Trust Me to Know You (43 page)

Jason had been different from the outset. I was traumatised and my faith in dominants had taken a serious knock. He
had understood this, so he had wooed me with vanilla love, making it his
first success in winning over my heart. When he
had punished me and I had
cried out “red”, I had not told him the true reason for my breakdown. With the benefit of hindsight, I now knew he had guessed the cause of my safe-wording. Far from giving up on me as a lost cause to
submission, he had altered his tactics. H
is aftercare became critical and remained poignant and thoughtful. Another positive score for my insulated heart. The barriers to my being in love
had been eroded with every passing week.

He protected me beyond the routine duties of a caring dom and he feared for my safety. Aggressive in his tactics, he had kept me adhered to his person or properties at all times. I had resented him, now I was grateful.

When he had called me his girlfriend, I had accepted the description with delight. Had he used the term with honesty? With his parents and mine, he had been open about our relationship and I had moved in with him on the basis of our growing intimacy. A step of commitment that neither of us had attempted before with others. All good omens and indicators of a future together and those
actions had, I thought, demonstrated love to me. Commitment, it would seem,
did not
mean love or romance to him. Had I
misinterpreted him so badly?

Lunch
time came and went. I
could not
face food and managed only to sip on a glass of water. The situation needed to be resolved somehow. If I returned to his room, he would see it as me r
eturning compliant and defeated,
ready to be his submissive and nothing else. He would expect me to kneel, be lectured about my failings and
be put in my place with some act that demonstrated his dominance over me. Or worse, he c
ould reject me. A submissive who refused her dominant
did not always get a second chance. He had never indicated to me that he would keep me no matter what I did wrong.

There was a knock at the door. What if it was Jason? I was grateful I could peep through the spy hole in the door. It was the
hotel concierge. I opened the door and he held an envelope for me, with my name handwritten on it. In his other hand was my suitcase. I stepped to one side and he quickly placed it in the room. He
did not
say anything and rapidly beat a retreat, his mission accomplished. Shutting the door I leant back and pondered what I was about to read. The presence of the suitcase was ominous. Taking a deep breath and
settling myself in an armchair, I tore the envelope open. A letter written in Jason’s meticulous handwriting. There were no corrections evident and I suspected he took his time to compose it.

***

Dear Gemma,

You are right. I want it all. The lifestyle of a Dominant, which is all I ha
ve ever really known, is my unceasing goal. I take pleasure in the responsibilities of leading, controlling and owning a submissive.
I wanted also to be something I had not been and had little practise at - the considerate lover who openly shares their life and passions without restrictions. I am well aware, as you keenly pointed out to me, that I have not been successful. My role as your Dominant, in the context of being a lover, has not been clearly defined. To suggest to you, as I did those many weeks ago, that I would let you be free and equal while reshaping you into my submissive, was implausible.
I am not the right Dom for you
, Gemma.

You are a strong, independent person. You have managed to cope with a horrific trauma and you did not need to be a submissive to achieve this. It was your desire to return to submission that has driven you to be with me. You know this is not what you need. You need stability and love. Perhaps this is what you have come to realise.

I will arrange you to be flown back on a scheduled flight as soon as possible. Accommodation will be found for you too.

I’m sorry our relationship
has come to such an abrupt end. It never has been my intention to harm you physically or emotionally.

Jason

***

I dropped the letter on the floor and I was racked with heart wrenching sobs. He had released me completely from our arrangement.

What did I expect!
Why was I so disappointed? I left him and yet it felt like
he had abandoned me so readily, so, so easily.

Does he not have any love for me?
That
dreadful Saturday night when he had held me tightly and told me he needed me forever, now seemed to be due to the trauma of the night, nothing more. Declaring his love for me in a moment of fear had been
a falsehood. A moment of madness for him.
Clearly,
he did not love me or else he would have fought for me to stay in that hotel room. My efforts to stay in love with him were futile and pointless. Those feelings had to be wiped away.

How could I be so foolish?
I stared through tears out of the window. It was snowing, a swirling blizzard of white flakes. I looked down at the ground below; the snow was falling thick and fast and covering the hotel’s driveway rapidly. Snow was not good for airports. Now I was trapped here.

I contemplated his suggestion I did not wished to be controlled. For me submission was the relief of surrendering to another and accepting their pleasure in me, theirs to own and enjoy. When done properly, being nurtured into a power exchange dynamic, could be a wondrous achievement. Throughout my sexual life, I had always sought submission in my relationships. Standing by the window, I was lost and helpless. No. I did need it. I was hopeless without a guide, a compass, my emotions were afloat and I had nowhere to anchor them.

After my life had been turned upside down, I could not cope with the idea of submission, and I had
buried it. I
had
tried to become conventional. I
had found the new job, danced in clubs with ‘normal’ friends and avoided the other venues that signified my past. Spiralling into a void, I had become depressed and
unsure of my future. Then Jason
had appeared and he had gave me back the direction my life was lacking. He thrilled me and the sex was fantastic too. We had connected beyond the simple D/s dynamics of a single scene so quickly and easily.

No
! I needed him. I had fallen in love with him, the sentiment was irreversible. He had his issues too and I could not
reconcile them. Jason the lover I could be with forever, when he gave and showed kindness it captivated me. Jason the master was like a loose cannon, constantly changing direction, there one minute gone the next. How could I trust him with my damaged past haunting me forever?

***

The snow piled up quickly, by the evening
there were drifts forming. I heard nothing from
Jason. W
hether he had found me transport or even cared what state I was in.
Peering at the outside lights, I could see it had stopped snowing. My position by the window had been a permanent feature of the day. The view was beautiful. A mountain landscape, though now darkness had hidden it from my sight. Suddenly I had a deep wish to be out there, in the snow and open spaces, where everything was white and pure.

