“I’m re-thinking my plans as we talk. Back to our room. Now.”
The way he said the last word sounded portentous.
Unlike last night when he held me close to his side, we made our way back to the suite walking apart. He strode ahead of me and I scurried behind trying to keep up. I followed him to the sitting room and he turned to face me. Jason’s face revealed total displeasure.
“You know I don’t like it when you flirt so blatantly in front of me,” his voice cut through me.
We were standing very close to each other and I could sense his rapid hot breath on my face.
“For God’s sake, Jason, I was not flirting. I was chatting to two nice men who had been hiking the day before and we struck up a conversation. It happens. It’s what nice people do.”
I had put my hands on my hips, which riled him further. He pointed a finger at my face.
“Don’t push me, Gemma. You are mine!” His voice was becoming quieter and more intimidating.
“Down!” He demanded, pointing to floor with his finger.
I hesitated. I even took a step back. Something inside me resisted. The sensation spread from an instinctive minor act of rebellion to an all-out act of defiance.
He wanted me to submit to him there in a plush, romantic hotel room where the staff had placed red roses in the vases and chocolates on our pillows. Maybe he wanted to humiliate me; a reminder of my place and his statement of ownership. I had genuinely thought, after his declaration of love, our trip was meant to an amorous weekend away from work and everything else. He said he loved me and yet continued to treat me as his submissive, as and when he chose. I had not consented to being his full-time submissive, not without clearer protocols and boundaries. All the things I should have clarified earlier in our relationship. I was still learning how to define my submission and I was furious with myself for letting my judgement slip up again.
Mentally I screamed and my pulse rate shot up in response. So what was I to him when I was not submitting? Did I provide him with any companionship beyond sex? I was confused and I could not tolerate the emotional pain any longer. The state of affairs could not go on forever. I wanted a more fitting relationship than being his sometime sex slave. He had promised a future together, had he not?
Refusing him was not a trivial matter. To have a little resistance in our play was acceptable if it was a prelude to submission. To be put in my place when I was not in the mood was sometimes necessary when handing over control to another person. I had been taught to deal with those issues by previous doms. To do as I was asked, give gratification and find my submissive qualities as quickly as possible. Once I was there, in the right frame of mind, I was superbly content and at peace with myself. The reason I submitted would become apparent and it was not unusual for me to regret my defiance.
Standing in the hotel room, my refusal was not because I was not in the mood or because I needed to be dragged into a scene. I did not want to submit period. I was not willing. I was not giving my consent. I wanted to confront him and force out of him what he was thinking, feeling and above all else be honest with me.
“No,” I found my voice and stared him straight in the eyes.
He blanched and took a step back as if I had struck him in the face.
“You are defying me?” his voice was laced with vehemence.
“No, Jason, I’ve had enough, that’s what’s happening,” I continued quickly not wanting to lose momentum. “You say you love me and then at a flip of switch treat me as if I mean nothing to you. You said you don’t do 24/7 relationships, that we would be equal outside that room, your room. You implied that we would work towards something, but we’re going nowhere. What is the point of declaring your love to me if i
t is not based on... understanding and ... a sense of purpose.”
I stumbled over my words as my emotions ran high. I held back tears, because they would make me look weak and I needed to hold my ground.
“I can’t be your dominant if you won’t submit to me or follow my rules,” Jason hurled back at me with acidity.
His words riled me. He saw my submission as the issue where as I wanted to talk about love. Our journeys were already taking us in opposite directions.
“What are you going to do about it, Jason? Take me regardless?” My words sank into him like a knife, I did not think I had ever seen him like this. His face was struggling to contain emotions he did not want to show.
“I would never do that to you, Gemma,” he clasped his hands behind his head in exasperation. “I always seek your consent, you know that. What about last week by the fire? You readily sank to your knees in front of me then. I didn’t ask you to, you’re just as contrary with your feelings, pushing yourself on me.”
“You looked so stressed. It had been a difficult week, to put it mildly. I wanted to help you relax, please you. I’m sorry if it made me out to be a pushy bottom. You didn’t complain at the time nor did you ignore me when I asked you to take me to the lair. The scene was everything I’ve come to love about you. You teased me, you pushed me, you were patient and you gave me such amazing pleasure. But I want more. Earlier you said you loved me as we lay by the fireplace. You’d said nothing all week and then you say it to me so sweetly,”
My voice was starting to break. “If that’s not what you truly feel and all you want is to love me when I’m only being your submissive. It is over, Jason. I quit! I’m not going to be turned into your fucked up unloved trophy girlfriend, whatever!!” I spat the words out while the tears started to flow.
“Please find me another room in the hotel I don’t think I can bear to be here with you for another minute. I’m stuck. I’ve nowhere to go. Don’t imprison me in this room too.” I blurted out the request before he could speak.
I looked at him and he was circulating the floor in small circles, hands on hips. He did not look at me and his eyes were on his feet. He said nothing to me and the lack of eye contact was unnerving.
I stood up and taking a tissue from the ornate box on the coffee table, I dried my eyes. Taking my handbag, I turned, headed to the door and left him, not quite banging the door behind me. I stood in the corridor, unsure what to do. I had to move though as I did not want him finding me lurking about outside the room. I headed downstairs and found an armchair in the corner of the library. I stared out of the window, another icy day, but the sun was coming through and making the frosty grass glisten. I was emotionally drained, unable to put together sensible thoughts.
God, what have I done?