John had just finished inputting the way points in the navigation computer and reconfirming the latitudes and longitudes on the paper charts. “All done, Captain.”
“Good, John. When is the pilot boarding?” The heavy traffic and unpredictable currents in the harbor made the boarding of a harbor pilot a safety necessity. While Con was an experienced captain, and John was an excellent navigator, neither of them had the encyclopedic knowledge of the nautical charts for the entire New York Harbor system that the Sandy Hook harbor pilot carried in his memory.
“He will be aboard by eight o’clock, departure at nine o’clock.”
Captain Constantine Cortelis stood back from the console. He had gone over the charts and the proposed course for the twenty-two day New York to Montréal to New York cruise that would take them north along the Eastern Seaboard, up the St. Lawrence River, to Montréal and back. His navigator and the chief mate and second-in-command had also reviewed them in detail, and all three senior officers had signed off.
They would be sailing down the Hudson River, through Upper New York Bay past the Statue of Liberty, through the Verrazano Narrows out into Lower New York Bay, around the Rockaway Peninsula, and east out into the Atlantic Ocean before turning north along the eastern coast to arrive in Newport, Rhode Island at ten o’clock the next morning.
In his fifteen years at sea, Constantine Cortelis had filled all the various positions on board numerous vessels from captain right down to able-bodied seaman. He had sailed on all different kinds of vessels including oil tankers, container ships, cruise ships, and large private yachts. As a member of the Cortelis shipping family, his credentials were impeccable.
Con was enjoying the position as captain of the three-hundred-foot, newly renovated, state-of-the art super yacht. Not only did the Golden Dolphin suit his professional needs at the present, but the fact that the ship hosted BDSM cruises in the refitted dungeon and theme rooms aboard was the candle on top of the cake. Con, at thirty-eight, was a Master Dom who found the array of passengers and crew willing to bottom for him a constant delight.
Chapter Seven
After Jean-Claude had left the dungeon, Morgan took Harper’s arm and led her out into the passageway. “How about a drink in my suite?”
“Okay. I’m a little wrung out. That was intense. A brandy would be good.”
When the doors to the master suite had closed behind them, Morgan sat Harper down on a sofa in the living room. He walked over to the credenza housing the bar and poured an inch of the very excellent aged brandy into crystal snifters. He sat down beside her. “That was an impressive performance, but something was missing—emotion.”
“That’s not true. I give my all to every scene. I didn’t want to let Jean-Claude get too invested. It wouldn’t be fair to him.”
“Harper, I want you to do a scene with me. I think there’s a whole other level you need to discover.”
“You mean you’ll bottom for me?” Her expression told him she was astounded.
He laughed. “No, Harper, you’ll bottom for me.” He gazed into her eyes, compelling her to submit. “Think of it as a learning experience. It will make you a better Domme. You’ll understand what it feels like to be helpless, the one on the bottom.”
“No need. I very well understand what it feels like to be at someone else’s mercy, and I don’t plan to ever be there again. I never abuse my subs.”
“Then maybe I can teach you to trust. I don’t see much of that in your eyes.” He could see she was confused and uncertain. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her ruthlessly, putting every ounce of emotion he had into it and drawing out every ounce of emotion she had as well. He drove his tongue into her mouth and dueled with hers until she was subdued. When he pulled back, he brushed some silky black hair back from her face. “Let me do this for you, Harper. I think you really need to let go, let some bad things out. Maybe what’s bothering you really needs to see the light of day.”
Over the last several days they had spent together, he had watched her carefully. He knew there was something under the surface that was eating at her. Despite her success as a trial attorney and her skill as a Domme, there was something missing. He had noticed both at Le Club and aboard the Golden Dolphin that while Harper engaged with her subs, she did not allow them to engage with her. He had never seen her have sex or allow one of them to provide her pleasure. The D/s relationship should be a two-way street, and Harper seemed to only go one way.
