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“You became distressed with memories, and instead of talking them through with me, you hung up. Another weight.”
She gritted her teeth and tried to lower her body so the weights would rest on the table, but he had bound her too tight to move. The next weight tipped her up to the top of her pain scale.
“Argh. Fuck!” He was edging her too close to the precipice. The all-important safe-word hovered in the background.
A finger patted her cheek. “Where are we at, Gemma?”
“Nine, Sir,” she rasped.
She indicated her score out of ten. Ten being the threshold of intolerable pain. She concentrated her thoughts on anything other than her tormented breasts—the property she would be viewing on Monday, even the blackmail situation seemed appealing to a mind desperate for distractions. He didn’t want her drifting, losing focus. He flicked the weight, and she screeched another expletive, bringing her back into the room.
“Finally. You ignored my calls. Made me wait for, what? Four or five hours to speak to you. Thousands of miles away, in another country, wondering if you were all right, and you didn’t ring or answer my calls. I was, am, seriously pissed off, Gemma. A very, very unhappy Master. Why? Did you think I’d be cross with you for being blackmailed?”
The pain in her nipples spiked. He wanted her to speak, but she could barely breathe! “Josh was being difficult—”
“You’re blaming our son?” He stood up straighter, leaning on the flat of his hands rather than his elbows. She had to peer up to see his face and his lips, angled downwards, pressed together, told her everything.
“No! I was busy....” she blustered. Now a tear escaped.
“Busy. I was in bloody meetings, and you were too busy to even attempt to contact me!” He shook his head. He returned to having his elbows on the table, bringing them face to face again. Closer, this time. Nose to nose. His blue eyes unblinking as hers flitted about, trying not to meet his gaze.
“You don’t have an excuse do you?”
Gemma gave up. “No, Sir.”
It didn’t matter that she had been cross with him. That wasn’t the point, as
far as Jason was concerned. She understood his perspective. He couldn’t control her over such long distances if she didn’t communicate with him. Ignoring him had effectively cut off his domination, made him impotent and ineffective. Gemma had, for those few hours ceased to be his submissive, at least in terms of the practicalities of their dynamic.
“Another weight, Gemma.”
“No! Please no! Please, Master. I can’t,” she sobbed, straining to move away from him.
He hovered with the weight in his fingers, dangling it by her face.
“No? You get to say no?” Cocking his head to one side, he swung the weight.
Gemma came close to offering him anything, but since anything could include adding the weight, it was a pointless alternative. She gazed at him with her most pitiful expression of supplication.
“Please accept my heartfelt apologies. I was scared. I’m allowed to be scared, aren’t I?”
“Of me?” retorted Jason, snatching the weight into the palm of his hand.
She shook her head. “No. Of my memories. The changing room didn’t cross my mind. But hanging up…. I heard what you said about my judgement—” Gemma gasped with the pain of her nipples. “I can’t do this, tell you, with these fucking things hanging off me.”
Jason swiftly removed the weights, but left clamps in place. He cupped her clammy face in his hands. “You shouldn’t have left it so long, Gem, before ringing me back. I hate being apart from you and not knowing if you’re safe. Don’t be afraid.”
The pain eased. Gemma relaxed. “I will try.”
His mouth encased hers, pressing hard against her lips. One of his more desperate kisses, which consumed her and brought butterflies storming out of her belly.
His hands and lips slipped away. No smile, but his features softened. “Ready for me? I need this, babe. Taking you hard brings you back to me, makes me fly. It does you, too. You need it.”
Denial would be pointless. Throughout his tormenting nipple play, her traitorous sex had given him all that he desired. If he touched her pussy, he’d feel the lush wetness and the swollen labia. He’d see the flush of pink signalling her availability.
“Sir, I’m always ready for you,” she said sheepishly.
With no more words spoken, he stripped out of his clothes. A swift, easy penetration from behind. Her slick interior gave no resistance. He knocked against her with his ferocious pummels. Hard, he had warned, and hard she got. He swung her on and off his erection, and he loosened the ropes slightly so her upper body could sway in time to his movements. She could feel the thickness of his cock stretch her with every thrust and with it came the flowing juices, squirting about him. Her arms had been bound behind her back, and he held onto them for leverage, crashing into her bottom as he screwed in and out of her flowing channel.
