Sunday Afternoon
In the afternoon sunshine at a beach hotel, the majority of the guests are of course, usually to be found on the beach, and this particular beach hotel was no exception. During the morning Steve had not found it too difficult to come to terms with the bondage in their little, private golf group. Here though, amongst a crowd of people, he felt like he was behind enemy lines, a besieged island in a sea of stupidity and appalling misogyny. He pushed aside any thoughts that any of it was actually sexy, or that he himself had taken part in things not so very different when he was young. He tried to quicken his pace to reach the far end of the beach where the sailing activity was based, but was held back by Kay who was struggling to walk on the soft sand in her heels. He tried to avoid looking at the other people on the beach, but he couldn’t help noticing what some of them were up to. Generally there was a theme of men relaxing and straitjacketed ladies not relaxing, or least not very comfortably. Being staked out on the sand with their legs spread wide seemed to be a favourite pastime, but standing over their master with a sunshade strapped to them was not far behind. Near the water’s edge two women were buried up to their chests in the sand, and nearby a game of volleyball was in progress and the posts that held the net up were wearing straitjackets. Steve was feeling extremely uncomfortable and was more than a little relieved to see his new friend Jason over near the boats. In a way, Jason was just as bad as the rest of the perverts on the beach, but somehow Steve felt that his new friend was actually a nice guy who was fun to be around, and so it didn’t matter if he pandered to his kinky wife’s demands. And Steve felt like he needed someone for moral support. He quickened his pace again and tugged impatiently at Kay’s leash.
Kay tried to make some kind of indignant sound, but found that her new gag was much more effective at silencing her than the big ball had been. After her phenomenally successful sucking and swallowing of Steve’s cock, during which Steve said he thought he might actually pass out, such was his penis’s requirement for blood, he had taken her to the bathroom to wash her face, and she had seen in the mirror the complex pattern of tan lines already forming on her cheeks from the ballgag’s rubber bit, its metal rings and the leather strap. Panicking that she would never be able to paint this away with fake tan when she got home, and mindful of the ache in her jaw, she had asked Steve to look in the big chest of “accessories” that the hotel had provided in their room, all of them sealed in plastic bags marked “unused” or sometimes “hygienically cleaned”. As Steve had rummaged in the chest, Kay had seen lots of things that excited her and that she hoped to be sampling before the holiday was out, and he had eventually come up with a selection of gags from which she had chosen a black, leather panel that covered her mouth completely and filled her with a rubber penis. It had seemed somewhat appropriate, being as she was now a qualified cock-sucking slave, and it didn’t stretch her jaw as much as the ball. She also hoped that the lingering image of the simple, wide strap would prove possible to paint away with tan. She hadn’t realised until it was snugly fastened around her head that the inside of the panel featured a thick foam gasket which sealed around her mouth completely, leaving only her nose to make any sort of sound through. At least she didn’t have to worry about drooling in it though.
Beside where the sailing activity was going on, a row of six heavy wooden posts had been driven into the sand. Each one was about three metres high and they reminded Steve of posts he often saw on the shoreline at home, which yachts would lean against while the owners scrubbed and painted their bottoms at low tide. As he drew closer, he could see that Jason was with his wife and he appeared to be just finishing off strapping her to one of the posts. Jason looked over and saw Steve approaching.
“Wouldn’t want her wandering off while I’m out on the water,” Jason said. “Heaven knows what kind of mischief she’d get into.”
Steve was surprised that he actually found Jason’s joke rather funny. He burst out laughing and Jocelyn pouted at him in mock annoyance. Steve looked at her and tried to understand how she could appear so happy, when she was presumably going to be stuck here like that for the afternoon, while her husband was playing on the water.
“What are you doing with Kay while you’re out?” asked Jason.
“Err, I dunno. I never really thought about it. Can’t she just sit on the beach?”
“Not allowed. Got to be fastened to something if unattended.”
“Oh. Shit. I forgot about the bloody rules.”
“Why not just put her here next to Joss? They can keep each other company and gossip all afternoon.”
Steve looked round at Kay. She nodded enthusiastically at him.
“Err, is it safe for us to just leave them here all gagged and stuff?” said Steve.
“Sure, Max, the beach manager and his staff will keep a careful eye on them. You don’t need to worry.”
Steve turned to Kay again. “You’re sure about this?”
Kay nodded as keenly as her collar allowed.
“Okay then. Personally I can’t imagine anything worse than being tied up here while my wife goes windsurfing, but of course it’s what you came for isn’t it?”
“Come on Steve, we’re wasting wind here,” said Jason. “You want a hand to get her strapped in?”
“Yeah, okay. What do we do?”
Jason beckoned Kay over to the post beside Jocelyn’s. He turned her back to it and then lifted her up so she could stand on a wooden block that was bolted to the post about a foot above the sand. He then instructed Steve on how the straps that were already screwed to the posts were done up. First there was one that went around Kay’s neck. It wasn’t tight, but it had two other straps attached to it which ran diagonally down across her shoulders and over her arms to the back of the post. When they were tightened, Kay felt her whole upper body get pressed against the post. There was a wide strap that went around her waist. Then Jason got Steve to fish behind Kay’s thighs until he found a narrow strap hanging down, and that went under her crotch and was buckled to the waist strap. Then there were straps around her legs above and below her knees and at her ankles. Kay felt delightfully secure as Steve stepped back to look at her.
