Trust Me to Know You

by Jaye Peaches

  “Are your tits really sore?” he asked as he pulled on his socks.

  “I’ll survive,” I said touching my breasts and then I grinned at him. “Nice sore, you know what I mean?”

  “Good, I’m going for a run for half an hour. Have breakfast ready for me when I get back,” he stood and taking my naked body in his arms hugged me, planting a kiss on head.

  “Mmmmm. You smell of sex. I love that smell.”

  Letting go of me, I received a momentary smile and then he was out of the bedroom door.

  The morning disappeared quickly after breakfast as I worked my way through the newspaper in the conservatory and he looked at the morning correspondence that the postal worker had brought. I mentally pictured his front door for a moment.

  “Jason, you don’t have a letter box?” I queried.

  Jason looked bemused by my comment.

  “Well rather pointless, postman can’t deliver up here, wouldn’t get past the gate. He drops them off at the gatehouse and one of the guys brings them up and leaves them in the hallway. Same with the newspaper. Which reminds me, don’t go trooping around in the nude in the hallway, I don’t want them seeing you like that if they are dropping anything off for me,” he spoke sternly.

  “I will ensure I’m well covered up, sir,” I smiled and returned to the literary review section of the newspaper.

  “I won’t be here for lunch. I have an informal business meeting to attend,” Jason was looking at his watch as he spoke.

  “Oh, right,” I wondered what I was going to be doing if he was going to be busy all day.

  “Do you drive?” he asked me.

  Jason put his letters to one side and turned to face me. I reciprocated and dropped my newspaper on the floor.

  “Yes, of course. I don’t have a car, no point when living in a city.”

  “I’ll arrange for you to have a car at your disposal here, in the meantime one of the drivers can take you out and about if you like.”

  My face must have looked confused and he frowned at me.

  “Am I going somewhere?” I asked puzzled.

  “Jeez, Gemma, you’re not a prisoner here. I assumed you would like to, you know, do stuff instead of sitting around here on your bum all day,” he sounded impatient with me.

  My mouth formed one of those ‘O’ shaped expressions.

  “Yes, oh silly goldfish girl. There are some pretty villages around here. A few have little boutiques and the like.”

  He slapped his thighs as if the matter was dealt with and stood up stretching his arms.

  “Thank you. I didn’t, I mean,” I stumbled over my words, “I assumed that you would have plans for me during the day.”

  “What sex?” Jason looked down at me surprised. “I like a good fuck, but, Gemma, I’m not a machine, a man needs to rest,” he joked.

  “No I meant, you know jobs, tasks, that sort of thing,” I blushed crimson and looked at my feet.

  Jason threw his head back with laughter.

  “Oh good grief. No. Did you think I would have you scrubbing floors or polishing the silver in the nude or something? I’m not that kind of dom. I have cleaners for fuck sake. Well if you did servitude stuff in the past, you can forget it. You’re my submissive, my sexual submissive and not a slave, you don’t need to prove anything to me by debasing yourself about my house. Go enjoy yourself,” he shook his head in amusement.

  I could not stop myself and threw my body into his arms.

  “You’re the best ever,” I beamed at him, hugging him around his narrow waist. He patted my back affectionately.

  “Go, off me. I have stuff to do.”

  Jason pushed me away, for a moment I could see his embarrassment. The look was fleeting as instantly the serious Jason was back in command.

  “Be back at five o’clock at the latest or they’ll be consequences.” The wonderful controlling voice had returned, it made me melt.

  “Yes. Sir.”

  The idea of consequences sounded almost too tantalising.

  I took up his offer and I nervously rang the gatehouse extension number.

  “Uh. I need a lift... a car,” I stuttered down the phone.

  “Johnson will come up to the house for you, Miss Marshall. Do you wish to leave now?”

  “Ten minutes.”

  “Very good, miss.”

  I put the phone down and danced around in circles. I was going to be chauffeured around like royalty. Wow, my life was heading to cloud nine direct.

