Judged by Him (22 page)

She let Maria dry her body. When she entered the stateroom, Jason, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, lounged in an armchair. Damp hair glimmering in the sunlight, bare feet crossed, and arms stretched out on the armrests.

She knelt at his feet. “Please, Sir, I…would rather….” What she’d rather do was irrelevant. She was supposed to be obedient, and to plead otherwise would be pointless.

Jason pursed his lips. “You’re struggling with your fear of being humiliated. All I ask is for you to masturbate for us, and we’re not exactly a bunch of strangers.” He poked her with a toe. “Nothing to say? Disappointment is what I’m feeling at the moment. You said you would try to overcome your inhibitions.”

Gemma remained resolutely silent. She had no idea how to play him. He had her trapped in a state of submissive reluctance. Wrapped in her anxieties, she had forgotten to show sufficient appreciation with regard to his offer to help John. A murmured thank you, nothing else. Guilt crept up on her.

“This isn’t meant to be a punishment. Contrary to what you may think, I’m not mad at you for chatting with Andrea. I merely pointed out you should be selective in your choice of topic. It’s good you can talk about your past without dredging up difficult memories. You reminded me of your fears of reminiscing only the other day. Yet you managed perfectly well today. You should be proud. Look at me, Gemma.”

He poked her again, and she lifter her head higher. Unshed tears smarted in her eyes.

“Am I that transparent to you, Sir, that everything I do or say, even if you’re not present, is printed on my face like a book.”

“Yes, to be blunt. But the ability to read you allows me to help you and take care of you.”

He watched her intently, for tears or anger. She remained in an emotional no-man’s land. “Let us return to the real matter at hand. Your dislike of being exhibited will be addressed to my satisfaction, and since you aren’t prepared to provide me with an orgasm of your own volition, I shall insist you do it for mine. Go. On the bed, now!”

Gemma crawled onto the middle of the mattress. Suddenly, his demands sent a shock wave through her head. It awakened the raw emotion of vulnerability, a place of profound discomfort. A soft limit of her emotional endurance.

Jason assembled her audience. Enrique appeared as if summoned by a secret command. He and Maria took up positions near the foot of the bed, one to each side, and they stared at Gemma impassively. Jason remained in his armchair, regally positioned for the best view.

“Legs farther apart and get on with it.” Jason tapped a finger on the armrest.

Gemma’s tattooed hands began their slow circular movements around her clitoris. Closing her eyes, she gradually built the pace up and rocked on her haunches.

“Eyes open,” snapped Jason then he softened his tone. “I want you looking at me. Your attention on me. I am all you need focus on. Nobody in this room wants you to fail.”

Gemma struggled, her shoulders tense and her face rigid with frustration. Finally, her eyes settled on him, and he gave her what she desperately wanted, a friendly, pleasant face of reassurance—he smiled. He delivered an affirmation, his belief in her abilities, and it had an immediate effect. She became aroused. Her skin pinked up about her breasts, breaths grew rapid and audible, and her body transcended into a place of indulgence. Her decorated hands trembled as she pushed fingers up against her clitoris, and her legs wobbled with the impending climax.

She had been cross with him, but not any longer. She blanked out the intrusive faces of the other two. Maria had given her a nod, and even Enrique mouthed a “go for it.” Jason was right, there were only friends in the room, nobody to hurt or judge her abilities. No grotesque young men to taunt her. Being on show, the centre of attention, caught her imagination.

She thought back on the ogling boys of her teenage years, following her about, chatting her up, commenting in hushed voices about her tits and bum. Nobody had ever told her she was unattractive or undesirable. Everyone liked her and found her good company. With these memories and the intense gaze of her handsome, impressive husband, she felt her confidence boost, her self-esteem rocket. She was a well-trained, pleasing, and accomplished submissive, desired by many and taken by the best. Her master, her lover, and her husband.

Gemma’s legs practically buckled underneath her as she exploded with her climax.

“Oh, God!” she yelled as her body crumpled and shook with the aftershock. On wobbly legs, Jason came across and held her against his body until she finished. By the time she regained an awareness of her surroundings, the other two had gone.

“Well done. That wasn’t so difficult was it?” He hugged and patted her back.

