The third book – Trust Me to Keep You – continues the story of Jason and Gemma. In this volume, I shift the focus from time to time on to Jason. So many BDSM books are told solely from the perspective of the submissive girlfriend / lover and the Dominant is left in the dark. In this book I bring Jason out into the limelight a little more. He still has an enigmatic feel to him, but Gemma starts to unlock him too and there will be secrets.
How did Jason start out? I allude to part of his story here on this website in the short story Blue Eyes and Barbie. Jason had many years behind him as a Dominant before he met Gemma. How did he procure his submissives?
I wrote a prologue: The New Sub, and it is the opening chapter of the third book. It is also a prologue to the trilogy.
There was no glitter ball, roving lights, flashing dance floors or booming music accompanied by a rapping DJ. Neither were there twisted bodies squeezing into spaces and shouting over the noise. No, the dimly lit club had breathing room, low voices and barely discernible music. Elegance came in the form of mahogany furnishings with rich red leather upholstery. The carpet was crimson too, the walls panelled or covered by green and red striped flock wallpaper. The bar had all the trappings of a traditional Gentlemen’s club.
In the soft light, it was possible to make out the smartly dressed men seated or standing around with glasses in hand. The women present where dressed to a varying degree and meekly waited either standing or perched on low stools. Generally, they spoke little and usually in soft tones with each other. The liveried bar staff were well versed in the preferences of their clientele. They moved amongst the tables and chairs, collecting empty glasses and depositing fresh ones. There was music, the genres falling under the categories of either easy listening, jazz or the occasional classical string quartet.
To call the place a club to the young, boisterous Friday night brigade would be laughable. However, it was a club and its membership was exclusive, wealthy and imbued the atmosphere with their peculiar tastes and inclinations. Typical of any club was the general hubbub of pleasant chatter and the occasional outbreak of laughter or titters.
Jason Lucas sat fingering his glass of tonic water. He was seated to one side of the room against a wall in the dimmest corner. The location enabled him to observe the Saturday night clientele, their nuances and mannerisms on full display. Sipping the cold liquid, he glanced across to his friend Garrett and smiled to himself. Garrett was in his element with his glossy black hair swept back, tuxedo immaculate and shoes glimmering. His hand rested against the back of a woman, who stood by his side. Her blonde hair tied back and her hands clasped together in front of her pregnant belly. She, like many of the women the room, was dressed in a short skirted dress, stockings and high heels. What of course made her, and the other females present, different was the indecent dress that existed above the waistline. Garrett’s sub wore only a tight latex bra, complete with straps and buckles. Her breasts were perched high and prominent above her swollen belly and about her neck she wore a black leather collar, complete with a small ring for her leash, the end of which was held in Garrett’s other glassless hand.
Jason was unaccompanied, he did not mind. He did not expect to remain solitary for the entire evening. The night was young and the club’s usual activities had barely commenced. The communal rooms were unoccupied; it would not be long before they would be in use. The grunts, groans and shrieks of their occupants on full display to the voyeuristic elements of the club members. This area was popular with the less financially endowed members, who unable to afford to hire a private room, were happy with the prestige of being able to make use of the shared facilities.
There were monitors on hand to prevent the abuse of rules and to intervene if necessary. A rare occurrence, thankfully. The scantily attired club girls were currently sequestered upstairs in their rest rooms waiting to be summoned. The private rooms were generally in constant use from the moment the club opened its doors in the early evening. Though ridiculously expensive, the rooms were popular with the wealthier members. Rooms often required to be booked weeks in advance, especially those with specialist equipment and furniture.
Jason had one such room booked. He was waiting for his evening’s entertainment to arrive. Tonight Jason was about to conduct an interview in his own particular style and then decide whether he had found his next submissive. It had been a few weeks since his last companion had left him. A mutually agreed arrangement, as in nearly all cases of departure. Since then he had been travelling extensively on business and had not been required to replace her. Now he was settling back into the routine of home life and he was lacking the pleasures of dominating. Celibacy he could live with for substantial periods, however he had other needs that required to be met.
His visits to the club were sporadic at best, though this did not lessen the esteem the other members held in him. Always happy to give advice and unperturbed by the conversation about scenes or technique. If there was an issue of etiquette or protocol, then he occasionally and quietly stepped in and dealt with matter. Mostly all that was required was some well delivered charm. On other rarer occasions, he would practise his renown ruthlessness and some poor soul would shrink and writhe under is verbal lashings, although always conducted prudently and where possible in private. This made for an uncomfortable reminder to the submissives who were employed in a professional capacity by the club; Mr Lucas’s tongue was just as vicious as the cane he expertly exercised.
