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He grasped the hem of my skirt and dragged it up to my waist. No knickers, I didn’t wear them at the weekends. He pressed his palm against my mound, triggering a pulse of butterflies in my stomach.
“Tonight, you’ll be fucked hard for my gratification.”
I began to slope backwards, my head falling away over his legs and my back arched across his lap. He sought out my exposed breasts and pinched a nipple, while below a finger sank into my drenched pussy. I lay across his legs, he unwrapped me, poked and prodded, leaving me both apprehensive and delighted.
“Oh God,” I groaned, as his thumb made circles around my clitoris.
“This will be tormented for my pleasure. You will not have permission to come. You will find your submission and cling to it. Sink into it. You will let go and remind yourself who controls you. My dominance will hold sway, undiluted and unabated, until I am satiated.”
He grasped my hair, dragging me up to be level with his face. “Tell me, baby.”
“I’m yours,” I gasped.
He made good on his word, and a long night ensued. I crawled across the floor of the lair at one point in a futile attempt to escape him. My inelegant scuttle, conducted in the midst of my nervous giggles, wasn’t due to pain or fear, but because if he’d laid a finger on me, I would have come.
I applied every trick in my repertoire to hold my orgasm at bay. In the end, he didn’t fuck me to my orgasm, neither did he spank me or use some wicked toy on my poor clit. Instead, he bound me with ropes, creating an intricate pattern of knots, contorting me and lacing me up as if to clothe me in netting. With me left there, on the floor and immobilised, he waited.
While I concentrated on breathing, he commanded me to look at him. Jason, stretched out naked on the bed, fingered his spent cock. His demeanour was exactly what I needed. Pure dominance fed successfully by my unrelenting submission. Even the clover clamps, which he’d attached to my nipples, had been part of his game plan to bring me to this point.
I folded away my negative thoughts, allowing him to plug my sieve of leaky submission with his dominance. My regret at not showing gratitude to Jason and his unstinting team of protection officers I would right in the morning with a heartfelt apology. I felt at peace and deep in subspace.
“Come!”
Still trapped by my bindings, my orgasm lingered for an eternity. After Jason had untied me, I succumbed to sleep in his arms.
Chapter 14. An Education
The twin challenges of work and siblings settled, and Jason rediscovered the friskier elements of his dominance after many weeks of subdued play.
Determined to rectify my recent misdemeanours, we entered a phase of trying out new ways to maintain my submission. He pushed my pain limits, and the sadist re-emerged. I relented to his demands because it helped conquer his stress, and the games he devised thrilled and aroused me, something I struggled to acknowledge.
While the weekdays remained hectic and rarely provided free time, the weekends proved to be more accommodating. He summoned me to his Blythewood study not long after breakfast and thrust a piece of paper into my hand: a list of essential oils and other ingredients.
I ran my finger over the words, my jaw dropping. “Seriously, I’ve got to buy this stuff?”
My insides somersaulted, forced to respond to the sudden release of adrenaline, while my brain echoed other ideas. No way is he touching me with anything on this list.
“Health food store. There’s one in the local town.” He continued to stare at his monitor, waving me away.
Standing at the cashier’s desk in the store, I watched the assistant put my shopping into a carrier bag. I avoided looking at him or the strange collection of small bottles: tiger balm, cinnamon oil, peppermint oil, wintergreen oil, and clove oil. Did it shout kink? It did to me.
I buried my trepidation for most of the day by sweating away in the garden digging up potatoes while Joshua dug for worms.
My nerves went ballistic not long after Jason strapped me to the gynaecological examination table in the lair. With my legs spread wide on the stirrups, Jason spoilt me—his words, but not mine—with a lesson in chemical play.
After he’d ramped up with a good flogging, he entombed my vision with a blindfold and tied my wrists above my head. I held my breath, waiting for the first touch, wondering if it would sting, burn, or soothe. I’d tried toothpaste on my clit—a frivolous moment of adventure with one of my early Doms. The memories flooded back, I’d giggled and squawked a great deal.
Jason had diluted the oils, he reassured, acknowledging my lack of experience before smearing them on my clitoris, labia, or nipples.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” I writhed in my bonds, responding to the tingles, fiery heat, and other strange sensations.
If he’d had a clipboard, I suspected Jason would have been making notes as if he were professor and I, his lab rat. I ceased fighting my bonds and conjured up an image then lost myself in a fantasy world of mad scientist and debauched experimentation.
I needed to orgasm, but no permission was given. The chemical play along with the gynae table and bondage had put me in a state of delicious helplessness. My silly utterances, attempts at squirming away, shrieks, or uncontrollable fits of giggles entertained my Dominant. I heard the chuckles and felt the slaps when I got too frisky with my swearing.
Verging into addled state and drifting on the fringe of subspace, I wasn’t surprised he ended the session.
“Well done, babe.” He removed the blindfold. “I diluted them quite a bit, since you’re new to many of them. But I’m impressed. We can build up the concentrations gradually.”
