Saturday

 

Put put put put put put put….

 

Steve Williamson recognised the sound of an ancient Stuart Turner diesel chugging away lazily as it pushed a brightly painted, but probably just as ancient ferry towards, where exactly? The holiday had been his wife’s idea and it was to be a surprise for him. She had organised and booked it and told him only that it would be at a posh and exclusive resort somewhere in The Med, and that his windsurfing harness and rash vest might come in handy. Any holiday that involved windsurfing couldn’t be all bad in Steve’s book, unless it was in one of those poxy places where the wind doesn’t blow. But Kay wouldn’t send them to somewhere like that. She was no slouch herself when it came to reaping the wind on a board. In fact that’s how he had first met her, and he had fallen in love instantly with the bikini-clad goddess who whizzed past him off a beach in Aruba. And now, after nine years of marriage, he still loved her, probably more than ever, and he knew that she loved him. They were so good together in so many ways and yet Steve knew their marriage was breaking down over that one thing that they just could not resolve. He had the feeling that this was more than just a mystery holiday, it seemed like it might be a last chance saloon for them as a couple. The last resort for their marriage.

 

The boat chugged on towards the sun that was starting to set, and presumably towards one of the islands that Steve could see silhouetted against it. He judged the speed to be four or five knots at most, which would mean at least another half hour to the closest looking of the islands. The flight from Gatwick to Dubrovnik had only been about two hours, but with the tedium of airports, getting to them, a long coach transfer, a taxi ride, and now a trip on this tiny ferry, plus all the waiting around in between, they had been on the go since before six that morning and Steve just wanted to be there now, wherever it was. He turned and looked at Kay who was leaning on the boat’s rail and staring towards the sunset. She looked more beautiful than ever with her long, curly hair waving in the last of the afternoon Bora, but Steve knew she was nervous about something. He watched her fiddling with her necklace, a sure sign that she was stressed.

 

Katarina Williamson, Kay to her friends, was actually feeling a lot more than just nervous. She was distinctly agitated. The mystery holiday had seemed like such a good idea at the time she had booked it, but now, as they approached their destination she knew Steve would be furious with her, and she really wasn’t sure what he would do. She had to tell him soon, maybe even now. But no. If she told him now, he might stay on the ferry and just go back to the mainland. She had to wait until they were on the island and the ferry had left. He would be stuck there with nowhere else to stay. He would have no choice but to indulge her. This had been her plan all along. To force him to meet her at least half way, and break the impasse that was tearing them apart.

 

There were two other couples on the boat and since it went nowhere else, Kay assumed they were heading to Susac as well. This worried her as she feared they would start chatting, and someone would spill the beans to Steve as to where they were going. So far it had been okay. One couple was German and they didn’t seem to speak much English and the other couple had kept themselves to themselves, she lying down on a long seat and he talking quietly to her. But now he had left her side and wandered over to chat with Kay and Steve.

 

“Lovely evening,” he said.

 

“Yes,” replied Steve. “Lovely for a long ferry ride.”

 

“Hehe. That’s the problem with exclusive resorts in exotic, remote places,” said the man. “The day of purgatory spent travelling to them. And the other day spent travelling home. I’m Jason Burns.”

 

“Steve. Steve Williamson. And this is my wife, Kay.”

 

“Pleased to meet you both. And lying down over there, that’s Jocelyn.”

 

“Is she okay?” asked Kay.

 

“Oh yeah. She gets a little seasick when she’s tired. Goes away if she lies down.”

 

“You both must be pretty keen to get here,” said Steve, spotting an opportunity to fish for clues as to where they were going.

 

“Oh hell yes. Susac is the best. We love it.”

 

“Yes well this our first time,” said Kay. “And it’s supposed to be a surprise treat for Steve here. He doesn’t know anything about where we’re going.”

 

“A surprise? Boy, as surprises go, it’s gonna be a big one. Oh well, I better watch and not say anything to spoil it. I’ll just say this is the eighth time we’ve come here. You’re definitely in for a treat. There’s nothing to not like about Susac.”

