Hi everyone,
Greetings from Aranea Island! Having a wonderful time! Thinking of you! Wish you were here!
There, I’ve covered all the clichés, so now I can tell you all about our latest adventure. I’m writing to you from the balcony of our suite overlooking the bay, enjoying brilliant sunshine, a lovely cooling breeze and a very tall Piña Colada. The rest of the gang have gone downtown for breakfast and some final-day souvenir shopping, so I should have a couple of hours of peace and quiet to write to you. If they return early, I can always finish this on the trip home.
Unlike our first visit last year, the weather has been all-round superb. Not that we wasted much time or energy complaining then, but in the entire week we’ve been here the sea and sky have been so crystal clear and blue that when you look out towards the horizon, it’s almost impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins. The hotel is luxurious, maybe more than makes me really comfortable, but we’ve only stayed here for the one night, so I have steeled myself to cope with the opulence. Anyway, by this time next week we will be back in the dorm, which I guess balances the karma.
Our plane touched down just before noon in brilliant sunshine. The landing was rather hair-raising, because the strip appears scarily short and slender from above. So coming here by air is so much more exciting than by ship, if that’s the sort of thrill you’re after. However, the flight itself was uneventful, four hours long, with just a little turbulence on the final approach. There were about thirty passengers on board, and it was easy to tell the neophytes from the veterans, by their expressions and overall body language. Nevertheless we were all a little tense; and the knots in the stomach were not due entirely to flying jitters.
Sweet little Kate was the most calm of us, at least on the outside – quite a change from last time. Gina, on the other hand, was even more than her regular bundle of nervous energy. If you touched her, you’d probably get an electric shock. Beth threatened that if she didn’t chill out we might have to tie her down, and didn’t bat an eyelid when we all laughed. It’s hard to tell if she’s being ironic. Our woman of mystery was her usual, enigmatic self... you know what she’s like. You always wonder what going on behind those big, sparkling, dark eyes. She’s so pretty, it would be nice to see what she’d look like if she smiled.
The aircrew remained on board as we disembarked, and took off again almost as soon as our feet touched the tarmac. We were greeted by half a dozen girls from the resort staff. They all looked gorgeous, and it was funny to watch the faces of the first-time guests, who couldn’t keep their eyes off them. The men paid most attention to the barely-there uniforms, while the women focused on the chokers, bracelets and anklets. I saw a couple of the ladies with their hands up to their throats, imagining how their collar was going to feel, and one even spun her head about in the direction of the plane. Too late – it was already picking up speed on the runway.
We didn’t need to go inside the airport terminal. Instead, we divided into groups of five or six to be ushered to the waiting taxis. Our party was just the right size for the last one on the rank. We allowed David the privilege of carrying our luggage; but the five of us didn’t have much – this is a tropical paradise, after all. Our driver was a petite blonde with lustrous blue eyes and a pert smile, who introduced herself as Sarah. As she helped David to load the bags, I couldn’t help thinking that she looked so young. I was remembering how the narrow, winding road she’d be navigating over wanders so perilously close to the coastal cliffs. David was also inspecting her, but with different thoughts, no doubt. I was wearing cut-off denim shorts and a tank top but felt positively overdressed next to Sarah in her tiny hibiscus-and-orchid bikini and strawberry pink mini-sarong. But I’m sure she’s used to the attention. I imagine all the women who work here are.
Any misgivings I had about the girl’s driving skills were quickly dispelled. It was, after all, silly to think otherwise. They wouldn’t assign just anyone to the job of ferrying precious guests about the island. She took us down the track, past the brooding grey mass of Granite Peak on the left and quaint, colourful Pirate’s Cove on the right, until we crested a broad ridge, from which we could look down over the town and out across the bay.
