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Note: this is a story about domination and submission. If that's not your kink, please move on to a different story.
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The whole episode started rather innocently. Claire had gone to Seajay's for nothing more than a bucket of peel-and-eat shrimp, a cold beer, and to watch the sunset over the bay from the deck of her favorite restaurant.
Then she noticed Ian bounding up the dock from his sailboat toward the restaurant. What first caught her attention was the way his form-fitting, tattered blue jean shorts and muscle shirt showed off his tanned and muscular form. But it was the sparkle in his blue eyes, his easy smile and the self-assured way he carried himself that kept her stealing glances as he placed his order with the waitress at the next table. The third time his eyes caught her looking he invited her to join him. Truthfully, it wasn't like he even asked -- more like he summoned her to by pointing assertively to the empty seat across from him and nodding. In any event, she suddenly found herself joining him without another thought.
Maybe it was her uncharacteristic third beer, maybe it was that she was feeling more than a little depressed over her love life, or maybe it was his tantalizing British accent, but for some reason she found herself pouring out her soul to the handsome stranger. As the colors on the horizon faded from fiery crimson to pastel pink to ever deepening shades of gray, Claire disclosed the anguished details of her futile struggle to find a man who would be a "real man" - assertive, confident, and strong, yet loving and caring. As Ian listened intently and asked probing questions, she explained further that the kind of strength she sought wasn't from brutishness or arrogance, but quiet confidence and passionate, compelling strength. She relayed her constant disappointment in recent boyfriends who simply refused to take charge of their relationship and to take the lead, leaving her with control over all the decisions -- and she simply hated making decisions -- and seemingly over their entire relationship.
After several hours of intense conversation (and several more beers) Claire found herself aboard Ian's boat. But just as she had joined Ian at his table without ever really deciding to, so it was with way he sort of directed her to the boat with more of a summons than an invitation. Claire, a life-long sailor herself, greatly admired the well-built and well-rigged craft. She impressed Ian with her own knowledge of sailing, which she had gained through years of sailing with her father as a young girl, and since then on her own. Soon she found herself asking if they could take the boat out to "see what she could do."
With that, the two were headed into the darkness of the open bay. Remarkably, she hadn't any apprehension over the fact that she'd known Ian only a few hours; rather, she somehow felt strangely comfortable and secure with him. She immediately saw in him so much of what had been lacking in her recent relationships: inner strength, quiet confidence, and self-assuredness, but without a hint of the arrogance that so often accompanied such traits. Immediately she began tumbling into a sort of unconscious compliance, surrendering to his subtly commanding presence.
She followed each order he gave as the two sailed out into the bay, helping to hoist, lower and tie off various sails on the large boat. She even willingly complied when he told her to fetch him a beer from down below. Somehow serving this handsome stranger in this way felt like a privilege more than a chore. She briefly wondered whether she was simply allowing her lust for the gorgeous Brit to overpower her judgment, but pushed the doubts from her mind, deciding instead to simply follow the uniquely enjoyable experience wherever it might lead. Her trust in Ian was as undeniable as it was unjustifiable.
Some twenty minutes into the sail she was finally allowed to settle in next to him as he skillfully piloted the boat against the wind and sipped his beer. When he offered Claire a sip from his bottle, she declined, explaining that was already well past her limit and was feeling the effects of the five beers she drank at the restaurant. The couple chatted nonchalantly for a while, swapping sailing stories and other life experiences as if long-time friends instead of new acquaintances.
The conversation took a distinctly more intimate turn when Ian asked Claire whether she enjoyed sex at sea. She blushed at the question, and reluctantly admitted to having no experience on which to form an opinion in the matter. Without sharing any particular details of his own seafaring encounters, he made it clear that he thought she had been missing out on one of sailing's greatest fringe benefits.
When a sudden gust of cool breeze caused Claire to shudder slightly, Ian laughed out loud, "I'd offer you a jacket, but I rather like the way the cold is making your nipples stand out for me." Claire instinctively folded her arms over her breasts, covering the points that were jutting noticeably through her thin, sheer bra and lightweight cotton sleeveless top.
He gently but firmly pulled her arms down to her sides. "No, Miss," he corrected, "I said I like seeing your sweetly stiff nipples. They are so lovely, you mustn't cover them." Though she was surprised by the straightforwardness of his expressed desire, Claire nevertheless obediently left her arms at her sides where he had placed them, as her face flushed with embarrassment -- mixed with a definite hint of excitement.