 

The boat chugged on, eventually arriving at the larger of the two islands, and as the last of the sun disappeared below the horizon, it rounded a small headland and entered a narrow inlet fringed with cypress trees. White painted buildings with red, tiled roofs and arched windows were clustered around the head of the inlet, and in its shelter the last of the wind died away and the water became calm. The aroma of land returned; trees, flowers, food cooking, wood smoke, all absent out at sea, and all amplified by landfall. They had arrived.

 

 The boat pulled in alongside a wooden jetty and its six passengers stepped ashore to be met by a middle aged man in a smart suit who spoke with a Dutch accent.

 

“Good  evening. Good evening. Guten Abent. Welcome to Susac. My name is Peter Jens and I am the duty manager. I hope you all had a pleasant journey.”

 

“Not bad thanks,” replied Steve. “A bigger engine in your ferry would have seen me arrive a little younger though.”

 

“Ah possibly Sir, but we do like to take things at a gentler pace here, and Borko’s beautiful little ferry moves at just the right speed to get our guests in the mood, do you not think?”

 

“Hehe. Indeed it does.”

 

“The hotel reception is just up the pathway. Just follow the lights,” said the manager gesturing towards a paved path flanked by wooden posts, each with a light in it. “The porter will see to your bags.”

 

They all started off up the path, except for Kay who remained on the jetty.

 

“Mr Jens,” she said, “I’d like to stay here a little while and speak with my husband if that’s all right.”

 

“But of course Madame. Reception closes at ten and it will take about half an hour to get you checked in, so if you could join us before nine thirty please.”

 

“Yes, no problem,“ she replied.

 

“What’s up Kay?” asked Steve.

 

“Nothing. I just need to tell you something.”

 

Kay led Steve back along the jetty where pallets of food and supplies were being unloaded from the ferry.

 

“Looks like the food’s going to be good here,” remarked Steve as he walked past and they headed on to the small hammerhead at the end of the jetty. “But the reception doesn’t sound very efficient. What kind of hotel takes half an hour to check in to?”

 

Kay sat down on a large wooden box full of lifebelts and beckoned Steve to join her. She looked at the ferry and wished it would hurry up and get unloaded. She wanted it gone before she told Steve about the place she had brought him to. The first stars were starting to appear in the darkening sky and sheltered from the dying Bora, a warm stillness settled around them, with the sound of gentle waves lapping under the jetty mingling with the calls of the crickets in the cypress trees. Steve sat down beside his wife and put his arm round her.

 

“What’s so important that you need to interrupt the manager’s well-rehearsed greetings ritual?” he asked.

 

“I love you,” she said.

 

Steve kissed her on the forehead and stroked her hair. “I love you too,” he whispered. “And you seem to have brought me to a rather beguiling looking place. A little island paradise perhaps?”

 

Kay looked round at the ferry and was relieved to see ropes being untied as it prepared to leave.

 

“Steve, I’m so sorry. I’ve been deceiving you about this holiday, but I want you to know that I’ve only done this because I love you. Please try to understand that.”

 

“What’s going on Kay? This is all sounding a bit ominous. How have you deceived me?”

 

The ferry pushed off from the jetty and the ‘Put Put’ of its engine filled the air as it chugged past them and headed out into the darkening sea. Kay waited till the sound had started to fade and the boat was reduced to just its stern light.

 

“I’ve brought us here to try to save our marriage. I love you Steve and I want to be with you, but I can’t go on without a sex life.”

 

“Oh not this again. Please Kay, not now. It’s been a long day, I’m tired, and we’ve been through it a hundred times. I just can’t do it. I love you and I can’t treat you the way you want me to.”

 

“Well you won’t really have a choice here.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“This hotel. There’s a reason it’s out on a remote island, away from passers-by and prying eyes. It’s a fetish resort.”

 

“A what?”

 

“A fetish resort. People come here to indulge their sexual fantasies and fetishes, away from a world that doesn’t like that sort of thing, or at least pretends not to. They run a different theme here each week, and this week’s theme, well let’s just say it’s exactly what I need.”

