by Jaye Peaches
In Gemma’s presence, the crew spoke English, but behind the closed doors of the lower deck, where the crew congregated, she suspected everyone spoke Spanish.
“Señora?” Enrique appeared in the galley. “Señor Lucas has asked to see you. Straight away.” He stared directly at Gemma, his intense gaze unnerving her.
For a brief moment, she paused. She didn’t like Enrique summoning her as if she were at his beck and call. He was the messenger, but his tone hadn’t been deferential enough, especially in the presence of the crew. The awkwardness of the bizarre hierarchy was kicking in. She wanted guarantees from Jason that Enrique wasn’t anything but a crew member with regard to her.
***
“Where have you been?” Jason snapped as Gemma entered his office.
“The galley. Adding a few items to the breakfast menu. Your favourites,” she gritted out.
“Stay away from the lower deck. Fraternizing with the crew is unnecessary. There is nothing on that deck for us except the heated pool and water-sports gear. Understood?”
“I understand,” she replied cautiously.
“Over here at my feet.” He snapped his fingers.
She hesitated, making the most of what was possible within the limits of what he would tolerate. She knelt at his feet, taking her time to place her hands in position.
“When we are on this deck, I shouldn’t have to ask, should I?” His hackles rose at her sulkiness.
“No. Sir.” Petulant tone.
“Right. Tell me what is pissing you off before you piss me off even further. I’ve spent an hour trying to get my computer to bloody work, and you are adding to my displeasure rapidly.” Jason slammed the laptop lid down.
“Nothing, only….” Gemma slid down a slippery slope into the bottomless pit of her own making. “I didn’t like the way Enrique spoke to me.”
“What do you mean? Did he call you by your first name?” Jason frowned.
“No.”
“Well?” He contemplated taking Gemma over his knee; his palm itched to spank her and end her stroppy manners.
“The way he spoke to me felt like a command, not a request. That’s all.”
“You’re being oversensitive, Gemma. Childish. Like you were in the car. Do you want another punishment?” He considered the necessity to make her snap out of grouchiness.
“No, of course not,” she sighed.
“Since you’re acting like a child, I’ll treat you like one. Go stand in the corner. Arms boxed behind you. Don’t move.”
She folded her arms behind her, elbows bent and hands cupping the joints. Every movement deliberate and laboured. Jason needed considerable self-control to keep his hands to himself, and with a wry smile, he realised a response was entirely what she wanted. If he touched her, even to punish her, she would have his attention. Worse, he might be tempted fuck her or use her in a sensual way. She didn’t mind whether he gave pain or pleasure. She was busting a gut to have him all over her.
My insatiable, greedy little sub!
Jason cupped his hands around the back of his head and tilted the chair back. A comfortable seat, but he anticipated he would have to a work for lengthy periods while his wife sunbathed or enjoyed the scenery. She could stew in her juices, literally, and wait.
“Tomorrow, you can enjoy a nice massage with Maria. I hope that will put you in a better frame of mind. You will also be waxed and shaved daily, and Maria will give you a massage every day. Oh, you can start the vacation by having an enema, too.”
Her body tensed at the request.
“I want you ready for me, at all times, whether I’m in the mood or not.” Even from the distance of his desk, Jason could see the signs of defiant rigidity, her shoulders squared and her fingers clenched.
“My stipulation is to be obeyed. In fact, I shall come and witness your treatment. Make sure it is carried out correctly and appropriately. I want you thoroughly cleaned out. Who knows what I might decide to stick up your bum. There are probably lots of things lying about on this vessel that could be accommodated by your luscious arsehole,” he tormented her. “Perhaps I can ask the crew, a competition to find the most interesting item to stuff you with. Keep them entertained.”
In a moment of absent-mindedness, Gemma kicked the wall. He shot across the room. Spinning her around to face him, he pinned her wrists above her head and loomed over her.
“You agreed, did you not, on the jet?”
She couldn’t escape his grasp nor breathe naturally. She stared up into his blue eyes. Captured in the corner of the room, she waited for him to answer his own rhetorical question.
