The blonde complied, parting her legs as much as she appeared able to, given her confinement with the cuffs, and Carrie’s only regret was that she didn’t have a better view of the woman’s pussy. She watched as the guy sank his face eagerly into her crotch, appearing to eat voraciously at her. The blonde moaned and groaned as she thrust herself against him. “Oh God, oh God, lick me.”
The man gripped her ass, leaning his head back to peer possessively up at her as he worked his tongue. Carrie had to bite her lip, squeeze her own pussy tighter in her palm as she watched his tongue flitting about the blonde’s clit, delivering long, lapping strokes from bottom to top.
“Oh, you beast,” the woman cried. “I can’t stand it. Let me loose. I want to hold your head to my pussy. I want to play with my breasts. Undo my wrists, master. Please.” She pulled at the cuffs, making them jangle against the metal rails, and the sound seemed to echo through Carrie’s cunt.
The guy pulled back to deliver a threatening look. “Do you dare to defy me?”
The woman was panting now—in pleasure or frustration or both, Carrie couldn’t determine. “I…I can’t help it. Your tongue on my cunt feels too good. I need to…to touch…something, anything, while you lick my pussy. I need to hold onto something. Grip something tight. I can’t stand being locked up this way. And my breasts need some attention. I need to touch them, master,” she whimpered.
At her crotch, her “master” simply shook his head. “You’re a bad, bad girl. A selfish little slave. You have to be punished.”
The blonde pulled in her breath, her breasts jiggling slightly. “How?”
“Well, to begin with, you’re staying locked up, and I’m gonna lick your hot little pussy ‘til you come.”
Hmm, Carrie thought, some torture. What she wouldn’t give right now to have someone lick her clit. Loosening her hold on her mound just slightly, she brushed her fingertips over the cotton between her thighs.
She watched with rapt fascination as the sexy guy buried his tongue in his “slave’s” pussy once more. Above him, the woman panted and moaned, yanking at the cuffs, thrusting her cunt at his tongue, finally letting her head fall back as she sank into a firm, steady rhythm. Leather-clad knees bent outward, she lifted her pelvis to his mouth over and over, her expression still pained, but acceptant now. “Oooh, master, yes. Yes. Like that. Lick me just like that.”
She continued lifting, thrusting, as Carrie slid her free hand up her smooth chemise over her stomach and onto her breast. She caressed herself through the slick fabric, liking the way her round flesh and hard nipple felt through the silk.
“Oh God, yes, master—now! Now! I’m coming for you, master! I’m coming so hard!” She thrust at his face in hot, firm pelvic stabs that were so brutal Carrie nearly felt them, too, pulsing through her breasts, thighs, and pussy.
As the blonde panted her relief, her orgasm appearing to pass, her body went partially limp against the railing, her arms still held outstretched by the cuffs. “Unlock me now.”
The guy reached behind him to the balcony table for the key and unlocked one cuff from the rail. She sighed with relief at being able to pull her arm free. But no sooner had he undone the handcuff than he turned her body around to face the ocean. “What are you…?”
Carrie heard another click and when the blonde said, “Damn it,” Carrie knew he’d locked her back to the railing, only in this new position.
He spoke firmly. “I said you had to be punished. And getting you off wasn’t exactly punishment, was it?”
She looked over her shoulder and bit off the words, “Damn you.”
As before, he simply shook his head, chiding her. “You’re being such a bad girl tonight. Just digging yourself in deeper every minute.”
“What are you going to do to me?”
Carrie could see his wicked smile from where she sat. “I’m going to fuck you with a new toy, slave girl.”
“What new toy?” the blonde snapped, clearly caught off guard.
He gave his head a scolding tilt. “Turn back around and you’ll find out.” When she didn’t comply immediately, he barked, “Do it,” and she finally obeyed.
The guy moved back to the table and Carrie couldn’t see exactly what he was doing, only that he seemed to be securing something around his waist. When he turned back around a moment later, she saw he’d strapped on a black dildo that stood above his already massive cock.
