by Jaye Peaches
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.
***
A surprisingly short space of time passed before they hit the open waters of the Mediterranean Sea. The waves lapped at the sides as the yacht moved steadily through the sea. Gemma practised walking up and down the deck, holding the rails, feeling the vibrations as they ploughed through the water.
“The captain will be taking it slowly for the first couple of days, let us find our sea legs. If you feel seasick, you must say. You can wear a patch if it gets bad,” Jason told her over breakfast.
“I rarely get travel sickness, in cars, at least.” She hoped she wouldn’t need medication. There were bound to be side effects. “How long will it take to arrive in Ceuta?”
“By tomorrow, we’re going to track the coast. Take a long route there. Get your sea legs settled.” Jason smeared syrup over his crepe.
As he requested, she sunbathed naked on the deck under her own smearing of high factor sun cream. Gemma made the most of the good weather. Sea weather, she had been told, was changeable, especially the winds. A breeze blew, but nothing that could whip the page of her book over. She basked and rotated like a hog on a spit.
A shadow fell across her. Above her stood Jason, dressed in shorts, his chest bared.
“Your computer behaving?” she asked.
“Perfectly, but it’s Sunday. I won’t be using it. Come out of the sun, babe. You don’t want to cook yourself too quickly.” He turned away and headed towards the canopied lounger.
Gemma followed with a towel wrapped around her bosom. He lay on his side, and she joined him, lying on her back. When he reached across to her and searched out one of her breasts from underneath the towel, her breath quickened. Jason dragged the towel off her, and her heartbeat accelerated in anticipation of what was to come.
Slipping out of his shorts, Jason took her underneath him. She closed her eyes, spread her legs keenly, lifting her pelvis high for him, delivering her sex and ensuring he felt her eagerness clamping about his manhood. Her wrists, he pinned above her head with a tight and pinching grasp, the kind of domination she loved him to exhibit. She panted in short gasps, holding her orgasm at bay, determined to let it grow into a mountain of pulsating nerve endings.
The orgasm would have to consume every morsel of her body, drive out any negative energy, replace edginess and tautness with unscrupulous lust. Enticing Gemma further, Jason nibbled on her stiff nipples until she winced. His light chuckle reminded her he was partial to witnessing her pleasurable pain. Avoiding her gaze, he continued to lick and suck hard on her nipples until her breasts grew tender and swollen. Then, once again, he thrust deep inside her, and she let out a cry of tremendous delight.
“Shhh, baby.”
They might be on the top deck, but excessive noise would carry to the lower ones. Some lustful cries he would tolerate carrying to the envious crew below, but he’d told her on the plane he intended to gag her for the rougher play. The discussions about protocols had made her aroused with excitement.
Rough sex didn’t put Gemma off. About his pounding cock, she grew wet with natural lubrication that couldn’t be contained long. She came with a rhythmic spasm, bursting outwards into every element of her sexual being, and she adored the sensation. The liberty of coming unhindered overwhelmed her. Jason didn’t relent, and her deprived sex became overloaded. She wanted to come multiple times, as she knew she could, given the right circumstances. He ground his hips into her, deeper and faster, drawing her knees up and pushing them onto her shoulders.
The breeze blew across them, rippling waves of tiny shivers across her flesh. She relished him inside her, there on the luxurious yacht in the middle of the sea, used for his pleasure, uninhibited by bindings or teasing hands. Vanilla sex in the open air was just as good as bound sex in a dungeon. So when she opened her eyes and saw Enrique standing under the mast arch, she tensed, freezing all her muscles.
What is he doing watching us?
She glanced at the table next to them where drinks had appeared. Enrique had come close to them as they were having sex. Jason didn’t pause. If anything, her tension had heightened his arousal.
“Oh, Gemma!” he moaned into her neck as he bucked hard against her belly.
Enrique stood impassive and didn’t budge. Gemma tried to ignore him but couldn’t. For a moment, she lost the sensual side, the arousal went. Jason continued to pound into her. She became breathless, making small noises, but he didn’t let up. Eyes tightly shut again, she waited for him to finish.
“Come for me,” he demanded.
“I...can’t,” she gasped.
He released one of her wrists and eased away from her then found her clitoris with his thumb.
“I... I...” she floundered.
“You’ll come for me,” he commanded. He started to frig her hard, and her body relented.
Gradually, with his words echoing in her head, she found her lost arousal and ran her hand up and down his back. His smooth, muscular skin flexed as he lifted himself in and out of her. Sweat formed on his skin, and his particular smell caught her nose. Unchecked and ready, she came, bucking with the intensity as his thumb rubbed harder and harder.
“Argh!” she yelled out, and he gagged her cries with his mouth while he ejaculated into her.
***
Jason rolled off his wife. Her legs flopped down, and she lay perfectly still. Resting on his elbows, Jason gave Enrique a small nod, and the other man left.
