Trust Me to Know You (16 page)

Seven o’clock came round and the car pulled up. The car door opened and I found Jason in the back seat waiting for me.

“Hi” I said brightly.

His face was most unwelcoming, almost a scowl. Settling back in the passenger seat I decided not to press him for an explanation. Warning signs were going on
off. Not long into the journey he took a call on his mobile. The topic of conversation went right over my head: the
names and companies mentioned meant nothing to me. His tone was curt and he fired off a string of rapid questions to the other person. The conversation lasted virtually the
entire journey to Blythewood House.

Jason was out of the car quickly and pounded up the entrance steps. I followed behind clutching my overnight bag. Depositing it in the hallway and slipping off my shoes, I tracked him into the house. He strode past the sitting room towards his study.

“In here now,” he barked at me.

I scuttled after him and he practically slammed the door behind me. We were facing each other in the middle of the room. He looked pissed off. God, what had I done?

“
Down
!”

I dropped down on my knees. I had to hear him out and find out what was bugging him. Appearing meek did not stop me feeling anxious about his mood.

“How many times did I say you should go to the gym, Gemma?”

I did not cross swords with
that tone of voice.
“Three, sir,” I said quietly.

“How many times did you go?”

Oh, this was what had pissed him off!

“Two. Sir” I kept my voice low.

“If I give you an instruction you obey it. Your
ID pass was only swiped twice. Why didn’t you go three times?”

He had checked up on me, monitoring my activities. The realisation freaked me out slightly.

“I had an unexpected evening out with friends - a birthday pub crawl. I didn’t know about it until yesterday, sir,” I added cautiously.

“Pub crawl?
You got drunk instead of doing what I requested?” He
said sharply.

“I don’t see my friends often....” I began to say.

“I don’t want excuses,” he barked
at me. “
This isn’t about your social life.
I work out every day, regardless of the night before, or how many engagements I have. I make the time because it’s important. We fuck for an hour and you’re
out of energy, it is not long enough for me.
Get it!
If you’ve got the energy to wriggle your hips, you can find some time to tone your muscles as well.”

Hot tears leaked out of my eyes. I felt disappointed we had failed to communicate properly and he saw my disobedience as an act of defiance. Within me, and counter to my outward demeanour, was anger. He had no control over my social life and he had not suggested he ever would. As his submissive, I would never consent to such a proposal. I certainly never had with his predecessors.

“You never made this clear, sir. Yes, I didn’t go three times though I intended too. I prioritised my personal life above your request and, well, I thought a night out was good exercise…” My voice petered out. Now I was starting to sound pathetic to my own ears. I could have asked him, before I went out, the purpose of my gym visits. I could have negotiated the arrangement. The key to our relationship was communication and I circumvented it to have my fun.

Suddenly, I was crying proper, the annoyance with him and myself readily turned to tears. The counterpoint of emotions fed each other.
Jason took a deep breath in. He reached down and stroked my hair
. The action made my tears cease as if he had wiped my eyes dry.

“I should have been more forthcoming with the reason why, Gemma, but I expect you do to as you’re told. You gave me your body, your sexual being, and I want it devoted to me, trained to please me. I won’t ask you to give up your night life, but you have to plan it better and take responsibility for it,” his voice was calmer. His displeasure abated by my contriteness. Walking to the other side of the desk, he sat down.

The moment of silence hovered in the air and I knew what I had to ask. It was an aspect of our relationship that needed to be tested and brought out into the open. I was his to control and he expected me to carry out his instructions without wavering or deviation. I was probably out of practice with the exacting demands of a dominant and there was one course of action that would help focus towards him and away from me. I slid forward and stuck my bottom up high, my fingers woven together and my head bowed to the floor - a position of total acquiescence and devotion.

“Sir. I request you punish me, sir.” I spoke the words to the carpet but they clear for him to hear.

“I will punish you now, Gemma. Take your clothes off,” he spoke with no malice, like a master to their awaiting slave. An instruction to be carried out instantly.

