Harper's Submission [Golden Dolphin 2] (Siren Publishing Classic) (3 page)

After napping for an hour, Harper called down to the galley for a pot of green tea and a plate of cookies. The steward who delivered her order was a beautiful young man of about twenty-five who spoke with a slight French accent. The name on his uniform shirt was Jean-Claude. His curly blond hair was a little long, and he had soft-blue eyes. Harper noted that he wore a green bracelet with only one thin red band signifying no extreme whipping. When he pushed the cart containing her tea and cookies into the suite, he immediately dropped into the slave position on the floor in front of the door. “Mistress, may I serve you?”

Harper was taken aback. She knew that a lot of the stewards and ABs, or able-bodied seamen, aboard participated in the BDSM activities, either as Doms or subs, but she had not expected one to drop at her feet.

“Yes, Jean-Claude, please put my tea on the table by the window. Thank you.”

“Permission to speak, Mistress?”

“Certainly, Jean-Claude.”

“I meant may I serve as your sub, Mistress. I do not currently have a Mistress and would be honored to serve you while you are aboard.”

Harper thought for a moment. She didn’t want to hurt the young man’s feelings by refusing, but she did not want to commit to a relationship lasting the entire cruise. “Are you off duty tonight? If so, I’ll meet you in the dungeon at nine thirty for a one-time scene. I do not want to commit to anything for the duration of the trip.”

“Thank you, Mistress. I will be there.” He stood, took the room service cart, and left the suite.

Harper shook her head. This whole thing was really rather amazing. She couldn’t imagine what wonders the rest of the trip would hold.

Harper and Morgan met on the upper deck for the lifeboat and life jacket safety drill at six thirty. Gregory Dempsey, the safety officer and head of security, and his assistant, Natasha Romanova, demonstrated the use of the lifeboats and life jackets. The brochure had stated that Greg and Natasha were also in charge of the BDSM club aboard the ship.

Greg explained that the crew and all passengers were to wear the dark-blue waterproof rubber bracelets they would find in their suites at all times. He explained that the bracelets contained the personal identification of each passenger and would allow them to embark and debark from the ship. In the event of an emergency, either aboard ship or on shore, their locations could be tracked via the GPS chips embedded in the bracelets. In the event of an accidental fall overboard, they could be located in the water. He related that on the first cruise of the
Golden Dolphin
, a passenger had been abducted from a street market on the Amazon. The ship’s security team had been able to track and recover her before anything had happened to her. That was enough information for Harper. She put the bracelet on immediately and urged Morgan to do the same.

Greg introduced the passengers to the ship’s mascot, Saltydawg, the mud-brown, bandy-legged English bulldog, and allowed him to make friends with everyone before inviting them all to visit the bridge and meet the rest of the ship’s officers at their first opportunity. Harper had to admit that these folks really seemed to have a handle on this cruise business. Everything was top-drawer and flawlessly organized without the go-to-camp atmosphere found on many large cruise ships. She was impressed.

* * * *

Morgan took Harper’s arm and led her back into the dining room. The wind off the river was frigid, and the idea of a nice hot toddy and dinner sounded really good right now. He knew they would be pulling out of the harbor at nine o’clock. Harper’s long, silky black hair was bundled back into a bun at her nape, exposing her long, slender neck. She wore a red suede jacket over a black cashmere sweater and skinny black jeans that lovingly sculpted her very fine butt. He really liked that butt and had every intention of making its intimate acquaintance.

While they sipped their hot toddies, Harper told Morgan about her appointment in the dungeon. He was surprised but covered his reaction quickly. “He’s a lovely young man, and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings by refusing. I did tell him it was only going to be this one time.”

“I’ll come down and watch if you don’t mind.” This was a good opportunity to try and gain some insight into Harper’s thinking. He didn’t plan to miss it.

“Not at all. The dungeon is open to everyone.”

Harper entered the dungeon through the heavily carved double doors on deck three to find Jean-Claude waiting for her in the slave position in the center of the floor. She stopped in front of him, her long legs encased in tight black jeans tucked into high, black English riding boots. Her breasts were pushed up by the black leather bustier she wore. His head was bowed, and he didn’t meet her eyes as was proper protocol. His naked body was completely hairless. She admired his sleekly muscled chest and arms. Harper could see the excitement evidenced by his bobbing erection and the light in his eyes. His blond hair brushed his broad shoulders.

Harper saw Morgan leaning up against the wall next to the St. Andrew’s Cross. His wide muscular chest was only partially covered by the black leather vest he wore, and his masculine package was molded by tight black leather pants tucked into high boots. He was watching her intently. He was the classic picture of a dark and powerful Master Dom. She wasn’t going to allow him to distract her from her duties to her sub and this scene.

