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Prisoner in Paradise Ch. 01

By: Hubee



As the taxi delivers you to the entrance to the hotel you can still feel the anger boiling in the pit of your stomach. This holiday had been planned for months and at the last moment your sister had pulled out. In the back of your mind you had always suspected that Sally would, and this only stokes your anger. It had taken ages for you to convince her that you both needed a break. You got her to agree that somewhere tropical would be nice. You suggested the island of Koh Samui in the Gulf of Thailand and she went along with your suggestions. Sally had even picked out a hotel that she had heard good reports about. You booked the tickets and she offered to pay. Her high-powered job meant that the money was nothing to her but you insisted on paying your share. 

Then with two days to departure "an urgent and important" contract needed closing and she was not going to be able to "get away".

"Fuck her" you mutter to yourself. 

Perhaps not quite to yourself you realise, as you catch the quick glance the bell-boy gives you as he unloads your cases. You tell yourself, for about the thousandth time, that you have made the right decision to come by yourself. You remember Sally's reaction when you told her of your spur of the moment decision to go anyway, without her. Her look of amazement had been almost comical. You remember the rage that grew when you realised that she expected you to cancel as well. She had just assumed that you would not be brave enough to go by yourself. This realisation had caused a whim to become a concrete conviction - you would go anyway, by yourself.

Now as you stand at the check-in desk you can feel your conviction flowing away. Perhaps this was not such a good idea after all. Drawing yourself up you decide to make the best of a bad situation and try to enjoy your week. The formalities complete you follow the bell-hop to your room.

The Boat House Hotel looks like any other luxury hotel in the world; from the front. But as you wind your way through the gardens you begin to see the first of it's hidden charms and surprises. The 'premium' rooms, closest to the beach, are actually boats. Traditional high-sided Thai boats, made of teak, have been converted to palatial cabins or suites. 

You stop for a second to marvel at your boat/room, standing in a steel cradle that is concealed by tropical greenery. You follow the bell-boy up the short flight of stairs to the door that has been cut into the hull of the boat. You tip him and send him away quickly. You don't want him to show you the room; you have always enjoyed exploring for yourself. Locking the door behind him you begin to examine your new surroundings. The entrance foyer opens into the large, airy bedroom. Bright sunlight streams through the portholes retained in the boat and falls on the king-sized four-poster bed, looking slightly out of place in these surroundings. A large ceiling fan slowly circulates the air but the cool temperature is due to the efficient air-conditioner that you can just hear humming somewhere.

The bathroom is startling in it's sumptuousness. Huge mirrors, cream marble and porcelain everywhere. A big stack of luxurious fluffy towels - even a small spa bath. A small sitting room opens from the bedroom and leads onto the patio. As you throw open the curtains and the sliding doors your senses are almost overwhelmed by a flood of visual input. The patio to your room overlooks a scene straight out of a tourist brochure. A stream, dammed up by the beach, has formed a beautiful lake. The bright refection of the sun from the water causes you to shade your eyes as you continue to examine the vista. 

The seamless blending of God's hand and an army of gardener's has created a riot of tropical foliage. You notice hibiscus and bougainvillaea growing amongst the palms. As you watch a large, silver fish leaps from the water once, twice and then a third time, before disappearing - leaving only a series of expanding circles on the calm surface. You laugh with almost child like delight at the sight and feel the tiniest bit of big city tension ease from your shoulders and neck.

The light breeze carries myriad scents to you across the lake. You can smell the perfumes of the flowers, somewhere a barbecue is cooking, but mainly you can smell salt. The elemental call of the sea fills your mind and you swap the idea of a shower for an immediate swim, to wash away your travel weariness. 

Zipping open your suitcase you hunt for your bikini. Finding it brings back some of the anger you had begun to lose. Sally had always been the confident one and wore the skimpiest swimwear at the beach, often going topless with out any trace of self-consciousness. You had envied this and when you went shopping for the holiday you had been pretty daring with your swim-suit. The bottom half was a g-string style with high cut sides. The top was only a couple of triangles of colourful material that would struggle to contain your breasts. When Sally was going to be with you felt that you could carry it off, now you are not so sure.

With a sudden rush of holiday "devil-may-care" you strip, leaving your clothes in a heap and put on the bikini. You examine your reflection in the floor to ceiling mirrors on the wardrobe, pleased with what you see. The extra work you put in at the gym before the holiday has paid off. The bikini is revealing but feel that you can carry it off. If you change your mind you can always buy something more 'modest' in the hotel shop later you decide. Despite this surge of confidence you throw on the beach-robe hanging in the bathroom before grabbing a book, a towel, sunglasses and some suntan lotion and heading for the beach.

The path to the beach passes the pool and as you walk the sight of your fellow guests causes your spirits to sink again. A first glance makes you realise that the hotel's clientele can be summarised in just a few words - rich, old, fat, in couples and mainly German from the snatches of conversation you hear coming from the sun lounges around the pool. Not much chance of romance here you conclude gloomily. 

But as you hit the beach your heart soars. It is postcard perfect. Gleaming white sand is shaded on one edge by she-oaks and coconut palms and lapped at the other by tiny blue-green wavelets. The beach is totally deserted and overcome with abandon you pause only to throw down what you carry and strip off your robe before racing for the water with a whoop of delight. The first splashing of the water on your calves and feet feels deliciously cold but you continue to run, forcing your way through the incoming waves. When the water is thigh high you take a deep breath and throw yourself forward in an arcing dive.

As you body passes through the plane between air and water you feel an almost mystical experience of change. All your worries and cares from the "real world" seem instantly washed away by the caress of the sea. As you surface for air you feel like a new person, more alive in some way, capable of anything.

After swimming a few hundred yards you make your way to shore and stride out of the water to your towel, feeling like a goddess. A combination of the warm afternoon air and your towel soon have you mainly dry. You position your towel for a little sun bathing and open your book but cannot seem to get interested. The sensual, languid tropical air seems to have permeated your body. Tossing down the book you suddenly sit up and strip off you bikini top, something you have never done on a public beach before. But it would seem that all the other guests, inexplicably, would prefer to crowd around the pool than enjoy this beautiful beach, so no-one is around to see.

Careful to avoid sunburn to your creamy, D cup, globes you rub suntan lotion into your breasts and rosy nipples. The tropical mood that has invaded your soul continues to motivate you and your mind drifts of into a reverie as you massage the oil into your nipples. You snap back to consciousness when you notice that your nipples have crinkled and become hard -- 'standing out like organ stops' you think to yourself. In addition your pussy is ever so slightly damp and sticky. You wonder at the change that has come over you as you lie down on your back to bake.

After only a few minutes you hear voices approaching, male voices. Suddenly embarrassed at your virtual nakedness you roll over, to hide your breasts in your towel, and to find out where the voices are coming from. The first thing you notice, through the trees, is the Boat Hotel's next-door neighbour. Your hotel is a strip development from the road to the beach and immaculate for every yard. Beside it, like a photo negative, is it's complete antithesis, a Backpackers Hostel. Its 'suites' are ramshackle wooden huts on stilts, so weathered that they blend in with the trees, explaining why you had not initially noticed them. The facilities may not be the same as your hotel but for a fraction of the cost the backpackers could certainly enjoy the same climate - and the same beach.

The two men coming down from the hostel certainly intend to use the beach. As they come into sight you notice that one is carrying a volleyball. But that is not all you notice. As you watch from the corner of your eye, behind your mirrored sunglasses, you can't help but check out the first likely talent you have spotted so far.

The two men look alike in some ways. Both are well tanned, obviously having spent a long part of their extended holiday in the sun. The sun has bleached their hair dirty blonde and they both wear baggy shorts and T-shirts. But there the similarity ends. One is about 6ft tall and broad shouldered, thick-thighed and generally heavily muscled. The other is perhaps 5ft 8inches and lithe, obviously fit. They look like a middleweight boxer, or a gymnast.

As they walk past you feign indifference to their presence and they do the same. They commence a noisy game of beach volley-ball over a torn net. Their friendly insults and taunts reveal several things to you. You learn that the bigger of the two men is named Hugh and the other called Guy. You also realise that they are showing off like small boys, trying to attract your attention. Pretending not to notice, or look, you move on your towel to get a better view, still on your stomach. The men throw themselves across the sand, athletically trying to return the ball. Soon the sweat is glistening on their hard bodies. They have discarded their shirts and you can see the sand crusted to their flat, hard, chest muscles.

Without warning you can feel the warm, wetness returning to your pussy. You decide that perhaps you have had enough of a good thing, besides which the sun is starting to dip and the temperature has fallen a little. A sudden brazen thought enters your mind and you stand up without bothering to put your bikini top back on. You gather up your things without bothering to put on the robe either. As you walk away from the beach you try to pretend that you haven't noticed that the boys have stopped playing to watch you. But you give them an extra wiggle of your ass, knowing that it is almost completely exposed by your thong swim-suit bottoms. 

You smile to yourself as wonder at this new woman that you have become. You also wonder how, or when, you will meet those two men again. Even your wildest imaginings could not have been right.

Your mood of tropical abandonment continues when you return to your room. Without bothering to dress you throw your things down on the bed and open the sliding doors to the balcony. You continue to be amazed at your new brazenness. Anyone might be able to see you but you no longer care. You had noticed some of the other female guests were topless around the pool and guess that people are hardly likely to complain. 

Besides, you tell yourself, what you have to reveal is a lot more appealing than what you saw on display earlier. By now the sun has started to set over the lake and the colours are almost beyond describing. Multi-coloured parrots swoop and chatter in the trees as they prepare to roost. The temperature is starting to dip and your nipples crinkle and stiffen in the evening's cool breezes. Returning to the room a quick search of the refrigerator reveals a half bottle of rather good champagne. You banish all thoughts on how much you will be charged for it in a place like this and take it onto the patio with a glass. As you sip the wine and feel more of your workaday cares disappear like a weight slipping from your shoulders.

As full darkness descends with tropical suddenness the coolness drives you back indoors. You slide the door shut behind you, without locking it. Still topless you begin to unpack and start to get yourself organised. You pause to marvel at your eccentric choices when it came to packing. 

Journals to catch up on for work. 'Fat chance' you think. 

A travel iron? Your mother's idea. 'Almost certainly useless', you decide. 

Your mother had even suggested clothespins and a length of rope. 'For washing and hanging out 'your "smalls" dear' she had insisted. 

'At least six silk scarves,' you marvel to yourself. 'I must be as daft as my Mum. When will I wear even wear one?' 

You soon become bored with the task. You are on vacation you remind yourself and this is too much like work. You decide to unpack only what you need tonight and ask the hotel house-maids to do it tomorrow. You leave the bag unzipped and wander back to the balcony again.

Unpacking reminds you again of how Sally has let you down. Before she decided not to come she had taken you shopping for the holiday. She had taken you to her favourite lingerie shop and encouraged you to buy underwear the likes of which you had never seen. 

'You never know when you might get lucky.' She had joked. 

Now you look at the lacy garments that you had purchased and then packed, despite Sally's cancellation. Your spirit of daring continues as you decide to wear the lingerie anyway. Why should her last minute cancellation make any difference you tell yourself? Your mind made up, you hang the 'little black dress' you have chosen for this evening on the door knob, leave your new underwear on the bed, and head for the bathroom. 

The shower is hot and powerful and revitalises you as you scrub away the salt and sand of your trip to the beach. Without the usual pressures of rushing to get clean and get to work you take your time. The water splashing on your breasts feels amazing and again you feel your nipples stiffen, but not with cold this time. You revel in the sensuous feeling of the soapy sponge travelling over your body. 