“A sex slave, not just a little subbie, but my own private slut to enjoy. You’ve practically begged for it ever since I told you we were going away for three weeks. Three weeks—I don’t think you appreciate what it means, do you?” He kept his tone level.
She shook her head. Gemma could have no idea what the cruise would entail since Jason had kept his holiday plans close to his chest.
He managed to rip off a button on her shorts as he yanked them down, dragging her knickers down, too. One of his hands took Gemma under the chin, tilting her head backwards. He plunged two fingers of the other deep inside her drenched hole. Forcing his hand up until he came close to fisting her, he held her there briefly while she melted about him, glazed eyes half-closed. Withdrawing his fingers, he let her lick them clean of her copious juices with long lashes of her tongue.
“You will wait, my impatient whore. I’ve no intention of fucking your ravenous cunt today. You will demonstrate how appreciative you are of me first. I’m fed up with your attitude, wanting me, and doing everything you can to entice me. I decide, you slut. These fuckholes will be used when I wish, when I want them, as befits their owner,” he hissed at her. “If you chose to come, you’d best show your gratitude. What do you have to say to me?”
At his brutal words, her legs squeezed tightly together. Her neck flushed pink in a rush of heart-thumping blood, and her breathing remained rapid. He summoned her submissive nature to the surface, retrieved from where she hid it during the normality of their daily lives.
“Oh, please. I need it, you know I do,” said Gemma with surprising clarity. “It’s not the sex I crave. Give me your dominance; make me feel it my bones. I can’t get there without you. I’m sorry. Feed me, Master, and I will give you my submission—”
“Hush, you silly thing.” He smiled into her sparkling green eyes. Gemma responded with a slight upward curvature of her lips. It was game they played, the opening flourish of a well-practised dance. The steps of their particular dance would last three weeks, and then they would withdraw, returning to their usual routines.
Her quivering lips had a magnetic pull. He grabbed at them with his own parted ones and enjoyed, for a few brief seconds, an interlude. Curling his tongue around her mouth, he toyed with her, pressing his body hard into her own, making her feel the electricity coursing through him. His loins ached to be released, to thrust deep inside her wetness—it was there below, along with the stiff nipples and tingling clitoris. Jason was vastly familiar with his wife’s body, her nuances and sensual switches. The pause in the proceedings wouldn’t last. Jason wasn’t seeking the kind of eroticism based on romance.
Breaking off, he nodded into her imploring eyes. “So be it. What you need, you’ll get.”
Hands about her neck, he pushed her down to her knees. Jason reached down into his pants and took out his stiffened cock. Watching her pout and flounce about in her corner had given his sex drive motivation, and he could no longer contain his urges. She would be used and reminded he was the one to be obeyed, served, pleasured, and nothing mattered beyond his needs.
Gemma opened her mouth with the willingness he expected from her. She understood he would never harm her. As her Dominant, Jason respected her trust in him as he respected her submission.
She sucked hard on him, trying to make him come, but he wasn’t going to let her off easily. Each time hi
s orgasm neared, he withdrew and took a deep breath, relaxed his stance, and plunged into her mouth until the sensation returned. The minutes ticked by, and her jaw must have ached, and her eyes watered. Her shorts and knickers remained trapped about her ankles. A pathetic sight of dishevelment.
Her wavy hair bunched in his hands, Jason watched the tension in her shoulders slip away. She relinquished, neither fighting him nor resisting him—her focus shifting to pleasing him. After each of her deep breaths, she willingly lowered her mouth onto him and used her tongue around his balls, flicking and teasing with the delicate tip. Eventually, Gemma gazed up at his face and, fluttering her eyelashes, implored him for release. For a tender moment, Jason saw reflected in her pupils his own body, bearing down on her, as she sought his forgiveness with her eyes.
Coming down from his ferocious need to exert his control and willpower over her, Jason let her take him at her own pace and released her hair. Gradually, she reached a rhythm, and he moaned.
“Good girl,” he said.
