Continues from For Your Pleasure (II)
The sun poured through my bedroom windows and lit the room with sharp dazzling white light. Still half dazed from sleep, I pushed the sheets off my bare legs to the bottom of the bed, and like a contented cat, I stretched sensuously to let the sun’s warmth caress my nakedness.
I turned over on my belly and put a couple of pillows under me so I could better see through the window and let my eyes feast on the view.
We were on Belos, Madame’s own private island in the Aegean. And it was paradise.
The sea stretched to the horizon – glistening points of sunlight reflected and sparkled on a sheet of deepest blue. On the right, on a rocky hill, some goats grazed next to a path which led up to an ancient temple. From there you could walk down to a beach where Silvie and I sunbathed naked every day.
The sky was enormous and clear and in the morning sunlight everything seemed vivid – almost glowing. The scene was like a 19th century impressionist painting – only this was for real.
We had been on the island for nearly a week and the buzz that view gave me every morning was such a high. What a way to start the day.
Silvie and I were inseparable now. We were like twins – so much so that we seemed to be able to read each other’s thoughts and moods. Sometimes it even seemed supernatural. The day before, when we’d been sunbathing on the beach, I had felt an itch on my leg and, before I’d had time to move my hand, Silvie had scratched it for me. What made it so strange was that she was lying on her front with her eyes closed – she couldn’t possibly have seen it.
I shifted on my pillows and looked down to see Leandros walking up the path that led to the house. He was carrying two large boxes and was quite naked.
Leandros was our new slave. He was the boy I had seen being cock-whipped at the chateau. Madame had brought him with us to do any heavy work… and for amusement.
Silvie thought he had a crush on me and that was why he was with us. He was also a masochist and loved to be whipped and punished. She had wasted no time in putting him to the test and the marks of her whip were still clearly visible on his ass and back. She also reckoned he was from a wealthy family and was paying a considerable sum to spend the month with us as our slave.
A month on an almost deserted island as a sex slave to three beautiful women – you can see the appeal, can’t you?
He was tall and wiry with wavy dark blond hair and was, I guessed, in his early twenties. He had the build of a runner and was obviously very fit. Fit enough to carry two heavy looking boxes up a steep path without losing either his breath or his poise.
There was a masculine grace about him I found highly attractive. He seemed so calm and his movements were always slow and assured. Madame had sworn him to silence and Silvie, by means of a regular morning whipping, had extracted only the slightest of information from him. She said he showed little emotion and seemed to derive a kind of inner strength from being flogged.
He was now at the shelter next to the gate. It needed fixing and painting and I saw him stretch to reach at something on the roof. His bare buttocks clenched as he stood on tip-toe and a long curved line appeared down his tanned back from his neck to his ass. His long arms were raised – as if in supplication – highlighting his rounded shoulder muscles.
I imagined him kneeling before me….
I breathed in deeply and moved my hand down to my pussy. My eyes lingered on his thighs and his ass seemed to beckon to me, tempting me to savor its soft rounded fruit by any means – a kiss, a caress, a slap…
Or even the whip.
Oh, especially the whip…
My imagination was just starting to run away with me when Silvie appeared. She had just come out of the shower and was naked. She lay down next to me on the bed and rested her damp head against mine. She looked out of the window and gave me a peck on the cheek. Then she saw Leandros and said, “Hmmmm… admiring the view?”
One of the things I loved about Silvie was her total lack of jealousy. We had acquired a trust and a knowledge of each other that been forged in pleasure and in pain and which brooked no place for ego tantrums or selfishness. We loved each other and desired only love and pleasure for each other – even if it meant we were not always the source of it.
Her hand gently removed mine and her fingers entered my pussy. My eyes now devoured the boy’s body even more avidly and I stretched my arm out to the open window, moaning in delight as Silvie’s fingers delved inside me caressing and stroking my clit.
She kissed my cheek again and whispered, “Shall we call him up?”
I took hold of Silvie’s hand and shifted over to face her, “Does he have to wear that chastity cock cage thing?”
She laughed, “Until Madame says it can be removed, yes. She wants him hungry… and domesticated.”
“No. Then, let’s wait. Can we talk to Madame this afternoon or tonight at dinner about taking it off?”
I looked at her and said quite plainly, and with all the self-assurance of someone calling up room service, “Silvie, I need a cock inside me.”
“I know.” She grinned. “That’s why Madame’s made him wear the thing. She’s not stupid.”
We both laughed and she turned me over and grabbed my nipples. She kissed me on the mouth, “C’mon you lazy bitch. Get up. There’s work to do. If you want cock you got to work for it.”
Actually there wasn’t much work to do. There were only four of us and we were on holiday. Madame spent a lot of time in her study – she was writing a book – so Silvie kept things organized and gave Leandros his daily duties which included the household chores, cooking and cleaning.
Madame often came down to the beach with us in the afternoons for a swim. With her long lean body she was a graceful, confident swimmer and she often stayed in the water for long periods. She swam so far out one day that we lost sight of her. I started to worry but Silvie said she did it all the time.
After a siesta we’d go for walks or explore the island which, apart from a small fishing village of around a dozen houses, was deserted.
We had arrived from Italy on Madame’s yacht after flying from Paris. After a week of forced nudity, it had felt strange to have to think of what clothes to wear for the journey. Here on the island I willingly reverted to going naked. The island felt like paradise to me and I really thought the best way to experience Eden was in the nude – even if I did use up masses of sun and anti-mosquito cream.
During the day I just wore sandals or sneakers when out walking. Silvie occasionally wore a bikini bottom but I really loved being naked. It felt more natural and comfortable, and I really felt myself more confident and happier in the nude. I was now tanned all over and the marks and bruises from the whippings I had received in Paris were fading.
I had never felt more contented. Silvie and I were two frisky kittens and I knew that this was as good as it gets. This was what freedom really felt like and I had learned to appreciate it and savor each moment of beauty that life offered me.
I also wanted to return that gift to others.
Later that morning, when we were making our way down to the beach, we passed Leandros working in the garden and I asked Silvie what more she knew about him.
“Not much,” she replied. “I think he’s east European, possibly Russian, and rich.”
“He doesn’t look Russian to me. More Mediterranean. Do you often get people prepared to pay to… stay with you?”
She smiled. “Oh yes. All sorts. Madame has a lot of connections. Big money. One guy we had here a couple of years ago now works in the government.” She stopped. “We don’t speak about any of this of course.”
“No, I understand.”
I see him on TV sometimes and I always think of his cute red ass when I whipped him here and the way he begged for more.” She laughed.
We arrived at our usual spot on the beach and silvie said, “Come on. Last one in the water gets whipped by the winner!”
But I was ready for her. I dropped everything and bolted for the water.
Continues 14. A Gift