Tonight was the night of the first introduction dinner, where all the Californian dommes and subs could meet. We were directed into the dining hall via two doors: one for domes and one for subs. I entered the room and found a single-person table. Looking at the domme side of the room revealed men and women alike, each with their table. Each table was supplied with a folded plastic card and a Sharpie. I picked mine up, wrote Alexander S. Dalken "Alex," and placed it back down. Some of the dommes were chit-chatting back and forth. They probably shared stories and discussed some of the subs they had already met. I looked around and found the orange man from the other day. He was staring at me with a hateful look. His submissive, the redhead, must have been on the other side of the curtain that separated the room.

A short, elderly Asian man walked up to the microphone, a TV screen on our side centering him for us. Presumably, the subs on the other side had the same.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,'" he spoke in the voice of a man with wisdom and age experience. The kind of voice that even wise men quieted down to hear. "It was three years ago that I brought the Lady's Gift to the American. From shores from Japan across the ocean so that you may enjoy the freedoms of sexual exploration that may not be available to you where you live. We kick off our meet and greet tonight, where the dommes," his right hand moved to encompass our side of the curtain, "and the subs," his other hand encompassed them, "can meet.

"Tonight, the ship will sail out to international waters. We will enjoy a day of activities and seminars tomorrow as we sail. Then we pulled into Seattle, Washington, and the next day moored in Victoria. As for tonight, meet and greet and have fun. Please remember to play safely and that crew services are a phone call away. We have done our best to ensure that there are three subs to every two dommes; there is plenty to choose from for everybody."

I looked around the room, which was crowded with people introducing themselves. Dommes are trying to sell themselves to subs as the best choice available. I shook my head in disgust. Maybe this cruise was a bad idea, I thought to myself. I shouldn't have taken it as well. Then, out of my eye, I noticed a woman who caught my eye. There was just something about her. Sitting alone at a table, her name card neatly placed before her. I couldn't make the name out. She looked strained, her elbows propped up on the table with her head resting in her hands. Her fingers slowly felt out each part of the French braid her brown hair was done up in, tightening it if it was loose. I sat and watched. Why was she alone?

I watched as a man approached and pitched his best line. She shook her head, and he shrugged, turning away, rejected. Men and women alike approached her as I watched. Each, in turn, was unceremoniously turned down before they stood there for more than a minute. What was her deal, I wondered? Presumably, each had applied their case as the greatest domme ever in a vain attempt to impress her. Either way, each had been declined. She frowned and looked like I felt. I bet she thought this may have been a mistake, too. Another man came up; whatever he said caused her to blush brightly. Bright enough for me to see from across the room. He was rejected, too, and was sent off with a slap across his face. Whatever he had said, she looked embarrassed, making her look even more pretty as her olive skin turned shades of pink and red.

I was now completely intrigued. There was maybe a true sub and a woman worth conquering. Funny as it sounds, the real power in the submissive/dominant relationship lies with the sub. They could say no, no matter what you said or did. A no was a no; if you didn't listen, you were committing a crime. Legally, no is no, and it doesn't matter your culture or lifestyle. Here was a timid, pretty little woman, a total sub by her mannerisms. She was acting like a domme among dommes who were acting like subs. I smiled. She was pretty and intriguing, and I wanted her for myself.

Then our eyes locked. She watched me as I watched her. Our eyes spoke volumes as we both calculated each other. Her weighing me and I her. Every part of me screamed to go to her, to win her over, but that wouldn't happen. If she wanted, she could come to me. I refused to be like these other domes, running over to the subs and trying to scoop them up and impress them with their over-inflated versions of themselves.

I graced her with a smile, and she looked away, blushing again. It was funny to me how she blushed at a mere smile. She had broken eye contact, so I looked around the room. Now, I would ignore her or seem to forgive her. If she wanted, she would come to me.

I watched as people left the room together and as others sat and talked. The two schoolgirls giggled and drank. If I were to guess, this part of the ship would be filled with the screams of pleasure tonight. Hopefully, the rest of the staterooms were as well soundproofed as mine. My mind drifted back to Aria. I did enjoy my toys, but something easily got lost and was quickly forgotten. I let her drift out of my mind and focused back on the room. I looked back to the mystery ladies' side of the room. I avoided her table, but my peripheral vision scoped out the scene for me. She still sat there. I wanted to give in and go to her badly, but that wasn't who I was anymore. I wouldn't be another reject added to her list.

Well, I thought there would be other chances to meet her by winning myself over after an internal battle. The ship had plenty of activities; she would have to be at one. I started to gather my things and get up. She was standing there before my table, smiling at me. She hadn't spoken a word. We stared at each other and began a silent game of who would crack first. I sat down, leaning back slightly in my chair, and smiled at her again. I kept my eyes from wandering. Her blush from earlier returned, more profound this time. Finally, her lips parted, and I was sure she would speak, but she paused. A test, I was sure, trying to get me to break the silence first. I waited.

