A birthday fuck—a sacrificial offering. Sex with her Dominant on her birthday was destined to be rough and frantic. Speared on his hardness, she couldn’t come any more. She couldn’t see Jason, only hear a form of guttural noises, his panting grunts, as he found his pleasure deep inside her. He used her bound wrists like a handle to cling onto as his inflexible shaft pounded. She could feel and hear his bare hips slapping against her buttocks. She groaned with unconcealed desire at the thought of him there, naked in all his glory. He took his time, changing pace and depth, sometimes dipping gently, other times, thrusting hard.
Gemma was pinned down by his weight, and half-listening to the creaking table joists as her voracious husband pummelled her until a frenzy of liquid deliverance spurted out of him onto her back. Jason came with a volcanic orgasm, erupting onto her skin in fiery surges. She ventured she would remember little of it afterwards.
No pain. Sensations, blurred and impossible to define in words. She floated about the room in a paradise of her own making. She had been taken to another place, the submissive heavenly space where she could live out minutes or hours if left unguarded and unprotected from her own loss of self-awareness. Gemma didn’t care one jot.
Thankfully, for the duration of their frantic kitchen sex, Joshua hadn’t woken up. If he had, Gemma doubted whether either Jason or her could easily have extracted themselves and been capable of dealing with an irate, tearful baby. The test never arose. He leaned over her, beads of sweat dripping down on to her shoulders, panting with his exertions. He removed her bindings, along with the gag and blindfold. Gemma blinked in the bright lights, and her legs wobbled.
“I don’t think I can w
alk,” she muttered. “You’ve killed my legs, Jason.”
“Stay there.”
She remained bent over the table, listening to Jason put away her new toy in its box then he removed it from the room. When he returned, he had her robe, a damp cloth, and towel. She was starting to shiver; the cool air, which she’d barely noticed, now felt icy.
He bathed her back, between her legs, and towel dried her. Wrapping the robe around her shoulders, he packaged her ready to be carried upstairs to bed. The next thing she remembered was sinking into the mattress then nothingness.
The Sybian took its rightful place in the lair that weekend. She had another session with the device on the Friday evening, and he played the scene differently to her first experience. It was no longer her toy, it was his. Perched on the table, he flogged her all over, denied her an orgasm then he allowed her to come while simultaneously yanking off a zipper of clothes’ pegs attached to her tender flesh. Throughout, he offered her teasing words and praise in equal measure. That demanding session with the Sybian didn’t alter the fact she loved the damn thing; she just had to become accustomed to the way Jason liked using it.
Chapter 24. Playing Games
Joshua turned one year old on the Monday. The relatives descended on Blythewood on the Sunday, armed with presents and “hasn’t he grown” comments. Therefore, on Monday, Gemma and Jason kept the day low-key, with Jason finishing work early. They took Joshua to a fun ceramic shop and let him loose, making colourful handprints on plates and mugs. Jason constantly mopped the paint off his son’s hands, struggling to suppress his natural desire to keep everything clean and tidy. Afterwards, they had cake at a café, and Joshua added jam and cream to the collection of grubby marks.
A year old. She no longer measured her life in her years, but those of her son. Next year, she would be thirty, which was a year younger than Jason had been when she met him, but even so, it made her feel ancient. Before she had even reached the milestone, her body was changing. She filled out with an extra fatty layer, making it harder to maintain her slim figure. Her skin required more nourishment and moisturisers. A tooth needed filling, resulting in an extension on her chocolate ban. She inflicted the gym on herself to counteract the faults in her body’s form and core strength. Jason’s regime of healthy food, exercise, and mental discipline had rubbed off onto her. She was determined to stay youthful for him and their child.
Maggie sent Joshua a birthday card. Gemma hadn’t spent as much time in the company of her former obstetrician as she would have liked. They regularly exchanged e-mails, which kept Maggie in touch with Joshua’s progress. Maggie called him “one of her babies”, meaning one she had helped deliver. Gemma continued to be fond of the doctor and her nonjudgemental approach to Gemma’s unorthodox lifestyle.
***
Tuesday arrived, bleak and cold. Payday again for their anonymous blackmailer. Terrace houses, tall and rendered in white, surrounded the small square patch of grass with its high hedges and the odd tree. The park specified in the blackmail note was located in a relatively affluent part of the city. Gemma peered out of the car window. The houses reminded her of Piedmont, Jason’s old townhouse. She didn’t miss the stark bachelor pad.
She turned away from the glass and faced her husband. “We’re about to give her another thousand pounds, Jason. Gemma Marshall won’t have that kind of money. I would be asking for leniency by now.” He wouldn’t understand.
“Quite true, so there is only five hundred pounds and a begging note, written in Gibson’s hand, asking for more time. That will hopefully draw her out and give an indication if she is desperate for money or simply holding power over you.”
She’d guessed wrong. He did understand. “If Raven is a Domme, I can tell you the answer. Anyway, I don’t think this is Emily’s game.” She wished she could remember more about Emily and her ethics.
“Remember, dump and run,” said Jason, ignoring her last remark.
Gibson strode into the area of greenery and sat on a bench pretending to read a magazine while eating an apple. A simple bystander and unobtrusive. Gemma glanced at her wristwatch. The instructions stated 2:00 p.m., which was plenty of time before the dance class. Jason handed her the sealed envelope, which had been stuffed with notes, and she shoved it into her coat pocket. With a deep breath, she climbed out of the back of the car and made her way over to the path leading into the park.
She couldn’t see Emily or Raven, so she walked over to the unappealing, solitary waste bin. Glancing around one last time, she dropped the envelope onto the top of the rubbish pile and dashed off—mission accomplished. Scurrying along the pavement, she couldn’t deny a dash of exhilaration in her humdrum life of motherhood made for an adventurous day.
Back in the car with Jason, she released a long exhale.
“Well done.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly. He’d taken more time off work to deal with the threat. It meant a lot to her that he took it so seriously and personally, too. His efficiently run company could manage without its CEO.
With Martinson up front, the trio surveyed the park, waiting.
About quarter past the hour, Emily appeared with her hands shoved in her leather jacket pockets and her shoulders stooped. Her clothing seemed inefficient to keep her warm and, yet again, she wore her high heels. She went straight to the bin, ignoring Gibson who tossed the apple into a nearby bush and rolled up the magazine. A weapon! Surely, it wouldn’t involve that kind of trouble. Gemma couldn’t imagine Emily being violent. With the retrieved envelope clutched in hand, Emily headed off.
She didn’t manage more than a few paces when Gibson accosted her.
The confrontation proved tense. Emily stood rigid. Frozen to the spot. Gemma could see the tension in her body from as far away as the parked car. The nervous woman shook her head fervently several times, hugging the envelope to her chest. She backed away from Gibson, turned and ran off as fast as her high heels could take her. Gibson didn’t pursue Emily. Instead, she trotted over to the car and slipped into the front seat next to Martinson.
Gemma leant forward, desperate to know what had been said. Gibson turned to speak over her shoulder. “I asked her to come with me and that I knew she’s involved in blackmailing Gemma. She said if she didn’t get back, things would escalate. It is out of my hands—her exact words. Emily stated she must take the money within the hour and then she’d been instructed to leave another envelope in Mrs Lucas’s bag at the dance academy this afternoon. If she didn’t, things would get worse.”
“More money?” exclaimed Gemma. She stared out of the car window, to where she’d last seen Emily scurrying away. “She looked terrified.”