Cruise Control
The job description never covers everything. There’s always something you don’t find out about until you actually start work—and sometimes not for a while after that.
If I’d had any idea what wasn’t being said in the job ad for an administrative post on a cruise liner, I would have had second thoughts about applying. But the advertisement only mentioned the usual mundane stuff, and as I needed to make at least one more application to meet my target for that week, and there was nothing obviously ruling me out for the position, I sent off my CV and a covering letter, which unexpectedly led to an interview, and then to my getting the job.
It wasn’t until I met the crew members with whom I would be working most closely that I found out the first undisclosed detail: the man I was replacing had been very popular with many of his colleagues, and they acted as if I was to blame for his having been fired. Working with people who don’t like you is never pleasant, but it’s a whole lot worse when you’re stuck on a ship with them rather than being able to go home and forget about them at the end of the day.
I was eating my lunch on the second day—alone, because my co-workers were avoiding me—when a low voice addressed me from a nearby table.
“Don’t look at me or do anything to indicate that I’m talking to you. If any of them find out, I’ll be for it.”
Resisting the urge to turn round, I made a noise that could have been taken as expressing assent or a sign of appreciating the food.
“It’s not fair that you should have a hard time because Colin couldn’t keep his fingers out of the till. Has anyone told you about tonight’s cabaret?”
I couldn’t see what the second of those sentences had to do with the first, but quietly indicated that the answer was no.
“The thing is, there’s this kind of tradition that new crew members have to volunteer for the show. I’m not saying that if you do, it’ll all be plain sailing from then on—if you’ll excuse the expression—but a lot of the others’ll be more accepting of you if you join in. So if you want any friends here, your best bet is to stick your hand up when she asks for members of the audience to take part.”
I muttered, “Thanks,” and got on with finishing my meal.
Checking the programme of events afterwards, I discovered that the centrepiece of the evening’s entertainment was to be a performance by a stage hypnotist. So that was the other big thing omitted from the job details: if I wanted to fit in, I had to be willing to let The Sensational Saida make a fool of me in front of the crew and passengers.
It was not an easy choice, even knowing that refusal was likely to make the voyage a lonely experience. Not that I had anything against hypnotists—quite the contrary, in fact. Which was where my problem lay. Ever since adolescence, the idea of being hypnotised has turned me on, and while I was grudgingly okay with the sort of humiliation that’s standard for hypnosis shows, I dreaded what might happen if everyone saw me get aroused on stage.
In the end I persuaded myself to go. My interest in hypnosis meant that I knew a fair bit about its limitations. I couldn’t be forced into trance, so as long as I kept my mind focused on the right things, I should be able to keep my secret a secret. I wouldn’t be a very entertaining volunteer, but hopefully my evident willingness to be part of the show would outweigh the disappointment of my seeming to be a poor hypnotic subject.
The Sensational Saida turned out to be an attractive woman of Indian extraction. For her act she wore a dark purple sari decorated with sequins, a great deal of jewellery, including dozens of bangles on each arm, and heavy mascara that accentuated the contrast between the mahogany brown of her eyes and her tan skin.
She must have known who I was, because her eyes lingered on me for a moment while she called for a dozen volunteers from the audience. I dutifully raised a hand, and was the seventh or eighth person she called up onto the stage.
Once we had filled the seats set out for us, she commenced the preliminary induction. She instructed us to link our fingers, went through a few deepeners, and then told us that our hands were stuck together, and we should try to separate them but would find ourselves unable to do so.
I pulled my hands apart—or attempted to, but my fingers remained entwined despite my best efforts. Some important part of my mind must not have got the memo about not letting her hypnotise me. And as I realised what had happened, I also felt myself becoming erect. My futilely-straining hands were perfectly positioned to hide this from the audience, but I knew I wasn’t going to be able to sit like that for the duration of the show.
Being in the second half of the group, I had a brief respite before The Sensational Saida turned her attention to me, so I continued struggling to free my hands from each other, at the same time firing mental commands at my cock, telling it to settle down.
At one point I looked up the line of volunteers to remind myself how many remained before the focus was turned upon me. Even as I registered that there were just two to go, I became aware that The Sensational Saida was looking at me. More specifically, at my crotch. From where she stood, my hands concealed nothing.
