by Jaye Peaches
***
While the two couples had a break, Enrique sketched out a new picture. Maria sat at his feet, sharing an orange with him while he quickly captured the image in his mind. The man would be standing over the woman. She would be kneeling at the man’s feet, back arched and mouth wide open. Her glorious head of hair would be clutched tightly in the man’s hands while he filled her mouth with his gargantuan erection. Colossal in size, it would suffocate her with its dimensions. All about his imaginary couple, water cascaded and bouncing off their bodies. Not a shower. He had decided to place the couple under a waterfall where hard rocks would surround them and turbulent water froth at their feet.
The sketch completed he showed Maria.
“Perfecto!” She smiled and offered him another segment of orange.
Chapter 18. Voyeurs
Day Nine
Framed by the archway, Andrea stopped dead in her sneaking tracks.
It was as if she and John watched from an auditorium. The archway transformed into the promontory of a theatre, and the bed-shaped lounger now became the stage. The morning sunlight reflected off the angular white awning, dazzling but insufficient to blind her nor prevent her from seeing what was happening underneath. Even in the shadows, she could clearly see it all. What they were doing.
The view before the riveted Andrea seemed like pornography, the kind she unintentionally came across on the Internet. She dare not shift her eyes to John’s face. From him, she heard a sharp intake of breath. Even from a distance, she could see the detail, the blatant kinkery.
Jason wore shorts, which hung low on his hips. A naked Gemma knelt with her bottom pressed against Jason’s groin. Blindfolded and gagged, her bound wrists attached by a rope to the pole holding up the awning.
From Gemma, small muted cries of, “uh, uh”. From him, low grunts of exertion. His hands held her flesh in a pincer grip. Andrea thought Gemma’s tightly gripped hips barely sufficient for his needs. He banged into her vigorously, slapping against her buttocks.
With quiet footsteps, she and John crept closer until they halted by the archway. Now, they could see and hear more clearly. Gemma made guttural noises, words spoken in desperate tones.
“Please, please,” she muttered, pulling on the rope.
“Fuck, yes,” Jason growled back. “You’ll take it. Come again for me!”
Gemma tossed her head back, and he picked up his pace into a relentless energetic act of fucking. Broad shoulders encased her from behind, and his hips gyrated back and forth, smacking into her rear. Her fingers grasped the rope tightly, and her arms stretched in front of her as Jason pulled her back onto him.
Biting her lip, Andrea glanced at her boyfriend. John turned a fiery red, chest expanding as he drew back his shoulders. His fists clenched, screwed up into tight balls. Andrea thought he was about to explode with rage.
“Stay silent!” Enrique crept up behind them, whispering as he tiptoed. “Move very quietly away. Back off.”
She started to step backwards, but John remained frozen to the decking.
“Señor Marshall, you must go. To interrupt them would be dangerous. You must believe me.”
To Andrea’s relief, John did as he was asked, and the three of them snuck away to the stern’s stairwell. Enrique led them, not back to the main deck, but to the private upper deck. Leaning down, John threw a pile of magazines onto the polished floor with a sweep of his arm.
“What the hell was he doing to my little sister? There was me thinking they did a little kinky sex, and I find he is torturing her!” He kicked a magazine across the polished floor.
Enrique stood guard by the stairwell. Andrea felt strangely ambivalent. Gemma wasn’t her sister, and she could therefore distance herself from what she had witnessed. From John’s perspective, he had seen his sister being brutally used by a seemly ungracious and uncaring husband.
Turning away from the irate John and his tantrum, she approached Enrique. “What did you mean, dangerous?”
Enrique leant on the wall, arms crossed. “You must not interrupt when they are in play. Doing their scene. In many clubs, people put up do not disturb signs. It is considered rude and risky to intrude. Unless you know the rules or boundaries have been crossed. I monitor their play. I would know if had gone too far.” He gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.
