Submission at Sea

Author's Note

Imagine a large, luxury yacht, transformed into a floating kink club—two performance spaces, gourmet meals, and dedicated personal escorts—making a regular circuit around the Caribbean. Men and women might book anonymous passage on this ship for a relaxing week of sex tourism. Local girls might flock to it as a way to make more money than they had ever dreamed possible. And after a while, those local girls might become jaded and look for a better life, doing something else.

*

Submission at Sea

"Fifteen minutes until passenger boarding," came the ship-wide announcement from the cabin's voice-assistant.

Mia stood naked at the chest high bureau as she penned her note.

If you permit me to speak, I will happily tell you all that this ship has to offer. My safe word is red.

She then slipped into a shear, white frock, pulled her dark, curly hair back into a ponytail, securing it with a white scrunchy, and pinned her note to the frock just above the dusky outline of her left nipple. Mia moved to a short distance from front of the cabin door and knelt, spreading her knees and crossing her arms behind her back. She bowed her head and waited.

*

Administrative Offices Below Deck, Two Days Prior

"Mia, come in. Have a seat." Claire, a buxom middle-aged blonde who spoke the Queen's English, flashed a mouthful of perfectly straight, white teeth as she gestured to an empty seat beside her desk. She waited for Mia to be seated down and then sat herself down across the desk.

"What can I do for you, Mia?" Claire said.

"I think I need a vacation. Some time off."

Claire frowned. "Oh, Mia, I'm sorry to hear that. You're one of my most sought after girls. You know that, right?" Claire quickly turned her frown into a wan smile as she patted Mia's hand. She knit her brow. "Was it your last assignment? I heard it got a little rough."

Mia nodded.

"Our health coverage does include scar removal treatments," Claire said, turning to her laptop and punching at the keys. "There's a clinic in Martinique that does a laser procedure. Let's see, here it is. In and out in two hours with guaranteed results."

Claire turned her chair and leaned in closer to Mia. "Or..." she said. "Or you could keep them as a badge of honor. I happen to know that some of our clients would actually pay more for a girl with a few scars. Fuels their imagination I suppose."

"I still think I need some time off."

"Oh, Mia." Claire frowned. "You're one of my best girls. How about if I find you a nice female client? Lick a little pussy while you take some time to think it over. Could you do that for me?"

Claire put a hand on Mia's shoulder and looked directly into her eyes. "I'd hate to see you give up everything you have here and go crawling back to that little tourist shack where I found you. Selling cheap knock-off jewelry is no way for a girl with your talents to make a living."

Mia shifted her gaze to her lap and sighed. "No ma'am."

"That's the spirit." Claire flashed another toothy smile. "And just so you know, Mia, we're upgrading our voice-assistant software to monitor for safe words. So now if you can't reach the panic button... It won't happen again, Mia. I assure you."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Chin up, Mia. Maybe buy yourself a nice dress next time we're in port. You've earned it."

"Yes, ma'am."

"One more thing," Claire said. "Will you be a dear and send that lovely Angelique in?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Mia spied Angelique's lanky, bikini-clad frame leaning up against the wall in the ship's corridor. She was chewing gum and kicking at the carpet with her bare toe. Mia stood face to face with the dark skinned girl and touched a finger to her chin. Angelique smiled, and the two engaged in a long and passionate kiss.

"Boss wants to see you," Mia said. She trailed a finger lightly down the length of Angelique's nose before coming to rest on her chin and giving her one final peck on the cheek. "Bye, baby."

*

Mia's Client's Cabin, Present Day

The door opened and Mia found herself looking at a pair of very expensive women's designer shoes. The wearer walked right past where Mia was kneeling and began to pace the perimeter of the room. "I suppose this will have to do," she mumbled.

"Oh, and what's this?" Mia's client said, tugging at the note pinned to Mia's frock. "If you permit me to speak..." she said. "Hmph. No, I do not."

Mia kept her eyes to the floor, but unfolded her arms and raised her hands. In perfectly rehearsed American Sign Language she said, "I also speak ASL, and French."

"I don't know what that was with your hands just now," Mia's client said, "but the answer is no."

Mia's shoulders fell for just a moment, but she quickly straightened up and crossed her arms behind her back again. Her client's finger was tugging at the neckline of her frock.