Jason knew two facts about his wife: she didn’t like surprises and, once she accepted a situation, she was amazingly pliable. The first didn’t bother him as he liked the way she’d tensed up when she caught sight of Enrique—her sudden onset of embarrassed humiliation thrilled a man like Jason. Once she accepted their watcher wouldn’t be going, she had acquiesced and relaxed.
Some of the scenes he had in mind would depend on Gemma being able to cope with being watched, while others would need greater compliance from her, even blind obedience. Halfway through day one and his lovely wife had given him a very enjoyable sexual interlude.
“Say what’s on your mind?” He ran a finger down her arm until it reached the back of her hand. Once there, he drew patterns with the tip of his finger. She flinched slightly, but didn’t withdraw.
“Did you ask Enrique to be here?” She bit her lip.
“Yes. I want you to get used to Enrique and Maria being present when we have sex. It pleases me. You shouldn’t feel self-conscious or ashamed by what we do. They know my tastes and style. I have employed them
on previous cruises when I brought experienced subs with me.”
Gemma said nothing about his reference to his hedonistic days as a fledging millionaire.
“I know you struggle with exhibiting,” continued Jason. “Though why, I can’t understand. In Roman times, slaves and servants would typically stand by and watch their masters have sex. It should make you feel privileged. Our staff will wait until we finish and provide suitable aftercare for the both of us.” He held up the glass of water. “See?”
“Aftercare. You look after me, Sir.” Her voice wobbled.
He put his glass down and drew her into his arms. Seeing her unravel always unsettled him. The change in roles from vanilla husband to masterful Dominant had been more dramatic than usual, and her air of vulnerability gave him mixed feelings. Her apparent reliance on him, along with her need for assurances, kept his sadist side at bay, tempered and controlled. However, her need in her to seek his comfort and pacifying words empowered him.
“Babe, I meant physical. Baths, massages, manicures. I will always take care of your emotional aftercare. I would never abandon you if you couldn’t cope. I told you that when we first started as Dom and sub together. Don’t hide from me, Gem.” He bolstered her with a kiss.
“Last night. After. I didn’t know if you would be there for me. Maria was kind to me. I’m sorry. I’m not convinced…. I need considerable aftercare, and you didn’t…if I..... Jason, I can’t be what you want me to be over the next three weeks if you toss me away. Maria can’t replace you when my emotions are raw and frayed,” she whispered into his chest.
“I know, babe. Don’t be afraid of me. I couldn’t bear it if you were afraid to talk to me. I used you hard last night, but you were willing and so keen once you gave in. The look on your face told me when I came in your mouth. I had to control you, discipline you. Make you become the submissive I need you to be for me. Are you ready for me now? Ready to please me unconditionally?”
“Oh, yes. I’m willing. You have my submission fully now. I’m starting to enter into the spirit of our agreement. Please be patient with me. You are a demanding Master. Maria reminded me Doms are exacting. I will try hard not to sulk if you ask me to do something I don’t like. I suspect you’re going to push my limits again, aren’t you?”
“Yes, my darling. What kind of holiday would it be for me if I didn’t have any goals or challenges to achieve? I might as well go back to work!” He laughed, and she buried her face in his chest, opting to ignore his comment about goals and limits. “Now, slave, I believe I have an enema to observe,” he said with a wicked smile of anticipation.
“Oh. Yes, Master. You do.”
Gemma took a deep breath and surrendered to him with dutiful acceptance.
***
Maria waited for the first session in the spa. Slightly nervous, she fingered a bottle of lavender oil. Señor Lucas locked the door behind him and sauntered over to sit in an armchair. One of the many ubiquitous standard pieces of furnished chairs found throughout the yacht.
“Do you wish me to give the señora a massage first?” Maria asked as her señora went to kneel at Señor Lucas’s feet.
“No. Strip her. Wax her, and then I want to see her have her enema.” He spoke as if his wife was an object to entertain him, and in that moment, she was.
They went about the task with mutual stoicism, Señora Gemma mute, eyes cast down. Maria carefully removed her clothes, folded each item, and placed it on a stool. She slowly slipped off the señora’s knickers, a sensual play for the benefit of Señor Lucas. A strip show for his delectation.
She helped Señora Gemma to lie down on the massage table, drew the señora’s legs up, and spread her knees, exposing her genitalia. A trained beautician and masseur, Maria wasn’t embarrassed by her actions. Señora Gemma kept her eyes tightly shut. With a flick of her wrist, Maria waxed the señora, careful not to leave a scratch with her long, polished nails. She removed the tiny bristles not only from her perineum but also from her legs and underarms. Once she had wiped down and moisturised the shaved skin, Maria moved on to the enema.
Señor Lucas stood and came closer. The señora grimaced, and her features tightened as the tube entered her rectum. However, she was accepting and compliant, uncomplaining of the rising discomfort and bloating inside her belly caused by the enema. In the past, the señor had intercourse with subs receiving enemas or had them bent over his lap as they had been filled, spanking them hard at the same time.
“Hold her,” he ordered. “I don’t want her falling off the table.”
Señora Gemma opened her eyes wide with alarm, and her hands grasped the edge of the table.
