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Semi-Precious Stones - 2. A sense of perspective 2. A sense of perspective Jade placed the silver tray on the side-table and smoothed a non-existent crease from her blouse. She took a deep breath and knocked firmly on the ancient oak door that marked the threshold of his lair. The corridor was dark, silent save the ticking of a distant clock; portraits of men whose identities remained a mystery stared down on her with unblinking eyes. When the summons came, she took another breath and cleared her mind of the images that had plagued her since her return to the house and the warning he had summoned her. He was stationed as he always was on such occasions, behind the large mahogany desk on the far side of the room, positioned directly opposite the door so all those entering fell immediately under his gaze and were robbed of any momentary hiding place in which they might prepare their thoughts. His eyes fixed on hers as she entered, daring her to look away as she made her way across the thick, plush carpet towards him. The tight smile etched at the corners of his mouth appeared at first welcoming, but Jade recognised the hint of a menace masked behind those thin lips. She swallowed her fear in hope of masking it from him and fought the tremors building in her fingers and the tell-tale rattle of porcelain on silver. She placed the tray on the desk in front of him, coaxing up the smile of a waitress delivering dinner to a restaurant’s best customer and turned back towards the door. For a few short seconds the knots in her shoulders and in the pit of her stomach eased as each step took her closer to the cool safety of the corridor and the regulated monotony of the ticking clock. The only sound was the low crackle of logs in the grate. Her fingers grasped the handle, worn smooth by a thousand hands across the decades, and the door swung open on silent hinges until finally, inevitably, he said her name. His voice was calm. A bead of cold sweat trickled down her spine beneath the white cotton blouse which had, like everything she wore, been chosen for her. “Close the door please, Jade,” he said, as if in afterthought. Her knuckles whitened on the handle as the thought of running, of escape, of finding that policeman, flashed momentarily across her subconscious, but the weight of defeat turned her legs to lead. She eased the heavy oak shut until she felt the latch take hold in the mechanism. Slowly, she turned to face him with head bowed and hands clasped together in front of her as when summoned before the headmistress half a lifetime ago. She stood in silence, eyes to the floor, the burden of his gaze heavy on her shoulders. “Where have you been, Jade?” he said at last. “I called for tea 15 minutes ago.” She dared not raise her head and felt a surge of panic at the sight of the wasteland’s dirt and dust on her polished boots. “I called for you 15 minutes ago,” the minor alteration cut her like a blade. “I’m sorry, Mr Stone,” she mumbled, seeking sanctuary in the kaleidoscope patterns of the oriental weave that stretched from wall to wall. “Where have you been, Jade?” he said again, a rising displeasure dripping from his words. “I,” she paused, contemplating the stupidity of a lie. “I went out, Sir.” “Out?” he said in mock surprise as she lifted her head. “Now why might you wish to go out?” “I went for a walk, Sir,” were the only words she could muster. He nodded and smiled that smile: that smile she hated, that smile she feared. His index fingers formed a steeple and he pressed them to his lips in thoughtful contemplation. His eyes sliced through her and she knew her secret was no more. Her heart pounded heavy in her chest; blood roared in her ears like a jet engine. He nodded, if only to himself, and beckoned her towards him, away from the door. She stepped forward until she was standing in front of his desk, but she knew that that would not be enough. The silver tray with steaming teapot, cup and milk jug remained untouched as she had left it. She started as if to speak but recognised the disappointment and surprise in his eyes and so fell silent before offering a word. Logs crackled and hissed under all-consuming flames. A minute movement of his head summoned her around the desk and he swivelled his chair to face her as she reached her place beside him. Slowly, heavily, he leaned back in his seat and his steely gaze measured her from toe to temple. Wordlessly, she lowered herself to her knees with the practised poise of a ballerina repeating her positions. Frozen moments passed. Jade allowed her eyes to close until she felt the warmth of his hand as he brushed a stray hair from her face. A chill raced down her spine from contact. “You went for a walk?” he said at last. “That’s good Jade; sometimes we all need a breath of air.” “Yes sir,” she nodded. “That’s good,” he said again, as if he had not heard her. “Sometimes we all need to regain our sense of perspective.” Jade forced a grateful smile and lowered her head in defeat. He stroked her cheek and eased the comb of his fingers through her silken hair. She felt the acid sting of nausea rise from her stomach. “Have you regained your perspective, Jade?” She stared at the patterns beneath his feet, at the brilliant shine on his Italian leather shoes, but said nothing. The thought of the dirt on her own boots stabbed her conscience. She felt his fingers tighten in her hair for an immeasurable moment before the searing pain tore through her brain as he jerked her head backwards. “Have you regained your perspective, Jade,” he repeated; his voice cold and calm: the favoured diner querying the limitations of the wine list. She swallowed her scream. It took away the taste of vomit. “Yes Sir,” she said, her voice cracking. He held her for a heartbeat then let her hair fall free as if it had never been less. Only the burning fury of her scalp dismissed the lie. Tears filled her eyes. She knew he relished her anguish and her fury; she recognised the swelling presence in his trousers. His fingers slipped back into an easy, tender combing motion and the fingertips of his free hand gave her cheek a gentle caress: a parent offering forgiveness to a wayward now remorseful . “That’s good Jade. That’s good.” Eventually he smiled and offered her the merest hint of a nod, indicating that she should begin. Jade acquiesced without resistance. She reached out her hand, brushing her palm across the material sheltering his growing cock. She felt its heat as it came to life and stiffened further. She forced herself to hold his gaze as she began to gently slide her hand over him, attempting to reclaim some faint sense of control as his body reacted to her touch. She moved slowly, knowing this to be the only power she could claim, and savoured her momentary advantage. His cock twitched further into life in his trousers as hot blood surged through his body and he slipped into a silent reverie. Slowly, as slowly as she dared, Jade slid her hand up over him until her fingers deftly found his zipper. She could sense his cock swelling further with each meticulous movement of her hand. She paused until his half-drawn lids flickered opened and his attention focussed on the woman on her knees before him. He exhaled long and deep as she eased the fastener down and as the slow groan escaped his throat the memory of Amber’s lifeless body flashed across Jade’s mind. She pushed the thought away and slipped her hand inside his trousers to where his cock had grown hard and hot awaiting the touch of her flesh. It jerked involuntarily to meet her as if seeking the embrace of her fingers as she closed her grip around its warmth. That hateful, fearful smile creased his lips as Jade pulled his swollen cock free of through the window of his trousers. She closed her fingers around his stiffening shaft and gripped it tightly, stroking him slowly until his erection was complete. Only then, when his cock stood proud and angry, the essence of his power over her; the symbol of his dominance and control, did she lean in close, her eyes defiant in his gaze, and take him deep into her mouth. |
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Sir, that is so intense, my tears dried.. but my mind I can not help being a little aroused his reaction.. I still fear for her...
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His control is direct and absolute.
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