“Okay, Harper, talk to me. What’s going on in that excellent mind of yours? Surely you can see that something is wrong with this picture.” He waited patiently while she obviously tried to avoid the issue.
“Nothing is wrong. This is just the way I choose to be. I’m the Domme. It’s my decision.” She looked hesitantly past his shoulder but not into his eyes.
“Well, I’m the Dom, and I say you need to talk about this honestly. As far as I can see, you are only living half the lifestyle—and maybe just half a life. I want to change that.”
“Do you really think that I’ll bottom for you? Not going to happen, Morgan. I didn’t struggle all my life to get where I am just to backpedal. It’s taken me years to come as far as I have, and I’m not going back.”
Morgan thought that there was obviously something deeply wrong here. “It wouldn’t be backpedaling. It would be moving forward.”
“I can’t. I won’t.”
She looked scared to him, but he knew he had to keep pushing her. “I’m asking you to trust me. You asked me to trust your decisions in the courtroom. Now, I’m asking you to trust mine in the dungeon. Can’t you do that for me? Just try it. You’ll have your safe word.” He looked deeply into her eyes, and he could see her fear of letting go, of letting someone else make the decisions.
“Listen, Morgan, you don’t know anything about me. You can’t know what I need.”
“Well, then tell me. I’m willing to listen. There’s a lot more to a D/s relationship than whips and chains. Communication is the key to any good relationship, especially one like this. Anything you tell me or anything we do is strictly between us.” He could see she was hesitating. That trust issue again. He sipped his brandy and waited patiently.
“Let me think about it.” She looked pensive. He could see the thoughts whirling through her head. Too bad he couldn’t read them. An “I’ll think about it” was better than an outright “no.” He might have to work on her a little longer, but he thought he would be able to crack the formidable shell that surrounded her emotions. He hoped so. He was sure there was a hell of a woman hiding inside.
Chapter Eight
Newport Harbor, Newport, Rhode Island, on board the Golden Dolphin, November 11, 2013—Monday Morning, Day Two of the Cruise
Harper awoke the next morning as the ship was anchoring in the main mooring area of Newport’s inner harbor. They would be taking one of the tenders to the wharf after the captain had reported to US Customs and Border Protection and presented a passenger and crew list and ship’s documents. They already had a cruising license as the Golden Dolphin flew a Cayman Islands flag. After dressing for the day, Harper joined Morgan for breakfast on the private deck off the master suite. They enjoyed second cups of coffee while they waited for clearance to go ashore.
“Did you sleep well, Harper? Have you thought about what I said last night?”
“Let’s just enjoy the day, Morgan. I’ll think about it. I promise. What are we going to do ashore?”
“The ship’s owner has arranged a private tour of a couple of the Newport Mansions. They are already closed for the season, but Jamie Devereau knows everyone, so we’ll be able to tour The Breakers and Marble House. I believe we’re going to have lunch at The Breakers. Then we can check out the Cliff Walk. I think that will pretty much take up the day. We leave at eight o’clock for Boston.”
“That sounds great.” She looked up from the guidebook she was reading. “These ‘little summer cottages’ are just fabulous. The Breakers was b
uilt in 1893 by Cornelius Vanderbilt II, chairman of the New York Central Railroad, in the Italian Renaissance style, and has seventy rooms. Wow. Just a little place at the beach.”
“It was definitely a different time.” He took the guidebook from her hands and glanced through it. “I’ll be interested to see the carriage house and stable. They had a head coachman and twelve grooms and stable boys who all lived on the second floor.”
“I didn’t know you liked horses.” That definitely perked up an interest level that was pretty high already.
“I keep a matched pair of black Morgans at a stable out on the Island. I like to drive them, but my nieces ride them most of the time since I don’t really have enough time to keep them exercised. Maybe I can take you for a carriage ride some time or maybe just a trail ride.”
“I haven’t ridden in years, not since college. But I would love that.”
