Starboard (Anchored Book 1)

by Sophie Stern

  “Trust me,” June says. “I’m happiest behind the bar. It’s where I’m most comfortable.”

  “Suit yourself,” I say. I hold up my glass. “Thanks for the drink. Here’s to you.”

  “To June,” Tony echoes, and we both sip our whiskeys. I take in the rest of the room, looking at the scenes that are within view. There’s a rope play scene happening pretty closely, but I’ve never been terribly interested in that.

  “What do you want to watch tonight?” I ask Tony. I’m starting to feel a little buzzed and I wouldn’t mind getting out of the bar area and exploring a little bit.

  “Why don’t we check out the voyeurism rooms?”

  “Lead the way, good fellow.”

  We chug the rest of our drinks quickly, which probably isn’t a good idea, and then we head across the room. Tony leads me to an area where there are several doors.

  “Those are the private rooms,” he says. There’s a dungeon monitor standing by the doors. “And that’s the guy who makes sure only people who are allowed to be there are there.”

  I nod to the monitor as we walk by. Once again, I’m wearing a bracelet that lets the world know I’m drinking tonight: not playing. Still, it’s nice that in spite of the alcohol, we can watch the fun. We walk over to a hallway and head down it. There are windows and doors on either side.

  “These are the voyeur rooms,” he says. “Let’s see what’s happening tonight.” The hallway already has several people watching different scenes in the rooms. The doors are all closed, and presumably locked, so the couples inside can have the illusion of privacy. Of course, all of the windows are wide open, so the privacy is very, very limited.

  We walk down the hall, glancing in the different rooms. The first one has a submissive in a sexy sailor costume. It’s appropriate in keeping with the theme of the club. Anchored is all about nautical things, after all.

  I wonder what sparked the owner’s interest in oceans and ships and adventures. Who the hell converts a cruise ship into a sex club? I mean, it works, but it’s really not something most people would think of doing.

  I certainly never would.

  Most sex clubs are either in the warehouse district or hosted in private homes. I’ve never been to one on the water. I’ve never been to one that’s as nice, as private, or as interesting as Anchored.

  I understand the owner needs his privacy, but damn, I wish Tony would talk about the guy. I imagine he must have been a sailor in the navy or perhaps he was raised on stories of pirates and lore. I’m not sure. Either way, I’m enjoying my time at Anchored, and I’m very much enjoying the view of the little sailor submissive.

  She’s kneeling on the floor with her arms tied behind her back. Her Dom is in full fetwear: leathers and a vest. He’s wearing boots, and when he steps in front of her, she leans down and kisses them.

  She doesn’t look disturbed by this.

  In fact, when she looks up at him, her eyes spark with passion and excitement.

  She’s looking forward to the way they’re going to play.

  She wants to please him, and judging by the way he’s looking down at her, he’s going to please her, too. Tony and I watch for a few minutes as the Dom pulls her breasts out of the tiny top. He attaches nipple clamps, and then he kisses her and pulls her to her feet.

  I’m getting hard watching the scene, which isn’t embarrassing. Not her. At Anchored, I think every male is walking around with a continuous hard-on. It’s part of the fun.

  The Dom bends his sub over the bed and kneels behind her. She’s leaning forward over the bed her breasts shake and bounce as he kisses her thighs. He flips up her skirt, giving the people watching a lovely view of her ass and shaved pussy.

  Then he licks her, and she starts to groan.

  Tony and I watch the scene play out. We’re both quiet, caught up in our own thoughts as we watch. I’m guessing it’s not this couple’s first time playing together. It can’t be. They work far too well together. They complement each other perfectly.

  By the time the scene finishes, I’m anxious and horny, but I’m not ready to go home and jerk off alone. I want to see another scene. I want to see more of what happens at Anchored.

  “Let’s see what else is going on,” I say to Tony, and he nods. We walk past two other rooms where various things are happening, but at the third room, I stop.

  “It’s the girl from the other night,” Tony points out the obvious. It’s the brunette. It’s Christina.