  Johnson, who turned out to be the young security guard I met in the house, knew a few of the local villages well and suggested one in particular. It had a farm shop and I fancied buying fresh vegetables to cook something different for Jason. He parked the Jaguar up by the village green – mentally I wondered how many Jags Jason had in his possession because I was sure I waved him off in one earlier. The day was pleasant, weather dry and there was a slight breeze. I strolled over to the churchyard and perused the names on the gravestones. They lived such short lives, difficult times for many. I was lucky to be living in this century.

  The church was small and quaint, a typical village church with mixed architecture added over the centuries. I was surprised to find that the carved oak door was unlocked. Lifting the heavy catch I ventured inside, my heels echoing around the stone walls. I perched on a pew at the front of the nave, looking at the cross on the altar. The inside of the church was simple. A few memorial plaques and tarnished wooden pews with worn hassocks scattered under the seats. I had the impression the congregation was small and church funds were insufficient.

  I was not religious, though I did not know if I was an atheist, an agnostic maybe. I wondered what God would make of my lifestyle choices. Would he see them as sinful, decadent? Perhaps it explained my ambivalence to religion. I did not think I would be comfortable with the answer a priest might give me. Would Jason marry in a church? No. I could not imagine that happening. Would he marry me? I dismissed the idea, he had not even used the love word, and a romantic connection was not going to happen. Slightly disheartened I left the cold church and headed back into the sun.

  The sunrays warmed my skin and with a renewed purpose to my steps. I went to find the farm shop Johnson raved about.

  ***

  “Ummm, this is delicious, Gemma, really good. Fresh vegetables?”

  Jason was genuinely enjoyed my vegetable curry. He cleared his plate quickly and had seconds. I was back in my cloud nine, my dominant was happy, a sub’s mission accomplished.

  “Did your meeting go well?” I asked trying to strike up a conversation at the dining table.

  “Yes, thank you. I was meeting one the company lawyers. Sometimes it is easier to progress things out of the office. Fewer distractions,” he heaped a pile of rice on his plate.

  “You studied law didn’t you?” I recollected from one of our earlier conversations.

  “Yes, at Oxford,” he said between chews.

  “But you didn’t become a lawyer?” I ventured further, he was being very open.

  “Did not appeal to me. Courts, criminals? Not my style. In any case, I specialised in commercial law. I had already planned to set myself up in business. Being able to get my head round legal documents, contracts, helped me build my business quicker,” he swallowed a mouthful of wine. “Also cheaper on lawyers.”

  I smiled at his comment. No, I could not imagine Jason Lucas QC. He would be bored by the formality of courts and probably would not take kindly to judges being in charge.

  “You studied business and computing?” he asked.

  I was sure he already knew the answer to this question, he knew far more about me than I did about him.

  “Yes, joint degree, seemed a wise choice at the time. I enjoyed the computing more than the business side,” I started toying with my food as I was rather full.

  “I’ve seen your love affair with your laptop,” Jason reminded me of our first time alon
e.

  Tentatively I broached the subject that was bothering me.

  “You said you would find me a new job, to take up after I quit your company?” I dared to catch Jason’s blue eyes.

  He pushed his empty plate away leant back in the chair he looked at me, face impassive.

  “Yes I did. I’ve put out preliminary inquiries. There is nothing out there at the moment, maybe in a month’s time, there could be opportunities.”

  “A month!” I exclaimed.

  “Patience, Gemma,” he leant forward taking my hand in his.

  “I was hoping,” I ventured further. “We could start getting out, you know, out of the house. Go places, the theatre, concerts or clubs whatever. Not cooped up in your house all the time. I want to enjoy myself with you more.”

  He let go of my hand. I had contravened the boundaries again, his expression said it all.

  “I said patience. That’s the end of the matter. It is not up for discussion. I decide, remember. In any case the anticipation will make you enjoy it all the more when it comes about.”

  The conversation was over. I started to collect the plates and cutlery.