“Dangerous to interrupt?” queried John, foot poised to kick out again. “For fuck’s sake, how would you know my sister is all right? She is gagged!” He paced about the deck with his fists still clenched into tight, angry balls.
“She is in his control, and she trusts him. Imagine if you are in darkness and unable to speak. You have put your faith in one person to honour your limits. Then some loud mouth idiot jumps up on you. She might pull on her bindings, panic, and be terrified. He would lose his control over the situation and she her trust of him. They wouldn’t thank you. Seriously, señor. Stay here until they are finished,” warned Enrique.
“John, he’s right. We were not invited up there. We should have understood their privacy is there to allow them to do what they do without being spied on. When we spoke about joining them on the cruise, we agreed to respect their privacy. Remember?” She touched John’s arm, and he didn’t lash back at her.
“Yes. I remember.” His fingers uncurled, loosened, and he patted them against his thighs. With a low groan, he slumped into a nearby chair, head in his hands.
“Fuck. It’s one thing to see my sister having sex, but that kind of sex! What am I supposed to think? You’ve caught them in the act before. Was it that bad?”
Andrea recalled the incident where she had happened upon Gemma and Jason having sex in their kitchen. Gemma had been restrained by his hand, gagged with a tea towel, and the sex had certainly been rough. Yet, as Gemma had pointed out later, she had enjoyed it. Had she been enjoying what they were doing on the sundeck? Andrea elected not to answer John’s question. It wasn’t her right to answer for another.
Enrique checked his watch. “I should see if they are finished. How did you get up there?”
Andrea felt like a criminal, a trespasser. “The stern door was unlocked,” she murmured.
“Shit. He is not going to be pleased,” said Enrique grimly with a shake of his head. “I will have to explain. You should wait here.” He bounded up the stairwell to the sundeck.
Andrea flopped in a chair next to John. “We’re in trouble, regardless of what we saw.”
“I don’t care. I’ve a good mind to take Gemma back with us. Away from him. He is bad for her, Andi. You must see that!”
Andrea took a deep breath and blew it out in a long huff. She was tempted to tell him what she knew he didn’t know. The horrific rape of Gemma had been kept secret from him and the rest of the family. What he didn’t know was how critical Jason had become to Gemma’s well-being. Ironic, after seeing what they had witnessed under the canopy.
***
“What?” roared Jason.
Gemma sat up from where she had been lying in her post-coital blissful haze.
“The door was unlocked,” Enrique said quietly, wringing his hands together.
“They saw us?” Gemma was mortified.
“Sí. I sent them back down. To your main salon, away from the crew. Señor Marshall is seriously pissed off, señora. He does not understand what he saw.” Enrique cringed as Jason threw a rope bundle at Enrique’s chest with force.
“How did it come to be unlocked?” Jason paced up and down.
“I do not know. I shall ask Maria. She was changing the linen.”
Gemma lay back and covered her eyes with her hands. What fate awaited the unfortunate little Maria?
“This is bad, Jason. John probably wants to punch your lights out at the moment.” She stood up and reached for her robe. “I will speak to them.” She slipped on the white satin gown.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Jason asked haltingly.
She rubbed her eyes, blinking in the bright sunlight
.
“Yes. Let me pacify him. You would incense him. Please, Jason. My brother.”
Jason drew her into an embrace. “Okay, babe. Call me if it gets out of hand. I shall be talking to Maria.”
Gemma felt a pang of sympathy for Maria. A Jason interrogation with him a bad mood wouldn’t be an endearing experience.
As Gemma headed down the staircase, she felt increasingly angry. At Maria for leaving the lock off the door. At John and Andrea for blatantly going where they had been asked not to go—up to their private deck without permission. Enrique’s absence when he should have been monitoring the deck. Where had the man gone? By the time she reached the bottom step, she had convinced herself she should feel no shame or apologise for what her brother had witnessed.
“Gemma....” Her face stopped John dead. Lips set tight and her hands folded across her chest.