"I've just had a rather infuriating flight down here to San Juan, so what I would really like is for you to spare me the small talk and undress yourself. Then you may properly attend to my needs."

Mia nodded. She again unfolded her arms, and placed her hands on the hemline of her frock.

"Slowly," her client said.

Mia watched the expensive designer shoes marching over to a corner club chair as she took her time slipping the frock over her head.

"Good," said her client. "Now, crawl over here and let me get a better look at you."

Mia kept her head low as she took long, slow strides to cover the short distance to the club chair where her client was seated and waiting. With Mia's body still hunched forward, her client touched a finger to the back of Mia's neck and traced downward until she touched the first of Mia's recent scars.

"I see you like it a little a little rough, hmm?"

Mia said nothing.

"You'll be disappointed to know that I'm not really that kind of girl." Mia's client moved her finger to trace out another scar as Mia shivered. "But I expect nothing less than total obedience. I was told I could expect that on this cruise. I hope you don't disappoint—"

The room's voice-assistant interrupted with another ship-wide announcement. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are now departing San Juan. Safety regulations require that we conduct a muster drill. Your escorts will assist you."

Mia stood up. "Apologies, ma'am. Safety first."

Mia's client frowned, but nodded.

The voice assistant continued. "In the event of an emergency, there are four life boats: orange, green, blue, and purple."

Mia pointed to the safety placard, outlined in orange, on the back of the door.

"Follow the lighted path from your cabin door to your nearest muster station. The lights are color coded for your station. If you are in one of the public spaces during an emergency, simply follow your color. Escorts and crew will guide you."

"This way, please, ma'am. Our color is orange." Mia, still naked, opened the cabin door. She pointed to the marching lights embedded in the floor as she guided her client to the stairwell leading to the top deck.

Cabin doors opened and various couples and trios spilled into the corridor. Escorts in various states of dress and undress were quickly and efficiently guiding their clients toward the stairwell. Mia saw Angelique up ahead, scantily clad, sandwiched between a man and a woman who may or may not have been his wife.

"If we ever become separated," Mia said to her client, "just follow the lights and I'll find you."

Her client nodded as they joined the press.

"You're not colorblind are you? Sorry, I have to ask."

"No."

"It seems crowded," Mia said, "but that's only because everyone is out at the same time. Once we're fully underway—"

"Let's save the small talk and get this lifeboat thing over with, shall we?"

"Yes, ma'am."

*

Back in Mia's Client's Cabin

Mia stood ramrod straight and perfectly still, looking forward with her fingers laced behind her head. Her client was leaning back in the club chair, legs crossed, while trailing a fingernail slowly up the back of Mia's thigh.

"You're pretty, I'll give you that." Mia's client tapped at the inside of her knee. Mia spread her feet to the width of her shoulders.

Her client moved the finger that had been doing the tracing, and without warning, plunged it deep into Mia's sex. Mia bit her lip, but made no sound.

"Nice and tight," her client said. "I would have thought a girl like you would feel a little more... used."

Mia said nothing as her client pulled her finger back and began rubbing Mia's juices against her puckered backdoor. "Or maybe you're the kind of girl who only likes it in her ass."

Mia bit down on her lip again as her client pressed in hard and fast.

"Fetch a cloth and wipe your filth off my finger."

Mia did as she was told and walked toward the basin just outside of the en suite facilities.

"Fetch another while you're at it so you can rub my feet. Make sure it's nice and hot." Mia's client was smirking as she kicked off her shoes.

"On your knees, girl."

Mia knelt forward, saying nothing, as she began gently washing her client's hands and feet. Her client sank back into the chair with a sigh.

"This is how our night is going to go," Mia's client said. "When I'm satisfied that you've finished with my feet, I'm going to stand up so that you can undress me. You will do so quickly and efficiently, and not handle me, is that understood? If I feel like I'm being handled, I won't hesitate to trade you in for another girl."

Mia nodded and continued working on her client's feet.

"You will wash all of this sticky airport slime off of me, then you will wrap me in one of these lovely silk robes I see hanging by the towels. After that, you may escort me to dinner. On your hands and knees. Is that clear?"

