The Captain Finds a SubbyJs_Keeper©
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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.
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.
Claire moved her hands quickly to the clasp between her breasts, when she remembered about going slowly for him. She let her fingers dance lightly over her still-erect nipples, and it surprised her how sexy it made her feel. Her inhibitions began melting away further, causing her to feel bit bolder and increasingly turned on. She cupped her hands around both breasts and squeezed them firmly through the flimsy material as Ian watched her every move. Slowly she released the clasp and pulled the bra open inch by inch, fully revealing her breasts and firmly erect nipples. The bra fell to the deck with her top.
Despite the deep chill that ran over her naked torso, she did not ask for the jacket, but instead stood with her hands at her side, waiting for Ian's next instruction
"As much as I'm loving the sight of you, I suppose I must make good on our deal." Ian tossed her the jacket, which she quickly slipped on and zipped up. She stood still before Ian, not really sure what to do next. She wanted him to kiss her or hold her or make some romantic gesture that would show more than an interest in controlling and objectifying her. Instead he reached up and very slowly unzipped the jacket half way.
As Claire looked down to see her cleavage exposed by the half-open jacket, Ian leaned forward and planted a single long, slow kiss between her breasts. The warmth of his lips spread like fire across her body as she relished this first indication of affection.
Suddenly returning to a businesslike manner, Ian informed her that it was now time to drop the sails and anchor. He gave her a sequence of detailed orders on how to prepare the boat to be anchored, and she went about her duties quickly and quietly.
After the sails were lowered and stowed and the anchor dropped, Claire returned to Ian at the helm. She stood before him, and as he thanked her for her good work he slid both his hands inside her jacket. They were surprisingly warm as he squeezed her soft flesh. She felt herself melting further into his desires and pushed passing thoughts of protest from her mind, as her body took over her responses. She closed her eyes as Ian continued playing, pinching each of her nipples firmly between his thumbs and forefingers, tugging on them ever so slightly. A quiet moan escaped her lips.
Ian continued cupping and massaging her soft mounds as he again began kissing his way down the valley between them. His face pushed the jacket open, and his mouth moved up one side until his tongue found her rigid nipple. He drew it roughly into his mouth and clamped his lips firmly over it as it distended further. Claire moaned. He flicked his tongue rapidly back and forth across the nipple, and then he slowly nibbled his way over to the other breast to similarly tongue-lash her other nipple. Claire's knees were weakening at the delightful seduction.
As he continued sucking her nipple, one hand moved to the tender flesh on her inner thigh. Slowly she felt it make its way up toward her womanhood. Her short shorts were just loose enough for him to slip a single finger inside the leg, under the elastic of her panties and over her sex, gently parting her swollen lips. She was more wet with excitement than even she knew, and with ease he pushed his finger into her as deeply as he could. With a gasp, Claire instinctively parted her legs slightly, trying to improve his access, but Ian decided that access was too restricted for him.
"These will have to go too," Ian explained as he unsnapped and unzipped her shorts. He tugged them over her hips and they fell to the deck. Without protest, Claire stepped out of them and kicked them onto the gathering pile of her discarded clothing.
Ian rubbed his large, rough hands over the bare skin on her ass, left exposed by the tiny sheer thong panties that matched her bra. As one hand continued roaming over her ass, the other quickly found its way into her panties, roughly pulling aside the strip of thin material that only slightly covered her neatly trimmed bush. This time two of his fingers entered her together in a slightly twisting motion. When these two amply wet fingers found her clitoris she thought she would explode at the first touch. With expert precision he quickly brought her to the brink of release, where he stopped suddenly, withdrawing his hand from her panties.
He stood and wrapped his strong arms around her, feeling her impassioned heavy breathing against his chest. He bent down and whispered in her ear, "Not just yet, Miss." Claire was simply dizzy with the ache for release. She was complete putty in his hands now, and he knew it.
"Let's go forward," Ian said, as he grabbed Claire's hand and led her carefully toward the bow of the boat. When the pair reached the mast, amidship, he stopped and drew her to him, holding both her hands in his. At last he kissed her on the lips - long and passionately. It was their first kiss, and it seemed to last forever, as a fire burned deeply within Claire. He gently kissed the back of one hand then the other then had her clasp her hands together with fingers interlocking.
Ian locked his hands over hers and looked into her eyes. "Do you trust me?"
"Yes," she replied. "Maybe I shouldn't so quickly, but I do. Why?"
"Because what I'm going to do to you next requires that you trust me."
"Can I ask what it is you are planning to do to me?" she asked tentatively.
"It's best if I just show you." Ian unwound several feet of rope from the mast cleats and gently bound Claire's wrists together. "This."
Claire had played a few bondage games with one of her boyfriends a few years back, but somehow this seemed different -- this seemed to her a serious act of submission -- much more than the silly bedroom games she'd played before. As Ian ran the loose end of the rope through an overhead pulley, she felt that this was probably her last chance to stop him. But she had no desire to do so -- none whatsoever. Her only desire now was to follow eagerly wherever he took her.
Ian looked into Claire's eyes, and simply asked again, "Do you still trust me?"
"Completely," was her answer.
Slowly he drew the rope through the pulley, raising her bound hands over her head like a sail until her body was stretched just a bit. He kissed her again, as if the reassure her. She welcomed the kiss, but needed no such reassurance. She was quite sure of what she was doing, and quite determined to let Ian have his way with her, whatever that meant. The force of his kiss pressed her back against the mast, and the cold pole against her naked ass sent a sudden chill up her spine that contrasted sharply with the heat of his kiss.
Retrieving another length of rope from a nearby cleat, Ian knelt down and bound Claire's ankles to either side of the mast. Suddenly she found herself unstable, as her body weight swung back and forth each time the boat pitched slightly from the small bay waves. She looked rather like a human sail: feet anchored to the mast and body supported only by the ropes that suspended her wrists overhead. Ian stood watching her sway for a minute then pulled down on the pulley rope, stretching her body tighter and thereby limiting the extent of her motion.
Ian pulled the jacket open and gazed over her mostly naked body, suspended beautifully before him. "Gawd, Miss, you are really gorgeous like that."
"Thank you, Ian," she replied. "I feel a little..."
Ian interrupted, "As a sign of respect, Miss, I'd like you to address me as 'Captain' from now on."
"Yes, Captain. I will."
"Now you were saying you feel a little..."
"Ungainly," she finished his sentence. "Swinging around like this -- I must look pretty funny."
"Actually, I was just thinking how perfectly erotic you look stretched out like that. But, I think I can help stabilize you a bit if that is what you desire," Ian said.
"Please, Captain," she replied.
He quickly disappeared below deck and came back with more rope. It was a heavy rope, 3/8 inch thick, made of polypropylene and much softer than the coarse braided nylon rope that was giving some discomfort to her wrists and ankles. Ian tied one end to the mast behind her just about at the middle of her back. He pulled her jacket open and slowly wound the rope across her front and around behind the mast again, making a total of three passes just below her bare breasts. She was now lashed her securely to the mast. This put a quick end to her unsteady floundering. He made three more passes with the rope just above her breasts, squeezing them down slightly against the lower ropes and, as he observed out loud, causing them to jut out nicely. He finished off with two more passes of the rope, each crisscrossing between her breasts, before tying the end of the rope off to the mast.
"Better?" he asked.
"Yes, thank you Captain," she replied with a smile. "Much better."