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“No,” replied Jason. “I’m a Dominant, and she’s my sub. She may call me Master, but I’ve never formally collared her or entered into a total power-exchange dynamic. We do scenes, kink, and we have a set of basic protocols. We’ve both been Dom and sub for many years, long before we met each other.”
“Michael explained a bit about how he found out. Does your family know, Gemma?” Rebecca shifted her dark eyes to me, and I flinched at their intensity.
“My parents, no. My brother and his wife, yes.”
The conversation developed into a discussion about domination and submission in general, and it became apparent, although Rebecca wasn’t into the kinds of things Jason and I did, she wasn’t ignorant about the vast array of relationships formed under the umbrella of kink. She admitted she didn’t want to be tied up or be spanked. She sought a man to take control and show dominance in the bedroom. Her cheeks turned red when she confessed it turned her on.
“As a defence lawyer, I have to deal with such terrible people. Psychopaths, criminals, and liars. I need an honest man who puts my faith back. By trusting him and letting him control me, I rebuild my belief in man’s better nature. Michael could do that for me. He doesn’t understand how simple it can be.” She gave Michael an almost imploring look, but he looked unconvinced, his eyes darting about the room and his hands clasped together in his lap.
Jason turned to his brother and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Don’t overthink this, Michael. Forget about what you think Gemma and I do. Think what will make you both happy. Negotiate and communicate. How do you like sex? What level of control does Rebecca really seek from you? Does it require protocols, rituals, or behaviour modification? You may need to do little to satisfy her submissiveness, given your time constraints. Gemma and I went years before we even considered being Dom and sub full time, and we’re both experienced.”
“Am I a Dominant, though, Jason?” Michael looked at his girlfriend. “Well, am I? I know I like control in my working life, but does it extend to other areas.”
Jason sat back. “Gemma. Please take your knickers off.”
I suppressed the sensation of what! and put my trust in my Dominant, as I should. I rose and hitched up my skirt. Michael eyes flickered between his girlfriend and me as I slid my fingers up my thighs and pinched the edge of my lacy knickers. Opposite me, Rebecca’s big brown eyes were fixated not on Michael, but Jason. She heard the way he spoke to me—the hypnotic voice he used to control me was one she recognised and perhaps envied.
Jason reached up and touched my leg. “Stop. Sit back down.”
He turned to speak to Michael. “Sometimes just the knowledge she would do anything I ask is sufficient for the pair of us. Her need to be please me and my desire to have her submission. Hence, the need for trust, nothing else. It grows stronger over time and with a great deal of effort. Love strengthens it, passion, too, if you’re sexual in need. I don’t get the impression Rebecca requires much from you haven’t thought about already.” He paused, and Michael started in his chair as if he’d been poked. “We are alike, Michael, in many respects. I know this because you took me to that fetish party years ago. You were curious back then but have denied it ever since. Frankly, you know our little displays turn you on.”
Michael laughed, and tossed his head back. “Fuck, you’ve been waiting to turn the tables for all these years, haven’t you? Expose me and force me to acknowledge the fantasies I keep hidden. I’m not afraid of being a Dominant, but I do fear I will not be what Rebecca wants me to be.” He took his girlfriend’s hand. “If I asked you to take your knickers off for me, would you do it?”
“I would love it if you asked me, Michael, then you would know,” she countered.
To prove the point, he asked her, and she did, there in front of us, and when he told her to stuff them down her bra, she did that, too. Jason’s little lesson had instigated things, and it was down to Michael and Rebecca to explore her submission on their own.
Jason was happy for his brother, so different from his relationship with Anthony, and I suspected Jason would enjoy over the coming months mentoring his brother in becoming a subtle, passionate Dominant who kept his girlfriend happy and, in return, she would help him relax and unwind with sex or doing tasks that thrilled him.
Rebecca told me, during one of our many phone calls, the absence of underwear had developed into an erotic requirement for him and so had ironing his white shirts in the nude—resulting in him fucking her over the collapsed board. She confessed his dominance had grown rapidly in the bedroom once he discovered she was hooked on his advocating voice. To her delight, he asked her to organise a dinner party for her friends, her kind of friends. I believed I became one, too.
Chapter 18. Hung up
During the run up to Jason’s birthday in August, the planned soiree of
kinky friends slipped into its final arrangements. Jason had announced the plan to me, as I’d lain bathed in his semen, covered in scratches from his brushing, and drifting in subspace. Only in the morning had I fully appreciated his request, and I’d been tasked with sorting out the details. Jason’s preferred style of dinner party was not trivial in nature—several courses, silverware, crystal glasses, and smart clothes.
Joshua was due to disappear to his grandparent’s house for the weekend, including the Friday, even though the party wasn’t until Saturday, giving him plenty of time to settle and avoid interruptions on the evening. As far as my parents-in-law were concerned, we were having an adult evening. The exact nature of our gathering wasn’t impressed upon them, but somehow I think they had guessed, given we wanted Joshua out of the house.
The Friday night was my first without him, and I fretted, a wreck of guilty mummy thoughts. Would he settle? Would he wander around Granny’s house in tears, looking for me? Would he reject me when he got back? Jason’s approach to all my rambling fretfulness the day before the dinner was to string me up and “take me thoroughly from tip to toe.”
Jason wouldn’t ever fully suspended me without another present. However, tied up, with some aspect of my body resting on a supportive surface, he deemed less risky. With Joshua gone to his grandparents, Jason had the luxury of time to carry out the intricate rope play needed for suspension.
As he measured out rope and began to bind my torso and breasts, we chatted about the forthcoming evening. We didn’t always talk in the midst of preparations. Sometimes, silence filled the dungeon while Jason fiddled with his coils of rope and knots, preoccupied and concentrating. Other times, he could be jovial and quite happy to engage in animated conversation about his work or my art gallery plans.
Those plans were coming to fruition as I waited for the interior designer and his team to turn my ideas into a physical reality. The opening was planned for the end of September. The first exhibition presented a small collection of my output and three recently graduated artists. A mix of contemporary and classical artwork in oils, pastels, or watercolours.
Today, we talked about food.
“Mrs Harris will be here all tomorrow afternoon to help prepare the food, and Judith will step in if needed,” I told Jason as he looped rope under my breasts. I’d given up asking what he planned to do with me with regard to bondage—he’d give me a rough idea, but little else.
“Please, can you put your hands behind your back.” He bound my arms. “You’ve planned it really well, babe. Try to relax.”
I relaxed my arms, responding to his request. “I know. But I want it to go well, make it good for you. I will miss Josh—”
“And I don’t?” He looped a long length up and around the pulley a couple of times and attached the end behind me. “Bend over.” I obliged, sticking my bottom up. “More. Now, give me your right leg.”
