by Jaye Peaches
Eventually, her body calmed, and it all came to strange post-coital end. For a few seconds, she fell asleep.
Waking, she curled up on her side and wiped her nose.
“Gemma?” He forced her face to one side. A solitary tear trickled down her face, wetting her cheekbone.
“Why?” she asked.
“Your orgasms are mine. You may choose to come, but I will control them for my own purpose. If I wish to ruin them, then I shall. Pain or pleasure is mine to choose. Now, be honest. Was that not an incredible orgasm I gave you?” He lay next to her.
The tear was there for a clear reason in her mind, the part that didn’t always submit rebelled and kept reminding herself not to be a victim, not to be a hostage to her body’s needs.
“Gemma?”
“I loved the orgasm, but I’m hating myself for it.” She shuddered slightly.
“Babe?” He ran his finger down the side of her face and wiped away the tear. “I want you to thrive on what I can do to your body. The pleasure you take from being controlled, not necessarily the pain. Such a thrill for me, knowing you can take what I throw at you and still send yourself into your own world of submissive ecstasy and pleasure.”
Examining the crumpled sheets of the bed, Gemma pondered, letting his words sink into her mind. “I’m a masochist. I get high on pain. That is what you are telling me.”
“Gem, why do you keep denying this to yourself? We’ve had this conversation many times, and yet, you are surprised every time I push you further and you continue to respond. I will make you a divine masochist, Gemma. A pain slut. A perfect match for me. The Dom and sub part nurtures us, the sadomasochism makes us complete. I’m not saying we should engage in more depraved sex or change our limits. They are as they should be. I’m not going back to where I came from. What we have available to us is sufficient. Yes?”
Gemma snuggled into his chest, and he kissed her hair.
“I love this braid, baby.”
His diminished erection twitched against her thigh.
“I ruined your fuck,” she said meekly. “I’m sorry. I’m ready for you, Sir. I’m yours, always yours.” She kissed his neck, where the collarbones met. “Fuck me hard, Master. Please fuck me.”
Grabbing her braid, he pulled her up onto her knees and rose to face her. His eyes pierced hers, and she dropped her own.
“Slaves don’t get to ask, do they?” He began playfully but, as he spoke, the stern tone returned. “I will fuck you hard, my needy one. I reckon we have half an hour before reaching the marina. Half an hour of fucking you senseless.”
A world rapidly approaching through their windows, lights brightening, drawing closer. He reached for the remote control and entombed them from the outside world.
“Are you ready for your Master now? No more thinking of yourself. You will forget your concerns, your impediments to my pleasure, yes? You are my slave, my collection of fuckholes, my masochist to torment, and my submissive to control. Get on your hands and knees,” he ordered, and she immediately complied. His words of domination were all it took to bring her back to him, to be his and give herself wholly.
Rough, passionate, and varied positions of sex. For half an hour, she kept her mouth shut save for her moans and pants. After he had delved into her body, he achieved his eager ejaculation over her breasts. When he had finished, he left her to bathe himself.
The scent of soap, drifting out of the bathroom, awoke Gemma from her torpor, and she stumbled into hers to shower in tepid water. Maria dried her hair, re-braiding it, and clothed her in a long summer dress of white.
***
Gemma joined Jason on the main deck, where he watched the crew tying the yacht to their slot on the marina jetty. A few had gathered to watch the arrival of Sublime, and Gemma waved at the strange faces. Relaxed and happy, she snuggled up to him, and he drew her closer. Such fantastic, kinky sex he had given her.
“Let’s dine,” said Jason. “See what Dario has to offer us this evening. We’ll visit the sights of Ceuta tomorrow.”
They dined alone in the cavernous dining salon on a mixture of Spanish and Moroccan flavours. New tastes and textures for Gemma and Jason to experience. She pulled a face at the lentil soup, nibbled on the kefta meatballs, and filled her stomach with flatbread. She moaned about the dishes being too exotic and aromatic. Jason pursed his lips when she mentioned her reticence about new foods. She stopped complaining.
