Judged by Him (33 page)

“Not as good as yours. I’m aware of how clothes pegs work. I had a zipper done on me once.” He took the bath sheet she offered and rose out of the water.

She froze, replaying his last sentence, registering its significance. “You have? When? Why?”

“Oh, long time ago. Simple curiosity. When Damien started to let me join in with his scenes, while he mentored me, I realised I had no idea what it was like to be on the receiving end. Not as a submissive, simply as a bottom. He suggested I try a few things out. If I wanted to understand the nature of the pain I was going to inflict on my subs, I should be on the receiving end. A good philosophy.”

Gemma remained gobsmacked, her mouth opening and shutting in the goldfish style that so amused Jason. An incredulous image of him on the receiving end occupied her thoughts. “What else did you try?”

Jason rubbed his legs dry. “Oh. Not much. I can’t recreate some of the things you experience. I don’t have the right body parts, for one thing. Zipper was an easy one to try. Some chemical play, though not on sensitive parts, on my forearm. The cane, whip, and paddle.”

“I can’t believe this. You submitted—”

Jason’s hand stopped moving. He straightened. “No. Not submitted, I allowed somebody to demonstrate on me. Not a scene. No submissives present. I was curious. That’s all. So, I am well aware of how clothes pegs feel on the flesh.”

Gemma removed her covering. She pictured Jason covered in pegs. Her hand holding the string. She didn’t know if it excited her or not. “I can’t get the image out of my head of you—”

He flicked her nipple, making her jump back, covering her breasts with her arms. “If it lingers too long, my little subbie, I shall find a way of distracting you from thinking about it. Time to dry your hair. Maria can braid it, assuming Enrique has finished with her. He likes to fuck her after she has been naughty with you.”

Gemma held out her hand for Jason’s towel. She couldn’t stop thinking about Jason. Now, she saw him bent over. “Somebody caned you! Who?”

Ten minutes later, she wasn’t thinking about Jason being a bottom. Over his lap, he walloped her bottom with the palm of his hand. Another to add to the considerable collection he had landed her backside.

“Now, what are you thinking of?” A sharp yank on her scalp, and he pulled her head up. She tried not to grin at him. Heat radiated out of her bottom. Spanked on a wet bum, she had resorted to various techniques to take her mind off the pain of his stinging handprints.

“Mr Mistoffelees, Sir,” she yelped. “What else!” She referred to a poem she used to help escape. Her love of T.S. Eliot poetry came in handy when she needed to distract herself. She often called upon the verses lodged in her memory. Her first Master had been a fan of the musical
Cats,
and it had been at his suggestion that she learnt the words by heart.

She struggled to fight off a fit of giggles. Each time she caught her breath, another wave of ridiculous sniggers erupted out of her mouth. She knew it wasn’t a serious admonishment. Her feet waggled up and down like flippers. An image of a seal spread over Jason’s knees came to mind, and it set off another stream of titters.

Jason stopped spanking and pushed her naked body off his lap. She flopped onto the floor, clutching a buttock cheek.

He wagged a playful finger. “You have twenty minutes to get ready for dinner. So, be quick. If you have trouble sitting this evening, you only have yourself to blame.”

“Yes, Master. Thank you for spanking me, Sir.”

Wriggling her throbbing bottom in his direction, she fancied he had wanted to find an excuse to spank her for the last few days. The last instance over the armchair had involved tears and protestations. Not the best kind of spanking for either of them. A playful spanking relieved tensions and lifted their spirits. Jason, following his stressful sea rescue, had manufactured an excuse. She didn’t mind.

“You’re welcome.” A slow smile spread across his face until teeth glinted.

Gemma waited until she reached the seclusion of the bathroom before muttering, “You bastard,” under her breath. She tried not to smirk at her reflection in the mirror. Now, she was certain he had set her up; the grin on his face had said it all. She also noticed he never answered her question. His pain threshold remained elusive and untestable by her.

After dinner, he took her hand and led her to the stateroom. A firm grip and she felt her heart starting to pound and her insides buzz with expectation. Enrique and Maria had the evening off, hidden away in their own cabin, up to their own games.

