Trust Me to Know You

by Jaye Peaches

  I negotiated the few steps at the club entrance carefully as I did not want to go arse over tit now. Martinson had parked the Jaguar up twenty or so metres away from the entrance. The pavement outside the doorway was crowded with scantily clad women and brash men shouting uncouth words at each other. I was jostled by elbows and shoulders as other clubbers struggled to keep their balance. Drunkenness was rife and I tried to negotiate a path to the car. As I approached, Martinson got out and came to meet me, guiding me with his hand flat against my back. He opened the passenger door for me. Clambering in I sat next to Jason and he nodded to Martinson as if communicating something. The car quickly sped off down the street.

  I could not speak - what to say? He was mad at me, more than mad. Not even a glance my way. I shivered, the cold of the night had cleared my head and the nauseous sensation had thankfully dissipated. Looking at my hands, I tried to fathom out why he was so mad. He had never told me not to go out in the evenings, or drink or dance. I had danced with a small group of men, but no kissing or touching them. I must have overstepped an invisible line about which he had not informed me. We pulled up outside my apartment. Clutching my purse, I hesitated, not knowing what to do precisely.

  “Are you coming in?” I finally plucked up the courage to speak to him.

  “No. I’ve no intention of coming in,” his voice slipped out of his mouth like acid. Jason looked me straight in the eye. “You’re too drunk.”

  A simple explanation, but somehow I did not think that he was giving the real reason why he was not joining me. Without a goodbye or anything, I climbed out of the car and fumbled with my door key. Glancing back as I shut the door, I saw the car head off into the night.

  Chapter 14

  A horribly bright Thursday morning and I was dreadfully hung-over. The worst case of headache and dry nauseating mouth in a long time. I was late for work by an hour. Andy did not comment; he did not care and neither did I. I pondered whether I should have sent an apologetic text to Jason about my drunkenness. I could not think what to put in it and gave up on the idea.

  Friday I was better, at least I was not hung-over. My report was finished and I was deleting redundant files and personal stuff off my company laptop ready to hand it back. Rather surprisingly, the girls in the office had brought cakes in as a farewell treat. We stood around for afternoon coffee break, awkwardly making small talk. When it came to five o’clock, I took one last look around my desk for anything that I needed to take with me. Nope, I was all clear.

  My plastic bag contained a few morsels of personal life. A photograph of my immediate family, the doodles I had scrawled during lunchtimes, which I had to admit had the beginnings of something more substantial and a small collection of half-used stationery items. For a few weeks, I had made a good impression in my work and it was all a big gamble leaving. My resume would show a handful of weeks in a lucrative internship and then the employment record would end abruptly, not the best selling point to have in your curriculum vitae. I hoped Jason could work some magic or else I was staring at unemployment for a lengthy period.

  He would look after me – wouldn’t he? What if it all came to a dramatic premature end? I could not envisage him simply dumping me high and dry. The allowance he had given me was not the trivial spending money of a part-time insignificant girlfriend. The nagging doubts remained though as I grasped the handle of my bag.

  Penny trooped over and pecked at my cheek. “All the best Gemma, stay in touch.”

  I did not think she meant it. Amanda pecked the other cheek in that silly way girls do when pretending to be lovey dovey and friendly. Libby just waved from her desk.

  I handed my pass and laptop in at the security desk. That was it, I was finished my last day at J.D.Lucas Ltd and I had absolutely no idea what the future held for me. I was unemployed, in a crazy relationship with an autocratic dominant and homeless. I hoped I had made the right decision.

  ***

  Checking around my apartment, boxes piled in the hallway, labelled up for transporting to Jason’s two houses. A mix of clothes at each property. I had not touched my allowance yet, as I was unsure what exactly he expected me to buy - posh frocks or formal work attire? The bin bags, which contained years of hoarded inconsequential objects, were to be dwelt with at the same time. Martinson rang me twice during the day to check on what needed doing on Saturday. The furniture at least stayed in the rented apartment. I switched off the lights and headed out to the waiting car. The back seat was empty, no Jason to greet me tonight. I was full of apprehension and it was not a pleasant sensation.