At night, the yacht lit up with bright illuminations—a palace of light and glitter. After dinner, Gemma, for a while, wandered about the yacht, exploring the changes in light and shadows. The colours and smooth coolness of the decor. Soon she would ready to start painting. It was only a matter of time before she succumbed to the lure of brush and paper. She simply had to choose the first picture.
When Jason had excused himself from her company after dessert, he had suggested she write a postcard to her parents. Send one from every port they visited. During her wanderings, she found the stationary pack in the salon of the main deck had a selection of postcards with pictures of the exterior and interior of Sublime. She picked one showing their stateroom and the exterior lit up at night. Her parents only knew she’d had gone on a Mediterranean cruise on their private yacht. As Jason had kept Gemma in the dark, she did the same with her parents. They would never know about the kink.
***
Gemma rested her waist against the stern railings, staring out into the darkness, lost in her own thoughts. She framed countless drawings in her imagination, each one a version of the blue, cloudless sky and the reflection of the sun in the sea. Did she want to paint her first picture with watercolours or acrylics? A finger lightly tapped her shoulder. She jumped, snapped out of her daydreams.
“Señora? Señor Lucas sent me to find you.” Maria cocked her head towards the bow.
Gemma deposited her wine glass on the bar as she made her way to the stairwell. Maria punched the keypad, and the women ascended to the upper deck and the stateroom. Sitting in an armchair, with legs crossed and hands behind his head, waited Jason. Behind him stood Enrique, arms folded across his chest. Gemma couldn’t help but notice the bundles of rope on the bed.
“Please strip her, Maria.”
The window blinds lowered and the soft lights activated. Gemma stood dutifully before her husband while her maid removed her clothes efficiently and quickly.
“Kneel on the bed facing away from me.”
Gemma took up her position. Glancing to her left, she watched in a mirror as Enrique received Jason’s clothes: his immaculate trousers and white shirt, underpants and wristwatch. She couldn’t take her eyes off her husband. Seeing him naked immediately excited her. Fingers trembled on her lap, and her scalp tingled with invisible electricity. Caught in the act of spying, she heard him clear his throat. Quickly, she looked away and then spotted the additional ropes. Two sets dangling down from the corners of the headboard, waiting to be attached to her in some fashion. Another rush of adrenaline flooded her body. She needed to stay on top of her nerves or else she would be overwhelmed.
Jason took her breasts in his hands, cupping each warm pool of flesh. He caressed them with his fingertips until she let out a tiny moan then drew her arms behind her and bound her wrists together. Jason continued coiling the rope around her wrists, reaching nearly halfway up her elbow. Trussed with ropes about her upper arms, forcing her to bunch her shoulders behind her back, making them taut and nearly painful.
Teeth gritted, Gemma remained impassive as Jason, who, with Enrique’s assistance, bound her breasts. First, as if cocooned in a bra, they were roped above and under, pressing against her ribcage. Then they looped rope around each breast. Her soft tissues squeezed out into swollen red balls, throbbing with blood. Her cleavage accentuated and her nipples purple and rigid.
Jason gagged her. “Don’t panic. I’m right with you. I can see your face. Remember your gestures?”
Gemma nodded. A blindfold slipped over her eyes. She was well
aware both Maria and Enrique watched, their presence necessary as Jason would only undertake this kind of bondage with a monitor.
Jason lay under her, and she rested her body astride him, his hip bones on either side of her knees. Firm fingers pinched her waist, helping her position her body over his erection, and she slowly impaled herself on his stiff shaft. She gradually encased him entirely, sinking her flesh around him, stretching, grinding with the sense of friction. He groaned as she settled.
“Don’t move.”
With a cry of discomfort, Gemma felt her torso lunge forward. She understood what was happening. Each bound, melon-shaped breast was attached to the corner of the headboard, which creaked as she shifted. If she rocked forward, her pinioned arms behind her back caused her to lose her balance. If she leant back, the ropes held her breasts in place, stretching them out. The position kept her bolt upright and helpless.
“Now. Fuck me.”
Gemma swore into her gag. Her heart pounded up into her throat, more adrenaline saturated her body, and she put the invigorating effect to good use. She bounced up and down, swung her hips back and forth, squeezing his cock with a frantic display of hip gyrations and pussy clenches.