“Mr Lucas. The girl has arrived and is waiting for you in room six.” The steward bent down to close to Jason’s reclined head to deliver his message. Jason opened his eyes and sat up.
“Blindfolded?” he queried.
Jason did not rush, as there was plenty of time. Dressed in a dinner jacket and bow-tie, his appearance was formal. A long slender finger ran along his collar, checking the bow-tie was straight. The patent leather shoes shone even though the uplighters cast very little direct light. Pursing his thin lips, he eased himself up out of the chair and allowed his clothes to settle about his frame. Muscular across the shoulders and chest, his trim waist and narrow hips prevented his tallness from appearing brawny. What drew most people’s attention were the blonde hair – yellowish tips under the lights countered by darker roots and a youthful attribute amongst his other ageless features – and the blue eyes. No matter where he looked, they always seemed to be in focus and gave the onlooker a sense of discomfort. Piercing in nature, many felt their inner thoughts had been exposed by his stare, as if his optical organs had x-ray powers.
Handing his empty glass to the nearby waiter, Jason made his way to the end of one of the corridors leading off the atrium. Pausing for a minute, he played in his mind what he would do to her. Keen to find a new submissive as quickly as possible, he hoped she would be suitable.
The naked girl was perhaps was too young, however looks could be deceptive, he thought. He had been told she was twenty: she looked sixteen. Not skinny nor blessed with a fulsome figure. A nice neat waist and broad hips, exactly how he liked the dimensions. She was quivering slightly and her flesh was goose bumped. The blindfold remained in place. At least she had not been tempted to peep. Dark brown hair and a hint of freckles visible under the bottom of the blindfold, perhaps it explained why she looked young. The rest of her skin perfect and unblemished. Jason took it all in and assessed her attractiveness. He could not fuck something he did not find pleasing to his eyes.
She must have heard the door and his steps because she nervously jerked in response to the bolt sliding across. She was kept waiting further as he slipped his jacket and bowtie off, putting them on the door hook. Sitting down he removed his socks and shoes, allowing his feet to patter quietly around the room, gathering what he needed. By now, her breathing was very audible and she must be beyond excitement and into anxiety. He liked his subs to hover between lust and fear, it kept them malleable and suggestive.
Jason stood over her and put a hand on her head.
“What’s your name?” he asked gently. Though he knew it, he wanted her to say it.
“Chloe, sir,” her voice was shaky.
The name did not do anything for him, it had a childish ring to it; she would need a more imaginative pet name. However, he was getting ahead of himself. Time to put her at ease, he did not believe in tormenting a prospective sub and he wanted to find out what pleasurable intercourse would be like with her. If she could not tolerate a hard fuck, she was not going to be visiting him at his house. He sat and took her hand, drawing her closer to him. She knelt between his straddled legs.
“Tell me about yourself.” He picked a stray eyelash off her face, just below her blindfold.
Chloe flinched slightly, not realising how close his hands were to her face. “Um, I’m a trainee accountant. I work hard and I look after myself. I’m a runner. I like to run every day if I can.” She hoped she had impressed him.
“How did you start out being a sub?”
“Two years ago with my boyfriend. We experimented and I liked doing frisky stuff. We split up and I continued to try things out with different men,” she explained. “Not many,” she added hastily as if to imply she was not a nymphomania. “Then I was acquired by an experienced dominant and he suggested I tried others, to you know, broaden myself.”
“What do you like doing?” Jason remained friendly and inquisitive about his potential submissive.
“I’m adventurous; I like most things. Bondage, clamps are fun and spanking, you know, pain and pleasure,” her voice had become quieter.
He was conscious that she failed to mention giving up control or providing him with pleasure. Inwardly he sighed, so many women he met were not aware of what a submissive truly meant to him.
“You liked to be whipped then?”
Chloe answered his question with a slight nod of acknowledgement.
“What don’t you like? Generally, we can do details later.”
“I think I’m still finding out. Not sure about electricity or sharps things. I don’t like my feet being touched. I panic a bit when people touch my feet,” she admitted.
Jason smiled. There was always something personal that freaked most people out when it came to intimacy. “Don’t worry, I won’t develop a foot fetish for you. What are your safe-words?” he asked and she provided them.
