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I giggled between slurps, mopping up my mess.
“Calm down. I want to come, not have a bath.” He coiled his fingers into my hair and directed the pace.
The ejaculation took me by surprise. He delivered it with a gasp and a moment
of rigidity in his limbs. I drank the lot as it hit the back of my throat. A fountain of hot cum, and I sealed my lips around his cock, ensuring none escaped. It took several seconds to complete my task then I diligently cleaned him from balls to tip.
He patted my head and hit the button on his seat, raising him up. I slipped his penis back out of sight, and he tugged on his zipper. “I’m tempted to keep you in that state all the way home.”
I settled back on my seat, wiped away my spittle, and waited for permission to re-dress.
He refastened his seat belt. “So pretty. All pink about the cheeks and flushed with excitement. Did you want to come?”
Oh God, yes. The pulsating sensation in my clitoris remained unabated. I nodded, still savouring his taste in my mouth. “But, I’m happy to serve you, Sir.”
“As you should. I’ll think about it.” He started the engine.
“Sir.” I cupped my breasts with my hands and crossed my legs. “Please. What if Joshua wakes?”
“Oh, he’s seen your tits plenty.” He grinned and began to reverse the car out of the layby.
“The windows….” I shrank down in my seat.
“Mmm….” He slid the transmission stick into drive.
I had strange apoplectic concoctions whirring in my head. One half of me would happily throw off her clothes and lounge naked next to him to prove to him I didn’t care. The other half needed resolution and an end to his impromptu scene.
It was a scene. I took a few deep breaths and focused on how I should be thinking, what he expected of me beyond the face fuck.
Had we resolved our differences over our spare time? I didn’t think so. My time came with expectations of flexibility, whereas his was non-negotiable. I decided to keep my contemplations about his working life to myself from now on. What the hell. He earned the millions and kept me in a state of luxury few in the world experienced. Did I have to whinge about showing him my submission? I went to my place of acceptance, and the post-sex euphoria helped cultivate my meekness.
“Sorry about this morning. I was a grouch.”
“Apology accepted. Now you can have your orgasm, babe. Be quick. If you’ve not done it by the time we’ve reached the main road, you’ll have to skip it.”
I twirled my fingers around my clitoris and pinched my nipples. I put on a show, but Jason glued his eyes to the road ahead and ignored me. I managed to come with a mile to spare. I performed a rather spectacular screech, which echoed about the car, and I created a damp spot on the leather seat. I rearranged my clothes before we re-joined the highway.
For the rest of the journey, I stared out of the window and hummed nursery rhymes to my sleeping son.
Once I’d tucked Joshua up in bed at the White House, Jason kept me naked and at his feet for the rest of the evening. Such was my state of submissiveness, when he fucked me tied to the bed, I slipped into subspace and remained there, reposed and content.
Chapter 6. A Cry for Help
On a quiet weekday in the midst of April, my sister-in-law, Gillian, rang to ask if she could meet me for lunch. Out of Jason’s three siblings, Anthony was the one I saw the least and with whom I’d fewest telephone conversations. I liked Gillian. On her own she was a great deal more fun than when her somewhat morose husband accompanied her.
She was in the city on an unknown pretext and, to accommodate her wish to meet, I handed over Joshua to Clara. The unplanned rendezvous required a text to Jason to explain my excursion. Anything not routine, a semi-regular fixture or a typical location, required me to inform him prior to departure. It wasn’t necessarily about gaining permission, merely giving him the comfort of knowing I wasn’t out of his reach.
: Meeting Gillian for lunch at Covent Garden.
: Give her my regards.
We met by the entrance of the Royal Opera House and dined in the restaurant. Gillian appeared flustered, her hair unruly and eyes framed by dark shadows. She lacked her usual refined appearance and fidgeted with her hair, and I struggled to engage her in conversation. She answered simple enquiries about her children in a curt and dismissive fashion. They were fine, doing well at school, and the dialogue dried up. She picked at her food with an expression of misery.
“What’s wrong, Gillian? You didn’t come for a girly chat did you?”
“No, sorry, but I’ve a lot on my mind. Worries.” She sipped on her orange juice. “Big worries.”
Why approach me? We weren’t close, and she had her own sister. “What about?” I put down my cutlery and reached over to give her a reassuring pat on her arm. “Please tell me.”