I put my shoes on and the thick coat I bought for the weekend, at Jason’s insistence. I kept my head down as I passed the reception desk and stepped out into the cold. An attempt had been made to clear the hotel’s drive and pathways. The effort looked rather futile and not very successful. I walked, with my shoes sinking in the drifts, around the side of the hotel to where I could just make out the landscaped terraces. I wondered how far they went into the dimness and what botanical treasures were hidden behind the whiteness. I was half aware that the rational part of my brain was slipping away from me, as it did the night Libby became a murderess.

I did not care. I did not even notice the cold.

“Gemma!
Gemma!”

Where am I? I’m very cold. I’m frozen.

“What are you doing here?”

Where?

I did not think I was anywhere.
I’m completely lost.

***

“Hypothermia, Mr Lucas. Not too severe,
I’ve seen a few cases in my time - she will be disorientated for a while but that should pass. I don’t think she needs hospitalisation though. Warm dr
inks, no alcohol. Rest, plenty of rest.”

I did not recognise the Scottish voice. I sank back into my pillow and returned to the darkness.

I opened my eyes and I was in a hotel room. The same one I slept in on Friday night.

Jason was sitting near my bed in a chair. He had stubble on his chin and he looked tired. There was daylight outside, bleak and grey, the window’s curtains were drawn back. We were alone. Where was that other person I had heard speaking? I was cold, not bone chilling so, but an echo of a deeper coldness, which
had left my body. There were two duvets on me and I was sure there was a hot water bottle by my feet. How long was I out there? I shut my eyes again. I was not ready to face him yet.

There was an aroma, a pleasant one: cocoa
. Next to my bed was a steaming mug of hot chocolate. The coldness had noticeably diminished and I wanted to sit up. Outside the sky had cleared and was a crystal blue, reminding me of another blueness. Jason’s eyes were there watching me from his chair. Propping myself up on the pillows, I took a sip of the creamy sweet
liquid and
it made a warm glow inside me. When I was
finished, I rested my head back and it had to be done. We needed to talk to each other.

“Where did you find me?” I murmured, not looking at him directly.

“At the bottom of the garden, on a bench,” he spoke in low tones. Perhaps we could talk sensibly, as he did not appear to be angry.

“I remember going out. I don’t remember being there.”

I pulled back my duvets to expose my feet and there were thick socks on them. They were burning hot now rather than freezing cold.

“Your feet were deep in snow in not the most appropriate of shoes. You’re lucky not to have frost bite.” Jason came across, put the duvets back on me and sat at the bottom of the bed. “We had a search party out looking for you. The receptionist saw you go out but not come back in. Why, Gemma?”

“You said in your letter that I’m a strong person. I’m not,
Jason. I picked myself up and got on with things after
what he did to me. New job, dancing with my friends, my own therapy. Life was hard, I was depressed and heading nowhere. I ignored my family, friends -
everyone.
Every day was a battle to face people. I can’t do it again, I’m
lost without you. Then you sent
your
letter.
It
was cruel, Jason. You dismissed me like I was your plaything: a toy. Your letter hurt me, more than whips or canes ever have done. You last line even failed to recognise your own ability to hurt me.”

He flinched at my last comment.

“
You
walked out, not me, Gemma,” he said sharply.

True, I had.

“I never said I didn’t love you,
Jason. I’m head over heels in love with you and have been for weeks. You told me you didn’t do 24/7 relationships and yet you call me into submission whenever you like and I feel like a spinning top. I’ve never given myself like this with anyone but you. Before we
met,
there was always a set time and place for me to do a scene, provide a service or to be trained. It is the
... mechanics, for want of a better word, the mechanics of our dom / sub relationship that is not working
for me. You acknowledged that so well in your own words. I can’t be with you and love you carrying on...” My voice faltered and
I had said enough.

Jason was looking down at his manicured hands. “I am sorry. I underestimated your ability to move from bedroom based submission to something you have had little experience of, at least successfully. I’ve pushed you too hard.” His voice switched
to a strained voice.
“This isn’t what
I planned for this weekend. I mean what happened yesterday morning, my demanding you to submit. I intended something quite different. I have to be in control and when I am stressed... I was apprehensive yesterday and seeing you happily talking to other men. It sparked that dangerous fuse
of envy, which sits smouldering inside me.”

Jason looked quite a different man to me now. He was exposing his emotional vulnerabilities.

“I wouldn’t have touched you. Just seeing you on your knees would have been sufficient to calm me. Then you defied me and unleashed this verbal assault on me. I had no idea you had these concerns or doubts about our arrangement,” his voice was rising with emotion. He stopped and sighed deeply.

“When I wrote the letter, I thought I was reflecting what you were telling me and it
would be what you wanted. Confirmation of your thoughts and restating them would help bring you closure,” he paused.

I could not hide my despair. Had not love enter into his thoughts at all?

“I tried to arrange a flight for you back south.” Jason looked up at me and his eyes were looking brighter, almost watery.

Surely not tears!

“When they told me the airport had suspended all flights, I was overcome with relief. An emotion which
almost undid me. It meant you would still be here and maybe you would change your mind.
So,
I went to find you, in your room. You weren’t there. I looked around the hotel, no sign of you. It had turned dark and cold outside. The thought never crossed my mind you would be
out in it. Then when the receptionist told
me you’d gone out on foot and it had been an hour since you’d left.
Christ, Gemma
!” His voice crumbled for a few seconds and then he cleared his throat before continuing.