Harper's Submission [Golden Dolphin 2] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Skye Michaels

  Everyone in the audience was paying rapt attention to the Master and subs and took no notice of him at all. Harmon couldn’t believe his luck as he continued to snap pictures. Maurie Cullen, his editor, was not going to believe this. He would go through the pictures later in the storage room. He would have to see which ones he would eventually e-mail to Maurie to whet his appetite. He wasn’t going to send off anything right away. He wanted to see what else he could find out and maybe who else he could get pictures of. Hell, it would be great if he could get pictures of Morgan Court and Harper Cameron. That would be outstanding. That damn Court was so secretive, almost no pictures of him existed at all, and Cameron and her wardrobe had been the darling of the New York press during that entire trial. He had to play this right and make the most of this opportunity. It wouldn’t do to put all his eggs in one basket. He might be able to sell some of these pictures to another paper, gossip rag, or Internet site.

  The Master circled the immobilized subs while carefully checking their bindings. Then he went to a cabinet in the corner and took some items from a drawer. When he came back to the subs, he fastened nipple clamps on first one naked girl and then the other. They gasped as the tight clips pinched their nipples. He lightly stroked their breasts until they each looked more comfortable. They were both starting to look excited as they followed each movement made by the Master with hungry eyes. The Master explained the proper application of nipple clamps to the audience and showed how to tighten them and then loosen them just a bit until they were tight but not too painful. Their nipples were hard little buds, rosy with excitement, topping tempting mounds of flesh. Harmon was definitely on the edge here. He now had a boner of huge proportions. Wow. This is amazing. He had enjoyed his share of porn magazines, but he had certainly never seen this stuff in the raw before.

  The Master demonstrated the restraints on the spanking bench, the proper use of a spreader bar, and various other pieces of equipment. Finally he walked over to the St. Andrew’s Cross against the back wall. He demonstrated the mechanism that controlled the hydraulic step that raised the occupant to just the right height. The right height for what? Fucking?

  “I’m not going to be using the cross tonight since I have two subs to discipline. Subs, are you ready for your punishment?” Harmon watched as both subs looked at the Master with both longing and fear. The subs seemed to be quivering with anticipation. The Master picked up a short but efficient-looking riding crop and administered three sharp swats to each of their round butts. Harmon was disappointed that the swats hadn’t been very hard, but they did make a satisfying thwack. The Master moved in closer, and Harmon couldn’t see what he was doing with his hands between the legs of first one sub and then the other, but he could guess. He kissed each one hard and quickly massaged their breasts. They cried out in what appeared to be ecstasy. He could see the wet cunts between their spread legs. Harmon thought he might pass out. What he wouldn’t give to get a piece of that action.

  The Master, with the help of one of the female stewards, released both women, wrapped them in blankets, and put them on one of the sofas, while the Russian woman ushered the passengers out the room. Shit, he had seen that Russian woman around the ship a couple of times. I’d sure like to get my hands on that one. What a body. Harmon couldn’t believe the Master had brought two women to orgasms with so little effort on his part. Hot damn. He just might blow his load right here if he wasn’t careful. Now he had to move out of the room with the crowd and get back to the storeroom without being discovered. He tried to shield his face without being obvious and tried to stay close to the group in front of him as they made their way out to the passageway.

  When Harmon was back in the storage room, he quickly scanned through the pictures on his cell phone. He couldn’t believe the gold mine on his phone. Too bad he couldn’t have used his digital camera and lens, but that would be far too dangerous in the close confines of the dungeon room. Nevertheless, he was thrilled with what he had gotten so far. Now that he knew the score and what was going on, he couldn’t wait to see what else he could get. He probably should take these pictures and run at the first opportunity, but he just couldn’t pass up the chance for an even bigger score. The mother lode was waiting for him in Court’s suite. He just knew it, and he wasn’t leaving without it.

  Chapter Twelve

  Bar Harbor, Bar Harbor, Maine, on board the Golden Dolphin, November 13, 2013—Wednesday Morning, Day Four of the Cruise

  Harper and Morgan woke early and went out to the main deck to watch for whales as the ship approached Bar Harbor and prepared to anchor in deep water. While they were having early coffee on the deck and waiting for breakfast, Harper had been thrilled to see a pod of pilot whales off the starboard side. She counted three of the black whales that were members of the dolphin family. The largest looked to be about twenty feet long. Harper couldn’t stay in her chair, and she leaned over the railing so far that Morgan had put his hands around her waist to anchor her on the deck.

  “Babe, I’d hate to see you end up in the water. I think they mostly eat squid and octopus, but you might be a tempting morsel nonetheless.”

  “Yikes! You’re right. I just got so excited. I’ve been looking forward to seeing whales. That’s the highlight of the trip for me.”

  “Well, we could take a whale-watching cruise instead of sightseeing ashore if you would like that. We’re not pulling out until three o’clock.”

  “That would be fabulous. I’ll call the purser and see if they can book something for us.”

