Cute Girls

Spice Plantation Ch. 04

Spice Plantation - Ch. 4

When we finished the food, I carried the tray back to the kitchen, dumping the garbage and putting the rest into the dishwasher. Judy was right. While I enjoy cooking and while Judy and I have spent several interesting evenings preparing semi elaborate meals, this convenience form of cooking left a lot of additional time for more interesting activities.

When I returned to the bedroom, Judy had built up the fire and put on her wrist and ankle cuffs again. She was lying on the lounge and when I entered she moved her arms above her head and spread her legs, ready to be tied down. “You really like being tied while I read this, don’t you?” I asked.

Judy looked almost embarrassed. “It seems to turn me on more. If you don’t want to, just say so.”

“I certainly wasn’t complaining. I just don’t want to get you too cramped or anything. I plan on taking you back downstairs again later. As long as you’re comfortable, I love having you like that.”

“I’ll tell you if I start getting too stiff. On the other hand, if you get stiff I’ll be in the right position.”

“Your mind really seems to be on one track today, doesn’t it. Right track, I’ll certainly admit, but definitely on one track. OK, Lover, let’s tie you in place.” I attached her cuffs to the rings built into the lounge, making sure she wasn’t stretched too tightly. Then I spent a couple of minutes stroking her body and teasing her a little. I noticed that when I lightly pinched or sucked her nipples she winced slightly. They were probably still pretty sore from the nipple clamps, but when I asked, she told me to go on.

At last, turning off all the lights except the one I was using to read by, I opened the journal and began to take us back to 1921.

————————————————

February 27 (Seven Day)

Today is the seventh since my arrival, but I can truly say I feel like I have been here much longer. I have never felt so satisfied with a job or the people I have worked with as I do here. Not to mention the working conditions. All the people I have met are wonderful - both the workers and the staff. Sometimes when you meet a new person you immediately feel either a distinct like or, on the other hand, a distinct dislike, with no particular reason. Sort of “I do not like the Dr. Fell, the reason why I cannot tell …” Usually a few people out of each score I meet will strike me one way or the other. But here I have immediately felt a great bond with each of the staff members and to a slightly lesser extent with most of the workers. And, more strangely, not one person I have met has “rubbed me the wrong way.” Perhaps this is because we all - at least the Westerners - seem to be kindred spirits. (The thought just struck me that several of them - Che, Mai-quan, Ly-mei, Tami, Susan - have, indeed, rubbed me exactly the right way!)

Especially Susan. She and I have spent the last three nights together. I realize that in the strange Wonderland in which I now live the rules are somewhat different and men and women do not group only as one fixed pair. I’m sure that both Susan and I will sleep with others - Susan made that clear early on, after all - but for now neither of us has wanted to bring in anyone else. That first night at her hut we slept very little. The next two in mine resulted in a little more rest but we still made love four or five times each night. I have never met a woman like her.

The plantation has its own work schedule. Instead of the standard week, work here consists of seven days of work followed by three days off. Today is the seventh as the day I arrived was the first of a new work period. Since everything seems to revolve around this schedule I have started noting the day in this journal. Perhaps surprisingly no names have developed other than the rather bland One Day, Two Day, and so on. Perhaps this has to do with von Holt’s Teutonic mind.

I have been thinking about what to do with my days off - or maybe, more correctly, exactly how to go about doing it. Either way I want to spend as much time as possible with Susan. Work finishes at about four this afternoon, so maybe at lunch I’ll ask her what we might do this “weekend.” For now I’d better get back to the details of cinnamon production.

Later

At lunch Susan and I went down to the beach by ourselves. We weren’t trying to avoid others, but they just didn’t feel like a swim today and we did. I’m just as happy it worked out like that because it gave us a chance to have “dessert” after we ate. Two weeks ago the idea of making love on an open beach in the middle of the day would have seemed outrageous, but now it seemed only nice, not even very unusual.

As we lay together afterwards, I broached the subject of possibly going back up the path to the overlook where we had first made love. I suggested we might take a picnic supper and go there when work ended at two.

Susan propped herself up on one elbow and looked directly at me. “This is your first “seventh day” here, Alex. Has Nate or anyone told you about what happens right after quitting time?” I shook my head. “Well the time right after work is designated as “punishment time.” I’m sure Nate told you that we administer our own justice here.”

