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“Yes, Sir,” she murmured.
She leant over and kissed the back of his hand. A gesture of supplication. He had made love to her as she had wished, now the balance of the relationship had been returned to its normal state. His wishes once again were paramount, not hers.
When he arrived on the sundeck, he called her to him. She knelt at his feet as he lay back on the lounger. She couldn’t help thinking that in the late afternoon sun, he looked dazzlingly handsome and quite masterful. Unlike the previous night, she wanted him to use her, and she tingled between her legs and across her bosom. Her nipples stood to attention. On this occasion, she would be in the right frame of mind for him. She suspected he might want to discipline her. A number of infractions had been committed last night, and he wouldn’t let any of them pass unpunished. He was that kind of Dominant. A man with a meticulous mind and an excellent memory for transgressions.
On cue he spoke her thoughts. “Three errors last night. In one night, you managed to disobey three elements of your submission. What did you do wrong last night? Please tell me.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Though in the right mood, it didn’t make what he wanted any easier. He would re-assert his authority over her, wipe out the image of Modesto from her memories. Jason would remind her he controlled her life. The consequences and actions of what she did were his to judge, nobody else. She needed his judgement. Kneeling there on a yacht off the coast of a distant land, she needed to be held accountable, to belong to him, and to take comfort from his ownership. She had to give herself to him willingly and gladly.
“I took my bra off without your permission. I denied your existence, so I could dance with another, and allowed a stranger to buy me a drink.” She opened her eyes. Blinking in the sunlight, she focused on his broad shoulders, avoiding his face.
“Each of these acts broke rules about what I expect from you. My control over your life, my ownership of your body, and your vow to me that you would take your safety and protection seriously. Which of those three deserves the most severe punishment?”
“All three. I broke my vow of obedience to you.” She had to see his face, to know how important he took his responsibilities. A cold, hard edge greeted her curiosity. She had no doubt he wore the mantle of Master.
“Don’t eyeball me!”
She dropped her gaze instantly. Her heartbeat quickened.
“We need to re-establish your submissiveness again, don’t we, my little fuck slave?” Now his tone shifted. Seductive and stern. A combination she couldn’t resist. Her innards released butterflies. A stampede of adrenaline coursed through her bloodstream.
“Yes, Master.”
“Lie down here next to me, on your belly. Cross your arms behind you, and your legs. What would be an appropriate punishment for breaking a vow?” He tapped her back once she was in position.
She gulped. She hated it, the implement, but she knew she could trust him with it. “The cane, Master.”
Jason paused. His hand rested on her back, between her shoulder blades. The touch calmed her. “Rest assured, I’m revoking the punishment. Saving my life tipped the balance in your favour, but I might consider some role re-enforcement. For now, I’d like you to be able to enjoy Trieste, and sitting down might be a requirement.”
Tears gathered. She struggled to contain the desire to cry. For the second time on the cruise, he had withdrawn from punishing her. “Thank you, Sir,” she whispered.
“It is tempting, very tempting, to take you again and again.” A finger trailed down her back, over a buttock cheek. She prickled with bumps, feeling him explore between her legs. “However. Paint for me. Over there. Set up your easel and let yourself go. Find those creative juices.”
Gemma considered his request. She hadn’t been in the mood to draw or paint.
“Naked,” added Jason. “I’ve always wanted to watch you paint naked.”
Her husband had never interfered with her artistic side before. There had been no mixing of her submissive nature with her creative one. She could baulk, remind him it wasn’t in his remit to control her beloved hobby. However, searching his face, she saw only kindness. The cold expression had gone.
“I’m not going to touch you,” he stated, as if reading her mind. “You’re sublime to behold and mine. That is all.”
At first, as she set up the easel, she felt self-conscious and uncertain. Then, as the brush swirled around the palette, she lost herself to a whirlpool of colours and shapes. Her nudity didn’t register in her thoughts. Painting was the best way to recuperate from the stress of the previous night. Glancing over her shoulder to where Jason reclined, hand resting behind his head, she smiled at him and murmured her thanks.
Later, he asked she bathe him as suggested. She leant over and washed him with the softest sponge, staying mindful of his bandage. He lay in the aromatic foaming water with his eyes shut. He didn’t sleep, but she thought he looked peaceful. Cleaning complete, she climbed into the tepid water, curling up between his legs and resting her head on his belly. They stayed there until they became hungry.
“We’ll dine below. Afterwards, I want to watch you dance with Gaspar.”
Gemma lifted her head up. “Really?”
“Yes. The poor man probably needs cheering up. The crew need to have their morale lifted. You can show me how you salsa with a professional.”
“Really?”
“Do I have to repeat myself?” he admonished.
“No. I’m in shock.” She hesitated then smiled. “I will have my clothes on?”
“Gemma. Don’t tempted me into changing my mind about punishing you.” His finger flicked a nipple.
