Judged by Him (23 page)

“They saw us?” Gemma was mortified.

“Sí. I sent them back down. To your main salon, away from the crew. Señor Marshall is seriously pissed off, señora. He does not understand what he saw.” Enrique cringed as Jason threw a rope bundle at Enrique’s chest with force.

“How did it come to be unlocked?” Jason paced up and down.

“I do not know. I shall ask Maria. She was changing the linen.”

Gemma lay back and covered her eyes with her hands. What fate awaited the unfortunate little Maria?

“This is bad, Jason. John probably wants to punch your lights out at the moment.” She stood up and reached for her robe. “I will speak to them.” She slipped on the white satin gown.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Jason asked haltingly.

She rubbed her eyes, blinking in the bright sunlight.

“Yes. Let me pacify him. You would incense him. Please, Jason. My brother.”

Jason drew her into an embrace. “Okay, babe. Call me if it gets out of hand. I shall be talking to Maria.”

Gemma felt a pang of sympathy for Maria. A Jason interrogation with him a bad mood wouldn’t be an endearing experience.

As Gemma headed down the staircase, she felt increasingly angry. At Maria for leaving the lock off the door. At John and Andrea for blatantly going where they had been asked not to go—up to their private deck without permission. Enrique’s absence when he should have been monitoring the deck. Where had the man gone? By the time she reached the bottom step, she had convinced herself she should feel no shame or apologise for what her brother had witnessed.

“Gemma....” Her face stopped John dead. Lips set tight and her hands folded across her chest.

“
You bloody idiots.
How dare you intrude, spy on us like a pair of peeping toms. I thought you understood the nature of my relationship with Jason, the sex we engage in, and the privacy we demand due to it.
How could you, John!
”

Andrea, red-faced, stared at her wriggling toes.

John stood up and approached his sister with a face that seemed to Gemma as if it was going to explode in an apoplectic fit. “You’re not staying here, Gemma, with
that
man!”

“Don’t be bloody ridiculous, John. Have you heard nothing of what I’ve been saying?” Gemma snapped back.

“
That
man—”

“Is my husband. The man I love and trust with my life!”

Gemma reached out and grabbed her brother’s flailing arms by the wrists. A strong man, but her touch halted his aggressive posturing.

“John,
please
listen to me. Open your mind and listen.” Gemma was used to pleading. An expert at begging and supplication. The imploring eyes and the beseeching tone, she practised with Jason came in useful with her brother.

John closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose, almost a snort. “All right. Explain to me. Explain what the hell you two were doing up there. Because all I saw was a woman tied up, gagged, in pain, and being fucked like a piece of meat. At this precise moment, all I want to do is punch his lights out and take you back home. So this better be convincing.” He stepped back, arms folded tightly across his chest, legs astride.

Andrea had melted into the background, leaving Gemma in a standoff with her brother.

She stood with hands on hips. “What do you want to know? Jason and I fuck. Big deal. Anal sex, too. When I have my period, he fucks my bum, and do you know what? I love it. He is bloody good at it. I was trained to take a good fuck up the arse, and we both know what we’re doing. It doesn’t hurt, and you only think it’s painful because that is your and Andrea’s experience. Take my word for it. It can be fantastic when done properly.”

Adrenaline coursed through her bloodstream. An unusually cathartic rant on her part. Talking about her sex life with friends usually required her to remain quiet or keep her comments as subtle nuances. Spilling out her opinion to John, the image of her erotic pursuits, changed from a sepia, underdeveloped photograph into a colourful, vibrant picture representing everything that made sex a wondrous part of life.

Her brother shuffled about listening to her talk unequivocally about sex. “Okay, what about the blindfold and gag?”

“Christ, John. We’re outside. Sound carries. I don’t want the crew to hear me scream. My screams of sheer delight. It saves me embarrassment. Jason has the willpower to stay silent. I’m useless. Hence, the gag. If I have to communicate, we use gestures. I’ve told you this before, last year. Remember? The blindfold means I’m not distracted and I’m focused. On him.”

“You looked in pain. Don’t lie to me. I know you too well. Don’t tell me what he was doing didn’t hurt you.”

