Ivorie's Surprise [Golden Dolphin] (Siren Publishing Classic) (6 page)

He smiled the open smile she was coming to enjoy. “It was my pleasure, Ivorie. Tacky souvenir shops aside, it was fun.”

They were joined by a couple who introduced themselves as Chris and Jenni Turner. He owned car dealerships in the Midwest, and she was a mother and homemaker. They were an attractive couple, a few years older than she and Drew, and looked as normal and average as could be imagined. They were beautifully dressed and appeared to be affluent. Ivorie had an idea what one of the midlevel suites cost per week, and it was substantial. Their dress and demeanor certainly did not shout, “BDSM aficionados here!” Ivorie smiled to herself. She apparently had a lot to learn about this lifestyle and the people who practiced it.

Chris smiled at them and said, “Have you guys tried out the dungeon yet? Jenni and I were thinking about checking it out after dinner. I heard that Greg and Natasha might be giving a demonstration down there tonight to get things rolling. That should be really interesting.”

Jenni smiled at her husband. Her big brown eyes were twinkling as she said, “Let’s not waste any time, babe. I can’t wait to see what facilities they have on board.”

Drew smiled at Ivorie and said, “No, we haven’t tried it out yet. Maybe we’ll take a stroll downstairs after dinner and watch the demonstration. What do you say, babe?”

Ivorie almost choked as some of the sweet, icy drink slid down the wrong pipe. Drew pounded her on the back a few times and said, “Okay, babe?”

She choked a bit more. “I’m fine. Whatever you say, darlin’.” She gave him “the look” and rolled her eyes at him when the Turners turned to admire the view. He just laughed at her, took her arm in his, and walked off to mingle with some of the other passengers. “What was that about,
babe?
Now they are going to expect to see us down there. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking we’d take a stroll down to the dungeon and check it out. We don’t have to participate. Besides, I see you’re wearing your red bracelet, so you’re safe. We can just watch. You might want to broaden your horizons, Ivorie. See what it’s all about.”

“I think just getting on board this boat has broadened my horizons quite a bit. I’ll think about it and let you know.”

* * * *

Drew was chuckling to himself. This promised to be good. And to think a few days ago he had been bored out of his mind. The look on Ivorie’s face was priceless. He knew Greg and Natasha from the club in New Orleans. Ivorie was in for a surprise. Once Greg and Natasha stripped down to basics, they were an imposing sight. The ex-SEAL had one of the most impressive bodies he had ever seen and a dragon tattoo that ran from his wrist, up his arm, and curved over his chest. It was a work of art if one was into skin art. He was quite a sight. Natasha was Russian, had a matching tattoo on her butt, a female body builder’s physique, and a taste for the whip. Before she had become Greg’s sub, she had been a Domme. He would have liked to have been a fly on the wall for their first scene. Greg and Natasha had one of the more extreme relationships of the couples he knew in the lifestyle. Their play was certainly more than he was ready for. He enjoyed some light bondage, a little spanking, Dominance and submission, role-playing, and an assortment of the less extreme activities. Extreme bondage, caning, and whipping didn’t appeal to him.

Drew and Ivorie had dinner with the Turners. After coffee and dessert, Chris said, “Well, are you guys going down to the dungeon to see the demonstration?”

Drew looked at Ivorie and by the tilt of his eyebrow let her know it was her decision. He could see she thought about it for a moment before she said, “Okay. Let’s see what it’s all about.” Drew took her hand and helped her out of her seat. She would have pulled away, but he tightened his hold, put her hand over his arm, and led her toward the central stairway that connected all the decks.

Ivorie and Drew, together with the Turners, joined the growing crowd of onlookers in the dungeon. Ivorie had been surprised by the large, opulent room that contained an assortment of very strange-looking equipment. They took their places along the wall and waited for the demonstration to begin.