I stood up unsteadily and undressed, not seductively like Saturday. I did not think the stripper routine was going to help placate his annoyance with me. My first punishment and I pushed back thoughts of previous punishments with other men. I had to judge Jason as a new experience and not let memories cloud today.

Of all the aspects of my life as a submissive, it was disciplining me that caused the greatest struggle. Something I could not tell my family or friends about ever. Unlike the erotic spanking, the bondage and the sex toys, to offer oneself for punishment was not about pleasure or fun. It was simply an act of submitting to his wishes, his desires and above all else his control. I understood he wanted to shape me into the kind of woman he sought as a companion to his dominant nature. He would give me his rules and protocols, whether a few or many it did not matter, I was expected to comply with them. I had not and he had made it clear, during our initial conversation about how we should proceed with our relationship, that he would punish me if I disobeyed his requests. I consolidated myself by knowing his disciplining would clear the air.

I knelt back down while Jason lowered the window blinds. The evening sunlight had diminished considerably and room had gone darker, more sinister.

“Come stand by the wall here,” he indicated a bare stretch of wall behind his desk.

I stepped over as he took off his jacket and tie, then rolled up his sleeves.

“Stand here, back against the wall, your legs apart. More, Gemma. Good.”

I complied with all his demands without looking at him. Instead I stared at the ceiling, tears drying on my face.

“Hands on your head. Don’t move them. I’m going to make you cry again, Gemma,” he said unpleasantly.

Turning to his desk, he picked up a thick wooden ruler. An old-fashioned implement - the traditional foot long ruler with faded grooves marked along it. Standing between my legs, Jason leant towards me, his left hand pressed against the wall above mine, his right hand clutching the rule. I turned my face to one side and squeezed my eyes shut.

“
Owww
,” was the only sound I could make as he smacked the ruler between my legs, hitting my right inner thigh hard.

“Say it,” his voice soft and icy cold.

“One, sir” I gasped.
Oh fuck,
it was going to hurt like crazy. He was not going to skimp on pain when it came to punishments. He knew I was not a fan of using my inner thighs as a target area. We had discussed it as something that I did not find erotically pleasing and he immediately suggested it as suitable for using
for punishments. I agreed, gave my consent to his thoughts and filed the conversation away. I
could not expect to enter into a D/s relationship without discipline and Jason wanted to explore my tolerances, not shy away from them.

Slap
!

I tried to lift my body up and away as he hit me, but his left hand pressed down on my shoulder preventing me.

“Two, sir,” I screeched at him.

He stepped to one side to enable a good swing of his hand. I so desperately wanted to draw my legs together.

“No apart!” he spotted my creeping knees moving.

I sucked air into my lungs as I counted out the next blows, three, four, five and then six. He looked like he was stopping. I gritted my teeth and he continued his onslaught of my delicate area. He
did not
have to hit particularly hard, only a moderate slap would make me cry out in anguish as the throbbing pain grew.
For some reason I could not process the pain. I was out of practice and in unknown territory. I was trying to block unwanted images, fearful emotions not pain and the battle in my mind was making me dizzy with confusion.

He stopped to push a finger inside me. I winced. I had to acknowledge that once again my perverted sexual habits had kicked in. I was becoming wet, though
insufficient for penetration. The arousal had crept up on me unannounced like all my submissive tendencies; it came from deep within,
unexplained and inherent. It did not mean consent for intercourse, the idea was far from my mind. It was my body betraying me, giving off false messages about my mental state. What would Jason make of it? My supposed arousal?

“Ten,
sir” I was banging the back of my head against the wall in frustrated pain. I opened my moist eyes and Jason’s blue ones were there, observing me closely.

Slap
!

I jumped again and all of a sudden the emotions were overwhelming. I wanted to cry now but the tears would take too much effort and I refused to let tears betray my emotions. I wanted to be strong, not weak and lost to fear.