We did not go into Resort Village, but split off from our little convoy and detoured around the northern edge. There was not much other traffic, but we passed a large number of pedestrians, and along the way a picnic ground with several couples and a family of five. Sarah drove on without comment, while the rest of us, except for David, took it in fairly casually. After all, we’d seen this before. He, on the other hand, being the newbie, was mesmerized by the sight of the women and girls. Some were gagged, a few were blindfolded, but every one of them was tied, trussed and tethered in one way or another. Some were being led on leashes, others shuffled along beside the road in hobbles. In the park there were hog-ties and frog-ties, spreadeagles and strappadoes. A boy of fourteen or fifteen years of age was playing with two older girls who were most likely his sisters. They were lying on their sides, tied back-to-back with hands bound over their heads, and they were wriggling and writhing on the grass, shrieking and laughing through bulbous ball-gags as their brother tormented them with a tree branch and a very large water pistol. Nearby, their father watched over them with amused indulgence while he applied the finishing touches of an elaborate and awkward looking “shrimp tie†to his wife. Elsewhere, about a dozen guys and squealing girls were wrestling under the fronts of a huge pandanus palm, when two of the young women broke loose and made a dash for freedom. One was quickly recaptured and subdued, but the other was very athletic and outpaced her pursuers. When she looked back and saw her friend being pinned to the ground, she returned with her hands up in surrender, and knelt beside her fellow damsels to receive her ropes.
There were some strange sights as well. We encountered a quartet of Roman soldiers leading about two dozen young women half-dressed in short white tunics. They could have been performers on their way to a show, or guests en route to a costume party. Despite being heavily shackled at the neck, waist, wrists and ankles, the slavegirls looked much more at ease than their captors, who were clad in the full leather-and-metal rig and sweating under the blazing sun. They were trudging beside the road in the same direction as us, but none looked up as we went by. Farther along, we encountered three women in staff uniforms, manacled and blindfolded, being led in file by a fourth who was unconstrained except for a ball-gag and a chain attached to all four collars. The leader was using their tether to guide and steer her sightless colleagues by means of subtle tugs and jerks on the yoke of the first girl, which she then passed on to the next in line. It must have been a difficult thing to co-ordinate, and it occurred to me that it’s something you can do only with practice. (I guess it gives a wonderful new meaning to career skills and on-the-job training.)
David made a remark I didn’t hear – Kate giggled and Beth growled. We were moving slowly, sticking to the island’s very conservative speed limit, so we had plenty of time to take in the sights. Eventually, however, we reached a small housing estate located in a hillside depression on the eastern outskirts of the town. We pulled up in front of a white-painted bungalow clustered with half a dozen others around a leafy cul-de-sac. Although the building itself was modest, it was approached by a rather ornate porch with two full columns flanking the top of the steps. The neighbourhood appeared deserted, but it was lunchtime and the day was hot, so the atmosphere wasn’t spooky or depressing. Our chauffeur remained in her seat as she handed Beth the keys, while David hauled our luggage once more.
Our home for the next few days was compact but comfortable, with kitchen, dining and living rooms, bathroom and laundry on the ground floor, and an interior second storey accommodating three bedrooms and a linen closet. David was naturally assigned one of the bedrooms, while Kate and I shared the second, Beth and Gina the third. Each was just big enough for twin beds, a dresser and a nightstand. Everything appeared normal, until we made a closer inspection. Screwed into the wall at various places and heights around the room were large “eye†bolts. The beds’ headboards and footboards were metal frames, and some of the vertical bars had been both polished to a high sheen and slightly eroded by long-term buffing and abrasion. It did not take much imagination to decipher these clues, but as if to confirm, just as Kate and I were looking at each other meaningfully, we heard Gina’s voice calling.
“Hey guys, come see what I’ve found.â€
We hurried back to the ground floor. Nestled under the staircase beside the broom closet was a waist-high cabinet, inside which were three shelves. On the top one was a large assortment of gags, each sealed in cellophane wrap – ball-gags, bit-gags, panel-gags, ring-gags, plug-gags, etcetera. Some had elastic straps, others were buckle-on. There was also a stack of neatly folded scarves or kerchiefs – black, dark blue and crimson and made of a satiny material. Occupying the second row were coils of rope (hemp and nylon) and rolls of tape, plus a collection of collars and chokers. On the bottom shelf were chains of various gauges, cuffs, anklets, tethers and harnesses. There was some other stuff which looked vaguely and ominously familiar.
We four girls looked around at each other, and then at David, who was standing back watching us. His expression was one of both amusement and suppressed excitement. But he didn’t move or say a thing. In fact, there followed a rather uncomfortable silence, until Kate declared “I’m hungry.â€
We again looked at David, who took another moment to understand and respond. Then he moved his finger around until it pointed at Beth and then swivelled around towards the kitchen. She nodded, frowned, smiled and shrugged her shoulders as she went off to prepare lunch.