This time I slowly nodded. “He did, but he didn’t give me the idea it was a common occurrence. I thought there was almost never a discipline problem.”

“There isn’t really,” Susan replied. “But we do have regularly scheduled punishment sessions and everyone attends. Today I believe there are five whippings scheduled.”

I was completely taken aback. Surely there couldn’t have been five serious offences in the time I had been here or I would have heard of it. Besides the thought of a flogging made me uneasy. I had witnessed one while I was in the army and I had no desire to view another. I said as much and then added, “What did these five men do to rate something like that anyway?”

Susan must have interpreted the look on my face because she reached out a hand to hold my arm and began, “It’s not quite what you think, Alex. Let me explain. First they didn’t do anything that awful. And by the way, only two of them are men: the other three are women.”

I must have really reacted to that, because she gripped my arm tighter and held me still. “Just let me tell you a little before you make a judgment. I can promise you this will not be anything like any flogging you may have seen in the army. Let me think how to explain this.”

She stopped and thought for a few seconds and then began again. “This all started before I got here, but I’ve been told the story. When von Holt first set up this island, he decreed certain punishments for certain offenses. From all I’ve heard there were a total of three serious cases the first year: two thefts and one rape. In each case he had the perpetrator given a dozen lashes and sent away from the island. In the case of the rapist the victim was allowed to give the man another six lashes herself. I have heard she placed these so that they will be the ones he will always remember. After these three cases the workers learned and there has never been another serious crime.”

“However, you have to remember that in many ways these people are not as sophisticated as Westerners. You know about the rather free attitude towards nudity and sex. This doesn’t mean that flirting is unnecessary. One of the ways the men have always tried to impress the girls is by actions which in many places would be described as ‘macho.’ So, anyway, sometime several months after the last real crime several of the men began to ask questions about what would happen if they took something of small value. It took a little while and a lot of questioning, but the man who was general manager at that time finally discovered what they were trying to do. They wanted a situation where they could show how brave they were by taking a whipping that wasn’t really too severe.”

“Well, to sum it up, over the last few years a system has developed. A man will take some small item. Then he will report himself to one of the staff. Everyone knows he will return the item and that he will be whipped. Now, before you get to imagining too many things, the whippings are not severe and no real damage results. We all have become quite adept at using the whips so even the skin is almost never broken.”

Did I hear right? Did Susan not only watch, but actively participate in these sessions? The look on my face as I stared at her must have been easy for her to read. “Yes, Alex, we all take part. You will also before too long. But now just listen. The result of all this is that when a man wants to show off how tough and virile he is, he arranges to be whipped. Afterwards he always gets a lot of female attention. The women soon noticed this and now they also do the same thing. They know that watching a girl get herself lashed will really excite the men. It really is just a fun game to them.”

I was having trouble accepting what she was saying, partly because of the picture I had in my head from that one real flogging I had witnessed. Finally I managed to ask, “And no one really objects to this? They don’t mind everyone watching them being lashed?”

“Quite the contrary. Not only don’t they not mind, they want to show off, remember. Tell me something, Alex. Haven’t you ever spanked a girl?”

I turned a little red. “I’ll admit that a couple of times I have, but nothing like a whipping.”

“I told you this isn’t like a real whipping like I understand they still give out in English courts. We are all very careful so that no one gets really hurt. The staff administers the punishments. We usually take turns and I believe Nate and Joan are doing it today. But everyone - staff and workers - watch. You come with me today and you’ll see. Just trust me, Alex. I am a doctor. I’d never let anyone really be hurt.”

I still wasn’t sure about the whole thing, but I had to admit the idea of seeing one of the native girls bound to a whipping post or such did cause a sort of perverse excitement. Anyway, just after four, Susan came round to my office to fetch me. “Staff usually wear sarongs to these sessions,” she said. “The workers are, of course, nude.”

She led me to a small building in a clearing off the trail to the workers’ living area. I had seen the side trail, but had never ventured down it. Now I saw that in the open area outside the twenty foot square building, were several structures. There were two vertical posts with high cross pieces - the traditional whipping posts. There were also two high horizontal bars, about eight feet off the ground and ten feet long, supported at each end by sturdy posts. And finally there were two other two foot horizontal bars at waist height and four bench arrangements. Each bench consisted of a four by six horizontal beam, padded with heavy canvas. These were about three feet long and supported a little below waist height by slanted legs at either end.