 

“A fetish resort? Did I hear all that right? You mean this is some sort of insane asylum for perverts and degenerates? Is that what you are really? No wonder you didn’t want to tell me, you know how I feel about that sort of stuff and yet you keep trying to drag us down into it. And here was me thinking my lovely wife was treating me to a wonderful surprise holiday, when all along she was really just acting out a devious, selfish plan. Fucking hell Kay, you’ve really got it all worked out haven’t you. Right down to making sure the fucking boat has left before I find out. I suppose we’re stuck here now. Oh well done. What a brilliant bit of scheming. Fucking hell that hurts. That really hurts Kay.”

 

“I’m so sorry Steve.” Kay was beginning to cry. “But I can’t stand it anymore. I need this. You have to understand.”

 

“Oh, I understand all right. I understand that my wife has tricked me into coming to, Christ knows what. A place where she hopes she’s going to make a fucking pervert out of me. No way. No fucking way. I’m not staying here. I’m going to get them to call the boat back. It must have a radio or a phone. You can do what the fuck you like. I’m getting off this island.”

 

With that Steve got up and walked angrily up the jetty towards the hotel. Kay just remained where she was, quietly sobbing. She knew Steve would be angry with her, but she had to do something radical, otherwise their marriage was just going to peter out. She had already decided that if this holiday didn’t kick-start their sex life, and get him to drop his prudish objections to her sexual needs, then she was going to have to leave him and find someone else who would indulge her. And that would break her heart for in every other respect she and Steve seemed made for each other. She sat and she waited and she recovered her composure somewhat. The last of the evening light faded away to blackness and Kay’s world shrank to just the dimly lit jetty and the line of lights that led to the hotel. She wondered if she should go and find out what was happening, but she decided to stay put and wait. The whole island was the resort and there was nowhere else to stay. Steve would come back when he had calmed down.

 

Eventually he did come back. He walked calmly along the jetty and sat down, not on the box next to Kay, but on another box on the other side of the hammerhead.

 

“I had a long chat with Mr Jens,” he said quietly. “Apparently the ferry has a radio, but they haven’t got one here to call it. And the skipper has a mobile phone, but there’s no reception until he’s almost home. They could call, but it would cost me eight hundred Euros to get the skipper to make a special trip at this time of night. And the next scheduled trip isn’t until the day after tomorrow.”

 

Kay said nothing. She didn’t know whether that was good or bad. What she did know was that when Steve started talking quietly like this, it was because he had gone beyond angry.

 

“The manager also told me all about his little resort. Apparently it’s couples only and it’s a strict rule that all the guests participate in the theme of the week. He said it’s like in a nudist resort everybody has to be naked otherwise it sets up embarrassment between those who wear clothes and those who don’t. The people who come here do so because they want to practice their fetishes out in the open, without judgement or friction from others. And there’s no friction if everybody joins in with the theme.”

 

“I know,” said Kay. “That’s why I brought us here.”

 

“Apparently if we’d been here last week you would have had to beat me up because it was ‘dominant ladies and their pets’ week. And next week is ‘bondage and domination for lesbians only’. And the week after that is their pony racing week. I assume the ponies won’t be the four legged variety. And then it’s latex and leather week which they do towards the end of the season as the weather starts to cool down. How considerate. But this week, you do know what this week’s theme is don’t you Kay?”

 

“Yes. I know.”

 

“Come on then, tell me. I want to hear you actually say it.”

 

“It’s ‘lady slaves in straitjackets’.”

 

“I can hardly believe you actually said that out loud. Have you any idea how ridiculous it sounds? And how completely sick?”

 

“I know it sounds stupid, and cheesy, and completely wrong in real life, but it’s just a fantasy. This whole place is just to live a fantasy for a few days. And that’s all I want from you Steve, a little fantasy now and again. I don’t want you to convert the basement into a dungeon and keep me as your sex slave, I just need a little release now and again. An evening a month would be enough. Is that so much to ask? An evening month to be tied up by my husband and maybe spanked a bit, or tickled, or fucked. Is our marriage not worth that to you?”

 

“Well it’s late and I’m tired. And the only beds around here are in that hotel, and it seems like all I need to do to get one is agree to treat you like shit. And do you know, I’m so pissed off at you I don’t think I’m going to find that too onerous. You though, well I think you’re going to find it all very onerous. But then that’s what your deceitful little scheme is all about isn’t it. The ferry is back in two days and when it leaves, I’m going to be on it. And you, you can do what the fuck you want. Until them I’m staying in the room and keeping away from any weird stuff.