“Now this is of course none of my business,” said Jason, “but that does seem to me to be an awfully mean way to secure your wife.”
“Mean? Is there actually an un-mean way to bind your wife to a post? And anyway, you’ve got Jocelyn done up much tighter than I‘ve done Kay.”
“You’re missing the point Steve. Let me explain.” Jason turned to his wife. “Joss, are you going to get off on being tightly strapped to this post all afternoon?”
Jocelyn nodded happily.
“Okay,“ said Jason. “Now, would you struggle to get off and be very bored if your straps were not good and tight?”
Jocelyn smiled as much as she could and nodded again.
“You see?” said Jason turning to Steve. You’re not thinking like a submissive bondage slut. Slack and comfy doesn’t do it for them, but tight and strict makes them happy. Do you mind if ask your wife a question?”
“Err, no. Go ahead.”
Jason turned to Kay. “Kay, would you like to have all your straps tightened up like Jocelyn’s so that you won’t be bored for the next few hours?”
Kay looked across at Jocelyn and noted how her body was indented by the straps. Jocelyn put on a display of struggling to show just how tightly she was held. Kay turned to Jason and nodded her head until her throat hurt from her collar digging into it. “Mmmmm. Mmmmm,” she moaned.
“See what I mean Steve? You can leave her for hours of boredom, or hours of excitement and pleasure. Now you wouldn’t want to be mean to her would you?”
Steve shook his head and sighed. It was madness, but it was madness with a certain logic. If the point of being in bondage was to get off on it, then it made sense that tighter might be better. He reached up and began to tighten all of Kay’s straps. She moaned happily with each one until he got to her crotch strap.
“Now the way to judge this one,” said Jason, “is to pull it tight until her eyes widen, and then keep pulling till it looks like her eyes are going to pop out.”
Steve pulled the strap and was actually amused to see it happen just like Jason had said. First Kay’s eyes widened, and then they looked like they were going to pop out. He was pulling very hard by then though.
With their women secured, Jason and Steve headed off to find Max and his windsurfing gear. Kay was left reflecting on the wisdom of asking to be bound so tightly. The crotch strap felt like it was going cut her in two. She realised she was moaning softly and wondered if she was in agony or ecstasy, or both. She looked around her as much as she was able. The strap around her neck held it and her head tightly against the post. Combined with the stiff, tall collar of her jacket, the result was she could hardly turn her head. She wanted to look at Jocelyn and make eye contact with her new friend and companion in bondage, but she could only see her properly by pushing uncomfortably against her collar. Kay could hear Jocelyn moaning softly into her gag too and she wondered if at some point in the afternoon those narrow little straps that were cleaving them in two, might drive them both to cum together. It seemed strange to be up so high off the beach and she felt remote and separated from it, perched on her tiny ledge that she couldn’t fall off. She pulled at her straps to test the limits of her captivity. It was as she suspected: she couldn’t move. Any one of those straps, combined with her straitjacket would have rendered her immobile, the whole lot together rendered her almost inanimate.
The wind blew across the beach and Kay judged it to be about force four, but it looked stronger out on the water, easily a five, perhaps a six. The sun picked out the whitecaps and she felt the frustration begin. She watched Steve walk down to the water with a staff member carrying a board and rig for him. Kay read the size of his sail, a six point two meter, and she guessed the board to be moderately sized, maybe a hundred litres or so. The bastard! How could he go out and leave her like this after all she had done for him earlier? She watched him wade out till he was waist deep. He showed the sail to the wind and it lifted him up onto the board which sank down at the back under his weight. He wobbled, but stayed up and the wind drove him forward. The board rose up and Steve pushed himself up on his toes and dropped his harness into the boom loops. He stepped towards the back of the board and into the toe straps. He leaned into the wind and drew the sail above him, hanging from the boom by his harness, the wind and his weight in perfect balance. The board sped forward and rose up out of the water onto the plane, and he shot off across the bay. Kay was beside herself with envy. She berated herself for coming to such an unfair and stupid place where the wind blew like this and only the men could play in it. What kind of sexist, Victorian nightmare was she in, where the men had fun while the women could hardly move? She wound herself up and relaxed her knees to get some more weight onto her crotch strap. Agony or ecstasy? She knew which one it was.
The sight of Jason heading out from the beach with a five point nine meter and a noticeably smaller board ratcheted up Kay’s indignation. She tried to shout out, and the rubber penis in her mouth, a replica of a man silencing her, seemed like the final insult. She had been in bondage for seventeen hours. Seventeen hours of constantly feeling horny as hell, and it was about to come to a head, right here, in public, strapped to a post on the beach. The crotch strap bit into her most sensitive parts relentlessly, yet it refused to cooperate in her quest for orgasm. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get it to rub. So unfair! The injustice drove her on, like the wind in Steve’s sail, but just as she thought she could take no more and was about to explode, her little world of pleasure was intruded upon and the distraction put her orgasm on hold.
