The Gift of Shame (27 page)

Panicked, she felt herself swallowing water even as the fire between her legs intensified. When he lifted her gasping from the water and allowed her to breathe, she used much of the breath to beg mercy, but he held her transfixed and pounded even deeper into her.

Sobbing, even as the fire within her grew more intense, she had a massive orgasm as she imagined herself fighting for her life where only his pleasure could save her. When he relented and waded them both back to shore, she was once more borne down onto the beach where the sand welcomed her by forming a perfectly shaped base to their final debauch. Still lodged deep inside her, she felt him surge, felt him throb and begin to move and, desperate to contain him this time, wound her legs about him, but to no avail. Once more he was pumping his warm seed onto her belly, leaving her feeling distraught and cheated.

Exhausted, she lay for a moment, eyes closed, and awaited his comforting embrace, but when, not feeling him close, she opened her eyes, he was already walking away towards his boat. ‘Damn you!’ she screamed after him. ‘Go to hell!’

The man didn’t bother to look back to her until, standing in his boat, his hand already on the rope that would raise the sail,
he
waved her to come forward. Not knowing where he might take her she came forward and climbed into the boat, looking up at him wide-eyed and feeling entirely bereft of free will.

The sail, once raised, immediately filled with the offshore breeze and the tiny dinghy moved smoothly forward into the night waters of the lagoon.

Looking round she saw, not without a pang of disappointment, that he was returning her to the yacht. Looking back she saw him pointing into the moon-silvered waters. ‘Shark!’ he said. ‘Dangerous to swim.’

Suddenly terrified, Helen gazed down into the clear waters which she now saw as filled with menace. ‘Sharks?’ she asked the man, hollow voiced, and then swallowed hard as she saw him nod. Aware that only thin wooden planks separated her from a nightmare, she wished away the distance between the frail craft and the safety of the yacht.

As that extravagant craft loomed larger she saw this return as almost a metaphor for her own state of mind. Out here, distanced from civilisation, was a primitive and savage world while the yacht now took on the aspect of sanctuary and safety. Only her stomach quelled at the price she might be expected to pay for readmission.

When the boat nudged gently against the lowered gangway of the yacht, she scrambled for it half expecting the menacing shark to leap up in the tiny gap between the bobbing dinghy and the gangway. So intent was she to put distance between her and the monsters of the deep that by the time she turned to wish her mystery man farewell she saw his dinghy had already slid away and was headed for the gap in the reef.

She was startled to hear Jeffrey quietly calling to her and, turning, saw him leaning anxiously over the rail just above her head. ‘I was watching for you,’ he said, as he helped her
up
onto the decking. ‘I meant to bring a boat for you when you were ready to come back. Did you know a shark was spotted in the lagoon this afternoon?’

Staring at him her mind was doing loops. Was this to be the only question he was going to ask? ‘You knew?’ she countered. ‘You knew and didn’t tell me?’

‘I didn’t know until after you’d reached the beach. I was worried as hell that you might try to swim back.’

Knowing that Jeffrey must have seen the fisherman, she felt embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured. ‘What I did was an act of madness.’

‘The swim in shark-infested waters?’ he asked.

She shook her head. ‘Going at all. I’m sorry.’

Relieved to see the smile that lit his face, she went on. ‘It’s over now,’ she murmured, as she went gratefully into his welcoming arms.

‘Not quite,’ he murmured. ‘There’s still your forfeit to pay.’

17

THE DISCREET VIBRATION
of the ship in motion woke Helen. It was close to midday as she rose from the bed and drew back the blind that masked the long windows to look out onto the startling close passage of the water. Seeing the ocean at almost window level, and understanding that where she stood was actually below the sea level, reminded her of the shark in the lagoon, which changed her perception of the ocean from a thing of amorphous beauty into a viscous mass, masking the frightening savagery within its depths.

Pressing her head hard against the thick glass of the screening window she craned her head to look backwards, hoping to catch one last glimpse of the island. But there was nothing to be seen but the swell of the ocean as the yacht carved its disdainful way forward. Just for a moment she felt uneasily undecided which of John Milton’s titles might best express her feelings – was it
Paradise Lost
or
Paradise Regained
? Only the day would tell.