You 'wash' your breasts slowly and then spend an age making sure your pussy is really clean. Very quickly you feel that familiar tingling between your thighs and the beginning of wetness that has nothing to do with the shower. Unbidden your mind conjures up images of the guys on the beach. Pictures flash behind your eyes. (Hard, muscular bodies, twisting and throwing themselves across the sand. Sun glistening on their sweaty, tanned bodies.) Your hand unconsciously moves faster between your legs. With an effort of will you drag your mind back from that erotic realm and shut off the water.

Returning to your room you quickly towel yourself dry. You begin to dress in the lingerie you had picked out. Black, lacy hold-up stockings go on first. Your knickers are also black and lacy. In addition they are tiny and flimsy, almost transparent. (The sales girl in the shop had coyly told you that, "They won't show through your clothes. You will look as if you aren't wearing any panties.")

The bra is not like your usual practical type. In matching lace to the knickers, it is cut low at the front, but also unnecessarily padded in subtle style, to push your breasts up and make them look even bigger. Your nipples are barely covered by the lace-trimmed cups. 

Pausing for a moment you study your image in the full-length mirrors on the wardrobe. You find it hard to imagine that the 'sex bomb' looking back at you is anyone that you know. Intoxicated with this vision you strike poses for the mirror. Trying to duplicate the models in 'girlie' mags that you had occasionally glimpsed in your brother's wardrobe. You cup your breasts with your hands and lean slightly forward as if offering them to a photographer or an unseen watcher. Turning round you bend over and wriggle your ass as you watch yourself between you widespread legs.

Soon the tinglings you felt in the shower return and this time you cannot ignore them. As you flop onto the bed you are distracted by what might be a noise, perhaps from the balcony. Your state of distraction and arousal quickly helps you convince yourself that it was just your imagination. 

Lying on the bed your hands begin to roam your body. You continue to imagine yourself as the photographer's model, moving on from 'cheesecake' shots to something a little harder. Raising your knees and spreading your legs one hand slips under the waistband of your knickers. The other pulls down the material of your bra and gently begins to coax a nipple into stiffness. 

Between your knees you notice that you can still watch yourself in the mirror. This adds to your horniness and soon your knickers are pulled to one side to allow easier access to your now very wet pussy. Your small, dainty fingers flutter between your swelling lips, occasionally delving into the wet depths of your sex. With the other hand you tweak your nipples, teasing them until they swell. 

The combination is even more arousing than usual and you can feel your juices running from your slit and trickling over your ass. This wetness allows you to slide two fingers inside your pussy as your thumb begins to work on your clit. Your climax rushes up on you completely unexpectedly. At home this would have taken much longer. Everything about your sexuality seems different in the tropics. Your orgasm hits with amazing intensity and you feel your pussy spasm around your fingers. You moan loudly as the aftershocks reverberate through your body.

As you lie, limp on the bed, bathing in the afterglow, you hear another noise, definitely from the balcony. Yours eyes fly open as you hear the unmistakable sound of the door sliding open. Stunned you watch as the guys from the beach saunter into the room, assuming a forced cockiness. So unexpected is their appearance that you cannot imagine how to react. The taller one is the first to speak. 

"You certainly look as if you could use a little male 'company' lady."

Springing to your feet you are at first too stunned to react. Several thoughts rush through your mind at once. Scream? Grab for the phone? Run? But something about the manner of the two guys makes you choose a different option. They don't look dangerous, more like schoolboys caught performing a dare. Perhaps it is also your newfound sense of confidence that helps you decide to brazen it out with them. With your fists clenched on your hips you demand, "Just what the hell do you think that you are doing here? How dare you walk in here uninvited!?"

The shorter of the two guys (Guy, you suddenly remember from the beach) has the good grace to look almost embarrassed and begins to explain. 

"Look we are really sorry lady. (Posh English accent you note.) It's just that we saw you on the beach and; you looked really nice and we just thought that,......well we thought we'd find out where you were staying and,......see if you,.....wanted to come out for a drink," he finishes in a rush. 

Trying not to show that you are a little flattered by this explanation you continue in your aggressive mode. 

"So why where you creeping about in the bushes, spying?" 

Guy continues to try and explain, looking more and more flustered. 

"We aren't allowed in the grounds of this hotel. They hate us unwashed 'backpacker' types trying to sneak into the bars or the pool. If security finds us we get thrown straight out. We had to be careful." 


Prisoner in Paradise Ch. 01



Slightly less angry you say, 

"So you followed me? Crept through the bushes and peered in my window to watch me undress and....and .......everything else?" you finish lamely, suddenly embarrassed. Your anger briefly flares again and you sneer, "Enjoy the show boys?"

You swear that you can almost see a blush creep across Guy's face before he looks down and mumbles, 

"We didn't really mean to watch. We just kinda.......couldn't help ourselves, could we Hugh?" he adds, turning to his friend. 

Previously silent the second man stares you straight in the eyes and says. 

"No, we couldn't help it." His accent is plainly British, but with a 'twang' from somewhere. South Africa? Australia? Then suddenly cheeky and grinning he continues. 

"By the way, yes, we did enjoy the show." Up till now their apparent contriteness had almost defused your anger and fear.

But this last remark fires you up again. You remember what you had been doing in front of the mirror and on the bed. (You picture them watching, excited, hard?) You almost splutter with anger, 

"So when you saw me playi...." (Quick re-think.) "When you saw me, you thought you would just waltz right in here and see if you could help did you?" 

No answer. 

"Did you expect me to just invite you both to join in?" Still no answer. 

"Is that it?" A vivid mental image tries to force it's way onto centre stage in your mind. (bodies tangled together on a bed. Hands roam your body.) You push the thought to one side to concentrate on the situation. 

You realise that you are almost enjoying what is going on. Dressed like a $1,000 a night whore you are facing down two strangers who have forced their way into your room, giving them a real telling off, and it seems to be working. Well at least it seems to be working with Guy. You are not so sure about Hugh. He has a 'lean and hungry' look.

As if to confirm your thoughts, Guy grabs Hugh's arm. 

"Come on man, the bitch don't want to know. Let's get out of here." Guy turns to leave, Hugh remains facing you. 

But your anger has reached a new pitch following this insult and you shout, stopping him in his tracks. 

"Bitch is it? You walk into my room and you are surprised that I get angry? That makes me a bitch does it? For all I know you could have been muggers or, .......rapists." 

A long silence fills the room. Another picture forms in your mind. (A naked form, ......pinned to the bed.......held down by strong hands, .... unable to resist. Struggling is futile. Surrender? Surrender!) Before you can rid your mind's eye of this vision your nipples stiffen, almost instantly. Something causes you to rush on. 

"Was that the plan then boys? If I didn't say yes you were going to make me?" 

You know this is not the case. Their explanations had been sincere enough to convince you and their now shamed faces are more proof, if you needed it. Despite this you continue. 

"Were you going to force me? You liked what you saw on the beach and you thought you would just come up here and have some of it did you?" 

The mental porno movie that has been playing in your head has now assumed the proportions of a major Hollywood production, 70mm and Dolby stereo Surround Sound. (a hard cock thrusting......yearning mouths......forbidden portals explored.....sweat and sighs.) If it were at all possible your nipples have hardened even further. In addition you can feel your pussy begin to moisten once again. What has come over you? 

Now your accusations have caused decisions to be made, and actions taken. Guy is leaving, almost running; out through the patio doors, no longer bothered if Hugh is with him. The other man remains rooted to the spot, no longer looking ashamed. He looks.......intent - and angry. You know that you could still make him go. It would be the simplest thing in the world. You are certain that just a kind appeal to common sense would do the trick. You feel yourself teetering on a knife-edge between possibilities. You know what you should do. (hard muscles clench to thrust.......deeper, harder. A dizzying climb...moans and gasps. Unbearable tension building...releasing.). Then you decide what you will do. 

"Perhaps you thought you would take some of those scarves out of my bag and tie me up? Then you could do anything you like to me. Couldn't you?" 

Hugh moves to your suitcase and picks up one of the scarves. Running it slowly through his hands he looks at you and comments, 

"Nice." You doubt he means the scarf. 

You gasp as he begins to move towards you. Before you can even think about moving he spins you around and begins tying your wrists behind your back. You realise that you should struggle but your pathetic attempts are useless. As he turns you back around his face is inches from yours, looking down at you. (his scent is in your nostrils, male, ....almost animal, exciting.) He is too strong for you. (Why does this feeling of helplessness turn you on so much?) You could struggle harder but you don't. He realises that your attempts are only half-hearted. This causes him to laugh gently as he grabs hold of you and pushes you onto the bed. 

Leaving you lying on the bed, still dressed in your 'hooker's' lingerie, he starts to riffle through your purse and finds your passport. Flicking through he laughs at your photo, then starts to read out the details. 

"Age 27, birth date -- June 16th, hair - brown, eyes -- blue, height 5' 10"." Reading your name he bows, "Hello Karen, let me formally introduce myself. I'm Hugh and I'm going to be your rapist this evening."



Prisoner in Paradise Ch. 02



Leaving you lying on the bed, still dressed in your 'hooker's' lingerie, he starts to riffle through your purse and finds your passport. Flicking through he laughs at your photo, then starts to read out the details. 

"Age 27, birth date -- June 16th, hair - brown, eyes -- blue, height 5' 10"." Reading your name he bows, "Hello Karen, let me formally introduce myself. I'm Hugh and I'm going to be your rapist this evening." 

Angered by this tasteless joke resistance flares up in you briefly. 

"Is this the only way you can get your kicks then? No-one says yes to you so you have to take what you want?" 

You can see these insults strike home like verbal slaps to the face, his male pride stung. 

"I think you need a lesson in manners sweetheart," he spits. 

Even angrier you shout. "Don't call me 'sweetheart'". 

His anger now matches yours. "I think I can call you anything I like actually. I think I'll just call you 'whore'. A whore who talks too much as well. Perhaps you need a gag?"

You can't stop the automatic response that springs to your lips. 

"If you gag me how will you be able to force me to suck your tiny dick you idiot? Besides the nearest other room is a long way away and no-one would hear anything over the air-conditioning. So I'm not going to scream."

Hugh approaches the bed, anger in his eyes once again from your latest insult. 

"Oh you're going to scream alright Karen," he says. "But you won't be screaming for help." 

With that he undoes his shorts and drops them to the floor, followed by his swimming trunks. You gasp when you see his half-erect cock. No wonder he was angry about your 'tiny dick' comment. His cock might have been called many things in the past but 'tiny' would certainly not have been one of them. 

"Time for you to get your gums around my plums," he says crudely.

Roughly grabbing your hair he pulls your head toward the edge of the bed. He thrusts his cock towards your face. It is becoming fully erect and even allowing for the close range at which you are viewing it seems to be about 8 inches long. ('Circumcised, just the way I like them!' you can't help thinking.) 

As his prick is jabbed at your face a drop of pre-cum is smeared across your cheek. As you continue to deny him access he pushes harder against your lips. Reaching down he almost casually takes hold of one stiff nipple, through the lace cup of your bra, and twists it savagely.

"Open wide bitch," he orders. 

His treatment of your tits sends electric shocks through your body, your nipples seem to be hot-wired to your clit. It is as if a current is flowing direct from your teats to your cunt. You feel another wave of excitement and wetness well up inside you. Another twist on your nipple brings a gasp of pain (or pleasure?) and as your lips part to emit the sound his prick is forced part-way into your mouth.

