by Jaye Peaches
He caught a glimpse of her breasts as she painted her imaginary lines, the henna tattoo made them pert and gloriously enlarged. He adored the delicious curvature of each breast. Jason headed to the office, and he backtracked to fetch a large, thick blanket from the storage box.
“Come with me.” He waved a finger, and she arched her eyebrows in response. “Actually, go find something to entertain yourself. I don’t want you bored.”
Gemma returned with her Kindle. Greatly to his pleasure, she had removed the robe to reveal her nudity. Jason laid the blanket out on the floor of the office and pointed to it.
“Help yourself to cushions. Stay down there. At my feet.”
She grinned at the request. Jason booted up his laptop and began the laborious task of sorting through his e-mail by prioritising and dismissing irrelevant messages.
Gemma wriggled about, reading her novel, distracting him. Eventually, she seemed to find a comfortable position, lounging on her belly. She kept her legs parted, showing her glistening pussy. He ignored her and shifted his eyes to the monitor of his laptop.
Two of the e-mails caught his immediate attention. One from Philip, his right hand man, and the other from Anna, a senior lawyer with the company. The contents of the messages were laced with the nuances of frustration and ill-ease. Neither of them had been explicit in writing with regard to problems, knowing Jason had been receiving copies. He fancied they did not want to rile him during his holiday.
A sensation distracted him. Gemma kissed one of his bare feet.
“Sorry, Sir. Need to pee. Please, may I use the bathroom?” she said sweetly—almost too angelically, he thought.
She fluttered her eyelashes at him. He shooed her away. When she came back, Jason had managed to contact Philip by instant messenger and suggested they speak on the phone. Jason switched the call to speakerphone and leant back in his chair.
“Jason. Sorry these issues are flaring up on your holiday. Bloody typical.”
“These speculations of undisclosed assets, what have you found out?”
Philip revealed, hesitantly, that the company at the centre of the acquisition had unlisted assets. More worrying, they had declared assets they no longer held or had sold off previously. Jason could imagine Philip’s troubled face back in London.
“Go back to the due diligence, every inch of it. Check we haven’t missed anything. I don’t want to blow this open without evidence.” Jason flicked a pencil across the table. “Don’t rush, I want this done carefully.”
He glanced down at Gemma, she cocked her head to one side. The word asset had caught her ear.
“Hopefully, we’ll find an error in our figures. I would rather it came from our end,” said Philip, echoing Jason’s thoughts. “You should set Gemma to work. Why should she have all the fun! Plug in her laptop and let her check our figures!” Philip chuckled.
“She didn’t bring it. Sensible girl.”
“Shame. She should be slaving away for you, not basking in the sun.”
Jason laughed at the euphuism. Philip didn’t know she was slaving away for Jason for the duration of the holiday.
“I should put her to work at my feet!” Jason gave Gemma a poke with his foot as she rolled her eyes at him.
“Cruel man!” said Philip. “Say hi to her. Tell her she should chill out and ignore you!”
Jason rested his feet on her bottom and earned a look of mock indignation. “She can try, but she is a very dutiful wife, Philip. She wouldn’t dare ignore me.”
Philip laughed. “Let her have fun, poor girl.”
“Oh, she’s having fun. Plenty of it. How can she not? A yacht in the middle of the Med. Sunshine and beautiful scenery. Take my word for it, she is well entertained.”
They finished the call with a list of outstanding actions and a promise by Philip to e-mail Jason his findings as soon as possible. Gemma lay on her side. Her hips curved and her breasts slumped to one side, presenting a nest of generous warm delights. She gazed at him, right at his face, eyeballing him. Jason’s found his green-eyed goddess very sexy.
Jason shut the laptop lid. “Give me your Kindle.”
Gemma hesitated and then offered him her device. Jason scanned through a few pages and then put the Kindle on his desk. “Smut. You’re reading smut at my feet. No wonder you’re pushing my buttons. Fucking me with your eyes, aren’t you, my greedy slut.”
Gemma gave him a tiny grin of acknowledgement.