The entire native workforce was assembled in a group around these structures. That is, the entire workforce with the exception of two men and three women. I could see these five back near the side of the building with Joan and Nate. Their hands were bound but from where we were I couldn’t identify any of them. The remainder of the staff was standing in a small group. The entire assembly had the air of a festival or party.

Susan and I waved at Bob and George and the two nurses and then stopped by ourselves. I watched as the two men were led forward to stand under the two whipping posts.. I could now see they were wearing padded leather cuffs around their wrists and also around their ankles. Nate summoned four native men and, widely grinning, they came forward and fastened the victims’ wrist cuffs to chains on the post crosspieces, leaving the two men helpless, stretched so their toes were just touching the ground.

For their part neither of the victims looked really scared, but rather they were all smiles, what I guessed were wise cracks, and other indications of bravado. When the two victims were secure, the four men stepped back and Nate and Joan moved forward between the two posts. In a clear, loud voice Nate named the two men, called out their offense ( they had taken some small tools ) and announced their fate. “Each will be warmed by the cat and then will receive fifteen lashes, and remain on display.”

Nate was holding a cat-of-nine tails with two foot lashes. It looked like the tails were single pieces of flexible leather, about a half inch wide. Unlike the military cat I had seen, these looked as though the lashes were soft leather, well oiled, and not at all stiff and cutting. They would undoubtedly sting like the dickens but probably would not deeply cut into the flesh. As Nate moved behind one of the men and raised the whip, Susan leaned against me and confirmed my observations by saying, “These cats are soft. They sting a little, but mostly just warm the skin up so the whip doesn’t do any real damage.”

Nate began to land blows on the helpless victim. I immediately noticed that this was nothing like the whipping I had seen. For one thing the blows were not nearly so hard. Admittedly they started easy and seemed to get progressively harder, but never really reached a truly severe level. They left the skin red and caused the men to jerk at each blow and sometimes utter a small sound, but they drew no blood at all. For another thing, they were generally applied to the buttocks rather than the back.

After fifteen or so blows Nate moved away from the man and over to the other where he once again began to swing the cat. Then Joan moved behind the first man. She was wearing only a sarong, her magnificent breasts free and exposed, and in her hand was a single tailed whip. This consisted of an eighteen inch wood handle topped by a four foot braided leather lash. The single tail was fashioned of three pieces of leather, braided together, and ending with three inches of each of the separate leather pieces. It also looked fairly soft, but I was sure it would hurt a lot more than the cat had. The look on my face must have indicated just that, because Susan leaned over again and said, “It looks pretty viscous and can do some damage if the wielder is not careful, but just watch. Joan - for that matter all of us - knows how to use it and all she will do is leave a few small welts on the man’s bottom. They’ll be gone in a day or two, but until then they will be badges of honor which will get him pretty much any girl he wants.”

I wasn’t sure how much of that to believe as Joan brought her arm down in a long, graceful arc which ended with the end of the whip crossing both of the man’s stretched buttocks, the three fingered tail wrapping on around his left hip. He gave a small stifled cry and a red line immediately appeared across his bare skin. But he didn’t react with the fear and resentment I would have expected from the victim of a whipping. Instead he grinned in a show of bravado and I noticed that a number of the girls who were watching were giving him very admiring looks.

By the time the tenth lash landed, he was unable to hold back his cries at each strike, but he still did not act like he was desperate to bring the torture to an end. Joan moved away from him and began on the second man, who responded much like the first to the beating. When she had laid ten on the second fellow, she stopped and Nate motioned to the four native men who had helped bind them there. These four came forward and soon had unfastened the men’s wrists and led them over to a place below one of the long horizontal cross beams. As they moved the two men I could see that the lashes had had another effect on the men: both were now sporting at least partial erections. Evidently the stinging lashes had proved to be a stimulation as well as a pain. Two chains were used to attach each man’s wrists to the beam. They were left with their arms widely spread and bound overhead with just enough slack to allow their feet to remain flat on the ground.

While they were binding the men I had noticed that the four workers and the two victims exchanged what looked to be joking or teasing comments. Also during this time several of the native girls had maneuvered closer to the beam so now they were standing only a few feet directly in front of them. The looks and actions of these girls could only be described as provocative as they called comments and moved their bodies in deliberately exciting displays.

