by P Nelson
He took the stairs two at a time, and not even winded, Flynn opened the fire door to the wheelhouse. Captain Ron stood at the controls, wheel held in his hands, absolute concentration on the water all around them. Flynn closed the door and leaned back against it. The view of West Vancouver was beautiful before the peninsula disappeared behind them. It was a two-day sail up the coast of British Colombia to his private island. His escape from the grind of everyday life.
“Is there something you needed, sir?” Ron hadn’t taken his attention away from the controls. He was an able sea captain and a great man. Flynn had poached him from one of his competitors. One of his skills was that he could spot talent and engender loyalty, and he compensated his employees well for both.
“No.” Flynn felt like an idiot. There was no need for him to be up in the wheelhouse. Captain Ron would have everything under control. “I best get back to work.”
“If you’ll excuse me for saying.” Captain Ron’s attention had shifted to Flynn. Not by a twitch of his body was this obvious, it was more in the way the man addressed him.
“No excuses needed.” Flynn ground out.
“All this is shit. I know it. You know it. The RCMP officer hanging around on the lounge deck knows it.” Ron lifted one shoulder in a light shrug. “You introduced him as a friend. But I’ve never seen him before and he has cop written all over him.”
“It will displease Detective Chamberlain to hear your summation of his undercover skills.” Flynn could have laughed in different circumstances. “He comes with high recommendations from his superiors.”
“He’s not my concern.” Flynn caught Captain Ron’s expression reflected for a minute in the glass of the wheelhouse. “You going to be all right?”
“Yes. Of course.” Flynn didn’t bother to keep the annoyance out of his voice.
“Is your brother going to make it out alive?” Captain Ron’s lips twitched.
“You might have me there.” Flynn reached behind him for the door.
“Take care of Dr Jones. I see the way she looks at you. And you her.” A stray sunbeam wiped Captain Ron’s gaze from the window.
“You steer this tug in the right direction.” Flynn didn’t address his captain’s comment. Captain Ron didn’t answer back. Flynn left the wheelhouse and went descended the stairs.
His cell phone was off. There would be many people doing their best to contact him: reporters, business friends and foes alike. He had given his personal secretary time off and the Board of Directors of Banroch Industries, to a man, knew of the whole escapade. There wasn’t anyone he needed to talk to. Other than the stubborn sub sitting in his cabin, naked, cooling her heels.
When Flynn walked into the main lounge he found the new crew member stocking the bar. He frowned. It might not be unusual for him to run into certain crew members, they were aboard a ship. A very large vessel, but still a boat out at sea. However, it was unusual to encounter the same people repeatedly.
“I’m sorry, Mr Banroch. I’m behind in my duties.” Her smile was pained as she arranged the crystal decanters full of alcohol on the bar. “You were indisposed, and I thought…” Her voice trailed off as her face turned bright red.
“What’s your name?” He put his CEO hat on and started a charm offensive. Despite what Calla concluded, he wasn’t a cave man all the time.
“Alicia, Master, I mean, Mr Banroch.” Alicia stared down at the solid wood bar.
“Are you in the lifestyle, Alicia?” Flynn only asked because he knew Captain Ron and his team would have informed her about his BDSM lifestyle before the media got a hold of it. And they would have briefed her about the expectations he had on board and what was not permitted. The iron clad non-disclosure agreement outlining this scenario didn’t hurt either. He liked preparation for any unforeseen circumstances.
“Yes, Master Banroch.” Alicia answered without lifting her gaze. He noticed her breathing had become rapid and shallow.
“We are not in a dungeon and we are not playing here.” His voice remained firm as he reminded Alicia she was his employee.
“Oh, I know, Mr Banroch.” She stared up at him and smiled. “They said sometimes the crew…that you didn’t mind if...” Her voice trailed away.
“You will need to become more assertive if you want to thrive in the BDSM world.” Flynn remembered Calla in their cabin, thinking of ways to top him from the bottom. She was his sub. Her submission was earned. And it tasted all the sweeter because she didn’t just capitulate to him. Calla demanded her rights as a sub and he delivered her needs, spiked with pain and smoothed out with pleasure.