As she showered and dressed, the intangible uneasiness she had felt on waking grew in her. There was a feeling of absence. Tsai had not come to attend her, she had seen nothing of Jeffrey and, as she emerged onto the main deck, she could almost imagine she was alone on the yacht. It was only the ever-attentive Korean stewards who welcomed her into the dining room that reassured her that the yacht had not become another
Marie Celeste
.

Having brought her a chilled, delicious melon, satayed
prawns
and a green salad, she was still savouring the heavy white wine and craving coffee when a totally naked Tsai came padding silently to her side. ‘You must come with me now,’ the girl spoke in a voice so soft it had been almost a sigh.

‘Where?’ she asked.

‘I must prepare you for this evening.’

Tsai’s use of the word ‘prepare’ left little doubt about what she was to be prepared for. With the promise of excitement came also the darker shadows of doubt. ‘Where’s Jeffrey?’ she asked of the girl.

Tsai shook her head in a gesture that might have been meant to convey that she didn’t know or had been instructed not to say. Suddenly the earlier expectation of coffee had become a craving along with an alien urge to smoke a cigarette – a habit she had only experimented with in her early teens and then, she imagined, dismissed from her life. Now it was back, searing her tongue and coating her throat, unsummoned from wherever childish impulses are consigned. The reason became apparent when she reached for the table bell that would summon the stewards, and saw her hand shaking. Excitement, like warmed molasses, had seeped into her blood and was causing her heart to race along with her mind. ‘I want some coffee,’ she told the waiting girl.

Tsai again shook her head. ‘All the men crew have been sent below and must not come out again until tomorrow.’

This news caused a convulsive shudder to pass from head to toe and, standing, Helen looked around the ship even more aware of the ‘absence’ she had sensed earlier. While the yacht clipped smartly through the ocean there was no sign of the ever-attentive deck crews. Pausing, uneasily aware of the unique isolation surrounding her, she felt the welcome onrush of helplessness. Knowing she could do little to protest at whatever might be about to be done to her, rendered her guiltless. Standing
there
, Tsai anxiously awaiting her reaction, she realised the care with which she had been prepared for this moment. It was as if Jeffrey had known from the outset that she was going to be presented with this test and had gently accustomed her to accept it when the time came. She turned to look into Tsai’s porcelain face and finally smiled her acceptance of that which she was now convinced was inevitable. ‘Let’s go,’ she said.

Beaming with relief, Tsai led the way from the dining room and down the stairway that led to the main stateroom deck. Confident that she was to be taken to her own cabin she was a little surprised when, at the base of the stairs, Tsai turned left instead of going straight on.

Tucked away, almost under the stairs, was another stateroom.

Tsai opened the door and stood aside to allow a now curious Helen to precede her.

Stepping into the darkened cabin the first word that came to Helen’s mind was incongruity. The room was furnished more like a medieval chamber than a space on the modern hedonistic machine that was the yacht. Chains and leather lined every wall, while the whole place was lit with what, at first, seemed guttering candles but turned out to be cleverly disguised flickering lamps. None of these accoutrements to bizarre pleasure took her eye more keenly than the human element in the room. Strapped naked to a wooden cross was the yacht’s owner – Martinez. His eyes, hugely rounded, were fixed on Helen as she stood staring at him but, she saw, his silence was explained by the leather thong that gagged his mouth.

Propelled forward by an instinct she recognised as having been instilled in her during her visit to Madame Victoria’s, Helen came to stand immediately before the man with his deliciously desperate eyes. Between her and this man, with whom she had barely previously spoken, sprang an immediate
affinity
. The light sarong that was all she wore became constricting so, tugging at the knot that held the sarong, she loosened it and let it slip to the floor where Tsai immediately moved to pick it up. The widening of Martinez’s eyes as he looked on her honey-coloured body was all the goad she needed to go further.

Looking directly into his eyes her hands sought out his hardening flesh. ‘Have you been whipped?’ she heard her huskily toned voice ask and, when she saw his nodded reply, felt enveloped in an intensity of excitement that scorched her body and threatened her soul. Reaching forward she kissed his gagged mouth, then his throat. An explosive grunt escaped his constrained mouth as her lips sought out the matted hair on his chest and nipped affectionately at his nipples.