“You bloody idiots. How dare you intrude, spy on us like a pair of peeping toms. I thought you understood the nature of my relationship with Jason, the sex we engage in, and the privacy we demand due to it. How could you, John!”
Andrea, red-faced, stared at her wriggling toes.
John stood up and approached his sister with a face that seemed to Gemma as if it was going to explode in an apoplectic fit. “You’re not staying here, Gemma, with that man!”
“Don’t be bloody ridiculous, John. Have you heard nothing of what I’ve been saying?” Gemma snapped back.
“That man—”
“Is my husband. The man I love and trust with my life!”
Gemma reached out and grabbed her brother’s flailing arms by the wrists. A strong man, but her touch halted his aggressive posturing.
“John, please listen to me. Open your mind and listen.” Gemma was used to pleading. An expert at begging and supplication. The imploring eyes and the beseeching tone, she practised with Jason came in useful with her brother.
John closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose, almost a snort. “All right. Explain to me. Explain what the hell you two were doing up there. Because all I saw was a woman tied up, gagged, in pain, and being fucked like a piece of meat. At this precise moment, all I want to do is punch his lights out and take you back home. So this better be convincing.” He stepped back, arms folded tightly across his chest, legs astride.
Andrea had melted into the background, leaving Gemma in a standoff with her brother.
She stood with hands on hips. “What do you want to know? Jason and I fuck. Big deal. Anal sex, too. When I have my period, he fucks my bum, and do you know what? I love it. He is bloody good at it. I was trained to take a good fuck up the arse, and we both know what we’re doing. It doesn’t hurt, and you only think it’s painful because that is your and Andrea’s experience. Take my word for it. It can be fantastic when done properly.”
Adrenaline coursed through her bloodstream. An unusually cathartic rant on her part. Talking about her sex life with friends usually required her to remain quiet or keep her comments as subtle nuances. Spilling out her opinion to John, the image of her erotic pursuits, changed from a sepia, underdeveloped photograph into a colourful, vibrant picture representing everything that made sex a wondrous part of life.
Her brother shuffled about listening to her talk unequivocally about sex. “Okay, what about the blindfold and gag?”
“Christ, John. We’re outside. Sound carries. I don’t want the crew to hear me scream. My screams of sheer delight. It saves me embarrassment. Jason has the willpower to stay silent. I’m useless. Hence, the gag. If I have to communicate, we use gestures. I’ve told you this before, last year. Remember? The blindfold means I’m not distracted and I’m focused. On him.”
“You looked in pain. Don’t lie to me. I know you too well. Don’t tell me what he was doing didn’t hurt you.”
Gemma took stock of his words. The explanation wouldn’t be straightforward. He was nailing the target of his ire. Her legs wobbled as the adrenaline began to decline in her system. She walked past him and took a seat in a chair. Normally, she wouldn’t be having an intense conversation with someone after sex. At least, anyone but Jason. She missed his calming tone and gentle caresses.
“Bondage. I don’t see the fuss.” She added with a vicious tone, “And I think it’s rich coming from you, John. You tied Andrea up with bloody garden twine. Your little attempt at bedroom kink. Remember?”
Andrea came across from her side stage position and took John’s hand as he digested the barbed remark.
Gemma continued. “That isn’t the point. He wasn’t hurting me. I leant back and pulled on the rope, giving myself pain. Sometimes, the longer the wait, the better the climax.” She bit her lip, waiting for John to assimilate the explanation of what he had seen.
But he shook his head. “I don’t understand all this control business. Doesn’t he want you to have a good time?”
The question caused a rush of butterflies in her belly, not from excitement but dread. She hated the implication. “Yes, of course he does,” she said. “When he wishes, when it pleases him. I can’t explain any more than I have. You have to trust me when I say we love each other, and what you witnessed was moderate play by our standards. We do make love, too, you know. Romantic-type vanilla sex.”
John laced his fingers together. They had ceased to tremble.
“You like pain, Gemma? You’ve told me this before, I know, but John....” Andrea hesitated. “You need to make him understand. He doesn’t get it.”