Bustling over to hers and Jocelyn’s posts was a rather chubby man in a rash vest, shorts and a grubby looking baseball cap. In a thick Yorkshire accent he was berating the woman whose leash he was pulling for holding him up and keeping him off the water. The woman was very tall and very thin. She had long, straight, blonde hair and teeny, tiny breasts. She was wearing the regulation straitjacket and silenced with a black leather gag not unlike Kay’s. The reason she was holding the man up was not just because she had unsuitable footwear for walking on a beach, but also because she was blindfolded with a sleep mask. Ignoring the two already secured women, the man pushed his slave’s back against the next post and lifted her onto its ledge. He held her in place while he fastened the straps and heaved them as tight as he was apparently able to. Kay winced as he seemed to put all his weight into pulling the woman’s crotch strap tight, and she wailed through her nose as he did so. Kay guessed that the wide eyes test wasn’t very good if a blindfold was involved. The man shuffled off towards the sailing toys, leaving his woman wriggling and panting and making strange grunt-like noises.
Interrupted from her world of injustice and indignant arousal, Kay looked out to see how Steve was doing. He and Jason were both well away to her right, riding the wind that was blowing through the gap between the two islands. She felt her envy start again and she began to try to push herself back into her half-fantasy and half-reality world of unfairness, repression and slavery. But for some reason it wasn’t working now and for the second time that day she was left hanging, coiled like a spring and not able to release herself. She pushed her head uncomfortably round to look at the newcomer. She had quietened down now and stood there taking quick, shallow breaths. Kay looked at her blindfold and wondered whether it would be more, or less frustrating to have her sight taken from her as well as her speech and her ability to move, while her husband went off to play.
“Good afternoon Ladies.”
A man’s voice broke Kay from her contemplation. She looked in front of her to see a man wearing a tee shirt with the hotel logo on it.
“If I could introduce myself, I am Max and I am the beach manager. I and my staff will be looking after your masters while they’re out on the water, and rest assured we will make sure they come back to you in one piece. Now if you ladies need anything, like more sun cream or water, or you’re having trouble breathing, or you can’t feel your toes then just call. MMMM, MMMM, MMMM. Okay? Groups of three. If you just moan away constantly we’ll just assume you’re having a good time, but groups of three and we’ll come to help. Unfortunately we can’t help if you just want to go for a walk, but you know how it is.”
With that, he looked them over and went back to his boat and board duties. Kay saw the man who had left his blindfolded blonde next to her, heading out on some sort of trapeze equipped skiff that looked like it would be an exciting handful in the conditions. She so desperately wanted to be free of the post and her jacket, and be out there on the water, but somewhere deep down, she was glad she was not.
There is one thing that everyone who indulges in being pushed across water by any kind of sail will agree on. The wind is never perfect. It’s either too strong, or too light, or too gusty, or it’s in the wrong direction, or it has kicked up waves that are too steep, or for those of us who sail in Britain, it’s just too full of rain. A land based observer might wonder why it is that so many people spend so much of their time and money chasing such a fickle and un-cooperative ally for their pleasure. The answer of course is that when it comes to the wind never being perfect, never does not strictly mean never. Occasionally, very occasionally, perfection is achieved. And when this happens, the joy it brings makes all the disappointments and frustrations melt from the memory, and leaves us in love with our boats and boards.
And in no branch of the many types of sailing sports is this more true than in windsurfing, for while a human being sits in a boat and drives it, on a windsurfer the human being is part of the boat. An integral part of the structure without which the mast falls down and the board flops in the water like a dead jellyfish. It’s like the difference between driving a car and riding a motorbike. And when it all comes perfect on a windsurfer, is there any better feeling in the human condition?
This was the big question that was kicking about in Steve Williamson’s mind as he skimmed across the perfect water, driven by the perfect wind. For the second time that day Steve was experiencing perfection. The previous time had been less than two hours ago when his wife had swallowed his cock and milked him dry in their hotel room, the balcony of which he could see right now as he neared the end of his run across the bay. He could also see the beach and the row of posts, where Kay was currently strapped up and gagged, in between two similarly bound blondes. What must be going through her mind as she watched him out here was something beyond his comprehension. A movement above her caught his eye and he saw someone fly over the beach, riding that cable just as he had done earlier.
He began to set himself up to gybe. He pulled himself up and unhooked his harness, feathering the sail as he did so to spill the wind. He brought the mast forward and dug the edge of board into the water with his feet to make it turn away from the beach. As the wind came round behind him he steadied the board, flipped the sail round, drew the mast back and pulled in the leach. The board spun back towards the wind and Steve sank down under the sail and let it take his weight. Held up out of the water only by the wind in the sail, he accelerated back across the bay. A perfect gybe completed and another perfect reach across to the other island to come. Which was better, to be blown across the water by this wind, or to be blown away in a hotel room by his wife? He hadn’t decided yet.