Trust Me to Know You (15 page)

“Good grief, Gemma,” Jason was surprised by my sensitivity. “You let yourself be tied up, blindfold and whipped, yet your terrified of a bit of make believe.” He kissed my forehead tenderly though.

“I’m only an ordinary girl. Isn’t this what little girls do when they get taken to the cinema with their hunky boyfriends?” I teased him.

“Careful now, Gemma, hunky boyfriends get frisky in the back row you know,” he chuckled.

The end credits were coming up on the screen. We were both quite relaxed and I waited to see what he planned to do next. The evening was expiring rapidly and
I suspected he was tired, though I had
yet to see him run out of energy. Jason had a hand on my thigh, thumb rubbing back and forth against the fabric of my jeans. Then he turned to me and pulled my head towards his, I parted my lips for him and we were kissing, tongues and lips pressed together tightly. The fire inside me was lit and burning bright. He stopped and leant back away from me.

“I want to fuck you. Now. It’s getting late, so we’ll be quick.”

My heart rate shot up, I was eager to please him, to show him that I was capable of whatever he wished to do.

“Strip, here, now!” The command was perfunctory.

I stood before him and carefully took off my clothes, trying to be seductive as possible. My bra unclasped, I shook my breasts down right in front of his eager eyes. Knickers slid down and I turned slightly so he could see my bottom waving in the air. Jason ran
his finger along his lower lip, not reacting visibly to my flirting. Suddenly he was up on his feet, grabbing my hand and my t-shirt from the floor, he hauled me across the room into the games room. I
did not mind the manhandling it added to the mood I was in and his urgency quickened my arousal.

He turned the lights on. “Go stand by the billiard table please.”

I walked up to the narrow end of the table. What was he planning to do to me?

“You’re going to bend over and I’m going to fuck you hard. Do you want me to fuck you hard, Gemma?”

He was standing right next to me and breathing on my neck. The nape of neck received a light kiss and a shiver ran down my back like an electric current.

“Yes, sir.”

Please,
please!
I was gaping for him already.

Grasped in his hand was my t-shirt. He had rolled it up and brought it in front of my face. “Mouth open.”

The t-shirt was thrust into my mouth and I bit down on it. He tied it tightly behind my head.
My anxiety levels had increased. I was not sure I wanted to be gagged although I had never said I would not let him.

“No words, I don’t want to hear you and nor do I want drool on this baize,” he whispered into my ear. A hand pushed me in the back. “Bend over the table. Legs apart. Further apart, no more,” he snapped.

I was stretched wide for him and I grasped the edge of the table, spread-eagled.

“Keep still.”

He walked round the table and picked up two of the balls. The yellow one and a red one. He placed one in each of my hands.

“Do you understand?”

I nodded in response. What an inventive man, not safe-words, safe-balls. I laughed inwardly.

“Hold on to them tightly. If you drop them I will assume you’re safe-wording me, alright?”

I nodded again. Jason was behind me and I heard the sound of his jeans
unzipping and dropping to the floor, along with his underpants. Then his hands were on my hips, I wriggled my bum provocatively at him. He spanked my bottom hard several times and I grunted into my gag. Steadying me, he thrust two fingers into my wetness, twisting his fingers back and forth.

“You’re very ready aren’t you? Good.”

The power behind Jason’s thrust, as he slammed me into the table, surprised me. I exhaled loudly into my gag and he propelled me on to the hard edge of the table with an audible thump. I sensed some pain with the depth of his penetration hitting my belly and the speed was unnerving. He did not pause as I expected him to do, but instead he rammed into me repeatedly and it felt like the full length of his shaft was driving deep inside me. The exertion was prevalent in his groans and exhales. My hair grasped by his hand
and I winced as he pulled back on it, pushing himself deeper into me. I was whimpering in the gag now, though my hands
remained clenched tight around the coloured balls.

