Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Lucinda
I couldn’t believe I’d gotten selected. One of the Doms that frequented the club on a regular basis, Master Charles, had told me about a BDSM yacht trip.
No one knew who organized it, but no one denied its validity or that it would be at the highest of discretion and luxury.
The submissives were selected after filling out an application and questionnaire, along with providing personal references from those we’d known in the community for at least two years.
And even though I’d worked in a club in Austin and I made a lot of connections, I was still surprised when I got selected.
From what I understood, the submissives on the trip did not have to pay and that raised some concerns about the power dynamic, but I was assured at every turn that it would not obligate me to anything.
Not like consent wasn’t a big thing at the club. We always had the opportunity to turn down a request or stop a scene. But, as employees we were chosen. The boat was a smorgasbord of Doms and it was my turn to choose. I’d set my own rules and negotiate for myself.
And so I’d flown into Miami yesterday and stayed overnight at a hotel near the pier. And now I was on my way to board the cruise. A private car and driver picked me up and drove to the marina. Four others stood in line waiting to board when I arrived.
The skin on the back of my arm stung from repeated pinching. This wasn’t real. “Boat” didn’t begin to describe it. The yacht dwarfed its neighbors in the marina. Leaning over the pier’s edge into the dark depths of blue water, the bottom lost somewhere far below.
“Careful.”
The sunlight blinded me as my gaze traveled upwards taking in the finely dressed figure beside me. A tall man in a matching cream linen suit came into focus, backlit by the blazing sun: strong jawline, wind-tousled blond hair, expenses sunglasses.
“Don’t want you to fall in.” He flashed me a dazzling smile and moved between me and the edge of the pier.
“I can swim.” An unexpected giggle escaped my lips.
“Yeah.” Bending down. His cologne tickled my nose. “Well, I can’t. Don’t tell anyone.” One finger pressed conspiratorially against smiling slips.
He removed his glasses and held out his hand. “Marcus.”
“Lucinda.” Our palms meet briefly, his grip warm and firm. His light hair picked up the sun, and he had the deepest set brown eyes I’d ever seen.
“Nice to meet you, Lucinda.” He guided me toward the boat as the line moved forward. “First time on a trip like this?”
“I’m still not exactly sure what type of trip it is.”
His mouth dropped open, eyebrows shooting up toward his hairline as he took a half step back. His bewildered stare darted between my face and the enormous yacht.
I giggled.
“I mean, I know what kind of people are on the boat.” I waved in their general direction. “I just not sure how it all works, you know. But, I’m open.”
“I guess you’d have to be to agree to go on a voyage on the BDSM boat.”
“That’s not what they call it do they?” I laughed.
“No, I suppose not.” He shrugged. “They also couldn’t call it a sex yacht and get people to pay what they charged.”
I laughed and snorted.
“Oh my god.” I could feel my cheeks getting red.
“You’re adorable.” He grinned down at me and gave me a wink.
“You’re funny, sir.” I nodded and turned back around.
“Ms. Simmons.” A man in a stark white uniform held his hand out and helped me onto the boat.
“Welcome aboard. If you will please come with me.” He held onto my hand and guided me through automatic doors into a sitting area.
A few other people were already waiting on couches arranged in a U-shape.
A square coffee table sat in the middle of the room.
“Please have a seat and we’ll start with our orientation in just a few minutes.” He walked away and another steward in the same uniform came by with a tray of drinks.
“We have champagne and fresh orange juice or perhaps I can get you something else.”
I grabbed a glass of champagne and took a small sip.
“Hey.” A woman a few chairs down waved for me to join her. “I’m Camy.”
“Lucinda.” I smiled, and took a seat beside her.
She pushed her blond hair behind her ear and shifted in her seat. “Where you from?”
“Austin.” I sipped my drink. “You?”
“Seattle.” Her eyebrows arched as she studied my face. “Are you excited, nervous, or about to throw up?”
“All the above, but mostly excited.” The other people in the room—mostly women, and four men—were either talking in groups or sitting quietly sipping their drink.
A slender man in a black suit stepped through the open doors and whispered to one of the stewards. They finished delivering their drinks and then filed out of the back of the room in a line. Once the door closed behind them, the young man in black cleared his throat.
“Good afternoon.” The man straightened his coat and pushed his hair out of his face.
“My name is Christopher Stevens.” With a quick motion, the suit jacket came unbuttoned and he slipped it off his shoulders.
A chair scraped against the floor as Christopher pulled it from the nearby desk and lowered himself down with casual confidence.
“I will be your guide, or contact.” He shrugged his shoulders. “The sub director, if you will.”
We all laughed.
“For the trip, if you have any questions, concerns or are just not feeling it, please find me and let me know.” He wore an earpiece and pulled it out of his ear before continuing.
“I want to emphasize that you, ladies and gentlemen, while our designated subs on our little adventure, you are also guests and will be treated as such.
You have all been given the rules of the ship and your role of submissive is reserved for scenes and any other negotiated moments.
