AllFreeNovel
Share Us
A flush of blood shot across her body.
A car waited to take them to the cave outside the city’s perimeter. Along the way, they consumed a swift lunch in an Italian bistro—unexciting and a limited menu. Jason had promised something better for dining out in the evening.
“Caves,” said Gemma nervously as they drove along winding roads, up into the hills. “You know I don’t like confined spaces. I mean, if I have to crawl through—”
The finger flicked on her thigh, stopping her comments in mid-flow. She felt the familiar tug on her arm and his hot breath next to her ears.
“Where is the trust, Gemma? Would I take you somewhere that would freak you out?” he growled quietly.
“No. Sir.”
He let her arm go, and she stared out of the window. Restless clouds hovered about the sky, keeping the sun at bay. The dry air moved with a slight breeze, and the terrain was hilly and green.
Gemma loved the caves. Gigantic caverns, huge open spaces, well lit and airy. According to their guide, a cathedral’s dome could fit amongst the stalactites and dish-piled stalagmites. She had no sense of being enclosed. The roped walkways and steps laid out a path through the cave. Lights illuminated the rock features, casting ghostly shadows, and the sound of dripping water echoed everywhere.
Stopping in her tracks, she gawped. “I’ve never been in a cave before. I thought there would be little tunnels and freezing cold water to stand in.”
“The Giant Cave is the largest tourist cave in the world. You can put away thoughts of clambering around on your knees. Save that for me.” He gave her a mischievous smile, very toothy and wide. She loved his smiles.
They returned to Sublime close to four in the afternoon for cake and coffee. Gemma wanted to swim, sun bathe, and generally do all the things she had enjoyed during the cruise. Jason denied each request with a simple no. He retreated to his study, leaving her to read quietly. She refused to sulk at his responses. Instead, she wrote a final postcard to her parents.
***
“We’re eating out. When we return, I’ve decided to spank you.”
Gemma, resting on the bed, jerked her legs. A sense of foreboding rushed through her. “Why? You said you wouldn’t punish me.”
“It’s not a punishment. I wish to spank you. Let’s say it is to re-establish our dynamic in its proper place.” Jason loomed over the bed.
She opened her mouth to speak then thought better of it. He had used the word spank. Jason rarely requested a spanking. His preferred style was to tell her which implement he would be using and it gave her an idea of his intentions—a whipping, a flogging, or a caning. Spanking could mean anything and left her uncertain. She slumped in despair, failing to see any erotic enticement in his wish.
Jason, upon seeing her deflated appearance, insisted she had two re-invigorating minutes in a cool shower. She didn’t find the shower refreshing. Consumed by thoughts of her impending spanking, she failed dismally to find excitement for the evening’s events.
Couldn’t he have told me after the meal?
One word echoed in her head.
Acceptance.
Her first Master had taught her being a submissive was more than the concept of simply submitting, of giving control to another over her life. There were other behaviours: obedience, willingness, and acceptance. She considered herself generally obedient, and she willingly gave her body for his pleasure or for her correction. What she struggled with was accepting it was going to happen. Staring at her reflection in the gilt-framed mirror, surrounded by the now familiar opulence of Sublime’s interior, Gemma doubted she had evolved at all over the cruise. Part of her felt like she had stepped backwards not forwards.
She had nearly screwed up with her attempts at being bi-curious, she had had failed on many fronts in the nightclub and, instead of being excited about a meal out with Jason, she wallowed in negativity. Wet hair draped around h
er shoulders, she rested her head on her arms and leant on the dresser. Jason would accuse her of self-doubt, lack of self-esteem. In fact, she concluded that many words that commenced with the word “self” generated the negative attitudes spinning about in her head.
He rested her hands on her shoulders. She didn’t jump as she had heard him approach.
“Sit up, and I’ll dry your hair.” He brushed out the knots with long sweeps of the larger hairbrush.
“Let me play a different scenario for you. I don’t tell you I’m going to spank you, and we go to the restaurant. We have a great time, and we come back here. I tell you to strip and present. You spring tight like a coil, and when I spank you, it hurts like crazy because you’re tense. Tell me the scenario that is going to happen tonight. The one we have already started.” He picked up the hair dryer.
Gemma sighed. She knew his game; now he was playing her. She relayed what she believed would happen in the coming hours, watching his reaction in the mirror.
“Well, I start the evening feeling really pissed off with you because you’ve reminded me I’ve screwed up and need a jolly good spanking with whatever you’re going to have in your hand. I wallow in self-pity all the way to the restaurant until you discipline me, something short and sharp—”
“Do I? You’re feeling that negative about yourself?” He shook his head with despair.
“I’m afraid so. However, I’m trying to be optimistic. I think you’re going to take me somewhere different or special. I’m going to like the food and atmosphere. Maybe you might let me have a little alcohol. By the time we get back here, I will have accepted your choice of spanking implement. I’m hoping I will take my spanking well. Feel suitably submissive and glad you’re my Master. How did my scenario go?”