A threshold has been passed now, there will be no turning back. You have started this thing off, whilst convincing this guy that it is all his idea, but you have no concept of where your journey will end. You sigh with pleasure and relief that it has begun and open your mouth wide to accept Hugh's invading member. 

Soon he has half his length deep in your throat but is not satisfied with that. He begins to thrust and you nearly choke before relaxing enough to take him all the way. With your eyes closed you hear a strangled "Ffffuuuuckkk!!!" as you feel his balls bump against your chin. Your pleasure is increased as you realise you have drawn this signal of enjoyment from the man currently fucking your face. In order to intensify his satisfaction you try to swirl your tongue around the cock-meat in your mouth. A difficult task when it is so full.

Suddenly he withdraws his cock from your mouth and, taking another scarf, blindfolds you. This serves to make you feel even more helpless and, as a result, more turned on. He leaves you lying for what seems like hours. Each passing second heightens the tension as you wonder what will happen next. 

You jump when you feel a hand touch your ankle. The hand continues to slide up your stocking-clad leg. Your nerve endings are so hyper-sensitive that you twitch at his touch. It is as if being deprived of your sight has heightened your other senses. You feel goose bumps radiate across your body. The fingers continue their slow, inexorable ascent, over your stocking-tops to the bare flesh of your thigh. You almost scream with frustrated anticipation as the hand slows even further as it approaches your hot, moist centre. Then, after an agonising pause, you feel fingernails dragged lightly over the material covering your pussy. You moan, despite yourself.

This brings a laughing response. 

"You're so wet whore that your juices are soaking through your knickers! Did someone turn on a tap in your cunt?" 

With that you feel a finger start to probe your, pussy pushing through the material of your underwear. With another moan you thrust your hips forward to try and increase the penetration. This brings another excited laugh. 

"You just can't wait to have something up you." 

How true you think to yourself.

"We are going to have a lot of fun together Karen." Hugh continues in a low voice. 

Strange, under the circumstances, you find the voice and accent sexy, despite the menace in the words. (Because of the menace?)

"What I guess I really mean is that I'm going to have fun with you. Whether or not you enjoy it is up to you. I don't care." 

As you lie listening you become aware of how uncomfortable your position is. Your full weight is pressing down on your hands, bound behind your back. You squirm in an attempt to shift your position. This brings an angry response. 

"Keep still slut! From now on you move when I tell you, and only when I tell you. You'll be a hell of lot more uncomfortable before the night is out." 

His words send a tingle of fear through your body. (But perversely this fear feeds your excitement, fanning the flames of desire.) Still blindfolded you can only listen as he moves around the room, searching your bags. You feel something dropped on the bed.

Roughly the scarf is removed from your eyes and then forced between your teeth. The blindfold becomes a gag. Cruelly you are pulled into a sitting position and your bra-straps are pulled from your shoulders and tugged down. The garment ends up around your waist, exposing your breasts. He lets you flop limply back on the bed, crushing your bound hands once again. 

You watch in terrified fascination as your tormentor takes up the clothes line rope that he has discovered in his search and approaches you. Without words he ties the rope around your waist and then begins to bind your breasts in a series of tight and complicated coils. You feel the rope biting into your tender flesh as the bindings envelop your tits. The constrictions force your breasts to swell up. 

Despite the pain you are experiencing your nipples swell up as well. Soon you look like a bondage fetishist's wet-dream and Hugh stands back to admire his handiwork.

"Lovely!" he exclaims. "But I think it needs a finishing touch or two." 

With that he takes something from the bedside table. You notice that he has also found your clothes-pins. Your eyes go wide and you squeal vainly into the gag as you guess his intention.

The big man squeezes one peg open and leans down to, almost tenderly, attach it to your left nipple. Quickly he repeats the action with your other bud. The fact that your nipples have stiffened with excitement makes the task easier. The clothes-pins are new and the springs are tight. They clamp on your tender flesh and the pain radiates from your breasts throughout your body. Tears are forced from the corners of your eyes to run down your cheeks and soak into your gag. 

But, amazingly, behind the waves of pain comes floods of hot, tingling pleasure. Once again there seems to be a direct link from your nipples to your clitoris. They seem to throb in unison, pulsing like beacons of pleasure. You had never understood the appeal of 'S & M' so you are now amazed to find how much you enjoy something that had always seemed so perverted.

As your eyes open you see the naked attacker standing beside the bed, breathing heavily, cock hard and almost visibly throbbing. He is studying your helpless form with intensity. 

"You look like a whore and it is time to treat you like one" He says finally. 

With that he removes the gag from your mouth and moves his cock closer to your face, kneeling on the bed. Suddenly able to speak again you realise that you should protest, beg to be released. But all can you think about is your previous experience of this cock, how gorgeous it tasted. But by now you have fallen into your 'role'; as has he. So just for the sake of verisimilitude you begin to plead. 

"Please let me go Hugh!!! Don't hurt me, don't make me do this. I wont tell anyo....." 

Your words are cut short by a hard shaft of man-meat being rudely thrust into your mouth. 

Hugh is not gentle with you. When you start to gag he merely continues thrusting. He is fucking your mouth as if it were a big, wet cunt. With your hands tied you are unable to stop him. Your hands tied, your tits bound and tortured, your nipples clamped in clothes pins, a large cock pistoning between your lips and you are LOVING it!!! Part of your mind wanders, and wonders, what will happen to you later. 

It doesn't take long for him to reach his orgasm. You feel the invading cock swell in your mouth and as you look up you can see his face contort in the throes of a huge climax. Suddenly you feel the first spurt of spunk discharge across your tongue, so hot it seems to boil. You feel the cock continue to pump in your mouth, spewing what seems like gallons of jism deep into your throat. A half-gag causes a dollop of salty sperm to escape from your mouth, running down your chin to drip onto your tightly bound and aching breasts.

As the intensity of his orgasm fades he pulls his cock from your cum-filled mouth and disdainfully splashes the last of his seed across your face, hosing you with cum. He squeezes and shakes his deflating cock to ensure that you benefit from every last drop and drip.

4

After pausing for a moment to recover the man unwraps the rope from around your breasts, but leaves the pegs on your nipples. The circulation returning causes you excruciating pain and you close your eyes to prevent the tears flooding down your cheeks. When the throbbing pain recedes you open your eyes slowly. 

A blob of drying cum has glued your eyelashes shut, making your task slightly more difficult. When you can see again you notice that your clothes line rope has been cut into four pieces. Hugh grunts an order to you, 

"Stand on the bed." 

When you are slow to react he grabs your hair and drags you to your feet. Once you are standing on the bed you find it difficult to retain your balance. Seeing your dilemma he unties the scarf from your hands and then guides you to the end of the bed, facing the room. Standing on the bed behind you he roughly and efficiently raises your left hand and ties it to one support of your four-poster bed. Then the other hand is bound in the same way to the other post. 

Your arms are stretched so high and so far apart that you have to stand on tip-toes to keep the weight off your tightly bound wrists. He climbs off the bed and stands on the floor in front of you with an evil grin on his face. That grinning face is at the same level as your pussy. You know that he can see the juices from your pussy soaking through the gauzy material. As he grabs your ankle you suddenly realise what his intentions are and begin to protest; in vain.

Your left leg is tied to the bedpost, leaving you to bear all your weight on the toes of your right foot. That relief is short lived as this foot is rapidly tied to the other side. Climbing on the bed again he quickly blindfolds and gags you with two scarves. 

Now you are left suspended in a diagonal crucifix shape, stretched between the bedposts, your arms and legs wide spread. You are unable to see your tormentor or to speak to him, to plead for your release. The pain in your wrists is intense but bearable. What makes it bearable is that your feeling of total helplessness is producing an overwhelming feeling of arousal. 

This rising lust washes away all other sensations, emotions and feelings. This lust manifests it self as an increased wetness in your pussy. Your head lolls back as you wallow in this amazing new state you find yourself in. Your head snaps upright when you feel fingers grasping the material of your panties. You hear an unmistakable buzzing noise and realise that your vibrator has been found. (You wonder at how thorough the search of your luggage has been. You had thought the machine well hidden in the zipped pocket of your wash bag. How you had sweated when your bags went through the x-ray machine at the airport!)

You feel the shaking extremity of your 9 inch 'toy' touch down on various parts of your body. (When it connects with your clothes pegged nipples the feeling is so intense that you would have collapsed had you not been bound.) 

"Not getting enough Karen? Good thing I came along then wasn't it. Lets see how well it works." You hear him say. 

With that he pulls aside the crotch of your panties to expose your swollen, wet cunt. You feel the tip positioned against your yearning entrance. Then with a savage thrust and a twist, almost the entire length is forced into your pussy in one shove. The wetness of your slit provides no resistance to this intrusion. When only the end is protruding he twists it on to full speed and pushes in the last half inch. You feel him pull your panties back across to hold the vibrator in place. Straight away the vibrations begin to have their effect. Your face and breasts begin to flush with passion. You had not thought it possible but your pussy becomes even wetter.

From nearby you hear him whisper, "See you round." 

You wonder what this means, where is he going? Your excitement goes on building as the buried vibrator continues to agitate inside you. An orgasm is not far off. Faintly you hear the door of the refrigerator in the bathroom open, then the familiar sound of a beer can opening. Anxiety starts to flood your body. How long will you be left hanging here? 

With a gasp you remember that the batteries in the vibrator are brand new, you brought them at the airport. You paid extra for the long-life type you remember and moan as you try to calculate how long they will run for. Then a different kind of moan is torn from your throat as, unbidden, your muscles start to tense and your clit throbs. An orgasm crashes through your body like a wave against a cliff. The first of how many a tiny part of your mind is able to wonder. Normally one or two orgasms are enough for you, but nothing is normal about this situation. 

You are suspended between the posts of the bed, nipples agonisingly pinched by clothes-pins and a vibrator continuously humming in the depths of your wet cunt. The blindfold and gag only add to your exciting feeling of helplessness. To make matters worse (better?) you can hear and sense that your intruder has drawn up a chair in front of you and is watching with delight. The combined effect pushes you to a new plateau of excitement. Every nerve ending is super sensitive, twanging like a plucked guitar string. Every pleasure receptor is being over-loaded.

Your orgasms are now 'cumming' in a continuous succession of pleasurable spasms. Your muscles are contracting so much that you almost feel like you are having cramps. Your moans and sighs are muffled by the gag but nothing is capable of dimming your pleasure; at least initially. 

By the time you have lost count of the number of orgasms you have had, (at around 10) the pleasure starts to change into a strange torment. You are starting to feel that you cannot bear to cum again, but there is nothing you can do to stop the climaxes sweeping over you. You try to fight the feelings, to stop the waves of lust flowing through your body. But, perversely, struggling to postpone the inevitable only serves to compound your feelings, and increases the power of your orgasms. 

At this point you hear the intruder moving in the room. Then you see, around the edges of your blindfold, the bright light of a camera flash. Your heart leaps into your mouth as you realise that Hugh is taking photographs of you in your exposed, helpless and kinky position. You realise that he is probably using your own Polaroid camera, able to see the pictures within a few minutes of them being taken. You wonder how you must look, on film and in the flesh. You imagine yourself being able to look at the pictures later. This thought adds an extra impetus to your next orgasm, causing you to writhe pitifully in your bindings. 