Gemma had to bite the bullet. She felt backed into a corner, and the anger she had arrived with had been replaced with a need to confess, to have it out in the open once and for all.
“I use a certain kind of pain to make me feel pleasure—intense erotic pleasure. I don’t expect you to understand. I consent to everything. Consensual acts. Controlled by safe-words. Jason knows my limits. Please don’t be repulsed. It’s what I am, and I’m not changing or leaving him because you can’t handle the thought of your little sister being her husband’s sex slave. That’s what I am. His sex slave. My purpose as his submissive is to please him, nothing else, and doing so gives me great satisfaction. There, I’ve said it.”
She buried her head in her hands. There was nowhere to hide. What was said couldn’t be taken back. A collective silence descended. John returned to his chair and slumped back with a sigh.
“Where do we go from here?” John asked the air, fingers running through his sweaty hair.
The sound of Jason answering lifted Gemma. She didn’t care whether her husband would be annoyed with her revelations or not. Perhaps she had expressed herself badly or inappropriately. He would tell her later when they were alone, she was sure of that.
***
“Nowhere.” Jason arrived from the bottom of the stairs. “You don’t have to go anywhere. I’m not going to throw you off the yacht or ruin your holiday. Though you came close to destroying Gemma’s and mine through your ignorance and selfishness, John.”
He moved farther into the room. He had heard Gemma’s final statements and been furious she had been made to expose the true nature of their relationship. He suspected John’s anger had been directed at him, but she had sacrificed her own dignity to placate her brother. Determined not to show his rage, he tried hard to relax his facial features.
“Gemma!” He employed the familiar tone he used to call her to his feet, and she went there and knelt. Head bowed and hands resting on her thighs, ignoring her brother, she rightly chose to focus on Jason.
“Are you all right?” He rested his hand on the top of her head.
“Yes, Sir.” Her trembling voice didn’t convince him.
“You don’t sound all right. Go, have a shower, and dress yourself. We’ll wait for you here. Don’t rush.” He lifted her chin up with his hand and gave her a reassuring smile.
“Thank you, Sir.” She brushed away a solitary tear. Jason wasn’t mad at her, instead he surged with pride at her overt display of submission before her brother. His hands cup
ped her face and as she rose up, his lips met hers, allowing him to linger and taste her.
“I love you, babe,” he murmured. “Go.”
With his wife gone, he turned his attention to his brother-in-law.
John stayed seated, a statue with a drawn expression. Jason offered him a glass of cold water, and he took it. John’s hand trembled as he sipped the liquid. Could his brother-in-law ever come to terms with all he had been told, or would he have to cast Gemma aside, unable to rebuild a relationship with his little sister? The matter, in Jason’s opinion, had to be resolved for the last time.
Jason sat opposite John, waiting patiently for the younger man to collect his thoughts. There was no rush. Prior to arriving on the deck, Jason had already dispensed one lecture to an ill-disciplined woman, and he wasn’t really in the mood to vent his spleen a second time.
Maria had been found by Enrique and been brought to the sundeck while Gemma placated her brother on the deck below. When Jason told Maria she must have left the door unlocked, she had been horrified, especially after Enrique had told her what had happened on the flybridge. She had gone white.
She told them what she had done, the pile of laundry she had been carrying. The need to leave the door ajar so she could carry her load. The door she had left open connected the sundeck to the main deck, a back entrance on the aft side of the yacht rather than the main amidships stairwell. She wouldn’t have anticipated that during the few minutes she had left the door open it would have been chanced upon by the other guests.
Jason had been furious at her stupidity. She’d tried to explain her absentminded actions, and he had ripped into her. Reminding her the most important rule he had asked them to comply with was ensuring privacy. She had failed, and he would not consider any excuses. She would be punished. Jason then asked Enrique to carry it out after their guests had left the yacht. He would witness the penalty. In meantime, she would offer her profuse apologies to Gemma.