Joan moved over near the two men and called something to the girls. One of them called something back and everyone laughed. Still laughing, Joan pointed her finger at the girl who had called the comment and at another girl standing next to her and beckoned them forward. She handed each of them a cat like Nate had first used and said something to them. I looked around at Susan and she said, “Joan’s going to let a couple of them warm the boys up a little. That doesn’t happen often, but just every now and then.”

The two women moved in front of the bound men, swinging the whips - as well as their own hips - provocatively. I noticed that both of the men were still partly erect, their members slightly raised. Evidently the whipping didn’t hurt enough to prevent that and, in fact, even though I didn’t really understand it, seemed to have actually excited them. One girl said something to the man in front of her and he answered back, laughing, almost appearing to dare her to do something. She moved up to him and reached out to cup his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze. Then she backed up slightly and swung the cat so the lashes landed across his stomach. The second girl joined her and began swinging at her victim. Soon the men were again jerking at the blows to their stomachs, chests, and already sore bottoms, and emitting small sounds as the whips struck home.

After a dozen or so strokes Joan called something and the women reluctantly stepped back and handed the cats to Nate, but not before each going forward slightly and giving the man’s balls another small squeeze. Now Joan once again picked up the four foot single tailed whip. She raised her arm and suddenly brought it forward, laying a sharp blow across the buttocks of the man on her right. He gave a sharp cry and seemed almost to dance a few steps as the pain of the stroke dissipated. Then she moved behind the second man and repeated the stroke with nearly identical results. She returned to the first man and laid another stroke on the opposite diagonal as the first. She continued this until each of the men had received another five strokes, bringing their total to fifteen. In each case the final stroke was harder than the previous ones and she aimed them so that the end of the braided portion of the whip landed on the lower cheek with the three short tails wrapping up into their cracks, maybe even striking directly on the anus. That this stroke really hurt was obvious from the reactions of the two men.

As the men hung by their wrists, regaining their breath, the watching women seemed almost to lean closer in their direction though none actually moved. I could see the hunger in their gazes and I thought back to what Susan had said about the men getting their pick of girls. It seemed that this would be very likely.

Now the three women were led forward and I was surprised to see that Tami was one of them. All three were brought near Nate and Joan and Nate again called out their names and small offenses. He finally loudly stated, “Each will be warmed with the cat. Each may choose to either receive ten lashes and be on display or to receive five strokes and be quay-ri.”

I turned to Susan and asked, “What is quay-ri?”

She grinned. “It means, literally, ‘available.’” Then seeing the confusion in my eyes added, “All the victims will remain tied on display for three hours. If a girl wants quay-ri, it means she will be tied in a position where any man who wants can have her while she is there.”

I open the door and ask if He wants me to dry my hair. He calls back yes and so the door is closed and I begin to blow dry my wet, locks. Soon they are curling around my ears and down my shoulders. I play with the strands, lifting them, piling them so they rest on the top of my head and tendrils escape to tickle my freckled shoulders. “Pet?” he calls out to me.

“Yes, Master?” I ask, dropping my hair and opening the door.

“Are you ready?”

I grin and chuckle. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I answer and grab my collar, step out and walk to Him.

He has a smile on his face as he takes in my nakedness. He accepts the collar, secures it to me and the turns me to toward the bed. “One more session, pet then we will go have supper.”

I stare at the bed. The covers are gone. The fitted sheet remains, but on top of it is a web. I notice various rings connect the web of what I can only describe as straps. “Climb on, then lay on your back. Your legs and arms spread wide.”

Once more without hesitation I do as He’s commanded. I move onto the bed, lay flat and spread myself for him. I watch as he approaches. In one hand is a blindfold, the other has more narrow bands of material. My eyesight is stolen from me as he places the silk cover across my eyes, adjusts the tension and then kisses my lips. I lean up and return the affection and whimper when he pulls away. I adore his kisses and want more.

He secures both my wrists and my ankles to the bed. “Open your mouth pet.” Another gag is in place. There is no ball. Instead I feel the metal ring with my tongue as it is settled behind my teeth. My pussy tightens as I recall the various pictures of women with this type of gag in their mouths. I look like them now. The only thing missing is the cock that is plummeting in and out of their orifice. My Master will, in time, give me his cock. He will, when he is ready, fuck my face again. I am forced to wait.

