You want a spot of breakfast: meet her in the dining hall.

Sexy celebrity slaves are all well and good, but you can't truly enjoy them on an empty stomach, now can you? Breakfast is being served in the dining hall- all good sex cruises leave port nice and early, after all- and so you make your selection and take a leisurely stroll across the ship's deck to get there. The ship is mostly empty at this stage, but filling up gradually, as more and more passengers make their way on board and, consequently, extra staff and slaves come out of hiding to assist them.

Surveying the slaves, in particular, fills your mind with ideas of mix-and-match celebrity threesomes, all wonderfully at your fingertips for the duration of the cruise...

The dining hall is through a pair of heavy, wooden doors that automatically close behind you once you're through them. Your feet sink into the plush carpet, and your eyes take a moment to adjust to the dimmer mood lighting after the bright morning sun outside. Polished wood tables dot the room, secured to the floor to avoid tipping, and at the opposite end of the room lay a stage, for those who required some entertainment with their meal.

One other passenger had made it here before you, sitting at a table in the far corner with... yes, that's Jennifer Lawrence squirming in his lap. He's taking plenty of liberties over there, but that's okay: you're pretty much here for the same reason, after all.

'G-good morning, Sir,' comes a tremulous voice to your right. Turning, you see her for the first time; she must have been waiting behind the door for you. Emma Watson's mouth is set in a deep frown, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, covering her breasts and the revealing, powder blue little number she's wearing on them. Her hips are clad likewise, in a pair of blue boyshorts that cling lovingly to her like a second skin. 'You sent for me?'

'I did,' you nod, taking in the nervousness in her eyes, as they darted about your body, studying every part of you she can lay eyes on. 'I thought it'd be nice to have some company for breakfast.'

'Oh, I imagine it might for you, Sir,' Emma replies, stressing the word "you" most definitely, as she glances momentarily across the room to Jennifer, her fellow ****, currently with her top pulled down and her nipple grasped firmly in her molester's fingers.

'Don't count me out before you've had me,' you respond calmly, acknowledging up front your true intentions for her. 'Perhaps I'll surprise you. Now come, girl.'

Beckoning, you lead her to a table and seat yourself. Emma refuses to do likewise, hovering at your side at as far a distance from you as she can get away with. You don't doubt that she wants to keep her distance from you for pragmatic reasons, but you're also aware of the ship's rules: a **** may not seat themselves on the furniture without the permission of their current... user.

A waiter detaches himself from a cart piled with dishes and heads to your table, holding a menu. It seems like an excellent opportunity to give your order, in all senses of the word.