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“She wouldn’t have taken your card if she’d been offended.”
Jason admitted to me he’d arranged for another Dominant to contact Mark, enabling the young Dom to build a useful network.
Jason, in his Dom mode, remained affable and polite towards his employee. Mark thanked him for his help, but also made a point of saying he didn’t need threats to keep his mouth shut about Jason’s connections. I could picture the pair of them: CEO facing off his subordinate, deciding how to play out their encounter.
Jason could not temper his curiosity about the younger man. I speculated it was because Mark was an earlier version of Jason, however, my husband didn’t reveal his motives to me. He’d asked about Mark’s preferred style of domination. Like subs, Doms came in many varieties, depending on their tastes and goals.
Rather like Jason, Mark’s preference turned out to be predominately sexual submission. “Obedient in bed and daring to try out something new,” Jason repeated Mark’s summation. “He’s a potential sadist, too,” Jason deduced, when Mark described scenes involving intense bondage and pushing a sub’s pain limits as an achievement, a source of pleasure for him.
“He’s going to find meeting a new sub a challenge,” I remarked.
Jason agreed. “Finding the pain slut rather than kinky spanking lovers is difficult. They trust the Doms who care,” Jason had told him. “But humiliate and torment them, they’ll want more, if it’s done right. Staying consistent requires skill.”
The two men had moved on to discuss company business, and he had been pleased to find his new employee knew his stuff. I didn’t learn much else about their encounter, except Jason smirked and I waited patiently at his feet for an explanation for the expression.
“We’d shaken hands. Mark appeared a little worried, the first time I’d seen him so. He wanted to know how to explain our meeting to his colleagues. After all, I don’t personally welcome new staff at his level.”
“So, what did you suggest?” I asked.
“We both went to Oxford and were presidents of the chess club.”
“The old boys’ alumni excuse. Plausible.”
“It sufficed. I pointed out it was better than the best beeswax for floggers. He went somewhat pale at that remark.”
Mark then knew I’d told Jason the finer details of our encounter and the revelation would cement the understanding that Jason didn’t forget such things. Mark had best behave. While Jason returned to his reading, I rested my head on his lap with a weird sensation I’d be meeting Mark Cleveland again.
Chapter 17. The Other Submissive
I had spread the photographs across the kitchen table and proceeded to regroup and shuffle them about. Each photo reproduced a picture, one of my potential exhibits for the opening exhibition at the gallery. Numerous students had submitted portfolios in the hope they would be picked for my first exhibition. The stress of choosing worthy contenders mounted with each passing day. Presented with numerous styles, techniques, content and vision, I floundered, unable to make a final decision. My own portfolio remained incomplete, adding to the stress.
Collecting the pictures, I began to slip them into a folder, when the doorbell rang.
To me, Michael was Jason’s younger twin. Blond, blue-eyed, but leaner than Jason—he lacked the muscular finish of my husband. Their mannerisms were similar, too, notably the observant eyes. Michael’s followed me about as I made a cup of tea for him then he watched his nephew play with a dumper truck in the breakfast room with his nanny.
Michael lived on the other side of London in the northern suburbs. Working as a prosecuting barrister, he spent much of his time in his chambers or in court. Gifted in the art of interrogation, rather like Jason, he had the ability to tease out people’s inner thoughts and force witnesses to betray themselves before others. He invariably won his cases. Even with his infrequent visits, he and Jason were close, unlike Anthony.
“Jason will be home soon. I’ve texted him, and he’s driving back as we speak.” I poured hot water into the teapot. “How is Rebecca?”
“Good. I hoped to chat to Jason about her.”
I stirred the pot, wondering why he’d want to speak to Jason about his girlfriend. “Oh? You two still planning on moving in together?” The slow-burn relationship seemed to be heading towards commitment territory, according to Jason’s last update.
“Something has come up, and I need advice.”
He hadn’t answered my question. “Sounds worrying.”
He took off his jacket and sat at the kitchen table. The warm evening sun cast lovely shadows around the work surfaces—the shadows of tree branches waving in the breeze. I heard Joshua giggling in the next room. He wanted to see his daddy before bedtime.
“Nothing terrible. She had been holding back on telling me something, and it’s kind of a bizarre thing. One of life’s great coincidences, to be honest. She had been dreading telling me for months and months.”
“Telling you what, Michael?” I joined him at the table.
I couldn’t believe it—he blushed as he accepted the cup and saucer. “Last week, she made a confession. I think she thought I wouldn’t understand, or I’d end it. But, because of what you did at my parents, the way you set the table….” Michael took a deep breath. “She told me she is a submissive. Like you, Gemma.”
I dropped my teaspoon with a clatter. “Really?”
I’d met Rebecca a handful of times and, on each occasion, other family members were present. She was a confident woman and very pretty, too. A solicitor by profession, she’d met Michael through a mutual court case and the two hit it off straightaway.