  Harper and Morgan took the tender to the dock and boarded the Kathi B whale-watching boat. It was a beautiful, sunny morning on the bay. As the boat made for open water, Harper enjoyed the white harbor seals and porpoises. They were about twenty miles out to sea in the Gulf of Maine when they entered the whale feeding grounds, and they saw their first humpback whale and heard it clearing its blow hole. The naturalist guide told the passengers that it was a female of about forty-five feet, and weighing approximately thirty tons. By identifying her unique dorsal fin and fluke pattern against the Humpback Whale Registry, he was able to tell them her registry number, history of sightings, physical markings and injuries, who her regular companions were, and that she had been seen with a calf in 2008. She was heading south to warmer waters for the winter.

  Harper was thrilled just to watch her blow and flip her tail, but when she breached, Harper squealed with delight. When the whale approached the boat, Morgan, who was standing behind Harper, wrapped his arms securely around her waist and rested his chin on top of her head. Apparently he didn’t trust her not to get too excited and lean over the rail. She rested back against his chest and just enjoyed his warmth. The temperature out on the open water was a good fifteen degrees colder than it had been closer to shore.

  “Oh, Morgan. She’s so beautiful. I wish we could see a calf. Wouldn’t that be something?”

  “Keep your eyes open, babe. You never know.” He pulled the hood of her jacket over her head and snuggled her closer.

  She felt the hard ridge of his erection against her back and surreptitiously wiggled her butt against him. “Hey, sailor! Is that a banana in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?”

  He squeezed her tight and, laughing, said, “Watch it, Harper. A disrespectful attitude could get you into trouble with your Master.”

  “No way. I don’t have a Master. I’m a Domme.”

  “We need to talk about that. I want you to think about letting me take charge. I know we have been doing pretty well in bed, but your issues have not magically disappeared. You promised to think about it. Can I reserve a theme room for us tonight?” He continued to hold her tightly.

  “I have thought about it, Morgan. I’m still a little nervous…but I guess I want to try. You seem to already know me so well, and I know that I trust you completely.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Bar Harbor, Bar Harbor, Maine, on board the Golden Dolphin, November 13, 2013—Wednesday Evening, Da
y Four of the Cruise

  Morgan had attempted to reserve a theme room for that evening, but unfortunately, by the time he had made the call, all of the rooms had been booked.

  “Babe, how would you feel about doing our first scene in the dungeon? All the theme rooms are taken, and I really don’t want to wait until tomorrow. The sooner we start this process, the better.”

  “I don’t know, Morgan. For our first scene I’d feel more comfortable with some privacy.” He knew his face was giving away his disappointment, and he quickly pasted on a bland expression. He could tell she saw right through him as she continued. “Okay, Morgan. I’m willing to try it in the dungeon. Hopefully there won’t be a lot of people in there tonight. If I freak, promise we’ll stop and try again tomorrow, okay?” She looked very nervous to him, and he wished he could reassure her. He knew, however, that this scene promised to be a very emotional and possibly trying experience for her. He planned to take her back through what he was sure would be some uncomfortable memories. They needed to be brought out into the light of day, or more accurately, the dark of the dungeon.

  “Absolutely, Harper. You know I’ll want to push you, but you’ll have your safe word.”

  * * * *

  Harper was nervous but strangely excited as well. She knew this could either be very good for her, or a complete disaster, and she had no clue which it would be. Her years of therapy had obviously not solved her problems. Maybe it was time to try a different, if somewhat unorthodox, route. They had finished dinner while the ship was making way out into international waters toward Halifax, Canada. They had agreed to meet in the dungeon after each going back to their suites to change clothes. Harper knew that Morgan always wore a mask at Le Club Eastside and wondered whether he would do so aboard the Golden Dolphin. It would add a certain edge, however, and she hoped he would. That mask had featured in a few of her fantasies.

  When Harper walked through the double doors of the dungeon, she immediately saw Morgan waiting for her. He wore the black leather pants and high boots that highlighted his spectacular body and prominent package. She was able to catch glimpses of his gorgeous muscled chest and six-pack abs under the open vest. She was not disappointed to see he also wore the mask she had seen before in New York. He was an imposing sight—not a Dom to be trifled with. A shiver of excitement skittered up her spine and down again to tickle her lady parts. She really didn’t know how to proceed. Although she was versed in D/s protocol from the Domme’s side of the procedure, she wasn’t sure how to begin as a sub.

  Morgan walked up to her, put his hand on the small of her back, and propelled her toward a back corner of the room near the St. Andrew’s Cross. It was secluded and fairly private, and she knew she would be more comfortable there than under the blinding spotlight in the center of the room. “Thank you, Morgan, for considering my privacy.”

  “Sub, did I give you permission to speak?”

  His low voice sent a spear of anxiety directly to her pussy. Here we go. This is it. I hope I can handle it. “I beg your pardon, Sir.”

  “Silence. One more breach of protocol, and you will earn a punishment. I will let you know when I want to hear your voice, sub. I know you are used to being the Domme, but now you are my sub, and I will control the situation.”