She sat quietly pondering how effortlessly she had complied with Ian's wishes. Here was a man who knew what he wanted and who wasn't the list bit afraid to go after it. He directed her in such a strong yet affirming way that a strange delight welled up inside her as she did so. She found herself slipping into a submissive mindset that she had never experienced before.
When Claire shuddered again a few minutes later, Ian handed her the wheel and told her to just hold it steady. He hopped below deck and came up with a dark blue, hooded, fleece-line windbreaker. He sat back down and took the wheel back from her. Instead of handing her the jacket, however, he simply draped it over one knee, patting it lightly.
"I'll tell you what," he explained, "I'll let you wear this nice warm lined windbreaker, but first you'll need to remove your top for me." He attempted to mitigate the shock that came over Claire's face with humor. "Don't worry, the jacket will be plenty warm even without your shirt." Ian chuckled in a comforting way that made Claire laugh along with him.
"You're serious aren't you?" she stammered as she stared awkwardly at the deck, her laughter dissipating into the reality of his offer.
"Yes, Miss. I'm quite serious. Please remove your shirt for me."
Claire gave a moment's consideration to his proposition and its obvious consequences. What was it inside her that compelled her to give in to Ian's wishes, when on the surface it seemed at best like coercion and at worst like blackmail? Still she yielded to the compulsion and stood, turned her back to Ian, and began unbuttoning her top. "OK I'll do it, but you're damn lucky I had so much to drink."
Ian grabbed Claire's arm, stopping her after the first button was loosed. "Wait, Claire," he said emphatically. "I don't want you to do just do this because your resolve is weak from too much beer. I don't want you to do this out of weakness. Of course I want your compliance, but it has to come from the strength of your desire to do as I say. I want you to do this because you choose to please me."
His words rang in Claire's head with sobering clarity: "choose to please me." That was it. That was the chord that Ian had struck inside her that no man had struck before. Her inborn desire to please had never been brought to life so vibrantly before, because none of the men in her life had made it so clear what they desired. With Ian there were no guessing games, no indirect hints, no speculations, and no brutish groping. He made it easy for her to please him; she could act without risk in response to his clearly stated desires.
This sudden enlightenment crashed in on her as she slowly turned to face him. Looking directly into his intense blue eyes she stated confidently, "I choose to please you, Ian." Without turning her back, and while still staring into his sparkling eyes, her fingers went to work again on the buttons of her top.
"Slowly. Deliberately," Ian instructed. "Do it slowly for me."
Claire's head began to spin faster as one by one her fingers gently released the buttons, pausing a few seconds between each. When all the buttons were undone she paused, allowing her top hang slightly open. The cool wind blew through her open shirt, amplifying the chill of exhilaration that was already making its way through her body.
"That's wonderful, Miss" Ian encouraged her. "Now hold your shirt open for me. Show me." She slowly drew the two sides apart, exposing her thin, sheer bra, whose translucence left her dark pink nipples mostly visible, even in the dim light cast by the boat's running lights. She couldn't help but note the pleasure in his smile, and smiled in return.
"Oooh, lovely," he exclaimed. "Those are quite lovely. And I must compliment you on your taste in lingerie." Claire blushed so deeply that her face burned despite the chill. She fought the instinct to look away as Ian's cool blue eyes eagerly drank her in, and continued opening the shirt wider until the top fell from her shoulders. She let it drop to the deck behind her.
"Can I please have the jacket now," she pleaded with a shiver as she eyed the jacket, still resting over Ian's knee.
"Not just yet," he replied. "Now the bra."
Claire protested the sudden change in the terms of their bargain. "But you only said I'd have to take off my top."
"And you said you wish to please me. Did you mean that?"
"Yes. I did. I mean I do. I mean..." she paused, trying to figure what exactly what she did mean by her earlier words.
"If you would rather you can just put your shirt back on. I'll still give you the jacket," Ian offered, seeing her struggling with the dilemma. Claire knew he was testing the depth of her willingness to submit to his desires, and she sensed the criticality of the juncture. Yet she had no experience or frame of reference upon which to draw. This was new, uncharted territory -- a new paradigm. In the end, though, her desire to go wherever he led won out.
"OK," was all she said; yet Ian understood the profound meaning of those two letters. All Claire really understood was that she was surrendering herself to a man she barely knew, but a man that had brought to life something inside her that had never been touched before.
