Show Me the Ropes Read online

  From the file labeled, 'Subject M5, Richard Wolfe'

  Chapter Two

  Fallon sat on the edge of her bed in her tiny crew-cabin, naked except for the bath towel wrapped around her torso. All her turquoise crew uniforms lay neatly folded and stacked on the chair, awaiting someone from wardrobe to pick them up. She hadn’t expected Richard to let her go easily, but his demand had taken her by surprise.

  The whole idea was insane, yet he, admittedly, risked a great deal by making such a proposition. Well, now that she thought about it, it was blackmail, and sexual harassment. No way to sugarcoat it. It was what it was. So why had she gone along with it?

  She’d tried to protest, tried to form a rational, logical, coherent argument at the time, but images of submitting to Richard, in all things, had flashed through her mind, obliterating everything else.

  Yes, Richard. Where had that come from? She’d always been in complete control of her life. She made her own decisions. How else could she have completed her Master’s and Ph.D. before her twenty-sixth birthday? How else could she have written a book she was sure would put her on the world map as the foremost expert on oral sex?

  So what had come over her when he’d commanded her to submit to him? As an expert on human sexuality, she knew the signs of arousal better than most. Her body had reacted instantly to his tone of voice, his dominance, his command. Every cell, in every erogenous zone, had prickled with awareness. His voice felt like a wicked caress. Hot liquid trickled between her legs even now, as she waited, for what she didn’t know.

  The bastard had been right. She wanted it. Maybe not as much as he did. She’d never stoop to blackmail, but Richard had. He said he wanted to show her the kind of man he really was. He was sure starting on the right foot.

  She considered packing and leaving before he could stop her, but his voice echoed in her brain. When he used that tone, something in her reacted. For the next week she’d agreed to do anything he commanded, and she knew as certainly as she knew her own name, that if he used that tone of voice, she’d obey. The possibilities sent a shiver down her spine.

  Hopeless. I’m pathetically hopeless.

  Her new wardrobe arrived. Richard’s note accompanying the garments sent her heart racing.

  Do not dress until I come to get you. I have something for you, but you cannot have it unless you are naked when I arrive. R.W.

  She put away the scant wardrobe, standard fare for female passengers. In order to facilitate free sexual expression, the Lothario provided all the clothing the passengers needed for the week long cruise. Admittedly, it wasn’t much. A few short sarongs, one silk one, one terry cloth one, a few sets of matching bras and panties, and a bikini. Everything was white with the Lothario logo, male and female symbols intertwined, embroidered in turquoise. Men were issued shorter wraps, a Speedo-style swimsuit, and no underwear. Passengers could choose either to wear the wardrobe, or not. The final night of the cruise, the passengers were encouraged to select a costume from wardrobe and do a bit of role-playing. Every cruise seemed to have several Lady Godivas onboard.

  Fallon smirked. With a little luck, Richard wouldn’t parade her around the ship naked, but she’d agreed to submit, in all things. Would she comply if he demanded it? She was still contemplating the answer when he arrived. She’d seen him naked, once. That bimbo he brought to her office had sucked his cock while she watched and imagined it was her doing those things to him, but he’d never seen her without her clothes.

  She looked around for the towel she’d worn earlier, spied it on the floor, and considered wrapping it around her before she opened the door. Richard’s commanding voice penetrated the door. “Open up, Fallon. Don’t even think of hiding yourself from me.” Her knees weakened and her nipples betrayed her, firming and reaching for the dominating man in the hallway. She opened the door.

  Richard stepped in and shut the door quickly, throwing the deadbolt as he did so. She backed a few steps into the room, unsure what he expected from her. Six feet of bronzed masculinity filled the small space and overwhelmed her senses. He smelled like the wind and the sun, and exuded enough heat to raise the ambient temperature several degrees. He wore nothing more than a white Lothario passenger wrap, slung low across his lean hips. Any lower and there would be no need to wear it at all. His sun bronzed back and shoulders filled the tiny space. He turned to her. Her breath caught in her lungs. The ship could have been named after him. He was every woman’s image of a Lothario, a seducer of women. There wasn’t a woman on the planet that wouldn’t be drawn to this man. Tall and lean, his brown hair bleached sandy by the constant Caribbean sun, and his eyes like gleaming emeralds, he even stole control of her involuntary muscles.