“No,” she gasped, grateful for the physical contact.

“Lie down. On your back. Take the weight off those shaky legs.”

“Thank you. For making me do that. I’m sorry I’ve been lacking in gratitude. About John and...this holiday. I know you’re distracted by work, and I appreciate the time you’re giving me, us.” She leant over and kissed him on the mouth, his lips parting, he exhaled into her mouth.

“Babe, you’re divine,” Jason cupped her face in his hands. “What you did in the shower was exactly what I needed. I’m floundering with work, unable to see the whole picture from out here. It’s frustrating, and you are the perfect picture of obedience and very sexy. Too sexy. I wanted to fuck you on the flybridge with that blindfold on!” He kissed her back.

His face darkened slightly. “From now on, though, no backing off. When I ask you to do anything, in the presence of my chosen audience, anything, whether it involves sexual intercourse or an act of humility, you will do it without questioning, back chatting, or hesitating. I’m not giving you any further latitude on this issue. You’re an established submissive, and this shouldn’t require me to negotiate or make repeated requests.”

He held her chin in his fingers as he spoke, though his reclined position portrayed his most dominant features of his face.

Gemma blanched slightly and took a deep breath. “I will try to—”

“Not try. Do. Without thought or over analysing. Switch the brain off.” He tapped her temple with his finger. “Now, we should be good hosts soon. That orgasm was mine, the next are yours. Twenty minutes of this.”

He held up the Hitachi massager. In her excitement, she went to grab at it, but Jason shook his head and held it away.

“Twenty minutes!”

He switched it on. “High setting, don’t you think?”

The buzzing grew louder and faster.

“Oh, thank you, thank you,” she gushed, lying back and parting her legs.

Jason propped the Hitachi’s vibrating head on her clitoris. Gemma jumped slightly at its intensity. Wriggling her hips she let out a tiny groan.

Lying next to her, with his hands behind his head, he shut his eyes. “I’m sure the orgasm count is way in your favour. I can’t believe how generous I’m being with you.”

***

While the two couples had a break, Enrique sketched out a new picture. Maria sat at his feet, sharing an orange with him while he quickly captured the image in his mind. The man would be standing over the woman. She would be kneeling at the man’s feet, back arched and mouth wide open. Her glorious head of hair would be clutched tightly in the man’s hands while he filled her mouth with his gargantuan erection. Colossal in size, it would suffocate her with its dimensions. All about his imaginary couple, water cascaded and bouncing off their bodies. Not a shower. He had decided to place the couple under a waterfall where hard rocks would surround them and turbulent water froth at their feet.

The sketch completed he showed Maria.

“Perfecto!” She smiled and offered him another segment of orange.

Day Nine

Framed by the archway, Andrea stopped dead in her sneaking tracks.

It was as if she and John watched from an auditorium. The archway transformed into the promontory of a theatre, and the bed-shaped lounger now became the stage. The morning sunlight reflected off the angular white awning, dazzling but insufficient to blind her nor prevent her from seeing what was happening underneath. Even in the shadows, she could clearly see it all. What
they
were doing.

The view before the riveted Andrea seemed like pornography, the kind she unintentionally came across on the Internet. She dare not shift her eyes to John’s face. From him, she heard a sharp intake of breath. Even from a distance, she could see the detail, the blatant kinkery.

Jason wore shorts, which hung low on his hips. A naked Gemma knelt with her bottom pressed against Jason’s groin. Blindfolded and gagged, her bound wrists attached by a rope to the pole holding up the awning.

From Gemma, small muted cries of, “uh, uh”. From him, low grunts of exertion. His hands held her flesh in a pincer grip. Andrea thought Gemma’s tightly gripped hips barely sufficient for his needs. He banged into her vigorously, slapping against her buttocks.

With quiet footsteps, she and John crept closer until they halted by the archway. Now, they could see and hear more clearly. Gemma made guttural noises, words spoken in desperate tones.

“Please, please,” she muttered, pulling on the rope.

“Fuck, yes,” Jason growled back. “You’ll take it. Come again for me!”