Your body is now being racked by contractions, every muscle rippling with the sensations that are radiating through you. Sweat is pouring from your body. Your cunt juices are so copious that you can feel them running down your thighs. If your panties were not holding the vibrator in place, the combination of all that wetness and your clenching cunt muscles, would have been squeezed it from your pussy some time ago, like a wet piece of soap from a grasping hand. Now your moans have turned to pleas. You try to beg for this cruel torment to end, to stop the unbearably, beautiful pain. But your gag prevents you from being intelligible. Despite this you know that Hugh must realise what you want, but he simply continues to sit and watch. 

But eventually he takes pity, or grows bored. Whatever the reason you feel your knickers being pulled down. The still humming sex-toy squirts from your abused pussy, propelled by your still contracting muscles. It clatters onto the floor and the batteries fall out, finally causing it to stop. This further evidence of your wetness and excitement causes Hugh to laugh crudely. It causes you to blush hotly. 

Still laughing he starts to untie you, removing the gag and unclipping the clothes pins before lowering you to the bed. As you lie slumped there he stares down at your body. As you massage the circulation back into your wrists and ankles you begin to wonder again what is in store for you.

As if reading your mind he starts to talk. 

"Now you know what will happen to you if you don't do as you are told. Next time I will leave you tied up and coming so long that it will be agony. But there won't be a next time if you are 'good'. Do you understand?" 

Nodding your surrender you say, "Yes, I understand."

"Good". He says, smiling. 

"This is what you can do for me in order to be good. I want you to do a 'show' for me." 

Your look of blank incomprehension leads him to explain further. 

"I want an x-rated strip show darling. I want you to perform for me like a whore in an Amsterdam sex show. You are going to strip and play with yourself, for my pleasure, not yours." 

As he talks he has picked up your vibrator and re-inserted the batteries. 

"I want to watch you fuck yourself. If I give you an object you will stick it where I tell you." 

He illustrates his point with a few crude thrusts of the sex-toy. 

"If you don't do it properly then this", another thrust with the vibrator, "goes back in your slutty cunt and you come until it hurts. Got it?" 

You can only nod, this threat is enough to convince you. . So, with no alternative, you lever yourself off the bed, legs still a little shaky and stand in front of him. You start your show. Dancing to the music in your head you begin to gyrate in front of Hugh. You try to blot out the thoughts rushing through your mind, telling you to protest, to stop, to run. 

'I can't get away' you think in reply to these thoughts. 'He is too strong, too fast. I have to do what he says, what he is forcing me to do. I have no option.'




Prisoner in Paradise Ch. 02



Your rationalisation complete, you turn your ass towards him and bend at the waist and wiggle your tush at him. Slowly you lower your panties, gradually revealing your ass-hole and still moist pussy to his gaze. (You remember your pre-holiday bikini-line wax, and realise he is going to appreciate the' almost bald' look.) A groan of approval causes you to look over your shoulder at the man. You are amazed at the look of lust on his face.

Can this be the formerly prim and proper Karen who is producing this effect? (As well as producing a raging hard-on you can't help noticing, with interest.) Encouraged and aroused you move in front of him and start thrusting your pussy at his face from a range of several inches. As you dance you see the bottle of suntan lotion, where you dropped it after returning from the beach. 

In a moment of inspiration, remembering some 'naughty' film you once saw, you bend to pick it up. (Remembering also to point your ass where it will be most appreciated.) Flipping the lid you upend the bottle and squeeze the white liquid all over your breasts. You massage it in, as erotically as you can manage, making your nipples harden once again.

By now Hugh is stroking his cock as he watches you. The feeling that you are arousing him is a big turn on for you. Behaving so outrageously is such a liberating feeling. You peel your panties all the way down your stocking clad legs and step out of them. Picking them up you twirl them around your finger. ('Eat your heart out Gypsy Rose Lee.' You think to your self.) You thrust the crotch of your underwear into the face of the watching man. You know that the sodden material reeks of your excitement. You see his cock twitch and swell further with the added excitement.

Suddenly Hugh starts to issue orders. 

"On the bed bitch and spread your legs." 

Fully into your play acting you rush to obey. Without further instructions you open your legs and begin to stroke your tingling clitoris and finger your wet cunt. It is still tender and swollen from your earlier enforced orgasms but you carry on. 

"See how many fingers you can get up you, you tart," he says, voice hoarse with lust. 

You obey, stopping at four when it hurts too much. You obey again when you are told to suck your fingers clean, savouring the taste of your own cunt juices for the first time. By now you can see that Hugh is stroking his huge cock as he watches you. You see the pearl of pre-cum on the tip of his prick and all you want is to be allowed to taste it. 

A gruff order of, 'Talk dirty slut', breaks your concentration for a second. 

Uncomprehending all you can think to say is, 'Uh?'. 

Seeing your confusion he leads you. 

'You are a cum hungry slut Karen. What are you?' 

Catching on you groan, 'I'm a cum hungry slut.' Then in a moment of inspiration you add, 'Sir!' 

A low groan of satisfaction from Hugh tells you that you have done well. Needing no further guidance you continue. 

'I love the feeling of fingering my cunt whilst you watch! I can't wait until it is your cock instead Sir. Would you like that Hugh? Wanna fuck my wet cunt and fill me up with your spunk? It's really juicy and your cock would slide in so easily. But it's a bit tender and sore so perhaps you'll want to stick it somewhere else,' you suggest in another moment of inspiration. 

Some small part of your mind is amazed that you know these sort of words, as well as disgusted that you are capable of saying them. But the rest of you is turned on by talking like a cheap, street-walking whore.

With an evil look in his eyes Hugh passes you a bunch of grapes from the 'complimentary fruit bowl' provided by the hotel. You can guess his intentions but he orders you anyway. 

"I want to watch you insert them in your wet snatch, one at a time, until they are all gone." 

You begin plucking the grapes and inserting them into your sopping wet pussy. You poke them easily into your cunt with the tip of your finger. After about 2/3 of the bunch have disappeared you are starting to feel very excited, and very full. But aware of your instructions, and the likelihood of punishment if you fail, you continue until every grape is inside your vagina. 

Happy to have succeeded you are then dismayed when you are ordered, 

'Get off the bed and then get on all fours in front of me, and don't drop a single one or else!' 

Easier said than done you think as you carefully comply. Once you are on all fours it takes an incredible clenching of your pussy muscles to keep the grapes contained.

From behind you hear the vibrator start up once again. With a low moan of frustration you feel the tip buzzing against your asshole. 

'That's so unfair,' you wail, inside your head. 

The sensations in your ass are causing your pussy to get wetter and your pelvic muscles to twitch. You clench tighter with your pussy on the grapes but your task is becoming harder. Then you feel the vibrator being inserted further. You know you should relax but then you will lose your hold on the grapes. Your dilemma is solved when Hugh forces a couple of inches of the vibrator past your sphincter muscles. 

You feel an intense tearing pain that only passes when the motor in the vibrator is turned on. Suddenly pain and pleasure blur together and the humiliation of 'performing' to order adds an extra spice to this new experience. The whole sensation is overwhelming and you start to orgasm, totally losing control. The grapes spurt from your cunt as your muscles contract in your climax, shiny in their coating of your juices.

You hope, you pray, that you will not be punished for failing. But your hopes are dashed (dashed?) when your hands are wrenched behind your back and tightly bound. The gag soon follows and then you are dragged to the bathroom. Forced to your knees you feel the cold of the marble floor against your forehead. You begin to moan in anguish as you feel the vibrator forced the rest of the way into your ass. 

Without a word Hugh makes sure the toy it is buried deeply and securely. Then he pulls your panties back on over your legs and up over your ass, making sure it stays in place. As he stands and walks out he looks back at you and says, 

"See you in the morning." With a huge effort of will you wait until the door clicks shut behind you before you scream silently into your gag. 

5

At some point during the night you had finally managed to sleep, despite your uncomfortable position, bound on the cold bathroom floor. The vibrator in your ass had just kept on humming for hours and you had just kept on cumming. Perhaps rather than sleep you had fallen into orgasm induced unconsciousness. 

You had woken only once, when Hugh came into use the bathroom. Instead of using the bowl he had simply pissed all over you as you lay on the floor. Tied up as you were it was impossible to avoid the stream of urine he had directed all over your body, paying special attention to your face and hair. When he had finished you were temporarily thankful for the warmth provided by his 'Golden Shower'; the marble floor in the bathroom had been very cold. But as his piss dried on your body you felt even colder than before.

But now you can tell it is morning by the light seeping through the frosted glass window. Hugh walks in, naked, his cock half erect. Grabbing the scarf binding your hands he half drags you into the bedroom before removing your gag and dumping you face down on the bed. You start to beg and plead to be released but your only answer is a surprisingly gentle 

'Ssssshh'. 

You continue to whine but this time your answer is non-verbal, a stinging slap across your ass cheeks. You decide to be quiet. You feel yourself being manhandled into position, on all fours with your face squashed into the bed cover. Then your panties are tugged down and the vibrator is removed, with a lewd, wet noise. A probing finger, then two, are plunged into the depths of your ass, letting know that your stretched muscles have not recovered. Your ass hole must be gaping wide open.

'Tell me how much you want your ass-fucked!' is the almost inevitable order. 

For some reason you decide to stay quiet. Another hand slap on your ass check, then several more. Amazingly you find the tingling sensation enjoyable and stay silent long enough to be rewarded with a little more spanking. Then you acquiesce. (Do you give in because the spanking hurts? No. Do you just give in to the inevitable? Maybe. Do you give in because you want his prick in your ass?.......?)

'Please stick your big cock in my ass Hugh. It's wide open and waiting for you.' 

With difficulty you crane your head over your shoulder and see that your words are having their desired effect. Hugh's cock is fully erect and looking frighteningly large. As you turn away you decide to give him some final encouragement. 

'Fuck my ass lover, fill my dirt-box with your cum!'

You only have time to wonder how you have suddenly developed such a filthy mouth ('dirt-box'?) before you feel Hugh's cock head nudging against your ass. His fingers sink deep into your buttocks as he takes a firm grip; then slams the entire length of his prick into the depths of your bowels. It hurts, a little, and you scream, (more for effect really.) But you hate to think how much it would have hurt had not the vibrator been loosening your sphincter muscles. 

It seems like no time at all before you hear the man behind you groaning and quickening the pace of his thrusting. His balls are slapping against your moistening pussy with each stroke. A final thrust and an explosive 'Fffuuuuccck!' are the signal for a huge explosion. He is coming so hard that you can actually feel each pulse of his cock in your ass, pumping you full of sperm. With a drawn out and heartfelt sigh his meat is withdrawn from your ass and he collapses on the bed beside you.

Gradually he recovers and then unties your hands. You feel the pain of circulation returning to your hands, a feeling that is becoming oddly familiar. You watch, patiently, wondering what will happen next. (Feeling his sperm starting to trickle out of your ass you hope it will involve washing.) 

Hugh stands and takes a stack of Polaroid's from the bedside table and drops them on the quilt beside you. With a flush you realise that they must be the photos he had taken last night. You are unable to resist your desire to see them and start to sort through them. The images are outrageous! They show you bound and blindfolded, stretched between the posts of your bed. You can't see the vibrator in the photos but you remember the effect it had on you with a fond blush. (And a tingling feeling in your pussy.)

'Like them Karen?' Hugh asks. 

Before you are able to think of a sensible answer he asks another question, 

'Think your Mom might like to see them? Or your work-mates?' 

Confused you begin to stammer, 'W... wh...what are you talking about?' 

Hugh smirks and explains. 'In the back of your passport you have a section to fill in, you know, 'in case of emergency'. You put down your mother and your boss. I thought they might like to see your holiday snaps.' 