Would he stop if I asked him to?

Was Jason like the other one, my bad master?

Would Jason push my limits and pain threshold for his own wicked designs with no regard for my safety? Or would he punish me in a controlled environment, allowing me to trust him?

There for a moment was an unwanted memory, flashed before my eyes and I was afraid. My head began to swim, spin about and a torrent of fear hit me as if it was a tsunami. I was drowning... a blanket of nothingness was descending on me.

“Red,
Red!
” The words stumbled out of my mouth.

Jason’s face changed
to concern. He dropped the ruler behind him on to the desk and took my hands from my head where they gripped my hair in tension. For a few
minutes, he spoke to me, words I could not comprehend and I absorbed his tone, which was tender and repetitious. I nodded to him, that I was back in the room, back there with him.

“OK,
babe. You’re very strong, I know that, and stubborn. I’m satisfied. Punishment over.”

Now the tears came uncontrollably, heaving sobs on to his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me towards him.

We were lying on the bed. He had covered me with a robe, having carried me upstairs from his study, and between my legs was an ice pack, cooling my painful beaten thigh. Jason was stroking my hair back off my face while resting on one elbow. His aftercare was faultless I had to admit.

“Second time you’ve safe-worded me,” he looked sullen.

“I wanted to cry I think, but you’re right I can be pretty stubborn. I want to submit to you fully, but on the other hand I have personal pride issues I suppose.” I
did not
mention the memory, the fear. I
could not articulate those thoughts. They only ever appeared as images in my mind.

“Well, you did the right thing.” He lifted the ice pack off for an inspection. “If things get too much you have to stop me, even if you don’t complete the punishment. I won’t suspend safe-words for disciplining you.” He was nothing but reasonable in his negotiations.

“Thank you, sir.”

“The punishment is over. I’m not inclined to continue. The matter is closed.” Jason did not appear to be too disappointed. He had been assessing me, taking measure of my responses to pain. I began to suspect he regretted his stance - the need to control my trips to the gym. However, he did not rescind the stipulation and I reflected on the events in his study.

A tingle passed over my flesh. Suddenly I was back in my fantasy world, leaving behind the real-life scene of correction. I was being fucked in his study and having sex across his desk was definitely something the little sub inside me yearned to do.

“How else can I please you, sir,” I took pity on his lack of closure. My desire to please him was insatiable and I wished to make up for my faults.

Jason placed his finger on my mouth and traced around my lips. Message received. He lay back and allowed me to manoeuvre over him and I started to lick my tongue around his growing erection. His sigh was deep and appreciative. I took my time giving him as much pleasure as I could give without suffocating myself with his large cock. Perhaps the evening
had not been quite a disaster.

***

I was screaming “
Red! Red!
” over and over. Hands pawed me, grabbing me, crushing
me. Terrible images burst
across my dreams, not just the word red. I saw red, blood red everywhere. A monster had woken up in my dreams and turned them into nightmares.

“Gemma, wake up. Wake up!” Jason’s voice penetrated my unconscious state. I looked up and he was there hovering over me.

Cold sweat made me shiver in his arms and
I fought back tears. I
did not want the nightmares back. I thought I had conquered them.

“You’re OK. Bad dream.” He wrapped his arms back around me and he kissed my cheek. “You’re OK.”

A tranquillity descended, glancing around the dark room, there was nothing to frighten me. I was back to sleep quickly, comforted and safe in his embrace.

***

“How are you this morning, Gemma?”

Jason was looking very sprightly at me as he threw back the bed sheet unceremoniously. “No bruising, ice pack worked well,” he noted.

“I’m good,
sir. It wasn’t pain that stopped me
.” I sat up in bed as he withdrew his hand from my intimate parts, almost ashamed at the intrusion. “It was the crying, that was the issue. Whatever pain or pleasure I have experienced, being able to cry spontaneously has been an important outlet for me, to help process my pain or emotions,” I held his eyes steady in my gaze.