Page 41 of Judged by Him

His nose lingered in her hair. Jason loved her smell—it was an elixir for his passions. He had watched her all evening. The rise and fall of her bust as she experienced moments of exhilarated excitement, seeing her chips pile up. The hands stroking the circular pieces of plastic. The nape of her neck and the narrowness of her waist. The way her hips swayed when she walked in the high heels. He wanted to drink her, devour her, and he’d had to wait while she played her game of Blackjack. Now it was his turn to play.

He laid his hands on her shoulder straps and stripped her naked, taking his time to savour her smooth skin, the tight fit of the dress, and her lacy lingerie. Pushed down, she lay on the floor as Enrique and Jason systematically bound her body.

Enrique had prepared ropes for him. Not all of the same length, they fulfilled different purposes. Some would bind her arms to her torso, others to bend and splay her legs, and the longest ones to lift and hold her up off the ground. Jason opted to provide plenty of support for her body. In his opinion, she was a novice at suspension, and he didn’t want to put too much strain on her flesh.

He touched her as he encased her in rope. Sometimes a caress then a pinch and, when he had the opportunity, a hard smack to her bottom. If she complained, he warned her and she abated. He licked his tongue over her belly, from her mons to her cleavage, tasting her succulent skin. A feast for the senses.

They had begun with playful words, but as he prepared to hoist her up, he turned to vulgar ones. Her chest rose and fell, listening to what he said to her. She pleaded—her, “please be gentle, Sir” made him chuckle. He would never harm her, but gentleness wasn’t at the forefront of his mind.

As she rose off the ground, she tensed.

“Don’t. Relax or else it will hurt more than you like.”

He would flog her first, to help her give and surrender to him. Once naked, he fisted his hand about his cock, ensuring it extended to its maximum, and smeared some lubricant on it for extra comfort. Gagged, she held a small bell in one hand. If she dropped it, she would be telling him to stop. Enrique, with the benefit of his experience, would watch her carefully, too. Jason rarely suspended any submissive without the presence of another. Fucking a bound woman, hung from the ceiling, brought him to a place of Domspace. Somewhere he would take his pleasure, and rather like subspace, he could stay there in a blissful paradise forever.

***

Gemma’s previous experiences of full suspension were limited to a few occasions with Jason and a number of times with a former Dominant mentor who had plenty of skills in the art of ropework. The helplessness of bondage took her to a new level of submission. She physically floated off, in tune with her mental drifting. To be used for sex while so vulnerable gave her a sublime sense of fulfilment. The ropes would form a pattern about her skin. A different kind of temporary marking to the ones of the impact implements. Being bound, with no freedom to move, she put her faith in Jason completely. She felt both liberated and a binding connection to him—facets no other play could replicate.

Lying on the floor, she watched her husband and his assistant go about their task with minimal communication. Although it had been some years since the two men had last practised their ropework collectively, it appeared as if it had been only yesterday. Whatever Jason required, Enrique passed without a word. While Jason looped his intricate knots, all based on Japanese bondage styles, Enrique supported her body in different positions.

There was nothing tedious or boring about the process of being prepared. It took time, but her husband took little moments to keep her on edge. He flicked her erect nipples like a doctor with a syringe full of liquid. She winced each time his finger landed on her tender flesh with force. When he ran the palm of his hand over her skin, she swooned. When he wished, Jason could impart such a delicate touch and his smooth skin felt almost ticklish.

He flipped her over and bestowed several hard smacks to her bottom.

“Meanie!” she yelped.

“Twenty-five thousand,” he whispered in her ear, and she gulped back another complaint. She had no ground to stand on—just like in her suspension. He could take what he wanted from her as recompense.

“Master,” she muttered, “I’m sorry.”

Jason finished binding her and bringing his hand down to her most delicate part, he cupped it.

“Was is this?” he hissed.

“Your pussy, Sir,” she said quickly.

He slapped it hard, and she bit back a cry. “What is this?” he repeated.

“Your fuckhole,” she answered. Fingers probed, juices flowed about them, and she shivered—the only movement she could achieve with her constraints.

“My hole, yes, to fuck. Mine.”

The moment came for her to be lifted up, and the pulley creaked slightly. Gemma experienced a moment of panic, the sensation she would come crashing down. An unnecessary worry. The ropes were of good quality, soft, but strong. He told her to relax and let go of her fears.

While she hung, he used her as he had promised. She lost most of his actions in a haze of bliss. Both of them had orgasms; however, for Gemma, there were moments of pain, which she absorbed and secretly delighted enduring. He didn’t take her too far. The toys he’d threatened her with were cursory interludes. What she craved, he delivered, and he penetrated, rocking her on and off him. Hearing him grunt, growl, and call her his slut simply added to the thrill. She spluttered nonsense into her gag, sometimes a delightful moan, occasionally a plea for mercy, words she didn’t mean—she clung to the bell tightly.

With her back on the floor, divested of her bindings, he whispered. “Easily worth twenty-five thousand, babe. I would have paid double to do that to you. Good job you’re my sex slave and not a paid whore.” He went to fetch a towel.

“Are my debts repaid, then?” she murmured into the rug when he returned.

“Definitely. How did you find the suspension?” He stroked a stray strand of hair out of her face. Her mascara stained his fingers.

“Are there casinos in London?” she replied. “I might squander more of your money. I liked paying off your debts.”

“You should have a chat with Lubinsky,” he suggested sternly and wi

ped the perspiration off her face with the towel.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com