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Jason glanced at his watch, ever the timekeeper.
“Time to hit the last nine.”
Over the next two hours, I coped without any embarrassing moments. I managed to acquire an appropriate chair to sit on and I had more success in conversing with the other women. The golfing partners returned as each of their rounds finished. Jason appeared and I could tell by his expression that he had won his game. Taking me around the waist, he murmured in my ear.
“I want a progress report, Miss Marshall.” He lowered his hand and caressed my bottom briefly.
I flinched and he tutted back at me. Some of the others were leaving and the general hubbub died down. Soon we were left with a few couples who were staying for an extended drinking session.
“Come.”
Jason rose from his seat having finished his coffee and led me out of the bar and down a corridor. At the end was an office, he opened the door and I followed him in. He leant back on the door and turned the key in the lock as he did. Moving around the room he systematically closed the venetian blinds blocking out the light and any unintended audience. My heart was beating in my throat.
“This is the club manager’s office. He doesn’t work on Sundays so we won’t be disturbed,” explained Jason.
He went and sat behind the desk, swinging back on the swivel chair, hands behind his head. Blue eyes looking me up and down. I kept my eyes down looking at my feet, hands clasped behind my back. Jason waved me over with a finger and indicated I should stand next to his chair behind the desk.
“Down!” he commanded in that way that made my legs buckled away underneath me.
Oh crikey! I knelt at his feet and steadied my breathing.
His body maybe relaxed but his face had hardened up. “Lift your skirt up.”
I pulled my skirt up high, above my waist, parting my legs more. I knew what he wanted to see.
“Kneel up, so I can touch you.”
I grimaced at the pressure on my kneecaps as they took my weight. He grasped my sex in one hand and began to rub back and forth. I shut my eyes and groaned. Then he smacked me from underneath and I jolted, brought out of my reverie. He pressed a finger on my lower lip, pushing it down to open my mouth. I sucked on it, tasting my own wetness on it.
The shoulder straps of my dress top were roughly pulled down. He pinched my bra cups and uncovered each breast in turn. I must have looked shameless, skirt hitched up and breasts exposed. His fingers pinched my nipples and with a vicious twist of his wrists, he screwed both of my nipples round, pulling them sharply away at the same time. I made a silent scream, too shocked to add sound to the exclamation. Tipping my head back, my chest forward, I clutched my ankles to support my weight. For several minutes, he was exceptionally mean to my tits. Drawing pain out of me slowly and I experienced a brief moment of intense pain before he stopped. His hand stroked me below and for a moment I wondered if I might come with the gesture.
“Such a wet creature down there. I like my girl being wet for me.”
“She is, sir. Ready for you.”
No further words were spoken as he grabbed the hair at the back of my head and pulled my face down to his lap. Unzipping his fly, he held his hard, purple tipped penis in his hands and thrust it in my mouth for me to use. I noisily licked and tongued his substantial shaft, and he leant back, eyes shut, enjoying my blow-job. He quickly showed signs of climaxing, suddenly sitting forward, he pushed me further into his mouth. I gagged and the reflex sent him into a powerful release. Jason hardly made a sound as I swallowed his salty juice. I turned my mouth away and wiped a trickle away from my lips.
“Straighten yourself up. It is time to head home.” He stood and adjusted his trousers. I busied myself with bra and dress.
“Wipe your lips, your lipstick is smudged.” He held my chin, inspecting me.
I took a tissue from the desk top, cleaned my lips and tossed the tissue in a bin. I was so wet below I dreaded sitting in case it soaked through my dress fabric.
“That will do.”
Jason unlocked the door and his face softened. Taking my hand, he patted it.
“I’m pleased, Gemma. A good round of golf followed by a good face fuck. A perfect Sunday don’t you think?”
I gave a fake smile in agreement, deep down I was left used and unfulfilled. I had obeyed him without question and he had given me nothing in return. No orgasm or even a tender caress. I had to remind myself this was what submission was often about - my needs were negligible, his were everything. His Sunday was perfect and my perception of the day was of no consequence to him. A good sub would be over the moon with her performance in the golf club. I wanted something else from him but I knew he was not going to provide me with it - his love.
Arriving back home, Jason requested a full Sunday roast with all the trimmings. I found a fresh chicken in the fridge waiting to be cooked and spent the next two hours pottering around in the kitchen preparing the roast. The main consolation was that he had allowed me to change into clothes that were more casual and I had underwear back on.
“This is great, Gemma. Like my mum makes it,” Jason cleared his plate after having seconds. “Aren’t you hungry?”
I had been eating slowly, too slowly. “I’m fine.”
My answer must have been too terse because he was starting to look annoyed with me.