I could see David had been bracing himself for Beth’s onslaught, and when she didn’t react as expected his face lit up, enough for me to get a glimpse of what he was thinking. Again without a word but just a wave of one hand, he ordered the three of us remaining to assemble in the middle of the living room. I thought he was acting imperious until, when he did speak, the first words came out in a barely audible croak, and I realized he was nervous. He told us to stand in a row, at attention but with our arms folded behind our backs. He looked surprised, and even somewhat bemused, when we obeyed him without question.
I’m not sure if you know the full story of how David came to be with us this time. He hadn’t heard of Aranea Island and took it as quite a compliment when we invited him to join us. I joked that he was coming along as our chaperon, and Beth visibly bristled at that. The poor girl really does take everything so seriously. But we didn’t let on about his real purpose until we were in the air and on our way; and I don’t know if he felt flattered or offended to learn what his role was to be. I guess most guys would not look such a gift horse in the mouth; but we five have been together for so long now that we’re like family – more specifically, the way he gets harried and hassled, he’s the little brother and we’re his big sisters.
Yet I could see (out of the corner of my eye because I was standing rigid and facing forward) that he was quickly adapting to his responsibilities and enjoying his newfound power. Nevertheless, being able to order a bunch of girls about and having them comply without hesitation took a bit of getting used to, especially for someone as easygoing as our David. No doubt he was wondering how far his authority might extend – or how far our obedience and tolerance could be stretched. So he began by testing the water. He told us to “straighten up†– grasp our elbows firmly with our hands, pull back our shoulders and push out our chests.
At that last command Gina snarled under her breath, but she did not challenge it. Kate giggled.
David left us standing there, unmoving and silent, for a long time. He went to the “appliance†cupboard to take a full inventory, then he disappeared upstairs for what seemed like forever, and finally he went to have a shower. In all that time, we did not move a muscle nor say a word. I think we showed amazing self-discipline. At one point, Beth came out of the kitchen, no doubt curious as to why everything had gone so quiet, and when she saw us she allowed herself just a wry smile before retreating. To our credit, none of us as much as turned our heads to acknowledge her. We were all aware that this was a test not only of his control but also of our compliance and commitment. How we behaved and responded over the next few minutes or the next couple of hours would decide what sort of vacation we would be having in Aranea Island Resort.
David returned to the room just as Beth was setting out the meal. She had done a good job with the limited provisions stocked in the house. Satisfied with what he’d achieved so far, he said “You can relax now,†and we had our lunch. While we were eating, he made us go over exactly what we were expecting of him over the coming seven days. At one point, Gina grumbled “Do you want it in writing?†but it was pretty smart of him to ensure that both he and we had it absolutely clear and straight in our minds. Even so, during the conversation I saw his eyes flicker uncertainly in Beth’s direction many, many times. I guess he was still suspicious that this was all some kind of diabolical trap.
Apart from that, the only time he looked genuinely doubtful was when we explained the importance of safe-words and signals, and these we really did put in writing, so that there would be no uncertainty or misunderstanding. Kate made up a poster by pasting together four pieces of paper, and taped it onto the wall. Underneath it, dangling from a string, she put a large pair of scissors and a utility knife for use in an emergency. David got the message that his role would not be all fun and games – he had a duty of care as well.
Once the lunch mess had been cleared away, we decided that the rest of the afternoon, until dinner time, should be spent productively, in teaching David the ropes – literally. Indeed, it was a little daunting that of the five of us, the one who was a complete novice at bondage was to be the one putting the rest of us in it. So Gina and I went to the cabinet, carefully selected what we decided he would be needing, brought it back in several piles and dumped it all onto the sofa.
We started with the simple stuff and David proved to be a fast – and keen – learner. The house was designed around a capacious living room, which had a large, fleecy rug spread over polished wooden floorboards. It was therefore set up with plenty of space for games and the choice of a hard or soft surface on which to play them.
