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The warm-up sent me into a state of sublime relaxation as I released my pent-up anxieties. Only when I started to drag on the restraints and my head bobbed up and down did Jason cease. He stroked my blazing bottom, commenting on the heat and colouration. His exact words failed to register.
He moved me, laid me on the padded mat and, with the help of Damien, bound my compliant limbs. He didn’t choose a restrictive hogtie nor suspension. Rather, he covered my pale flesh in an elaborate net of knots and red rope work, my arms bound behind my back and my ankles hobbled to my upper thighs. The position exposed my sex, and after Jason blindfolded me, he gave his permission for the others to use me.
Soft whispers and the pitter-patter of footsteps greeted his command. I clung onto my submissive state, which Jason had induced with his flogging and bondage, remembering my trust in him was unbreakable. I struggled to contain the burst of adrenaline, my muscles twitching under the ropes.
Maria, I knew her skilled tongue so very well, took up the task of licking my clitoris. I whimpered, aware of my impending orgasm, which required permission from Jason. I grappled with the urge to come until she ceased and another took her place with a pinwheel, which etched its way around my nipples, forcing me to hold my breath.
The scene progressed at a gentle pace as others took brief turns in teasing me, whether with feathers, tongues, fingers, or teeth. A medley of sensual delights maintained me a perpetual state of arousal. Squirming on the floor, I mewled or squealed. Sometimes I giggled, and my shameless enjoyment met with a similar response. Only Jason spoke directly to me, occasionally whispering in my ear, checking in on my mental state, asking for my consent to continue.
I wanted him so much, and it wasn’t long before he took control. By then, my need to orgasm teetered on a fantastical cliff edge. My clit buzzed with renewed energy, and my pussy must have been sopping. I couldn’t see Jason, but he was close. When he called off my tormentors, removing the sensual stimulus, he commanded me to come.
It wasn’t magic. I couldn’t have done it without his voice and the months of training. For a second, I hovered on the plateau, unsure if my orgasm would deluge my body with convulsions or focus on my tender clitoris, sending it into spiralling spasms. My lungs stopped, unable to suck in air as I experienced the former, an undiluted battery of contracting muscles spreading across my body.
In the midst of my moans, Jason rolled me onto my belly and entered me. I heard the familiar slaps of his hips on my bottom. My scalp stung as he grasped my braids, unravelling them as he pulled out the loose strands. I rocked with my legs splayed to one side, bent at the knee, and my arms boxed across my back, unable to push against his thrusts.
He grunted with each grinding penetration. In the darkness, I conjured up the image of him lying on top of me, clothed—I felt the buttons scrape along my thighs, the collar of his shirt tickling between my shoulder blades—and his arse rising and falling. I’d vanquished my fear of communal sex. The presence of my friends thrilled and energised my throbbing clitoris. The vulnerability given to me by ropes and blindfold enhanced my submission, not diminished it.
“Come, come,” uttered Jason between pants.
What followed was a wonderful conjoined climax, which danced back and forth between us as I clenched his pumping cock. His cries were an affirmation of his love. He needed only me.
Released from my bondage and eyes uncovered, I lay in the dimly lit dungeon and enjoyed the pleasure of a sponge bathing away our fluids and cooling my rope and whip marks. I would savour those later, when I could focus and remain sentient.
Calmed by soothing words, I prepared myself for the final scene—my piercing. Jason carried me to the table, laid me there on my back, and spread my legs wide. I tucked my heels next to my bottom, anchoring my wobbly legs. However, the shaking grew too pronounced, and Damien and Enrique held them still. I muttered an embarrassed thank you.
Jason tilted my head back, cupping my chin with his palm and, in doing so, made it so I could see nothing of Garratt and his gloved hands. I flinched when the cold iodine washed over my supersensitive sex. I recollected what Jason had said when he declared his intention to pierce me. He had insisted there would be
no mercy; he desired a fleeting moment of pain to satisfy his sadism. At no other time in the day had he shown this aspect of his personality. Only now did I gift him my masochism.
The pain was swift and sharp. I squawked, clenching my fists at my sides while my legs tensed. As quickly as the pain arrived, it left, and in its place, a tugging sensation as Garratt inserted the gold pin into the hood covering my clitoris.
“Good girl,” whispered Jason.
I let out a small sob, not from the discomfort, but because those words melted my heart in an instant. Now I had a mark for him to cherish every time I undressed and stood naked before him.
We posed for photographs. Pictures quite unlike our wedding ones. I rested my back on Jason’s warm chest, his arms wrapped about my bosom, and held a small flower with petals the colour of blood. I didn’t mind. I captured those numerous fleeting pictures in my head in the hope of not losing the essence of my collaring. From that day, I would not fear or live in the past.
Lying in bed, Jason caressed and stroked me, never straying to my touch my delicate piercing. As I drifted off into my dream world, echoing around my head were his sleepy words.
“My gorgeous girl.”
Chapter 23. My Accountant
Once September arrived, the opening of the art gallery loomed on the horizon, and I crammed my weekdays with appointments, meetings, and phone calls. Clara became the custodian of Joshua for the bulk of the day. My transition from full-time mum to owner of a gallery had progressed over a period of months.
The late summer weather helped my mood. I tried to stay positive and active, convincing myself my project would launch successfully and on time, except occasionally I floundered given the number of outstanding issues.
All the exhibits had been delivered to the building although they remained wrapped in their protective casings. With the artwork in residence, my immediate task had been to provide security. I couldn’t claim my exhibition would be worth a fortune, but I needed to reassure artists their works were safe. My steep learning curve covered many new areas: security, insurance, and hazard management. None of them inspired enthusiasm on my part.
Jason seconded his security chief, Martinson, to help. Jason’s critical areas of asset security were his data storage and server rooms, and they had much in common with art galleries, which meant fire-detection systems and the need for motion sensors to announce the arrival of intruders. A team came and assessed and helped identify suitable candidates to provide the monitoring equipment. Jason authorised the linking of the alarm systems for the gallery with his own company’s security hub. I agreed, although I wasn’t sure if the link-up was to protect the pictures or me.
Next, I tackled staffing. I couldn’t be on site all the time, and I needed the right mix of employees. After a two-hour session with one of Jason’s personnel managers, I trudged out of the room armed with notes about employment laws, recruitment issues, terms and conditions of employment. Reams and reams of the damn stuff, and I threw the lot on my desk and buried my head in my hands.
“Gemma, you’re not revising for an exam. You don’t have to memorise all of this,” said Jason, collecting my piles of paper. “You need to be aware of what is out there, when to consult an expert or what to handle yourself. Your staffing levels amount to a handful.”
He removed the documents and suggested I devise a list of ten things I considered important when employing and managing other people. Naturally, his idea for refocusing my brain cells helped, and it proved invaluable when I had to deal with people-management issues.
I’d decided on the job roles for my staff quite early on in the planning. I needed cover for the evenings and weekends. Opening an art gallery early in the morning I deemed pointless, nevertheless, I could use the time to work through the daily-administrative issues. The gallery would be open into the evening to cover off the peak times when customers and visitors might pass by. I hoped the riverside location would attract tourists.