“Stand up,” he said as he rose to his feet.
She was right next to him and the top of her head nearly made it to his shoulders. Very diminutive in height but small statures he found were not a problem when they were bent over or tied down.
“Chloe. Try to relax. You’re going to have fun and I want you to enjoy yourself.”
He took his hand and cupped her sex with it. She was smooth but there was a little moisture for what he had in mind.
“Part your legs more, that’s it, good girl.” He felt round and slid a finger between her buttock cheeks, she noticeably gasped. “Do you like it up there?” he asked with his lips very close to her ear.
“Mmmm,” Chloe hesitated. “Yes, sir.”
“Don’t feel guilty about it,” he said sweetly. “And don’t hesitate when you answer me,” he added with a sterner voice. “We’ll go through your soft limits later. You can give me the details then. For now, I’m going to tie you up and use you with my hands. No toys, then a little spanking. You have my permission to come. Show me how you pleasure yourself.”
He sounded generous, but the reality was he wanted to know if she was able to hold off coming without his demanding it. His hands continued to explore her. Buttocks ample for his requirements, belly smooth and flat, her breasts slightly on the small side. He tugged on a nipple, drawing it out and twisting it. She groaned in genuine pleasure.
Good, he thought, contrived pleasure he detested. Fake orgasms or pretend moans of contentment resulted in punishments that would elicit authentic responses.
“Let’s start then,” he said grabbing her hair in his hands.
Forty-five minutes later, he had finished with her.
“Good girl,” he stroked her head gently. “I’m pleased.”
He hung the paddle back up and put on his clothes.
“You have fifteen minutes to recuperate. Come and find me in the bar. You can remove your blindfold once I have left the room.”
Jason released her bonds and immediately left the room. Chloe eased her throbbing body off the whipping bench and slipped off the blindfold. The light seared into her eyes. A wave of relief passed over her. Jason Lucas was pleased with her performance. Then she thought about the consequences of passing his little test. She would become his submissive, join him at his house for weekends and accompany him to the club. A status she would revel in and she would try hard to prove her worth to the handsome mysterious millionaire.
She smiled – how difficult could that be?
Jason’s bodyguard and chauffeur, Chris Martinson, caught sight of her as she slipped out of the TV room one day at Blythewood House. The renovation of the country mansion had not long been complete and Martinson was waiting on Mr Lucas in order to drive his boss to a Saturday evening function. Most times he would wait in the car, but that evening he had dropped off recently delivered parcels and elected to wait in the grand hallway. He had only seen the current girl, named Chloe, a handful of times. She arrived on Friday evenings by taxi and departed mid-morning on Sundays, before Mr Lucas left for his golf session. She was shy and small in stature.
That day she moved gingerly and with apparent discomfort. Martinson winced on her behalf. He had decided, a long time ago, not to judge Mr Lucas over his chosen lifestyle. Money bought silence very effectively. The one time military police officer had seen many things when he was in the army, and though he could not understand the desires or activities, which the unconventional relationship thrived upon, he respected Mr Lucas as a decent man.
The girls he brought to his house were never harmed to an extent they could not function or go about their working week. When they were unwell or distressed he was tender with them. Quite often Martinson drove them home or to the nearby station to ensure they were safe. They were given expensive clothes and other small extravagances, which made the girls smile or look gleefully at Mr Lucas. When they disobeyed, which seemed to be a common occurrence, he was cold-hearted and metered out some harsh punishments. Those actions Martinson struggled to understand and in the end he decided not to wonder why but just to accept and ignore.
That was another example of Martinson’s approach. He offered no words of sympathy, comment or even an acknowledgement. He watched the girl make her way into the kitchen, to cook her own evening meal, to be taken in solitude. He concluded quite accurately that she was too fragile to last long in Jason Lucas’s exacting company. In a few weeks, she too would be gone, like all the others. Martinson sighed, he sincerely hoped Mr Lucas would cease his quest to find the perfect mate and accept that love came in guises that are more conventional. One day the man would have to settle down and marry.
Martinson watched as his boss descended the staircase adjusting his golden cufflinks as he went. The man looked smart and sophisticated. He also looked spritely and energetic, the opposite of his poor girl. Whatever was happening in his secret room, the coupling was uneven and disproportionately in Mr Lucas’s favour. Something had to change – the man needed to be in love.
“Come Martinson,” said Jason Lucas buoyantly. “Let’s be about this evening’s business.”