by Jaye Peaches
“It is fine, babe, they’re your parents,” he whispered reassuringly.
They gaped overtly, jaw dropping, mouths open. They probably thought Jason’s country house was a picturesque cottage retreat with a small walled garden containing quaint rose bushes and not the remnants of large manor house with a long drive, stable block and acres of estate.
“Mum, dad, it’s great to see you. I hope you didn’t get lost?” I asked with concern.
“Oh no, dear, your father likes to drive slowly on country lanes. You know that.”
She gave me a kiss and hug. My mother was petite whereas my father was tall and they often looked an odd couple. My dad gave me one of his bear hug type embraces. Jason stepped forward to be introduced having kept himself at a distance.
“Mum, dad, this is Jason Lucas.” I took Jason’s arm and he reached out to shake my parents’ hands.
“Pleasure to meet you, Jason.” My mum was easily taken in by Jason’s good looks.
Mother have you no shame!
Blythewood impressed and showing off the understated, restrained and tasteful interior helped the time we had together go well. Jason’s choice of furnishings and decor was modern yet low-key which helped complement the age of the house without the rooms looking antique and out-dated. My parents were continually in awe of the house and grounds. Their small semi-detached house must have seemed particularly cramped compared to Jason’s many bedroom mansion.
We ate in the main dining room. There was gentle cream paintwork on the walls with halogen lights in the ceiling and bared oak floor boards covered with a cream rug laid simply under the long table. Such a dark wood, it was ebony not oak and the matching chairs were covered in a soft white fabric. A nightmare to keep clean I supposed, but that was not my job at least. Between the two windows was a small fireplace, which was modern and recessed with white marble. Eating in the dining room reminded me of a doctor’s surgery, pristine and clinical in style and yet still it managed to exude warmth.
The grandeur of the room was imposing and my mum could not take her eyes off the silverware and crystal wine glasses. Jason was very helpful in the kitchen, reminding me that he was not incompetent on the domestic front. Every now and again, he gave my bottom a gentle caress as the heat of my spanking continued to fade.
Conversation about the dining table was somewhat stilted. Dad was a hospital pharmacist and mum had worked her way through various administrative roles, mostly for charities and small businesses. I realised I missed their idle gossip and small worldviews - such a contrast to Jason’s parents. The only awkward moment came when dad asked about my resignation.
“It wasn’t appropriate for me to work in the same company as Jason, dad. He’s the MD and I was an intern,” I told him as I glanced at Jason who was poking at his carrot and not entering into the conversation.
“Anyway, there will be other jobs and Jason is taking really good care of me. How is life in the hospital, dad?” I changed the direction of the conversation quickly.
The rest of afternoon went well. We walked my parents around the gardens, which meant a lengthy time examining the contents of the flowerbeds and naming the rare shrubs. Then I watched as they gawped at the indoor pool.
My mum held me tight when we came to say goodbye. “Take care, darling, won’t you?”
Her tone was not of a mother who was pleased with her daughter’s circumstances. Something troubled her and I knew it was because she saw me as Jason’s mistress. It was as if she expected a bona fida wife to leap out from a secret cubby hole and send me packing. I may not be Jason’s wife, but a mistress was not far removed from the correction definition. I was his bedroom companion and little else it seemed. My earlier pre-spanking misgivings were resurfacing rapidly.
“Mum, please, I’m fine.”
I kissed her back with as much self-confidence as possible, her doubts must not become mine. I could see dad was still looking for answers to questions that neither of them had asked. Thankfully, as I expected, he let them lie unsaid and kissed me gently on the cheek. I bowed my head as I realised I wanted more from him, something complimentary or congratulatory, after all I had found a wealthy successful man. Surely, my relationship with Jason amounted to some accomplishment in my otherwise dull life!
Jason and I walked back inside as they disappeared down the driveway. I flopped down on the couch and shut my eyes.
“Thank God that’s over with.” I rubbed my forehead with my fingers.
