They dined in their stateroom. A nude Gemma knelt next to the coffee table, glass of wine in one hand and fork in the other, while Jason had the comfort of an armchair. In the background, their servants waited on them, fetching and carrying the different courses from the dumbwaiter. Gemma, at last, had grown used to their bizarre presence. Whether they were having sex, eating, or bathing, the Mexicans were on hand to help.
“You’ve worn me out.” Jason lay on the bed, digesting his meal. “What was this dance you had planned for me?”
Gemma knelt in the middle of the room while Maria re-braided her hair. Strands had come loose and lay about her shoulders. His question took her by surprise. She opened her mouth then shut it quickly.
“Show me,” he commanded. Sitting up, he rested his back on the headboard.
“Here?”
“Why not? There is a dock for your iPod. You don’t need lights or anything. The moonlight will be sufficient. Dim some of them a bit, Enrique, except the ones above her.”
A row of halogens above her head bathed Gemma in spotlights. Enrique and Maria moved the furniture back, creating sufficient space.
Apprehensive and slightly unsure about her abilities as an erotic dancer, Gemma turned on her iPod and found the Latin music she had danced to with Gaspar. Taking deep breaths and shutting her eyes, she filled her mind with the music and recalled the moves her instructor had shown her. She lacked inspiration. Something felt wrong.
She looked down at her bare feet and the amber pattern. “I need heels on. B
are feet don’t work.”
“Sure. Put them on. Nothing else though,” said Jason.
The second time, the music lifted her spirits and her feet hit the rhythm of the beat immediately. Unlike with Gaspar, she livened up her moves, exaggerated and embellished them with dramatic flourishes. Swung her hips wider, spread her legs, wriggled her bottom about, and shook her breasts in circles. Imagining her legs sliding up and down a smooth metal pole, she almost wished she had the pole to cling to and the opportunity to let herself go completely.
At the end, Jason clapped enthusiastically, and the others joined in.
“Very good. I liked it. Do it again. This time, a treat for you, masturbate at the same time.” Jason chortled.
She managed to dance to the mid-point of the song, legs quivering and clitoris throbbing from a splendid orgasm, before she crumpled to the floor.
“She’s spent, señor,” said Enrique. “I don’t think she will do anything else for you this evening.”
Gemma’s lungs sucked air in, panting heavily, too tired to contest the observation.
“I think you might be right. Leave her there. Maria can give her a little clean-up on the floor. When she’s ready, she can crawl into bed. I’m going to sleep.” Jason settled down on his pillow.
The middle of the night came, and Gemma, curled up on the floor, woke to find a blanket draped over her. Cast in darkness, with merely a small light above the doorway, she crawled to her side of the bed and slipped under the sheets. He stirred and, reaching out, dragged her over to his side. Within seconds, they were intertwined and inseparable, ready to sleep again.
Chapter 23. Breaking Point
Day Fourteen
Gemma reached a breaking point with regard to her daily massages. The state of inner turmoil could only have been created by one man—Jason Lucas. No other person could have brought her to the watershed moment in her sexual life. She had been convinced it would be impossible and unachievable on her part.
The dilemma she faced was due to her sensual body, presenting a confused mass of mixed messages, which her brain seemed unable or unwilling to interpret. Gemma contemplated whether she should or needed to speak to Jason.
Her cynical mind told her, don’t. He would manipulate her, mind fuck her into saying or doing things he wanted, and she would end up agreeing to them because he had taught her to please. Her positive, trusting side remained optimistic. He had never made her do anything she didn’t want to do or found repulsive. Even the humiliating enema play had been erotic because of him. Knowing she pleased him was rewarding in itself.
That morning, he had come to witness the Brazilian waxing prior to her massage. They had returned to the routines established before John and Andrea’s visit, and he had come into the spa room without an invitation or voicing a comment, a simple observer. Without interfering with her, nor uttering a word, he had sat serenely in his chosen armchair, legs crossed and stretched out before him, watching. By the time she had returned from the bathroom, post-waxing, he had gone. Gemma had shrugged her shoulders at Maria, and the little woman had pointed at the massage table, ready to move on.
Maria had done nothing during the waxing and massage she hadn’t done on previous mornings, and yet, Gemma struggled to contain the emergence of erotic responses. It had dawned on her that Jason’s hands-off approach had been the catalyst. Those cornflower eyes of his had been remorseless. Ever since they had first met, those eyes had pierced her. Even with her own shut, they would be in her mind, lingering in the same way a light bulb’s glow did on the retina. It was as if he could fuck her with those eyes alone. With her lying on the massage table, the strips of wax being whipped off her legs, he had done exactly that, and by the time the waxing had finished, he had left her intensely needy and unfulfilled.
Maria’s firm fingers continued a torture of tactile stimulation. Every time she drifted towards an erogenous area, Gemma squirmed and envisioned sexual images plastered across her consciousness. Enrique’s erotic drawings with their stylised interpretations of her sex life. She dismissed them briskly. Then came Jason, naked and towering over her, ready to use her, or her, suspended from the ceiling, waiting to be turned into his glorified sex toy.
She should have found the experience heavenly and relaxing. Instead, she drifted in a hellish state of arousal and denial. In the back of mind, a voice begged Maria to bury her fingers in Gemma, to stroke or kiss her. Maria wouldn’t, even if Gemma pleaded with her. The problem revealed and planted itself in her mind. She wanted Maria to touch her sexually and intimately.
Except Jason would never permit that. Then Gemma clarified the mental pronouncement.
Jason would never permit Maria to touch me without him being present.