Her cunt practically withered in response—she’d never seen anything so sexually threatening in her life. God, that poor woman!
He stepped up behind the unsuspecting blonde, using one hand to hold the black phallus out of the way while he used the other to position his real cock against her.
“Ohhhhh,” the woman moaned and Carrie’s pussy tingled again at witnessing the “slave’s” pleasure, imaging how it would feel to have that huge cock sink into her right now, imagining if it were her bent over the railing and Chris entering her from behind.
“Do you like that, slave girl?”
“Mmm, yes.”
“Well, get ready for cock number two.”
As Carrie watched, he positioned the strapped on penis in the crack of the blonde girl’s ass, and thrust slowly inward. The blonde let out a ferocious groan that made Carrie’s skin prickle with discomfort. God, had he just inserted it in her anus?
“Oh, that’s big,” the woman rasped out. “We’ve never used anything that big in my ass before.”
“Does it hurt?” For the first time, the “master’s” voice echoed with concern.
Her voice sounded breathy. “Kind of. I’m not even sure I’ll be able to take it when you start fucking me.” She cast a dark look over her shoulder at him. “But I like it.”
His expression turned controlling again. “You’re ready for it, slave. I’ve been getting you ready. So you’ll take it, all right.” He leaned slightly forward, his voice going low and authoritative. “You’ll be a good little slave and take your punishment. You’ll take it as long as I want to give it.”
Although his words nearly made Carrie shiver, despite the heat, she could see by the woman’s eyes, even more dark and feral now, that his threat turned her on. “Yes, master. For you, I’ll take it.”
That’s when he began to move and though Carrie couldn’t see the two large cocks going directly into the woman, she was both horrified and fascinated. He pumped them hard into her openings, and the woman cried out with each powerful stroke he delivered.
She shouldn’t be here, watching this.
She shouldn’t be here at all.
Yet, just like on the Party Barge, she couldn’t stop, couldn’t control her fascination with the forbidden—and the arousal it set off inside her. Finally, she gave in and began stroking herself through her panties.
Oh God, yes, sweet relief.
She dragged her middle finger up over her clit in time with his thrusts, and though she had no notion what it felt like to be filled as the blonde woman was being filled, she still somehow thought she did feel the deep plunges—at least in her mind.
She felt them as if Chris were delivering them. As if he hadn’t had to follow that rule about no touching. As if he’d taken control of her, bent her over the side of the boat, and rammed his big erection deep, deep, deep into her. Her fingers got damp through the cotton—she pushed it aside and sank them into her wet folds. She recalled the wild sensation of having a stream of water blasted onto her pussy, the satisfaction of knowing Chris was watching. The thought made her surge with still more moisture even as her chest went warm.
“Tell me you like it, slave!” the man bit out through clenched teeth.
“Yes! Yes! Yes! I love it!”
The drama of their sex pushed Carrie over the edge and for the third time that day she came—the climax storming through her like a hurricane, nearly making her cry out at the rushing swirls of pleasure, but she bit her lower lip to keep quiet and prayed they didn’t hear her ragged breathing over their own noises
.
When the orgasm faded, she drew her hand away and continued watching the couple, but she was still thinking about Chris—wondering if he ever played domination games, if he liked his sex hard or soft, fast or slow, if he liked his women in leather, or lace, or silky nightgowns like the one she wore. Even as the feelings of excitement faded, her heart beat harder with all of her questions and the certainty that she’d never know because she’d walked away from him.
God, was she hung up on him that fast? Was it even possible? It made no sense. Then again, something about him had driven her to act crazy, to get intimate with him—intimate, in fact, with a whole boatful of people just because she wanted to excite him. So maybe it was possible.
Great. Just what she needed to add to her cheating ex-fiancé—a grand crush on a guy she’d met briefly, in a wild setting, and gotten partially naked with—on vacation, no less. Yep, a lot of future there.
Future? Good lord, she was thinking of the future? With him? She leaned her head back, letting out a sigh.