  Those jeweled eyes made a quick sweep of her nakedness before they returned to her feet and slowly inched up, stopping at the juncture of her thighs, on the neatly trimmed mound there. His gaze lingered, but at last his eyes moved further up, pausing again at her breasts, now aching for his touch, her nipples painful rubies.

  She should have felt like a bug under a microscope, or worse, a cheap whore, but underneath the obvious arousal, there was nothing but admiration, and perhaps reverence in the way he looked at her. He might be a despicable player, but it was hard to remember that when he looked at her that way. No wonder women threw themselves at him.

  At last, he looked into her eyes. “Turn around.”

  She turned, willing her trembling legs to hold her. No one had ever looked at her so. She felt exposed, vulnerable, yet aroused beyond anything she’d ever felt. With her back to him, she waited for his command, wondering if he intended to take her now, or if he ever would. She’d wanted him for so long, she didn’t know if she could wait any longer. It wasn’t up to her. She’d ceded control to Richard in his office earlier. What they did or did not do was on his time schedule now, not hers.

  “You’re more beautiful than I imagined.” His breath whispered across her shoulder. She jumped. When had he come so close? Metal jangled behind her and she quaked. “Easy. Relax, sweetheart. You followed my orders, so I have a surprise for you.”

  Richard raised his hands over her head. An intricately wrought gold chain dangled from his fingers. She’d seen them in the gift shop, custom-made slave chains. She recognized it as the one from the display mannequin. Exquisitely handcrafted to look like solid gold rope, it must have cost a fortune. Richard had more money than God, so she shouldn’t have been surprised. The Lothario was a very small portion of his portfolio. “Do you want the gift, Fallon?” The chain dangled in front of her face. “Everything we do for the next week is up to you. This chain is simply a reminder for both of us, and anyone else who might want to claim you, that you are mine. No matter what we do, the choice is always yours whether we continue, or not. Nod your head if you understand.”

  She nodded. Cold metal draped around her neck. Richard’s fingers scalded her skin where he fastened the intricate collar. “Do you have a safe word you would like to use? Something that will tell me to stop?”

  She nodded again.

  “Tell me. What is it?”

  “Stop,” she whispered. She’d gone from Ph.D. to dunce, in a matter of minutes.

  He chuckled.

  She closed her eyes. His full lips would be drawn up on one side, a dimple creasing the opposite cheek.

  “Not very creative, but it will do.” His hands slipped under her arms and clamped like heated vices over her breasts. His front pressed against her back. The hard shaft of his arousal branded her buttocks. “Try it Fallon. Tell me to stop.”

  “Stop.” Her voice broke on the one simple syllable, but his hands instantly dropped away, leaving her breasts aching and cold, but he remained pressed against her.

  “See. That’s how it works. Now, let’s get the rest of this chain on you. Turn back around.”

  He moved a step back then, allowing her room to turn. Richard sorted the delicate chains and rings and smoothed them over her skin. Two woven gold ropes hung fro
m a ring on the front of the collar and criss-crossed her chest in an intricate pattern before widening to form two rings of the same woven rope pattern, one to encircle each breast. Roped chains fell from under her breasts to repeat the elaborate diamond pattern across her stomach, down to her waist. Richard fastened the rope around her waist to a ring at her bellybutton with a small, jewel-encrusted lock.

  There was much more to it. Every few months a new piece had been added to the display. Fallon had even tried on a few of the pieces. She’d been looking at the display one day when the jeweler came out to add the new wrist shackles. He’d noticed her interest in the piece and asked if she wanted to try them on before he added them to the display. They’d fit perfectly, and she’d admired the way they felt, as well as the exquisite workmanship. When the matching ankle shackles were ready, he’d called her and asked her if she wanted to try them too. She’d turned an appointment over to Kelsey and hurried to the gift shop.