“Put your fingers inside. Use them. Make yourself come.” She went to kneel before him and he shook his head. “No, on your back. Spread your legs up and over.”
Gemma held her legs wide apart and her tattooed hand circled vigorously over her clit. Round and round she rotated, her painted red nails blurring, her back arched, and she groaned.
“I’m coming,” she muttered.
When it came to a swift attack, Jason was a demon for pouncing. The moment Gemma’s leg muscle spasmed and rippled, her stomach trembling, he knelt between her legs. His cock had hardened rapidly watching her masturbate. He buried himself deep inside her, and she raised her hips, inviting him to lunge deeper and harder. A hand looped about her neck, yanking back her hair and allowing him to suck hard on her exposed throat.
She shrieked. In one breath, she begged him to stop, and in the next, never to cease. Above and around her, Jason pinned her to the floor, ensuring she couldn’t escape. Her hands stretched out and clawed at the blanket while her wetness below spread about the fabric. The smell of raw sex permeated the air as it crept out of her body and slipped into Jason’s nostrils. The scent drove him to expand inside her, stretching her with his dimensions.
Sensing her impending orgasm, he drew her arms back and speared her repeatedly. Smacking her upper thighs and buttocks until they glowed red-hot and flaming, she came at the perfect moment. Tightening around his own climaxing erection, he spurted long and deep as she clung to him. Jason’s mouth let loose a string of expletives, while hers released an abrupt cry.
They lay on the floor for a while. Her eyes squeezed shut, her breaths rapid. However, Jason saw no distress or overt discomfort, and their combined natural fluids oozed out of her, making a mess of the blanket. Curled up, her breathing slowing, she appeared to have gone to sleep, which was often what happened after an intense orgasm. He extracted himself and left to change.
Coming back in fresh clothes, Jason stepped over her limp form. Lifting up the laptop lid, he carried on working as if nothing had transpired. When Gemma was ready, he would let her bathe and clean up her shambolic body. Maria was a godsend when it came to looking after her. The rapport between the two women pleased him. For now, the sight of a well-fucked Gemma, slumped and inert on the floor, added to his pleasure. She certainly wasn’t flirting with him. Jason doubted she could lift her head off the floor.
By the time she stirred, he had managed to deal with a decent chunk of outstanding work. She knelt on the floor, bemused and grubby.
“Off with you. Clean yourself up. Have a nice bath or something,” he told her.
Gemma gathered up the blanket and her playthings.
“Next time I want you in here while I work, you will, as a good submissive slave should, wait patiently. No horny book reading.”
“Yes, Sir” A little tear pathetically trickled down her face. “I thought...I pleased you.”
“You did, babe You always do.” Jason meant those words. He caught her hand and drew her naked form onto his lap. “That’s not what this is about, is it? You wanted sex this evening, and you got it, as I wanted it. If I had wanted a romantic wife, we would have spent a pleasant evening together and I would have taken you to bed to make love to you. When I want sexual relief, I choose, I decide, and I control the situation.”
Her face flushed pink at his words. Jason chuckled to himself. It didn’t take much to ignite his wife’s passions.
“You seemed pissed off with work, and I thought you needed the distraction. Sorry.”
“I don’t need the d
istraction. I wanted company and the knowledge you are there ready and waiting for me. Your availability is all I require, nothing gauche. Go and have your bath.” Jason saw her despondent expression. “I’m not cross with you, babe. I’m pointing out this isn’t about you, is it?”
Gemma exhaled slowly. “No.”
The day ended peacefully. Abandoning his work, Jason and his wife played backgammon under the mast arch of the sundeck. Moonlight glistened on the water as the yacht sailed across the sea. Between turns, Gemma sometimes gazed up at the night sky, other times, she stared down at the water. Sitting wrapped in a blanket, she gave her husband an adoring smile as she knocked another one of his counters to the middle of the board. He returned the compliment, taking two of hers out.
She won two games to his love and clapped her hands. Jason yawned. He blamed his losses on tiredness. Neither expressed an interest in further sex. The vigorous play in his office had been sufficient. Climbing in, they snuggled under the sheets. Their warm bodies spooned and joined in sleep.
