Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 59044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Drinks were already waiting for us on the deck lounge where her father and Stephen had settled.
The next few hours as we waited for the staff to settle things, then for the captain to finally get the yacht moving, were a lesson in self-control.
Scarlet was sitting right there in her white slacks and pearlescent blouse, looking all clean and innocent. And I wanted nothing more but to muss her up a bit.
Marcus and Stephen monopolized the conversation with business matters that went mostly over my head. Scarlet seemed to be keeping up, making appropriate comments, or asking questions her father seemed pleased by, but I could tell by the way she kept shifting her position and toying with her hair that she was anxious to get away from the conversation as well.
“Well,” Marcus finally announced as he stood, “lunch should be served soon, so it is probably a good time for everyone to get settled. I’ll see you promptly an hour and a half from now,” he said, and I caught a twinge of condescension there that I had to bite my tongue before I commented on.
It hadn’t gone over Scarlet’s head either. Her spine went straighter and her jaw seemed tight.
But she kept her mouth shut. Even forced an icy smile.
Then she turned and left me to follow.
“It’s good to see you again,” Marcus said to me before I could follow his daughter. “I have to say I’m pleased to note I have not heard of my daughter being involved in any gossip since you started working for her.”
“Happy to be of service,” I said.
I managed to hold back the smile until I turned and strode away from him.
“You alright?” I asked as I followed Scarlet while she practically speed-walked through the yacht, not letting me really soak much of it in.
She made some sort of noncommittal noise, not even looking back at me until she pulled open a door that led to one of the staterooms.
“This is you,” she said, waving toward the dark paneled, shiny walls. It was a decent sized space, considering it was on a boat, with windows, a bathroom, and a queen-sized bed.
My luggage was already set up near the foot of the bed.
“And this is me,” she said, striding away to wrench open another door.
Her room was easily twice the size of mine. If not more.
Her room had the shiny wood paneling as well, but in a whitewash color instead of the dark kind in my room.
Her bed was a four-poster king with all-white bedding, set upon a semicircle platform.
There was a long cream sofa under the windows, and what seemed like a sprawling bathroom off the side.
Between the oversized furniture, though, was a lot of walking space.
“Hey,” I said, following her into the bathroom where she grabbed the sink counter, head bowed, body lightly shaking. “What’s going on?” I asked as she took slow, deliberate breaths.
“Can you… punish me?” she asked, gaze lifting to find mine in the mirror.
“Punish you? You’ve behaved,” I said, confused.
“I just think… I need…”
“You need the release,” I filled in.
She was still trying to deal with her emotions. And it was possible that by teaching her how to access them, she was struggling with them now that they were coming up instead of getting pushed down where they were easy to ignore.
“Yes.”
I held her gaze, then nodded.
“Take your clothes off,” I demanded. “Then get into position.”
With that, I left her to go across the hall to grab my bag of goodies, bringing it over to her stateroom to find her already naked and kneeling for me just a few feet inside the door.
I reached back to lock it, paranoid about the many staff members around.
“Is there a TV, pet?” I asked. “So no one hears,” I added.
Instead of a TV, she called to some hidden virtual assistant, turning on music to drown us out.
I opened the bag, sifting through the options. She’d already had the belt and a bare hand. So I was debating between the crop, spanker, and flogger.
In the end, I went with the crop, deciding it would be a ‘sharper’ type of pain, which was likely what she needed to get those emotions up.
The flogger would tease more.
The crop was getting right down to business.
“On all fours, pet,” I demanded as I turned toward her, watching as she bent forward. “Ass up,” I told her, smiling as she lowered onto her forearms. “Lower.”
When she was face against the carpet, I moved to the side of her body, taking a deep breath, then swinging out.
Gently at first.
“Count.”
“One,” she said, voice tight.
She needed more.
The next hit was harder.
“Two.”
Three. Four. Five.
She was still shutting down, still fighting it.
And her ass was getting red enough that I was worried about her eventually wearing a bathing suit.
“Up,” I demanded, but grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her up before she could do so voluntarily. “On the bed. Arms and legs wide.”