"May I sit?" she asked, her voice like the softest honey, sweet and smooth. I would have missed it when she spoke if I hadn't been waiting for it. I nodded at the chair across from me and waited till she sat. She was taller than most women, almost six feet if my guess was correct. Her slim body was in a soft-looking blue summer dress that danced about her knees and hugged her petite hips. Its fabric barely revealed her firm breast. Those perky breasts filled her top nicely but weren't so large as to make her unproportioned. She was shy, timid, and modest, but not so modest that she didn't show a little flesh. I smiled, pleased with myself and my assessment. She fixed herself into the chair and studied the table. I eyed her now crossed legs, partly wishing they had revealed more. Yet I was glad, too, that they did not simultaneously.

I liked a little mystery. Her height seemed to be mostly from her long legs, decently muscled but still sexy. I viewed her legs, wishing to caress them. Wanting to feel her soft olive skin beneath my rough fingers. To caress her from her feet, framed in dark leather sandals offset by her royal blue polished toes, all the way up to her perfect thighs. After a proper flailing, of course, I thought to myself. What kind of panties did she wear, I thought? I was amused as I pictured her wearing different underwear before settling on bikini bottoms. Bikini bottoms were still sexy but not as promiscuous as a thong, which she didn't seem the type. Although I liked boy shorts too, I wondered if she did. Boy shorts seemed a little too boyish or sporty for her.

"So," I said, hoping to encourage her voice to find its rhythm again. I waited, looking at her, losing myself in her eyes' gentle browns and greens.

"So," she repeated, her eyes briefly gazing at me before returning to the table she was studying. I hadn't boasted; in return, she had not rejected me yet. My following words were crucial. Her face turned from pink to a slight red. Her head tilted so I could see a few of the springy brown curls that had escaped the braid. She began twirling the escapees around her fingers as if reading my mind.

"Are you enjoying the first day of the cruise?" I asked, guessing that she was not. That would change, I thought as I smiled at her again. My smile earned a deeper shade of red as she blushed brightly. Her beautiful face, with its soft features accentuating the reds, made them seem almost natural.

"No, to be honest," she spoke at the table. "I am not sure why I came. I know why, but this may have been a mistake," she whispered, her eyes still not leaving the table. My eyes wandered from her legs to her firm breast, wondering if she used a push-up or a demi bra.

"I have wondered the very same thing," I said, shaking my head. "Well, why don't we start fresh and improve it from here on out? I'm Alex," I asked, extending my hand and introducing myself.

"Alesha," she said, eyes lifting to catch mine. God, she was a gorgeous little thing. She gripped my hand, her skin softer than I could have imagined. My mind instantly raced to her legs again. I bet her inner thighs were this smooth. I felt myself harden just a little at the thought and let go of her hand before it lingered too long. She broke eye contact, her cheeks flushed still, and the red creeping to her neck. Her fingers left the curls behind to trail down to her collarbone. I tucked a dangling strand behind her ear.

"So Alesha, why did you come?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"Oh," she fumbled, and her hand instantly. Her hand left her collarbone and went below the table, where I am sure it met her other hand, and they nervously danced.

"I'm not sure I want to discuss it," she whispered, tears filling her eyes before she fought them back, not spilling a single one. I was even more intrigued; whatever past she had was probably brutal. I was on the verge of losing her and ending up with another rejection on her list.

"Oh, no worries," I said, trying to save the conversation. I wanted to reach out and hold her, but that kind of softness may well ruin the sub/domme relationship I was trying to form. "Would you like to go out on deck for a walk?" I asked, hoping the calm sea would distract her.

She looked up, and I already knew the answer. I got up and waited for her to follow. Her long, slender legs touched the floor gracefully. Her dress swished about just above her knees as she walked to me. She moved closer to follow, and her knees buckled. I swooped in and caught her. My hand slid in around her waist. My fingers gripping her gently but firmly. I could tell this girl was no stranger to physical activity. Her stomach felt toned and tight. Her body had already reacted to catch herself, but now that I had her, I wouldn't let go. She didn't seem to mind as my hand lingered on her waist as we walked.

"You are the first to ask me outside or anywhere besides back to a room," she said, smiling at the floor, "one jerk asked me to be his daughter's slave."

The doors outside opened automatically, and a fresh, salty breeze immediately hit us. The ship was moving slowly, and the waves around us were gentle. She stared out at the ocean, a look of wonder filling her with life and making her glow. We stepped up to the rail and just continued staring out. The sun was still a bit over the horizon, and the far edge of the vast blue sea was splashed with reds and oranges. It was like a giant can of paint had spilled, and the paint was flowing toward us across a rippling blue canvas.

"I am not like other dommes," I said, "these dommes seem to beg and boast unwittingly."

"It's beautiful," she whispered as the rest of the world faded away. Her cheeks lost their blush as if only she and the ocean existed. This was the faithful Alesha, a strong, beautiful woman full of confidence and life. Alesha was excellent; she just needed to discover it for herself. Someone must have damaged her, I thought. I stepped up behind her, and she flinched, but realizing it was me, she relaxed, but only a little.

