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Jason’s face was annoyingly blank. Whatever he thought about the rules, he obviously didn’t want it to cloud her thoughts. “If you weren’t daunted by this, I would think there was something wrong with you.” He glanced over to where Joshua stirred in his crib.
“What do you want, Jason?” Mutual consent was critical to success.
“I am happy for us to return to the arrangement we had in place before you were pregnant, Gem. You know I never would demand you be mine for 24/7 or for indefinite periods. I don’t need you waiting on me or giving your life to serve me or anything that involves micromanaging you.”
“So you don’t want this?” She waved the piece of paper in his face.
A slowly drawn smile formed across his face.
“I didn’t say that. I had assumed you wouldn’t want or need to be controlled like this. All along, since I’ve been your Dominant, you’ve shied away from needing anything continuous. Your recovery from your assaults took precedence over my wishes to impose on you something I believed you weren’t capable of achieving. To have you accessible to me all day, any day, is not something you seemed to desire, and you rejected me once because of your fears. For me, I would love to fuck you when I want, how I want. To have you naked for me at my command. To have this delicious body of yours and discipline you for my pleasure. Does that not sound like a Dominant’s paradise?”
Gemma had to admit, from his point of view, it did sound amazingly erotic and fulfilling.
He sighed. “I’m not going to force you. I never expected this kind of arrangement, Gem, not in my wildest dreams. I put it out of my mind every time we’ve discussed your submission. I told you in New York, in the first year of our marriage, I was satisfied with your submission, your limits, your availability, and sexual skills. I still mean it. We can go back to how we were. I wouldn’t make you something you’re not.”
She contemplated his words. Was she pushing herself to be something she wasn’t? She was adamant he wouldn’t treat her as a full-blown slave, not in the context of the BDSM world. The agreement gave her plenty of freedoms—for speech, leisure, and career. The restrictions on her diet had gone, although he had added one rule that was a catch all—instigating temporary measures to achieve particular goals. There were no rituals described, no mention of how she should address him other than with respect. Nor had he laboured to produce a list of specific chores or services beyond sexual ones.
As if he read her mind, Jason spoke again. “I’m not a machine. I’m not going to be fucking you day and night, every day. Remember how we were before I asked you to marry me. I was busy and tired during the week. That doesn’t change. We will have the romance, the vanilla nights, and all that. I know it is important to you. To be treated as a wife, to be seduced. All we’re doing is removing time limits and making it explicit that you’re mine to control. No more ambiguity about what to expect from me. Your marriage vows become your submissive rules. The loose ends tied up. You are my obedient wife and sub.”
“I don’t want be a fuck vessel.... I would be a hypocrite. I’ve always told you I don’t want to be a sex slave.” She recalled all the indignant tirades—on the plane to New York and at the apartment there—when she had spoken with determination about her wishes.
“Definitely not. Be realistic. I’m working. You’re a new mum. What little time left in the day for the pair of us will be limiting in itself. What I will be able to do for you is help you. Make sure you don’t fall prey to your low self-esteem, your lack of discipline about your goals in life, and ensure you stay positive, occupied, and content with being a mum. That you continue to learn and discover yourself. In return, you will give me your obedience, your masochist pain, and your wonderful orgasms. You will thrill me with your submission, and I get to own you;your sexual being will be mine to possess. Everything this beautiful body has to offer me. I will always love you and take care of you. You are mine, babe.”
Owned. Possessed. His.
All words that called out to her innate need to be given over to somebody. She wanted him then. Sod Maggie, let him loose on me. However, Jason’s self-control was exemplary. Behind his facade of willpower, he must want her. Gemma disciplined her trembling fingers and tightened her grip on the piece of paper. She contained her fantastical thoughts of lust.
“What do my safe-words mean? Specifically ‘red’ in this context?”
“Yellow remains the same—mercy. Red ends a scene. It provides a break from each other, especially if you think I’m being unreasonable with regard to your abilities. It doesn’t rescind the agreement or the rules. That would take more than one safe-word. If you don’t want to be my submissive, we would end the agreement and start again from scratch, like after I proposed to you. No tinkering with rules every week to fit your moods. They must have staying power, and we will renegotiate them after a suitable time frame. It would defeat the purpose of controlling you to bend them to your will. This is different from anything we’ve done before.” He squeezed her hand. “Don’t decide now.”
Joshua started to cry. Gemma rolled off the bed. The conversation had reached a natural conclusion.
The next day, Maggie gave her the all-clear.
“This is the end of our formal arrangement.” Maggie printed off the discharge letter. “You’ve not suffered with the blues too much?”
“A little, to be honest. Jason stepped in, all D
om on me, and we’re going to try something new. Me being his submissive on a full-time basis.” Her voice wavered. Just saying it made her nervous.
“Are you sure about that? Sounds like a big commitment.”
“Oh. Kind of, yes, it is. Well, actually, no.” She halted. Maggie’s eyebrows had knitted together in a confused expression. Gemma took a deep breath. “Nothing really much is going to change. To the outside world, we will continue to be Mr and Mrs Lucas. When we are in the company of others, nothing will show of what we are to each other. The precious time we have to ourselves won’t amount to much. I vowed to obey him as is wife. So I am his sub, his wife, and a mum. A triad of roles.”
Explaining to Maggie convinced Gemma she wanted to commit to Jason’s control over her life. His rules. She itched to tell him.
The day dragged as she waited for him to arrive at Blythewood. She painted in the atelier while Clara pushed Joshua around the extensive grounds in his pram. Later, Clara left, and not long afterwards, Jason greeted Gemma in the hallway. She held Joshua in her arms. He tickled his son’s cheek with his little finger.
“Well?”
She rocked Joshua and smiled at her husband. “I’m fine. Everything is fine. Dinner is ready.”
After eating, Gemma showed him her latest painting. She’d propped it up on a chair in the sitting room. A picture of the atelier with Joshua asleep in his crib.
Jason sipped on his glass of wine. “It’s lovely, darling. I’m pleased the atelier is working out for you.”
Upstairs in the master bedroom, Joshua took an eternity to fall asleep. She resorted to having him next to her in bed, massaging his tummy and singing lullabies. Finally, the baby nodded off. She dozed, vaguely aware of Jason arriving in the room, moving about. Opening her eyes, she watched him scoop up Joshua with his long-fingered hands and lay him in his crib next to the bay window.
