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I flung myself at him, making him drop his briefcase to catch me in his arms.
“I got the job! I got the job!” I was like an excited school girl.
“Of course you did. I never doubted you,” Jason pushed me away. “We’ll celebrate later, Gemma, I’m very hungry. Please feed me.”
“I start on Monday,” I shouted over my shoulder as I skipped into the kitchen.
***
Lying on the bed, face to face on our sides and staring at each other, we were suitably satiated by frantic love-making. Jason was tracing his finger around one of my erect nipples. I had my hand pressed against his chest, feeling the rapid pounding of his heartbeat as it gradually diminished in pace.
“Was that celebratory enough for you, Miss Marshall?” Blue eyes smiled at me.
I was pleased, as he had stopped work earlier than usual in order to have sex. I nodded appreciatively. He ran a hand down my side to my thigh.
“You’re especially smooth today.” His finger continued down my leg.
“I had a celebratory waxing after they contacted me in the afternoon.”
My hour long interview had been in the morning. It seemed to go well, plenty of affirmative comments on my short presentation. My future boss, Daniel Crosswell, had asked a number of challenging questions, and for a moment, I had lost my confidence. The phone call in the early afternoon was a huge surprise. I had impressed enough to knock the other candidates out quickly. I could not wait for Monday.
“Never knew a waxing could elicit such pleasure in you.” Jason looked incredibly relaxed, most unmasterful. “Just your legs though, you shaved here.” He flicked my pubic bone.
“I don’t do Brazilians without forward planning. I never know when you’re going to fuck me next. Hurts you know!” I reminded him of the post-waxing skin sensitivity.
“There’s still your mouth. I prefer Brazilians. I’m sure we can do forward planning.” He ran his around my groin. “Though what’s wrong with a little discomfort in what is mine to enjoy?”
There was that wicked grin of a man who knew he had a sadistic streak. I was not going to find out what that last statement meant as it frightened me a little.
“I had one former master who liked to do the waxing himself.”
Jason raised an eyebrow at my revelation. “Your previous adventures never cease to amaze me.”
I giggled. “Jason, how did you get started? I mean did you know you were a dominant when you were young?”
Jason’s face was no longer smiling and he looked at me with that unnerving, unreadable expression. Perhaps the past was not an appropriate topic tonight.
“Well... I didn’t wake up one morning and decide to be a dominant,” he paused. “I played the sexual field at university for a couple of years, but didn’t connect with anyone. When I was twenty, in my final year, I met a mature student.”
I looked taken back at the thought, an older woman.
“No, not that mature, Gemma. She was a doing a doctorate. Very quiet lady and I liked her. On our first night out, she never looked me in the eye or spoke out of turn. It was an evening that awoke desires in me. I already knew I innately sought to control people and things, being a dominant gave me chance to do so in a sexual context. Only later, with others, would I discover I enjoyed instilling discipline in women, requiring their obedience, owning their bodies and being in control. Also helping them to realise their desires and fantasies.
“I don’t derive pleasure from dishing out punishments or giving pain without the context of domination. It is being able to have the control over a submissive woman and knowing she is willing to let me punish or discipline her for the purpose of modifying her behaviour. Occasionally I would top a pure masochist, always something to be appreciated.” Jason was being very honest about his motives, not many dominants take the time to understand their actions.
Jason continued. “The doc and I were only together for two terms. Then we went our separate ways. I won’t forget the first time I told her to drop on to her knees and she waited for me to tell her how she could please me. By the time we parted, I had already found my own way and was easily meeting like-minded people.”
I thought of my previous dominants and none of them quite fell into the same bracket as Jason. “Men in positions of power often prefer to be submissive in their free time, not you though?”
“No. I can’t imagine giving myself to another, having another in control of any aspect of my life. I understand though, that those who have much responsibility in their lives want someone else to lead them in their private lives. It’s not for me,” he shrugged dismissing the idea. “In any case submissives have power, you know that. If you left me, I couldn’t stop you. You have your safe-words too.”
Jason tugged at my nipple. “Your turn! Where did my little subbie start out?” He charged me to reveal my past.
“OK. I’d graduated unattached to anyone. I wasn’t a virgin, sorry to say, that went to a spotty guy. A big regret looking back. He fucked me on his brother’s bunk bed, while his parents watched football downstairs. After graduating, I was struggling to find a job in my field and ended up working in this antique bookshop. It was something out of a Dickens’s novel. The proprietor, a smooth gent in his fifties, not only collected books, but m
aps, music, anything on paper that looked old. I worked hard for him, lots of dusting shelves. He liked it clean and old books make a lot dust.”
I shut my eyes reminding the musty smell that emanated from the books.