Gemma took stock of his words. The explanation wouldn’t be straightforward. He was nailing the target of his ire. Her legs wobbled as the adrenaline began to decline in her system. She walked past him and took a seat in a chair. Normally, she wouldn’t be having an intense conversation with someone after sex. At least, anyone but Jason. She missed his calming tone and gentle caresses.

“Bondage. I don’t see the fuss.” She added with a vicious tone, “And I think it’s rich coming from you, John. You tied Andrea up with bloody garden twine. Your little attempt at bedroom kink. Remember?”

Andrea came across from her side stage position and took John’s hand as he digested the barbed remark.

Gemma continued. “That isn’t the point. He wasn’t hurting me. I leant back and pulled on the rope, giving myself pain. Sometimes, the longer the wait, the better the climax.” She bit her lip, waiting for John to assimilate the explanation of what he had seen.

But he shook his head. “I don’t understand all this control business. Doesn’t he want you to have a good time?”

The question caused a rush of butterflies in her belly, not from excitement but dread. She hated the implication. “Yes, of course he does,” she said. “When he wishes, when it pleases him. I can’t explain any more than I have. You have to trust me when I say we love each other, and what you witnessed was moderate play by our standards. We do make love, too, you know. Romantic-type vanilla sex.”

John laced his fingers together. They had ceased to tremble.

“You like pain, Gemma? You’ve told me this before, I know, but John....” Andrea hesitated. “You need to make him understand. He doesn’t get it.”

Gemma had to bite the bullet. She felt backed into a corner, and the anger she had arrived with had been replaced with a need to confess, to have it out in the open once and for all.

“I use a certain kind of pain to make me feel pleasure—intense erotic pleasure. I don’t expect you to understand. I consent to everything. Consensual acts. Controlled by safe-words. Jason knows my limits. Please don’t be repulsed. It’s what I am, and I’m not changing or leaving him because you can’t handle the thought of your little sister being her husband’s sex slave. That’s what I am. His sex slave. My purpose as his submissive is to please him, nothing else, and doing so gives me great satisfaction. There, I’ve said it.”

She buried her head in her hands. There was nowhere to hide. What was said couldn’t be taken back. A collective silence descended. John returned to his chair and slumped back with a sigh.

“Where do we go from here?” John asked the air, fingers running through his sweaty hair.

The sound of Jason answering lifted Gemma. She didn’t care whether her husband would be annoyed with her revelations or not. Perhaps she had expressed herself badly or inappropriately. He would tell her later when they were alone, she was sure of that.

***

“Nowhere.” Jason arrived from the bottom of the stairs. “You don’t have to go anywhere. I’m not going to throw you off the yacht or ruin your holiday. Though you came close to destroying Gemma’s and mine through your ignorance and selfishness, John.”

He moved farther into the room. He had heard Gemma’s final statements and been furious she had been made to expose the true nature of their relationship. He suspected John’s anger had been directed at him, but she had sacrificed her own dignity to placate her brother. Determined not to show his rage, he tried hard to relax his facial features.

“Gemma!” He employed the familiar tone he used to call her to his feet, and she went there and knelt. Head bowed and hands resting on her thighs, ignoring her brother, she rightly chose to focus on Jason.

“Are you all right?” He rested his hand on the top of her head.

“Yes, Sir.” Her trembling voice didn’t convince him.

“You don’t sound all right. Go, have a shower, and dress yourself. We’ll wait for you here. Don’t rush.” He lifted her chin up with his hand and gave her a reassuring smile.

“Thank you, Sir.” She brushed away a solitary tear. Jason wasn’t mad at her, instead he surged with pride at her overt display of submission before her brother. His hands cupped her face and as she rose up, his lips met hers, allowing him to linger and taste her.

“I love you, babe,” he murmured. “Go.”

With his wife gone, he turned his attention to his brother-in-law.

John stayed seated, a statue with a drawn expression. Jason offered him a glass of cold water, and he took it. John’s hand trembled as he sipped the liquid. Could his brother-in-law ever come to terms with all he had been told, or would he have to cast Gemma aside, unable to rebuild a relationship with his little sister? The matter, in Jason’s opinion, had to be resolved for the last time.

