The master of a sailing vessel is in charge of navigation, ensures everything runs smoothly, that the best sails are set, maintains the anchor and ropes, and he docks the ship.
Come on board the Sublime, a luxury yacht, which is cruising the seas, dipping in and out of ports. It has just two passengers.
Jason, taking a break from work, is not the master of his yacht, another fulfills the role, but he is the master of his wife, and it gives him plenty to think about.
***
Stretched out on a lounger in the aft area of the upper deck, Jason read a book. His khaki cargo shorts hung low about his hips; the blond hairs on his legs shone lighter as his skin tanned underneath. A baseball hat kept his face sheltered from the bright sunbeams, and he was content to take in the sun and smell the salt air.
Work occupied his mind, an unfortunate intrusion of thoughts constantly interrupting his leisurely reading. He substituted these unwanted thoughts with those of his wife. She would be naked up on the sundeck, her henna tattoos creating a pattern of suntan that would be revealed once the dye had faded.
The idea of temporarily marking her had come to him one day as he watched a group of Asian women walk down the street. His car was stuck in traffic, and he had time to see their hands. The rest of the bodies were covered by colourful saris. The image of Gemma with decorated hands and feet tantalised him.
His groin stirred. If he had been at work, he would have refocused his mind on his daily tasks. This day, he didn’t have to. In fact, the opposite was possible. She was up there, ready and available. Sometimes he wished they were the only ones on the yacht, allowing him to use her freely, without the precautions of avoiding the eyes and ears of the ignorant crew. He would bend her over the rails and enter her, hair flowing in the breeze as Sublime sailed serenely in the water, or better still, tie her to the railings and whip her like during the days of buccaneers and pirates.
He had always told Gemma he didn’t role-play or act out fantasies. A half-truth. He was happy to use fantasies as inspirational notions or designs for his scenes. If Sublime were a sailing yacht rather than a motor yacht, he would have lashed her to a mast and fucked her. His cock hardened and, since he was on holiday, he would do as a Master should—use his slave for his own purposes.