One firm thigh supported her pelvis and, to add to her capitulation, he wrapped his other leg over the back of her naked thighs. Gemma focused on her breathing. She took her time to centre her thoughts, to find a place to go to where she could process the pain.
“Consider this spanking a reminder. I want you to understand I will not tolerate lapses with regard to your safety. To place your own greedy needs for attention above that of your importance to me. Your gift of your body will not be frittered away by reckless actions. Do you have anything to say?”
“I’m very grateful for your attention, to bring this to me, and I accept the reason why.”
Jason rubbed oil into her skin before starting. The sun had dried out her skin, increasing the risk of it cracking. She expected to drift away, to find somewhere to escape the pain. It usually required her to be at peace with herself and not fighting him. There, in her submissive headspace, she would be floating, and he would enjoy the sight of her under his control.
She brought into play her initial techniques for processing pain. She recited poems, essays, and mathematical formulas with their bright colours. The new places, the exotic locations of their holiday, filled her imagination until the pain broke through. She tried to think of the paintings she wanted to create, and it led her to the realisation she wanted to paint in an environment suited to her desires. She started to formulate her ideas as she grunted, writhing on his lap and twisting her body away from him.
The flat of his hand landed rhythmically and moved from one buttock to the next without pausing. Heat became burning, as he increased the velocity and power of his smacks. If his own hand hurt, he didn’t waver. She could feel the bones in her pelvis jar on a few occasions as he landed on her sit-spot. Her breasts shook as she tried to rise up and meet his descent, shorting the distance. Jason’s response was to push her back down. No escape.
Gemma could no longer think. The time for running away from pain ended. She wanted to be back there with Jason. She had been so foolishly disconnected from him. The night of the attack, she had failed to be there with him and, during the spanking, she did the same again. He wasn’t punishing her, nor even disciplining her. He intended, desired, to bring her back under his wing, his protection and sanctuary. Gemma let out a groan of recognition, at her faults and her needs. They intertwined, knotted together. When she was needy, instead of focusing on Jason and keeping him central to her thoughts, she became impulsive and bratty. She was doing it again, seductively bent over his lap while he smacked her bottom repeatedly.
“Oh, fuck,” she muttered. “Please, give me more.”
I’m crazy! She hadn’t wanted to be spanked and had even dreaded it. Then it became all she desired. The nature of his blows changed the moment she asked for more. The smacks lightened,
swung almost softly against her, and they no longer burned into her tender flesh. He slowed his pace, and between thuds, his hand teased, pinching and nipping her. Different sensations.
To her delight, Jason caressed and rubbed the singed flesh, distributing the discomfort.
“There, my subbie, let it go,” he whispered. “I’m well pleased with you.”
The trauma of the knife attack melted away, the fear of how close she had come to being abducted from a nightclub shrank back, and then came the relief. Jason was pleased with her.
“Please, Master, please.”
Jason understood her pathetic pleading. It wasn’t that she wanted him to stop, she wanted him to take her to her edge, her boundary, and let her float away.
“Go, babe,” he murmured, and she did with each expert swing of his hand.
With every flick of his wrist, she had felt a thud. Her mind dissociated from her body, but not from his presence. If anything, she felt closer to him. Nothing hindered the metamorphosis from stress to relaxation.
A patter of blows landed like raindrops, almost indiscernible, and her bottom glowed. She went to her place of subspace, her shoulders slumped as any sense of rational thought vaporised. She barely moved as he rubbed her down. She held unshed tears in her eyes, kept at bay until she could shed them.
“I’m stopping, Gemma.”
The tears flowed from her eyes at his words. A continuous stream fell down her cheeks. He ended it, but she didn’t want him to. She lay on the bed while he applied the arnica cream. The coolness smeared about her soreness. Coming out of subspace, she tried to curl up into a ball, shivering uncontrollably, but he wouldn’t let her, instructing her to lie on him. Belly to belly, her head on his chest, so she could hear his heart and follow the pattern of his calm breathing. For half an hour, he caressed her unblemished skin and spoke softly to her about the plans for Venice.
“We’ll pack tomorrow and disembark. The hotel is located behind St Mark’s Square. Tomorrow evening, we will go to the opera. There are the obligatory gondolas. No doubt we will visit an art gallery of your choice. Plenty to keep you occupied.”
Gemma lifted her head. “It all sounds wonderful. Don’t forget shopping! I have gifts to buy for friends and family. Wouldn’t do for a billionaire’s wife to return home empty handed. So, we say good-bye to Sublime and its crew tomorrow. You said you would release me once we left the yacht.”
“I did, and I will. Once we’ve disembarked, we will be plain vanilla Mr and Mrs Lucas, holidaying in Venice. Lubinsky will remain with us. Remy will return to France. We’ll fly back to England on Friday evening and have a weekend at Blythewood. Then back to the grindstone of work.”
He traced a finger down her spine. Her breathing slowed, the trembling diminished, and she felt relaxed, content, and erotically charged. Throughout the spanking, she had felt him test her, check her status, and she knew her body had betrayed her. It usually did.
“I’m going to fuck you now. Then you can sleep.”
“I’m yours.”
As the heat dispersed from her raging buttocks, another warmth consumed her flesh—the heat of passion. His thumb made slow, circular motions around her clitoris and, as he pressed, he lit a spark inside her. A small fuse burnt and spread its ignition around her body. From between her legs, up into her pert breasts, and down her inner thighs, forcing her legs to part in eagerness.
An erotic switch, one Jason could flick whenever he wished, and she couldn’t help responding to it. With its power, he added his voice, his piercing blue eyes, and the pressure of his hardening cock against her leg. All of those things caused Gemma to catch her breath.
Her juices flowed as his thumb twisted and turned. Then his fingers grasped her pussy lips, squeezing them. Grabbing her hips, he pulled her pelvis up. A shriek left her mouth, and her toes curled. He lay on top of her. He dragged her wrists above her head and then ground his stiff cock into her belly. Pre-cum smeared over her skin as he trailed his unbridled erection up between her breasts. In response, she dropped her lower jaw and stuck out her tongue to receive him. Sitting astride her head, he lowered himself into her mouth and fisted his hands her hair.
“Fuck this!” he growled.