“They weren’t bad, Gemma. Very pleasant in fact.” Jason settled down next to me and began running his hand up my leg.
“Did you miss your golf?” I asked sweetly.
“Oh, I’ll survive. Anyway, next week, you’re coming to. Time you watched my swing a club rather than a whip.”
I giggled at him delight.
Finally, he’s going to make it public!
Chapter 16
I was standing under the shower at the gym, making best use of my membership and Jason’s insistence that I kept fit for him. Drying myself, I checked my mobile number. One message for me. I unlocked the screen and I did not recognise the number displayed. I stared at the text, not able to take it in. I re-read the fearful words again. Sitting down, I started to shake. The fingertips first and then the rest of me in a kind of osmotic effect.
: Little one. I’m going to find you and then I’m going to fuck you until you are dead. Remember my knife?
I knew the text was from him.
How did he get my number?
I took a few deep breaths and quickly got dressed. Gibson would be out in the entrance foyer waiting for me. Part of me wanted to delete the message, to try to ignore it, but Jason would flip his lid if he knew I had been threatened and not told him. He was going to go berserk anyway.
The moment I approached Gibson she could see I was upset about something. I must have looked white, the shock of what the message implied was starting to sink in - the bastard really wanted to hurt me.
“Miss Marshall, what’s wrong?” Her concern was genuine.
I held out my phone and she looked down at the message.
“Little one?” she queried.
“It’s what he called me.” I remembered how he would say it to me sweetly in bed.
Gibson passed my phone back to me. She took out her own mobile and dialled a speed dial number. “Chris, it is Emma. Miss Marshall has received a death threat on her mobile. It is from the target.... Yes... She’s OK. Obviously upset,” Gibson looked at me. “Right.... We’ll hold here then.”
She hung up. “We’re to wait here to be collected by car. No walking back.”
I nodded in agreement, I did not want to step outside. Memories of my earlier mistaken stalker lurked and I probably would see him everywhere. I sat in a chair by the unmanned reception desk while Gibson fetched me a glass of water. My hands shook as I sipped on it. An eternity of waiting and a Jaguar pulled up. Out stepped Martinson from the driver’s side and hurried in.
“You alright, Miss Marshall?” he crouched down next to me and smiled reassuringly. “Can I see the message?”
I handed him my mobile. He frowned when he read the message.
“Definitely from him?” he asked me.
I nodded, and then tried to speak, “Yes,” my mouse-like voice was barely audible. I blocked the images forming in my mind. They had to go, each and every one of them.
“Right. I’m going to keep the phone, in case he texts you again. I don’t want you to be further distressed. We’ll get you a new SIM card for it and transfer your contact numbers over. You’ll have to let your friends know about the number change.”
Crap. I could do without this. They might ask why my number was changing.
“How did he get my number?” I was not listed anywhere.
“We’ll find out. Don’t worry,” he patted my arm.
“Does Jason know about this?” I dreaded to think his reaction.
“Yes, I contacted him before I got here. He’s... concerned.”
That was probably putting it mildly, I could tell because Martinson’s usual impassive face had a small grimace on it. “I’m to take you back to the house.”
We were about to leave when my phone rang again, a call this time. Martinson looked at my mobile in his hands.
“Unknown number,” he frowned but put the phone to his ear.
“Hello,” said Martinson tentatively. “Police?” My throat constricted and I listened as Martinson explained to the caller who he was and then there was a pause. “Can you wait a minute, she is standing right next to me.” He removed the phone from his face. “Miss Marshall, do you know a Trudy Belling?”
“Yes, why? She’s a good friend of mine.”
Martinson put the phone back to his ear. “Yes. What can I do for you detective.... I can pass a message to Miss Marshall.”
The tension was palatable as I waited for Martinson to tell me what the hell was going on.
“I see,” Martinson put his hand on hip and looked at the floor. “When was this? Where was she? How bad... Pretty bad then... I am sure she will want to talk to you... Is there a number I can ring you back on?” Martinson gesticulated at Gibson who grabbed a pen and pad of the reception desk. Martinson jotted a number down. “Got that... Will be back in contact shortly,” he hung up.
