by W. S. Antony
Back on board Ash supervised the stowage of the extra fuel in the lazarette, and then began checking over the engines. Jeni had just finished unpacking the provisions when Rebecca called her.
Her employer looked hung-over and needed two cups of black coffee before the colour returned to her cheeks. Jeni put her under a cold shower while she tidied the cabin. Devereaux also made his appearance about then, looking even worse than Rebecca. He blinked stupidly at Ash as he worked on the engines, as though surprised by the activity. Jeni supplied him with more coffee while Ash reminded him of the events of the previous night. Ash was evidently hoping he would feel too unwell to see the ill-considered wager through, but Devereaux appeared to pull himself together and managed a smile.
‘Thanks for getting her ready, Brad. Don’t worry, we’ll show them.’
At eleven-thirty Devereaux piloted the Galatea over to the start of the unofficial race a little way offshore. Several million pounds worth of seagoing luxury bobbed impatiently on the waves as the rival crews made ready. Onlookers in dinghies and motor launches circled round them, calling out encouragement or disparaging remarks according to their loyalties. Rebecca, now apparently completely recovered, appeared on deck. At first she draped herself playfully over Devereaux, but he was conversing urgently with Ash about tactics and courses, so she made her way to the bow where she could best see and be seen.
Jeni felt very small and insignificant in the midst of such a display of wealth and self-assurance. Imagine having the freedom and the nerve to change your plans in the space of twelve hours and set off on a race across almost half an ocean, she thought.
Then she was afflicted by a sudden nameless sense of foreboding. What was she doing here? Was this whole venture not simply foolish but dangerous? Well, even if it was it was too late to leave now, and nobody would change their plans for the likes of her. As always she was helplessly following along in the wake of those with more purpose and certainty of spirit than she possessed.
The seconds ticked away and the starting pistol cracked...
An hour passed and the racers gradually spread out across the ocean, due both to the slightly divergent courses they were following and as small differences in speed began to tell. Three of the yachts were falling behind the Galatea while one was slowly pulling ahead. Devereaux remained on the fly bridge while Ash was seated inside at the lower helm monitoring the gauges, his ear cocked for any change in the engine noise. Jeni took him some iced fruit juice, which he accepted gratefully, flashing her a reassuring smile.
‘They’re holding up so far,’ he said, nodding at the deck, below which the engines throbbed. ‘We’ve even got a little in reserve. I persuaded Mark to wait a while before going all out. I don’t think the Lady Delaware, that’s the boat we’re chasing, can hold her rate of knots for too long.’
Jeni carried another glass of juice up to Devereaux, who took it with an absentminded nod, his eyes fixed on the distant form of the Lady Delaware halfway to the horizon. Swaying against the motion of trembling deck, Jeni took a third glass of juice forward to the bow, where Rebecca was still disporting herself. She was holding tightly on to the railing, as though riding the big yacht.
Rebecca downed the drink thirstily, then said loudly against the wind and hiss of water, ‘Bring me another. And I need more sun cream.’
Jeni returned shortly with the refill and a tube of cream. Rebecca turned her back to the bow rail and rested against it with her arms spread, so that Jeni could anoint the front of her torso where her skin had been reddened slightly by the sea spray. She waved up to Devereaux, who merely nodded back distractedly. With a frown she snapped, ‘Put plenty on my tits.’
As Jeni worked the cream into Rebecca’s twin cones of pliant flesh she felt Rebecca’s nipples harden in a brazen display of sensuous pleasure, and gave an inward shiver. How beautiful Rebecca was! Jeni realised Ash could also see her performing this menial yet intimate service for her mistress from the lower helm position, as Rebecca must know full well. But if the provocative gesture was intended to win Devereaux’s attention it seemed to fail; his eyes did not stray from the boat in front of them.
When Jeni passed back through the saloon wiping cream from her hands, Ash raised a sardonic eyebrow but said nothing.
