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“Now. Fuck me.”
Gemma swore into her gag. Her heart pounded up into her throat, more adrenaline saturated her body, and she put the invigorating effect to good use. She bounced up and down, swung her hips back and forth, squeezing his cock with a frantic display of hip gyrations and pussy clenches.
An exclamation of delight issued forth from below.
Breathe. Gemma sucked air in through her nostrils and gave into the discomforts and pained tissue. She disconnected her body from her brain. Random thoughts of nothingness, abstract images of erotica, and her own sounds of exertion came crashing together. The palette mixed and endorphins kicked in. She went to her own world of escapism. She didn’t care who stood watching or that they were having sex on a luxurious yacht off the coast of Africa. Gemma entered the world of subspace.
She had a sensation of floating off the bed, as if the ropes propelled her up to the ceiling. Was she hallucinating behind her mask? What would her eyes have seen if they had been open? If she felt pain, she didn’t interpret it as such. She continued to rock back and forth in a monotonous motion. She had no idea if she imparted any useful stimulation for Jason. She kept going, knowing he lay beneath, controlling her, watching her jive and rock. She didn’t care about anything. Her mind vacated her corporeal being. If Gemma were driving a car, she would have crashed it in a matter of seconds.
***
“Señor!” Enrique gasped.
“Yes. I know.” Jason grabbed his wife’s waist, holding her steady.
Her head tilted back. Jason watched her for a minute, her rapid breathing and drooling mouth, deciding how long to leave her in this state.
A picture of bondage beauty. With her breasts pulsating and gloriously enlarged, shoulders twisted behind and arms straight back. His diva of pain and lust. Through his blood, adrenaline coursed, warming him. He wanted to linger in the mood before he had his orgasm and the sensation left his body. The power and strength of control he had over her intoxicated him. He wanted to wallow in the elixir of their session and lose himself in it.
His hands held her, helping her keep the rhythm. Together, they worked, and with each thrust, he journeyed towards his climax. Her feverish moans invited him to his conclusion.
“Oh, fuck!” yelled Jason as he achieved his orgasm with force, bucking up and down beneath her splayed pelvis. His chest muscles tightened, and his fingers squeezed her waist, pinching the skin between his fingers.
He allowed himself only a few minutes to enjoy its aftermath. His wife needed him. Gemma stood in danger of sustaining injury while lost in her trance, and she had to be brought back gently. Easing his dwindling cock from inside her, he manoeuvred from under her body and, with Enrique’s help, unbound her and removed the gag and blindfold, massaging her shoulders and wrists. Her eyes tightly shut, she seemed ignorant of their actions. Her breasts released, she let out a muted scream with the rush of blood circulating back around. Jason’s strong fingers alleviated her strained groin until Maria brought a bowl of warm water and bathed between the legs.
“Babe?” Jason whispered in Gemma’s ear. “Come back. You’ve been in your own world. You need to look at me.” His voice strident, commanding, and she opened her eyes.
“Ow!” She grimaced. “Oh, fuck. I don’t want t—” She struggled against him.
“Leave us,” he barked at the other two.
He held her tight, embraced and swathed about her aching body. She came down from her vacant place and began to regain her composure. She let him kiss her, his tongue gently caressing her sore flesh. He called her sweet things and, as they knotted their bodies about each other, he grew large and hard again. She held his shaft and licked.
“For you, babe.” His hand sought out and found her clitoris. This time she didn’t drift away but joined him a spiralling climax of passionate lovemaking. For the rest of the night, they slept, arms and legs intertwined.
***
Enrique and Maria left them on the disorderly bed to recover. Enrique had already composed the new picture in his mind. The graphic, cartoonish drawing of an anonymous, make-believe couple engaged in erotic bondage. Her breasts would be augmented to a mammoth size, her shoulders practically dislocated. Her skin covered in stripes and welts. His muscles would be bulging, hands plucking hard on the chains attached to her nipple clamps. His subscribers liked the exaggerated poses—the liberty he took with his pen and paints. Little did they know how close the picture was to reality.
Chapter 8. Henna
Day Three
Gemma and Jason awoke late by their standards—eight a.m. They laughed at the messy bed with the scattered ropes still attached to the headboard.
She knelt on the bed, arms held out before her, palms up. Jason checked her over, tracing his finger along the route of the ropes. She suppressed a giggle; his gentle fingers tickled. The marks on her wrists had nearly faded. She didn’t have to worry about wearing long sleeves if they went out.
“Um. The marks here will take a while to go. A day, I should think.” He rubbed the ribs under one breast, and she felt a slight soreness.
Inspection complete, she stretched out on the bed, flexing her feet and toes. She wondered what he had planned for the day.
“Do you plan to fuck me, or may I bathe?” she asked.
His eyes flashed. “Yes, take a bath after breakfast. I’m hungry. Then you can have your massage, can’t you?” He arched a brow.
“Yes, Sir.” She saluted. Her mood remained buoyant following a good night’s sleep. Determined to stay invigorated, she bounced off the bed, pirouetting on her toes towards the bathroom, wriggling her bottom as she went.
“I think that deserves a small spanking, don’t you? Something for later.”