Beth appointed herself chief instructor and said “Let’s get started,†but when, after she’d kicked off her sandals, she began unbuttoning her blouse, everyone else just froze and stared at her. She discarded the shirt and then unbuckled and dropped her jeans. David blinked several times, and I’m sure I saw him licking his lips. But when she was down to her bra and knickers, she went no further.
“What’s the problem?†she demanded. “It’s more comfortable.â€
Maybe so, but I had a good idea of what she was doing. Our Beth does like to throw the proverbial cat among the pigeons. By stripping down she was being provocative, but by stopping at her undies she was proclaiming her limits. At least that’s my interpretation. In any case, as soon as she had deposited her clothes on the end of the sofa, she turned to David and held out her hands, elbows straight, fists together and clenched. He took up the first of the ropes – about a metre of soft nylon cord – and wrapped it around her wrists a few times. He was, as expected, a complete novice, and so she had to give him elementary advice – for example to lay each loop of the rope flat and not criss-crossing, and to allow some separation between her forearms so that a cinch could be applied (and to ensure that her blood circulation was in no danger of being cut off). They followed that up with another rope just above the elbows. He was a bit disconcerted when she winced as he tightened it until her elbows touched – rookies usually don’t understand the limits of flexibility. At the same time, he was impressed that she didn’t complain.
While they were doing this, Beth proffered more advice, such as to never leave any of us unattended while tied up and especially gagged. He kept interrupting with stuff like “Well, that’s obvious...†and she replied with “I don’t care how obvious it is...†but I knew he was winding her up because I could see his lips moving as he listened – he was repeating the information to himself to lock it in his mind. But she also had a point – even as she instructed him, he was tightening her bonds and the control was, in a sense, passing along the rope from her to him.
When Beth and David were happy with his progress, I stepped forward and turned away from him, so he could apply his first lesson on me but with my arms behind my back. He immediately discerned that this way is a lot more stressful for the subject. I grunted and groaned, and he paused to ask if I was okay. He was reluctant to make my elbow-tie too tight, so I had to tell him to not be such a wimp, and so he tugged on the cord as hard as he could, wrenching back my shoulders, and I gasped, and he apologized, and we both laughed.
Gina and Kate sat on the edge of the rug and watched us with growing impatience. David had taken more than half an hour just to tie Beth’s and my arms. Before he proceeded, however, he decided that we should all pay for my insult to his manhood. He picked out four gags from the variety Gina and I had chosen, and extracted them from their sealed wrapping. We had made sure to select the right sizes, but with his inexperience he didn’t bother to check. He gave Gina and Kate ball-gags. Kate screwed up the face because it was very large for her small mouth, but said nothing and buckled it in place. Since I couldn’t put on my own, he had Kate do it for me. As she did so, she was making soft gurgling sounds from the effort of having to clamp her jaws onto the oversized ball, because although it was made of rubber, it was squeezable only with difficulty.
My gag was the plug type – one with a smooth shaft, not one of those gross ones shaped like a penis, but with a slick, slimy texture and a rather unpleasant plastic taste (which was probably my imagination, since it was made of tasteless, odourless silicone). Fortunately it was optimum sized – the plug was long and wide enough to fill most of my mouth without me having to clamp my teeth around it to keep it from moving about, and not too big that it protruded into my throat or restricted air flow and interfered with proper salivation. Of course, we should have briefed David more thoroughly on the subject of gags and all they involve. But he isn’t stupid, and anyway, it would make an apt topic for discussion at dinner time.
Beth, naturally, had to remain ungagged in order to act as mentor; but to remind her that she was in his power, he hung it around her neck, ready for insertion at his whim.
Gina leapt up eagerly when the next turn came. Of us all, she is the most adventuresome, so maybe she should have waited, because David was improving his technique with each girl, escalating the intensity and starting to experiment. He took only a couple of minutes to tie her arms behind her and then, with more counsel from Beth, he bound her knees and ankles. She was still standing, so when she was completely immobilized, he put one arm across her shoulders and one around her waist and lowered her carefully onto the rug. She wiggled and squirmed, just for the sheer pleasure of it, and David watched her for a minute or so with an odd expression. I guess he was trying to figure out how anyone could get so turned on, lying on the floor bound, gagged and helpless. Like many who have not had the experience, he was focused on how the ropes look rather than how they feel. And since he hasn’t had the chance to switch to the other end of the ropes in all the time we’ve been here, maybe before we go back out to the airport this afternoon he should be given the opportunity.