  To emphasise my anxieties, Blythewood was cold and dark - winter was starting to arrive. I switched on a few lights and headed into the kitchen deciding cooking was the best therapy. I was slicing through a pepper when I heard the front door, not quite a slam at least. I guessed he had gone into the sitting room. I waited for him to come and find me. I managed ten minutes of feeling despondent in my kitchen isolation, perhaps he did not want me here anymore. What the hell was going on?

  I headed off to investigate. Jason had lit the fire and was nursing it into a blaze. Knelt back he was prodding the kindling with a poker and staring at the licking flames. No heat permeated out of the freshly lit fire. Frowning, I wondered if I was supposed to have lit the fire. Seeing me, he stood up and continued to stand looking at the orange flames.

  “I’ve been preparing dinner,” I attempted a conversation. “I handed in my laptop, my pass. Everything is packed up ready to go...”

  No response from him, not a peep. Suddenly I was scared at what I was doing with him.

  “Oh God, Jason, I don’t understand what you want from me!” My voice broke with emotion. “I’ve given up my job, my home to be here with you and you don’t exactly welcome me with open arms.”

  I was close to tears, hand to mouth I stopped my outburst. Jason turned to look at me with his hands on his hips, such an unwelcoming pose.

  “Oh, Christ!” I exclaimed.

  Nothing in his face to give me comfort. Something was going on more than my moving in and the only thing that had happened to rile him badly was my night out with Trudy.

  “What did I do so wrong on Wednesday? You never said I couldn’t go out with friends.” I wanted to stamp my feet in exasperation at him. “I mean, how did you even know I was there? I take it you don’t hang about in bars regularly.”

  “Enough, Gemma!” he shouted me down, finger pointing at me.

  He came closer to me. I flinched wondering if he was going to hit me, not that he ever had in the classic way, the slap across the face. My small act of visual apprehension jolted him into changing his stance.

  “I was concerned about you,” his voice was calmer, though no warmer.

  “Concerned? You had me followed... you have me followed?” I repeated. What other explanation could there be?

  “You go out, get drunk, dance with strangers, of course I have you followed! How else can I protect you?”

  Protect me? From what?

  “I don’t understand, Jason, I was with friends.” I ran my hands through my hair, confused by his words.

  “You flirt, Gemma, you don’t know how alluring you are, and men can’t resist you. I watched you with those two men, oblivious to their intentions. They were all over you.” Jason took me by my arms and shook me slightly as if to knock some sense into me.

  I spoke quietly, “I was fine, Jason. It was just dancing.”

  His voice was suddenly tender. “I can’t look after you when you’re not with me, I don’t want anything to happen to you again.”

  “Again?” I repeated.

  He was thinking of my assault. He thought I was going to be attacked again. Even with all the horror of that dreadful evening, I remained determined to put it behind me and not define myself as a pathetic victim.

  “Jason,” I reached up and put my hands on his shoulders. “I’m OK. I can look after myself.”

  “N
o you can’t! That’s what I do for you. It is my responsibility,” he broke away from me. “I was so angry with you. Part of me jealous, who wouldn’t be, you look so sexy when you dance. All I wanted to do is throw you into the back of the car and fuck you senseless,” he stopped.

  He looked uncomfortable, almost embarrassed by his own words. His uneasiness pleased me because I was finding my own anger and the annoyance was bubbling up and over my usual cautious brim.

  “You said you want to protect me and then you tell me you going to fuck me, like... like I’m a whore! I don’t get it, Jason, that’s not protecting me,” I sat down on the couch, as my legs were too weak to take the onslaught of inflamed emotions.

  Jason came and sat by my side taking my hand in his.