Drew explained. “The Dom is Gregory Dempsey, and the sub is Natasha Romanova.” The Dom was dressed only in tight, black leather pants. He led the sub, who was a tall, shapely blonde, into the dungeon. She was wearing a thin collar studded with white-gold grommets from which hung two white-gold dog tags, with an attached leash around her neck. He had dark, wavy hair to his shoulders. His body was adorned with a stunning red, black, and green dragon tattoo running up his right arm from just below his wrist. It curled around his biceps and over his shoulder to breathe fire on his right pectoral muscle. His chest was covered with a light sprinkling of dark hair that tapered down his abdomen over his six-pack and into the waistband of his pants. They fit his long, muscular legs like a second skin. Ivorie gasped when she saw him and tightened her grip on Drew’s arm. Natasha was a beautiful woman with long, wavy, pale-golden-blonde hair which fell almost to the top of her muscular butt.

“Drew, I’m a little scared here,” she whispered in his ear and held his hand in a death grip. He nestled her up against his side, put his arm around her shoulders, and squeezed.

“It’s okay, Ivorie. These people are a long-established couple who trust each other implicitly. This is something they both need and want. Just watch.”

The sub knelt in front of the Dom and offered him a stunning multitailed whip with red leather roses on the ends. She bowed her head and said, “Please, Master, administer my discipline.” Ivorie was stunned. Was the woman asking to be whipped?

“That’s a flogger,” Drew explained. It had seven plush, tightly braided tails. Each was tipped with a beautiful red leather rose accented by a green leaf. The handle had a braided loop at the end and was covered in black leather. “I understand it was a gift from Greg to Natasha when he collared her. That’s similar to getting engaged.”

“That’s some engagement present.” Ivorie was amazed. It was true the whip was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, but really…“I think I’d rather go for the traditional…”

“I believe some diamonds were involved as well.” He grinned down at her, and she could see by the expression on his face that he was thinking that women were so predictable.

Greg helped Natasha to her feet. “Strip, slave, and put on the cuffs.” Natasha removed her short dress and hung it neatly in the armoire. When she had buckled the cuffs around her wrists and ankles, he attached her to the chains hanging from the ceiling. He bound her ankle cuffs to a metal bar that spread her legs wide and snapped it to bolts in the glossy teak floor. Ivorie shivered. She could see that Natasha was immobilized and totally at the Dom’s mercy.

Greg strode around his sub, inspecting her body as he let the tension build. Natasha’s eyes were downcast as she waited for her Master. Finally, Greg picked up the rose flogger. He ran the supple tails through his strong, long-fingered hands. Natasha watched him from under her long, thick, golden eyelashes. The longing in her expressive eyes was palpable as the leather tails slipped through his fingers. She trembled before him as he slowly and gently ran the flogger over her body, skimming the bloodred leather roses lightly over the creamy skin of her breasts and belly and down her thighs. He walked behind her and repeated the process over her back and butt. She was so aroused that Ivorie could see her pussy clench and moisture flood from her sex. “Oh, please, Master,” she cried.

“Silence, sub,” he said as he snapped the flogger. Even the experienced members of the audience jumped as the loud crack of the whip split the sexual tension in the air. Greg continued to stand just behind her as her back and buttocks trembled in anticipation and excitement. His cock strained against the leather of his pants. It was obvious that she was totally submissive to him. He cracked the flogger, and she jumped. She flinched as he ran the tails over her body again. Finally, when the tension in the room was unbearable, he cracked the flogger over her upper back and butt. He continued the lightly stinging strokes until they elicited a sharp cry from her arched throat. He placed the sharp bite of a well-aimed stroke across her buttocks. Finally, the rose tails of the flogger lightly struck between her spread thighs and drove her into a stunning climax. Her orgasm shot through her body like a bolt of lightning. As the thunderous convulsions subsided, she hung from the chains, drained and limp. Greg uncuffed her wrists and ankles and picked her up. He crushed his lips to hers in a brutal kiss and held her tightly to his chest for a moment. Then he carried her from the room while the audience stood in the dungeon in awe.

Ivorie was trembling, and she still held Drew’s hand in a death grip. Even the ebullient Turners were silent in the aftermath of the demonstration. Slowly, the crowd broke up and returned to the main deck to get fresh drinks, to recover from what they had just witnessed, and to control the incredibly intense sexual feelings they were experiencing. Most were strangely silent. Some of the women had actually come while they watched, and most of the men sported hard-ons under their well-tailored slacks. It had been a powerful exhibition.