An exclamation of delight issued forth from below.
Breathe. Gemma sucked air in through her nostrils and gave into the discomforts and pained tissue. She disconnected her body from her brain. Random thoughts of nothingness, abstract images of erotica, and her own sounds of exertion came crashing together. The palette mixed and endorphins kicked in. She went to her own world of escapism. She didn’t care who stood watching or that they were having sex on a luxurious yacht off the coast of Africa. Gemma entered the world of subspace.
She had a sensation of floating off the bed, as if the ropes propelled her up to the ceiling. Was she hallucinating behind her mask? What would her eyes have seen if they had been open? If she felt pain, she didn’t interpret it as such. She continued to rock back and forth in a monotonous motion. She had no idea if she imparted any useful stimulation for Jason. She kept going, knowing he lay beneath, controlling her, watching her jive and rock. She didn’t care about anything. Her mind vacated her corporeal being. If Gemma were driving a car, she would have crashed it in a matter of seconds.
***
“Señor!” Enrique gasped.
“Yes. I know.” Jason grabbed his wife’s waist, holding her steady.
Her head tilted back. Jason watched her for a minute, her rapid breathing and drooling mouth, deciding how long to leave her in this state.
A picture of bondage beauty. With her breasts pulsating and gloriously enlarged, shoulders twisted behind and arms straight back. His diva of pain and lust. Through his blood, adrenaline coursed, warming him. He wanted to linger in the mood before he had his orgasm and the sensation left his body. The power and strength of control he had over her intoxicated him. He wanted to wallow in the elixir of their session and lose himself in it.
His hands held her, helping her keep the rhythm. Together, they worked, and with each thrust, he journeyed towards his climax. Her feverish moans invited him to his conclusion.
“Oh, fuck!” yelled Jason as he achieved his orgasm with force, bucking up and down beneath her splayed pelvis. His chest muscles tightened, and his fingers squeezed her waist, pinching the skin between his fingers.
He allowed himself only a few minutes to enjoy its aftermath. His wife needed him. Gemma stood in danger of sustaining injury while lost in her trance, and she had to be brought back gently. Easing his dwindling cock from inside her, he manoeuvred from under her body and, with Enrique’s help, unbound her and removed the gag and blindfold, massaging her shoulders and wrists. Her eyes tightly shut, she seemed ignorant of their actions. Her breasts released, she let out a muted scream with the rush of blood circulating back around. Jason’s strong fingers alleviated her strained groin until Maria brought a bowl of warm water and bathed between the legs.
“Babe?” Jason whispered in Gemma’s ear. “Come back. You’ve been in your own world. You need to look at me.” His voice strident, commanding, and she opened her eyes.
“Ow!” She grimaced. “Oh, fuck. I don’t want t—” She struggled against him.
“Leave us,” he barked at the other two.
He held her tight, embraced and swathed about her aching body. She came down from her vacant place and began to regain her composure. She let him kiss her, his tongue gently caressing her sore flesh. He called her sweet things and, as they knotted their bodies about each other, he grew large and hard again. She held his shaft and licked.
“For you, babe.” His hand sought out and found her clitoris. This time she didn’t drift away but joined him a spiralling climax of passionate lovemaking. For the rest of the night, they slept, arms and legs intertwined.
***
Enrique and Maria left them on the disorderly bed to recover. Enrique had already composed the new picture in his mind. The graphic, cartoonish drawing of an anonymous, make-believe couple engaged in erotic bondage. Her breasts would be augmented to a mammoth size, her shoulders practically dislocated. Her skin covered in stripes and welts. His muscles would be bulging, hands plucking hard on the chains attached to her nipple clamps. His subscribers liked the exaggerated poses—the liberty he took with his pen and paints. Little did they know how close the picture was to reality.
Chapter 8. Henna
Day Three
Gemma and Jason awoke late by their standards—eight a.m. They laughed at the messy bed with the scattered ropes still attached to the headboard.