The idea is so shocking that you sit for a moment with your mouth opening and shutting like a goldfish. 

Finally you find your voice and shrilly ask, 'You can't be serious? You wouldn't really think of doing anything like that,' voice pleading, 'would you?' 

Laughing Hugh tells you, 'Actually I'd love to, just for a laugh. But I wont if you co-operate with my plan.' 

As you sit in a daze the man who has kept you as his sex toy all night explains. 

'Basically I'm going to move in with you for the rest of your holiday. You are going to be my 'wife' to anyone who wants to know. On top of that you are going to be my slave. Whatever I want, whenever I want, without question.' 

All you can do is numbly hang your head and shake it from side to side in horror at the idea that has been proposed. You feel detached, in another world, feeling as if this all happening to someone else. Taking the photos from your trembling hands he says, 

'In that case, I better go and buy some stamps.' 

This suggestion makes you pay attention. You shake your head more vigorously, looking at the man now, pleading with your eyes, 

'Pl....please, don't that.' 

Looking straight at you Hugh says, 

'What's it going to be girl? Yes, or no? You can have a lifetime of shame....', you shake your head, 'or a week of me?' 

You know that there is no real alternative. If he stays you might even get a chance to get the photos back. Then you can turn him over to hotel security and have him arrested. (But a little voice is whispering in your mind, 'let's have some fun first'.) So you nod in acquiescence. 

'I'll do what you want, if you give me the photos back at the end of the week.' 

He snorts, 'I don't think you are really in any position to bargain with me. But I'll think about it - if you are very good,' he mocks. 

'In the meantime don't look sad. Who knows you might even have fun.' 

He moves over to the phone and picks up the handset. Looking at you with the phone tucked to his shoulder he orders, 'Crawl over here and suck my knob whilst I order us some breakfast.'

You know that this crude suggestion is a test, 'has she really surrendered?' he is thinking to himself. If your plan is to work you will need to lull him into believing you are co-operating. So you get down on all fours and crawl across the floor. All you are wearing are your stockings and garter belt from the night before.

The terra-cotta floor ladders your hose even more as you make your way towards him. He watches your painful progress and you see his cock twitch and start to harden. As you reach the floor at his feet he starts talking to room service, 

'Yes this Room 5, can you send us two massive breakfasts.

(grabbing your hair he pulls your face into his cock. Your tongue flicks the tip. It tastes unusual, just having come out of your ass.)

.....lots of toast, marmalade and, you know......

(you take the head of his prick into your mouth.)

.....DAMN!.....no, no, sorry about that, I said 'jam'.....

(swallowing a couple more inches.)

......Oooohhhh Honey!!!!!!....yes that's right, honey please......

(reaching up to tickle his tightening scrotum)

.....NOOOO.... rush, take your time.'

Putting down the phone he looks down at your cock stuffed face and says, 

'I think we are going to get along fine Karen.'

A noise from the balcony causes Hugh to look up sharply and pull his prick from your mouth. Investigating he discovers that his companion from the previous night, Guy, is worriedly looking in through the window. Throwing open the sliding door he welcomes in his friend who can only stare at you open mouthed. You remain kneeling, suspecting what will be demanded of you. 

Hugh starts to explain, 'I've got her where I want her mate. I've got smutty pictures of her from last night and threatened to send them to her Mum!' 

Obviously enjoying his friend's look of slack jawed amazement he carries on excitedly. 

'I'm moving in here for the week. She's agreed to my slave for the entire time. Isn't that great?!' 

Guy finally gets his brain in gear and his mouth working.

'You are even more out of your mind than when you suggested we come in here in the first place. You are going to go to jail for, for, for......forever Hugh! You don't believe her do you?' 

Pissed off by his friend's doubts Hugh decides to demonstrate.

'Karen! Suck Guy's cock!' he orders.

You crawl over to where he stands and begin to undo his shorts. Embarrassed, Guy grabs at the waistband in a half-hearted attempt to stop you. But you know you have to keep Hugh happy so you persevere. (Besides you want to see his cock.) When you get his pants half way down you reveal a very respectable length. (Perhaps 7 inches fully erect you estimate. Already half way there you notice. Uncircumcised but still nice.) 

The head is already to starting to protrude from the foreskin and is dribbling a little. Taking his shaft in your hand you pump him to full erection. With a little squeeze you produce a nice blob of pre-cum which you lick up with the tip of your tongue, looking Guy straight in the eyes as you do. 

This produces a groan of excitement from the young Englishman, even before you take the head of his prick into your mouth and begin to swirl your tongue around it. (The little voice in your head is back, screaming at you to stop. But now you can force it into the background. 'I can't help it, I'm being forced to do these depraved things,' is your answer. 'No-one is forcing you to enjoy it, you whore!' says your conscience.)

Completely ignoring 'the voice' you concentrate only on sucking, making obscene slurping noises, slobbering all over Guy's cock. Your blowjob is obviously having the desired effect, on both men. Guy is groaning loudly and starting to thrust his meat into your willing mouth. 

Hugh is babbling excitedly, 'See what I mean?! She is a hot little bitch and she is 'gagging for it'. She loves it up the arse. You can fuck her anywhere, anyway you like,' 

Turning to look down at you, 'Can't he Karen? Tell him!' 

Withdrawing his cock from your mouth, (slightly peeved to have to stop sucking his by now throbbing meat,) you tell Guy what Hugh wants to hear. 

'You can fuck me how you like. Come in my mouth, I like the way you taste, (are you a vegetarian?), or on my face. My cunt is starting to get very wet but it would still be very tight. Or you could have my ass. Hugh gave me my first taste of anal sex this morning. My bottom is still full of his spunk so it would be a little sloppy, but take it if you want. Fuck my bum if you want.'

Obviously delighted by your performance, Hugh is clapping as you finish. 

'Marvellous Karen! Absolutely perfect! But since you are my slave I will decide.' 

Looking at his friend, 'Her arse is mine, for the time being. I'll let you fuck her cunt. On your back and spread your legs whore!' 

It is obvious that Hugh is getting right into this domination game, even playing it on his friend you think to yourself. ('But who am I to argue') 

Sitting down and laying back on the cold floor you splay your legs open. Guessing what is expected you open your pussy lips with two fingers, exposing your wet slit to the avid gaze of the two men. Guy doesn't need any second invitation.

In a flash he is on his knees between your thighs, his eager cock pressing against the swollen folds of your cunt. He is clumsy in his desperation. His cock head batters against your pubic mound a few times before finding the right angle. Then with a big thrust of his hips he attempts to bury his shaft in you with one heave. Fortunately all that cock sucking has got you very hot and wet. His meat slides into you with amazing ease, your pussy walls expanding to accept the invading member, your first 'straight' of the holiday. ('But probably not my last,' you guess.) 

Straight away Guy starts to 'jack-hammer' you, fucking you furiously. As different as this is to your previous preference for love making, slow and gentle, you still find it exciting. ('He is filled with lust for me! I never got a man this excited before.')

A low moan starts up in the back of your throat and you start to raise your hips to meet his thrusts. This is too much for the excitable Guy. 

He growls, 'You horny fucking sluuuuuuutttt!!' and comes with a grunt, collapsing onto your heaving tits. Frustrated you continue to writhe under him, trying to milk every last drop of pleasure, and sperm, from his deflating cock.

An unexpected knock on the door causes him to spring to his feet, suddenly scared. Hugh laughs at his reaction. 

'It's only room service Guy.' But he still looks nervous. 





Prisoner in Paradise Ch. 02



Continuing to laugh Hugh tells him, 

'You piss off back to our room at the Back Packers place. But if you want some more fun, be back here at 7.00 tonight.' 

Guy needs no more encouragement and leaves the way he came in, over the balcony railing. Hugh goes to answer the door. 'I only hope he gets rid of the waiter soon,' you think to yourself.

6

'Famous last words' you realise as Hugh ushers the waiter into the room, carrying the breakfast tray for him. The waiter is a young Thai man. His face is a picture when he catches sight of you, still on the floor with your legs spread. A blush rushes across your face as you realise that he can probably see the spunk leaking from your ass and cunt. 

The young man starts trying to leave immediately. But Hugh is holding him back, jabbering to him in a mixture of Thai and English. You catch the basic theme of the story. My 'wife' is very horny. She needs lots of cock. She always wanted a Thai cock etc etc. The waiter continues to protest, less convincingly with each glance he steals at you on the floor. The inducement that finally works is $100 waved in his face. ('From my purse no doubt.' You can't help thinking angrily.)

The waiter still looks nervous as he pulls his black trousers half way down. Hugh issues your orders. 

'Suck his prick and make sure he comes on your face.' You kneel up and pull down the man's underwear to expose a rigid Thai prick, ('small, but perfectly formed' you can't help thinking. His cock tastes lovely, clean and almost spicy.) His size makes it easy for you to start deep throating him almost straight away. This seems to be a new experience for him because you can tell that he is very quickly ready to come.

Remembering your instructions you pull your mouth away at the last possible moment, pointing his straining cock straight at your mouth, tongue out. His shaft expands in your pumping hand and then erupts. This guy's prick may be on the small side but he certainly makes up for it with spunk production. Spurt after spurt splash across your face, your tongue and into your hair. This guy is practically spray-painting your face with jism. 

You swallow the load in your mouth with a loud gulp. You can feel rivulets of cum running down your face and dripping onto your breasts. As his orgasm subsides you suck the last drops of sperm from his softening cock. 

'Does his sperm tastes good?' asks Hugh. You nod in answer. 'Finish it all up like a good girl then.' 

Before you can finish your spunk meal the waiter is suddenly panicky, pulling up his pants and fleeing, shirt un-tucked.

Hugh watches him leave, laughing out loud. Then he checks out the breakfast. He looks at you, with a glint in his eyes and a wicked smile on his lips. 

'Hungry?' he asks. 

In a short time you have learned a lot about this man and you realise, with a quick burst of fear (and excitement?) that he has some new torment in mind. With your stomach churning you wait to find out what he has in mind for you.

He takes the breakfast tray and sits at the table. Ignoring you he begins to butter the toast and spread it with jam before wolfing it down. You continue kneeling, unsure what to do. You have cum dribbling from every orifice yet you dare not make a move towards the bathroom. Your knees on the hard floor are starting to ache and your thighs are trembling with strain but you don't stand or change position. 

But most of all your stomach is churning with hunger (Remembering that you haven't eaten since you arrived yesterday.) but you don't think it would be a good idea to ask for food. As you ponder your predicament it dawns on you that you have surrendered your will to this man, after 12 hours of domination. In amazement you realise that you have stopped making choices, you have abdicated this right to him. You are seemingly prepared to await his decision, his instructions or orders, regarding even the simplest of questions. 

This realisation leads you to question your own motivation. You don't believe for a minute that Hugh would really harm you if you didn't obey him. You figure that, if you started laughing and told him that you had both had some fun, but now would you please leave; that he would probably go. But you don't laugh and you don't ask him to leave. You remain kneeling, a stranger's jism drying in a film across your cheeks and forehead until your gurgling stomach alerts Hugh to your predicament.

Looking up from the nearly completed meal he says, with a mocking note of apology in his voice,

'Oh dear Karen, haven't I been selfish and bad mannered, not offering you any of the breakfast. Here, have some toast.' 

With that he passes you the last piece, the crust end, unbuttered. ('At least he didn't drop it on the floor and make me eat it from there,' you think to yourself.) You tear into the bread as if it were manna from heaven. 

