During lunch, Louise and I talked about colour schemes, while Ben discussed his thriving business with Jason.
“I might take on an apprentice. What do you think?” Ben asked and Jason obliged him with sensible words of encouragement. Shortly afterwards, we left the pair chatting about redecorating the interior of the house.
Driving back in the car, with Joshua asleep, Jason put his foot down, keen to be back at his desk. Closer to home, we left the main roads and drove through the leafy villages and towns of the Home Counties.
“What do you fancy for dinner?” I asked, striking up a conversation.
“Something with pasta.”
“And then?” I picked at a loose thread on my skirt seam. “It seems like ages since we were last in on a Saturday,” I huffed, rather too dramatically, perhaps.
“I’m going to tie you up and use you. What did you think?” His eyes fixed on the traffic ahead.
I smothered a grin, stared out of the passenger window, and wondered what being “used” would entail. I crossed my ankles and squashed my thighs together, slipping my hands under my bum, as if they were cold and needed warmth. I wanted the quivering fingers out of sight.
The car halted at a set of lights and, reaching over, he pinched my chin, forcing me to turn to face him.
“Don’t hide that pretty smile from me, Gemma.” He let go, reclaiming the steering wheel. “And don’t be ashamed of yourself.”
“I’m not,” I said, but I knew my voice lacked conviction.
“I’m pleased with the women in my life. They’re strong, ambitious, and know what they want. You may be my submissive, but that doesn’t mean you’re incapable of influencing others. You put yourself down again, back at Louise’s, telling me you can’t deal with your own crises. It pisses me off to hear you speak with such denigration about yourself. You twist and turn, like a leaf in the wind. You convinced Ben he could be a good father. Why can’t you convince yourself you can achieve things on your own? My controlling you doesn’t remove your abilities or skills. So, no more of this pathetic ‘I can’t help myself.’ You’re not a fucking puppet, Gemma.”
“You tie me up like one,” I interjected with a degree of disrespect. His words didn’t offend, far from it. He had picked me up and dusted me down in his own peculiar fashion, and he’d done it many times before. It was the fact he was so bloody right about my reservations that peeved.
“I will also discipline you if you use that tone with me again. Fucking you isn’t what this is about. I didn’t give you rules and take control of certain aspects of your life to have you wimp out of dealing with problems and challenges. Quite the contrary, I want you to be able to face them without pessimism.”
“Yes, Master,” I removed my hands from under my legs, sensing the rising dampness in my crotch. “You’re pleased with me?” I was so goddamn needy when he lectured me.
“Yes, of course I am. You were there for my sister. I’m grateful you helped resolve the situation. You’re part of my family, and your advice is as worthy as mine. Once the kid’s in bed, you’re going to cook for me in the nude with your ankles shackled, a plug up your arse, and a ball gag in your gob. Then, in the lair, you’ll prostrate yourself at my feet, ready for a hard spanking. I think that is what you need, isn’t it, babe?”
My insides melted, churned up with gushes of adrenaline and pure excitement. I turned to him and gave him my prettiest smile. “Yes, Master. It is.”
Chapter 13. Well-behaved
Having gained points for helping his sister at the beginning of June, I heralded the arrival of summer by slipping into a phase of sassy Gemma. The rules, so carefully discussed months earlier, began to lose their significance and, with Jason being so busy, I assumed he wasn’t keeping track of them. It led me into being adventurous with their interpretation.
A sultry weekend at Blythewood, and the morning shower gave me a solitary moment alone with my body. Far too tempting a situation for me to ignore indefinitely. I circled the tips of my fingers around my right breast and tweaked my little nipple hard. The warm water cascaded down my cleavage, and I kept my eyes shut, allowing the spray to splash across my upturned face. I repeated the action with my other breast, squishing my flesh as I pinched.
“Gemma!”
I jumped out of my bliss. “Jason!” I found him peering through the condensation on the glass door, his arms crossed and his attention fixed on my wandering hands.
Reaching in, he switched the shower off, and I stood in a puddle, dripping. The coolness hit me immediately, but I ventured the shivering had nothing to do with being cold. Jason’s expression was icy.
“What were you doing?” He glared at my tits, and I snatched my hands away, hiding them behind my back.
“Breast exam. You know, lumps and bumps. I do it once a month. I have a leaflet.” I went to reach for a towel, and he grabbed my wrist.
“Breast exam. With your eyes shut, in the shower? It looked like more than a breast exam to me. It appeared to me you were seeking sensory pleasure without permission.”
“What? No! I’m permitted to take care of my own health issues.” I glowered back, seeking a route for my salvation. How long had he been standing there watching me?
His fingers remained wrapped around my wrist. “Gemma, how many times a week do I touch those breasts?”
I opened my mouth to reply, knowing immediately my answer would be my own condemnation. I said nothing.
“I’m waiting for your answer.”