We do not expect you to be giving your submission away to anyone just because they have a D sign over their head. This is not what this trip is about.
“Think of this is more like a singles cruise, but the question ‘are you a dominant or submissive’ is already answered. You can avoid that awkward conversation.” He chuckled and we followed.
The room held a mosaic of people – women and men, of differing races and ages. Every face in the room, regardless of age or background possessed that unmistakable quality that turned heads.
“I encourage you to get to know each other and then of course, get to know the Doms and Dommes on the trip.” Christopher shifted and reached for a notebook.
“Everyone has been vetted and passed security checks, but things happen. Situations arise. We are using a universal safeword system. Red for stop, yellow for slow down or if you need a minute. Green is all systems go. You’ve all participated in scenes before so none of what I’m saying should be new to you, but I’m going to say it anyway.
Negotiation will start with a mediator and all scene rooms, hallways and every other open space on the yacht is monitored by security cameras.
Only places that don’t have cameras are your private staterooms. You are more than welcome to invite guests or be invited by a guest into their room, and same rules apply.
There are six scene rooms, and our scene stage allows for our group activities each night and can be reserved for the exhibitionists among you.
The resources to protect you are available, all you have to do is ask.
And, if you at any time want off the boat, a water taxi can be summoned within fifteen minutes and while the NDA still applies, you are free to leave with no explanation needed, no hard feelings.
If this environment is not for you, it’s not for you. ”
He skimmed the folder in his hand before closing it and looking up. “Okay, any questions?”
A brunette standing in the back raised her hand.
“Yes, Shelly?”
“You said the scene rooms have cameras, what happens to the recordings?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“The recordings are held until the end of the trip. Then they will be deleted.”
“Can we request a copy?” she asked.
“You mean if something goes wrong?” Christoper asked.
“No, if we just want it like a souvenir.” She smiled shyly and tucked a loose hair behind her ears.
“All recordings are destroyed unless needed for evidence.” His tone was playful, but Christopher meant business. “Jacob.” He addressed a young man with his hand up.
“What about Dom limits?” Jacob asked. “Will we have access to them?” He wore a linen matching set and had the prettiest blue eyes.
“Only during negotiations,” Christoper answered. “You’re going to have to find out about a particular kink the old-fashioned way, you’re going to have to ask about it.”
We all laughed again.
“Again, if you have any questions, please come and find me or Carol.” Christopher pointed to a petite woman in the same type of black suit with a blunt-cut black bob and red lips.
She had a nice smile. “We’ll show you all to your staterooms to get freshened up and then we will have a sail-away party in one hour. ”
The attendants in white reappeared. The one who’d handed me the glass of champagne walked up to Shelly and me.
“If you’re ready, I’ll show you to your room.” We stood and followed through another door and down a hallway.
“Ms. Simmons.” She stopped at a door and opened it, then handed me a key card. “You are here.” She turned to Shelly before repeating the same process with the door directly across from mine. “Ms. Flanders, you are here.” She looked between us. “If either of you need anything, please let me know.”
We nodded and she continued down the hall, showing more guests to their rooms.
“Knock on my door before you head out to the sail-away.” Shelly touched my arm.
“I will.”
I nodded and she disappeared into her room.
I stepped into mine and gasped.
It was beautiful with a queen-size bed and a couch underneath a window with a view of the ocean. The bathroom was behind a small door with a shower stall and lighted mirror and lots of counter space.
“Wow.” The other door led to a small closet.
To my surprise, my clothes already hung up.
My underwear, t-shirts and bathing suits were nicely folded in drawers near the bottom.
My shoes lined up neatly on the ground. My smaller carry-on remained unpacked, but open on a suitcase rack, and my makeup and toiletry bag sat on the counter in the bathroom.
I didn’t think I brought anything embarrassing, but if I had, it was too bad, because there were apparently no secrets in a place like this.
With no unpacking to do, I knelt on the bed and looked out at the still water. The surface looked like a piece of glass. The sun would be setting in an hour, in time for the sail-away. I couldn’t believe this was my life. How did I get here?
I had finished school and was set to start a new job with my father’s company in the fall.
I had reluctantly taken the job, not wanting to go back to Dallas, but I had no other options at the moment, I might as well make some money while I could.
I would miss the club back in Austin. I had stumbled upon it, obviously looking for something or someone.
Giving my submission to a different Dom nightly became its own kind of drug, but harmless.
It was an act, a performance and I was good at it.
A popular submissive at the club only meant no one wanted to make me permanently theirs.
That was fine by me. They would only be a mediocre substitute for the only man I dreamed of submitting to. God, I hated thinking about him, especially when I was embarking on a new adventure, but sadly, even four years later, he was never far from my mind.
Like the night of my birthday, when I’d secretly wished he’d appear and make all my dreams come true. And, like all those other times, his absence took the shine off every milestone. Well, not anymore.
Not wanting to think about him for another second, I finished what little unpacking they’d left for me and got ready for the night.
I had a feeling it would be life changing.