  “But, Gemma, I didn’t. That’s what I would have done, if you’d been anyone else, but you’re not. You’re damaged and I have a duty to help heal you. I have to behave differently with you, give you more freedom to try to build your self-esteem back. I want you to be able to enjoy being a submissive again without fear.” He took my chin and made me look at him. “I really care about you, you know that.”

  I was tearful at his words. They were the most forthcoming he had ever been about his feelings.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Gem. But I have desires too. I’m working hard to repress them. I didn’t fuck you in the car, or go to your apartment to screw you because I knew it would be wrong for you. I want you to submit to me willingly and not with fear or concern. This is about trust, your trust in me.”

  “I do trust you, Jason,” I sobbed clutching his hand tightly. “I thought you didn’t want me anymore. That I’d make a big mistake in my life, coming here and being with you. You can be so cold to me. I don’t know what you’re thinking, it scares me.”

  Jason wiped my tears away with his fingers. “It’s hard for me. I’ve never had to explain my thoughts or feelings to anyone. No-one questions my decisions, they don’t dare. Then you came along and I’m having to adjust. We both need time. We’ll get there, won’t we?” he looked at me head on one side. “Oh, baby, I don’t want you to be scared of me.” He took me in his arms and for a while we sat there in silence, the hiss and crackle of the fire the only sounds.

  “Come,” Jason broke the silence. “Go finishing cooking. Let’s eat.”

  The emotional crisis over, for the moment. Jason did not take me into his lair for an evening’s scene. He told me he did not feel right after the emotional conversation we had earlier. Whatever my wishes his took precedence and the denial of his dominant play seemed only to re-enforce how little I knew about Jason. Was he abstaining because he did not think I could tolerate being treated as his erotic plaything or was it because he was not absolutely in control of his own faculties? The latter was essential to both my physical and emotionally wellbeing. He must have sensed my inner strife as he finished off his plate of food. He leaned back in his chair and watched me tidy up. Nothing was said and yet he still noticed my tension.

  “I think what you need is a little TLC, don’t you,” he said rising to join me as I wiped down the pristine white surfaces.

  “Maybe,” I said undecided.

  “Nothing rough, just as simple stress relieving fuck, yes?” he said nudging his hardness against my hip. “Because no matter what harsh words are said between us, we both know it is sex which draws us together.”

  “Is that all we are to each other, Jason? A much needed fuck?” I asked and he did not reply with words but merely planted a kiss on my lips and took my hand in his.

  We went to bed and he made love to me. Passionate mutually agreeable sex and he was very sweet to me - letting me come, without restrictions or teasing, in my own time. With each delicate thrust of his hips, I gave up my worries and I thought in the end I did drift off for him. One of those unintended capitulations borne out of letting go and seeking oblivion rather than actively giving up my body to him. At long last, the stresses of the day were washed away in waves of orgasms. Well, nearly all the stresses.

  Jason had me followed. The knowledge of that haunted me as I descended into sleep.

  ***

  When I woke in the morning, the thought remained planted in my mind. An obstruction that would not budge. I stabbed at my bacon over breakfast. Jason was flicking through the financial pages of the newspaper, he glanced across at me eyebrows raised.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I practically snapped back at him. He put the paper down.

  “Obviously not though. Out with it!” An order and the directive made me remember Jason was my dominant and communication was the basis of our relationship.

  I put my fork down and squared my shoulders - I could do this.

  “Wednesday night...” I began.

  “We’ve been over Wednesday night,” he interrupted me.

  “You’ve been having me followed, it is the only way you could know where I was,” I blurted out. There I had said it.

  Jason sighed and looked down at his well-manicured hands.

  “I didn’t want you to be aware of it as I don’t want you freaking out on me,” he looked up at me, eyes fixed on my face.

  “What’s going on, Jason. What aren’t you telling me?” I had alarm bells going off.

  “My predecessor...” Jason said his name with loathing, “after he’d finished with you, word got around about what he had done to you.”

