If it makes you happier, then why would I not be supportive?” His smile rekindled a heart-melting buzz inside.
“Oh, thank you!”
Her despondent mood lifted. “It wouldn’t make much money….”
“Gem. I never expected you to make money for me. That’s what I do. You give back to me in other ways. You know this. What do you want to do next?”
She needed his support to help her realise her dreams—her husband, the planner.
Sitting up, she tapped a finger on her leg, trying to capture everything flying in and out of her head. “Concentrate on the atelier. The designing and construction of it. I need to build my portfolio, practise, and get all of these images into a tangible form. Research the galleries. Those fancy boutique galleries in New York have given me food for thought.”
Jason leaned back on the headboard. “This company that Daniel is in discussions with, is it New York based?”
“Connecticut.”
“Not far away. Why not go with Daniel? Be supportive of him—you owe him the courtesy, if he respects you. Make the most of the trip and see some more galleries in New York. Ask their advice. They’re not going to see you as a competitor all the way over here.”
“Yes, Yes!”
A surge of adrenaline coursed through her. She bounced the rest of the way out of her drop, springing back into a joyous state. Jason took charge in his own subtle way—pushing her, guiding her.
He continued. “In fact, I have to go to my New York headquarters next week. Why not treat Daniel to a flight on my private jet?”
Her eyes widened. “You would do that?” She had never asked Jason to use his status as CEO to further her own career. She preferred he kept his wealth, and influence, distinct from her own working life.
He smirked. “I suppose there are spare seats—”
Her mouth landed on his. She couldn’t stop herself. The need to be close to him, loving him, reigned supreme.
His cock jerked under her, and she remembered her act of neglect. Creeping down his torso, she shuffled back into position. She began with a long lick, from soft balls up the veined shaft and into his little slit. His erection sprang up by her face. She slid her tongue down, coiling around his velvety cock like a serpent about the trunk of tree. He emitted a groan, a delightful accompaniment. Opening her mouth wider, she enveloped him, consumed his smooth head, and trapped him between her moist lips.
Bobbing up and down, she devoured him with gentle sucks.
He scooped up her hair, twizzling the locks until they bunched in his fist. She felt the telltale sting in the scalp. Then he grasped her hair with both hands, creating handles. As she drew in a lungful of air, he pulled her down into his groin, forcing her mouth wider and his cock deeper. Held down, she spluttered, trying to relax her throat. She attempted to raise her head—a painful tug on her scalp prevented her.
She gripped the sheet beneath her. Taut skin stretched over her knuckles as she held her breath. He removed his hands, their weight gone in an instant. Gasping, she tossed back her head, letting her hair topple about her shoulders. She looked straight ahead at her husband. He reclined, his hands tucked behind his head, interlocked, his eyes closed, long lashes flickering.
“Good girl,” he murmured. “Don’t stop, or I might give you another helping hand.”
She didn’t mind his quip. Curling a lock of hair behind her ear, she bent over him. His glistening cock, smeared with her saliva, beckoned. Grinning, she licked the bulbous end with the tip of her tongue.
“Gemma!” His lids remained closed, but his voice lifted at the end of her name. “Don’t tease.”
On the second occasion, she considered her blow job perfect. He made an exclamation, which was delightful to hear, as he came deep in her throat. He then reciprocated with his mouth on her sex. Treating her to all his oral skills with nips, sucks, and a darting tongue in her pussy. His dalliances triggered a stupendous orgasm that had been waiting to happen since their return. She arched her back and curled her toes until they cramped.
A tear slipped down the side of her temple.
“Why the tear?” he murmured wiping it away.
“I’m so happy.” Ecstatic. Every nerve ending seemed to be alight with electricity.
“Good.”
A wicked grin curved his lips upwards.
“Because,” he continued, “if we had been in play this morning, the day would have begun so differently. Your first blow job warranted a good spanking for lack of attention and failing to provide me with pleasure. It goes to show that having a subdrop is important sometimes. Don’t you think?”
She stared at him in amazement—such an insightful man, or maybe she just wore her emotions on her sleeve. He might not have known the contents of her e-mails, but he’d known she would come crashing down to earth that weekend. This time, unlike after their New York vacation, he had been prepared. She couldn’t fault his learning style. He had remembered and had been waiting for her to open up to him.
Chapter 2. A Week Later
To Gemma’s delight, on the following Friday evening, Jason announced they would do a short scene in his dungeon lair at Blythewood. It heralded a return to their normal routine. Friday and Saturday evenings, she became his submissive for the duration of his planned scene. Beyond those times, he could call upon her if she consented to the role. She had the right to decline, although she rarely did. As well as being his part-time submissive, she had sworn to obey him as his wife. Not something he drew upon often, and only when it pertained to her safety.
