Harper's Submission [Golden Dolphin 2] (Siren Publishing Classic) (7 page)

They had walked their feet off and stopped for a late lunch at a charming Italian family restaurant.

“Talk about following the yellow brick road, or was that the red brick road? Anyway, that was a crash course in Colonial American History 101. I think I liked Paul Revere’s house best. It’s Boston’s oldest house. It was built almost a hundred years before he lived there. What about you?” Harper still had her nose buried in the guidebook that had been provided by the ship.

“I liked it all, but I’m still looking forward to crossing the Charlestown Bridge and visiting the USS Constitution, Old Ironsides, and the Bunker Hill Monument. Will you climb the two hundred ninety-four spiral steps with me, or will you wimp out? The view up there is supposed to be spectacular. Afterward we can catch the water shuttle back to the ship.”

“I’m no wimp, buddy. Just let me get some of this delicious lasagna and Chianti in me, and I’ll be ready to go again.”

By the time they had finished sightseeing and boarded the water shuttle to make their way back to the ship, they were both tired. Harper lay down on the sofa in Morgan’s living room and promptly fell asleep. He called the galley and ordered a tea tray so Harper could have her Boston Tea Party when she woke up. He had to smile. She so enjoyed everything and was one of the most enthusiastic people he knew. A lot of the women he had dated would have balked at hiking around Boston on foot all day, but she had jumped right in with both feet, so to speak.

* * * *

Morgan was sitting on the private deck off the master suite while he made the calls he had to make to his office in New York. One was to Joe Levine, the director of the double-blind clinical trial of Maxprotem, one of the new drugs for which Court Industries was on the verge of obtaining preliminary FDA approval. It was one of Morgan’s pet projects, and he was anxious to know how it was going. So far the results of the human testing had not been stellar. He had great hopes that this new drug was going to be a viable answer for early onset or childhood diabetes. It had been in development and testing for several years. The competition between the various drug companies, especially the smaller ones, to be the first to come up with a new treatment or drug was intense. The general public did not really understand the years of work and testing that went into bringing a new drug to the market, not to mention the risks of unknown side effects. The threat of industrial espionage was very real. He didn’t need the fact that their trial for Maxprotem was not going well to pop up in the newspapers or trade journals. Bad publicity could kill their FDA application.

“I can’t explain it, Morgan. We should be having much better results than we are getting. Actually, we’re not getting any results at all, which is very puzzling. The participants’ blood work is not showing any improvement. I just don’t get it. We had such excellent results with the lab animals.”

“I would suggest retesting all the participants and giving the protocols another review. Get back to me.”

* * * *

When Harper woke up, she found that Morgan had covered her with the soft throw from the chaise. She yawned and looked around for him. She spotted him out on the deck and got up to join him.

He looked up and smiled as she came through the glass door from the living room. “Well, sleepyhead, how are you feeling?”

“Oh, much better.” Harper settled on the chaise beside him. She grinned at him when she noticed the tea tray complete with cookies, scones, strawberry preserves, clotted cream, iced cakes, small sandwiches, and a teapot capped by a bright quilted tea cozy. “You remembered my Boston Tea Party! You are so sweet, Morgan.”

“Don’t tell anyone. You’ll ruin my rep.” He reached over and poured her a cup of tea. “Please notice the canister of tea leaves for you to symbolically throw into the harbor. The cook included that on her own. I wish I could take credit for that one. I believe there’s cream and sugar, as well as lemon. What would you like in your tea?”

“Cream and sugar, thanks, but I’ll get it. What have you been up to while I was sleeping?”

“I made some phone calls. As much as I’d like to skip it, I have to keep in contact with the office. We have two very important drug trials going on right now, and FDA approval hangs in the balance.”

“How are they going?” Harper asked as she checked her cell phone for messages and texts.

“It’s too early to tell, but I am hoping for some preliminary data in a few days. The animal trials were stellar, but human trials might not garner the same results.” He looked worried.

“By the way, Natasha left me a text message that Alex Dragados, the chief mate, is going to be doing a training scene in the dungeon tonight after dinner with two of the trainee subs, and it’s open to anyone who wants to attend. Do you think you want to go? He’s supposed to be very good.”

“Sure. That should be interesting. I think the subs are two single female passengers who won this cruise in a charity raffle at Le Club Eastside. I don’t think I know them, though.”

* * * *

Harmon was getting braver. He began moving about the ship not only early in the morning and late at night, but for a limited amount during the day when most of the passengers and crew had gone ashore. He realized it was risky, but he wasn’t going to get what he needed hunkered down in the supply room eating energy bars and peeing in a cup.

Tonight it seemed he may have hit pay dirt. He scooted back into a dark recessed doorway in the third deck passageway and tried to disappear into the woodwork. He watched as quite a few of the passengers entered a suite that was normally kept locked. The doors were very ornate and heavily carved. He didn’t know what the suite was used for, but it wasn’t a passenger cabin.

The gathering wouldn’t have gotten Harmon’s attention except that shortly after the crowd had entered the suite, a tall, dark-haired, heavily muscled man followed by two women went into the suite together. They were dressed very strangely.
What’s this? A costume party?
The man was bare chested and wore studded leather bands around his bulging biceps, tight black leather pants, and high boots. The women’s dresses were very tight, short black latex or rubber, or some other shiny material. He quickly snapped a couple of pictures with his cell phone before the door closed again. The passageway was not well-lit, and the picture quality wasn’t great, but he could clearly see their faces and the clothes they were wearing. The man was the chief mate, but he didn’t know who the women were.

Shit!
He had to get into that room.
This is really interesting
. He cautiously caught the doorknob of one of the doors which had not yet clicked shut and quietly slipped into the room while everyone’s attention was on the group of three costumed people. He slid into position behind a group who were looking excitedly at the newcomers and tried to make himself inconspicuous.