Jason sat opposite John, waiting patiently for the younger man to collect his thoughts. There was no rush. Prior to arriving on the deck, Jason had already dispensed one lecture to an ill-disciplined woman, and he wasn’t really in the mood to vent his spleen a second time.

Maria had been found by Enrique and been brought to the sundeck while Gemma placated her brother on the deck below. When Jason told Maria she must have left the door unlocked, she had been horrified, especially after Enrique had told her what had happened on the flybridge. She had gone white.

She told them what she had done, the pile of laundry she had been carrying. The need to leave the door ajar so she could carry her load. The door she had left open connected the sundeck to the main deck, a back entrance on the aft side of the yacht rather than the main amidships stairwell. She wouldn’t have anticipated that during the few minutes she had left the door open it would have been chanced upon by the other guests.

Jason had been furious at her stupidity. She’d tried to explain her absentminded actions, and he had ripped into her. Reminding her the most important rule he had asked them to comply with was ensuring privacy. She had failed, and he would not consider any excuses. She would be punished. Jason then asked Enrique to carry it out after their guests had left the yacht. He would witness the penalty. In meantime, she would offer her profuse apologies to Gemma.

John placed a half-empty glass of water on the coffee table and stared Jason squarely in the eyes.

Before descending from the sundeck, he had covered his bare torso with a long-sleeved, white shirt, and now he proceeded to roll up the sleeves with slow twists of his fingers. John flinched, as if Jason was about to engage in a bare-knuckle fight.

Jason spoke into the tense silence. “Contrary to my wife’s derogatory description of her status, she is not in reality my slave in the true definition of the word. She consents. Slave represents the terminology we choose to use to help define our roles. She is quite plainly my beloved wife. I will spend every last penny of my wealth, every part of me to keep her protected and safe. She also happens to be my submissive to my Dominant. She relinquishes part of her life for me to control, and that is mainly sexual in practice. For Gemma and myself, there is nothing contradictory about the dichotomy. We have no issues being both things. I’m not saying we exist in a fantasy world. Being a Dom and sub are real facets of us, our personalities, and are not acted out. Gemma and I will talk about play, scenes, and we will address each other in a different way, different tones of voices. However, such distinctions do not trivialise or make a joke of what we do together. Do you understand what I’m saying?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. I think so,” John said. “I don’t think I will ever understand why she lets you treat her that way, even if she consents. However, I respect it is her life, her choice. I’m sorry about the intrusion. We have forced you and Gemma yet again to reveal aspects of your life that are private and none of our business. You have to appreciate she is my sister and will always be my sister, whatever happens in your relationship with her. You must understand how strongly I feel in my regard to my sister. Your need to protect her is the same as mine, Jason.”

John held his gaze, and Jason rewarded with a small nod.

“Good,” continued Jason. “Please be clear on this, how you see us behave—as Master and slave—is a feature of our time together on
this
cruise. Both of us agreed it is how we wish to spend our vacation together. Don’t judge us based on one snapshot. Once we return home, we shall return to our normal arrangement, and Gemma will only be my submissive in the bedroom. Well, mostly in the bedroom.” Jason smiled; he missed his dungeon. “Let us try and pick up the pieces of this mess and move on. End this weekend on a better note?”

Andrea shifted in her seat. “Sure. What about Gemma. Is she okay? I mean....”

“I will go to her now. Please return to the main deck. I’m sure we will join you shortly.” Jason rose and stepped out of the way of the departing couple. “Lunch will be served very soon.”

***

Jason found Gemma drying her hair. Alone.

“Where is Maria?” he asked.

“I sent her away. She apologised, but I didn’t want her.”

Gemma put down her brush, and Jason picked it up, continuing to brush her damp, long strands. Taking the hair dryer, he carried on the task she had started.

“God. I feel drained. I think I said too much,” she said hesitantly.

“Perhaps for the best. There is no hiding the nature of our relationship any longer. I take it you lost your temper with him?” He switched off the dryer.