What To Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection Part Two (37 page)

His cry was so primal that it startled me, the realization I’d been holding my breath, that my body was as tense as his, breathlessly waiting for this moment.

But when he came, as he filled me with heat, my body went with him, surprising me with the strength of my orgasm. I arched against Jake, my cry was almost as primal as his, pulling him down to me with my arms and legs. We were shuddering, twisting and grinding against each other in mutual ecstasy, our bodies taking and giving simultaneously.

Finally, Jake collapsed next to me, wrapping his arms around my body, pulling me close against his chest. I could hear his heart pounding, feel the muscles slowly soften as his body relaxed, as his breathing slowed.

He untangled the sheets from the end of the bed, pulling them up over our cooling bodies, and we stayed in the bed together for a long time. We were quiet after that; words would have been meaningless. In silence, he helped me dress, ran his fingers through my hair in an effort to restore some semblance of order to my tangled locks, smiling at his attempts. We were gentle with each other, pausing to exchange lingering kisses, taking every opportunity to touch and be touched.

It was very late when Jake drove me home. The rain had stopped and a moon was playing hide and seek in the clouds. We were close to my apartment when I spoke.

“Thank you for tonight, Jake. I had a wonderful time.”

Jake’s hand left the steering wheel long enough to caress my leg.

“I had a good time too, Abby.”

There was a beat of silence, then Jake spoke. “I’d like to have a session on Saturday afternoon.”

I felt more than saw his glance in the dark. My heart started to thud.

“I’d like that. Do you have a plan?”

There was a smile in Jake’s voice. “I do, but you’ll have to be surprised.”

Jake walked me to my apartment door, leaving me with a lingering kiss. I watched him walk down the hall to the elevator before I let myself into the apartment.

The cat met me at the door, complaining loudly about his missing dinner.

“Sorry Big Guy. And I didn’t even bring you a doggy bag…er, kitty bag, did I?” I dumped a scoop of food in his dish, headed to my bedroom, stripping my clothes off along the way. I glanced at the clock; I was going to get maybe four hours of sleep.

But I didn’t care. I wanted to think about Jake, all the different facets of this complex man I’d experienced in one evening: his complete control—of me and himself—during dinner; his primal passion—and subsequent tenderness—in the tower room.

But the scent of us, of our evening together, wrapped around me like Jake’s arms. I inhaled deeply and was asleep instantly.

I’d plunged myself into work that week, which wasn’t too hard with my new client. Leslie had been inquisitive at first and then disappointed with the lack of certain details she deemed crucial. We’d finally had time for lunch later in the week.

“At least you can tell me about the non-bondage sex, can’t you?” We were back at the Italian deli, this time sharing a stromboli. Leslie was practically drooling; I wasn’t sure if it was over the spicy food or the anticipation of some juicy details about Jake.

“Well, yeah. I suppose.” I chewed for a minute.
What the hell. I really do want to talk about Jake.

I gave her the details, leaving out the bit about the sex being my reward for being a good girl. It was fun indulging in girl talk with Leslie. And it gave me a thrill to remember all the details of my time with Jake.

Leslie was looking at me, one eyebrow raised.

“What?” I frowned at her. “Why the look?”

“You. You’re different with this guy. Normally you’d have spilled the details about the sex and then gone off on a riff about how much in love you were with him. But you have not said the word ‘love’ once. Not once.”

I sat back. She was right. Whatever I felt for Jake at this point, and I did feel quite a bit, love wasn’t part of it. I respected him; I liked him a lot, and I certainly was attracted to him. And I thought I trusted him a great deal. But my usual obsessive version of love was absent.
That’s good, right?

Leslie was watching me closely. “Abby, are you happy with this…thing, this relationship? Really happy?”

I looked at her. And then I nodded. “Yeah, Leslie. I am. Really.” And I realized that was a far better feeling than my usual obsessive love.

Saturday had seemed so far away on Monday night, but it finally arrived. Jake had said I would be in submissive mode the entire time, from when I arrived at the tower room until he said I was not. I was to call him Master, not speak unless spoken to and not to indulge in, as he called it while explaining my behavior in our first session, ‘topping from the bottom’.

In other words, no outbursts, stay in the session and use the safe word if I needed to.

I parked in what I considered my spot now, beneath the portico, at three o’clock. Jake met me at the bottom of the tower stairs, shirtless and barefoot, wearing the gray sweats. I felt a thud deep inside; seeing him like this brought back memories of our last session.

“Abby.” He kissed me deeply, pulling me against him for a moment. “I’ve missed you.”

He led me by the hand up the stairs to the tower room door, which stood open.

“Come in for a minute. I want to talk about this session and make sure you’re comfortable with where I want to go with this.”

Jake took me to the bed, motioning for me to sit down. It was stripped down to just the black sheet, stretched taut across the mattress. The lush linens and pillows from our last encounter were gone, as were the candles. With a shock, I realized I’d had that image in my mind, but the romantic atmosphere was gone. This was Jake and me, dominant and submissive. Something clicked over in my mind. I really hadn’t been in submissive mode until now.