  “How? I never said anything,” I tried to recall the blur of weeks after the assault on me. Nothing came to mind. I did not go out and I did not remember meeting anyone.

  “The doctor who came to help you... she’s not a true submissive, she is a switch,” Jason held my attention. I did not know she played at domme as well as sub. “She put the word out, in the clubs and other places, and it seems you’ve not been the only one he had treated badly. He was building quite a reputation in the few weeks you had been with him and afterwards too, a seriously bad one. I don’t think what happened next was entirely due to what happened to you, more an accumulation of events,” paused Jason. “To sum up, he was tracked down, effectively kidnapped by a vengeful collection of unethical femdoms and... well... let’s just say he didn’t go out much over the following weeks after they finished with him.”

  I had to smile. He would have hated the humiliation of being used by vigilantes, as he was such a macho man. However, there was not a drop of sympathy in me for him.

  “I think with hindsight, he didn’t like women much. He could be very charming and gracious, I fell for him hook, line and sink. Foolish I know, looking back, but he had magnetism about him. He only started to get really cruel in the last few weeks I was with him.”

  Jason leant forward. “He did other things to you? What haven’t you told me?” he asked gently.

  I shut my eyes. I had done so well to block these memories. I was not been honest with myself never mind Jason.

  “I think the police would call it domestic abuse. He would slap me about a bit, you know, bloody nose me. He got very demanding, he wanted me 24/7 and when I said no he got a bit nasty with me... With hindsight it looks much worse than it felt at the time.”

  Jason now understood why face slapping was a hard limit for me. Reaching out, Jason took my hand.

  “You still haven’t explained the following me thing.” I changed the subject back to Wednesday.

  “It hasn’t been just Wednesday. I found out – you have to understand money can buy very good investigative services – I found out he blamed you. He thinks you instigated his, let’s say, punishment because of your connections,” Jason squeezed my hand. My heart sunk, the news was worse than I thought.

  “He’s after me?” I tried not to hide the panic. “Why didn’t you tell me this before? How long have you know?”

  I pulled my hand away and put my head in my hands. The adrenaline drenched river of fear, which ran through me, was being churned up into a flood as it mixed with my ang
er.

  “He’s not going to get you,” said Jason unwaveringly. “I have a good security team. You weren’t even aware they were following you, or monitoring your apartment.”

  “What bugs and cameras!” I exclaimed. Strange people watching me come and go was almost as bad as the idea of him being out there tracking me down.

  My God, this is voyeurism.

  “No. Though your car has a tracking device in it and your mobile can be tracked if needed.” Jason leant back in his chair.

  “I never invited him to my apartment. He doesn’t know where I lived only where I worked. My home was off limits to my partners. He could track me down through my work colleagues I suppose.” My mind buzzed with a mental list of my vulnerabilities.

  “Wherever he is, he’s in hiding. His last address, the one you visited, has new tenants. Everything you described has gone. He left no forwarding address and he’s gone nomadic. Look don’t lose sleep over this. I don’t want you to worry, that’s my job. Be grateful I can do all this for you. Not every master has these resources to hand.”

  I could not let it rest though.

  “He wasn’t at the bar on Wednesday yet you still came,” I said taking the bull by the horn. Explain that, Jason!

  “Alright. I didn’t like the idea of you being out, drinking and dancing with strangers. When Martinson contacted me, I was back at Piedmont, getting out of the shower.”

  Damp blonde hair, I remembered.

  “He said you’d gone clubbing. I saw red and wanted you out of there, so I came.”

  I smiled. “Kind of my knight in shining armour. Except you were mad at me and made me feel terrible about myself.”

  “I had to get you out of there quickly. Too many people and very crowded. Martinson was concerned you could be slipped out unnoticed. I was made angrier watching you dance,” he frowned.

  “You need to be more open with me, Jason. This relationship isn’t going to work otherwise, and I want it to work.” I held out my hand to him this time and he took it.