Chapter 10. Debts
Day Five
Stretched out on a lounger in the aft area of the upper deck, Jason read a book. His khaki cargo shorts hung low about his hips; the blond hairs on his legs shone lighter as his skin tanned underneath. A baseball hat kept his face sheltered from the bright sunbeams, and he was content to take in the sun and smell the salt air.
Work occupied his mind, an unfortunate intrusion of thoughts constantly interrupting his leisurely reading. He substituted these unwanted thoughts with those of his wife. She would be naked up on the sundeck, her henna tattoos creating a pattern of suntan that would be revealed once the dye had faded.
The idea of temporarily marking her had come to him one day as he watched a group of Asian women walk down the street. His car was stuck in traffic, and he had time to see their hands. The rest of the bodies were covered by colourful saris. The image of Gemma with decorated hands and feet tantalised him.
His groin stirred. If he had been at work, he would have refocused his mind on his daily tasks. This day, he didn’t have to. In fact, the opposite was possible. She was up there, ready and available. Sometimes he wished they were the only ones on the yacht, allowing him to use her freely, without the precautions of avoiding the eyes and ears of the ignorant crew. He would bend her over the rails and enter her, hair flowing in the breeze as Sublime sailed serenely in the water, or better still, tie her to the railings and whip her like during the days of buccaneers and pirates.
He had always told Gemma he didn’t role-play or act out fantasies. A half-truth. He was happy to use fantasies as inspirational notions or designs for his scenes. If Sublime were a sailing yacht rather than a motor yacht, he would have lashed her to a mast and fucked her. His cock hardened and, since he was on holiday, he would do as a Master should—use his slave for his own purposes.
He tossed the book on the nearby lounger and decided to head up to the sundeck. Enrique would be up there with her. With Maria reported unwell, he had asked Enrique to provide for her needs. The man wasn’t adept at serving women, an easy observation to make. Enrique had frowned.
“What service should I provide for her?” he had said slyly.
“You are an impatient man, Enrique,” had said Jason. “Keen to have her in your hands aren’t you? You’ll wait. When I’m ready for her to be touched by another, you will have your fun. We will both have our fun.”
“I can wait.” Enrique folded his arms.
“She’s an artist. Talk about your paintings or graphic art. You don’t have to be friends, but breaking the ice with her might help. Don’t you think?”
***
The earlier massage had been reasonably agreeable, and Gemma had to keep her mind from roaming, taking her to erotic locations and images, ones that didn’t normally trouble her daydreams. Maria had been quiet and distracted, her fingers not quite as forceful or thorough.
Now Gemma wanted to sunbathe properly, unlike Jason, who hid under parasols or hats. Lying on the sundeck, on her favoured sun bed, she basked in the warm air naked and glowing with a sheen of tanning lotion. She rotated every fifteen minutes or so, to create her uniform tan. As she wriggled onto her back on one rotation, she spied Enrique standing in the archway, leaning against the bar. The presence of the man incensed her.
“What do you want, Enrique?” she snapped at him.
“I was sent to see if you had everything you required,” he said haughtily.
“Where is Maria?”
“Maria is indisposed at the moment,” he replied with a shrug. “I’m here instead of her.”
“What’s wrong with her?” said Gemma, sitting up sharply.
“Nothing that a few hours’ sleep won’t help with. She suffers with the occasional migraine.” His face remained expressionless.
“Oh. Poor thing.” Staring at Enrique, she drummed her fingers on the sun bed. “Well, I don’t need anything. So, please leave me alone.”
His lips curled up in a faint smile. “My instructions are to stay with you.”
Gemma fumed and covered her body with a towel.
Enrique strolled out from under the archway. “You can choose to ignore me, señora, or, if you wish, we keep each other company. I have your Master’s permission to be with you.”
“And now you have my permission to go away!” she said fiercely.
“I don’t obey your wishes, señora. You should know that.” He crossed his arms.
Gemma stood up and marched past him, clutching her iPod. Pausing, she turned to face him.
“You just want to ogle me for one of your perverted pictures, Enrique, don’t you?” she snarled. “So fuck off!”