Gemma tossed her head back, and he picked up his pace into a relentless energetic act of fucking. Broad shoulders encased her from behind, and his hips gyrated back and forth, smacking into her rear. Her fingers grasped the rope tightly, and her arms stretched in front of her as Jason pulled her back onto him.

Biting her lip, Andrea glanced at her boyfriend. John turned a fiery red, chest expanding as he drew back his shoulders. His fists clenched, screwed up into tight balls. Andrea thought he was about to explode with rage.

“Stay silent!” Enrique crept up behind them, whispering as he tiptoed. “Move very quietly away. Back off.”

She started to step backwards, but John remained frozen to the decking.

“Señor Marshall, you must go. To interrupt them would be dangerous. You must believe me.”

To Andrea’s relief, John did as he was asked, and the three of them snuck away to the stern’s stairwell. Enrique led them, not back to the main deck, but to the private upper deck. Leaning down, John threw a pile of magazines onto the polished floor with a sweep of his arm.

“
What the hell was he doing to my little sister?
There was me thinking they did a little kinky sex, and I find he is torturing her!” He kicked a magazine across the polished floor.

Enrique stood guard by the stairwell. Andrea felt strangely ambivalent. Gemma wasn’t her sister, and she could therefore distance herself from what she had witnessed. From John’s perspective, he had seen his sister being brutally used by a seemly ungracious and uncaring husband.

Turning away from the irate John and his tantrum, she approached Enrique. “What did you mean, dangerous?”

Enrique leant on the wall, arms crossed. “You must not interrupt when they are in play. Doing their scene. In many clubs, people put up do not disturb signs. It is considered rude and risky to intrude. Unless you know the rules or boundaries have been crossed. I monitor their play. I would know if had gone too far.” He gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.

“Dangerous to interrupt?” queried John, foot poised to kick out again. “For fuck’s sake, how would you know my sister is all right? She is gagged!” He paced about the deck with his fists still clenched into tight, angry balls.

“She is in his control, and she trusts him. Imagine if you are in darkness and unable to speak. You have put your faith in one person to honour your limits. Then some loud mouth idiot jumps up on you. She might pull on her bindings, panic, and be terrified. He would lose his control over the situation and she her trust of him. They wouldn’t thank you. Seriously, señor. Stay here until they are finished,” warned Enrique.

“John, he’s right. We were not invited up there. We should have understood their privacy is there to allow them to do what they do without being spied on. When we spoke about joining them on the cruise, we agreed to respect their privacy. Remember?” She touched John’s arm, and he didn’t lash back at her.

“Yes. I remember.” His fingers uncurled, loosened, and he patted them against his thighs. With a low groan, he slumped into a nearby chair, head in his hands.

“Fuck. It’s one thing to see my sister having sex, but that kind of sex! What am I supposed to think? You’ve caught them in the act before. Was it that bad?”

Andrea recalled the incident where she had happened upon Gemma and Jason having sex in their kitchen. Gemma had been restrained by his hand, gagged with a tea towel, and the sex had certainly been rough. Yet, as Gemma had pointed out later, she had enjoyed it. Had she been enjoying what they were doing on the sundeck? Andrea elected not to answer John’s question. It wasn’t her right to answer for another.

Enrique checked his watch. “I should see if they are finished. How did you get up there?”

Andrea felt like a criminal, a trespasser. “The stern door was unlocked,” she murmured.

“Shit. He is not going to be pleased,” said Enrique grimly with a shake of his head. “I will have to explain. You should wait here.” He bounded up the stairwell to the sundeck.

Andrea flopped in a chair next to John. “We’re in trouble, regardless of what we saw.”

“I don’t care. I’ve a good mind to take Gemma back with us. Away from him. He is bad for her, Andi. You must see that!”

Andrea took a deep breath and blew it out in a long huff. She was tempted to tell him what she knew he didn’t know. The horrific rape of Gemma had been kept secret from him and the rest of the family. What he didn’t know was how critical Jason had become to Gemma’s well-being. Ironic, after seeing what they had witnessed under the canopy.

***

“What?” roared Jason.

Gemma sat up from where she had been lying in her post-coital blissful haze.

“The door was unlocked,” Enrique said quietly, wringing his hands together.