“Sub, rise and greet your Mistress.” She waited patiently while Jean-Claude rose to his feet and bowed slightly. Harper had to admit that the young man was really quite beautiful. She gave him her full attention. “What is your safe word, sub?”

“The universal safe word for the ship is ‘kingfish,’ Mistress.”

“I see that you only wear a red band, signifying no extreme whipping. Do you have any other hard limits?

“No, Mistress. I put myself in your hands.”

“Put on wrist and ankle cuffs and get up on the table, faceup.” Harper waited for him to comply. She checked his cuffs for proper fit and fastening, and then she clipped them to the table’s corners. Jean-Claude was now spread-eagle on the table. Harper went to the armoire in the corner and checked the drawers until she found what she wanted—the pure white paraffin wax candle with a low melting point used for wax play. She trimmed the wick and put the candle in a short, spouted blue ceramic bowl. She lit it and set it on a table beside them. While she waited for the special wax to melt, she warmed a small amount of baby oil in her hands and ran them over his chest, abdomen, and legs, working the fragrant oil into his skin.

She spoke softly for his ears only. “We’re going to have a little hot wax play, sub. Does that frighten you, or can you trust your Mistress to take care of you?”

He looked a little nervous but said, “Anything you wish, Mistress.”

Harper looked deeply into his eyes. “Just relax. Trust me.” She picked up the bowl and dripped a little of the melted wax on the inside of her elbow. When she had determined that the wax was at the melting point but not hot enough to burn his skin, she held the bowl high over his chest and tilted it so that the wax trickled over the spout. She dripped the melted wax on Jean-Claude’s skin in a swirling Celtic knot pattern over his abdomen, slowly moving lower and lower. Jean-Claude moaned at the sensation of the hot wax hitting his belly as he anticipated each new plopping splatter. As she approached his groin she stopped. She ran her hands over his lats and up the side of his chest and neck. When they had made eye contact, she said, “Are you ready?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Harper continued to slowly drip the melted paraffin down over his hip bones, carefully circling his pelvic area. When she approached the sensitive area of his erect shaft, Jean-Claude was breathing heavily and looked about ready to blow. She split off and followed his muscular legs down to his knees and then back up again, carefully avoiding his penis, which was now bobbing and fully erect. She stood back to admire the design she had created on Jean-Claude’s body.

“What a good and trusting sub you are, Jean-Claude. Now for your reward.” Harper took his steel-hard shaft into her newly oiled hands and quickly brought him to a satisfying completion. When his cum had stopped spurting onto his belly, she quickly wiped him clean with a warm cloth and covered him. “Rest a few moments, and then we will remove the wax.”

Harper filled a bowl with ice cubes from the dispenser in the armoire, took one, and began to trace the wax pattern with the ice cube. When the wax had hardened, she took a short knife and carefully began to peel the hardened wax from Jean-Claude’s sensitive skin. He moaned and whimpered as she again came close to his reinvigorated shaft, this time with a knife in her steady hand. “Still trust your Mistress, sub?”

“Yes, Mistress. I know you would not hurt me.”

When all of the wax had been removed and Jean-Claude’s skin had been massaged with a soothing lotion, Harper bent forward and grasped his still-erect penis in her long-fingered hands and stroked him until he spurted onto his belly a second time. He had totally slipped into subspace. She carefully wrapped him in a soft blanket and led him to an upholstered love seat near the wall. She sat on the love seat beside him and pulled him into her arms. She petted and soothed him until he came around.

When Jean-Claude had returned to his full senses, Harper kissed his cheek and sent him off. She looked up and straight into Morgan’s penetrating coal-black gaze. He cocked an eyebrow at her and gestured her toward the door.

* * * *

Morgan was impressed by Harper’s steady hands and unrelenting concentration on her task. He wasn’t quite as impressed by the sight of her soft hands around the young steward’s cock. He had already determined that she was going to be his, and only his. Now he just had to implement a plan.

Captain Constantine Cortelis watched his officers prepare to depart New York Harbor. He surveyed the console on the bridge of the
Golden Dolphin,
overlooking the array of navigation and control screens. He had been briefed by all of his senior officers, including the chief mate, Alex Dragados, the navigator, John Donato, the chief engineer, Eddie Cervantes, and the head steward, Casey Campbell. All systems were up and running, all supplies and equipment were aboard, and all was in order. The
Golden Dolphin
was ready to leave the pier.

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.

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.”