“I want to try nipple clamps with you tonight. Nipple play; heightened sensory awareness.”

For some reason the clinical description irritated me. I knew Jake needed to control these encounters and for him, that meant the textbook description of whatever he was going to do with or to me. I swallowed, letting it go.
Starting off on the wrong submissive foot here, girl.

“Are you okay with this? You can stop it at any time.”

He was holding something in his hand, two clamps with some black rubber attached by a silver chain. They looked wicked but intriguing all at the same time.

I took the clamps, experimentally attaching one to my little finger. It pinched, but not hard. Jake took the other end, holding my hand, turning it palm up, holding the clamp above the webbing between my thumb and index finger.

“They’re adjustable. We can start with the lightest pressure, like this…” The clamp came down on the sensitive skin of my hand. I jumped, more from surprise than pain. Jake looked up at me.

“Okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah, it just surprised me. They’re fine.” I wiggled my hand, the weight of the chain and other hook pulling on my hand. I looked up at him. “I’d like to try them.”

Jake smiled. “Okay. You can go change and I’ll get set up. When you come into the session, hang your robe on the hook on the door and then stand, your hands in front of you, eyes lowered, and wait for my instructions.” He stood, pulling me up off the bed, kissing me quickly.

“And it’s Master when you return.” With surprising force, he swatted my backside as I left the room.

In the bathroom, I took off my clothes, this time just a shirt and jeans, no bra or panties. I slipped into my robe, pulled my hair back and secured it before padding down the hall to the tower room.

Jake was waiting, the clamps in one hand and something black in the other. I wanted to ask, but remembered I was now in total submissive role. I hung up the robe, stood with my hands in front of me. I dropped my eyes, but I would not lower my head. He hadn’t said I needed to do that.

“I have a collar for you, Abby. Something to help you remember your role. And remember too that there is punishment for disobedience. I will spank you if you disobey. Do you understand?”

I looked up at him. “Yes, Master.” He smiled.

“Good. Come here.” I walked across the room, very much aware of the feel of the rug beneath my bare feet, the gentle breeze from one of the open windows. The curtains were pulled, but it had been an unseasonably warm day and Jake must have opened a window earlier. It surprised me to think he spent time here when we didn’t have a session.
What exactly would he do here alone?

But then all thoughts left my mind as I stood in front of Jake. He held out a wide black leather collar with a large silver ring in the center.

“Kneel, Abby.”

I did, and he moved behind me, bring the collar around my neck, fastening it behind me. It was heavier than it looked, the weight settling against my skin. Jake moved back in front of me, standing just a foot or so away.

I was a submissive, kneeling in front of this man, wearing a collar. A week or so ago, I’d have been horrified at the thought. Now, it didn’t seem all that terrible. There was a tiny nagging voice, way back in my mind, that still protested. But a louder voice—and my body—welcomed this.

Jake was watching me and I realized I was staring at his crotch. There was no visible erection, just a sense of weight and mass. And then I realized Jake had spoken.

“Abby?”

My eyes snapped up to his.
What’s the submissive way to say ‘huh’?

“I’m sorry, Master. Could you repeat the question?”

“I asked you if the collar was too tight.” There was a slight smile playing around the corners of his mouth. I wasn’t sure if he was amused by my gaff, irritated because I disobeyed or just enjoying my discomfort.

“No, Master. The collar is fine.”

“Good. Stand up.” I did. The collar was actually quite annoying, wide enough to rub against my neck, heavy enough not to ignore, which I figured was its purpose.

Jake had picked up something from a silver bowl on a nearby table. I saw it was an ice cube and since we were dealing with ‘heightened sensitivity’ and my nipples, I knew exactly where that ice cube was going to go.

I tensed, jerking away, like a skittish horse. There was a sharp intake of breath; Jake stopped, the dripping ice cube held in his hand. My eyes flew to his face, my hand to my mouth.
Oh, shit.

“I’m sorry, Jake….I, just…it’s…well, cold…” I gestured vaguely in the direction of the melting ice cube held forgotten in his hand. There was more; I felt vulnerable, standing naked in this room, aware of how imperfect my body was, suddenly feeling out of my depth. I wanted the lights out, or the blindfold back on.
If I can’t see you, you can’t see me.

But there was no way to explain all that to Jake, not now, not unless I wanted to stop the whole session. And I didn’t want that.

“Abby. You are disobeying me at the moment. You can stop talking.” He turned, tossing the ice cube back with the rest. I heard it clink against the edge of the bowl. He wiped his hand on his sweat pants.

“Come with me.”

I followed Jake to the other end of the room, away from the bed. There was a small table and chair set against one wall. I’d never paid attention to this end of the room, couldn’t even say if this furniture had been here before.