The launch piloted by Kevin took them to visit Miramare Castle by the waterfront. Using a small nearby marina, they disembarked and walked through the castle’s parklands. Gemma’s face lit up at sight of the extensive gardens. They had all the elements she loved: ponds, gazebos, and winding paths connecting open spaces and woodlands.
“Gemma, we haven’t got all day. There is the castle, and we have tickets booked for a guided tour.”
“In English?”
“Naturally.” He took her hand firmly. She scurried alongside him.
Lubinsky trailed behind them by ten metres or so. Sufficiently far away for privacy, but close enough to leap into action. Modesto’s attack on her husband had no doubt ruffled Lubinsky’s pride, even though there had been nothing to indicate Modesto had a problem with Jason. As yet, Lubinsky had received no news from his sources about why Modesto may have done what he did. The word from Croatia was the drugs the medics had given the Filipino had turned him into a tranquilized zombie.
Lubinsky waited outside during the tour. Led from one ornate room to the next by their guide, Gemma leant against Jason’s chest while they listened to the history of the Austrian family who built it. Explanations of the eclectic architecture and the craftsmen who created the sumptuous furnishings.
She whispered, “Could we afford to buy a castle?”
“Probably. Lot of maintenance, though, and the heating bill would be extortionate,” he replied quietly. “Though a real dungeon does sound very appealing.”
A flush of blood shot across her body.
A car waited to take them to the cave outside the city’s perimeter. Along the way, they consumed a swift lunch in an Italian bistro—unexciting and a limited menu. Jason had promised something better for dining out in the evening.
“Caves,” said Gemma nervously as they drove along winding roads, up into the hills. “You know I don’t like confined spaces. I mean, if I have to crawl through—”
The finger flicked on her thigh, stopping her comments in mid-flow. She felt the familiar tug on her arm and his hot breath next to her ears.
“Where is the trust, Gemma? Would I take you somewhere that would freak you out?” he growled quietly.
“No. Sir.”
He let her arm go, and she stared out of the window. Restless clouds hovered about the sky, keeping the sun at bay. The dry air moved with a slight breeze, and the terrain was hilly and green.
Gemma loved the caves. Gigantic caverns, huge open spaces, well lit and airy. According to their guide, a cathedral’s dome could fit amongst the stalactites and dish-piled stalagmites. She had no sense of being enclosed. The roped walkways and steps laid out a path through the cave. Lights illuminated the rock features, casting ghostly shadows, and the sound of dripping water echoed everywhere.
Stopping in her tracks, she gawped. “I’ve never been in a cave before. I thought there would be little tunnels and freezing cold water to stand in.”
“The Giant Cave is the largest tourist cave in the world. You can put away thoughts of clambering around on your knees. Save that for me.” He gave her a mischievous smile, very toothy and wide. She loved his smiles.
They returned to Sublime close to four in the afternoon for cake and coffee. Gemma wanted to swim, sun bathe, and generally do all the things she had enjoyed during the cruise. Jason denied each request with a simple no. He retreated to his study, leaving her to read quietly. She refused to sulk at his responses. Instead, she wrote a final postcard to her parents.
***
“We’re eating out. When we return, I’ve decided to spank you.”
Gemma, resting on the bed, jerked her legs. A sense of foreboding rushed through her. “Why? You said you wouldn’t punish me.”
“It’s not a punishment. I wish to spank you. Let’s say it is to re-establish our dynamic in its proper place.” Jason loomed over the bed.
She opened her mouth to speak then thought better of it. He had used the word spank. Jason rarely requested a spanking. His preferred style was to tell her which implement he would be using and it gave her an idea of
his intentions—a whipping, a flogging, or a caning. Spanking could mean anything and left her uncertain. She slumped in despair, failing to see any erotic enticement in his wish.
Jason, upon seeing her deflated appearance, insisted she had two re-invigorating minutes in a cool shower. She didn’t find the shower refreshing. Consumed by thoughts of her impending spanking, she failed dismally to find excitement for the evening’s events.
Couldn’t he have told me after the meal?
One word echoed in her head.
Acceptance.
Her first Master had taught her being a submissive was more than the concept of simply submitting, of giving control to another over her life. There were other behaviours: obedience, willingness, and acceptance. She considered herself generally obedient, and she willingly gave her body for his pleasure or for her correction. What she struggled with was accepting it was going to happen. Staring at her reflection in the gilt-framed mirror, surrounded by the now familiar opulence of Sublime’s interior, Gemma doubted she had evolved at all over the cruise. Part of her felt like she had stepped backwards not forwards.