Judged by Him (3 page)

The bridge was a bank of confusing computer screens, buttons, and flashing lights. Captain McKenzie rose to greet them from his a swivel chair perched high.

“Mr. Lucas. Mrs Lucas. I should remind you before we leave tomorrow there is the obligatory safety talk.”

“Safety is important, Captain. Of course, my wife and I shall listen attentively.”

The tour moved on. Jason stopped in the lobby area. In the centre of the main deck was a door with a numeric keypad. He punched in a four-digit code.

“Only Enrique and Maria have free access to our deck. Everyone else has to ring the doorbell, so to speak. Unless it’s an emergency or we are onshore.” Jason opened the door to a stairwell leading to the upper deck.

Jason gave Gemma the key code, which she quickly memorised. Upstairs, she entered another lavish lobby with the uniform gilt decorations and marble floors, which continued throughout the private deck.

“To the aft is an outside dining area.” Jason pointed to a glass door.

They stood in the owner’s salon and bar. Off the central space were a mahogany-furnished office and a small pantry with dumbwaiter to the main galley.

Forward was the stateroom. The spacious compartment, complete with panoramic windows semi-circling around the bow of the yacht, stunned Gemma. The emperor-sized bed stood centre stage, its large backboard of wood and marble, providing a privacy screen when entering the room. Chest of drawers lined each side of the cabin and in the bay of the bow windows, sofas and armchairs. Two bathrooms adorned either side of the stateroom, each decorated with mirrors, marble, and gilt-edged tiles. His, with a shower and dressing area, her larger one with a Jacuzzi, shower, and generous closets and dressing table.

After two years with Jason, Gemma had become accustomed to luxury, but to have it all on such a grand scale and in immaculate condition impressed. She swooned, if only emotionally. At the base of their bed, a glass-topped low table and above it a separate light fitting. To an innocent bystander, perfectly acceptable furnishings. Jason placed the contents of his jacket pocket on the glazed surface and grinned at Gemma as she lined up the ceiling with the table.

“Yes, you’ve guessed. An additional feature required only by me, the owner. It disappears when chartered.”

Jason retrieved a remote from the bedside cabinet.

He pressed one button, and blinds sheathed the windows, casting the room into semi-darkness. Another button and the lights came up gradually. Then the ceiling compartment slid open to reveal a ring and pulley.

“I told you I was going to string you up, didn’t I?” Jason tapped the table. “Tucked away in this room is a padded top for this. So don’t worry about the glass.”

The remote activated and everything returned to normal lighting and style.

Gemma gulped and stood nervously, tapping a foot repeatedly. Enrique and Maria arrived with their luggage and Esteban with a tray of refreshments.

“We will have the food on the sundeck, please,” announced Jason.

He led her up the stairs to the flybridge, complete with a mast arch in the centre to cover the bar and yet another dining table. A cascading pool to the aft with sun loungers and, to the bow, a large lounger. It resembled a bed: square shaped and sheltered by a fixed white canopy draped over it like a tent and anchored with poles.

“It can get hot out on the ocean. This keeps the sun off all day.” Jason settled on the lounger, and Gemma lay down next to him.

Her heart thumped with excitement.

“All this space, just for us,” she marvelled. “I can’t get my head around it.”

Enrique appeared with the tray of refreshments and laid it on a low table next to lounger.

Jason nodded in dismissal. “Thank you. We won’t need anything else for now.”

Enrique retreated.

“Grapes, bread?” Jason asked. “The Spanish eat late. It will be a while before we have to leave for dinner.”

Gemma dined on bread and salami, quaffing the fresh orange juice. She examined the surroundings, twisting about while popping grapes into her mouth. The lounger reminded her of a four-poster bed, the kind Jason favoured in his dungeon.

“This is a fuck pad for you, isn’t it?” she blurted. “The canopy, the seclusion.”

“We’re not exactly overlooked up here, Gem. Until we’re at sea, anyway. Yes, the canopy provides shelter from the sun. But you’ve guessed correctly. An innocuous arrangement to a charter guest, not to us—the support poles come in very useful. Speaking of the sun, make sure you use plenty of lotion. On this deck, you bathe nude. I don’t want any of those white strap marks or a pale arse on you. Nice and even all over. Don’t overdo it though.” He slapped her bottom as she lounged on her belly. “I don’t want a bronzed goddess. A golden tan will do.”

