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“I know, but it wouldn’t be a full blown Master/slave-type relationship. I just want your control in my life to a degree that helps me cope and gives you pleasure. To submit to your will as you wish, and then, when we have sex, I would be there ready for you. I’ve missed being available to you. It’s a struggle, sometimes, but that kind of submissive is now all I desire to be.”
“I’ve always sought your consent. I wouldn’t want to place you under any obligation.”
“I think we’ve grown to know each other well enough that verbal consent isn’t always the way you call me to play or do a scene. Sometimes you have to cajole me, like on holiday, or when I disobey, resist you. I trust you. You would never hurt me. It’s been a long time since you took my submission for granted. I have my dignity.”
“I would never take your submission for granted. I’ve made that mistake in the past. I don’t want to lose your trust.” He paused, contemplating. His finger moved from her face, and he rubbed it along his chin. “Rules. We had rules for your pregnancy. Do we define the boundaries, my expectations of you? I don’t want you to accuse me of suffocating you.” He offered her clothes. “Put them back on, Gem. You look cold.”
She hadn’t noticed her post-orgasm shivers. “Yes, rules would be alright. Nothing detailed. I can’t abide those long lists of rituals some subs harp on about.”
“Fine. I don’t want them either. For one thing they’re bloody hard work to maintain, discipline wise.”
There was a period of silence while she got dressed and he ruminated. Standing up, he walked about the room and opened the blinds. The spring sunshine blazed down, brightening the decor.
“They would have to incorporate your time with Joshua. I want you to find some occupation for yourself, Gemma. Seriously. Go and meet your Zumba friends; take him with you. I have no issue with you breastfeeding in public places as long as you are discreet.”
“Okay. I would like that. I thought I might go back to my Pilates class while I’m breastfeeding. Build my energy levels back up.”
“And your stomach muscles. I want that shapely figure back.” He wagged a playful finger. “You look pale. Go and see that GP of yours and check you’re not anaemic. I want Joshua weighed ev
ery two weeks. Make sure he’s growing properly, and it will reassure you he is getting enough milk.”
The plans came together quickly. Back in his hands, she felt a sense of calm purposefulness.
Jason straightened her shirt collar. “Unfortunately, I have to return to work. I have a meeting I need to be present at.” He stared down at his suit. “Shit! I’m covered in your slobber.” He grimaced, but his eyes betrayed his emotions—they twinkled.
He bent over to give her a brief kiss on the lips.
“I love you so much,” she said.
“I know.”
Chapter 12. Beginning again
Dr Blanchard confirmed Jason’s diagnosis.
“You’re mildly anaemic. Just on the threshold of iron deficiency. I won’t prescribe tablets, but you need to increase the iron content in your diet. Green leaves, fortified cereals, that sort of thing.”
Gemma visited the GP the day after Jason’s intervention. The doctor called Joshua sweet. Gemma suspected she said that to all new mums. She explained about her lethargy and feeling low. Her diligent doctor asked a string of probing questions then she reassured Gemma she wasn’t suffering from postnatal depression, just a bout of baby blues.
“Get those good vibes going, Gemma. A brisk walk with a push chair.”
Gemma opted to register Joshua at a surgery closer to the White House. A private practice with a full array of services including baby-weighing sessions, yoga classes for stressed-out parents, and healthy-diet workshops. Compared to her own surgery, the place had a gentle, quiet atmosphere and suited her requirements.
The other stipulations Jason had suggested followed. She re-joined her Pilates class, choosing one on a Wednesday afternoon and leaving Joshua with Clara. When it came to leaving him, her leaden legs could barely cross the threshold of the front door. For a moment, she felt like a terribly bad mother, abandoning her son to accommodate her own indulgences. The crippling guilt went with her in the car. Anxiously picking at her leggings, she came close to asking Gibson to turn the car around and take her home. She didn’t. She held firm and left the class feeling invigorated.
The despondency lifted further when she took Joshua to see her Zumba friends for the first time. Though not able to do the intense workout—she didn’t want to shake her breasts about—she had the opportunity to sit and chat with her friends as they met afterwards in their usual café. They made comments about his dainty looks, discussed whether his eyes would be blue or green and, of course, admired his hair. The newborn locks had nearly all fallen out and revealed, underneath, another dusting of blondness.
The Thursday before she had her six-week checkup with Maggie, she and Jason discussed the new set of protocols for her submission. He hadn’t rushed to provide her with written details. He waited for her to put in place the other measures.
She presented her new routine to him after dinner, lying on the bed at the White House: the mums’ support group she would meet at a local church hall, Zumba on Mondays, Pilates on a Wednesday, and she would forgo salsa classes until she’d weaned Joshua off her milk. She would have a weekly massage, wax, and pedicure on a Thursday and have Joshua weighed once a fortnight until he was weaned.
“Good,” said Jason and handed her a sheet of paper to read through. “I don’t think these will surprise you. They are basically what they were when we first met, without the pregnancy ones, and no time limits, of course.”
Gemma’s first reaction, upon reading the new set of rules, was Oh my God, what am I doing? The time limit’s gone and her submission to be uninterrupted. She had never given any Dom such a gift on an indefinite basis. She’d been submissive for weekends with some of her previous Dominants, her holidays with Jason, and for the duration of her pregnancy. What she held was a substantial undertaking. No restrictions on her sexual use, with the exception of stated hard limits.
The second reaction: a tingling, electric buzz in her clit. Merely reading the rules filled her with erotic excitement. Her breast constricted and she was convinced milk leaked into her pads.
Gemma turned on to her side to face him, biting her lip, uncertain as to the nature of her emotions. Was she up to the task?