 

Kay’s spirits began to lift. The first part of her plan had worked. He had to stay, and he was going to stay. She had two days. Two days to convince him to stay on. Tomorrow he would still be angry, but maybe that anger would help him to be dominant to her. And then when his anger had subsided, perhaps he would understand, and if this place was all it promised to be, there was a chance he could be turned. They got up and walked up to the hotel reception to check in. Kay thought about reaching out to hold Steve’s hand as they walked, but decided not to. There was no romance in the air.

 

They walked into reception and began to check in, which was a little more complicated than in an ordinary hotel. There were some long winded consent forms to sign and Kay’s credit card was charged with a three thousand Euro deposit which would be returned when they left, assuming that neither she nor Steve “caused nuisance to other guests or failed to abide by the rules of the week”. The receptionist then directed Kay to a door labelled “infirmary & dressing rooms” and said that she should wait there for the nurse to see her. Kay looked at Steve, but he was ignoring her and so she went through the door on her own.

 

The receptionist handed Steve a keycard and told him that his room was on the second floor and had a beautiful view overlooking the restaurant and the beach, and that he would have to hurry if he wanted a meal, as the restaurant would be closing shortly. Steve just grunted. He was too angry to be hungry and the last thing he wanted was to be amongst a load of happily eating perverts. Mr Jens, the manager came out of his office and walked over to Steve.

 

“Mr Williamson, if I might have a little word?”

 

“Yes, of course.”

 

“It is, err, not particularly unusual for a couple to arrive here with one partner not being aware of the nature of our little resort, although usually it is the partner who is to be, shall we say, a little restrained who is the surprised one. I am happy to say that on the majority of these occasions, the surprise is a wonderfully pleasant one, but there are times when it is not so positive and I have seen a little displeasure and even anger. Please forgive me, but would I be correct in assuming that you are a little angry with your wife?”

 

“A little angry? No. But if you said a whole lot angry then yes, you would be correct.”

 

“Ah, well it might interest you to know that those who start out angry, more often than not end up having a really good time here. But in the meantime, do I need to be concerned that I have an angry gentleman staying here with a lady who, shall we say, is not going to be well placed to defend herself?”

 

“What? You think I might hurt Kay? You can relax Mr Jens. I love my wife and while I may be angry with her, I would never do anything to hurt her.”

 

“Ah, good. Then we have an understanding sir.”

 

“I think that perhaps I love her too much and I can’t even hurt her when she wants it.”

 

“She is indeed a fortunate lady sir. And she will be a little while getting ready. Please do not feel the need to wait here for her. If you wish to go to your room, I will have the porter bring your wife to you when she is ready.”

 

“Oh, okay, thanks.”

 

“Well, goodnight Mr Williamson.”

 

“Goodnight.”

 

Steve headed through a large double door that led from the reception area to the resort and its accommodation. He was surprised at the elegant and tasteful décor of the place. Polished marble tiles covered the floors and Turkish looking rugs were scattered here and there. White walls with understated paintings, exposed and varnished roof timbers and large potted plants made for a restful and refined ambience. It was a far cry from the gaudy brothel décor he had been expecting. He found their room on the second floor, swiped his card and stepped inside. The room was sparsely but tastefully furnished. The centrepiece was of course, a huge and sturdy looking bed which sat on a thick, soft red rug surrounded by more of the marble floor tiles. An open door led to a sumptuous bathroom and there was a large French window with a balcony beyond. Steve noticed his bag was already here, although Kay’s was not, but more importantly he noticed a mini-bar stocked with drinks. He grabbed a beer and headed out onto the balcony where there was a table and two chairs. He sat down, opened the bottle of Karlovačko Beer and tried to relax. The sound of people chatting and drinking, along with quiet music filtered up from the under the canopy of an open-air restaurant below him. Beyond that, illuminated by a couple of floodlights was a small beach with the blackness of the sea beyond. The air was warm and still, and all around was the sound of crickets and the smell of the cypress trees. For a perverts’ sex club, it wasn’t actually half bad.