“Do I get a bronzed god?” She sniggered.

“You’ll get what you’re given. As usual,” he replied with another hard slap.

She didn’t mind. At that moment, only one thing occupied her mind. Sex. Driven by her insatiable libido, she was soaked below. Uncomfortable in her long shorts, she crossed her legs to give herself relief and rested her head on her arms. She would have to wait until they were at sea before they could use the lounger. The bustle and noise of the marina reminded her they were not alone.

Jason prodded her. “Let’s get below before we turn into a peep show.”

She agreed, and they returned to the stateroom to unpack. While Gemma broke the ice with Maria by discussing matching outfits and garments, Jason showed Enrique the contents of one holdall.

Enrique grinned at the collection. “A fine selection,” he commented. “And the rope is of good quality. Not that I expect you to use anything else.” He ran his hand down the fibres.

“Find a home for this lot, Enrique. A locked drawer. I don’t want my wife to know what I have in store for her. She may not like surprises; however, I like watching her response.” Jason patted him on the back.

Jason made his way to the office and began linking his laptop and other devices to the vessel’s Internet connections. He leant back in his chair and waited for the devices to boot and attempt to talk to each other.

His hand drifted to his crotch. There had been movement down there earlier; he had felt it lying next to Gemma on the flybridge. He couldn’t fail to notice her crossed legs and fidgeting hips. So desperate for sex, she had to comment about the hidden on-board facilities he had specified and fitted when he’d purchased the yacht. That night, they would dine out, and she would be stuffed with food and fatigued by the late hour. He would keep her waiting until the next day. Simply seeing the error messages on his laptop monitor suppressed his desires. There would be a period of frustration while he kicked his computer into action. She would have to learn patience.

Gemma had tested Jason in the car on the way over from the airport. Her silly remark about a handmaiden had riled him. Not the word itself. It had come off the top of her head, a throw-away term. What bothered him was her fretting about the presence of Enrique and Maria and their role as servants. She doubted the definition, and she had every reason to wonder at their presence.

The Mexicans were a kinky couple like them, and Gemma suspected Enrique and Maria would be doing more than laying out their clothes and serving food. His wife wouldn’t be forced to do anything she didn’t wish to do. If, however, she kindled it, nurtured, and acknowledged the liking, then Jason would let her. No man might have sex with his wife, but he’d never had any issues with women using each other if they did it at his command and with him in control of the situation.

The necessity of the little punishment was unfortunate. Jason sincerely wanted to avoid a major one. Such an action would complicate and derail his plans for the next three weeks. She had to be supremely compliant and content, willing and adventurous. All being well, she would push her limits naturally, and he would awaken the hidden desires that lurked in her loins.

An hour passed, and he went to find her. She wasn’t on the upper or sun decks, so he sent Enrique to find her.

“Tell her I want to see her.”

***

The unpacking completed, Gemma compiled a small list of toiletries she required. She handed the list to Esteban, whom she found on the main deck. She had also spoken to the chef who had shown her a typical menu for the week. Noting the breakfast menu, she asked for bagels and maple syrup to be made available. The request wasn’t a problem, Dario had assured her in his strongly accented English.

In Gemma’s presence, the crew spoke English, but behind the closed doors of the lower deck, where the crew congregated, she suspected everyone spoke Spanish.

“Señora?” Enrique appeared in the galley. “Señor Lucas has asked to see you. Straight away.” He stared directly at Gemma, his intense gaze unnerving her.

For a brief moment, she paused. She didn’t like Enrique summoning her as if she were at his beck and call. He was the messenger, but his tone hadn’t been deferential enough, especially in the presence of the crew. The awkwardness of the bizarre hierarchy was kicking in. She wanted guarantees from Jason that Enrique wasn’t anything but a crew member with regard to her.

***

“Where have you been?” Jason snapped as Gemma entered his office.

“The galley. Adding a few items to the breakfast menu. Your favourites,” she gritted out.

“Stay away from the lower deck. Fraternizing with the crew is unnecessary. There is nothing on that deck for us except the heated pool and water-sports gear. Understood?”