Gemma stood in the middle of the stateroom, while Jason circled around her divesting himself of his shoes, then jacket, watch, and socks. Halting in front of her, he took her chin and tilted her head up to him. His mouth descended and his lips encased her own. He peeled her dress off, unclipped her bra and, kneeling, slipped off her knickers. Rising, he paused between her legs and inhaled her sex. For a few minutes, he inserted his tongue into her slit and flicked it back and forth, making her gasp and rock on her feet.

“Undress me,” he whispered.

She unbuttoned his shirt, running her hands down his chest, over his abdominal muscles to his waistband. His button undone, his flies unzipped, she pulled his trousers off his hips and he stepped out of the legs. Next, kneeling, she lowered his boxer shorts and tossed them to one side. Resplendent and large. Upright and rigid. His cock was a joy to behold.

Leaving her on her knees, he fetched the cordless vibrating wand. Handing the device to her, he told her to place it against her pleasure point and press hard. He commanded her to kneel at his feet, peering up at him, while he enjoyed his erection, running his hand up and down, tugging on the tip.

Grabbing her hair, he came first, all over her upturned face. Not far behind, he held her by the hair until she completed her climax, writhing and twisting while he clung to her hair.

“Thank you! Oh, God, thank you!” she murmured as he took the wand off her.

“Go and clean yourself. I’m tired. That is sufficient for tonight.”

Standing in the bathroom, Gemma examined her reflection in the mirror. His semen trickled down her face onto her bosom. White globules of fluid had collected on her nose, lips, and chin. She smeared the thick liquid all over her face, spreading into her skin as if it was lotion. She licked her lips and then the palms of her hands. She tasted of him. She had him all over her face. A small smile crossed her face.

Climbing into bed Gemma noticed he had gone to sleep. Soft regular breaths and a perfectly still body. Lying on her back, she rubbed a finger over her face and sucked on it. She purred. If he didn’t put his seed inside her, she would keep it on her face and, now and again, have another sample of him until she fell asleep.

Day Sixteen

Gemma rose early in the morning and washed her face. The sticky mess had dried on her cheeks. By the time he woke up, she had poured his coffee and placed the mug on the bedside table next to his buttered, toasted bagels and glass of orange juice.

Jason woke to find her kneeling by the bed. “You’re gorgeous, babe. I love it when you greet me like this in the morning.”

Gemma rested her elbows on the edge of the mattress. “Would you like to fuck me before or after breakfast, Sir?” She propped her chin on the back of her hands and fluttered her eyelashes.

Jason laughed. “I’m hungry. You’ll have to wait. Go and find Maria. I’m going to take my time having breakfast in bed then check my e-mails.”

“As you wish, Sir.” She couldn’t resist wiggling her bottom as she left—her “this is what you’re missing” taunt. His chuckles followed her out of the room.

Following her massage, Maria draped a robe over Gemma’s oiled skin. Maria’s hands rested on her shoulders briefly, squeezing them in a reassuring fashion.

“Thank you, Maria. Perfect, as usual.”

She sauntered back up to their deck, feeling relaxed and ready to deal with whatever Jason desired. Knowing he had work to do, she hunted around the salon until she found a few items to take into his office. She planned to keep him company as unobtrusively as possible. Tapping on the door, she slipped into the room.

She tossed a blanket and magazine on the floor before joining them. Unlike the first time, she didn’t attract his attention with her flirtatious body; she felt cold. The turbulent air conditioning blasted, and she wrapped the blanket about her. She curled up into a cocoon. Shutting his laptop down, he leant back in his chair, and his hand brushed against the visible bulge in his pants.

An hour later, the state of the bed told a story of their lovemaking. The stained sheets kicked to the bottom, pillows scattered about, and sweat dripping off their bodies onto the mattress. Even in the midst of straight, vanilla sex, Jason led her as if he was a film director. How she should touch him, and his words, hands, and eyes articulated where she should position her body to receive him. She lapped up the instructions, finding his voice seductive and gently assertive. Secretly, she wished he controlled her orgasms. To have him in her and speak the word “come!” would make her melt around him.

Satiated and spent, Gemma leant her head on the leather boarding and between her legs, on his stomach and resting his head on her belly, lay Jason. Motionless and breathing quietly, his rapid exertions ceased. She stroked his hair with her hands, running her fingers through his blond strands, which had darkened with perspiration. Fresh sweat gave off a divine smell.

“Still not bald,” he muttered into her belly.