  “Well, I’m stuffed. Too stuffed.”

  Jason patted his stomach, which did not look the slightest bit overfilled. Where did he put it all?

  “I think I will get indigestion if I fucked you now. Was that your intention? Too fat to fuck?” he growled at me.

  “No, sir, absolutely not. More a case of plenty of calories to give you energy,” I leered and he reached out to slap my thigh as I passed by him.

  “Cheeky. Finish tidying up and join me in the TV room. We’ll watch a film, allow our stomachs to recover.” Jason stood up and strolled out of the kitchen heading to the TV room, glass of wine in hand.

  By the time I joined him, he was scrolling through a menu of streaming films. I joined him on the comfortable expansive couch rather than an armchair. It turned out we had similar tastes in films. We both preferred adventure plots or thrillers and witty comedies rather than slapstick ones. We selected a mild horror film and settled down to watch. I snuggled up to him and he accommodated me with an arm around my shoulders. It all felt so normal, not what I had expected for a Saturday night. The film was scarier than I thought it would be and a couple of times I buried my face in his chest to hide.

  “Good grief, Gemma,” Jason was surprised by my sensitivity. “You let yourself be tied up, blindfold and whipped, yet your terrified of a bit of make believe.” He kissed my forehead tenderly though.

  “I’m only an ordinary girl. Isn’t this what little girls do when they get taken to the cinema with their hunky boyfriends?” I teased him.

  “Careful now, Gemma, hunky boyfriends get frisky in the back row you know,” he chuckled.

  The end credits were coming up on the screen. We were both quite relaxed and I waited to see what he planned to do next. The evening was expiring rapidly and I suspected he was tired, though I had yet to see him run out of energy. Jason had a hand on my thigh, thumb rubbing back and forth against the fabric of my jeans. Then he turned to me and pulled my head towards his, I parted my lips for him and we were kissing, tongues and lips pressed together tightly. The fire inside me was lit and burning bright. He stopped and leant back away from me.

  “I want to fuck you. Now. It’s getting late, so we’ll be quick.”

  My heart rate shot up, I was eager to please him, to show him that I was capable of whatever he wished to do.

  “Strip, here, now!” The command was perfunctory.

  I stood before him and carefully took off my clothes, trying to be seductive as possible. My bra unclasped, I shook my breasts down right in front of his eager eyes. Knickers slid down and I turned slightly so he could see my bottom waving in the air. Jason ran his finger along his lower lip, not reacting visibly to my flirting. Suddenly he was up on his feet, grabbing my hand and my t-shirt from the floor, he hauled me across the room into the games room. I did not mind the manhandling it added to the mood I was in and his urgency quickened my arousal.

  He turned the lights on. “Go stand by the billiard table please.”

  I walked up to the narrow end of the table. What was he planning to do to me?

  “You’re going to bend over and I’m going to fuck you hard. Do you want me to fuck you hard, Gemma?”

  He was standing right next to me and breathing on my neck. The nape of neck received a light kiss and a shiver ran down my back like an electric current.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Please, please! I was gaping for him already.

  Grasped in his hand was my t-shirt. He had rolled it up and brought it in front of my face. “Mouth open.”

  The t-shirt was thrust into my mouth and I bit down on it. He tied it tightly behind my head. My anxiety levels had increased. I was not sure I wanted to be gagged although I had never said I would not let him.

  “No words, I don’t want to hear you and nor do I want drool on this baize,” he whispered into my ear. A hand pushed me in the back. “Bend over the table. Legs apart. Further apart, no more,” he snapped.

  I was stretched wide for him and I grasped the edge of the table, spread-eagled.

  “Keep still.”

  He walked round the table and picked up two of the balls. The yellow one and a red one. He placed one in each of my hands.

  “Do you understand?”

  I nodded in response. What an inventive man, not safe-words, safe-balls. I laughed inwardly.

  “Hold on to them tightly. If you drop them I will assume you’re safe-wording me, alright?”

