“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, her head turned slightly to where Enrique stood behind her.
“Not very convincing. You can do better,” Jason said coldly. “I sent him to be with you. I hoped you might want to discuss his artwork or engage him in pleasant conversation, but instead you treated him disrespectfully. His position on this yacht does not warrant insolence from you, does it?” His hands rested on his hips.
“No, Sir.” She stared at his bare feet.
“You need a lesson in humility. A reminder of your status.” Reaching down he took hold of her ponytail and proceeded to lead her along to the large square lounger.
“We’ll need to gag her, Enrique.”
The other man had followed behind. “A napkin?”
“Good.” Jason positioned her on the canopied lounger, stripping away her towel and bending her over the end.
She said nothing, lips pressed firmly together, resigned to her fate. Part of her wanted to fight back. The gesture would be futile and counterproductive. Jason bound the napkin around her mouth. She didn’t struggle, but neither did she cooperate.
“Enrique will hold your wrists.”
The Mexican clambered onto the lounger before her and crossed her wrists, gripping them tightly and pulling her up until her she was on tiptoes. Gemma closed her eyes, trying to hide the mortifying presence of Enrique.
She waited to see what Jason would do—a fuck or spank?
Breathless and flushed, one part of her wanted to be used by the two men and another part was filled with trepidation and dread that she wouldn’t be up
to the challenge. It didn’t matter about her fantasy. Jason would never permit another man to fuck her.
Gemma was grateful for the few seconds to compose herself and take the necessary deep breaths. She could hear him move about somewhere behind. A clinking of glasses, or something. She imagined a cool liquid slipping down her throat. Was that his intention, to give her a drink? She doubted it, he had already gagged her. Laying her face to one side, she rested a cheek on the soft fabric of the lounger. She waited, searching her memories. The tinkling sound was vaguely familiar. A game Jason had played before, a long time ago. She swallowed hard as she began to recall the punishment.
An intense icy sensation dripped between the groove of her buttocks, and she jumped—ice cubes.
She hadn’t anticipated he would torment her hot pussy with freezing ice. Previously, he had chosen her poor anus. In the heat of the day, the shock of the frozen water inserted into her blazing pussy made her shriek into the improvised gag.
Jason trailed each cube down the cleft of her buttocks before slipping it into her dripping hole. The intense sensation took her to the precipice of pain and pleasure.
Her eyes sprung open, and she saw Enrique grinning, not at her, but over her shoulder at Jason. Another ice cube journeyed down her spine. It felt brutally cold on her sun-drenched skin. She stamped her feet on the decking, resisting the temptation to kick the lounger. Jason slapped her bottom hard. She yelped into the makeshift gag. Other smacks followed, alternating between her buttocks. Iced and spanked, the combination sent her into a quivering mess of a near, but never realised, orgasm.
Jason’s slender fingers stretched, probed, and teased her with the slippery ice. As a coup de grace, he took one last ice cube and pressed it against her anal bud. With a squeal, she sucked it inside her, and there it rested, burning cold until it triggered a tremendous orgasm. The napkin, stuffed in her mouth, silenced her cries.
She basked in further orgasms by the time Jason finished fucking her icy interior. He gasped as he penetrated her. Wide, wet, and taut from the effects of the ice, she relished his thrusts. Water leaked out of her anus, triggering another orgasm. She felt humiliated again, especially with Enrique watching, but this time, unlike in the pool, she wallowed in the experience.
Afterwards, the men sat for a while in the Jacuzzi while she regained her wits. They helped themselves to beer from the fridge and joked about old times. The early days of Jason’s life as a Dominant, his first cruise. Gemma, sufficiently recovered to walk over to the pool, knelt at the edge. Her hair was a mess, her body sticky and red in places, especially her bottom.
“I’m very sorry I was disrespectful to you, Enrique. I would love to know more about your artistic skills. Really, I would. Sorry,” she said softly.
“Please, Señora Gemma. Let us start again. Sí? We can be gracious adults together, and then your beloved Master will be a happy man. Sí?”
“Yes. I want to keep my Master happy.”
“I will leave now, señor. Your beautiful sub needs you. She looks like a little lost girl, señor.” He rose out of the pool and collected his clothes.
“Thank you, Enrique,” called out Jason as the other man disappeared towards the stairwell.
Jason touched Gemma’s head with his wet hand, dripping water down her face. “Come join me in here,” he told her. “Warm up that arse.”
“You will find my exterior is plenty warm. I’m a little stunned by the whole scene.”
“Let me take care of you, babe, yes?” He stroked her hair out of her face.
“Please, Sir,” she said quietly.