  Richard knelt before her. “Spread your legs.”

  She shifted and his hands on her thighs spread her further. “So beautiful.” One finger swiped through her juices. She bit her lower lip to keep from crying out.

  “Look at me.”

  She turned her eyes to the man kneeling before her and watched as he sucked his wet finger into his mouth. Her knees buckled. Richard caught her before she fell. He steadied her, and then helped her to the one chair in the room. “There are more pieces. Every day I’ll reward you with another piece if you have earned it the day before. Now, put on the silk sarong. I want to take you to dinner.”

  She was supposed to eat dinner with this chain on? Not that anyone could see anymore than the collar and the two chains hanging down from it, but anyone with half a brain would know there was more.

  “You are mine and I want everyone on this ship to know it before the night is through. I will touch you anytime I wish, in any fashion I wish, and you will allow it.”

  She nodded.

  “I need to hear you say it, Fallon.”

  She slipped the sarong on and faced him. “What do you wish me to say?”

  “You always have the option of ‘stop’, but otherwise you will answer, ‘Yes, Richard.’”

  “Yes, Richard.”

  “Good. Let’s go, then.”

  * * * * *

  He was going to die. His heart wasn’t up to this kind of stress, and his tortured cock felt like it was caught in a vise. What demon lived inside him, prodding him to do these insane things? Things like sexual harassment and blackmail. Things like ordering Fallon to stand naked before him. Things like touching her.

  When he’d commissioned the gold rope slave ensemble two years ago, it had been a fantasy—one that stemmed from his frustration with the woman who now wore a small part of the priceless piece. Since he had no real use for the thing, he’d allowed the master jeweler to display it on a mannequin, as a sort of testament to his skill, and to generate custom orders. Pieces were added as they were completed. It had taken the better part of two years, and a shipload of money, but at last, it was complete. He’d taken possession of it, even the pieces that had never been on display, just this afternoon. It was one of a kind, crafted by a master, designed for a unique woman, commissioned by a desperate man.

  It all seemed surreal— walking down the hall a half step behind Fallon – her wearing the anchor piece around her neck. It was a scene straight out of his fantasy. Not that he had any experience with domination or submission. He’d never done anything like this in his life, never wanted to, until Fallon had walked into his life, captured him in her web, and tied him up with ropes of spun silk. That’s where he’d come up with the idea for the gold ropes. If she held him with the silk of her web, he’d chain her with ropes of gold. Solid. Unbreakable. Binding.

  Pure fantasy. Light glinted off the collar and drew his eye to her slender neck encased within the one-inch wide band of gold ropes, woven together into a solid mass, and secured with a tiny padlock. Small rings dangled from each side and the back, rings that eventually, if Fallon behaved herself, would hold more ropes, more symbols of his possession.

  God, he hoped she behaved herself. Even if she didn’t, if she called a stop to his fantasy, he’d ask her to wear the entire ensemble once, just so he could see it on her before he gave it to her. It was hers, after all, every last rope, link, clamp, and jewel.

  Zeus’ Temple, the main restaurant, was crowded when they arrived. Decorated to resemble an opulent palace fit for the Greek Gods, it was a favorite with the passengers. It was the perfect place to bring Fallon. Between the number of passengers, and the enormous staff it took to run the restaurant smoothly, word would spread that Fallon was his. He’d called earlier to request a private table near the windows. It was impossible to see out after dark, but the darkened glass acted as a mirror, making it easier for others to see her. Knowing she was naked beneath the silk sarong, except for the ropes he’d placed on her, made it almost impossible for him to eat. He picked at his food.