Why did I let men do this to me? There had to be a deep psychological reason why I found this kind of rough sexual activity deeply arousing. It felt primeval, like an animal instinct in me. I gave him my body and my erotic addiction to being submissive was being re-kindled with everyone one of our sexual encounters. Jason had that rudimentary need too. The way he fucked me was pure primordial lust, although the force was controlled.

My control was pathetic and I was beginning to build, desperate to relieve my neediness. I squirmed underneath, trying to press my clitoris into the table edge for satisfaction. My nipples chafed on the baize as he dragged me back and forth on the surface. The desire in me to come was bordering on the painful and my clitoris was swollen as if it would burst.

“Please, sir, please,” I muttered into my t-shirt while my knuckles tensed about the hard billiard balls.

“
Not yet!
” His denial growled down at me.

I yelped with disappointment and imagined the balls in my hands were his testicles and I was squeezing them until his eyes were watering. My mental revenge served a purpose, I thought, as an attempt to distract myself. Unfortunately, as a fantasy it failed dismally, after all seeing his fleshy pink balls in my head drove my lust further to the brink.

He held me tighter around the waist, pinching my flesh between his strong fingers and he picked up speed, banging back and forth against my bottom, his breathing rasping and sharp.

“
Now
!”

I quickly exploded inside, a detonation of nerve endings sending waves of spasms across me. Jason pulled me away from
the table, down on to his lap as he knelt on the floor. Still in me, he held me tight around my breasts and waist as he came loudly, shouting out my name “
Gemma
!”

His grip was almost suffocating me as he held me for the duration. The moment was over, he abated and I allowed my cramping hands to let go of the balls. They rolled across the floor under the billiard table. We were there for several minutes catching our breaths.

“Off.”

I eased myself away from him.

“I’m thirsty. Please bring a glass of water to the bedroom.”

He pulled on his jeans and, without a glance at me knelt on the floor, strolled out of the room.

“Yes, sir,” I murmured to his departing back.

By the time I had tidied up the games room, collected my clothes, Jason had showered and was lying back in bed, eyes closed. I knew he was not asleep. His breathing
was still too fast. I placed the glass on the bedside table and went into the bathroom. I quickl
y showered and climbed into bed noticing his drinking was glass empty. I curled up in bed alongside him. Not a word had passed between us, no conversation, not until the morning when he would reach over to me and say, “Ready for me, babe?”

***

Jason and I walked out on to the front driveway hand in hand. The overcast weather would not
deter Jason from his usual round of golf. The morning
began subdued and underplayed by Jason. I thought we actually made love when we woke up. It certainly was not
anything like the breast torture he inflicted on me the previous day.
Standing by the car, he embraced me briefly and kissed me sweetly on the mouth. Then I climbed into the back of the car ready to head off to my apartment, to the dull humdrum of the weekly laundry and ironing pile. I turned in my seat, as the car rumbled along the driveway, but found to my disappointment he had disappeared into the house without even a wave.

Monday was mundane, the work unexciting and banter in the office about the weekend uninspiring. Penny had a new boyfriend who she thought was godlike.

“Sex, I can’t describe the sex,” she shrieked before tempering her voice. “On the kitchen table. Can you believe it! He thinks I’ve had a boob job and I say, no all real and he thinks they’re fantastic. So yesterday,
I wore no bra all day and drove him bonkers bouncing them up and down at him. Wouldn’t let him touch them though. Had to wait. Naughty boy!” She giggled uncontrollably.

I knew I would not get away with being provocative with Jason. Not a pang of jealous passed through me as I had a good weekend of sex too.

Amanda had had another argument with her boyfriend. Ranting for ages at his inconsiderate attitude and penny pinching.

“Wouldn’t take me out at all. Says I’m spending faster than I’m earning and he’s not picking up the difference. What’s the point of having a boyfriend if he doesn’t share the tab when we go out? Then he has the audacity to bugger off with his brother and watch a football match on Saturday. Didn’t let him touch me all weekend, not until he gets his priorities right, I can bloody well tell you!” She slammed her filing cabinet shut and the noise
reverberated around the room.