All consciousness of another world – even of her surroundings, and the excited, cautionary, protests of Tsai – fled from her mind as her hands gave him pleasure, so paying tribute to their companionship of pain. Even as she worked and teased she understood that once, before finding total freedom on the island, she would never have dared do this without Jeffrey’s prior sanction and she was engulfed in a soaring sense of triumph.

Standing before this helpless man she was her own arbiter, with no need of excuse or alibi to explain her self-indulgence. This too, she appreciated, had been gifted her by Jeffrey, but what followed, as Martinez erupted convulsively into her manipulating hands, came, unheralded, from some dark resource of her own mind.

Carefully conserving and guarding every drop of him in her hands, Helen rose and looking at Martinez squarely and without shame, directly into his eyes, offered up his cock’s harvest to his lips. ‘Clean them,’ she told him. The act seemed to pleasure Martinez enormously. His eyes closed in sublime acceptance while his grunts were far from protests.

A kind of madness gripped Helen as shock-waves of arousal sought out every last nerve in her body. She trembled with excitement as she reminded herself that a man stood helpless, his eyes pleading for savagery. It was as if she could read his mind. How well she had been taught the joy of submission – of surrendering free-will to the whim of another. She knew that Martinez’s mind would be racing with expectation of the surprise and shock of her inflicted pain. His silent demands begged not to be disappointed. Still looking directly into his eyes she found herself wondering by what avenue Martinez had come to this knowledge. She knew only too well her own guilt and her own needs and was, conversely, angered.

‘Bring me a whip,’ she murmured to the attendant Tsai.

For a moment Tsai hesitated and Helen knew the Chinese girl was about to protest but seeing Martinez’s eyes lit with expectation she spoke again. ‘Do it!’ she insisted.

Tsai moved to the display of instruments pinned to the walls and, after a momentary pause, returned with a long pliable stick of many tails. The moment Helen’s hands closed about the leather stem a surge of live power raced upwards from her closed fist to lay siege to her quaking body. At the same moment she was assailed by the knowledge that having come this far, having raised expectations, she must not disappoint and her confidence wavered. Needing sanction she spoke to Tsai. ‘Loosen the gag,’ she told the girl and was momentarily relieved of the oppression of his eyes, so full of pleading.

Gasping with the relief of his mouth’s bondage, Martinez smiled on Helen. ‘You are so beautiful, mistress.’

The title, spoken so fervently, shocked Helen. Was that how he saw her? A dominant woman able to deal with him as she chose? Standing there she knew her eyes were filled with fire but her mind was full of doubts. She felt she was to be tested by this man far more than she had ever been with Jeffrey.
For
a moment she yearned for the simplicity of submission just as Martinez’s eyes begged her now. She was to find the hesitation fatal as the doubts flooded in to quench the fires that had so recently been lit.

‘I’m sorry,’ she told Martinez. ‘I cannot be your mistress.’

His eyes clouded with disappointment. Martinez pleaded, ‘Please, mistress, I am helpless before you – you give me your pain.’

Turning away from the oppressive eyes, Helen shook her head. ‘I cannot hurt you. I do not love you.’

A warm laugh startled Helen and, turning, she was in time to see Carla stepping through a door which had previously seemed merely a panel of mirror set into the wall. ‘Well said!’ Carla was smiling as she came forward to embrace the surprised Helen. ‘Isn’t it fortunate that I
do
love you?’

‘Were you watching me?’ Helen asked.

‘Of course I was. Why else should I arrange your temptation?’ Carla smiled. ‘You fulfilled my every expectation. I have always maintained that the submissive mind, given time, makes the best master. Jeffrey disagreed but you have proved me right and him wrong. Congratulations.’

‘Jeffrey saw?’

‘Everything!’ cried Carla then, leaving Helen to absorb this, Carla’s eye lighted on Tsai. ‘You, however, have disappointed me. Why were my orders not carried out?’

As Tsai stood trembling and incoherent, Helen stepped forward. ‘What orders?’