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“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 quickly 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.

Chapter 9

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.

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