The group of three stopped in the center of the room under a spotlight shining down from the ceiling. Some of the passengers were seated on the sofas arranged around the room with their attention focused on the three while others stood against the walls. Harmon glanced surreptitiously around the room and was shocked to see that it looked like a medieval torture chamber. There was a lot of strange equipment—chains hanging from the ceiling, and a collection of whips, riding crops, paddles, and belts hanging on the wall across from the enormous mirror that went from floor to ceiling. The spotlight briefly dimmed and then came back on. The crowd immediately quieted.
What the hell is this?

“Thank you for coming. My subs for the evening are Beth and Joan. They are guests from Le Club Eastside. This is a training session, and I will be stopping to instruct or correct them, so this performance won’t be as seamless as it might be with trained subs. Let’s begin. Subs, strip and assume the position.”

The two women stripped off the dresses that had nothing beneath them, hung them neatly in the cabinet in the corner, and dropped to their knees in front of the tall, dark man and said, “Thank you, Master.” The two women, who both seemed to be in their early thirties, were very attractive. Each had a curvy figure with ample breasts and butts. The taller one had wavy auburn hair that matched her snatch, while the shorter one was blonde, but her snatch was dark. Apparently she wasn’t a natural blonde.
Red hair and a snatch to match. Oh, boy!
Harmon thought he might begin to drool. The Master made minute corrections to their positions, which consisted mostly of gently spreading their legs wider while quietly giving them instructions. Harmon was in shock. He hadn’t seen a naked pussy in quite a while, actually not since his girlfriend, Vera, had broken up with him. She had said he was a clod, and boring at that. But he didn’t want to think about that now. He was far too excited to worry about Vera’s opinion. He didn’t think he was looking so boring right now.

“Subs, get wrist and ankle cuffs, put them on, and stand in slave position. I’ll check them when you’re done.”

The women, or subs, hurried to obey his orders.
What the fuck?
Harmon was astounded. Had he stumbled into a fetish club or what? He couldn’t believe his luck. He took his cell phone out of his pants pocket and tried to blend into the crowd. He just had to get these pictures. They could make his career.

When the women were standing naked wearing only the leather wrist and ankle cuffs, the chief mate, whom they apparently called Master, walked around them and inspected the fastenings. He ran his hands casually over their bodies, as though petting or reassuring them, and then lightly swatted their butts. Harmon was so excited he almost forgot why he was there. He quickly got with the program and began snapping pictures. He hoped no one noticed the very quiet
shhhhush
and click his cell phone made as each picture was taken.

“I’m going to take this opportunity to demonstrate the controls and uses of the equipment in case some of you are unfamiliar with any of it. If you have any questions, please hold them until the scene is over.” He directed the subs to stand side by side beneath two sets of chains hanging from the ceiling and quickly fasten their wrist cuffs to the chains. He demonstrated the adjustments that brought the two subs onto their toes before he fastened their ankle cuffs to bolts in the floor. The women looked helpless to him. He had never seen anything this exciting. His woody was standing at attention.

Everyone in the audience was paying rapt attention to the Master and subs and took no notice of him at all. Harmon couldn’t believe his luck as he continued to snap pictures. Maurie Cullen, his editor, was not going to believe this. He would go through the pictures later in the storage room. He would have to see which ones he would eventually e-mail to Maurie to whet his appetite. He wasn’t going to send off anything right away. He wanted to see what else he could find out and maybe who else he could get pictures of. Hell, it would be great if he could get pictures of Morgan Court and Harper Cameron. That would be outstanding. That damn Court was so secretive, almost no pictures of him existed at all, and Cameron and her wardrobe had been the darling of the New York press during that entire trial. He had to play this right and make the most of this opportunity. It wouldn’t do to put all his eggs in one basket. He might be able to sell some of these pictures to another paper, gossip rag, or Internet site.

The Master circled the immobilized subs while carefully checking their bindings. Then he went to a cabinet in the corner and took some items from a drawer. When he came back to the subs, he fastened nipple clamps on first one naked girl and then the other. They gasped as the tight clips pinched their nipples. He lightly stroked their breasts until they each looked more comfortable. They were both starting to look excited as they followed each movement made by the Master with hungry eyes. The Master explained the proper application of nipple clamps to the audience and showed how to tighten them and then loosen them just a bit until they were tight but not too painful. Their nipples were hard little buds, rosy with excitement, topping tempting mounds of flesh. Harmon was definitely on the edge here. He now had a boner of huge proportions.
Wow. This is amazing
. He had enjoyed his share of porn magazines, but he had certainly never seen this stuff in the raw before.

The Master demonstrated the restraints on the spanking bench, the proper use of a spreader bar, and various other pieces of equipment. Finally he walked over to the St. Andrew’s Cross against the back wall. He demonstrated the mechanism that controlled the hydraulic step that raised the occupant to just the right height.
The right height for what? Fucking?

“I’m not going to be using the cross tonight since I have two subs to discipline. Subs, are you ready for your punishment?” Harmon watched as both subs looked at the Master with both longing and fear. The subs seemed to be quivering with anticipation. The Master picked up a short but efficient-looking riding crop and administered three sharp swats to each of their round butts. Harmon was disappointed that the swats hadn’t been very hard, but they did make a satisfying
thwack.
The Master moved in closer, and Harmon couldn’t see what he was doing with his hands between the legs of first one sub and then the other, but he could guess. He kissed each one hard and quickly massaged their breasts. They cried out in what appeared to be ecstasy. He could see the wet cunts between their spread legs. Harmon thought he might pass out. What he wouldn’t give to get a piece of that action.