She jumped slightly. “I thought you were asleep.” Fooled yet again by the expert. But she smiled, he’d spoken those words to her when she had first touched his bare body nearly three years earlier.

He lifted his head. “Do you remember the first time?”

She paused, delighted that their thoughts had re-traced the same journey. “Of course. A precious moment that can’t be reproduced or re-created. I was so nervous!”

Jason lay next to her. One of his fingers trailed around her belly as he rested on his other elbow. “Nervous? You didn’t seem especially nervous. Quite keen, if I recollect. Foreplay was barely necessary.”

“Oh, before then. In the car, on the way to Blythewood House. I realised I had broken all my own rules. After what had happened to me, you would have thought I would have been extra careful.” She shook her head with the mildly unsettling memories.

“Rules?”

“Leaving a contact number or have someone ring me at a specified time. You know, that sort of thing. Instead, I went with a strange man on my own. I was very aware of my vulnerabilities. Blythewood House, in the darkness, looked like a Victorian gothic horror house. I thought I was about to enter a world like my first Master’s—a time warp experience. Of course, the interior of Blythewood is different, not exactly antique. However, I made a decision to trust you before I’d even got out of the car.”

“I can assume you have no regrets! What if I had told you I was a Dominant from the outset? No vanilla wooing you. Would you have gone with me that first night?”

Gemma tilted her head to one side. “If I had been in my subbie mindset? No. I would have requested another meeting, a proper interview-type thing. Limits discussed up front. You know the drill, we did it three weeks later. But I wasn’t in my submissive place back then. I lost it completely. I genuinely thought you were going to be a vanilla lover for me. I think that was why I was mad at you when you ignored me for a few days. You were being a typical Dom, and I was thinking, I’m your girlfriend, speak to me!”

“I suppose, I didn’t notice. Probably why conventional relationships didn’t work for me. I didn’t have the inclination to do the romantic getting-to-know-you stuff.” His finger moved up to her breasts. “You came back the next weekend, though.”

“You practically ordered me to visit, and subbie me revived. At the time, I’m sure I was oblivious to the subtleness of it all. I concentrated so hard on wanting sex. Needing it again without being afraid. You said on that first night sex with me was good. ‘Fine sex, Miss Marshall!’” She thumped a hand on the bed. “Did you mean it, or was that part of the heal-Gemma process? Make me want you more?”

Jason turned her head to face him. His eyes twinkled under the halogens.

“I absolutely meant it. I’ve fucked a lot of women in my time. I know when I’m enjoying it and when I’ve found it indifferent. You were so willing from the beginning. You may not have been thinking as a submissive, but you behaved as one. The fact you held back from touching me, as if I was going to deny you pleasure, made you a dream to fuck. Truly, Miss Low-Self-Esteem. All this time, you thought I was faking?” He shook his head. “Do I lie about sex?”

“No. I lie to myself. Like my doubts about my versatility.”

“I was so used to submissives who are at ease with group sex, who know what to expect and what to do. You have a black hole in your training. It doesn’t match with the rest of your abilities.”

“I’m still a good submissive, then?” She bit her lip.

“Oh, jeez, Gem. You have really got to stop thinking yourself down. You would never behave this way about work or your career or your artistic abilities. You are very good at what you know how to do. Especially, my little subbie, at taking pain.” He gave her nipple a hard flick. She briefly shut her eyes in response. “See? I will teach you to be versatile. Don’t worry.”

Gemma wanted to know more. He rarely bothered to speak of his past. “Were you patient with your subs when you trained them?”

“Ah. Well, I was a different man back then. Younger, very arrogant, and impatient. I punished at the slightest infraction. My reputation in work and play, ruthless. So, I stuck to that line. Hard to believe?” Jason said sardonically, raising an eyebrow. “The scenes grew repetitive. The challenges diminished. I lost interest quickly and detached myself from Damien and his kind. I wanted fun, relief from the stresses of work, not to spend my leisure time listening to a fresh-faced girl explain yet again why she failed to hold her orgasm. I pushed the more able ones, but it meant going to places that were increasingly darker and, by the time I bought Blythewood, I’d settled on the idea of concentrating on only experienced subs for my pleasure. Selfish, perhaps, but they had the delights of being used in a well-equipped play room, and I was generous with gifts and rewards.”