His words triggered a rise in her natural instinct to submit. With her submission came her intense libido and sexual desires. Gemma gave to him and took back herself. Jason watched her shake as she supressed her orgasm. She had dug down deep to put him first and keep her own lust on hold. Her surrender was deeply gratifying to behold.
When Jason started to build to a climax, he let himself complete, spurting his thick milk down her throat as she swallowed eagerly. She cleaned him with her tongue before he re-arranged his clothing and returned to his seat.
Gemma remained as he had left her, semi-naked, face atrociously covered in drool, and eyes watering. A humiliated pose essential to her submission.
“Tidy yourself. Stay on your knees.”
She managed to pull up her knickers and shorts. With the button gone, she relied on the zipper to keep them around her waist. He threw a tissue box to her, and she wiped her face. Mascara smeared across her cheeks, giving her a forlorn expression.
Jason sighed, cocking his head to one side. The need to hold and embrace her grew, yet he held it at bay. For the moment, he wanted her to feel his dominance, his control, and nothing else. Later, he would offer his affections. “I will speak to Enrique, remind him when other crew members are present, he is to be polite and courteous in his tone.”
Gemma let out a small sob of relief. “Thank you,” she murmured.
“We always seemed to begin our holidays like this, don’t we? Me fucking you into submission. If this is what it takes for you to find yourself, then so be it. We will dine out, and you will be the perfect companion for me. Contrite, loving, and devoted.”
“I will be. You know I will,” Gemma said, the strength in her voice returning.
Jason lifted the laptop lid again. Work beckoned, his constant, undesired distraction.
“Go and clean yourself up. Make me proud. We leave at eight-thirty for dinner.”
***
Humiliated, degraded, and used, Gemma hobbled out, clutching her pants.
The moment before she’d kicked the wall, her stomach muscles had been constricted as if she had cramps. The massage had sounded indulgent and pleasant, the shaving tolerable, the waxing, she would grin and bear, if he wanted it. Nose facing the wall, Gemma had fumed. There wasn’t any chance of him carrying out the threat of the crew hunting for humiliating objects with which to degrade her. Unfortunately, having Jason witness an enema was a genuine threat. Gemma had wanted to have sex and nothing else. Her careless attempt at asking had misfired. With him on his throne and screwing with her mind, she had been at his mercy. He had milked her predicament royally.
She staggered to her personal bathroom and turned the taps on for a bath. “Señora?” said Maria quietly.
Gemma jumped. “I didn’t hear you approach.”
“Sorry, señora. Please, let me take care of you. I’m here to serve you.”
Maria touched her arm. She flinched and turned to see Maria’s face. A genuine, caring face.
“I know, señora, what these men do. I know we want to please them, but sometimes it is hard. To be everything they want us to be. He will show his love, but you must be patient for him.”
The older woman took her in her arms and held her gently until the tears dried up. Maria undressed her, helped her into the bath, and poured oils into the water. Satisfied Gemma was relaxed and comfortable, the maid waited. Gemma could guess at Jason’s instructions to Maria: befriend her mistress, keep her calm and ready. Ready for him.
Gemma underwent a remarkable transformation. With Maria’s help, she put on one of her sleek cocktail dresses, applied make-up, and styled her hair into a bun. By eight-thirty, she decided she looked stunning, quite recovered from her earlier visual breakdown. The soothing bath had steadied her nerves and the aromatic oils cleared her nostrils. Jason would be proud of her tonight. She intended to make every effort to impress him, to be the prize every man would want on his arm. Starved of sex, she might as well look sexy. She risked irking Jason, but if he wanted the beautiful wife, he would have to tolerate other men staring at her.
Despite her comments in the car about Maria, Jason had been completely right. The woman was keen to please her and certainly had been attentive. Well-trained in servitude, Maria never offered Gemma anything she didn’t ask for. Her brush, her towel, whatever she wanted to hand, appeared within reach.
***
Jason changed into a casual suit of beige silk and went in search of his wife. She remained, as he had instructed, seated in the stateroom, admiring the brightening lights of the marina. The lanterns dangling from the masts of the sailboats, the illuminations for the decks of the other yachts. The moment he entered the room, she slipped down onto her knees. Her posture, this time, perfect. He stood over her and brushed a hand against her head.