“I really don’t feel like going back to the lounge. Do you want to come back to my suite for a drink? We can relax up there and discuss this if you like.” Drew was watching her carefully. Maybe he thought she was going to faint or something. Well, she was tougher than that. At least she hoped so.

Drew was glad the tail of his white silk shirt was untucked because it somewhat covered the raging erection he was having trouble subduing. Not only the exhibition but Ivorie’s soft body curled against him was having the expected effect.

Once they were back in the sitting room of the suite, Drew turned to Ivorie. “Have a seat. How about a glass of white wine? I have some brandy if you want something stronger.”

“Wine would be great. Thanks. That was some exhibition. It wasn’t exactly what I was expecting…if I knew what I was expecting. Well, anyway…that wasn’t it.”

Drew laughed. “You sound completely confused. BDSM is different for every couple that practices it. Fantasies are different. Likes and dislikes are different, and the degree of severity and commitment are different.”

“That sure was different. I won’t argue with that. Did she really want to be whipped?”

Drew filled a cut-crystal wine glass and handed it to her then poured an inch of amber liquid into a brandy snifter for himself. He sat down on the forest-green brocade loveseat next to her. “Yes, she did. But, Ivorie, remember what you saw. Do you think he really hurt her? It was more the idea of it than the actual pain. It was more about the act of submission. Some people want the actual pain, and I think Natasha may be one of them, but Greg isn’t willing to go beyond his own comfort level to deliver it. That’s his hard limit. What we saw tonight was really very mild.”

* * * *

Ivorie went back in her memory and tried to get beyond the shock of the scene. She had to admit Drew was right. None of the whip strokes were really hard. They may have stung a bit, and while her skin was pink, none of the strokes had broken the skin or even left marks. It was more about the loud cracking sounds and the spectacle. “Huh. I think you’re right. That was a lot of drama and not much actual punishment. Did that satisfy Natasha’s needs then?”

“Maybe not completely, but believe me, she’s probably about to be thoroughly satisfied any minute now, if the way Greg looked and the way I’m feeling right now is anything to judge by.”

Ivorie looked at him speculatively. She hadn’t thought about how the performance they had just witnessed together had affected Drew. She knew her own panties were definitely in a twist, not to mention embarrassingly damp. She apparently had been just as affected as Drew, whose pupils seemed to be a little dilated. This BDSM stuff was powerfully erotic. No wonder people liked it.

* * * *

Drew gazed into her eyes. They looked a bit heavy. She couldn’t be sleepy. If she said she was tired and wanted to call it a night, he thought he might cry like a baby. He took the wine glass from her hand, put it on the table next to his brandy snifter, and gently pulled her into his arms. And then, no longer gentle, he crushed his mouth down on her ripe, red lips in a hard kiss. He coaxed her lips open to accept his tongue as their mouths melded. He ran his hands down her back and, cupping her round bottom, pulled her tight against his hard shaft. She whimpered and burrowed into his chest as he savaged her delicate lips. His tongue plunged into her mouth, and she opened to him. He groaned in relief. She wanted this as much as he did. Drew continued to feast on her mouth as he skimmed his hand over the swell of her breasts. He slipped his fingers into the lacy bra cupping her high, round breasts and skimmed them over the pebbled raspberry tips. She shivered.

“I want to make love to you, Ivorie. If you don’t want to you’d better leave right now. If you stay much longer I don’t know if I will be able to stop.”

* * * *

Ivorie looked into his smoldering hazel eyes and unbuttoned his shirt. The deep timbre of his voice sent a rush of excitement skittering up her spine. She didn’t fully understand it, but she knew she wanted this with every fiber of her being. After all, two days ago she couldn’t stand the sight of him.
Well, that was then, and this is now!
She ran her hands down his chest. His skin was like silk over steel, smooth and hairless. Her fingers paused to learn each ridge and valley of his washboard abs.