“Yes, Mr Banroch.” She smiled. “I was hoping you might give me some pointers about getting on in the kink world. I’m new to practicing, but I’ve enjoyed everything I’ve experienced so far.” Gone was the bashful sub and in her place, a calculating ingénue. The woman who was attempting to play him was about to learn her mistake.
“You’d be better off speaking with Dr Jones.” Flynn didn’t bother to smile back. “She is a practicing psychologist and an expert in BDSM. She will be able to answer questions you might have about the lifestyle and guide you in best practice.” Alicia came around the bar, her hips swaying a little, eyes a little too wide.
“Oh, I saw Dr Jones come on board. And I have to say she is a beautiful woman. I wouldn’t mind submitting with her to you.” Her tongue came out in an artful display of seduction. Flynn’s cock was unmoved. The body he wanted to be working over was behind his cabin door.
“To my knowledge, Dr Jones has never submitted with another sub.” Flynn knew this for certain, because he had witnessed all her scenes at The Cage. Whether the scenes occurred in the dungeon or in one of the privacy rooms upstairs. “And I have no need of another sub. Dr Jones and I have a contract.”
“Oh.” Disappointment coloured Alicia’s tone. Flynn thought he saw frustration passed through her expression before she pasted on a smile. “Well if you’re looking for a play partner...”
“Several of the crew members are in the lifestyle and would have made their intentions clear to you.” Flynn reminded himself to warn Chamberlain about the girl. He wasn’t sure if there was something off about her, or if she was just struggling with her chosen lifestyle.
“Of course. Thank you. I should get back to work.” Alicia picked up a bucket full of random supplies and headed out of the lounge. Flynn watched her go in the mirror above the bar. In fact, there was nothing wrong with Alicia’s proposal or they way he had handled it. But it left him uncomfortable. It wasn’t out of the norm for subs to approach him at The Cage or while he was at another dungeon. This wasn’t a dungeon, however. This was his private space, and he didn’t like the thought of Calla naked in his room, waiting to serve her master, while another sub was trying to supplant her. Captain Ron would replace that girl.
He ignored the bar and walked to the windows. Flynn stared out at the changing landscape few who lived in Vancouver would have had a chance to enjoy. He braced his feet as the engines sped up. Flynn had orchestrated his own downfall. In one sense it had been a harrowing experience to let even the small amount of power slip through his fingers to his brother. It wasn’t in his nature to give up control of any kind, but he wasn’t stupid. Divide and conquer.
Flynn forced himself to remain in place, even though his hand was itching to return to his stateroom and pick up his satellite phone. For one, Calla hadn’t had enough time to reconcile her fate to his hand. She wanted it. But she wasn’t a sub who was just going to flop over for his discipline. Calla needed to get into her headspace and work out her issues before she would get back down on her knees again. Flynn needed to watch and wait like the predator inside him.
Right now his brother Arthur was experiencing a mild form of euphoria. The kind that comes when a person accomplishes their greatest wish, their biggest dream realised. It wouldn’t take long for Arthur to understand the strain. The position as CEO of Banroch Industries demanded everything from a person and st
ill people came back for seconds. Flynn acknowledged what his father had recognised before him- such a demanding role would destroy Arthur with dreams in his eyes and his flighty nature.
The sheer weight of responsibility would have crushed his younger brother. Now, Flynn had the job of watching his brother fail. Despite his younger sibling’s thoughts to the contrary, Flynn loved him. Flynn would always remember Arthur as the free spirit of their childhood and wanted to protect that spirit. Flynn only hoped that after all was said and done, as Melanie and her Enbridge pals paid for their crimes, there was enough left of Arthur to salvage.
“Mr Banroch, the captain wanted me to inform you a storm is headed our way.” The first mate entered the lounge and halted near the door. “We may have to put into an inlet to avoid the heart of the storm.” Flynn turned his entire body around to address the crew member.
“Tell Captain Ron I trust his judgement. We are not in a rush and adding an extra day or two to our voyage will not be a problem.” Flynn replied.
