“What happened to him, Jason?” asked Dad. “I can’t believe you’d let him get away with this.”
Jason stirred, took my hand, and drew me back to his side. “I had people looking for him. Unfortunately, he did rape again.”
I bit my lip. “Trudy, Mum. He raped Trudy to get at me. He couldn’t find me, so he used her.”
Mum’s face went pale again. Trudy’s mum, Diane, and she were old friends. “Oh my God. Diane said Trudy’s rapist died.”
“He did,” confirmed Jason. “He came to abduct Gemma with the help of another woman, a colleague of hers. It was the night of my company’s winter ball. The man killed that night on the street outside the hotel was the rapist.”
“I remember reading about it in the newspapers, but saw no mention of Gemma.” Dad scratched his head and puffed out his lips.
“Because I put out injunctions to stop her name being published, in order to protect her anonymity. Since the man died, we never told the police about Gemma’s rape. I didn’t want her exposed to any further trauma by way of police interviews or inquests. The police connected him to other attacks through his DNA. He was a predatory rapist, befriending and charming; he showed nothing of his true persona until he attacked.”
I struggled to contain my nightmares, closed my eyes and snatched breaths. No more now. Please. No more.
“Gemma has had enough for today. She has panic attacks, like the one earlier. Babe?” Jason murmured in my ears.
“Can we go for a walk?” I asked. I needed open space with fresh air—my sanctuary away from the claustrophobia of unwanted memories and emotions.
Along the footpaths, my parents walked in silence. Jason pushed the sleeping Joshua as we wandered about the innocuous, nondescript housing estate. I needed an inconsequential afternoon’s stroll. Gradually, we started to chat about other things: my art gallery, Dad’s locum work, Joshua’s silly antics, and my niece Evie—blessed, reassuring family chatter.
By the time Jason and I departed, I’d confined my rape to the back pages of my life, until, driving home in the semi-darkness it, hit me—the guilt of keeping my rape secret from my parents and still keeping secrets from them. I wept silently and, when Jason offered to pull over, I begged him to keep going. I wanted to be home.
I would never tell my parents about our kinky world of domination and submission. They would find my consent to such a life an alien concept and unbelievable scenario given the violent incident in my past. Some things were best left unsaid, but at least Mum wouldn’t be frivolous when she spoke of sex, if she ever did again.
We drove straight to the White House and put the exhausted Joshua down in his cot. Jason herded me into bed, not stopping to check his emails or prepare for the next day’s work. Stripping me naked, he sent me to my place of refuge with his usual breath
-taking skills. I offered him every inch of my body for his pleasure and, in return, he made sublime love to me, curing my woes and washing away the day’s stresses.
Chapter 25. Switching
The week before my gallery opening was going to be tough with long, arduous days and no time to escape for exercise or to attend my dance class. I had to settle Mina into her new role, since she’d finished working her notice. Moreover, on Monday, I had a heated debate with my exhibition manager, Nicholas. The graduate had his own ideas about presenting the displays. Keen and eager to make his mark, he picked holes in my plans. I wondered if I’d employed the wrong person.
The problem unearthed my rusty working mentality. I was out of practice with being assertive in the workplace. As Nicholas droned on, I bent like a willow in the breeze, unable to fashion a rigid argument to counter his. Staring around the building, taking pride in my achievement, I put my foot down and told him to do what I asked. Remarkably, he knuckled down without any further quibbles. At the end of the day, we had a frank conversation about my expectations, and he confessed he was nervous and thought he should be showing his worth in some robust way. I reassured him I valued his opinions, but perhaps the week before the opening wasn’t the best time to impress me with his enthusiasm.
Monday, I thought, had ended better than it began. Jason then reminded me he’d invited Mark for dinner the next day. My stress levels rose, but Jason had been adamant about Mark visiting, and I could do little to persuade him otherwise.
Dragging myself out of bed on Tuesday morning, I left instructions to Brooks about what to cook and ran through Joshua’s latest behavioural issues with Clara, agreeing upon an approach to stop him sticking things up his nose.
While Mina fought with the cash-till and printers and Nicholas finalised the catalogues, I fumed. The last thing I wanted to do that evening was entertain my accountant on behalf of my husband. Malcolm distracted me with questions about where to hang paintings.
Jason and Mark arrived straight from work, which, I suppose, I had done, too, except I’d put Joshua to bed, made the final preparations for the dinner, changed out of my sweaty clothes, and showered, before dressing up. Jason had collected Mark from Gliech and brought him home. They were already chatting about the stock market when I dashed into the hallway to greet my husband.
I stood on tiptoe and pecked Jason on the cheek. “Master, welcome home,” I whispered, embarrassed Mark might overhear my words of endearment.
“Babe, something smells good.” He cocked his head to the kitchen.
“Brook’s creation. I’ve been busy today.” I dropped my first hint of annoyance.
With the three of us around the vast dining table, my irritation lasted throughout the meal, and the bad attitude did me no favours as I rolled peas about my plate with a fork and constantly re-folded my napkin. Even worse, I made snarky remarks and notched up a whole list of pushy, resist-being-a-submissive points.
What did he expect? Switching from an assertive frame of mind to a submissive wife didn’t happen in a blink of the eye. Jason, whether at work or at home, had nothing he need do to alter his thought patterns—the man lived and breathed dominance.
I let the two men talk. Jason had asked Mark how he found the London scene. The word “scene” was duplicitous, as he meant the BDSM community.
“Encouraging. David has been invaluable,” said Mark as Jason topped up his wine glass. “He has been happy to loan me his sub for a few scenes. Keep in practice, so to speak.”
“His sub suits your needs?” asked Jason.