  She’s scening with a different person tonight. It’s not the tall, beautiful Dominatrix she was with last week. That’s not unusual. A lot of people enjoy mixing things up and playing with different partners. Tonight, Christina is playing with a Dom who is about her height. He’s thin and lanky. There’s no way he could physically restrain her, but then, tonight doesn’t seem to be about that.

  No, for the couple, tonight seems to be about seeing how well she can follow orders and whether she’ll be rewarded or punished. They’re already halfway through the scene when we arrive, and we watch as he has her kneel and stand and kneel again. She seems tired, and maybe a little bored, but she obeys him over and over again.

  “Wow,” Tony mutters. “Where’d she find this guy? They have no chemistry. At all.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  When she gets a movement right, the man rewards her with a kiss. When she gets one wrong, he bites her. She doesn’t seem to enjoy that. The tension builds, but nothing really happens.

  “He’s not even trying to make her come,” I have to say it. A man beside me murmurs in agreement.

  “What the hell is he doing?” A submissive beside Tony speaks up. “She’s bored out of her mind. She should safeword and leave.”

  We watch for a few more minutes and then it seems that Christina does just that. I see her struggling for a minute, breathing in and out. She closes her eyes and clenches and unclenches her fists, and then she whispers a word I can’t hear, but that her Dom clearly can.

  He glares at her.

  The guy fucking glares at her.

  “Holy dragons,” the submissive next to Tony speaks up. “Somebody get a dungeon monitor right now.”

  Tony takes off for the end of the hallway. He doesn’t have to be told twice. I try the handle to the door, but it’s locked. I knock on the door loudly, but the Dom ignores us and starts yelling at Christina. By the time the dungeon monitor arrives, she’s crying and trying to get out of her wrist cuffs, but he’s not helping her.

  The monitor unlocks the door, steps inside, and grabs the Dom.

  “Hey, we aren’t finished in here,” the Dom says.

  “You’re done,” the monitor says. “And unless you want me to file sexual harassment charges for ignoring her safeword, you’ll come with me to the office right now. The owner wants a word with you.”

  “Fuck,” the guy grumbles, grabbing his bag. He doesn’t spare Christina a second look. He just walks out of the room.

  “Hey,” I step into the room and kneel in front of her. She’s crying loudly now. She might not have had a lot of fun, but she needs someone to take care of her. I might not be allowed to play tonight, but I can administer aftercare for this little sub. “Let me help you.”

  She’s silent as I take her cuffs off and then she gets silently to her feet.

  “Thank you,” she whispers, and she turns to leave.

  “Christina,” I say, stopping her.

  “How do you know my name?”

  “Your Domme last week told me.”

  “Oh,” she whispers, blushing.

  “Can I please take care of you for a little while?” I ask.

  “No,” she says.

  “Do you have someone who can sit with you? Get you a drink? Hold you if you need it?”

  “No,” she shakes her head. “I don’t do aftercare, dude.” Then she pushes past Tony and the other people in the hallway and walks away.

  “What the hell?” I can’t help but say it out loud. />
  “The Damsel of the Dungeon has emotional issues,” one of the nearby Doms tells me in a quiet whisper. “She’s sweet, lovely to play with, a willing participant, but she doesn’t do aftercare. Never has.”

  “How can she be allowed to keep playing if she doesn’t take care of herself?” I ask, but the Dom just shrugs, and I look helplessly at Tony.

  “What’s going to happen to the asshole who was playing with her?” Tony asks.

  “There are cameras,” the Dom points to a couple of cameras in the ceiling. “And even though we couldn’t hear what they were saying, it’s all captured on camera for cases just like this. The owner is a badass who isn’t going to tolerate that guy’s bullshit. His membership is going to be terminated immediately and if he tries to stir up trouble for the club, he’ll be sued. Hardcore. There are enough lawyers who play here to make that guy’s life a miserable one.”

  Tony and I exchange looks. I’ve only been here twice, but I’d go to bat for the club, absolutely. No questions asked.