Not long afterwards Rebecca, apparently tiring of her perch on the bow with no rival now close enough to taunt and nobody paying her any attention, also returned aft. Jeni saw her coming from the galley. Rebecca had not bothered to cover her breasts and trailed her bikini top behind her. A little of the colour seemed to have drained from her cheeks. Jeni got some tablets out of the medicine locker and filled a tumbler with water. Rebecca made her way up to the fly bridge and Jeni heard the windblown murmur of an exchange with Devereaux, though she could not make out the actual words.
A minute later Rebecca descended and came back through the cockpit. Ash was in the lazarette supervising the transfer of reserve fuel to the main tank. Jeni saw Rebecca look down at him through the open deck hatch and paused, hands on hips, feet wide to steady herself against the swaying deck.
‘Can’t you stop this boat rocking about so much?’ she demanded. ‘It’s making me feel sick.’
‘Not at this speed, Miss Lamont,’ Ash replied, keeping his eyes firmly on his task. ‘You’ll have to talk to Mr Devereaux about that. It’s his race.’
Jeni watched Rebecca standing there, tight-lipped with frustration, and felt a slight pang of sympathy for her employer. Apart from the unsettling motion as the Galatea ploughed through the Atlantic swell, the throb of the engines at high revs filled the boat. Rebecca had enjoyed the fun of the start, but now that the race had become a test of endurance with only the empty ocean to look at, she was clearly beginning to regret accepting the wager.
Jeni came forward quickly. ‘These will help, miss,’ she said, holding out the pills and tumbler. ‘Then perhaps I could give you a massage.’
Rebecca scowled, downed the pills, and flounced off to her cabin with Jeni trailing after her.
Jeni worked the knots of tension out of Rebecca’s supine body as best she could, but the motion of the boat made her clumsy, which did little to improve Rebecca’s mood. As she struggled to soothe her employer, Jeni thought again of the way she stood over the lazarette hatch. Despite her anger and discomfort, it was as though she had been deliberately flaunting herself in front of Ash. Did she take pleasure in taunting somebody she considered her inferior, or was her vanity manifesting itself through exhibitionism? Then again, the display might have been a means of asserting herself by intimidation. In all it spoke of a spiteful and self-centred character. But then that was something Jeni already knew. In fact, it was part of what had drawn her to Rebecca’s employment.
All through the long afternoon the Galatea pressed on. The trailing yachts slipped further astern and were lost in the haze of the horizon. The Lady Delaware maintained her lead but drew no further ahead.
Rebecca stayed in her cabin refusing food and fighting down her seasickness. Jeni kept the men supplied with drinks and finger meals, and even found herself infected with a little of their excitement. If they were in a race then they might as well do their best to win, and Ash seemed hopeful they could overhaul the Lady Delaware during the night.
As evening fell, Devereaux came down from the fly bridge to take the lower helm. He and Ash worked out a watch rota between them. Jeni decided he possessed more determination than she had given him credit for, and suspected this show of resolve pleased Ash as well. It might have been a foolish wager, but at least he looked like seeing it through.
Night closed in about them and they sailed on under clear skies and a dusting of brilliant stars. They might have been alone on the ocean except for the blip on radar screen that marked the position of the race leader. Ever so slightly the gap between them was shortening.
The sea swell also seemed to have diminished, so Jeni too
k a light supper to Rebecca’s cabin in the hope of getting her to eat something. Though her face was still pale Rebecca appeared to be a little better. She was sprawled on her bed mechanically leafing through a magazine.
‘I’ve got some food, miss,’ Jeni said.
Without looking up, Rebecca said, ‘I’m not hungry.’
‘It would do you good to eat something. Perhaps you might change your mind later, miss,’ Jeni added, putting the tray down on the bedside locker.
‘No, take it away!’ Rebecca snapped, waving a hand at the tray. Her fingertip caught the rim of the glass of fruit juice, sending it tumbling to the floor. ‘Now look what you’ve made me do!’ Rebecca accused angrily. ‘Clean it up at once.’
Jeni fetched a cloth from the bathroom locker, got down on her hands and knees beside the bed and began mopping up. As she did so she said, ‘Mr Devereaux hopes you’re feeling better, miss. He said he’s sorry he won’t be joining you tonight, but he has to share watches with Mr Ash.’