Watching you for a while Hugh wants to know, 'Would you like some fruit?' You nod eagerly in reply before remembering about your captor's strange use of fruit the night before. The smile he gives you as he passes over a banana is all the reminder you need. 

Obviously reading your expression correctly he says, 

'You guessed it Karen. In your cunt with that thing before you get to eat it.' 

You are more than hungry enough to agree with this order. Flopping onto your back you part your pussy lips with two fingers and force the banana in with the other hand. The remainder of Guy's spunk in your cunt ensures that it slides in nice and easily. Soon you have a good rhythm going and are managing to get most of the big fruit up your hole, fucking yourself hard with it, enjoying the feeling as well as the rapt attention of Hugh. 

Acting without orders you take the banana out and lick the yellow skin clean of it's coating of cum and cunt juice. You glow with pleasure when you are rewarded with a low groan and a big smile from the watching man. 

'Now peel it and do it again', is your next order. 

Thoughts of disobeying are becoming less and less frequent with each order. Soon you have the peeled fruit between your sex lips but after only few strokes it reduced to a mash of banana, sperm and your own pussy juices. Obviously satisfied with the effect Hugh tells you, 

'Now you can eat it.' 

Almost without a thought you start to scoop the mess out of your cunt with two fingers and eagerly swallow it down. 

Obviously turned on by the obscene sight that you present, Hugh has started stroking his cock under the breakfast table. 

'What a good slut you are Karen. I think I will reward you with a swim.'

With your eyes shut and half your hand up your pussy you imagine how nice it will be to get clean in the shower, put on your swim suit and go down to the beach. Reality crashes through your dream when you hear Hugh say, 

'Shall we go now?' 

His tone may be questioning but when you open your eyes and see the noose of rope in his hands you realise that you really don't have any option.

You realise that you are going to go now, just as you are. 

'Put on your 'lead' Karen,' 

he says quietly and you slip the noose around your neck. It is very loose and almost slips over your shoulders, more a token than a real leash. But is a sign of your submission, one that you are surprisingly willing to wear. He pulls on his shorts and takes up the end of the rope. With a gentle tug he leads you to the door. 

As he opens it you are dazzled by the harsh late morning sun. The light makes you aware of your situation. You are wearing only filthy, laddered stockings, sperm is drying across your face and in your hair. ('And urine' you think to yourself, 'Don't forget the piss') Squashed banana is matted into your trimmed pubic hair spunk is leaking from your ass and dripping from your pussy. You can feel the jism running down your legs and soaking into your stocking tops. 

You realise with amazement that is not just sperm that is leaking from your cunt. This humiliating situation is making you so wet that your cunt is positively flooding with juices, virtually flushing the cum out of you. Your excitement increases as you realise that Hugh is going to lead you right past the pool. Pre lunch it is busy around the pool. But the happy chatter falls silent as you are lead past, like a dog on a lead.

You keep your head high and try not to meet anyone's gaze but you know that they must be able to see the evidence of your sluttishness. Your nipples crinkle with excitement as if they wish to betray you further. 

Hugh stops walking and so do you. He has stopped in the middle of the busiest section of the outdoor restaurant. You drop your face and catch the eyes of the couple at the nearest table. Just at that time you feel a fat blob of spunk slide from your pussy and splash onto the concrete between your legs. As you catch the look of total disgust on the woman's face and then the lust in the man's face, you come; unexpectedly, powerfully and unmistakably. 

Without conscious command your hands reach up to grab your nipples, to twist them and squeeze them hard, adding to the intensity of your orgasm. A low groan rises in your throat. Hugh stands watching in awed amazement until the twitching of your climax passes, then tugging on the rope he leads on towards the beach. Your stunned audience turn as one to watch your progress, meals forgotten, conversations forgotten. You ignore every gaze as you continue your stately progress.

Once on the beach his mood changes. Removing the rope he starts to laugh. 

'That was amazing! You certainly left more boners back there beside the pool than those old farts have seen in a long time.' 

He is practically breathless with laughter. 

Suddenly bold you tell him, 'You will get us both arrested if you keep this up.' 

Still chuckling he shakes his head. 

'You don't understand this place at all. Only the really rich can afford this place and the rich can afford to be eccentric. They come here so as not to be disturbed, they don't want any hassle. They are nearly all German and they sun-bake topless or nude by the pool and wife-swap at night, after a few too many glasses of wine. Which of them is going to make a complaint? You just watch, nothing will happen. Anyway, we came here to swim, not to argue. Get out of those ludicrous stockings and let's go.' 

With that he strips of his shorts. With more difficulty you get out of your garter belt and the ruins of your stockings and follow.

Diving into the water has the same magical effect that it had last time. (Casting your mind back you remember that it was only yesterday. It seems like years ago, another lifetime.) Beyond the gently breaking waves you can see the big Australian guy effortlessly carving the water. You set about cleaning yourself, scrubbing the sperm from your skin with handfuls of sand until your skin tingles invigoratingly.

Then you wash your various body cavities, the salt water causing pleasant aches. It also reminds of your recent activities and in retrospect you think only of the pleasure you have taken in them. You have no time to be amazed at how quickly you have adapted to your sex slave role. Suddenly your feet are swept away from under you and you are unceremoniously dunked beneath the azure water.

As you come up spluttering you find yourself face to face with Hugh's grinning face. His blue eyes are twinkling with high spirits, mischief and lust. He starts to cover your face with passionate kisses as he crushes you to his chest. You respond, urgently, plunging your tongue into his mouth, tasting the salt. You moan gently as he tilts his head to take an engorged nipple into his mouth, then the other. 

Then he takes a gulp of air before ducking under water. Immediately you feel his tongue lapping at your pussy lips and clitoris. ('Underwater cunnilingus' you marvel to yourself, 'whatever next?') When he surfaces with a gasp you wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. Despite the refreshing coolness of the water you can feel his erection growing and pulsing beneath you. Clasping your hips he pulls you down onto his hardness. 

Despite the effects of the sea water you are more than wet enough to take him. He thrusts into you almost brutally, matching your need. You feel his teeth grip the muscle between your neck and shoulder as if to keep a grip. In a parody of some savage sea creatures mating, he drives his member into your very core. Wrapped around him as he stands waist deep in the sea you twine your fingers in his thick hair, pulling him closer as you feel your climax build.

The small waves slapping against your back seem to be urging you on. The elemental sea is participating in your lovemaking. As if sensing your urgency Hugh begins to pound you harder. Simultaneously you both come, a united flood of warmth, semen and secretions mingle in your pussy. You cling together in the moment after until his legs buckle, submerging you both in the welcoming brine.

When you make your way to the shore, both laughing and out of breath, you rinse under the shower on the beach and collapse into sun lounges. Catching the attention of a waiter he orders lunch for you, occasionally glancing at you to check his choices. 

Gradually you start to chat, like new lovers, as if everything that has happened in the past 12 hours has happened to someone else. (The only reminder is the trickle of people walking down from the pool to check out the beach. 'Word has obviously got around' you think. But you ignore them as they try to look without seeming to be actually looking.) 

When the food arrives you fall on it ravenously. It is all delicious. Despite having had breakfast Hugh tucks in again. 

'Gotta keep my strength up' he says, winking, making you laugh. 

Then he signs the bill to 'your' room, showing them 'your' key as ID.

The food finished he tells you about his rootless travelling around the world. You tell him about your life and especially how Sally has let you down by pulling out of the holiday.

When you get to the end of your tale of woe you are gratified to hear him grunt, 

'Bitch! Deserves to be taught a lesson in manners it seems to me.' 

After a while he stands and pulls on his shorts. 'Time to go,' he says. (Is there regret in his voice?) 

'Just leave the stockings.' 

He takes up the rope and then lays it on the sand at your feet, keeping eye contact with you all the time. A silence hangs in the air. You stoop and pick up the rope, holding his gaze. He starts to say, 'You don't hav......' 

7

Your finger on his lips silences him. As you slip the 'lead' over your head you tell him, 

'It's easier this way Hugh.' 

You watch his face until you see his understanding and acceptance before setting off up the path, back to the room.

The path takes you past the other guests yet again. There seem to be even more people before, all staring. You ignore their looks but walk slowly, almost strutting. Somehow, despite the rope around your neck, you feel more beautiful and desirable than at any time in your life. Hugh follows after you, holding the end of your lead. As you reach the stairs to your room you hear footsteps behind you.

You both turn to see the guest who had stared at you on the way to the beach, out of breath from running to catch up. When he has caught his breath he asks Hugh, 

'Spreken zeDuetsch?' 

Hugh's 'Ja' and nod is the prelude for a lengthy conversation in German, of which you understand nothing. Despite talking to Hugh the man from pool cannot take his eyes of your nakedness. His tongue is practically hanging out but you just stand there submissively, because you have not been told to do anything else. You catch the sense, mainly from body language and intonation, that the German seems to be pleading with Hugh. Finally Hugh appears to nod and acquiesce.

With a look at his watch and a final voracious stare at your body he turns and retreats up the path. As Hugh unlocks the room you are bold enough to ask, 

'What was that all about?' 

With an evil chuckle he only answers, 'You'll find out soon enough.'

Once inside you stand in the middle of the room, awaiting orders. Hugh hunts around the room, whistling happily. You notice him picking up the discarded ropes and your vibrator. He passes you your bikini bottoms and wordlessly gestures for you to put them on. Then he guides you to the bed and pushes you, gently, onto your back on the coverlet. Swiftly, efficiently, mercilessly your wrists and ankles are bound to the bedposts, spread-eagling you, defenceless.

He stands over you, examining his handiwork. You can see his penis tenting the front of his shorts and hear his breathing quickening. These signs of his arousal, added to your helplessness, have a remarkable effect on you. Your nipples tingle and stiffen and your pussy goes from 0 to 60mph in the space of one breath. Your vagina feels as if it flooding and you are sure that a wet patch has already appeared on your swimming costume.

Hugh takes up the vibrator and looks at you some more before asking, 

'Arse or cunt?' 

In a husky voice you answer, 

'Ass please, if that's would you'd like.........Sir.' 

A sharp intake of breath indicates that your last word has had it's desired effect. Pulling aside your soaking bikini pants he moistens the tip of the toy in juices dripping from your cunt. Placing the point against your tight anus he waits until you look him in the eyes before skewering in the first few inches. You grunt in agony as the plastic prick rips through your sphincter muscles. Then you relax as the pain is replaced by pleasure, allowing the rest of the vibrator to penetrate your ass. 

Without turning on the toy picks up some of your scarves and looks at you questioningly. Reading his mind you say, 

'Oh yes, I think I should be blindfolded and gagged Sir. Imagine how helpless I will look.'

('Imagine how helpless I will feel,' you think to yourself, writhing with desire at the mental image you have created.) Without another word the scarves are tied around your eyes and mouth.

Unable to see you wonder what he is up to as he moves around the room. Can your imaginings be worse than what he has in mind. You feel him sit beside you on the bed, then you feel a cool salve on your stiff nipples. But it remains cool only for a second. Just as the familiar smell reaches your nostrils the muscle linament starts to burn. The feeling makes you twist on the bed, futilely trying to get away from the heat.

When he pulls aside your bikini pants you wish that you weren't gagged so that the scream of 'NNNNOOOOOO!!!!' could escape from your throat. As the burning in your nipples increases you feel the cream being slathered all over your pussy lips and clit. Before pulling your panties back into place he turns on the vibrator buried deep in your ass.

