Sublime Trust Read online

  Sublime Trust Trilogy

  Jaye Peaches

  Published by J Peaches

  Copyright 2015: Jaye Peaches

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Editing: Wizards in Publishing

  Cover Art by E. Vincent

  http://artofevincent.wordpress.com/

  Gemma and Jason Lucas lead a life less ordinary, where kink and wealth combine to bring exotic opportunities.

  Gemma - a billionaire's wife and a Dominant's submissive. One public persona, the other very private. Her personal journey takes her to many places physically, mentally, and kinky. She must continually put her faith in her husband and cast aside her turbulent past.

  Her future is an uncharted map of erotic pleasure.

  Settled into married life, Jason has almost all that he desires. Constantly striving to seek out new erotic adventures, his passion is to have his wife become his submissive all day, every day.

  Whatever Jason’s rules and judgements might bring to their relationship, he will always cherish her.

  Volume One – Judged by Him

  Volume Two – Ruled by Him

  Volume Three – Cherished by Him

  Judged By Him

  Volume One of Sublime Trust

  Three weeks cruising the Mediterranean Sea in a luxury yacht with her husband takes submissive Gemma into an opulent world she never could have envisioned before she met Jason Lucas.

  A voyage to locations across Southern Europe opens up new arenas of kinky sex for Gemma as her Dominant lover continues to educate her sexual being.

  Unknown to the couple, several members of the crew are not who they appear to be. Both Gemma and Jason Lucas’s lives will be turned upside down by their disclosures and Gemma’s submission to her Dominant will be tested.

  Part One

  Chapter 1. Fingers

  Day One

  Struggling to contain her nervous energy, Gemma Lucas rested her head on the leather headrest. Three weeks on a yacht cruising the Mediterranean Sea. Starting in Marbella, south of Malaga, and then ending up where? Her husband, Jason, hadn’t revealed their itinerary beyond the first few days. There would be surprises, guaranteed.

  The limousine sped along the highway, covering the distance between airport and marina quickly. Weaving about the seemingly reckless drivers, the luxury vehicle negotiated the busy road with ease until it abruptly ground to a halt. The stationary traffic, in combination with the blazing sunshine, made a heat haze across the road surface. Waves formed in the air, shimmering and bright. Thankfully, the air conditioning provided a constant stream of frigid air.

  She recalled packing her sunglasses in the holdall. The weather back home had been overcast and bitterly cold, and she hadn’t thought to put her shades in her handbag.

  She squeezed Jason’s hand, barely aware of her tensing muscles and the tightening tweak of her fingers.

  “All right, babe?” he asked.

  Why she was so edgy would be lost on him. She should have been bouncing up and down on her seat but instead, she maintained a nervous pose.

  She gave him one of her most appreciative smiles. “Yes, of course. Just, you know, so bloody excited.”

  Jason kissed her knuckles in reply. She doubted she had convinced him—her attempts to lie to Jason were generally unsuccessful.

  “What happens when we board the boat?” she asked.

  “Yacht, baby. Don’t denigrate it by calling it a boat,” he censured with a grin. “We’ll be introduced to the crew. The courteous formalities. I’ll give you a tour, which will probably blow you away. We will unpack a little. Make sure there is nothing you need before we depart tomorrow morning. Anything missing can be provided while we are docked. This evening, we’ll dine somewhere rustic, up in the hills above Marbella.” He glanced over his shoulder. The escort car followed, laden with their personal possessions.

  “It all sounds great. Three weeks. I can’t believe we’re doing this.” The timescale thrilled her. Although, for her husband, it was not so straightforward. He wouldn’t truly be on vacation for the duration. The wonders of modern on-board technology and communication systems enabled him to work some of the time.

  Gemma tried to envision the yacht. He had kept her in the dark about the vessel’s name and shown her no pictures or the layout, so she knew little. “Do we have our own cabin?”

  “My darling, we have the stateroom. The owner’s stateroom.”

  They both smiled at his emphasis: Jason not only owned the yacht, he owned her for the duration of the cruise.

  “A suite of rooms with private access. Imagine our deck as a private house within the yacht. The guest cabins are on the main one and aft of the lower deck, where the crew lives.”

  “Crew.” Gemma said the word with reticence and a degree of trepidation. “The two you say you have employed for the three weeks...?”

  “Yes. Enrique and Maria. Mexicans, ethnically, not Spanish. They come from Los Angeles, so they speak English with an American accent. They will be our personal domestic staff, though, technically, they are listed as stewards. Enrique will be my manservant and Maria, your maid. I explained this to you on the plane.” His voice sharpened. “What is the issue?”

  Gemma pursed her lips. “Servants to us. In private when we are, you know...”

  Again, she was inarticulate and nervous. Images flashed through her mind, specifically of another submissive being used on their yacht. “It’s just, on the plane, you made Maria sound like your…your handmaiden, that’s all.” Gemma pouted, unable to dismiss the unwanted thoughts about Maria.