Entering the windowless ground-floor room, they re-acquainted themselves with their own personal play space, the familiar layout and rituals. Naked, Gemma knelt by his divan while waiting for him to arrive and, with minimal conversation between them, he issued his e
xacting instructions. He tied her to the St. Andrew’s cross for a mild sensory flogging and teasing, followed by bondage on the bed for his much-needed rougher sex. Orgasm denial came back into play—during the cruise, she had been given the freedom to come when she wished. With gentle patience, he didn’t leave her too long unrequited. Nudging her to hold her orgasm and making her wait, he brought her to the brink and tipped her over with a vibrating wand.
His arm wrapped about her waist, she meandered upstairs to the master bedroom with a satisfied glow. Back home, all felt right in the world, even if she had work issues on her mind.
Saturday night arrived, and Gemma dressed up in her club attire, cinched corset and leather skirt, plus lacy stockings, crotchless knickers, and the all-important collar necklace with its pendant J hanging from the chain. Ferried by one of Jason’s regular drivers to the Nightshade Club—a typical house hidden in suburbia, which served as a private BDSM club for the wealthy—they mingled and gossiped with the other members.
The antiquated Edwardian décor and leather seating, had once intimidated Gemma. The deep-crimson wallpaper, striped with green, along with the thick oak doors and chandelier wall lights, had seemed too ornate and heavy in tone. Over the years, she had come to like the shades, and the additional kinky furniture didn’t seem out of place amongst the interior.
She knelt at Jason’s feet and spoke at length about their cruise to their Dominant and submissive friends. Gemma felt at home with the surroundings and etiquette of the place. They spent an hour or so wandering the communal area, watching others’ scenes and play. They witnessed nothing extreme and certainly no intercourse, not in that area of the club.
Jason took her to his preferred private room, and when she opened the door for him, he nudged her back as she halted on the threshold. Monique—a professional submissive hired by the club—was positioned, naked, on the floor in the ready pose of a service slave.
Gemma said nothing as Jason instructed Monique to strip his wife naked. Her lack of words failed to hide her apprehension. Her fingers shook as she helped Monique with the corset and avoided looking at her, as if it would make her presence real.
The girl’s attendance mortified Gemma. So soon after her first adventure into bringing another submissive into their play…she wished she could read Jason’s mind sometimes. Not that he’d said he wouldn’t do such a scene. They had discussed it on the flight home from their cruise, part of a lengthy debriefing session conducted in the jet’s sleeping compartment. She’d agreed she was capable of doing more, accepted it would be something he would do from time to time. Her gentle scenes with Maria on Sublime had been the testing ground. Now he wanted to take things further and ensure she didn’t change her mind about experimenting with her newly discovered versatility.
He flogged the pair of them, tied to a suspended rope, face to face, with breasts knocking against each other. The suede flogger swung back and forth, crashing into each woman in turn. Gemma wriggled with the smarts, while Monique remained still. In such close proximity, it remained impossible to avoid catching her eyes. The dark-haired girl, with broad lips and high cheekbones, gave Gemma a beaming smile of welcome. As if to say it was all right—she could do this. She could, and she did, mirroring the other submissive’s stance and hypnotic trance.
Having another join their play wasn’t as bad as Gemma had anticipated. With no intercourse permitted between him and the other sub, it remained sensual, playful and erotically charged for all involved, as demonstrated by the occasional laughter or delighted squeal.
Gemma didn’t hesitate once to carry out his orders, knowing it pleased him. She held her orgasms as Monique used her mouth, licking and sucking on her tender clitoris. When she gave Jason oral gratification, Gemma kept focused on his face, staving off her own climax while he nurtured his.
Towards the end, he rewarded them both with a vibrating wand.
“Simultaneous, please. Oh, share the wand, don’t take turns.”
There were a few giggles while she and Monique tried to work out how to use the toy to achieve simultaneous orgasms and comply with Jason’s instructions. He watched with amusement reclining on the sofa, an ornate chaise longue, as they dared each other to come first.
Gemma whispered, “You come first.”
Monique shook her head with tiny movements. “No, you.”
Jason leaned forward and grabbed their ponytails.
“When I say simultaneous, I mean the word. Controlled, synchronized orgasms for my entertainment. No faking, or I’ll whip the pair of you.”
