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I snorted, still not convinced. “You’re gifted. Talents that made you a billionaire at a ridiculously young age. Nothing you have mentioned has worked against you. How can they be flaws?” I grumbled.
“You didn’t know me fifteen years ago. I’d no interest in personal relationships beyond sex. I pushed my family to the fringes. I still love money, empire building, and destroying my competitors and yes, my exterior persona may not have changed much to those who have a cursory relationship with me—they see me as cold, indifferent, and uncaring—but, inside, I’m a different man.”
“If you can see your flaws, why is it you get to correct mine, but yours remain unaltered? Don’t you want to improve yourself? Why is it only subs who get moulded, shaped by their Doms?”
“Babe, don’t underestimate your influence. The reality is you are reshaping me. I’ve discovered love. I would have laughed at anyone back then who proposed I should find love in my life. You reconnected me with my family, gave me Joshua, extended my generosity with those about me who matter to me. That is your influence. I’m not perfect, however, I don’t advertise my failings for others to use as weapons against me.”
If he confessed to failings, he had none when it came to taking care of his body. Watching him work out in our gym or swim in the pool, I counted my blessings that my Master was
a man who remained fit and healthy. Rippling muscles, which were strong enough to carry me as if I were a feather. Jason was amazingly ageless in his physique. It would catch up with him eventually, and I would join him: wrinkles, grey hair, and flab. Yet, in the darkness of my hood, calm and still, he remained youthful and as attractive as the day I met him.
“Yes,” I declared. “I’m ready.”
I was his, and wanted nothing more in life than to be his devoted submissive and to keep him as my sensual, caring Dominant.
Chapter 22. The Ceremony
With the hood removed, I thanked Damien and, in a calmer frame of mind, went in search of my friends. They tidied my hair into neat braids, reapplied my makeup, and ensured any bareness was smooth and unadulterated by rogue hairs.
Maria had tucked small white flowers amongst my braids to match what little attire I wore—a white lacy corset with sequins forming a heart shape across the front and white stockings.
Throughout those preparations, Jason occupied my visions—how he would adore my sensual assets, and I couldn’t wait for him to take his pleasure. Whatever he wished for, I would give him gladly.
Jason was dressed in black cotton slacks and a white shirt. Quite informal, by his standards, but smart and the loose fitting attire enhanced his natural charisma. He waited by the fireplace with the other Doms, all clothed in a similar style.
With my nerves causing pandemonium across my body, I inched my way towards Jason with small steps, keeping my eyes on him the whole time. He showed no emotion, at first, or perhaps, more accurately, he was unsure how much emotion to display because, when his face opened up with a smile, his white teeth glistened. I soared, rising up onto my tiptoes as I stepped closer. I wanted nothing more than to be at his feet and saying the words I had scored into my pounding heart.
Garratt placed a small white cushion in front of him. “Kneel, Gemma.” He pointed at the cushion, and I slithered down, making myself comfortable and keeping my eyes low, while I waited for Jason to speak. In his hands he held my collar necklace. He had removed it in bed last night, creating a strange absence around my neck, an unwanted emptiness.
He tilted my chin up with the tips of his fingers, and I gazed into the searing blue eyes, flinching at the intensity of colour and brightness. Their power over me remained undiminished since the first time he’d looked at me. Before he spoke, he caressed one of my cheeks with the back of his hand. A gentle, calming stroke to help steady my nerves.
“Gemma. From this day and all of our days together I will own you, keep you safe, cherish and love you. You have placed your trust in me, and I take that responsibility seriously. I promise to protect and care for you. Your feelings and needs will be honoured to the best of my ability. I will continue to nurture your submission. I will give you the wings you need to take flight and achieve your goals. This necklace is a symbol of my commitment to you, wearing it demonstrates your trust and faith in me.”
I gulped back my emotions, close to a flood of tears at his tender words. It took some moments to steady my trembling hands and remember my pledge, the words I must say. I inhaled deeply, closed my eyes briefly, and then, when I refocused on Jason’s face and his warm expression, I was ready.
“Jason. I promise to give you my best. My sexual body and soul are yours to own for your pleasure. My love is yours. My trust and faith in you is unbreakable. I promise to be honest, to accept your guidance and communicate my feelings. I will listen to your needs, and will honour your trust in me. Master, I give you my love, my being, and my life for you to keep safe. I am devoted to serving you and willingly submit to your dominance.”
With the necklace returned to its rightful place, I took his hand, and Jason drew me up to stand before him.
“Babe, I love you,” he murmured.
“I love you.”
Our kiss was greeted with applause, and my insides were crippled with an unquenchable need to show my love. I would have to wait, as he held me tight and we murmured to each other words of love nobody else should hear.
Our little private revelry over, the others came and offered their personal congratulations. We drank champagne and opened gifts: a book on Japanese bondage from Garratt and Judith, two gold ankle chains for me from Sebastian and Zoe and, from Damien, an elaborately embroidered blindfold with soft velvet lining and suede wrist cuffs. Enrique gave me one of his pictures. I gasped in surprise, as it wasn’t one of his usual caricatures of erotica; instead, he’d created a simple portrait of Jason and me standing on the deck of our yacht in a gentle embrace.
“From a photograph I took,” he explained, his cheeks flushed. The picture was drawn in pencils and perfectly executed. At last, we had a portrait we could hang in a public space.
“It’s beautiful, Enrique, thank you.” I kissed his pink cheek.
After a brief period of relaxation, the long-awaited spell in the dungeon and my piercing approached.
I didn’t expect my memory of Jason’s planned scenes to hold fast in my mind, given my tendency to drift into subspace when he ramped up the intensity. I anticipated a fragmentation of his construct with each little scene transforming into a snapshot, rather like a mental photo album.
I was determined not to lose myself in the whirlwind. Instead, I would log those key moments as everlasting keepsakes.
The first came when Jason tied me to the St. Andrew’s cross, stripped of my fancy corset. He lashed my bottom and back with a steady swoop of his arm. I couldn’t fault his rhythm, which kept time like a metronome—a swish and thud—never too hard but sufficient to make me gasp for breath.