“That’s not a problem. Shadow and Ollie are both very reliable—push button actually, or I wouldn’t let my nieces ride them.”
An announcement was made over the loudspeaker that passengers wishing to go ashore should begin gathering at the tender garages. Morgan helped Harper out of her seat and took her arm as they exited the suite and made their way down the five flights of the central stairway.
* * * *
Harmon Burke had spent an uncomfortable night in the storage room. After it seemed that the passengers and most of the crew had retired for the night, he had made a quick but careful foray out into the passageways of the ship. He was amazed by the luxury of the Golden Dolphin on every level. Of course, he had never been on a mega yacht before, but he had as good an imagination as anyone else. This went beyond anything he could have expected. He made a quick trip to the crew’s main head and cleaned up. It wouldn’t do to attract unwanted attention by his smell alone. The lighting in the public rooms and passageways had been lowered for the night, but while he was out and about, he took some pictures with his cell phone. Most of the doors were locked and required key cards for access. He didn’t know if he would be able to get a really good look around.
Now that he had actually made it on board, he was scared. He didn’t know what the penalties for stowing away would be. If they found him, would they put him off the boat in Canada without a passport? He hadn’t really thought this through, and he knew he was in an extremely perilous position. He just really wanted to get the goods on this Morgan Court guy. He had it all, and Harmon wanted a piece of that action. He was hopeful that when the passengers left the ship for their shore excursions, he would be able to look around some more. Maybe he would get what he needed and could find a way off the ship before he got in more trouble than he could handle.
When morning came and he realized the ship was not docked at a wharf or pier, but out in deep water, he was stunned. There was no way off the ship except to board one of the tenders going to the dock, where he would surely be noticed. This wasn’t good. He began to panic. Okay, I’ve got to stay calm here. Hopefully, they will be at a dock in Boston, and by then maybe I’ll have gotten my story and can get the hell off this boat.
* * * *
Morgan smiled and watched the brisk wind from the water blow Harper’s straight black hair across her face as they crossed the harbor in the open tender. The bright sun shining down on her hair sparked blue highlights. He couldn’t see the expression in the eyes hidden behind the big pair of sunglasses she wore, but her enjoyment of the moment was evidenced by her wide smile. He put his arm around her shoulder and turned her into his chest. When she snuggled into him for warmth, he brushed her hair back and lightly kissed her soft lips. He was delighted by the enthusiasm with which she kissed him back.
Once they were ashore, they boarded one of the minivans that the ship had arranged to transport them to The Breakers. When they were on the grounds, Harper was amazed. The pictures did not do this place justice. It was magnificent. The chubby cherubs adorning the tops of the columns fronting the facade made her smile. They entered the mansion though the main entrance into the enormous grand foyer and began their tour.
When they had looked around, they joined the other passengers for a luncheon served in the enormous palazzo-style main dining room. The crystal chandeliers, opulent oriental rugs, heavy draperies, and arched windows created an elegant atmosphere that took the guests back to the last century.
Morgan leaned over and whispered in Harper’s ear. “This would make a hell of a fine dungeon. I wonder if they have one. It’s obviously not on the tour.”
She laughed at him. “You are just full of mischief today. Somehow, I don’t think Mrs. Vanderbilt, the grand dame of Newport society, would have allowed that.”
He winked at her. “You never know.”
After lunch, Morgan managed to spirit them away from the group and to the carriage house located a half mile west of the mansion. Morgan was able to bribe one of the staff to let them in. He had wanted to explore it since he read the description in the guidebook. Unfortunately, there had been a fire which destroyed the second floor living quarters in 1970, so they were not able to see the grooms’ and stable boys’ accommodations. However, the collection of nineteenth-century carriages and tack fascinated him, and they spent over an hour looking at the old photographs and the exhibits.