Damn it, even if she’d gotten a little wild today, one thing inside her still hadn’t changed. What she longed for at her core—security, commitment, a relationship she could depend on. In the end, she hadn’t gotten that from Jon, and she surely wouldn’t be getting it from Chris—her beach god, a vacation fling. No, not even a fling, a vacation encounter.
She hated how emotional she got over romance, intimacy. But she couldn’t help it. It was part of her, in her bones. Which begged the question—if she was so crazy about him, why had she practically run away?
Because of the mortal embarrassment of knowing nothing that happened between them could signify anything lasting. That it was all meaningless. She was on vacation, after all. On vacation in his life—like a million girls on a million Party Barge cruises.
And also because of the pain of knowing it wasn’t real. She’d thought about Jon surprisingly little today given his ultimate betrayal yesterday, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t hurt. And she didn’t need any more agony or humiliation added to the pain she was already experiencing.
“Oh God, baby, I’m coming! I’m fucking coming in you!” yelled the guy, and both of them moaned through his last few hard strokes.
Then he slowly withdrew—both his cock and its rubber companion—before freeing her wrists from the handcuffs. As soon as the cuffs clanked down against the metal, she spun to embrace him and he pulled her tight against him, murmuring, “I love you, baby, I love you,” into her hair.
“I love you, too.”
When they gazed into each other’s eyes, it was impossible, even at that distance, to mistake their heartfelt affection for each other, something which suddenly seemed sweet, safe, real.
They shared what she so desperately wanted to share with someone. She’d not expected that. It made her let out a long sigh.
“Did you hear something?” the blonde asked.
Carrie tensed, her heart beginning to race.
“Like what, honey?”
“I don’t know—like…someone breathing heavy or something.”
He chuckled. “Probably me.”
“No,” she said, more softly, calmer now. “Someone else. Maybe.” The woman even pulled partially from his embrace to look around, and Carrie prayed she was still as invisible in the dark as she thought.
“Who cares anyway?” he asked. “Remember that time we did it in the pool at home and we spotted that guy watching us? Remember how hot it got us?”
Her reply sounded happier. “Oh. Yeah. Guess you’re right.”
Carrie watched as the two leather lovers made their way back into their room, closing the sliding door behind them. She couldn’t help feeling somehow jealous of the connection they shared.
So even though she wished for more with Chris, she was glad—relieved—she wouldn’t be seeing him again. She would just have to avoid the boat trip kiosk, suffer through the rest of her “honeymoon,” then go home and start trying to rebuild her existence as a single girl.
Chapter Three
The next morning, Carrie awoke with the hope that she could put yesterday behind her. It seemed like a strange dream. When she’d found her bridesmaid sucking Jon’s cock, she’d never been so shocked in her life—yet yesterday, she’d somehow surpassed it in one mere day, shocking herself even more. But surely the things that had happened yesterday were just a haphazard reaction to having her wedding ruined and her plans for marriage dashed. It wasn’t really about Chris, as she’d thought last night. She didn’t even know him, so it couldn’t have been about him.
Standing before the mirror, she tied the top of her leopard-print bikini behind her neck. Another little gift from Diana that had come with a card saying: In case you decide to get a little wild on your honeymoon. Secretly, she’d been pleased, thinking the bikini much sexier in cut and style than she’d have chosen on her own. Funny, before yesterday, the skimpier-than-usual suit had seemed like a wild step toward hedonism, and now it seemed like nothing. Even so, she liked the way it looked on her—the triangle top baring the inner curves of her breasts, the bottoms dipping low beneath her belly button with only small straps stretching across her hips.
Not that she needed to look sexy today—she certainly didn’t.
No, today she intended to lay low, go on her snorkeling cruise, and hope the combination of sun, water, and observing fish swimming in the coral would provide a pleasant distraction from the last couple of days. After that, she might read a book next to the hotel pool while working on her tan, then do a little shopping on Duval Street before darkness brought out the partiers.