"It's a bit cold, isn't it?" I asked for her sake, not mine. I was used to this weather. I leaned in so that when she answered, I would hear her. She smelled amazing. It reminded me of the smell after a good rain but with a salty sea breeze. I wasn't sure about her scent, but I loved it.

"No, it's fine. This is beautiful," she whispered, her voice almost lost in the wind, even with me leaning close. We stood there in silence as the sun set, with me standing just behind her. She leaned back every so often to make sure I was still there. I moved closer, gently pressing our bodies together. I worried she might move away, but she leaned against me.

Giggling disturbed the moment. We both turned to see one of the women dressed as a schoolgirl being led to a semi-dark corner of the weather deck. She didn't move to leave, so I stood there and watched on. The blonde pigtails bounced back and forth as she giggled. The older man escorting her looked like a professor. She knelt before him and undid his belt. Alesha breathed in deeply. Her hand reached back to grip my pant leg. The schoolgirl released the older man's veiny penis, and her head began to bob back and forth. Alesha's gaze seemed fixed.

"Yes, you little tramp," the professor said, "remember to cradle. You are being graded on this performance."

"Yes, sir," she replied, pulling the cock from her mouth. Her blonde pigtails made swishing movements as her head moved back and forth. I began to harden behind Alesha. Alesha watched on and pressed harder against me. The schoolgirl sucked this older man's cock with the practiced ease of a girl who had seduced many a teacher. We watched as she cradled his balls in her hand, her mouth continuing to work on him.

"Yes, that is how I like it, " he told her as his hand gripped one of her pigtails. Alesha's hand rubbed my leg up and down. This show was making her hot, I thought to myself. Her touch had me responding in kind.

"Alesha, are you a voyeur?" I asked, knowing the answer. My hand moved slowly up from her hip to her toned belly.

"It's just so hot watching them," she whispered, "do they have no decency?" Her hand had found my erection, and she now gripped it tightly. My hand rubbed across the soft fabric up to her firm breast and over hardened nipples. She moaned as I did so and gripped me harder.

The professor pulled the girl up and turned her around. She giggled loudly and looked back at him over her shoulder.

"Sir, did I do well?" she asked as he lifted her skirt onto her back and pulled a ruler from his tweed jacket.

"You did well but could have done so much better. If only you applied yourself, Brittany," he said. Then he laid the ruler sharply across her exposed skin. She yelped loudly. He smacked her three more times, then tucked the ruler away.

"Sir. Please, let me try again," she begged, tears filling her eyes.

Alesha moaned as my fingers toyed with her hard nipples.

"Brittany, you have already been graded on that assignment," he said, smiling down at her, "but I will give you an extra credit assignment."

He finished pulling her red panties aside to reveal her soaking pussy and a hairy bush. He entered her quickly, and she moaned. He rocked back and forth, and her moans filled the air.

Alesha continued to watch, gaze fixed solidly. Her hand fumbled with my zipper, and shortly, my cock was out in the cold air. I smiled to myself. Did she have no decency? The soft skin of her hand rubbed my hard cock. I lowered a hand to lift her dress.

"Not all the way," she whispered. "Stay on the outside of my underwear," she ordered. I hesitated, who was she to order me around, I thought. I allowed her to play with my cock as she watched. The professor gripped Brittany's pigtails like reins and fucked her hard. Alesha trembled against me.

"Please, Alex," she whispered, watching the scene before us, "please rub me." That was more like it, I thought. I lifted her sundress, my hand exploring her body. She had shaved or waxed before the cruise. She was starting to soak through her panties. I rubbed a finger up and down the slit of her pussy. I was instantly rewarded for my touch as she began to tremble and moan for more.

The schoolgirl began to scream as the professor fucked her harder and faster. I upped the tempo of my rubbing to match his tempo. Alesha moaned loudly, her hand leaving my cock to rub her aching nipples. She leaned completely against me as I stroked her harder.

The professor cried out loud, pulled out, and pushed Brittany to her knees.

Alesha moaned again, her eyes taking everything in. I rubbed hard against her covered clit.

The professor grabbed his cock and began jerking it off. With a desperate moan, he shot his load across Brittany's face. He continued, and Brittany waited patiently as the spurt landed on her face.

"God! Fuck! Don't stop," Alesha commanded as she began to climax.

The professor looked over his shoulder at us, and Alesha turned bright red. My fingers slipped her panties aside and entered her. She screamed as she came. I slowly pressed into her smooth wet pussy, and she came again and again in powerful orgasms. I pulled my finger out and smiled at her.

After Brittany cleaned her face off, we all parted ways. Alesha thanked me, dropped her dress, and ran off silently. I shrugged. The cruise had a lot of activities starting in the morning. She had had a trying day. I smiled, I didn't want to push her too hard, too fast.

There was something special about her—something sweet, something broken, something someone hadn't treasured. I would break through the wall she had up if only to discover the secrets it held. I couldn't help but smile back to my room.