“All right. Well used.” I giggled then abruptly stopped. “Are you pleased with me?”
“Gem, you were perfect. Why do you think I wouldn’t be happy?” he whispered.
I sat, uncoiling myself from his clutches. The night air had seeped into the room, and I shivered. “Please may I get dressed?” On the other side of the room, Monique and Judith both had clothes on.
“In a minute.” He dragged me back on his lap, and I perched there rather like a small child. “We’ve been talking about us, that we two been together for nearly five years, and all the time you’ve been my sub in some way or other. Garratt thinks we should have a celebration, something special, perhaps.” He touched my necklace.
“Collaring ceremony? I’m not your slave. We agreed no slave, total-control thing.” I shrank, unsettled by the implication he might want to rule me entirely.
“No, not like that. I mean a symbolic act for us to share with our friends. We were married before our vanilla family and friends, but we’ve never shown our commitment to our other friends.”
“True.” I started to see the appeal. I’d been to a few collaring ceremonies, and each had a uniqueness. “I would like that.”
“Which also means we can deal with an outstanding issue, Gemma. Your piercing. Remember? You offered me a permanent mark on your body. It’s time we did it.”
I cast my mind back to a winter evening when I’d foolishly made contact with a blackmailer. Jason had been furious, sending me spiralling into a panic attack. I’d regretted my stupidity and offered him something I’d normally not consider—piercing. “Yes, Sir. Where did you want it?”
“Your clitoris would be my first choice, but before you start freaking out, I don’t think you are suitable, so it will be your hood instead. Garratt will do it.”
Garratt might be a businessman, but his working life had started differently. He studied medicine and practised for a year as a junior house doctor. A combination of inheriting a small fortune from his deceased grandfather and a keen interest in pharmaceuticals led him to give up medicine, and he built a pharma company from scratch, buying up promising small pharmaceuticals and merging them into a bigger empire, making himself an even greater fortune when he put it on the stock market. His fascination with medicine remained; he simply disliked patients.
Garratt was quite the piercer. He had done many subs, slaves, and other women in
his time, developing a reputation in our community as safe and reliable.
“When?” Faced with a vision of it happening that night, my throat constricted with a wave of panic, and my confidence fractured. “I’m not ready,” I muttered, and my lower lip trembled.
Jason swiftly wrapped the blanket about my shoulders and stroked my back. “Calm. Breathe. You’re still coming down from an intense scene. As Garratt and Damien have suggested a party, you can have your piercing done on the day.”
Garratt’s ears pricked up. “You want me to confirm the location, Jason?”
“Yes,” said Jason. “I was thinking a vertical hood piercing.”
“Gemma, come here, let me see.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath—I was about to be touched in an intimate fashion. An hour earlier, he had done the same thing, part of an amazing erotic experience. Now, as I tiptoed over to him, I felt different. Objectified and humiliated.
I stood in front of Garratt, knelt and presented for inspection, leaning back and jutting my pelvis forward. I’d gone on automatic pilot, too tired to argue or offer resistance. He peered, pulled my labia and hood about with his fingers.
“Yep, it will have to be the hood. Vertical will look lovely on her. A gold ring should catch the light and give you a little buzz, Gemma.” He waved me away with his hand.
A buzz! I hoped it would do more than that and, if it looked sexy then Jason would be thrilled. Perhaps he’d treat me to one with a diamond on the end. My fears began to subside.
“You can get dressed now, Gemma,” said Jason with a nod.
Garratt rubbed his hands together. “So, Jason, are you ready for this celebratory ceremony. Where and when?”
I retrieved my dress from where I’d left it, half-listening to the conversation, desperate for bed.
“Oh, I thought of doing something special. Not here, a few good friends in an idyllic setting. Send Joshua to his grandparents again for a weekend and have lots of fun. Kinky fun.”
“Where, then?” Damien crept forward to the edge of his seat. “Jason, stop fucking teasing.”
“Switzerland. My chalet. The one I recently took back from its long lease. Refitted, too. A holiday home with a lovely little dungeon in the cellar.”
I froze, the dress half over my head, and gawped at my amused husband, reclined in his chair, looking smug. He had never told me about a dungeon!
Chapter 20. The Chalet