“What, for God’s sake, Martinson. What’s going on?” Panic was attacking me again, from different quarters - my friend was in trouble.
Martinson sighed and took my arm.
“I’m sorry, Miss, your friend Trudy has been seriously assaulted, she’s in hospital. It doesn’t look good. She was snatched on the way out of the Jinx club early Sunday morning. The only thing she has said is your name.”
I swayed and Martinson grabbed me.
Oh no! The co-incidence was too much. Trudy’s assault had to be linked to him. I just knew it.
“Trudy would have my mobile number. It is too much of a fluke.” I blinked through tears. I put my hand to my mouth to stop a cry.
“Yes,” was all Martinson said.
He sat me back down. Taking out his phone, he walked to the other side of the foyer and rang a number. Jason’s.
“Sir.... There has been a further development. From the police... Miss Marshall’s friend Trudy was seized on Sunday morning and badly beaten, amongst other things.... It would appear she gave him the number under duress.... Yes sir.... In hospital.... Critical... She’s with me,” he turned to look at my tear streaked face.
“I want to go to the hospital,” I found myself saying to Gibson.
“That’s not a good idea, Miss,” she shook her head.
“I don’t fucking care. Take me,” I demanded. Standing up I walked across to Martinson.
“Miss Marshall wants to go to the hospital, sir.” Martinson repeated down the phone to Jason.
He shook his head back at me.
“No. This is my friend and she needs me and I’m fucking going!” I screamed at Martinson, knowing full well that Jason would hear me.
Martinson winced as he was caught between the two of us. He stopped to listen to Jason’s instructions, holding his hand up to me and making me wait.
“Very good, sir, probably for the best,” Martinson hung up. “We’re going to swing by the office and pick up Mr Lucas. He will accompany you to the hospital.”
I physically sagged in relief and sandwiched between Gibson and Martinson, I was quickly escorted to the car outside. We sped off to collect Jason.
Pulling up outside Jason’s headquarters, Martinson opened the passenger door as Jason strode across the pavement, a determined look on his face. He sat next to me, surveying my tear blotched face and trembling hands. His face noticeably softened when he saw my distress. He pulled me on to his lap and held me as I sobbed into his chest. Martinson drove the car towards the hospital.
“The phone, show me,” snapped Jason at Gibson.
She reached back from the front passenger seat and passed Jason my mobile.
He looked at the message. “Little one. Your pet name?”
I nodded back at him.
“This is a death threat. He really is nuts,” he spoke with disgust. “Trudy - did you go out with her on the Wednesday night?”
I nodded again, words seemed to have escaped me.
“He must have watched you arrive together. Missed the opportunity to grab her then and waited for another night for her to appear at the same club. He couldn’t get near you, I had turned up. Though.... You didn’t see him.” Jason paused to think. “There’s no evidence of him being at the club. Check that,” he said to Martinson.
“I’ll get the club to go over their CCTV. The police may already have the film,” said Martinson.
I remembered something.
“Trudy left Wednesday night with someone else, another man. She would have been safe while she was with him,” I whispered. My throat was hoarse. “What’s the bastard done to her?” I glanced at Martinson sensing he knew more than he was saying.
We arrived at the hospital and Jason took my arm guiding me through the corridors, asking questions until we were outside the intensive care unit. There were police officers standing around in the corridor. I recognised Trudy’s mum sitting in the waiting room. Trudy’s dad had passed away many years back.
“Gemma, I’m so pleased you came,” she said as I took her hand.
“Mrs Belling. I’m so sorry I came as soon as I heard.”
I swallowed hard. Her face crumpled and she squeezed my hand. I glanced behind me, looking through the doors to the corridor, to where I saw Jason talking to the police. He was holding my mobile phone and showing them the message. The police kept looking from the phone and then back to me. I could not hear what they were saying.
