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Sixth form had loomed and I had naturally assumed I would study ‘A’ level art, perhaps with business studies and computing. An eclectic mix of subjects but I had been seeking enjoyment not a career. My mum had frowned and said it was a waste of a valuable grade for entry into university. What possible vocation did I have in mind?
Marketing brochures, graphics for computer games, I had suggested feebly. Nothing had been good enough. I was to go to university, not art college and above all else have a profession that paid the rent. My art teacher had commiserated and promptly accepted another job at a different school. My mentor gone, I had floundered and wavered. I backed down and chose mathematics as a substitute for art. Another one of my A grades and my maths teacher had been just as keen for me to go far. His mouth had reached my parent’s ears and it had been decided. Business schools beckoned. Art was a hobby I had been told with a dismissive tone.
My career had been mapped out, my university courses chosen and even what to wear at the interviews. I did not care that it had all been decided for me. Having been denied my preference I had been content to let others control my future. A feature of my adult awakening. Unburdened of life's big decisions I had concentrated on the easier ones: boys, parties and exotic underwear.
My fingers were too cold. The air was turning frosty and I flipped my sketchpad cover over to hide my latest attempt. I still had it, the skill, and the ability to be a fully-fledged artist. I never had the time, support or opportunity to go back and pick up where my art teacher had left me. Perhaps with Jason that would change. I had space, time and if I wanted it, money, to turn my hobby into something that would inspire me once again.
***
Another evening and a post-dinner relaxation by the fire with a book. Jason reached across and snatched the book out of my hand chucking it on to the floor at my feet. Dinner was over and he was replenished with renewed energy.
“Enough.” He reached for my hand and pulled me to my feet. His mouth was on mine, nibbling at my lips and down my neck. I sighed with delight and stood on my tiptoes to match him. He stopped, looking down at my feet and stared at me, those blue eyes looked darker than usual. They were glistening in the firelight, something had entered into head.
“Go. I’m getting impatient for you.”
I quickly hurried to his lair. It felt like an age since we had last been in his room. I undre
ssed in a frenzy, and took up position by the divan. I heard my pulse pounding in my ears - a deafening noise in the quiet room. He approached me from behind. I shut my eyes and inhaled a deep breath. He was with me.
I was hanging from the grid, cuffs around my wrists and my ankles were strapped together. My feet on tiptoes taking my weight or else I had to suspend myself using my arms. Shifting between my arms and legs, I tried to relieve the aching. Jason had taken his time binding my breasts with rope, making them pert and the nipples stand out a deep purple colour. Across the flesh of my breasts and buttocks, I could imagine tiny red streaks, flecks on my pink skin. He had been using a deerskin flogger on me, each tail tipped at the end with a small bead. I was blindfolded and I could hear his breath, his footsteps stalking around me, and then the rush of air as the flogger descended on me. To make me even more aroused, he had inserted a small vibrator into me. It gently buzzed inside, warming me and, accompanied by each stroke of the flogger, sent me into oblivion. I moaned in one moment and in the next yelped as the flogger stung my sensitised flesh. I did not know how long I had been suspended, an eternity if you were not allowed to orgasm.
“Oh please, please,” I begged repeatedly.
His voice softly replied from somewhere near me each time. I was beginning to drift off as I filled my head with meandering images of my favourite paintings. If he would not let me come, I had to be somewhere else, away from my tingling needy sex organ. The pain was not bad and the rhythm of his blows had a desired impact on my neurochemicals, I was swimming in a trance of submissiveness.
“No!” His louder negative response to my latest mumbled beseeching made me jump out of my gloopy place.
Suddenly my arms were going numb and tingling with pins and needles. The lack of blood to my hands was taking its toll. He must had seen me slump, my toes tucked away under me, rather than bent to support me.
“Gemma, I’m taking you down.”
The cuffs were released and my arms dropped to my sides, the sudden rush of blood made my arms heavy and numb. The dripping wet vibrator was removed. He picked me up and lay me face down on the bed, untying my legs and breasts too. There was a pause while he went and fetched something from the bathroom. I smelt scent, a strong sweet fragrance. He sat astride my legs, not resting his weight on me. Smooth, well-oiled hands were on my back and slowly he started to massage my shoulders and back.
“Good?” he asked.
“Oh God yes,” I sighed, the sensation was returning to my arms.
He worked down my back towards my buttocks and began to knead my cheeks with his knuckles. Fingers slipped between my buttock cheeks. I tensed slightly.
“Shhh, baby. I am preparing you.”
He spread my cheeks and started rubbing oil on his hands. Oh my, his intentions were becoming clearer and his erection was resting on my bottom. A well-oiled finger poked into my bum hole.
“Lift you bottom up,” instructed Jason and he placed a couple of cushions under my hips. “Ready for me?”
“Yes, sir. Please can I come for you?”
“Sure, baby, you’ve been very patient.”
His cock pushed against me, he met some resistance, and then he entered, stretching my insides. He leant down into me and I heard him groan in delight. “So fucking tight, you gorgeous girl.”
I quivered at his erotic comment. It became a long sensual fuck, he took his time and eased in and out as if he was doing press ups on me. I gripped the sheets with my hands and pushed my hips back against him, meeting each thrust. The trembling sensation built and I could not contain myself. I rubbed my clit up and down on the fabric of the pillow as I moved with him and came.
“Arggghhh, fuck! Fuck!”
I was increasingly vocal. The strain of being suspended and flogged had made me keener and my skin super sensitive to touch. He pressed down on me and filled me with his warmth. My bum was hot all over, inside and out. He rested there until he was aware that he was too heavy on me. He withdrew and stood by the bed, reaching down he removed my blindfold.
“Bath.” He went to turn the taps on and I staggered to my feet, following him in.