 

The first bottle of Karlovačko disappeared in just a few minutes and Steve was well through his second when he heard a knock at the door and a voice said “Porter sir.”

 

Steve travelled a lot for his work and often stayed in hotels. The sound of a porter at the door usually meant his bag or room service was being delivered. His tiredness and anger, plus the sudden and speedy intake of alcohol caused a sort of autopilot to engage within him, and he got up and pulled out his wallet to get a tip ready. He quite forgot that this porter was not bringing a meal, but was bringing his wife. Except of course she wasn’t supposed to be his wife this week. She was supposed to be his ‘lady slave in a straitjacket’. The sight that greeted him when he opened the door stopped him dead in his tracks.

 

Like most people, Steve had never actually seen a straitjacket in person, but the occasional sight of one in a film or on TV had created a picture in his mind as to what one looked like. A grubby, white sack-like and bulky jacket that held the wearer’s arms folded across their chest in long, baggy sleeves. But the thing that Kay was wearing bore little resemblance to his pre-conceived image. For a start it wasn’t white, but black. It looked to have been made from leather which had been perforated with hundreds of tiny holes to make it more breathable. Her arms which were encased in snug fitting sleeves were indeed folded across her lower chest, with her hands wrapped around the sides of her ribs. Resting upon this balcony of forearms were her naked breasts; naked because the hem of the jacket ran straight from armpit to armpit leaving everything below uncovered and on display, except for a strap that dived down between her breasts and then divided into two and disappeared round to her back. The jacket rose into a snug fitting, tall and stiff looking collar around which a wide strap was fastened with a metal ring at its centre, and from this ring a chain leash ran to the porter’s hand. Above the collar, Kay’s lovely face was distorted by a large, red ball that was strapped tightly into her mouth.

 

“Your slave and her bags sir,” said the porter, breaking Steve from his paralysis.

 

Steve shook his head in amazement at the sight of his wife, now reduced to a helpless fetish doll, but he still couldn’t manage to say anything.

 

“You like the bags inside?” asked the porter.

 

“Err, yes. Yes please,” replied Steve, finally finding his voice and moving out of the doorway to allow the porter to enter.

 

The porter walked forward and as he did so the chain leash pulled tight and Kay was forced to follow him. He put down the two bags he was carrying and held out the handle of the leash to Steve.

 

“Will there be anything else Sir?”

 

“Err, no. No thanks.” Steve lifted his hand to take the offered leash, and the porter saw the money he held in it.

 

“No tips. Is not required here,” he said. “Good night Sir, and Miss.” He turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.

 

Steve and Kay stood and looked at each other. There wasn’t much else that Kay could do. Steve let go of the leash and it swung down to hang between Kay’s breasts.

 

“What the fuck have you had done to yourself Kay?” he asked. “Is this what you wanted?”

 

He began to walk around his motionless wife, looking her up and down from head to toe. Her elegant, shapely legs, perched atop a pair of high, stiletto heeled sandals that he knew she had bought specially for this holiday. The beautiful curve of her bottom, bare and on display. Her naked breasts, framed all round by the jacket and her folded arms. Her erect and pointed nipples and her neatly trimmed pubic patch. She was a bit more than just skimpy bikini-ready down there. From behind her he examined her bondage. The jacket came a little lower than at the front, but it still barely covered her shoulder blades. It seemed to be closed by three straps riveted at the shoulders which were buckled across a stout looking zip, although it was hard for him to see clearly as Kay’s long, curly brown hair obscured much of the back of the jacket. Below her hair, Steve could see the ends of the sleeves hugging Kay’s sides, and the substantial strap that joined them with a buckle. Above this, another strap ran between her upper arms. As Steve walked round in front of Kay again, he noticed another small strap that fastened her forearms against her chest, the buckle of which sported a tiny padlock.

 

“Aren’t you just really snug and secure then,” Steve said with more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “You getting off on being done up like this are you?”