“Oh, Gemma. I don’t know what to do. He beat her badly, the bastard. Dragged her to an alleyway and then sexually assaulted her.”
The last part of sentence hit me like a freight train. The accumulation of the morning’s events was too much. I crumpled into blackness.
***
“Gemma, Gemma?” Jason’s voice was reaching out to me and then I sensed bright lights.
Too bright. I was lying down. Someone was holding my arm and taking my pulse.
“She’s coming round. You say she’s been exercising this morning? I suspect the shock and lack of food has had a detrimental effect. She’ll be fine once she’s eaten and rested.”
My eyes remained shut. I was not ready to face the situation.
***
Later I opened my eyes again. I was lying on top of a hospital bed in a side room, still dressed with my shoes were off. I searched about with bleary eyes and found Jason on an uncomfortable looking plastic chair, watching me intently. It reminded me of how he stared at me when I stood next to the photocopier, those weeks ago. He reached over and touched my hand.
“OK, babe?” he rubbed a finger along my arm.
Tears formed, trapped in my eyelashes.
No! I was not all right, my best friend had been attacked and I felt responsible as if I could have stopped it. I could not say these words. They stayed bottle up inside me. Jason sat on the bed beside me and embraced me. We did not say anything. I was just relieved he was with me.
They would not let me see Trudy. I was too distressed and she had been sedated while she recovered from severe concussion. I hoped she would not remember what happened to her. Jason insisted I ate something before he took me home. I nibbled on a ghastly hospital sandwich while trying not to throw up.
Leaning on his arm, he took me back to the waiting car and home to Piedmont. He practically had to carry me into the house. Curling up on the sofa, I felt unusually fatigued and Jason went to make me a drink. I could hear him talking to someone in the kitchen and I assumed it was the elusive Mr Brooks. Jason came back with a steaming hot chocolate and blanket, which he put over me. I sip
ped the sweet drink, while he watched me from the other sofa. Then I lay back down.
I must have drifted off, because when I woke, Jason was sitting there with laptop and papers, busy working. He smiled at me and his pleasant expression made me feel good. I sat up leaning on one elbow.
“Hi,” I said quietly. My voice was back.
“Hi to you. I contacted the hospital. The news is good. Your friend is out of danger. Conscious, she doesn’t remember much about the past week, never mind Saturday night. Hopefully it will stay that way.” He put his laptop on the coffee table. “Can I get you anything?”
“Perhaps something to eat.” I pushed the blanket to one side. The wobbly legs had gone and my head was clearer.
I followed him into the kitchen and sat at the table. He fished out something from the fridge and put it in the microwave, a pasta dish.
“I’m sorry, I’ve ruined your work day.” I looked at him apologetically.
“It’s going to be a relatively quiet day. Carla has cancelled my meetings and rerouted my calls through to Philip.”
I glanced at the kitchen clock, two o’clock in afternoon.
Pre-empting my question. “I’m not going back to the office. They can manage without me for one day. It wouldn’t be a good company if it fell apart the moment I’m not around.”
He took the dish out the microwave and setting it in front of me, he watched as I slowly started to eat. I was famished and the food tasted good.
“When you’ve finished that I’ll run a bath for you and then I’m going to make love to you.” He brushed the hair from my face.
I was sincerely touched by his suggestion and he clearly had my needs in his mind. I took his hand in mine and kissed it, keen to show my appreciation. “You really take of me, master. I’m very grateful.”
I smiled, all the stress was starting to drain away and he gazed back at me. We both understood the significance of my words: I had called him ‘master’ for the first time.
I was lying in his arms. The daylight had gone now and the cold evening setting in. Jason has wrapped himself around me like a protective cocoon. I was not sure about having sex. I did not think he could arouse me. His sexual expertise had no bounds though and he worked his magic on me. Taking his time, using his tongue, fingertips and then he easily penetrated me with a well-lubricated erection. I did not think sex could be so gentle or relaxing. Stripping away the worries of the day and blocking out the awful text message. He was definitely master of me in the bedroom, it was undeniable.