  I nodded again. Jason was behind me and I heard the sound of his jeans unzipping and dropping to the floor, along with his underpants. Then his hands were on my hips, I wriggled my bum provocatively at him. He spanked my bottom hard several times and I grunted into my gag. Steadying me, he thrust two fingers into my wetness, twisting his fingers back and forth.

  “You’re very ready aren’t you? Good.”

  The power behind Jason’s thrust, as he slammed me into the table, surprised me. I exhaled loudly into my gag and he propelled me on to the hard edge of the table with an audible thump. I sensed some pain with the depth of his penetration hitting my belly and the speed was unnerving. He did not pause as I expected him to do, but instead he rammed into me repeatedly and it felt like the full length of his shaft was driving deep inside me. The exertion was prevalent in his groans and exhales. My hair grasped by his hand and I winced as he pulled back on it, pushing himself deeper into me. I was whimpering in the gag now, though my hands remained clenched tight around the coloured balls.

  Why did I let men do this to me? There had to be a deep psychological reason why I found this kind of rough sexual activity deeply arousing. It felt primeval, like an animal instinct in me. I gave him my body and my erotic addiction to being submissive was being re-kindled with everyone one of our sexual encounters. Jason had that rudimentary need too. The way he fucked me was pure primordial lust, although the force was controlled.

  My control was pathetic and I was beginning to build, desperate to relieve my neediness. I squirmed underneath, trying to press my clitoris into the table edge for satisfaction. My nipples chafed on the baize as he dragged me back and forth on the surface. The desire in me to come was bordering on the painful and my clitoris was swollen as if it would burst.

  “Please, sir, please,” I muttered into my t-shirt while my knuckles tensed about the hard billiard balls.

  “Not yet!” His denial growled down at me.

  I yelped with disappointment and imagined the balls in my hands were his testicles and I was squeezing them until his eyes were watering. My mental revenge served a purpose, I thought, as an attempt to distract myself. Unfortunately, as a fantasy it failed dismally, after all seeing his fleshy pink balls in my head drove my lust further to the brink.

  He held me tighter around the waist, pinching my flesh between his strong
fingers and he picked up speed, banging back and forth against my bottom, his breathing rasping and sharp.

  “Now!”

  I quickly exploded inside, a detonation of nerve endings sending waves of spasms across me. Jason pulled me away from the table, down on to his lap as he knelt on the floor. Still in me, he held me tight around my breasts and waist as he came loudly, shouting out my name “Gemma!”

  His grip was almost suffocating me as he held me for the duration. The moment was over, he abated and I allowed my cramping hands to let go of the balls. They rolled across the floor under the billiard table. We were there for several minutes catching our breaths.

  “Off.”

  I eased myself away from him.

  “I’m thirsty. Please bring a glass of water to the bedroom.”

  He pulled on his jeans and, without a glance at me knelt on the floor, strolled out of the room.

  “Yes, sir,” I murmured to his departing back.

  By the time I had tidied up the games room, collected my clothes, Jason had showered and was lying back in bed, eyes closed. I knew he was not asleep. His breathing was still too fast. I placed the glass on the bedside table and went into the bathroom. I quickly showered and climbed into bed noticing his drinking was glass empty. I curled up in bed alongside him. Not a word had passed between us, no conversation, not until the morning when he would reach over to me and say, “Ready for me, babe?”

  ***

  Jason and I walked out on to the front driveway hand in hand. The overcast weather would not deter Jason from his usual round of golf. The morning began subdued and underplayed by Jason. I thought we actually made love when we woke up. It certainly was not anything like the breast torture he inflicted on me the previous day. Standing by the car, he embraced me briefly and kissed me sweetly on the mouth. Then I climbed into the back of the car ready to head off to my apartment, to the dull humdrum of the weekly laundry and ironing pile. I turned in my seat, as the car rumbled along the driveway, but found to my disappointment he had disappeared into the house without even a wave.