She spun round and walked straight into Jason.
She stepped back, under the shade of the archway, the dimness casting her into shadows. Her heart battered her chest, both with the shock of bumping into him and because instantly she knew he had heard her curse at Enrique. With bright sunshine behind him, his face appeared in silhouette. She couldn’t see his expressions or even his ominous eyes. Sensing her fate, she dropped to her knees.
Swearing at Enrique, a servant to her husband, counted as unacceptable behaviour. His words in the car echoed about her head. She should treat the Mexican couple with respect. She was about to find out how seriously Jason took Enrique’s status.
“Apologise to Enrique,” growled Jason.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, her head turned slightly to where Enrique stood behind her.
“Not very convincing. You can do better,” Jason said coldly. “I sent him to be with you. I hoped you might want to discuss his artwork or engage him in pleasant conversation, but instead you treated him disrespectfully. His position on this yacht does not warrant insolence from you, does it?” His hands rested on his hips.
“No, Sir.” She stared at his bare feet.
“You need a lesson in humility. A reminder of your status.” Reaching down he took hold of her ponytail and proceeded to lead her along to the large square lounger.
“We’ll need to gag her, Enrique.”
The other man had followed behind. “A napkin?”
“Good.” Jason positioned her on the canopied lounger, stripping away her towel and bending her over the end.
She said nothing, lips pressed firmly together, resigned to her fate. Part of her wanted to fight back. The gesture would be futile and counterproductive. Jason bound the napkin around her mouth. She didn’t struggle, but neither did she cooperate.
“Enrique will hold your wrists.”
The Mexican clambered onto the lounger before her and crossed her wrists, gripping them tightly and pulling her up until her she was on tiptoes. Gemma closed her eyes, trying to hide the mortifying presence of Enrique.
She waited to see what Jason would do—a fuck or spank?
Breathless and flushed, one part of her wanted to be used by the two men and another part was filled with trepidation and dread that she wouldn’t be up
to the challenge. It didn’t matter about her fantasy. Jason would never permit another man to fuck her.
Gemma was grateful for the few seconds to compose herself and take the necessary deep breaths. She could hear him move about somewhere behind. A clinking of glasses, or something. She imagined a cool liquid slipping down her throat. Was that his intention, to give her a drink? She doubted it, he had already gagged her. Laying her face to one side, she rested a cheek on the soft fabric of the lounger. She waited, searching her memories. The tinkling sound was vaguely familiar. A game Jason had played before, a long time ago. She swallowed hard as she began to recall the punishment.
An intense icy sensation dripped between the groove of her buttocks, and she jumped—ice cubes.
She hadn’t anticipated he would torment her hot pussy with freezing ice. Previously, he had chosen her poor anus. In the heat of the day, the shock of the frozen water inserted into her blazing pussy made her shriek into the improvised gag.
Jason trailed each cube down the cleft of her buttocks before slipping it into her dripping hole. The intense sensation took her to the precipice of pain and pleasure.
Her eyes sprung open, and she saw Enrique grinning, not at her, but over her shoulder at Jason. Another ice cube journeyed down her spine. It felt brutally cold on her sun-drenched skin. She stamped her feet on the decking, resisting the temptation to kick the lounger. Jason slapped her bottom hard. She yelped into the makeshift gag. Other smacks followed, alternating between her buttocks. Iced and spanked, the combination sent her into a quivering mess of a near, but never realised, orgasm.
Jason’s slender fingers stretched, probed, and teased her with the slippery ice. As a coup de grace, he took one last ice cube and pressed it against her anal bud. With a squeal, she sucked it inside her, and there it rested, burning cold until it triggered a tremendous orgasm. The napkin, stuffed in her mouth, silenced her cries.
She basked in further orgasms by the time Jason finished fucking her icy interior. He gasped as he penetrated her. Wide, wet, and taut from the effects of the ice, she relished his thrusts. Water leaked out of her anus, triggering another orgasm. She felt humiliated again, especially with Enrique watching, but this time, unlike in the pool, she wallowed in the experience.