  Jason flicked a switch and the privacy screen rose behind the driver. He glared at her with those blue eyes she had come to know so well. She shrank into her seat. He glazed disappointment over his facial features, matched by annoyance, which manifested itself in the folding of his arms across his chest.

  “Handmaiden? I know full well the context of that reference. I explained to you, Enrique and Maria are there to serve us. They are our kind and will treat us with respect, as you will treat them in return. You are due to have your period in the middle of the holiday, but I have no plans to use Maria as a substitute between your legs if you fail to conceive. The idea you have in your uncontrolled, imaginative mind that I would insult your fertility is repulsive.

  “You will be treated with honour by them, subservient honour. Pampered and venerated by Maria, who I gather is keen to please you and take care of you. Enrique is her Dominant and will be my personal assistant. He will not lay a finger on you without my express permission, and only then, when I am present. You were excited when I told you he is a bondage and suspension expert, someone who will assist me in binding you. You obviously think I intend to be unfaithful in thought, if not in deed. Is this true? Answer me!”

  “No! Truly, I said the word in haste. I’m sorry. I’m struggling with the idea of servants,” gasped Gemma. Her scalp tingled as she began to appreciate her foolish words. He would want her to show contrition and the inevitable emotions of behaving apologetically were creeping into her mind. She wanted him to seek out her obedience. “I beg your forgiveness, Sir. I spoke unwisely.”

  “Who do you belong to, Gemma?”

  “You, Master. Only you, Sir,” she said quietly.

  “For three weeks, Gemma, you consented, and already you are mocking our arrangement. You disappoint me. What did you agree to be, Gemma? Tell me!”

  “To be your obedient, submissive slave. To be used as you choose, when you wish, and to please only you. Sir.” She recol
lected the conversation they had flying over the continent in the private jet, the mixed emotions of excitement and dread conjured up by his expectations.

  “The rules, Gemma?”

  She squeezed her knees together and swallowed hard. “I may come when I choose but must not touch myself without your permission. I must address you appropriately when naked and at your feet. I will keep myself prepared for you. I will not be disrespectful to you. I will not leave the yacht unescorted or put my personal safety at risk. I must keep my deportment at all times and not engage in flirtatious behaviour with others, Sir.”

  The one about orgasms was liberating. At least Jason had granted her the freedom of choice in her pleasure and hadn’t denied her the joy of coming spontaneously. He had asked very little of her that wasn’t part of their general life as Dominant husband and submissive wife. Preserving her safety was always a rule, and he did not allow her to flirt with others.

  She had to be available to him at all times, no break in ownership of her body. Their usual practice of pre-arranged scenes and times would be put aside. Her body was to be accessible whenever he desired it, and she would have to submit and be willing whenever he requested. The idea had stoked a fire deep inside her and, though they rarely had the opportunity in their daily life to practice such a full-time dynamic, their holiday gave them the time to explore how hedonistic they could be with each other.

  They had discussed the finer details and concluded safe-words would have slightly different outcomes to their usual meanings. “Yellow” remained her mercy word: slow up or change approach. “Red”, however, meant a break in their arrangement, rather than the end of a scene. In the 24/7 environment, though, Gemma couldn’t expect to stop the arrangement without explanation. They’d agreed to a limited period to reflect, renegotiate, or simply be free of each other’s company. Even on an enormous yacht, she couldn’t exactly escape or hide from him.

  He had told her not to worry if she had to “red”. He would respect her need for a break if he became too demanding of her. However, if the breaks became too frequent, Jason would consider ending the arrangement and reverting to a non-Dominant/submissive relationship for remainder of the holiday. As with their New York holiday, when she had consented to a similar arrangement for one week, he’d told her he didn’t anticipate her reneging on the deal so easily. “Unless there is a good medical reason,” he had said, matter-of-factly.

  The joy of an announcement of pregnancy would be one good reason. She had mentioned her period being due, but neither of them wanted to curse the possibility of conception by assuming she would become pregnant. Not quite six months had passed since she had stopped taking the pill. Her doctor had told her at least six months to a year without conception must pass before any investigation would be warranted.

  Jason’s hand shot across the wide leather seat and captured her wrist, drawing it over to his side and pressing it onto his lap. The woven cotton felt warm under her palm and his muscular thigh rock hard.

  “Take a deep breath and stop trembling.” He waited for her to regain her composure.

  Without warning, he flicked his middle finger at the base of her middle fingernail. A hard tap, which made a slight noise as it landed. She shut her eyes tightly.

  A rebuke. The kind to grab her attention, nothing else, and though delivered quickly, it hurt like crazy. Yet again, her Dominant had demonstrated his endless repertoire of torments. On previous occasions, he had often flicked a vulnerable part of her body, either her engorged clitoris, her lips, an earlobe, or clamped nipple. On this occasion, rather than a sensual tease, he proffered a reminder for her to behave as his submissive at all times.

  Why did he have to read so much into one word? Gemma scowled to herself, not daring to show the emotion on her face. As a submissive, she was best placed to know that sometimes keeping one’s mouth shut had great advantages when dealing with Dominants. Nothing slipped passed their sensitive ears or diligent focus on details or nuances.