Her gaze flicked upwards, her eyes meeting mine for a second before she turned away to speak to the volunteer next in line from where she stood. I redoubled my efforts, but my hands were still locked together.
The volunteer directly before me was a big, hairy guy with tattoos. The Sensational Saida told him that he was the world’s top Britney Spears tribute act, and that he was here to put on a show for the audience.
As he seized the proffered microphone, stood, and began to butcher ‘I’m a Slave 4 U’, The Sensational Saida stepped closer to me and discreetly muted her radio mike. Speaking out of the side of her mouth, she told me, “Come to my dressing room after the show, and stop being horny until then.”
To my amazement and relief, my hard-on began to subside.
She went on, “The next time I say ‘now’, pull your hands apart and wave them in the air. Then act normal until you’re alone with me.”
Unmuting the mike, she encouraged the audience to applaud ‘Brodney’ and got him to sit back down. Then she turned the focus onto me. “And now, you…”
My hands shot apart and flailed above my head. The Sensational Saida feigned a double-take. “You’re obviously not a good hypnotic subject, but what a showman!”
She turned to the audience. “He could’ve done that at any time, but he waited for the perfect dramatic moment. Give him a round of applause for being a good sport.”
The clapping as she directed me to return to my seat was pretty perfunctory, but I didn’t care. I was too relieved that my hypnosis fetish hadn’t been publicly exposed, and nervous about what might happen after the show.
A group of the catering staff waved me over to an empty chair at their table, and I gratefully joined them to watch the rest of the performance. The red-faced woman sitting next to me leaned over and said, “I could’ve sworn your hands were really stuck together up there.”
“Glad I was convincing,” I lied. “I was worried I might have overdone it a bit.”
After the curtain dropped, my table companions headed for the bar. Jenny, the woman beside me, invited me to join them, but I had somewhere else I needed to be, and had already thought up an excuse for sloping off.
“Maybe later, but first I need to have a word with Saida, make sure she’s not mad at me for spoiling the show.”
“What? You heard what she said up there. Nothing to worry about.”
“That was her being professional. It wouldn’t have looked good if she’d lost her temper mid-performance, so she acted like it was no big deal and quickly moved on to the next volunteer. But she might actually be cross if she thinks I was trying to upstage her with the show I put on.”
“I bet she’s already forgotten about it. In fact, I’ll make that a proper bet. If she is pissed off, I’ll buy you a drink. If she’s fine with it, you owe me one. You on?”
I agreed, even though I was sure it was a bet I would be losing. Even at the prices the bar would charge, it was a small price to pay for being able to end the conversation and give in to the compulsion to head backstage.
I knocked at the dressing room door.
“Come in,” called Saida’s voice, and I obeyed.
She was now wearing a long charcoal-grey robe. Her eye make-up was unchanged, though, and she transfixed me with her gaze. “Drop deeper.”
A hazy sensation overlaid my thoughts, and I became aware that my erection had returned with a vengeance.
“Strip,” she commanded. “And kneel.”
I shed my clothes and dropped to my knees.
She looked at my engorged cock and grinned. “I was right to save you for afters. But before we go any further, there’s something I want to know.” Her voice gained a slight edge. “Up on stage, when I had you in trance, I saw fear in your eyes. Tell me, what were you so afraid of?”
“Of people finding out about my fetish. Getting labelled a pervert. Maybe even a disciplinary for sexual harassment, if anyone took offence at seeing me up there with a hard-on.”
“And that’s all? Nothing else?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“What about the colour of my skin?”
“It’s beautiful.”
“You don’t think I’m going to sacrifice you to Kali or eat you alive?”
“No.” The absurdity of the question startled me enough that the fog in my mind thinned.
“I’ve known men who did harbour superstitious fears like that.”
Scarcely able to believe that anyone could be that stupid, I blinked a few times, which must have indicated to her that the trance had weakened.
Leaning down, she whispered a drawn-out, “Deeper,” into my ear, and I sank again.
Saida drew back. “Good boy. Now tell me the truth: are you not afraid of me at all?”
