Jasmine's Awakening: Her Return

Jasmine sighed outwardly. She felt utterly sad at the thought of losing her lovely hair; the hair that had been the envy of many of her old friends and that had always provoked admiring glances from both men and women everywhere. But Elena was completely right. What made her striking and distinctive also made her easy to spot anywhere.

"You're absolutely right, Elena. There's nothing for it. I shall have to lose this colour and this cut, and blend in with the locals much more. I'll arrange it with the hairdresser tomorrow."

The next night, Elena arrived at the annexe and almost didn't recognise Jasmine. Gone was the streaked dark red bob cut. She sported a short, boyish haircut and her natural colour was replaced with the deepest brown. Elena was so shocked at Jasmine's new look, she spontaneously burst into tears. It had taken Jasmine most of the night to console her. But they had both recognised the need for Jasmine to be anonymous, and had grown accustomed to it in time.

Jasmine's attention returned to the room, and she once again regarded the fat, flabby, corpulent specimen hanging from her chains with contempt. She didn't know - didn't want to know - anything about him, other than that he'd paid his fee for her services. But she could hazard a couple of guesses about him. He was in his late fifties or early sixties and wore a thick blonde moustache, stained with nicotine. His general look, accent and demeanour had given him away as central European; German, Austrian or Polish perhaps; so maybe not a local. Perhaps he was here on holiday. If he was a tourist, maybe he'd left a wife at his holiday apartment. Maybe he thought he'd have a bit of fun, a mild whipping and to try his luck with a hot, younger woman.

Whipping her customers usually excited her as much as it did the customers. She would normally by now be hot, wet and itching between her legs, ready for release with her beautiful Elena back at the annexe. But today she felt absolutely nothing, other than a deep loathing, a crawling of the skin, and an overarching need to get this job over and done with as quickly as possible. He had spoiled everything for her tonight. Oh well, I guess everyone has a bad day at the office now and then. Better get on with it then, girl!

Applying the whip with renewed vigour across the man's back, she saw the fronds splay over his skin and leave the tell-tale pink lines. He jerked yet again, the ball gag muffling his reaction at the abuse. She was repulsed by this... object... before her. What an awful man. I bet you're equally as repulsive in real life. You stink like a distillery. I bet you've left a wife at home to be here tonight, haven't you? Left her all alone, bored and lonely, while you have your fun. Just like Gerry used to do. I wish it was Gerry hanging here. I loved him, but now I would whip him half to death given the chance.

She stepped around to the man's front and started swinging the whip against his chest and stomach. Gerry isn't here. But you'll do!

****************************************************************************

Jasmine headed back to the annexe. Back to a long and very hot soak in the bath to wash away today's work, to a substantial meal, and Elena's soothing embrace.

She had left the man in his bonds, his cock hanging limply. After whipping him all over his man boobs and fat beer belly, she had slipped on a pair of latex gloves and wanked the man until he had pitifully dribbled his sperm into her cupped hand. She reached up and smeared the man's cum over his nose and cheeks, into his moustache and across his gagged lips.

Her final act of the session before leaving had been to rip the butt plug roughly from the man's bruised and flogged ass, and just as roughly to ram home the whip handle into him, leaving the strands dangling from his hindquarters like an animal's tail. If he wants to pull it out, he can do it himself.

On her way out, she had called on Luke and Tom to release the man. They would undo his shackles, invite him to clean up in the bathroom and when he felt ready and able to go, would drive him back to the beach bar for him to make his way back from whence he came. Jasmine's face twitched with a grimace. The stupid, contemptuous old bastard. You can hose him down, sling him in a meat wagon and throw him in the fucking gutter for all I care!

She had decided to tell Luke and Tom that if he wanted another session with her, the price would be doubled. He can pay with his bank account as well as with his flesh!

She reached home, and hastened in to draw that long awaited bath.

*******************************************************************************

Jasmine took in the early morning air and leaning on a fence, gazed out over the view before her.

She had travelled back to Derbyshire, to stay one last time in the house on the hill which she had shared with Gerry, and which overlooked the town she was born and raised in, and until recently worked in. She had asked Gerry if he would leave the house for a week, to allow her time to take what personal effects she wanted back to Greece with her. Everything she owned here and still wanted to keep was now crated and had been sent on ahead by road, to arrive later. By then, she would be long back on the island.

She had needed to come back to tie up her affairs in the UK, and also to take some much needed time off. Business was absolutely booming; there were more customers than ever before, and lots wanting a second and even third session with her. 'Mistress J' had started to garner a serious reputation in her field for being skilful, adept, thorough and particularly sadistic, and good word had travelled fast. They had raised her fees in response to the great reviews and rising demand, but bookings still remained resolutely full. Jasmine had made far more money in the last few months than she had even in her wildest dreams thought possible. But it had all come at a price. She had started to feel tired and drawn. It wasn't safe to have more than one customer an evening, so she had found herself working seven evenings a week. At Luke and Tom's insistence, they had cleared her diary for a couple of weeks of all bookings. She needed the rest. The clients would come back, they assured her. But right now, go sort out what you need to do and take some time off.

She had met Gerry on her first night back. He was sober and tearful, and begged her for another chance to salvage their marriage. But she had changed, fundamentally and irretrievably, and told him so. There was no place in her life for him anymore. She told him that she had started divorce proceedings, that she was applying for indefinite leave to stay in Greece and that she would not be returning to the UK. She had met someone else. He should direct any further matters through her solicitor. After she had said all she came to say, she turned away and leaving him weeping, never saw him again.

Elena had not come to that meeting. Jasmine had not thought it a good idea. But she was waiting for her, beside the roaring log fire they had kept burning in the house for the duration of their stay.

Elena had accompanied Jasmine a couple of days later when she'd arranged to meet with her old friends. Arm in arm, Jasmine introduced her to them as her lover. Jasmine's friends were cordial and pleased to see her to catch up, but they clearly had views on what had happened between her and Gerry, and she could see the discomfort of torn loyalties in some of them. They all kissed goodbye and her friends made vague plans to come visit her on the island in the summer. But you won't. People never do. Oh well. Time to move on.

Jasmine took in the panorama from what was her garden, snow lying as a dirty white carpet over the dales and the roofs of the distant houses. She could see the wood smoke rising from the stone chimneys as people lit their first fires of the day. The early winter air was cold but dry, and the sun was set in a clear blue sky. Not as clear and bright as back home though.

Jasmine heard footsteps crunch in the snow behind her, looked over her shoulder and smiled to see Elena carrying two mugs of hot tea, steaming in the cold air. She was wrapped in a thick, chunky sweater with scarf and knitted beret, her cheeks flushed with the cold. Elena Ariadne Kokkinos, you beautiful creature! You could wear a bin bag and still look amazing!

Elena handed her one of the mugs and interlocked her fingers into Jasmine's free hand. She leaned in to kiss Jasmine full on the lips. "A lovely day. But a bit bleak. I like it here, but not too much. It is too cold for me. Shall we go home?"

Jasmine took one last look over the countryside that had until now meant so much to her. It's undoubtedly beautiful. It was great to grow up here. But I'm afraid in the end you just weren't enough for me. Goodbye.

She gripped Elena's hand in hers, and they turned back to the house.

"Yes. Let's go home."