Her scalp stinging, Gemma swallowed her laughter. Sometimes, her husband wore a mantle of dominance that raised him to a different level. She paused to admire his style—dark suit, the tie slightly loosened, and gold cuff links shining in the diffuse lighting. He fed her fantasies as much as his own, giving her the scenario she often sought but could never define with words: a suave man, relaxed in his environment, with two naked women at his feet submitting to his wicked charms and seductive, yet firm, tone.
Blinking with uncertainty, Monique and Gemma stared at each other, trying to work out how they were going to do as Jason asked. Monique, in the end, had the experience Gemma lacked when it came to this type of play.
“You go for it, Gemma. I can follow your lead. Tell me when you’re close.”
Gemma nodded in agreement. Monique, being the kind of professional sub who played in sexual ménages, held back until Gemma panted with her impending climax. They managed it within a few seconds of each other, which Jason found acceptable—he applauded with a few claps and grinned. He took the device off them as they lay at his feet—sweaty, naked girls with a wet patch under their bums.
“Well done, Monique. Go and find someone else to play with.” She scooted from the room, leaving Gemma with him.
She could see before her a fired up and keen Master who wanted his submissive for more fun and play. All the signs were present, including the renewed bulge in his pants. She rested her trembling hands on her thighs. For a few minutes, he knelt behind her and trailed his mouth and fingers about her. A cocoon of succulent kisses landed about her neck, shoulders, and cheeks as she tilted her head back.
Jason browsed the menu of kinky options stashed away in a modest cupboard and selected his choices. He told her to lie on the leather-padded table on her belly. Tying her in place with ropes about her ankles and wrists, he stepped away and returned with a Crock-Pot of purple wax. No lighted candles were permitted in the private rooms; they set off the smoke detectors. Heating up the wax, he blindfolded her, and then proceeded to trail wax over her back and haunches.
She tried to wriggle and squirm, but her bonds held firm, and, in the end, she drifted off and lay still. Murmurs passed her lips, and she giggled or yelped when he came close with the hot liquid. He coated her with droplets then he stripped and scrambled onto the table to position himself above her. The wax smudged between them as he lifted himself in and out of her.
Gemma, in her own world of bliss, loved him being above her, dipping in and out. He gripped her shoulders, and she bore as much of his weight as she could before grunting in discomfort. Untying her, he had her bend over the table as he eased back into her sleek pussy. He flicked the wax off her back, making her flinch, and her fingers clutched the table edge.
“Fuck, please,” she moaned.
Her ponytail must have been an alluring temptation. He pulled her head back with it, sending shots of pain along her scalp until they tingled across her scorched body and down to her pussy. She tightened about his thrusting cock, and he came, spurting his sticky residue inside. He slapped her thighs and told her to come. Counting down from three, she exploded as he whispered “one” into her ear. She pulsated about his diminished cock, and it seemed to reinvigorate him.
“Ah yes,” he growled. “You’re making me so hard tonight, baby. I’m not finished.”
Gemma slumped on the table as he eased out of her. Exhausted, she blinked in the brigh
t light as he slipped off the blindfold.
“Fucked too much?” he smirked. “Well, don’t worry. All you need do his stick that gob of yours on me and suck away. Not too hard is it?”
Gemma grinned, her eyes dopey and half-open. “Sure, no problem, can do that in my sleep. You’re easy.”
The spanking he gave her for being flippant was what she wanted. On her mental list of options, being spanked hard with a paddle was invigorating, liberating, and perversely relaxing. The smack of the leather against flesh and her humbled shrieks filled the room, as blow after blow rhythmically landed on her taut skin. Already dripping with leakage, she added more to the mess and felt it trickle down her thigh, showing him her pleasure at being spanked.
“Such a hussy,” said Jason, fingering her slit. “No more for this, though. You’ve had your fill.”
Gemma whimpered in frustration. Twisting her body around, she gazed at her naked husband. A statue of fine musculature, smooth skin still bronze from the cruise, and sun-bleached golden hair, tousled about his face. His blue eyes glimmered in the light, in the same way her own green ones did when she caught her reflection in a mirror. Both of them blessed with a richness of colour, although Jason’s pierced far beyond her own.
He stabbed her with those eyes as she licked about her lips, reminding him she was ready to service him. Tossing her light-brown hair about, she jutted her bottom out, an act of enticement that goaded him into spanking her more, accompanied by words of admonishment at her slutty behaviour.
Gemma delivered all that he required: spread legs, pussy on display with glistening swollen sex—bare and unadulterated by hairs—bottom raised, fingers clenched about the table edge, and her moans, ones of genuine discomfort and reckless abandonment. On and on, he landed the paddle, switching from one cheek to other, landing on her sit-spot with accuracy, occasionally stopping to rub down her cheeks, caressing away the pain with his long fingers and warm palm.