Tying a short, sheer black sarong about her hips, she stepped into stylish black flip-flops and hoisted a beach bag to her shoulder.
Heading out into the hall as her door shut firmly behind her, she ran smack into a tall, sexy dark-haired guy. She lost her balance, falling against him, one breast pressing squarely against his muscled arm. He caught her around the waist and set her upright.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, still reeling from being in the grip of those strong hands, then looked up to realize—oh God!—it was the leather guy from last night. Only he looked perfectly normal now—not to mention hot—wearing a pair of red swim trunks and a loose white tank top.
“No harm done,” he said with a winning smile.
That’s when the blonde “slave” approached, hurrying up behind him in a teeny black bikini beneath a formfitting cover-up of black mesh that didn’t actually cover anything at all, reminding Carrie of the sexy curves she’d spied last night. “Okay, ready now,” she announced to her lover, only then seeming to notice Carrie. “Hi,” she said in a friendly voice.
“Looks like we’re neighbors,” Carrie replied, motioning vaguely to the door down the hall just now clicking shut.
The blonde’s eyes brightened even more. “Oh, you’re in the other honeymoon suite. I’m Amy, and this is my husband, Cole.” She smiled up at him. “Husband. I’m not quite used to that yet.”
Carrie hadn’t realized the hotel possessed more than one honeymoon suite, but this explained why there was only one other door on her side of the hall and why the two balconies were situated next to each other.
So they were married. And on their honeymoon. They looked so in love. It was hard to reconcile that they were indeed the same couple who’d been wearing bondage apparel and talking so dirty to each other last night.
“I’m Carrie. Nice to meet you.”
“Are you waiting for your husband? We can hold the elevator for him,” Amy offered as the three began making their way up the hall.
Carrie felt a familiar heat climb her cheeks. “Um, actually, no.”
“Oh, he’s already downstairs?”
Carrie considered lying, given the embarrassment factor in the truth, but gave it up. “Actually, I’m here alone.”
Amy raised her eyebrows, clearly confused. “In the honeymoon suite?”
Carrie reached out to push the elevator butto
n as they reached it, glad to have somewhere else to look. “I was supposed to have a husband by now, but…the wedding didn’t exactly come off as planned, which is to say, it didn’t come off at all. So I decided to take the trip anyway to clear my head and unwind.”
“Wow, I’m sorry,” Amy said.
“That’s rough,” Cole echoed.
Carrie forced a smile in their direction. “Yeah, it was a bummer, but I’m ready to put it behind me and enjoy the sun.”
Both of them smiled back and Amy’s eyes widened. “Hey, you want to join us for breakfast?”
“Oh, thanks, but no. You’re on your honeymoon, after all.” And I watched you having sex last night, which makes this whole meeting kind of awkward.
“We don’t mind, do we, honey?” Amy looked up at Cole.
The elevator arrived and Cole held the door, entering last. “Of course not. Why don’t you join us? We’re just grabbing a bite in the restaurant downstairs.”
“They have oceanfront tables—a really nice view,” Amy added.
Carrie sighed. Her plan had been to eat the same restaurant. She only had an hour before boarding her snorkeling cruise, so she didn’t have time to go walking up Duval in search of breakfast. And it would certainly look odd if she turned them down only to appear at the same place right behind them. “Well, if you insist.”
Amy smiled, and Carrie still tried to envision her as the vixen in leather straps who’d been yelling, “Lick me!” last night. It didn’t seem possible—Amy seemed so friendly and sweet. Carrie could only conclude that maybe she was more naïve about sex than she’d thought—that perhaps plenty of perfectly regular people got into leather and bondage and she just didn’t know it.
Within moments, the trio was seated on a platform overlooking the marina and the ocean beyond. The morning sun beat down on their shoulders as they ordered hearty breakfast meals and made small talk. Carrie learned her companions lived in Chicago, and in turn, she told them about growing up in Maryland and the small bookstore she’d opened there two years ago.
Key West Page 5