Rebecca frowned. ‘Ash should be able to steer the boat himself. That’s what he’s paid to do.’
‘He has to rest sometime, miss,’ Jeni said respectfully. ‘He must be getting very tired by now.’
Rebecca rolled over on the bed so she looked down at Jeni. ‘I don’t care if he’s tired,’ she scowled, her indignation fuelled by discomfort and frustration.
Jeni flinched. ‘No, miss.’
‘And it’s not your place to defend him, either.’
‘No, miss.’
‘Remember, you’re just a servant.’ Rebecca sneered down at her. ‘I could buy you a thousand times over. You do what I say when I say, and you don’t speak back, understand?’
Bent low over her mopping, Jeni trembled and mutely shook her head. Rebecca flicked the flat of her magazine across Jeni’s back. ‘I didn’t hear you!’
‘I understand, miss,’ Jeni said quickly.
A curious smile came to Rebecca’s lips, and rolling up her magazine she smacked it lightly across the seat of Jeni’s shorts. ‘You really are a spineless little creature, aren’t you?’
‘If you say so, miss,’ Jeni replied faintly, her eyes closed, her body beginning to tremble.
Rebecca laughed contemptuously and smacked Jeni across her bottom a little harder. ‘Just a little nobody,’ she mused, and smacked again, the crisp stroke sounding even over the background music.
Jeni whimpered and bent her head lower, and Rebecca’s smile grew wider as she forgot her seasickness, momentarily lost in the fascinating spectacle of her humiliated and subservient maid. She had an unexpected new toy to play with. ‘Pull down your shorts,’ she said.
‘Miss?’
‘You heard me. I want to see your bottom bared.’
The drone of the engines and the swaying of the boat seemed to recede from Jeni’s awareness until nothing else existed but herself and Rebecca glaring masterfully down at her. Hardly daring to breathe she reached back, hooked her thumbs under the waistband of her shorts, and wriggled them down until they gathered about her knees. Her bottom flesh was still girlishly rounded and quite flawless. The pale cheeks rolled smoothly inwards to a deep valley, which curved down between her thighs to divide about the full split-peach of her pubes.
Rebecca examined the two hemispheres with clinical interest, running a sharp fingernail over the satin skin that left a white trail behind it that filled quickly with pink. Jeni whimpered at her touch, causing Rebecca’s smile to broaden.
She drew back her arm and swung the rolled magazine with even greater force at the naked and defenceless bottom, taking out her frustration on Jeni’s unresisting person. Again and again the sound of hard-rolled glossy paper striking resilient flesh rang out in the cabin. Jeni gasped and mewed under the assault, but did not move from her abject posture except for slight forward reflex jerks of her hips as each blow struck. She was totally cowed by fear and dark excitement. This was it. There was no turning back now. A new world was opening up for her...
Just then the boat bucked sharply under the impact of a high wave. Rebecca gave a sudden groan, threw the magazine aside and scrambled for the cabin’s en-suite bathroom, hand over her mouth. Jeni heard a retching from within the cubical, and with a shudder she fought down her seething emotions, pulled up her shorts, got to her feet and went to do her duty.
When she was cleaned up, Rebecca allowed Jeni to help her back to her bed. Jeni gave her some more sickness tablets, made her as comfortable as possible and returned to report her condition to Devereaux.
‘She’ll get over it,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Win or not, this time tomorrow she’ll be at the best club in Nassau. That ought to cheer her up.’
‘You’d better try to get some sleep while you can,’ Ash advised her. ‘There won’t be anything much to see for a few hours.’
Back in the privacy of her own cabin, Jeni gingerly peeled down her shorts and examined her rear in the cupboard mirror. Her whole bottom blushed a bright pink. She touched the stinging flesh tenderly, yet there was no feeling of anger and resentment within her that should by rights accompany such spiteful treatment. It just confirmed what she already knew about her private needs, a brief taste of what she most feared and yet most needed.