Mia nodded a second time. Her client stood up, and Mia crawled over to the en suite to fetch a clean cloth.

*

Outside of Club Phobos

Mia made her way down the port side inner corridor of the ship, one level below where her client's cabin was situated. There was only one other couple in view, a male client dressed in a casual, but expensive looking suit, with a naked brown-skinned girl, walking alongside, smiling and draped over his arm. Mia was still crawling on her hands and knees.

"Club Phobos," Mia's client spoke. "A club named after the god of panic and fear. Well, I certainly hope it's not a critique of the food here."

Mia shook her head, but her client did not notice.

A hostess in a black and white body-painted tuxedo seated Mia's client at one of the small club tables situated around a central stage of pentagonal design. The second chair at the table was quickly whisked away as soon as it was understood that Mia would be kneeling, and a menu was brought out.

"Tonight's special is the Chilean sea bass with chimichurri sauce and a choice of sides, including a delicious wilted spinach, watercress and mustard green—"

"That sounds fine." Mia's client waved her hand.

"Very good." The hostess bowed slightly. "And for your escort, ma'am?"

"Something she can eat without the benefit of utensils, I suppose."

"Yes, ma'am."

All around Club Phobos, couples and trios were being seated for the evening meal. Mia spotted Angelique and glanced in her direction. Angelique was seated on the lap of her male client while the woman he was with sat pressed up against his right side. Neither of Angelique's hands were visible, and the man and woman appeared to be lost in a passionate lip-lock.

Up above and around the sides of the two-story Club Phobos, other couples and trios relaxed on their balconies, sipping at drinks and munching on room-service appetizers, with some already taking in the view of the empty stage below.

A light murmur passed around the room as the first of the performers appeared—a tall, brown and muscular woman with kinky, short-cropped hair. Her attire for the evening seemed to consist entirely of a mask hiding her eyes, along with a few well-placed leather straps and silver buckles. She opened her case and began to arrange her various instruments of pain, ranging from short riding crops and multi-tailed floggers, to still-coiled full-length bullwhips.

The murmur gave way to a collective gasp as the evening's second performer was brought out, a lithe, young blonde with pale skin, suspended by leather straps at her wrists and ankles inside a large, square frame constructed of rough timbers. The heavy wooden frame was hoisted up to the stage by a number of leather-clad assistants and secured into place.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Club Phobos," came an announcement over the club's sound system. At the same time, a layer of mist covered the stage as fog machines hissed from below.

"In a less civilized time," the announcement continued, "on the very islands where we are cruising, it was not uncommon to hear the crack of the whip and the cry of anguish in the night. Tonight, for your dinner entertainment, we give you a small taste of those dark days, this time with the full consent of both parties.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Mistress Nala, and her slave Kathleen."

Up on stage, Mistress Nala spent a long time flexing her muscles and circling her slave, while Kathleen hung her head, unable or unwilling to move. Nala was still studying the various instruments of pain in her collection, when the kitchen doors opened and dinner selections began streaming forward.

Each table's dinner order was laid out on the body of a handful of naked women, lashed to long wooden planks, and each carried by two muscular female attendants. The body-painted hostesses fetched the plates from these living trays and delivered them to their final destinations.

Mia's client watched as her sea bass was brought down and set in front of her. Mia's cavatappi with sun-dried tomatoes and caper cream sauce was placed on the floor in front of where she knelt. No utensils were laid out for Mia.

Up on stage, Mistress Nala held in her hand a short, three-tailed flogger. As soon as the servers had retreated into the kitchen, she laid the first blow across Kathleen's buttocks, causing a high-pitched shriek to escape the fair-haired girl's lips. Down on the club floor, Mia winced while the crowd oohed and ahhed.

Finally, the clattering of silverware was nearly enough to drown out the cracks of the whip, but Kathleen's screeching cut through every time. And every time, Mia winced. Until, finally, she felt fingers in her hair as her client hoisted her head upward. "I hope you've gotten your fill, we're leaving."

Mia struggled to her feet while her client never eased her grip on Mia's hair.

Once in the ship's corridor, Mia was forced down to crawling again. "I read in the brochure that they take volunteers," Mia's client said. "Maybe tomorrow Kathleen could have a break, while Mistress Nala goes to work on you for a while."