  What he really wanted, needed, was to feast on her. He hadn’t intended to taste her when he put the ropes on, but she’d been so aroused. Her scent lured him more surely than any siren’s song, and he’d fallen to his knees before her. He’d allowed himself one small taste, and appetizer of sorts. Sweet honey, weeping dew, her female essence permeated his senses even now. Nothing could taste any sweeter, or be more satisfying. If he asked her, no, told her to spread her legs here and now, would she?

  “Mr. Wolfe?”

  Their waiter, dressed in a Lothario tux, skintight black pants, no shirt and white collar and cuffs, interrupted his thoughts. “Yes?”

  “Can I get you anything else tonight, sir? Dessert?”

  Fallon had a weakness for chocolate. “Ask the chef to send up his best chocolate, whatever it is tonight.”

  “Yes sir.” He hurried off to fill the order.

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I know how much you like your chocolate.”

  “Thank you.” Her eyes dropped to her untouched plate. “What are we going to do tonight?”

  I think I’ll torture myself. “I’ve seen the comedian more times than I care too, so I thought we might do something else.”

  “Like what?”

  “How about a quiet walk on deck?”

  “I’d like that.”

  Most of the passengers, especially the first timers, were at the comedy show. Newcomers always wanted to go to the show on the first night, that’s why the jokes revolved around cruising, and in the case of the Lothario, safe sex. As Cruise Director, Richard attended every first night show, and he’d heard the same stale condom jokes until he’d rather stuff condoms in his ears than hear them again. Thankfully, his assistant had that duty tonight. Instead, he and Fallon had the Odyssey deck almost to themselves. Other couples were scattered about, making out, fucking against the rail (a favorite, judging by the numbers who did it), and a few like them, strolling in the moonlight. Her fingers went to the small key that dangled from the collar, framed against her chest by her collarbone and a diamond of gold rope.

  “Does the key unlock me?”

  “No.”

  “So how am I supposed to get this off?”

  “You aren’t.” She walked along, still toying with the key and driving him mad. He couldn’t tell her what the key unlocked, not yet anyway. Perhaps he never would.

  “What does it unlock?”

  “Nothing.” Everything.

  They rounded the aft corner and he paused to close the gate, indicating this deck area was off limits. He left Fallon aft while he made sure the deck was clear of other passengers and closed the gate on the port side. Unless some idiot passenger couldn’t read, or thought they were exempt from the rules, then they had the aft deck to themselves.

  “Take off the sarong.”

  “Yes, Richard.” No hesitation in her voice. She did as he commanded with efficiency. White silk fluttered to the deck and pooled at her feet
. Blood roared in his ears, drowning out even the giant engines below them, and the ocean water churning under the force of the propellers. Her scent carried on the salt-tinged night air. An all too familiar pain made his stomach muscles clench. He closed his eyes a moment and fought for control. The pain subsided, and he dared to look at her again.

  She stood with her shoulders back, her legs braced against the pitch and roll of the ship. She was every inch a goddess in both demeanor and appearance. Light from the full moon made her porcelain skin appeared translucent. The collar and ropes he’d placed on her stood out in stark relief. If he was doomed to hell for the course he now steered, he’d gladly pay the price. An eternity in perdition was a fair trade for the chance to have her with him for the rest of his life.

  For the longest, he simply drank in the sight of her. His. She was his, at least for the next seven days. He knew he had to start out slow. His cock strained toward her, wanting immediate gratification after dreaming of her for so long, but not tonight. He allowed the bite of pain again before willing it away. Tonight was about her, about building her desire, about showing her how much she meant to him.

  “I want to touch you.” The words sounded more like a plea for her mercy than a statement of his desire.

  “Yes, Richard.” Her immediate compliance thrilled him. He took a step forward and circled her wrist with his fingers. He led her to the center of the deck and pressed her against the cold metal of the bulkhead. She allowed him to guide her without protest. He flattened her palms against the ship, her arms spread a few inches from her hips.

  “Spread your legs.” They parted a few inches. “More.” She spread wider. “That’s better. I’m going to touch you now. You are not to move unless I command it. Is that clear?”