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Jason had reminded me how he took care of me. He constantly removed threats and dealt with unpleasantness on my behalf. All I had to do was open an art gallery, nothing complicated. Whatever stresses bombarded me during the forthcoming week couldn’t match the demands placed on Jason to keep me, and his business, safe. I surrendered my will, my body, because it was the best I could do, and I had promised Jason I would give him my best.
My safe-word didn’t enter into my considerations.
“Master.” I lowered my eyes. “I serve you.”
I made my point. I would do it because Jason asked, not because I needed the thrill of two men dominating me.
There’d been no planning this time. Mark’s cheeks had gone pink, the corner of his lips twitching upwards, unable to suppress a smile. Jason took him to one side, and they murmured to each other. My Dom explained the rules and the etiquette of play. Mark nodded, rubbing the bulge in his pants.
I undressed but left on my knickers. Even exposing my bare breasts to Mark produced a wave of palpitations. Jason teased me with his nimble hands, shoving aside the gusset of my panties and probing my wet hole. Reaching around, he scrunched my breasts and pinched my nipples. My pussy clenched, tightening about nothing, desperate for the thrust of his cock.
“Take it,” Jason ordered me, as Mark unzipped his flies.
When was the last time I’d touched another man’s penis? I couldn’t recall. I tentatively lifted a finger, flinching slightly as the swollen end twitched. The man was well endowed.
“Just your hands,” instructed Jason. “Stay still.”
I gave Mark’s cock a hand job while Jason whipped me into a state of oblivion with a beaded flogger. The small knots stung amongst the thud of the leather. I floated away to my own special sanctuary.
Mark said very little. A few grunts and wheezy mutters of appreciation escaped his lips. He stood astride over me, clothed, except for his cock, and tilted his head back. Occasionally, he combed strands of my hair out of my eyes, but mostly he kept his arms to his sides.
Jason, having finished with the flogger, embraced me, folding his arms around my waist as I rhythmically pumped Mark’s cock. Sandwiched between the two men, I’d no way to shuffle in any direction. Jason skated his hand up over my rounded breasts before slipping his palm under my chin. He squeezed my neck, hinting at suffocating me, but he never enacted the stifling grip. Excited by the power he held over me, I wrung Mark’s cock in my hands. Rarely did we practise the wonderful art of breath control, and he need only tease me with it to bring me to the edge of an orgasm. I shook, my fingers aching from my relentless massaging, and my knickers were drenched with my leaking sap.
Jason demonstrated to Mark not only how much control he had over me, but the extent to which I trusted him. The ease with which he could excite me accentuated the differences in the two men’s experiences and abilities. Mark, beyond offering me his penis, had no role in feeding my hunger. I didn’t crave his cock in my mouth, and after he ejaculated over my breasts, my appetite for a fuck remained unsated, but it wasn’t Mark I needed. I would have to be patient, Jason wouldn’t fuck me in Mark’s presence, he would bide his time until we went to bed.
With cum dripping in my cleavage, Jason commanded me to come and once more, I came without direct stimulation. I soared,
writhing in combination with my convulsing pussy.
After that, my mind went somewhat fuzzy. Jason covered me with a blanket, and I sipped water, blinking in the light as if I’d been blindfolded.
Mark crouched next to the sofa, where Jason had deposited me, and kissed my forehead softly. “You’re quite amazing…. Your husband is a very lucky man. I think it’s okay to call you Gemma, now.” His stammering and flushed face were quite at odds with the confident man who’d advised me about my taxes. I smiled and nodded in agreement.
Jason said our good-byes to Mark in the hallway. The young Dom had bounded out of the room, uttering words of thanks, delighted with the outcome of the evening. An unexpected scene and Jason had trusted him unreservedly with his submissive wife and our secrets. Why? I still didn’t know, but I suspected Jason aspired to have a true apprentice, one who went beyond the odd email exchange. Was it an act of altruism to mentor a younger version of himself, just as Damien had done? I doubted Jason would tell me. It didn’t matter. I trusted Jason’s judgement—it rarely failed.
Chapter 26. Distractions
Jason strode into the gallery on Friday morning, the day before the opening. He arrived as my team was putting the final touches to the displays and the website’s photo gallery as well as making phone calls to the various news agencies, reminding them of the event. The huge glass-fronted windows of the gallery faced the riverside. Although the building was set back and separated from the walls of the riverbank by trees and a road, the sunlight blazed, transforming the interior into a bright and airy space.
I greeted my husband by the door, offering him my lips, which he briefly supped on. “I didn’t know you were planning to visit.” I fiddled with the elegant knot in his tie, flustered by his sudden appearance.
“I didn’t want you to know.” He grasped my hand and wandered around the gallery, perusing the pictures and exhibits. When we passed my small personal collection of paintings, mainly watercolours, he stopped.
“You’re selling this?” He pointed at the Gondolier painting I had done based on our holiday in Venice.
“It’s popular. It should sell. I need to sell stuff.”
Small furrows appeared on Jason’s forehead and he shook his head, frowning. I wriggled my hand out from his, perturbed by his attitude. Was he going to dictate which of my own paintings I could sell?
“You don’t agree?” I snorted and crossed my arms.
He rested his hands on his hips—never a good sign. “I’m not going to tell you what you should put in this gallery, but, when it comes to your stuff, I might enact a veto,” he murmured.
I huffed, almost growling in the back of my throat. Did he intend to remove the painting from display, right now? I had a solution, something he didn’t know about. “I painted two similar ones. Slightly different shading, but otherwise identical.”
His response was to move behind me and pinch my waist. He breathed on the back of my neck—a warm bloom of air sending mini shockwaves through my sexual core. Damn it! How did he manage to breakdown my resolve so quickly?
“I see. However, in the future, please let me know in advance if you plan to sell any of your pictures, won’t you?” He squeezed my waist hard, and I winced, snatching a breath.