Where would it lead, she wondered, now that Rebecca had glimpsed her secret self? Preoccupied with her seasickness Rebecca might have forgotten the incident by tomorrow. Jeni could only wait and see. It was not something she could bring upon herself. That was not in her nature.
Jeni lay down on her bunk, not bothering to undress. The pulse of the engines sounded through the hull even louder here, so making plugs of cotton wool she stuffed them into her ears, which helped a little. She tried turning off the light, but the motion of the vessel was too disturbing in total darkness, so she left it on. Rinsing out a flannel in her tiny basin she folded it carefully and placed it over her eyes and forehead, then lay back again and tried to relax.
This time tomorrow they would all be in Nassau one way or another, she told herself. If they managed to win the race as well, then Rebecca’s temper would have mellowed and all would be back to normal. No, not quite normal, as her sore bottom attested. Such bittersweet pain. Was there more to come? She would find out tomorrow.
Tomorrow...
At some point she must have dozed, for the next thing she was aware of was a muffled howling from beyond the portholes and the cabin shaking violently. Instinctively she clutched the bedrail to stop herself being thrown to the deck even as the lights flickered. What was happening?
A fist pounded on the door and Ash’s voice bellowed, ‘Jeni! Lifejacket on and get out here now, understand?’
‘Yes, all right!’ she shouted back.
She tore the plugs from her ears and the full force of the noise hit her. A storm was shrieking and wailing about the yacht. Brilliant white light flickered through the portholes, illuminating black mountainous seas frozen in impossible peaks and troughs, followed almost simultaneously by the crack and boom of thunder that seemed to drive its way into her bones. Then the scene was wiped out as a wave washed over the porthole and pounded the hull.
In a daze Jeni struggled into her lifejacket and opened the door. The corridor was yawing and pitching wildly as the Galatea was tossed about like a toy boat in a bath. The engines were labouring under the strain one moment as they strove to make headway against the storm blast, then racing wildly as the props were lifted clear of the water.
Jeni hauled herself along by the handrails to the lower helm position. Devereaux was wedged into one of the seats, knuckles white on the wheel as he fought to keep the boat on as even a keel as possible. There was no point in distracting him by asking foolish questions. It was obvious what was happening. Jeni staggered over to the couch and tried to brace herself into its angle.
Ash appeared through the saloon supporting a dazed and white-faced Rebecca, als
o in her lifejacket. Her led her to the couch and sat her beside Jeni, closed her hand round a rail, and then took the navigator’s chair beside Devereaux. Jeni noticed that the helm dash displays were flickering wildly, throwing a kaleidoscope of colours across Ash’s sweat-beaded face.
Rebecca gathered her wits enough to scream out accusingly at Devereaux, ‘I never wanted to go on this stupid race!’
‘You thought it would be a laugh!’ Devereaux snapped back over his shoulder.
‘Argue later!’ Ash bellowed, his deep voice rising above the howling wind. ‘First we’ve got to come through this in one piece. As long as the boat holds together we’ve got a chance!’
The lightning blazed again, sending fingers of cold fire through the saloon windows. This time the thunderclap was almost deafening. The storm was right on top of them.
Rebecca whimpered. Jeni clutched her free hand and held it tight. ‘Can’t we outrun it?’ she shouted.
‘Maybe, if we could tell which way it was headed,’ Ash shouted back. ‘It blew up out of nowhere in minutes. No weather warning broadcast, nothing on the radar. Suddenly we were right in the middle of it and the equipment went crazy. I can’t even fix our position!’
The Galatea’s prow dipped even as it yawed and rolled violently to starboard.
And kept on dropping and turning.
Rebecca shrieked as they were pressed against the back of the couch. The boat was spinning round ever faster as though they were being sucked down into a whirlpool. Jeni felt herself being squeezed tighter and tighter. She could not breathe. The pressure was crushing her. She was going to die. The lightning blazed once more, illuminating the whole boat and freezing their anguished expressions in an instant of time that seemed to last forever.
Then all was blackness.