By the time he returns from washing his hands in the bathroom all the pain, the heat, the vibrations have combined to turn your entire body into a bundle of pre-orgasmic nerve endings. Your body is thrashing on the bed like a fish out of water, sweat beading every pore, your moans are muffled by the gag. 

As a final sadistic touch you feel the familiar bite of the clothes peg go back onto your left nipple. Then you feel his breath against your neck, his voice in your ear, 

'I'm off to do a little shopping, see you in a few hours honey.' 

As a full stop to his sentence he clamps another peg to your right nipple. This, combined with his words, triggers a massive orgasm. Screaming, moaning, sobbing and coming continuously you don't even hear the door close behind him.

The period between his departure and return become a blur. Pain blurring into pleasure. Pleasure blurring into the ecstasy of a continuous orgasm. An orgasm that shakes your body like a never ending earthquake. After some time (hours?) the heat from the cream starts to wear off. After some time (days?) you can longer feel the pegs on your nipples. After some time (weeks?) the batteries in the vibrator up your ass run down. Your only reaction is to moan in frustration and clamp your anal muscles on the inert plastic, trying to milk the last dregs of pleasure from your torment.




Prisoner in Paradise Ch. 02



When the door opens you hear a cheery, 'Hi honey, I'm home,' 

As if he was walking onto the set of a cheesy 60's sit-com. He finds you limp in your bindings, soaked in sweat and stewed in your own juices. Gently he removes the blindfold with one hand (the other is holding some bags and a box) and stares down at you, grinning, 

'Did you miss me darling?' 

Still in 'Leave it to Beaver' mode he asks, 

'What's for dinner?' Looking around as if searching for the kitchen stove, 

'Haven't started yet? Never mind. You just forget about cooking for tonight sweetheart. I'm going to take you out for a swell dinner.' 

With that he places what he has been carrying on the table and heads for the bathroom. You hear the bath taps running when he comes back and unties you. 

'I want you to get all clean and then pretty yourself up. We're going out tonight.

With that he gently pulls off your panties and removes the spent vibrator from your abused ass hole. Suddenly serious he looks at you and gasps, 

'God Almighty! You're bum is so wide open I think I could get my hand in there.' 

Seeing you flinch away in fear brings him back to a modicum of normalcy. 

'Don't worry pet, not on the agenda.' Seeing you slightly reassured he then has to add, 'Yet.'

Laughing at your expression he helps you to your feet, your legs wobbly, and leads to the bathroom. On the way your eyes catch the box and you feel compelled to ask, 

'What's in the box?' 

More laughter ensues and he merely says, 

'Curiosity killed the cat sweetie. You'll have to wait till after dinner to find out. I like surprises and I think you will too.'

Once in the bathroom his playful mood continues. He climbs into the huge, sybaritic, luxurious, steaming bubble bath with you and washes your hair for you. The scalp massage he gives you makes every muscle go as limp as over-cooked pasta. You revel in the feeling of getting really clean after so long. 

After a few minutes he climbs out and rinses off under the shower, bellowing as he turns the water to cold for a final burst. You watch him, unconcerned in his nakedness, admiring the firm muscles in his thighs and arms. Despite yourself you enjoy the sight, especially the contrast off his tanned back with the whiteness of his hard buttocks. Tearing your eyes away you sink beneath the water and wash between your legs just a little harder than necessary.

When you surface he is no longer in the bathroom and you hear his voice from outside, 

'Hurry up and finish Karen. Don't want to be late for dinner, I've made a reservation.' 

You do as you are told and walk out swathed in a towel. Hugh has obviously been back to his own hostel and gathered some of his clothing. You realise that these clothes are probably his 'best' but they are still scruffy, irretrievably wrinkled and do not appear to be completely clean.

You bite your tongue on the comments you feel like making. You instinctively know that, by his standards, he has probably made a big effort and would probably be crushed if you said what you think. Your eyes catch the clothing laid out on the bed. 

He explains, his gaze intent, 'I thought I'd speed things up by picking out some things for you.' 

As you see the selection your heart starts to beat a little faster. 

'Put them on,' he says in a voice that brooks no argument. 

Knowing that protest is futile you sit on the edge of the bed and roll the white lacy stocking up over your feet. 

'Hold ups' you think, to your relief, as you put on the selected skirt. It is really more of a beach sarong, very sheer and split to the waist. Any garter belt would have shown through completely. 

As you pick up the blouse you realise that showing off your garter would have been the least of your worries. Again he has chosen something white. Not just sheer this time, but transparent. No sign of the lovely silk camisole that you had purchased to go under it, to ensure decency. No point in asking for it either you realise. As pointless as asking about panties probably. 

You slip on some strappy white sandals and pose in front of the mirror, one foot forward to examine yourself. Your first thought is that you may as well be naked. One leg protrudes from the split in the skirt, exposed to your stocking top and beyond. You may as well be topless for all the blouse conceals. You look like a different woman, nothing like the old Karen. The effect of this image is immediate and surprising.

Your nipples harden and your pussy starts to moisten.

Hugh stands behind you and his breath on your neck causes goose bumps and more wetness between your legs. Guiding you to the dressing table he pushes you into the chair and simply commands, 'Make-up'. He rests his hand on your shoulder and watches in the mirror, making suggestions. At his insistence you use the brightest colours and in greater quantities than you have ever dared before.

You can sense his intention. He obviously wants 'tart' make-up and you give it to him. Lots of dark mascara and eye-liner. You paint your lips with the reddest lipstick you can find. Examining the look you add more. Thinking off Courtney Love you smear it round the edges of your mouth. The sharp intake of breath from behind you and the tightening of his hand on your shoulder tells you that you have done well. In a moment of inspiration you open the blouse and colour your very swollen red nipples even brighter with the lipstick.

Hugh seemingly can wait no longer. 

'Come Karen, time to go. I have made a booking in the hotel's best restaurant for us. It is very busy, totally booked out. I had to bribe the headwaiter AND the General Manager to get us a table. Nearest the dance floor of course. Only the best for you darling.' 

As you turn from the mirror he takes up the lipstick. 

'Just one finishing touch I think.' With that he applies the lipstick to your forehead, making a few strokes. Dropping it on the bed he steps back to examine you. 

'Perfect!' is the verdict, 'Let us depart.' 

But as you do he steers you so that you cannot look in the mirror near the door. Your head is jumbled with too many thoughts for anything to come out coherently. All you do know is that you do not feel very hungry.

He takes your arm and places it under his. You walk through the gardened paths to the main part of the hotel, for all the world like a perfectly 'normal' couple. Other guests are headed in the same direction and you are thankful that the dark hides your appearance. You feel your rouged nipples crinkle in the cool evening air. You are aware that every step you take in your slit skirt exposes your leg, right up to the groin. The feeling of cool breezes wafting over your knickerless pussy is strangely exciting. It makes you wonder why you had never gone out without panties before now.

All hope of escaping notice evaporates as you reach the entrance to the restaurant. The foyer is all marble, chrome and mirrors as well as being very brightly lit. The head waiter looks up from his lectern as you both approach. He does a quick double take before approaching and shaking Hugh's hand, greeting him like the very best of customers returning after a long absence. He does a near perfect job of pretending that nothing is out of the ordinary. Only the occasional hungry glances, from the corner of his eye, betray his interest. You catch sight of yourself in a mirror and immediately understand his attention. 

Back-lit by small spotlights you see that such clothing as you have on has become virtually transparent. You may as well be standing there naked. You cannot understand why the dinner-suited flunky is not more curious about your clothes, or lack of them. Frustratingly you are not close enough to the mirror to see what is written on your forehead. 

As you wait for the waiter to grab two menus, a fat, porcine European man comes into the vestibule with a tiny Thai girl on his arm. His eyes bug out as if on stalks when he catches sight of you, making his resemblance to a pig all the more apparent. He makes a noise that can only be described as a snort, a snort of lust. The girl, obviously a local prostitute, tugs on his arm in admonishment. His reaction is to raise his other hand as if to strike her. Hugh watches the tiny woman cringe back in fear. He looks the corpulent tourist up and down, disgust on his face, before taking your hand and leading you after the waiter. You can feel 'Mr Piggie's' eyes burning into your back like lasers as you walk away.

Quickly you are ushered into the huge restaurant. The place is like an indoor jungle. The ceiling is glass and many feet above. Vines tumble from hanging baskets. A huge airy cage contains a myriad of colourful tropical birds, squawking as they begin to roost. You notice 20 foot tall palm trees are growing inside the room. You also can't help notice the conversation drop to nothing as you walk in. The same reaction as at the pool is evident. The men unable to do anything except stare, the women offended, sneering, trying vainly to regain the attention of their partners.

One woman does look at you differently. You see this woman, about 30 years old, sitting alone. She is attractive, bespectacled, short dark hair. She is not looking at you with contempt but her actual feelings are harder to read. You lock eyes for a few seconds as Hugh continues to lead you towards your table.

You have never been the centre of attention before. You find the feeling intoxicating, regardless of the bizarre circumstances. Your table is in the middle of the room and beside the dance floor. The waiter pulls out a chair for you and you sit. As you do, your split skirt falls open and you just know that the waiter has a perfect view of your neatly trimmed bush. You make no move to regain your modesty, a reaction that surprises you even more than it does the waiter. 

Looking up you notice that Hugh, waiting like a gentleman for you to be seated, has seen the whole event. His smile and nod of approval cause you to lower your face and blush with pleasure. You marvel at how quickly his approval has become important to you. Then you try to drive those thoughts from your mind. This is your best chance to escape. Someone must ask about your outrageous garb, your shocking make-up. Then you will have a chance to unmask Hugh as a blackmailer, holding you against your will, forcing you into depraved acts. Someone must ask, surely?

But no one does.

The house band, 4 Thai men in velour tuxedos and a Eurasian girl in a cocktail dress take the stage, having missed the excitement of your entrance. They launch into some schmaltzy 'lounge act' numbers as the waiter comes to take your order. Hugh orders for the both of you, again without asking your preferences. You can't hear what he is saying as the band is a little loud. 

('I met him on a Sunday and my heart stood still, the doo lon lon lon, the doo lon lon.') 

When your prawn, sea grass and ginger soup arrives, another man accompanies the waiter. His 'uniform' dinner suit does nothing to conceal his authority. He has an air about him that says 'important'. 

'Someone has complained,' you think,' and this is obviously someone from the management. This is my chance to escape. Surely they will have checked the register and found out that only one person checked into your room.' 

These thoughts produce such a confusing welter of emotions. ('What will I say if he asks me about Hugh?') You hardly dare to breathe as he walks up behind Hugh, claps his hand on his shoulder and says................................................ ....................................................................................................................................................................................................... 'Good evening Mr Hugh. Is the table to your satisfaction?' The breath goes out of you in a long sigh. Is everyone in this hotel in on Hugh's evil plan? As you watch Hugh stand and pump the newcomer's hand, you realise that any chance to reveal the truth has probably passed. 

Hugh makes introductions. 

'Darling this is Gunter, the General Manager. He helped 'organise' this table for us at such short notice.' 

Turning his attention to you for the first time Gunter picks up your trembling hand. 

'You must be Karen, ja?' 

His eyes quickly glance at your forehead and, after pressing your fingers to his lips he asks, 

'Is everything to YOUR satisfaction madam?' 

His English is almost accentless, but you can hear the extra emphasis he is placing on his words. You realise that he is not asking about the soup. His question is reinforced by the quizzical look, a hint of concern in his eyes. You realise that this is the chance you think you have been looking for. A silence descends. The band, who had been murdering Frank Sinatra, 

('Start spleding the news, I'm reaving today.')

fades out. Hugh's mouth opens and shuts, but you hear nothing. The only thing that exists in that instant is Gunter. You know that if you asked him, asked him right now, for help - then he would help you, help you escape.