“Stand up. Let me look at you.”
She did, with considerable grace.
“Beautiful. You are gorgeous, babe. You’re going to make me proud tonight. Time to leave. Do you have a wrap? The air will be cold later, and we’re eating al fresco.”
They dined at a restaurant high in the hills, overlooking the coast. Gemma perched on her seat and gazed about her with her newfound tranquillity. They ate their courses unrushed and, by midnight, they still had dessert to go. A soprano opera singer appeared and impressed them with her exquisite arias. One o’clock came, another hour passed.
After an awkward journey in the car on the way to the restaurant and a subdued entrée course, Gemma engaged Jason in conversation, asking about yacht building, and this led to a safe place for them to converse.
Jason had succumbed to his yacht’s charms years ago when he used to charter it fresh out of the builder’s dockyard. The layout of the vessel, the number of crew required to sail her, and the speed it could travel across the seas were all things he had become keenly acquainted with over the years.
Eventually, when his income skyrocketed to multimillionaire levels, he had purchased the luxury cruiser and chartered it back out to make money. His use of the yacht had declined when his hedonistic days mellowed and he had re-doubled his efforts on the work front.
Plenty of other diners lingered to chat and laugh together, but Jason signalled for the bill. Returning to the yacht, he allowed her to snuggle up against him in bed and listen to his beating heart. She appeared content and undemanding of his attentions.
Chapter 5. Aftercare
Day Two
As Gemma and Jason leant against the railings at the stern of the yacht, crowds gathered on the dock to watch their imminent departure from the marina.
Rising at a respectable time, Jason had done his obligatory workout in the gym. The crew had moved about him as he strolled about his yacht cooling down, wiping the droplets of perspiration from his face with a sweat towel. He’d said nothing in greeting. Most of the crew were new to him although he’d known Esteban and McKenzie since his first cruise on Sublime. They’d kept their mouths shut over many voyages,
having signed the required non-disclosure agreement, an obligation required of all of the crew.
Esteban, the medic, had been briefed on Jason’s lifestyle preferences on the first voyage many years previously. He had raised his eyebrows at the scant description and shrugged his shoulders with indifference. The girls Jason had brought with him on those earlier cruises had been friendly, pretty, and, for the most part, invisible. What Esteban couldn’t see, he couldn’t judge.
As the ultimate authority at sea, the captain had also been informed. McKenzie, an ex-Royal Navy officer, had seen a great deal of the world on his travels, including some of the more unsavoury ports. His career in the Navy had ended abruptly when it became apparent he could no longer keep his love life secret. He’d missed his boyfriend, who was a Spaniard he’d met while stationed at Gibraltar.
Having left the Navy, McKenzie had earned a commission to work on chartered yachts and had been able to see his lover regularly. When Jason requested McKenzie as his captain, the Scot had jumped at the chance. McKenzie, upon their first meeting, had told Jason he wasn’t going to deny any man his sexual desires. Mark McKenzie had been a victim of misunderstandings before, according to the security briefing he had commissioned before hiring the officer.
Returning to the stateroom after his spell in the gym, Jason found Gemma waiting for him on the sundeck, fresh from her shower, her damp hair glistening in the sunlight. Between them, they said little. The frosty coating on their relationship remained intact. A suitable point in time would arise when he would bring her to heel and test her submission again.
Ted, the boson, delivered the obligatory safety talk. The evacuation drill, the location of life vests and lifeboats. The contents of the survival kit explained, then how to use a flare and what happened if any unfortunate person happened to fall overboard.
Leaving the marina, the yacht slowly manoeuvred between other boats and the jetties. Gemma, leaning forward, watched the propeller churn the water into a foam. The crowd waved at the crew, and Gemma, caught up in the moment, waved back. Jason stood unmoved, his hands resting on the rails, eyes shaded with reflective sunglasses. A baseball hat covered his face from the sun and kept his features tucked away out of public view. Unlike Jason, his wife lapped up the attention of the crowds and the excitement of harbour life.