I swallowed. “I didn’t think it was possible to hypnotise someone who didn’t want to be. But you did it. I’m a bit scared of that, but I’d be scared of anyone who had such power, regardless of colour.”
She laughed. “I don’t have any special powers. That’s all you. You tell yourself you don’t want to be hypnotised, but your subconscious says, ‘Yes, I want to be hypnotised. I want a sexy woman to take control of me. I want to submit to Saida.’ And your body agrees with your subconscious, and slips into trance for me.”
I didn’t find that particularly reassuring, though my dick indicated its agreement by stiffening that bit more.
She leaned forward again, her dark eyes filling my vision. “Don’t worry. I can’t make you do anything you really don’t want to. Maybe I can show you that you do want to do things you think you don’t, but that’s all.”
Abruptly straightening up, she turned and crossed the room to a chair, then turned again to face me once more. “You want to crawl over here and lick my pussy. The scent, the taste, are so heavenly that you will want to do it every night. And they make that fat prick of yours even bigger.”
She undid the robe and dropped it to the floor, revealing herself to be naked underneath. I found my eyes irresistibly drawn to her lower lips and the mat of dark hair above them, and began to approach her on my hands and knees. She sat perched on the edge of the seat, spreading her legs for me, and I buried my face between them and began to lick.
My head swam with the intoxicating perfume of her pussy, and my tongue greedily sought the spot that would make her delicious juices flow more freely. She seized my ears and minutely adjusted the position of my head to help me, her grip tightening as I succeeded in bringing her to orgasm and gulped down as much as I could of the divine nectar that gushed onto my face and into my mouth. Some part of my mind registered the pain of her fingernails digging into the backs of my ears, and of my cock swelling even further, but I licked on regardless, teasing her towards a second climax.
She pulled my head away from her, and I gasped at the sudden separation and the chill of the air on my face. “On the floor,” she panted. “On your back.”
I lay back as directed, and drew a shuddering breath as she squatted on top of me, taking my throbbing shaft into her warm, wet slit and beginning to move slowly up and down on my length. Moments before I had thought that nothing could be more pleasurable than eating her out, but this felt even better.
“S- stroke my tits,” she commanded me, and for the second time that evening my hands rose up in response to her instruction. Her breasts were medium-sized, with large areolas, and my palms and fingers explored their curves while my thumbs rubbed against the dark circles surrounding her nipples.
“Fuck me.” She increased the pace of her movements, and I began to thrust upwards in time with them. I wanted to cum, needed to cum, but knew I had to wait for her, and then, mercifully, I felt her body clench with her climax, and could find my own release.
She leaned forward, putting her hands on my shoulders to support herself. After catching her breath, she asked, “Do you want to be mine?”
“Yes, please,” I answered.
“Good choice. Let’s get ourselves decent and head off to my cabin for more fun.”
The following morning, as I was getting my breakfast, Jenny commented, “You never showed up again last night.”
“Sorry about that. Saida and I got talking, and I lost track of the time. By the way, I owe you a drink.”
“Talking, eh?”
During a pause between sessions of lovemaking, Saida had made it clear to me what I could disclose about our relationship if anyone asked, and what had to remain between us. In view of some crew’s attitudes, keeping her dominant nature a secret had a higher priority even than concealing my own submissive side.
“Not just talking,” I admitted. “There’s nothing in the rules expressly forbidding… more than chat.”
Jenny raised an eyebrow. “Really? Didn’t think she was the type. Most here reckon she’s frigid. Or lesbian, though it’s only men as say that.”
“I guess the other men weren’t her type.”
“Could be. You’re the first one she didn’t put the ‘fluence on. Must be difficult to respect a bloke once you’ve made him chase an imaginary chicken around the ballroom.”
“Perhaps that’s it.”
Thanks to that conversation, the gossip that inevitably circulated regarding Saida and me never came anywhere near the details we wanted to remain under wraps. My beloved Saida even found several of the crew becoming more friendly towards her, now she’d shown herself to be what they considered normal. The colleagues who’d resented me for not being my predecessor gradually came to accept me, and by the end of that first cruise I knew I’d found my place in life. On the ship and, more importantly, under Saida’s spell.