An eternity passes in a second. You draw what seems to be your first breath in a decade before you whisper, 

'Everything is fine Gunter, just.....perfect!' 

He gently releases your hand and steps back, smiling, relieved and pleased. 

'I am very gratified to hear that. I shall leave you to enjoy your meal in that case.' 

Hugh rises and intercepts him, beginning an intense conversation just out of your hearing. Whilst they are distracted, you take up a knife and try to use it as a mirror to read what is written on your forehead. It is still impossible to make out. The men finish their conversation and Gunter half bows to you, a new, unfathomable expression in his eyes, before leaving. 

Hugh resumes his seat, bubbling with barely suppressed excitement. The question in your eyes is ignored. Hugh will only venture, 

'What a lovely man. Swiss you know? All the best hoteliers are.' 

Looking at your plate he notices that you haven't touched your soup. 

'Not hungry darling?' 

Suddenly you realise that you are and pick up your spoon.

When the soup is finished Hugh looks up and asks, in a matter of fact voice, 

'Karen? I want you to get under the table and suck my cock?' 

Having given up your gilt edged 'Get Out of Jail Free' card only a minute ago you see no reason to quibble now. Ignoring the stares of the people at nearby tables you duck your head and disappear under the tablecloth. Hugh's cock is already unzipped and throbbing. 

'No time for niceties,' you decide and attempt to swallow his shaft in one gulp. You only have time for a few strokes before you feel his hips thrust forward, banging your head on the underside of the table. His prick expands in your throat and then starts to gush like an open fire hydrant. Swiftly your mouth is full of hot, salty spunk. You swallow as much as you can as his penis deflates between your lips. 

As gracefully as possible you crawl out and resume your seat; just as the waiter arrives with the main course. In horror you realise that a trickle of sperm is running down your chin. You hope the man arriving with the plates won't notice. Fat chance! 

'I hope you will find sperm is an excellent sauce to go with the swordfish,' 

Hugh says, loud enough for the waiter, and surrounding tables to hear. Then he leans across the table. With a finger tip he wipes up the dribble of jism and offers it to your mouth. As the waiter watches in amazement you suck his digit clean. This public humiliation, combined with the extra morsel of his seed, makes you shiver with delight.

You look around to gauge the response of those at the nearest tables. Once again you catch the gaze of the woman sitting alone. She has a dreamy look in her eyes. Still staring straight at you she dips her finger into the mayonnaise on her table and licks it clean. Stunned you turn back to your food.

Half way through the meal Hugh produces a small, badly wrapped parcel from his pocket. Almost abashed he passes it to you. 

'Here, for you, a present. The first treat from the 'goodie box' I bought you today.' 

You start to unwrap it, but he stops you. 

'First, tell me if you're wet.' 

At your look of temporary incomprehension he asks, in a louder voice, 'Is your cunt wet?' 

Ignoring the swivelling heads at nearby tables you slip your hand between your thighs. One probing finger proves what you had suspected, a hidden spring of juices virtually bubbling between your labia. You nod in answer to his question.

'Good. Open the present' is his response.

The wrapping peels away to reveal what you blushingly recognise as 'Ben Wah' balls. 

Hugh asks, 

'Do you know what they are?' 

Again you can only nod in answer. 

'Good! Insert them.' 

Only for a moment do you consider asking if you can go to the ladies. Knowing such a request would be denied you shift your bottom forward in the chair and spread your legs. Your gift is two large balls, joined by a short length of cord. You press the first ovoid against your moist slit and press it home. It squeezes inside your vagina quite easily, assisted by your wetness. The second one is a little more difficult but eventually you work it inside, giving a little grunt as it slips in. 

As you straighten up and look around you realise that every pair of eyes within range is staring straight at you. Ignoring their gaze you take up your knife and fork to finish your meal. The feeling of fullness in your cunt is sensational and you can't help jittering about in your seat as your arousal grows.

After a few glasses of wine you feel the need to go to the bathroom. Permission is granted and you stand to make your way to the ladies. The band notice you for the first time and completely lose the plot. The electric organ produces a noise like a fart and the bass guitarists stops playing all together. The girl singer does her best to carry on

('Come fry with me, we'll fry away.') 

After only a few steps the devilish effect of the balls becomes apparent. Rolling together inside your pussy they push you straight into lust overload. Almost immediately you find it as easy to walk a straight line as you would to roller-skate on an ice rink. By the time you reach the ladies your pussy juices are running down your thighs and soaking into your stocking-tops.

In the powder room you stop for a second to finally have a close look in the mirror. Even in reverse the word on your forehead is easy to read, as easy to read as it has been for every one who has looked at you tonight. In bright red lipstick is the word 'SLUT'. 

For a second you debate wiping it off. Then you realise that your clothes and behaviour tonight have made this sign totally redundant. You have become a slut and now you don't care who knows. Completing your mission you return to the restaurant, the word still in place, emblazoned like a badge of pride.

Hugh is waiting for you outside the door. He looks at your forehead and again you are thrilled to see his smile of approval. Taking your arm he says, 'Let's dance.' The band has slipped into some 'slow' numbers. 

('Cly me a liver, I clied a liver over you.') 

But Hugh pays little attention to the rhythm or the beat. With his hard cock pressed against you he simply concentrates on moving your hips to set the love balls in motion. Within only a few moments you are coming, clutching him as you moan and whimper, biting his shoulder to muffle the screams that are building in your throat. Before this holiday your orgasms had been solitary, well spaced events. Since Hugh 'captured' you it seems that you have suddenly discovered the ability to orgasm continuously. 

You feel, rather than see, someone pat Hugh on the shoulder, asking permission to 'cut in'. With an evil smile at you he steps aside and lets the interloper take over. Suddenly you are swept into the grasp of a stranger and a different cock is being pressed against your groin. Before you can protest a couple of waltz steps set the balls moving in your pussy and you are overwhelmed by another flood of climaxes. All you can do is pull the stranger to your chest, grinding your spasming cunt against the hard bulge in his trousers to boost the effects of your climaxes.




Prisoner in Paradise Ch. 02



A bizarre procession now begins. Hugh takes every second dance but gives way to any man who asks. The only one refused is 'Mr Piggy' from the entrance lobby. And with each partner you come, over and over. 

During one of your dances with Hugh you see the woman you noticed earlier approach. She looks almost mannish in crisp linen black pants and a white tailored shirt. Yet, she sways as she walks in an unmistakable female way. Over the music (noise?) of the band you hear her say to Hugh., 

"I noticed that you were allowing dances with your slut....Would I be able to ask for one?"

Hugh releases you and turns to the woman with a wide grin. 

'I think that would be delightfully amusing' he says. 

He places your hand in the palm of this new stranger and bows to you both with an elaborate flourish of the arm. 

Stepping back, still bowed over he says only, 'Enjoy!'

She steps forward and takes you into her arms...there is no throbbing cock now, but there is an unmistakable heat, as you move her hips grind against yours, sending tingles up your spine. Out of reflex, perhaps, you draw her closer, and soon your breast are rubbing against hers, your nipples and hers hardening with each step. You cease to care that you are half naked dancing a lewd dance with a strange woman in a crowded restaurant. You catch the eye of the bass player in the band ...he is drooling. 

The warm sensation in the nether regions is growing, and you realise with rather a shock, that you are contributing to it as much as she is. Still hot and wet from the numerous orgasms you've already had, another building as she runs her hands up and down your ass cheeks. She grazes her nails along your back, and you arch backwards instinctively...she leans down and kisses your neck, small little nibbles along the curve of your jaw. You wiggle a bit from the sensation, and she pulls back just enough that only the tip of your nipples touch, with her hands resting lightly on your hips. 

Your hands are still on her shoulders when you feel Hugh touch her arm. She pulls away quickly, and says to him. 

"Thank you...your slave is wonderful...I hope you enjoyed our dance."

"Quite," he responds, "Perhaps you would care to join me and my Karen for a while, later on this evening."

She looks deep into your eyes, so deep that you find yourself blushing. Despite your embarrassment you find yourself unable to look away. Un-consciously the tip of your tongue runs nervously around your lips. 

'My lord! I've never been looked at by another woman in this way!' You think to yourself. 'Why is it affecting me so much?' 

"Yes," she says finally, after her long cool appraisal. "I think that's a wonderful idea." 

Hugh flashes the room key at her and suggests, 'Around nine o'clock suit you...........?' The pause allows her to offer her name. 

'You can call me Ann. I'll see you at nine then.'

Hugh laughs pleasantly. 

'Excellent! My name is Hugh by the way. We are expecting a few other 'like minded guests' so I am sure you will have a delightful evening.' he tells her before adding with a wink, 'Dress will be; 'informal'.'

The minute she leaves another man taps Hugh on the shoulder and the crazy merry-go-round starts again. Quickly you are once again lost in a haze of lust as your anonymous partners arouse you. Strange hands squeeze your ass. More hands grope inside the split of your skirt to finger your cunt, to probe the tight pucker of your anus. Your aching nipples are tweaked and sucked and bitten. This stimulus, on top of the feelings from your tight packed cunt, is irresistible. 

All you can do is clutch your dancing partner, mainly to stop yourself from falling, and come all over them. In an orgasmic daze you grind your pussy against their bulging groins. You feel several of them come as well. A couple of them take their cocks out so their spunk splatters against your dress or over your bare thighs. Almost insane with arousal you find yourself encouraging them, muttering filth in their ears. 

'Oh Fuck! Oh fuck!! You filthy fucker! Make this slut cum, you fucker. Oh No! I'm cumming agaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnn.'

Finally the band quits through exhaustion. You stand in a daze in the middle of the dance floor, clutching Hugh's arm. He reaches between your trembling legs and whips out the love balls, triggering a final orgasm. An orgasm so intense that you actually ejaculate, causing your secretions to run down your legs and drip onto the dance floor. Hugh holds aloft the balls, which also drip with your juices.

The crowd of, by now mainly male, spectators applaud as he leads you from the restaurant, his arm around your waist and your head on his shoulder. 

As you pass through the crowd you feel a hand pinch your ass, hard, causing you to cry out. Hugh looks around for a culprit and sees an obviously very drunk 'Mr Piggy' swaying and smirking. Hugh smiles, a smile that doesn't reach his eyes and takes the fat man's hand, as if to shake it. In a low, intense voice Hugh says, 

'I don't remember giving you permission to do that.' 

Then with a quick, savage wrench he dislocates 'Mr Piggy's' thumb. It takes several seconds for the pain to penetrate to his alcohol fogged brain but when it does he starts screaming, a high-pitched girlie sound. The noise quickly brings a gaggle of waiters, accompanied by Gunter.

'What seems to be the problem here?' the General Manager asks. 

Hugh speaks first, 

'This man assaulted my wife. If he is removed from the hotel I will not refer this matter to the local police. I'm sure the hotel would prefer that.' 

Gunter looks at the sobbing fat man and then says, 'Certainly Mr Hugh, I will take care of it personally. It will be a pleasure.' 

Hugh takes your hand again and you snuggle closer to him as you leave, tucked under his arm as it drapes over your shoulders. You have never felt so safe before, so secure. You know that Hugh will never let you come to any harm. You revel in the glorious, abandoned feeling of having surrendered your will in return for this sense of security and protection. 

'And great sex', you think to yourself.