I gave a sympathetic grimace while mentally rolling my eyes about my head. I may have a submissive tendency when it came to men and sex, but I knew equality in relationships did not mean taking money for granted. Jason kept me at the weekend but I would not dream of having him contribute towards my personal expenses or bills. The man may be swimming in money and ridiculous privileges but I was determine not to give him the impression I was a gold digger and after his wealth.

Libby was her usual quiet self and not giving anything away. I found her creepy. Her eyes and ears tracked everyone and anything,
as if she was filing mental notes about the world about her. If she
did not want to divulge personal information, fair enough. I had no plans to talk to her about any of my personal life, certainly not my sexual exploits.

***

My mobile phone emitted a ping -
a text message. Jason had given
me his personal mobile number, strictly for emergencies only or else there would be hell to pay.

“I don’t do mindless chit chat texts.” He had an awesome authoritarian glare on his face when he made the announcement early on in our relationship. I could not imagine purposeless chatter from Jason.

The message was from Jason.

: You need to use the gym. 3 sessions a week. You need to get fitter for what I have in mind for you.

I blushed and tucked the phone away quickly. Gosh, not what I expected on a Monday morning.

Tucked away in the basement was the company’s private gym. I did not like gyms, what with other people’s sweaty bodies and pop music blasted out perpetually. His message was not a request. His orders were to be obeyed without question. At least, that was my opinion. Later in the week, I regretted my lack of curiosity in seeking clarity about the extent of his controlling missive.

The next day I come in earlier, armed with my sweatpants and sleeveless t-shirt, and I joined those perspiring bodies as I pounded the treadmill
for half an hour. It certainly increased my appetite for a
mid-morning
snack. I planned to do another
session on Wednesday morning and the third after work on Thursday. My period arrived on Monday, perfect timing, it would be finished by Friday just in time for my weekend. I needed to sort out a doctor’s appointment to renew my birth control prescription too.

***

Thursday came around and I heard the muffled ringtone of my mobile phone, which was stashed
in my handbag. Glancing around the
office, I picked it up and recognised Trudy’s number.

“Gemma, we’re going out after work this evening. It’s Garth’s birthday, you’ve got to come. Please!”

“I’ve got stuff do.”

My last gym session was due and there would be no time the next day as I had wall-to-wall meetings.

“Tosh girl, Nicky will be there and you haven’t seen her for ages. We’re having a meal first, then pubs and end up at a club.”

A long night out on a work day? However, the temptation to spend time with my friends was overwhelming. I could do with a good boogie and letting off steam. What the hell, he would not know, too busy in his high powered world of mergers and acquisitions.

I dashed home and changed into something appropriate for a night out - s
tretch pants and a sparkly sequin top. High heels, though not too high, I
did not want to sprain my ankles.

What an evening! We ate a hearty meal and hit a street renown for pubs. One drink in each and after the fifth I was very tipsy. The bar we ended up in had a good size dance area and the DJ played a range of music for a much needed dancing session. I wriggled my bum in front of Garth and his friend Tony. The place was hot and the sweat poured down my back and between my breasts. I looked like a wet t-shirt competition contestant.

Around midnight I threw the towel in.

“Look I have to work you. Tomorrow. It’s not the weekend,” I excused myself.

“You’re never about at the weekend,” commented Trudy.

Definitely time to scarper before she started asking why.

I crawled into the cab and tried desperately to cool down on the back seat. Paying the driver off had taken my last few notes.
I did not even bother to shower, though I remembered to drink plenty of water, learnt that habit from bitter experience. I flopped on the bed into a dreamless sleep.

***

The world seemed extra bright that Friday morning as I downed two paracetamols and a large coffee. My head ached slightly and my throat was hoarse from all the shouting over the music
. The day dragged, meeting after meeting and I found it difficult to concentrate. Eventually mid-afternoon, the liquid replenishment and food had helped me perk up. I needed to be ready for Jason’s enjoyable
evening escapades.