Mia stumbled, and nearly fell face first onto the carpeted floor of the corridor. She quickly righted herself and kept going as her client berated her for being clumsy.

*

Mia's Client's Cabin

Mia's client opened the door to her cabin, and Mia came crawling in after. The housekeeping staff had been there to turn down the bed and also to leave a complementary boxed selection of sex toys on the pillow.

Mia's client opened the black velvet-lined rosewood box to reveal two sizes of vibrators and a graduated selection of three anal plugs. Nestled between everything was a large bottle of lubricant.

Mia's client picked up the largest of the anal plugs and held it up to Mia's face. "Suck on it," she said. "That's all the lube you get."

Mia opened her mouth while her client laid a hand on her shoulder, pressing Mia face first onto the bed.

While Mia gritted her teeth and chewed her lip, her client mercilessly pressed until the plug was situated. Mia's client tugged a little and watched as the tapered base resulted in it being sucked back in.

"Don't take it out without my permission."

Mia moaned. Her client smiled.

*

The Island of Martinique

In the morning, a chartered tour bus pulled around to the back entrance of a specially chosen jewelry shop at a prearranged time. Clients and their escorts, some scantily clothed and others completely naked, walked the few short steps from the bus to the store. Mia was the only one of the bunch to be on her hands and knees.

"Nipple clamps," Mia's client said to the first store attendant she found. "They tell me I can't have her pierced, so find me some clamps. Something cruel."

The shopkeeper, a young woman not so different in appearance than Mia, reached below the counter and pulled forth a silk-lined tray, full of various artistic pieces, all designed with one specific purpose—to pinch. Mia's client selected a pair of cast silver Sobek crocodile heads, in ancient Egyptian style, complete with beady eyes and mouths full of jagged teeth. Mia's knees buckled slightly as she looked at them.

Just as Mia was regaining her feet, Angelique came over accompanied by her client couple.

"Excuse me ma'am," the gentleman said. "We understand that our girl and your girl know each other. And, well, we were wondering if maybe you'd like to—"

"No," said Mia's client. "I'm sure I wouldn't."

While Mia's client was busy staring down the unwanted invitation, Mia looked the saleswoman straight in the eye, shifted her gaze to her client, and then stuck out her tongue while making a retching face.

The young saleswoman surreptitiously reached under the counter, pulled out a small, clear plastic bag stuffed with a small bundle of serrated-edge leaves. She dropped it on the floor and kicked it over to Mia. "Sorry, love." The saleswoman frowned. "Two, maybe three days rest in there for you."

Mia mouthed the words, "Thank you," just before being hauled up by her hair and having the nipple clamps dropped, one at a time, on her tender flesh. Mia gritted her teeth. A tear began leaking from the corner of her eye.

"Let's find you a dress, girl. I'm planning on sampling the local cuisine and I don't suppose they'll let me in any decent restaurants with a naked floozy by my side."

Mia groaned and traipsed along behind, plastic bag clutched firmly in her right hand.

*

Cafe Paris, Martinique

"Ah, just like gay old Paris," Mia's client said, pronouncing Paris so that it came out as Pair-ee. "Not that I suppose you've ever been there." She cracked the end off a baguette and dropped it on Mia's plate.

Mia fingered the plastic bag in her hand.

The salad course came and Mia made her move. While her client was busy gawking at the tourists and dealing out a constant commentary of their shortcomings, Mia tore the leaves into tiny pieces and sprinkled them over her client's salad.

About two hours after lunch, Mia's client suggested that they go back to the ship.

*

Mia's Client's Cabin

"Oh, I thought this only happened on those other cruise lines." Mia's client was hunched over the toilet in the en suite. She draped her hand over the lever and flushed.

Mia came with a moist cloth and dabbed at her client's mouth.

"Hmph. Thanks."

Mia set the cloth aside and touched her fingers to her own lips. Her client looked at her sideways. Mia touched her lips again.

"Oh," said her client. "Yes, I permit you to speak. What is it."

"Mistress, if you wish, I can fetch your supper from the dining room and bring it up. Perhaps some clear broth to start with?"

"Yes," her client croaked, "I could probably have some broth."