  “What do you say we call it a night?” Tony asks. “After all of that, I’m not really in the mood to watch anything else.”

  “Yeah,” I say, but I can’t stop thinking about Christina.

  I can’t stop thinking about her tears.

  And I can’t stop thinking that I wish I had saved her.

  Chapter 7

  Christina

  It’s not exactly a good week.

  I try to avoid Destiny as much as possible at the daycare where we’re both employed, but dodging someone you work with on a regular basis isn’t easy. I’m completely embarrassed she doesn’t want to scene with me anymore. Even though I knew it was bound to happen eventually, the rejection still stings.

  I’m still taking it pretty hard.

  She’s kind and helpful to me at work, but we’re both careful to avoid even joking about our weekend hobby. I know she’s going to be playing with other people and I’ll have to see them together. Even though I was never in love with Destiny, I can’t help feeling a little bit replaced.

  I can’t help feeling like I wasn’t quite good enough.

  Somehow, I make it through five days of work. On Friday night, Susan drops off Amelia. It’s her date night with Jim and they’re going to go to a dinner theater and spend the night at a hotel.

  “You look lovely,” I tell Susan honestly when she drops off Bennett. “Seriously.” She’s wearing a dark blue evening gown and her hair is curled and pinned up. Her makeup is perfectly done. I haven’t seen her look this good in a really, really long time. Susan is beautiful, but she’s like me: a tired mother. She usually only has time for simple hairstyles and makeup, but tonight she went all out.

  “Thank you,” she tells me. “It’s our three month anniversary, so I wanted to dress up.”

  “He’s going to love it,” I tell her. “And take your time picking up Bennett tomorrow. No need to rush.” We have an agreement that we pick up our child by noon the next day, but tonight is special. If Susan wants extra time with Jim, I totally understand, and I’m happy to help her out.

  “Thank you!” Susan squeals and wraps me up in a surprise hug. “I really appreciate you, Christina. Thanks for helping me out tonight.”

  “Anything for you,” I tell her. “You know that.”

  Susan hugs her daughter goodbye and gives me a few more instructions. Then she sets Amelia’s backpack on the counter and heads back to her car. She’s going to pick Jim up at his place and they’ll drive to the theater in her car tonight. As I watch her pull out of the driveway, I can’t help but yearn for what she has.

  And suddenly, I miss Cameron so deeply that I feel like I might burst into tears.

  I set the girls up with a movie and popcorn in the living room. Then I head to my bedroom to have a few minutes to myself before I have a huge emotional breakdown in front of my daughter.

  “You can’t freak out,” I tell myself. “You can’t lose it. Not tonight. Not ever.”

  Having a breakdown isn’t an option when my daughter is around. I know she misses her father, but he died when she was only two years old.

  The reality is that Bennett barely remembers Cameron. She’s seen plenty of pictures and we watch home movies together, but she doesn’t remember his smell. She doesn’t remember his laugh. She doesn’t remember the twinkle in his eyes when he told a really stupid joke or the way he liked to tug at my hair when I wore it in braids.

  She doesn’t remember the letters he wrote.

  She doesn’t remember the visits when he was on deployment.

  She doesn’t remember so much, but I do, and I miss him.

  I sit in the bed I used to share with my husband and I lay on the pillow. For a long time after he died, I wouldn’t wash the sheets. It’s gross, but I wanted to keep his pillow smelling like him because sometimes, when night came, it was the only solace I had.

  When I finally broke down and washed the bedding, it felt like I was losing him all over again.

  Now, I feel like he’s gone.

  Really gone.

  And I am alone.

  Part of this, I’ve done to myself. I know that. There are plenty of Dominants at Anchored who would pursue a relationship with me if I were open to that, but I’m not. I’m not ready to love someone so deeply that it hurts. I’m not ready to fall in love with someone and give myself to them.

  I’m not ready.

  But will I ever be ready?