“Good. I will let him know.” The first mate turned to leave.
“On another note.” Flynn still had a niggling sense of unease about Alicia. “Can you inform Captain Ron that the new crew member Alicia is not working out? And to send her home once we reach the estate with a full years pay. She can’t complain with that offer.”
“Sir.” The first mate made no further comment as he left.
Chapter Three
Calla wasn’t sure who had won. A knock sounded on the door and she threw on a robe. Opening the door, she discovered that lunch had been delivered and pulled the cart inside, but saw no one else in the hallway. After nibbling a few items on the overloaded tray, Calla hadn’t bothered to take the robe off as she settled on the cushioned window seat with another blanket and studied the rain-swept landscape of the inlet the yacht had drawn anchor in not long after leaving Vancouver harbour behind.
She had waited for Flynn to return, staring out at the lush, soggy landscape, but her master had never made another appearance. His absence was telling. Flynn thought he could play these little mind games with her. That she would sit in the cabin, biting her nails, wondering what she could do to win her master back.
Maybe she had spent part of the time thinking about how she could smooth things over with Flynn. But she had spent more time pondering how their contract would play out. It had felt like a blessing and a curse to get another opportunity to scene with him. A blessing because she naively believed after a scene or two she would realise Flynn was just a dream, a fantasy Dom that had no real substance in the real world.
He had been her first contract master. She had committed their sizzling connection to memory and her first taste of submission. She’d held the hope that whatever brought them so close had burned away long ago. But no such luck. With one intense incendiary kiss, all the feelings Calla had worked months to repress came flooding back. The need inside her to be with Flynn on a physical, emotional and spiritual level had her thighs pressing together and her thoughts scattered. A knock on the door drew her attention. It was close to the supper hour and Calla was required to eat in the main dining area unless otherwise ordered by Flynn.
“Yes.” Calla called out jumping from the window seat, pressing the sides of her robe tighter to her body. She heard a voice on the other side, but could not decipher the words until she unlocked and opened the door. “I’m sorry. You must repeat that.” She stared into the face of a young woman with dark eyes and a profusion of brown hair streaked with gold.
“Mr Banroch had requested you join him and his guest, Mr Chamberlain, for supper this evening in the dining area off the main lounge.” The woman hesitated before adding. “Mr Banroch requested you wear a robe. I can escort you down now if you like?”
“Yes.” Calla glanced behind her at the cabin. Boredom had set in hours ago, but now the empty cabin the safest place on the ship. She steeled her nerves and she pasted a smile on her lips, stepping out of the cabin in bare feet.
“Follow me, Dr Jones.” The crew member looked like she wanted to say something further, but she smiled back before turning around. The thick carpet inside the cabin had kept Calla’s feet warm, but the smooth hallway floor felt cool underfoot. She did her best to keep her thoughts straight and went over the plan she had devised in the cabin.
There was no way Calla would ever change Flynn. Not that she wanted to change him per se. She wanted him to acknowledge he needed her as much as she needed him. To a man like Flynn, even the thought of confessing this level of emotional weakness would be terrifying. Not that he would ever admit to being even slightly frightened. There was too much cave man in him for that. Calla followed the younger woman down a set of stairs and through another corridor before it opened to the larger lounge. She spotted Detective Chamberlain speaking with Flynn in low tones near the huge formal dining table. She forgot about the crew members’ presence and Calla focused all her attention on her master.
Flynn must have noticed her regard because he looked up from his conversation. A slight softening of the muscles around his mouth the only sign he felt anything at her presence.
“Dr Jones. Good to see you this evening.” Flynn held out a hand to her. “Can I get you a drink? Non alcoholic.” Presumptuous man. Calla strode forward. The only reason the drink would be non-alcoholic was because she needed her wits about her with him on a charm offensive. Not because she had any intention of playing with him this evening. Well. Maybe.
“Thank you. Perrier with lemon.” Calla took his hand. He squeezed her fingers before letting go. Her smile was tight as he stepped away to get her water. Calla turned her attention to Chamberlain who was studying them with intent. “Mr Chamberlain. Have you had an enjoyable day?”
