Chapter 6. The Massage
Gemma’s orgasm made her convulse, pained by the cramps in her belly, and she achieved the desired outcome quickly. For some reason, being held down and finger fucked by Jason was enjoyable and erotic. She moaned with lust, revelling in the powerful orgasm. Only when she came down did she become aware of her desperate need to void her bowels.
“Please, please,” she pleaded at Jason’s amused face.
“Do you need the loo, darling?” he teased.
Frustrated and forgetting herself, she hollered, “Yes, you bastard!”
He shook his head and gave her thigh a hard slap. “Now, you’re going to wait a few minutes longer.”
“Sorry, sorry.” She quickly applied her most supplicant face. “Please, Sir.” In Gemma’s head, the orgasm had been wiped out. All she felt had been the cramping and humiliation of having to beg. Maria stood by, watching Gemma plead with every morsel of her body.
“Very well. Go.” He headed towards the locked door. “You can have your massage,” he added as he held the handle.
She stumbled off the table then paused with her buttocks tightly clenched and inhaled deeply. “Thank you, Sir.” The door slammed shut as she reached the en-suite bathroom.
Returning to the room, Gemma eased her body onto the massage table, taking the time to make herself comfortable.
The humiliation of the enema over, she lay under Maria’s strong fingers, enjoying her massage. Pleasant music, Spanish guitar instrumentals, at Maria’s suggestion, drifted around the room. Well-oiled hands worked down her body, front and back. Gemma was touched everywhere except at the apex of her thighs.
The humiliating enema drifted out of her mind and she latched on to Maria’s brown eyes as the Mexican kneaded her calf muscle.
“How long have you been with Enrique?” she asked.
“Oh, señora, fifteen years, I think.” Maria pressed her thumbs down.
“A long time!”
“I was sixteen. In Mexico, that is not so young. We worked the tourist resorts by the coast. I learnt how to be a beautician, and he would sit on the beach drawing caricatures for rich Americans on vacation.”
“Enrique is an artist?”
“A graphic artist. Back then, he made money doing the beach sketches, or cartoons. Charming and handsome man. Still is. Quiet. Strong. I fell in love straight away. Love at first was very vanilla and natural. He taught me to love myself as much as him. When he asked if he could tie me up and have sex, I simply said yes, and he did. That’s how it began. We were very discreet and knew nobody else who did those things.”
“You were still sixteen?” Gemma frowned.
“Eighteen, señora. Young, yes, but he didn’t abuse me. He is very honourable. He got into trouble with my family, though. They didn’t see him as a suitable match. We had to leave the country quickly and crossed the border into California. One community welcomed us, and from them, we found out we were not alone. We observed, and with these kind, friendly people, we found sanctuary. Enrique became skilled with rope, and I learnt to use my mouth and hands.”
Gemma enjoyed the benefit of Maria’s hands. The relaxing massage loosened her stiff muscles. “How did you end up doing this kind of work, for Jason?”
“We didn’t have the right papers, and it was difficult getting work. Enrique dr
ew cartoons or graphic comics for local newspapers. He started to do erotica, graphic stories, and published them online. The money helped, and his name became known to those who like that kind of thing. I went to people’s houses and gave them massages and beauty treatments. One day, a wealthy man like your husband asked if we would wait on them at a party. A fetish party. So we did, and the money was good. It grew from there. Private parties and functions.” Maria paused and asked Gemma to turn. She massaged her shoulders, twisting her fingers around to ease the tension in Gemma’s neck.
“Mmmm, very nice,” murmured Gemma. “How did Jason find you?”
“I don’t know. He knows many people. He asked us to come and join him on a cruise here in the Med. In return, he offered to find us a new, legitimate life in Spain. We jumped at the opportunity and spent two weeks on this yacht. Your husband was young, in his mid-twenties, I should think. Like many men who suddenly discover wealth, it went a little to his head, and he became wild and playful. The first trip, he invited men and women, a mix of our kind. For the duration, this yacht was a fuck boat. I can tell you….”
“Go on, Maria,” Gemma said with a determined tone. She wanted to know; she had to know more about her husband. He would never tell her.
“As I said, Señora, he was young. The yacht, chartered for him. He had no interest in the cruise, only the girls. There were demanding, difficult scenes, you understand? The next three times were different. He came with a couple, a Mr. Bradley and Miss Wainwright?”
“Yes, I know them. Garratt and Judith. They’re friends.” More than friends. Garratt and Jason co-owned a BDSM nightclub called the Nightshade, an exclusive haunt for the wealthy. The conservative décor and formal etiquette so different from the clubs where she chose to dance or meet other kinky people. Her first visit had been a daunting occasion. She’d met Judith, Garrett’s long term partner and consensual slave. Many years ago, Judith had shared Jason’s bed. Gemma had initially resented the other woman’s involvement with Jason, even though it had long finished. Given the circumstances, her friendship with Judith had taken time to develop. Now, they were close. “Who was with Jason?”
“Different girls. I don’t recall their names. To be honest, he didn’t talk to them much. By then, he had bought this boat and added his own features. The wild young man had gone, replaced by a very wealthy one; you could tell by the way he expected everything to happen without asking for it. Bodyguards, this time, too. I saw a businessman seeking relaxation and escape from work. Señor Lucas was subdued. He was, the word...alooth?”
“Aloof. Distant?” corrected Gemma.“Sí. We served him and the couple. Enrique likes to watch. It gives him ideas for his comics, his drawings.”