“I understand,” she replied cautiously.

“Over here at my feet.” He snapped his fingers.

She hesitated, making the most of what was possible within the limits of what he would tolerate. She knelt at his feet, taking her time to place her hands in position.

“When we are on this deck, I shouldn’t have to ask, should I?” His hackles rose at her sulkiness.

“No. Sir.” Petulant tone.

“Right. Tell me what is pissing you off before you piss
me
off even further. I’ve spent an hour trying to get my computer to bloody work, and you are adding to my displeasure rapidly.” Jason slammed the laptop lid down.

“Nothing, only….” Gemma slid down a slippery slope into the bottomless pit of her own making. “I didn’t like the way Enrique spoke to me.”

“What do you mean? Did he call you by your first name?” Jason frowned.

“No.”

“Well?” He contemplated taking Gemma over his knee; his palm itched to spank her and end her stroppy manners.

“The way he spoke to me felt like a command, not a request. That’s all.”

“You’re being oversensitive, Gemma. Childish. Like you were in the car. Do you want another punishment?” He considered the necessity to make her snap out of grouchiness.

“No, of course not,” she sighed.

“Since you’re acting like a child, I’ll treat you like one. Go stand in the corner. Arms boxed behind you. Don’t move.”

She folded her arms behind her, elbows bent and hands cupping the joints. Every movement deliberate and laboured. Jason needed considerable self-control to keep his hands to himself, and with a wry smile, he realised a response was entirely what she wanted. If he touched her, even to punish her, she would have his attention. Worse, he might be tempted fuck her or use her in a sensual way. She didn’t mind whether he gave pain or pleasure. She was busting a gut to have him all over her.

My insatiable, greedy little sub!

Jason cupped his hands around the back of his head and tilted the chair back. A comfortable seat, but he anticipated he would have to a work for lengthy periods while his wife sunbathed or enjoyed the scenery. She could stew in her juices, literally, and wait.

“Tomorrow, you can enjoy a nice massage with Maria. I hope that will put you in a better frame of mind. You will also be waxed and shaved daily, and Maria will give you a massage every day. Oh, you can start the vacation by having an enema, too.”

Her body tensed at the request.

“I want you ready for me, at all times, whether I’m in the mood or not.” Even from the distance of his desk, Jason could see the signs of defiant rigidity, her shoulders squared and her fingers clenched.

“My stipulation is to be
obeyed
. In fact, I shall come and witness your treatment. Make sure it is carried out correctly and appropriately. I want you thoroughly cleaned out. Who knows what I might decide to stick up your bum. There are probably lots of things lying about on this vessel that could be accommodated by your luscious arsehole,” he tormented her. “Perhaps I can ask the crew, a competition to find the most interesting item to stuff you with. Keep them entertained.”

In a moment of absent-mindedness, Gemma kicked the wall. He shot across the room. Spinning her around to face him, he pinned her wrists above her head and loomed over her.

“You agreed, did you not, on the jet?”

She couldn’t escape his grasp nor breathe naturally. She stared up into his blue eyes. Captured in the corner of the room, she waited for him to answer his own rhetorical question.

“A sex slave, not just a little subbie, but my own private slut to enjoy. You’ve practically begged for it ever since I told you we were going away for three weeks. Three weeks—I don’t think you appreciate what it means, do you?” He kept his tone level.

She shook her head. Gemma could have no idea what the cruise would entail since Jason had kept his holiday plans close to his chest.

He managed to rip off a button on her shorts as he yanked them down, dragging her knickers down, too. One of his hands took Gemma under the chin, tilting her head backwards. He plunged two fingers of the other deep inside her drenched hole. Forcing his hand up until he came close to fisting her, he held her there briefly while she melted about him, glazed eyes half-closed. Withdrawing his fingers, he let her lick them clean of her copious juices with long lashes of her tongue.

“You will wait, my impatient whore. I’ve no intention of fucking your ravenous cunt today. You will demonstrate how appreciative you are of me first. I’m fed up with your attitude,
wanting
me, and doing everything you can to entice me. I decide, you slut. These fuckholes will be used when I wish, when I want them, as befits their owner,” he hissed at her. “If you chose to come, you’d best show your gratitude. What do you have to say to me?”