  There’s a part of me that thinks I’m being stupid, that I’m waiting for something that doesn’t exist. Am I waiting because I think I’m going to find Cameron Version 2? Am I waiting because I think it’s respectful to my dead husband? Am I waiting because I’m scared?

  I’m waiting because I’m scared.

  I’m terrified.

  I remember the pain when I found out he was dead. I remember not believing it until the funeral. I remember being in shock for weeks. I remember trying to take care of my toddler. I remember trying to explain that her father was never, never coming back.

  And I remember how strong I was.

  I remember pulling myself together each day for her.

  I remember getting dressed, and being brave, and holding it together.

  And I wonder why I seem to have stopped when it comes to my dating life.

  In the rest of the world, I’m brave. I handle myself well at work. I do a great job at the daycare. I’m never late to work. I never miss a day. I’m on top of any problem before it escalates. I manage my budget well. My house is almost paid off. I don’t have any other debt. I cook dinner for my daughter and myself each night.

  And I’m on top of my laundry.

  But when it comes to men, when it comes to giving myself, I’m a huge flake. I’m terrified. I’m scared. I don’t want to feel the emotional connection that comes with being a submissive. I don’t want to feel that close to a Dominant partner because at the end of the scene, I want to walk away with my heart still intact.

  I don’t want to risk anything.

  I don’t want to chance getting hurt.

  But isn’t that what love is all about?

  Isn’t that the beauty of falling in love?

  Isn’t that part of the beauty of being human?

  Sometimes we love really, really deeply and then we hurt just as badly. Sometimes our partner betrays us in ways so horrible we can’t understand it. Sometimes the person we love stabs us in the heart and it breaks our soul, just a little bit.

  But sometimes they don’t.

  And sometimes love can be beautiful.

  So tonight, I’m making a decision. I’m going to be brave. I’m going to be bold. I’m going to stop refusing what people offer me. I’m going to stop being so scared. I’m going to get out of my comfort zone and tomorrow night, when I go to Anchored, I’m going to be the badass warrior woman I am inside.

  I’m going to be incredible.

  I’m going to be me.

  Chapter 8

  Zack />
  She’s here again tonight.

  Christina.

  The submissive I’ve been mooning over for weeks is here and tonight, I can play. Tonight, I can actually do something I’ve been wanting to do since I first laid eyes on her. Tonight, I can ask her if she wants to scene with me.

  Only before I can make my way through the crowd to her, I see her talking with another Dom, and my heart sinks when I see them negotiating a scene. She’s going to play with him, but damn if I’m not going to watch.

  Christina is something else. I’ve never met a sub quite like her before. She’s beautiful and sweet and obviously experienced, but she seems to be a little scared, too. She seems to be a little shy. She seems to be worried about giving too much of herself.

  And as selfish as it is, I want her to give herself to me.

  I want to get to know her.

  I want to know what she likes, and what she hates, and what she’s scared of.

  I want to peel back layer after layer after layer and see the real her. I want to see who she is at her core. I want to see what makes Christina herself.

  She heads for the voyeur rooms. She’s following her Dom a few steps behind him, obviously out of respect for the new player.

  “Going to enjoy the show again?” Tony asks, following my eyes. “I’m not sure if I can stand to watch a third week in a row.”

  “I need to see it,” I tell him. What I don’t say is that I want to be there to protect her in case this guy fucks up. I want to be there to keep her safe. I want to be there to watch over her.

  I don’t know why I feel like Christina needs protection, but I do. I don’t know anything about her except what I’ve seen in scenes and what I’ve heard from other people at the club, but I want to be there for her. Everyone in the world needs a friend and tonight, I’m going to be that friend for Christina, whether she realizes it or not.

  Tony sighs, but follows me as I move through the crowd. The club is in full swing tonight. It’s not a theme night, but it’s packed. A couple of girls are making out on one stage while a Dom watches over them, circling them. Another stage has a male submissive bent over a spanking bench. His Domme is spanking him with a paddle. Each thwap! of the paddle against his skin elicits a groan. Yeah, this is more of a reward than a punishment for him.