But to return to our first day... As you know, although she’s tiny and looks so fragile, our Kate is incredibly tough. Well, that was a good thing, because by the time he got to her David had worked up his enthusiasm. He did to her what he had done to Gina, completing the job so quickly that as she lay on the floor, on her belly awaiting the next move on her, Kate was panting and puffing through her gag. Having taken the control from his guide, David informed Beth that he was going to apply a hog-tie, but at least he was conscientious in accepting directions. Once he had secured Kate’s ankles to her wrists, he ran the rest of the cord up and around her elbow rope and made it so tight that her torso was arched backwards and she started to moan.
“Is she okay?†he said to Beth.
“Shouldn’t you be asking her?†Beth replied.
He acknowledged his gaffe with a sheepish grin, but before he could say anything to her, Kate slowly nodded her head. She had twisted her body so that while her legs were still sideways on the rug, her hands were under her backside and her top half was facing upwards, with both shoulders on the floor, so that she could look up at him crouched over her. It must have appeared very uncomfortable from his perspective, because he grimaced as he studied her contorted figure. He was about to help her turn over into a completely face-up position when he must have realized that if he did so, all of her weight, as light as she is, would be resting on her arms. Instead, he placed one hand under her shoulder and the other on her hip and rolled her gently onto her stomach.
“Stay!†he commanded, when she began to wriggle. He thought about that for a second, then amended it to “Stay as you are.†I liked that David was thinking about his words as well as his actions. It was a good sign that he was taking his responsibilities in the right spirit.
With Kate hog-tied, David now returned to Beth with a “What now?†look. She pondered for a moment, and then instructed him to untie her elbows and loosen her wrist ropes. As an immediate afterthought, she added “Please.†When he had done so, she squatted on the rug. With more slack in the bindings on her wrists, she was able to cross them, which allowed her to put her arms over her legs to hug her knees and bring them up against her chest.
“Now tie my wrists to my ankles. This is a ball-tie,†she explained.
She was still squatting and therefore hunched forward, but to enable him to wrap the cord around her ankles she dropped back onto her bottom; and when he had finished she flopped – or more accurately lolled – until she ended up lying on her side. She struggled in her ropes for a few seconds, testing how secure they were. But it was David who decided to add a final touch, running another rope in a loop behind her neck and down between her knees to her ankles, and drawing it taut in order to force her head forward and her body into a tighter, rounder ball.
“Very good; you’re learning,†she declared with gritted teeth.
“This is easy,†he said.
“Maybe for you,†Gina mumbled though her gag, as she continued to squirm.
David stared at her, surprised that she could enunciate despite the red orb filling her mouth, or perhaps wondering if she was about to use her safe word or signal. She was prostrate on her belly, and the only gesture that she made was to raise the middle finger of each hand. He replied in the appropriate way, putting her in a hog-tie like Kate’s, but even more stringent. She stopped twisting and twitching, and whimpered a couple of times, but she couldn’t hold back a soft but telltale sigh of bliss.
As I was the only girl left standing, David wanted something different for me, and Beth suggested a chest harness and strappado. It was obvious from his response that he had no idea what either of these might be, but under Beth’s expert guidance his education was progressing nicely. Once he had threaded the rope over and under my arms behind my back, he looped it about my body, between and around my breasts. He was cautious and rather timid at first.
“You can tie them tight, they won’t burst,†Beth instructed.
I cursed her for that, but none of the words made it past the silicone plugging my mouth. In any case, I didn’t really mind, and David was actually too painstaking, as he tried to avoid unnecessary boob contact. So the process took a while and the whole scene was beginning to feel just a little bit surreal. Indeed, it would have made a bizarre picture – the four of us prostrate, bound and helpless, with the so formidable Beth in her undies trussed in her rolled-up position on the floor, calmly coaching her apprentice, one of the most casual and carefree guys you will ever meet, in the art of tying up women.
But I have to take a break now. Two noisily insistent seagulls have landed next to me on the balcony and are demanding hand-outs. So I shall email you this first instalment, do my duty and fix myself a snack as well.
To be continued...