“More enjoyable than yours.” Chamberlain commented back. “Have you been trussed up in the stateroom all this time?”
“A good sub never tells.” She did her best to hold in a chuckle. Flynn handed over a fizzing glass with a slice of lemon in it. She waited as the Dom in him assessed her state of undress.
“But you haven’t been a superb sub.” Flynn remarked staring into her eyes.
“I can shed the robe and greet you in formal slave pose. You know nudity doesn’t bother me at all.” Calla held her breath. It wasn’t true. She had performed a couple of scenes at The Cage where she had been naked, but she hadn’t fucked on stage or performed any sexual acts. The Doms she had played with administered her punishment and swept her away into some bone melting aftercare. She had never, not once, walked around the dungeon naked.
“I will not call your bluff, Calla. You can breathe again.” Flynn said, his smile crooked. Bastard.
“No bluff. I want you to see me naked.” Calla taunted him.
“And as your master, I will decide when you get naked, sub. Twenty smacks for trying to top me from the bottom. You’re up to forty all ready for the day. Would you like to keep your smart mouth running and see how many more you can earn?”
“No, Master Flynn.” Calla’s cheeks burned, both sets, as she did her best to keep eye contact with Flynn.
“Good girl. Let’s enjoy a nice meal with our mutual friend, Mr Chamberlain. He has several questions about the lifestyle and I greatly value your opinion.” Flynn rested a hand on the curve of her back. The heat burned through the cloth and Calla wished it would slip to curve around one of her ass cheeks.
“Please ask me all your questions, Mr Chamberlain.” Calla allowed Flynn to steer her towards the elegant table. There were only two places set. One on either side of the table facing each other. One against the wall, the other facing the windows and the view of the rain soaked forest. Flynn chose the seat next to the windows. He pulled it out and sat down, pulling Calla onto his lap.
The bulge in Flynn’s trousers pressed under her ass cheeks she wiggled to get comfortable. A hand on her waist, squeezed hard, and she stopped. Flynn took his time arranging her into a position comfortable for them both. When Calla looked over at th
e detective, his gaze was riveted on them.
“Please bring in the first course.” Flynn spoke to a server standing near the exit. He made no reply as he left to carry out Flynn’s order. “This evening you will eat from my hand. Do you understand, Calla?”
“Yes, Master Flynn.” Calla craned her neck around to stare into his face as she made her answer.
“You will learn to trust your master again.” Flynn waited for her answer. Calla wanted to scream and rail at him, stomp her feet and walk out.
“Yes, Master Flynn.” Calla did her best to keep her tone even. She looked over at Chamberlain. “What would you like to ask me?”
“Nothing specific.” Chamberlain replied and sat back in his chair as a server placed a green salad with large shrimp in front of him. “I suppose at first I thought the whole thing was bullshit.” He picked up a fork and waved it around as the server came over to deliver Flynn’s salad. “An excuse to beat women.” Calla sighed. This was a common misconception about the lifestyle. One perpetuated by the acts of sick individuals like the Reverend. “Now I have a better grasp of the power exchange.”
“Good to see you are doing actual research into the lifestyle.” Flynn commented as a similar plate of salad and prawns appeared before them on the table. “The power exchange is beautiful in its complexity and elegant in its simplicity.” Calla shifted on Flynn’s lap as he took up a fork and speared a shrimp. He lifted the offering to Calla’s lips, and she opened her mouth to receive his nourishment.
The prawn was cooked to perfection. Calla took her time to enjoy the succulent morsel as she listened to Flynn continue his conversation with Chamberlain. Now was the perfect opportunity to gain insights into what Flynn believed of the power exchange. The information would be invaluable in their continued struggle.
“For example, Calla trusts me to feed her from my hand because one, I know she’s not allergic to shellfish and two, I have observed what she likes and does not like to eat. All of this information is important when coming to understand your sub.” Flynn speared another shrimp and fed it to Calla. “If she thought I was trying to poison her or trick her into eating something she didn’t like. The whole point of the exercise would be lost.”