  His black eyes shone out of the mask, and she quailed for a moment as fear bubbled up from her belly. She quashed it. He was already attempting to assert his dominion over her. His Dom aura was intimidating, but she was not really afraid of him. She was determined to give this a real try. It was too important to her future with Morgan, or any other man for that matter, to give it less than her all. When did I decide I want a future with Morgan? That thought must have been lurking in the back of her head for some time now. She had just not acknowledged it to herself. She knew in her heart that Morgan had the potential to be everything to her, and she wanted the chance to make it work.

  “Strip and assume the position.” He directed her toward the floor in front of the cross. She slipped out of the short, black latex dress with the crisscross straps across the chest and back, hung it in the armoire near the door, and knelt in front of him with her knees spread and her hands resting on top of her thighs. She forgot to lower her eyes, and he reached down and swatted her butt. “Eyes, sub.”

  The swat was sharp, and she involuntarily yelped. “Ouch, that stung!” She hadn’t meant to let the exclamation slip out, and she looked up at him in horror. He reached down and delivered another smarting smack on her bare butt, his stern expression daring her to say something else. She quickly lowered her eyes. She knew she would have corrected a sub of her own, but she was still a little shocked at the swiftness of his retribution. This is serious. I’d better pay attention.

  He looked down at her. His anger was immediate but fleeting, and she could tell by his expression that his displeasure had already passed. “On the step of the Cross, sub.” She rose, not quite as gracefully as she would have liked, went over to the cross, and mounted the hydraulic step. He came up close behind her. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck. He ran his hands up each of her arms, competently fastened the cuffs, and carefully checked that they did not chafe her skin and weren’t too tight. He then repeated the procedure with the ankle cuffs before he adjusted the height of the step. She felt very vulnerable and more than a little embarrassed. Here she was, buck-naked in front of strangers, and she wasn’t comfortable with it. That’s why I’m a Domme, damn it. Thank goodness no one seemed to be paying too much attention to them—except for that crewman in the back corner. If he started to salivate, she was going to call this off. What was his problem? Surely he had seen his share of scenes on board. The BDSM theme was the purpose of the cruise after all.

  Morgan ran his hands up and down her back and over her butt, massaging the tight muscles until she began to relax under his touch. His big, strong, warm hands felt wonderful on her skin. He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Relax, sub. Put yourself in my hands. I’ll take care of you. Your pleasure and pain are mine to give, and your mind is mine to know.”

  She didn’t know if she should respond or not. He might just be talking to relax her, and not be requiring a response. She decided to err on the side of caution and keep quiet.

  “See, sub? You’re learning. I will ask for a response when I want you to talk.”

  Whew! Thank goodness I kept my mouth shut. She had to be on top of her game here. With her butt in such a tempting position, she would rather not incur her Master’s wrath. My Master? Oh, no. He hasn’t earned that yet.

  * * * *

  Morgan took a deep breath. He hoped he was doing the right thing. He didn’t want to make Harper’s problems worse by making her relive them, but if there was a possibility to help her heal, he wanted to do all he could. He already knew that she was going to be very important to him. Maybe the most important. It was too soon to tell. They had already made some progress in bed, but he knew her problems ran deeper than could be solved by a little fuck therapy. If she would let him shoulder the burden, even for the length of a scene, maybe she could begin to dig out from under the emotional pain, so that she would be able to see a break in the clouds. He hated to think of what she had suffered for so long—the violation and betrayal, the insecurities, and the lost opportunities for meaningful relationships, both in the BDSM world and the vanilla world. It was all very sad, and the blame should be laid where it belonged—on her abusers, not the slender shoulders of a vulnerable girl. He knew it was too late to punish them now, although he wished he could.

  He moved in very close to her ear and said very quietly, “Okay, sub. You are going to tell your Master what happened to you when you were little that has made you so distrustful of people. I want to know all the details.”

  “No, Morgan. I can’t talk about it, especially not here.”

  “Sub, we are in a scene. You will call me Sir or Master. You agreed to participate in this exercise. Are you disobeying your Master? I’ll give y
ou one more chance to obey. No one can hear you but me.”

  “No, uh, Mor…Master. I’m not disobeying. I just can’t talk about it.”

  Morgan moved in to stand right behind her. He knew she could feel his heat against her bare skin. He whispered, “Tell me, Harper. Just me. Trust me. You’ll feel better if you unload this emotional burden.”

  “I can’t.”

  He watched her shudder, and it broke his heart. He knew he would have to push her, maybe make her cry, before she would let go. He wanted to break down the wall around her emotions. “Your disobedience is going to earn you a punishment, Harper. Try harder.”

  “I won’t talk about it, Master.”

  “Can’t and won’t are two different things. ‘Won’t’ will earn you a punishment. Do you want to reconsider?”

  When she said nothing further, he brought his hand down hard on her bare bottom, and she gasped. He knew it stung, but was nothing compared to a paddle or cane. He hoped he wouldn’t have to go that far to get the release he was looking for. He didn’t know if he could do that to her, even for her own good. When she still did not respond, he smacked her butt again twice.

  “Are you going to make me do this the hard way, or are you going to start talking?” It took several more hard slaps before he saw the tears start to slide down her cheeks, and her lips begin to quiver. “What happened, Harper? Talk to me.” Silence. Two more hard smacks. “Don’t make me get out my belt, Harper.”