Chapter 6. The Massage
Gemma’s orgasm made her convulse, pained by the cramps in her belly, and she achieved the desired outcome quickly. For some reason, being held down and finger fucked by Jason was enjoyable and erotic. She moaned with lust, revelling in the powerful orgasm. Only when she came down did she become aware of her desperate need to void her bowels.
“Please, please,” she pleaded at Jason’s amused face.
“Do you need the loo, darling?” he teased.
Frustrated and forgetting herself, she hollered, “Yes, you bastard!”
He shook his head and gave her thigh a hard slap. “Now, you’re going to wait a few minutes longer.”
“Sorry, sorry.” She quickly applied her most supplicant face. “Please, Sir.” In Gemma’s head, the orgasm had been wiped out. All she felt had been the cramping and humiliation of having to beg. Maria stood by, watching Gemma plead with every morsel of her body.
“Very well. Go.” He headed towards the locked door. “You can have your massage,” he added as he held the handle.
She stumbled off the table then paused with her buttocks tightly clenched and inhaled deeply. “Thank you, Sir.” The door slammed shut as she reached the en-suite bathroom.
Returning to the room, Gemma eased her body onto the massage table, taking the time to make herself comfortable.
The humiliation of the enema over, she lay under Maria’s strong fingers, enjoying her massage. Pleasant music, Spanish guitar instrumentals, at Maria’s suggestion, drifted around the room. Well-oiled hands worked down her body, front and back. Gemma was touched everywhere except at the apex of her thighs.
The humiliating enema drifted out of her mind and she latched on to Maria’s brown eyes as the Mexican kneaded her calf muscle.
“How long have you been with Enrique?” she asked.
“Oh, señora, fifteen years, I think.” Maria pressed her thumbs down.
“A long time!”
“I was sixteen. In Mexico, that is not so young. We worked the tourist resorts by the coast. I learnt how to be a beautician, and he would sit on the beach drawing caricatures for rich Americans on vacation.”
“Enrique is an artist?”
“A graphic artist. Back then, he made money doing the beach sketches, or cartoons. Charming and handsome man. Still is. Quiet. Strong. I fell in love straight away. Love at first was very vanilla and natural. He taught me to love myself as much as him. When he asked if he could tie me up and have sex, I simply said yes, and he did. That’s how it began. We were very discreet and knew nobody else who did those things.”
“You were still sixteen?” Gemma frowned.
“Eighteen, señora. Young, yes, but he didn’t abuse me. He is very honourable. He got into trouble with my family, though. They didn’t see him as a suitable match. We had to leave the country quickly and crossed the border into California. One community welcomed us, and from them, we found out we were not alone. We observed, and with these kind, friendly people, we found sanctuary. Enrique became skilled with rope, and I learnt to use my mouth and hands.”
Gemma enjoyed the benefit of Maria’s hands. The relaxing massage loosened her stiff muscles. “How did you end up doing this kind of work, for Jason?”
“We didn’t have the right papers, and it was difficult getting work. Enrique dr
ew cartoons or graphic comics for local newspapers. He started to do erotica, graphic stories, and published them online. The money helped, and his name became known to those who like that kind of thing. I went to people’s houses and gave them massages and beauty treatments. One day, a wealthy man like your husband asked if we would wait on them at a party. A fetish party. So we did, and the money was good. It grew from there. Private parties and functions.” Maria paused and asked Gemma to turn. She massaged her shoulders, twisting her fingers around to ease the tension in Gemma’s neck.
“Mmmm, very nice,” murmured Gemma. “How did Jason find you?”
“I don’t know. He knows many people. He asked us to come and join him on a cruise here in the Med. In return, he offered to find us a new, legitimate life in Spain. We jumped at the opportunity and spent two weeks on this yacht. Your husband was young, in his mid-twenties, I should think. Like many men who suddenly discover wealth, it went a little to his head, and he became wild and playful. The first trip, he invited men and women, a mix of our kind. For the duration, this yacht was a fuck boat. I can tell you….”
“Go on, Maria,” Gemma said with a determined tone. She wanted to know; she had to know more about her husband. He would never tell her.
“As I said, Señora, he was young. The yacht, chartered for him. He had no interest in the cruise, only the girls. There were demanding, difficult scenes, you understand? The next three times were different. He came with a couple, a Mr. Bradley and Miss Wainwright?”
“Yes, I know them. Garratt and Judith. They’re friends.” More than friends. Garratt and Jason co-owned a BDSM nightclub called the Nightshade, an exclusive haunt for the wealthy. The conservative décor and formal etiquette so different from the clubs where she chose to dance or meet other kinky people. Her first visit had been a daunting occasion. She’d met Judith, Garrett’s long term partner and consensual slave. Many years ago, Judith had shared Jason’s bed. Gemma had initially resented the other woman’s involvement with Jason, even though it had long finished. Given the circumstances, her friendship with Judith had taken time to develop. Now, they were close. “Who was with Jason?”