  Jason wasn’t only a Dominant, he was a sadist. Part of her growled hungrily at his sudden display of dominance. Restless to begin their cruise, she knew he would expect much from her, physically and emotionally. She would eagerly consent, maybe not obviously at first. She would fight him off a little, until he stripped her vestige of independence away, leaving her vulnerable to him. Gradually, she would crack apart, peel back the layers of resistance, and give him the submissive he desired.

  Love came with their marriage vows, but the other part of their relationship, the domination and submission, had to be consented to and agreed upon. On the plane, she had leapt into his arms when he asked her to be his consensual slave for the cruise. The test of her abilities she had been seeking for many months, since her sexual submission had broken out of the confines of their bedroom.

  Correction over, he released her hand. Gemma alternated between shaking and hugging her hand under her armpit while the sharp pain dispersed. She stared out the window and blinked back tears. Not a great start to their vacation.

  “I want this to be special, babe,” he’d said on the jet. “If you can orgasm freely, it’s one less area I have to consider punishing you over. I can forgo denying you for the duration of the cruise. Find my dominating diversions in other ways.” He hadn’t indicated the other ways he would seek his gratification.

  With a silent sob, she realised she hadn’t even made it to the yacht before he delivered his first judgement.

  Chapter 2. Sublime

  The limo made its way through the dense traffic of the busy port city. Car horns hooted, and the air was thick with exhaust fumes. The sights distracted Gemma from her throbbing finger. She couldn’t look at Jason, not until she had her emotions under control.

  Gemma was angry with herself and with him. She had said something idiotic but, in her opinion, he really did read too much into her words. How would the two so-called servants fit into the grand scheme of his plans? Having another Dominant and submissive on-board confused her. Jason had assured her there was to be nothing sexual about the woman’s relationship with Gemma, but the maid had permission to bathe, dress, and give her beauty treatments.

  Did Jason intend to test Gemma’s declaration she wasn’t a bisexual in any capacity? He had always been adamant about not sharing or loaning her out; however, he had made those claims in the context of men. Would he have Maria on board purely to taunt or tempt Gemma into giving in and letting her be used by a woman?

  Her lack of interest in women had no deep-seated reasons. At school, she’d had predominately female friends and likewise at university. Like all teenagers and young women, they’d talked excessively about sex and relationships. They’d bitched and teased each other.

  When she had turned thirteen, she’d had her first serious snog with a speckled boy and suffered his halitosis. He had stuck his tongue in her mouth when their lips had barely met. Gemma had told all her schoolmates she had a fantastic French kissing session with him and tried hard to make the frivolous girls envious of her. In the end, many of her so-called friends weren’t her real friends. They quickly got jealous of her good looks and sexually gregarious nature. By the time her school days ended, Gemma had amassed a core of three companions who weren’t judgemental about her behaviour or competitive about boys.

  In her daily school life, she had been constantly followed around by a pack of panting, lanky, sex-obsessed adolescents, whom she suspected of secretly placing bets on who would have her first. She’d held out for some considerable time before the inevitable happened.

  Guy would never be a hunk. He had been a bony, skinny young man, who relied on charm and a rather pathetic moustache. Why she fancied him had been lost in the backwaters of her memory. Probably because she craved sex. Her sex drive had been switched on the moment her periods started. Seeing pictures of copulating humans in her biology textbook enthralled and made her tingle inside, right in her belly. By the time Guy came along, she was fully developed, curvy, and well versed in t
he theoretical intricacies of sex.

  Their brief affair had lasted one night. Not only had he shown no interest in her gratification, he promptly fell asleep, leaving her rather taken aback and disgruntled. She had wondered whether she should have given more on her part.

  Instead, she had learnt to masturbate, at home, in bed. She had read reams of romantic fiction, leafed through women’s magazines about sexual dissatisfaction, and secretly perused Joy of Sex in the corner of the library, stuffed between the pages of a large atlas.

  At no point in her sexual education had she thought about girls. Her own sex organs she accepted as part of her and necessary, but she didn’t feel a burning desire to plonk a mirror between her legs and gawp in amazement. She liked to masturbate, yet couldn’t imagine doing it to another woman. The image of Guy’s penis lingered, and she had built bigger, better ones in her mind. Visions of titanic, godlike men standing over her with enormous erections poised and her legs quivering underneath.

  “Put it in me!” she would shriek in her head.

  Feeling sordid and disappointed by the experience, Gemma hadn’t boasted of her deflowering to any of her friends. Instead, they had styled each other’s hair and make-up, bought clothes at the flea market, and walked arm-in-arm down the streets, talking brashly about absolutely nothing of consequence.

  When Gemma started university, she had met new men of all ages, not just immature youths. Each new acquisition in the bed department had improved her technique and style. What had been lacking was romance and emotional connections. She’d failed dismally to have a real boyfriend, an admirer to show off to her parents. Her sexual encounters had rarely lasted beyond a handful of dates.