 

If Kay hadn’t been so nervous and worried about her husband’s reaction to her bondage, she might indeed have been getting off on it. As it was, she just stood still and absorbed his less than enthusiastic comments, whilst being extremely grateful for her gag, as it saved her from having to argue or justify herself. She knew that if she could speak, they would just end up quarrelling with each other and that would just ratchet up Steve’s anger. To avoid this, she had wanted to make sure she couldn’t talk at all, and had asked for the biggest ballgag the hotel had. The ‘nurse’ had tried her with three inch one, but had said it was too big for her to wear for any length of time and so Kay had agreed to go with a two and a half, which, when the strap was well tightened was still big enough to stretch her lips snugly around the ball and prevent anything more articulate than ‘mmmm’ at various pitches and volumes.  And so she just stood in her new and sexy sandals while her husband walked around her, his anger at her hopefully not preventing him from getting an erection. He stopped in front of her and looked into her eyes.

 

“I suppose you’ll be wanting me to take that thing out of your mouth,” he said.

 

She looked back at him. No, that was absolutely not what she wanted. She shook her head quickly and urgently.

 

“No?” said Steve. “I read the rules. You don’t have to be gagged in the room, only in the public areas.”

 

She kept looking back at him, widening her eyes in an attempt to indicate she understood.

 

“You want to stay gagged then? asked Steve.

 

Kay nodded her head as enthusiastically as the collar of the straitjacket allowed.

 

“Suit yourself then. I’m not sure I want to hear anything you have to say anyway.”

 

Steve turned from his wife and went back out onto the balcony where his beer was waiting for him on the table.

 

Kay was left standing alone in the room. She let out a little sigh of relief. The moment she had been dreading most of all, the moment when she presented herself to her husband in her bondage, had passed without a marriage-ending showdown. He was mad at her, but he would mellow and then there would be a chance for her to work her sexy, womanly and slave-like charms on him. Things were actually as okay as they could realistically be. As she stood alone she had the opportunity for the first time to really explore her bondage. She had seen pictures of the jacket she would have to wear in the brochure and so it was not a total surprise, but she was unprepared for just how completely it held her. The strap between the ends of the sleeves pulled her arms one way and the one between her biceps pulled them back the other. The result was that she could barely move her arms at all. The strap around her forearms that pinned them to her chest just finished the job of immobilising her completely. She couldn’t even wiggle her fingers because her hands were held too snugly against her ribs. The other surprise was the collar. It was so tall and stiff and whenever she moved her head away from looking straight ahead and slightly upwards, it dug uncomfortably into her jaw or neck. If the main challenge of this holiday was to convince her husband to respect her needs and desires, and save their marriage, then the secondary challenge of coping with the bondage was not going to be much easier. She stood, and she wriggled, and she wondered if she should have asked for a smaller gag.

 

Kay stood for as long as she could bear. She wondered what to do next. Steve was showing no signs of moving from the balcony. She thought about just climbing on to the bed and going to sleep, but that didn’t seem very productive, and she surprised herself by thinking that it would be rather presumptuous for a slave to just go to bed without permission. If she was going to be a slave for the week, she had better start thinking like one. She wondered what a slave should do in this situation. She should try to please her master of course, and make amends for making him angry. But how? She couldn’t exactly cook him a nice meal or iron all his shirts. Sex would be possible, although obviously not a hand job, but he would still be too angry to get it on with her, and if she hassled him it would just make things worse. She decided that a good slave would go to her master and show her affection and remorse for upsetting him in a quiet and dignified way. She walked slowly out to the balcony.

 

The first thing Kay noticed when she got out onto the balcony was the sizeable huddle of empty beer bottles on the table. She noted another, half full one in Steve’s hand. He continued to stare out into the darkness beyond the reach of the hotel’s lights. Kay looked at the empty chair on the opposite side of the table to Steve. She reckoned she could easily pull it back from the table with her leg and sit down on it, but then what? They could sit and glare at each other in silence? No, she had to show her affection and submission. The marble tiles looked hard, but Kay decided to kneel down on them beside her husband and keep her eyes down until he made the next move.

 

The tiles were indeed hard and uncomfortable to kneel on, but Kay stuck with it. To get up and walk away just wouldn’t be right. She waited for what seemed like an age before Steve eventually lifted his hand and began to stroke her hair.

 

“I’m mad as hell with you Kay,” he said shakily. “But I still love you to bits.”

 

Kay looked up at Steve and saw that he was crying.