They decided to skip the Marble House tour and take a stroll along the Cliff Walk. The wind blowing off the ocean was invigorating but carried a definite chill. Morgan put his arm around Harper’s shoulders and pulled her under his arm. The satisfied feeling he got as he cradled her closer to his body for warmth surprised him. The little Domme was a delightful armful, and he thoroughly enjoyed holding her.
“So, are you thinking?” He hated to push her into a decision, but the cruise would only last so long before the pressures of day-to-day life intruded on them again.
“You know I am. I’m just not sure I can do it, trust someone else completely. I’ve done everything I can to put myself in control of my life.”
“Can you tell me at least some of what’s bothering you, holding you back?”
“It’s a common enough story. I was abused by my grandfather when I was a kid. He was a bastard, and my grandmother was a cold bitch. I don’t know if she was aware of what was going on or not, but I have never forgiven either of them.”
“Or yourself?” he asked gently as he tried to cover the shock he felt at this revelation. “I have heard that some children subconsciously feel that they were to blame for the abuse, that it was somehow their fault,” he continued softly. “Of course, that’s nonsense, but that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t feel that way deep down as a child, or maybe now as an adult.” The sympathy he felt for this vulnerable woman only intensified his desire, his need to help her overcome the terrible burden he could see she still carried after all these years.
“Well, maybe…”
He wanted to take her in his arms and protect her, but it was too late for that. All he could do was try to help her the only way he knew how. “Harper, if you give me the gift of your trust and obedience, you can let go and just feel. Then I can give you the gift of complete understanding, pleasure, and hopefully some peace and respite from your demons. I’ll take over complete control and may be able to help you forgive yourself, help you let go of the repressed memories and feelings of guilt. Your submission will free your mind and body to just feel pleasure. I don’t see that you are getting any pleasure for yourself out of the lifestyle, and that’s a shame. The whole idea is to enhance pleasure.”
“Morgan, I can’t rush into a decision, but I promise I’ll let you know soon.”
They enjoyed the three-and-a-half-mile walk along the ocean, which provided a sea view of many of the mansions. They played the game of deciding which mansion they each would buy. Morgan wanted the opulent Breakers while Harper opted to purchase the smaller but very elegant Italianate-style villa called Chepstow. When they got to the end of the Cliff Walk, Morgan called for a cab to return them to the wharf.
&n
bsp; * * * *
Harper knew she had a lot of thinking to do. When Morgan had looked down his straight, elegant nose at her and she had stared back into his observant, black eyes, she had felt the connection all the way down to her center. It felt as though he could see into her damaged soul, and his watchful, somber gaze had held a wealth of understanding and empathy. She had wanted to crawl inside him and take refuge, and that was so unlike her. She usually kept a distance between herself and other people, men and women alike. If she wanted to pursue a relationship with Morgan, she had to come to a decision about whether or not she could bottom for him and, hopefully, put her past behind her. She had taken a lot of pride in her ability to be a Domme, and she didn’t know if she could compromise on that.
Harper had heard in various conversations on board the Golden Dolphin that Natasha Romanova, Gregory Dempsey’s assistant and sub, had once been a Domme. She wondered if she could talk to her about what had made her switch over. She didn’t know if that would help or make her more confused, but it would certainly be nice to have someone else to talk to about it. When they were back aboard the Golden Dolphin, she called Natasha’s extension and arranged to have a talk and a drink before dinner.
Harper and Natasha met in the lounge at six o’clock. Natasha was a beautiful woman with long, wavy, light-blonde hair, sky-blue eyes, and what could almost be called a bodybuilder’s body. She spoke with a soft Russian accent, and Harper could see that she still retained a lot of dominant personality traits.
“Thanks for meeting with me, Natasha. I just wanted to ask you some questions about switching from Domme to sub. Morgan has asked me to consider bottoming for him, and I don’t know if I can or want to do it. I understand you’re an ex-Domme yourself.”
Harper's Submission [Golden Dolphin 2] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 3