She knelt on the bed, arms held out before her, palms up. Jason checked her over, tracing his finger along the route of the ropes. She suppressed a giggle; his gentle fingers tickled. The marks on her wrists had nearly faded. She didn’t have to worry about wearing long sleeves if they went out.
“Um. The marks here will take a while to go. A day, I should think.” He rubbed the ribs under one breast, and she felt a slight soreness.
Inspection complete, she stretched out on the bed, flexing her feet and toes. She wondered what he had planned for the day.
“Do you plan to fuck me, or may I bathe?” she asked.
His eyes flashed. “Yes, take a bath after breakfast. I’m hungry. Then you can have your massage, can’t you?” He arched a brow.
“Yes, Sir.” She saluted. Her mood remained buoyant following a good night’s sleep. Determined to stay invigorated, she bounced off the bed, pirouetting on her toes towards the bathroom, wriggling her bottom as she went.
“I think that deserves a small spanking, don’t you? Something for later.”
His laughter echoed about the room.
They ate breakfast aboard Sublime, away from the prying public. Gemma re-arranged the cutlery, straightening the fork and knife, aligning them neatly next to the place mat, checking with her thumb the distances between objects. Picking up the napkin, she unfolded it, shook it under the table then refolded as if she were playing at origami.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I feel restless after last night.”
“We’ll be walking around Ceuta’s market.” He sipped his thick black coffee with relish. “You went off with the fairies last night.”
“I assumed so. I don’t think I’ve been that deep before.”
“No lingering aftereffects? I didn’t let you go off for too long.”
“I’d no concept of time.” Her shoulders ached, and her breasts felt mildly tender, but, otherwise, she had no ill effects from the bondage. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Esteban approaching from the galley with fresh coffee.
Jason waited for the man to clear the empty plates from the dining table then continued. “Enrique believed I was edgeplaying with you. I had to placate him this morning. He thinks you weren’t up to it, that you’re too delicate for me.”
Enrique’s remarks ruffled Gemma’s pride. “If you take me to the edge, it will be fine by me,” she said, sticking her chin
out.
Jason frowned. “We don’t edgeplay, Gemma. If you want to safe-word, you should. Don’t let me think otherwise,” he said sternly, blue eyes glowing.
She quickly backtracked. “I’m just saying I trust your judgement. I don’t want to edgeplay. It’s not necessary for us.”
“Good. The morning is warming up, and I want to lunch out.” He pulled back her chair, took her elbow, and drew her into his arms. “Bath. Massage. Go. Hurry.” He pecked at her lips after each word. As she turned to leave, her bottom caught a slap. A hard one, she noted. A reminder of what he had mentioned earlier.
After her bath, she descended to the main deck, took a deep breath and entered the beauty treatment room. No Maria. Only Jason sitting in the solitary chair. She walked past the massage table, stood before him with hands clasped behind her back.
Jason raised his eyebrows. “Should you be dressed?”
Slipping out of her clothes, she nearly rolled her eyes at him when he patted his lap. She wanted to resist a little, show him some sass, but daren’t. Something about his pose, the stern expression, and the finger drumming on the armrest stopped her. Her pussy clenched instantly as she lowered her hips over him. He adjusted her position, trailed a finger down the crack of her buttock cheeks, and gave her bud a tickle. Gemma wriggled appreciatively. The gentle prelude ended with the first smack of his hand on her bottom.
The spanking remained erotically charged throughout. His fingers teased her sensitive parts between firm slaps of his hand. A tickle of anus, a pinched of her labia, or a grab of her fleshy buttocks. After a warm-up over his lap, she stretched out on the massage table with a pillow under her hips.
Jason took advantage of various items lying around the room. Opening cupboard doors and drawers, he rummaged about while she propped her head on an elbow, filled with a sense of trepidation at what he might find. A plastic spatula and a wooden hairbrush. He alternated, whacking for a few smacks with one before switching to another. She squirmed, baulking at the stinging spatula. He rested a hand on her lower back, holding her steady. Burying her head in her arms, she absorbed the firm strikes of the hairbrush and relished the kinder strokes of his hand, which moved across her burning cheeks, tempering the pain.
