Page 25 of Enslaved

“Maybe.”

“God. What a bore he must’ve been.”

I shrugged. “He was good to me.”

“Then what happened?”

“I wanted more.”

“We always do,” she replied, getting up taking a bottle of tequila from a cupboard. “Care to join me?”

“No, thanks.”

“Night,” she smirked, taking her pack of cigarettes out and going outside.

I’d never do it, I thought. Maybe I could have a one-night stand with a sexy stranger, but being a sub? Never. Especially for money. I’m not a whore. Sex for me, always involved feelings…what Bree described was carnal, lustful—dirty and wrong. So why do my thighs feel wet and achy? My nipples hardened in my bra.

For a woman who never thought about sex much, I can’t stop thinking about it. Or imagining Christos’ tan hands roaming over my bare skin. As my head hit my small pillow and my eyes looked out the tiny porthole at the head of my bunk bed, I wondered if I was brave enough to let him take me to the dark stars. The whisper of his taste was still on my tongue; our almost kiss made me burn more than every other kiss I’d ever had. My small metal bunk creaked as I shimmied out of my sleep shorts and tank. Biting my lip, I closed my eyes, circling my tiny breasts, flicking my nipples while moaning the devil’s name. One hand dipped down, parting my wet folds and I fingered myself feeling my cheeks burn. My small porthole of a room was stuffy, the smell of diesel fuel and oil coming up from the engine room beneath me.

In and out, I worked myself, pressing down on my clit, seeking relief from the carnal desires he was awakening. I needed more. Nothing I was doing to myself was relieving this ache. I picked a towel off a hook, rolled it and laid on my stomach. It gave just enough pressure against my clit. The friction from the rumpled bed sheets moved across my nipples as I slid my fingers inside myself, screaming his name into the pillow as I came apart; finding relief but feeling dirty after what I made myself do to achieve it for the second time in the same day.

I smirked, with a glass of scotch in my hand, my eyes never left the screen. I kept her busy, cleaning my yacht all day, so my team could install hidden security cameras in her small bunk room. I’ve crossed the line beyond any doubt, since I ordered a waterproof one to be installed in her shower head.

Fuck, I’m hard.

Bree’s little chat with her worked. She’s never worked as a stew on a boat, but I know her former DOM. He asked me for this favor, so he could get some distance from her while courting her replacement. I granted the favor for him since he helped me unload Fiona.

Jessie spreads her soft pink lips; I smacked my own, watching the whole thing stream live from the camera in the crew mess to my iPad.

I’ve been watching her from day one, even when I was an ocean away. But only today did I ask for the cameras in her room to be installed. I knew that if I had done it sooner, I wouldn’t have been able to resist her. I’d blow up all the deals on my desk in my haste to claim her sweet cunt. The one she’s touching right now as she moans and writhes in her narrow bed. She pretends to be repulsed, but her inner dirty girl is surfacing.

I’m close. So close, from turning her no…to ayes.

“Christos,” she moaned, sliding her hand in deeper to play with herself. Her other hand circled her naked breasts. My mouth watered, hungering to take her plump buds into my mouth and roll them with my tongue. I knew the day would come when I would. I also know the taste of her tits on my tongue alone, might make me come.

I unzipped my pants, took myself out, stroking myself in live time with her while she panted in a metal bed three decks below my lavish stateroom. As she moaned my name, coming…I replied by shouting hers hoarsely as wave after wave of my hot cum spurted on the bedsheets.

I debated whether to make her clean my room again; making her witness my sticky seed that spilled in her name. But that could wait. The first time I want her anywhere near my cum, is when it’s gushing from her mouth.

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