Judged by Him Read Online Free

door.
    They stood in the owner’s salon and bar. Off the central space were a mahogany-furnished office and a small pantry with dumbwaiter to the main galley.
    Forward was the stateroom. The spacious compartment, complete with panoramic windows semi-circling around the bow of the yacht, stunned Gemma. The emperor-sized bed stood centre stage, its large backboard of wood and marble, providing a privacy screen when entering the room. Chest of drawers lined each side of the cabin and in the bay of the bow windows, sofas and armchairs. Two bathrooms adorned either side of the stateroom, each decorated with mirrors, marble, and gilt-edged tiles. His, with a shower and dressing area, her larger one with a Jacuzzi, shower, and generous closets and dressing table.
    After two years with Jason, Gemma had become accustomed to luxury, but to have it all on such a grand scale and in immaculate condition impressed. She swooned, if only emotionally. At the base of their bed, a glass-topped low table and above it a separate light fitting. To an innocent bystander, perfectly acceptable furnishings. Jason placed the contents of his jacket pocket on the glazed surface and grinned at Gemma as she lined up the ceiling with the table.
    “Yes, you’ve guessed. An additional feature required only by me, the owner. It disappears when chartered.”
    Jason retrieved a remote from the bedside cabinet.
    He pressed one button, and blinds sheathed the windows, casting the room into semi-darkness. Another button and the lights came up gradually. Then the ceiling compartment slid open to reveal a ring and pulley.
    “I told you I was going to string you up, didn’t I?” Jason tapped the table. “Tucked away in this room is a padded top for this. So don’t worry about the glass.”
    The remote activated and everything returned to normal lighting and style.
    Gemma gulped and stood nervously, tapping a foot repeatedly. Enrique and Maria arrived with their luggage and Esteban with a tray of refreshments.
    “We will have the food on the sundeck, please,” announced Jason.
    He led her up the stairs to the flybridge, complete with a mast arch in the centre to cover the bar and yet another dining table. A cascading pool to the aft with sun loungers and, to the bow, a large lounger. It resembled a bed: square shaped and sheltered by a fixed white canopy draped over it like a tent and anchored with poles.
    “It can get hot out on the ocean. This keeps the sun off all day.” Jason settled on the lounger, and Gemma lay down next to him.
    Her heart thumped with excitement.
    “All this space, just for us,” she marvelled. “I can’t get my head around it.”
    Enrique appeared with the tray of refreshments and laid it on a low table next to lounger.
    Jason nodded in dismissal. “Thank you. We won’t need anything else for now.”
    Enrique retreated.
    “Grapes, bread?” Jason asked. “The Spanish eat late. It will be a while before we have to leave for dinner.”
    Gemma dined on bread and salami, quaffing the fresh orange juice. She examined the surroundings, twisting about while popping grapes into her mouth. The lounger reminded her of a four-poster bed, the kind Jason favoured in his dungeon.
    “This is a fuck pad for you, isn’t it?” she blurted. “The canopy, the seclusion.”
    “We’re not exactly overlooked up here, Gem. Until we’re at sea, anyway. Yes, the canopy provides shelter from the sun. But you’ve guessed correctly. An innocuous arrangement to a charter guest, not to us—the support poles come in very useful. Speaking of the sun, make sure you use plenty of lotion. On this deck, you bathe nude. I don’t want any of those white strap marks or a pale arse on you. Nice and even all over. Don’t overdo it though.” He slapped her bottom as she lounged on her belly. “I don’t want a bronzed goddess. A golden tan will do.”
    “Do I get a bronzed god?” She sniggered.
    “You’ll get what you’re given. As usual,” he