“You wanted to try many things. Didn’t you, pet?” I nod my head and then hear the soft hum of something close to my ear. “This is the wand we discussed.” Behind the blindfold my eyes are open wide. Master cannot see this, but I know he senses my fear and jubilation. “You mentioned your curiosity to me, remember?” Again I nodded. “I told you I had experience in this and you told me it was good that I did, because you wanted to try it.” Another nod. “The charge is low. You can’t give me a safe word, since you are gagged. So you must trust me to read your body. Do you trust me, pet?”

I screamed “yes” in my head, but only the vigorous shaking of my head answered my Master’s question. If I didn’t trust him, I wouldn’t have been there. “Very good, pet.”

There are no more words from Master. I feel the first spark of electricity dance through my areola. I squeal from the shock, not from pain. Just as quick the sensation is gone and in my mind I analyze the feeling. It reminds me of static electricity. A quick jolt, almost so fast you can’t experience the true potential. Taking a deep breath, I listen to the sounds in the room, trying to determine when and where he will strike again. The second shot of energy courses up my spine as he places whatever tool he has against my hip. I jerk away as the power surged through me. Again it is gone before I knew it. This time however he allows the current to flow a second or two longer than before.

“Okay pet?”

I nod my head. Another shot of power slides across my sex. I spasm and toss my hips one way then the next as Master holds the device against the top of my mound. I feel the bites of electricity scatter their way throughout my system. The feeling is both painful and euphoric. I shudder and moan against the gag in my mouth, bucking wildly. I shake and shudder. He continues to hold the device to me. I whimper and jerk madly. He whispers in my ear, “Too much pet?”

I shake my head no. I hear the excitement in his voice. I know he is aroused by the pain and pleasure I am experiencing. I want to make him proud. He removes the device and I shiver at its loss and its welcoming abandonment. Just as my breathing calms I feel his mouth slide over my pussy at the same time the electricity shoots through my breasts. My nipple seems to burn, but the heat of it is erotic as it spreads through the fullness of my bosom and then my entire system. My hips rise to thrust into Master’s face. I feel his tongue and teeth sweep up and down my sex, coating me with his saliva and his hot breath.

My moans of pleasure are distorted because of the circle gag; I ride Master’s face and embrace the sparks of energy that coat my skin. They bring tickles of sensation to the surface, where they exploded out and continue to cover me. I feel fingers push into my cunt and I shudder again. Over and over the low hum of the wand fills my ear. The showering feeling of energy cascading through me, mingled with the pleasure of my Master’s thick fingers and experienced mouth, bring me to a climatic release.

My hips rise up. My ass is suspended. My back is arched. My head is thrown back. I come hard for Master, coating his face, delivering him the hot juices of my sex. I am at a loss for thoughts and words. Nothing that makes sense bothers to present itself to me as I lay quivering and shaking, my Master’s face buried between my thighs. The wand has been forgotten, Master tossing it, I assume to the side. His breath seems to move from my cunt to my belly. His tongue I feel sweep up my torso. The sandpaper texture wraps around my right nipple; his fingers toy with the left one. He soothes the flesh of my breasts, licking and sucking his way up to my neck, where he nuzzles my flesh and bites tenderly at my pulse. His mouth covers mine just as his cock slides into my throbbing home.

Master moves in and out of my slick pussy. I am nothing at the moment. My mind and body aren’t cooperating with each other. I feel my sex tighten around his shaft, welcoming him, but in my head. . .my thoughts are chaotic. Stars still seem to dance around in circles. Colors of the rainbow still flow behind my closed lids. The silkiness of the blindfold is lost to me as I welcome the darkness it gives. I open my eyes, breathe in the scent of our mating and sigh. His voice reaches me and I begin to respond with a new desire, one that he’s meat is coaxing from me.

Soon I match him thrust for thrust. My fingers clench into fists and I thrash under Him as he drives harder into me. His breathing is ragged. He’s moans and grunts of pleasure are more drawn out. I feel him inside me, jerking and shoving, pushing deeper. My clit rubs the curls of his sex. His balls slap against my ass and I grip the gag with my teeth. All of a sudden his cock is out of me. I whimper, sounds of frustration poor from my throat, then I feel him.

His knees are on either side of my torso. I picture him above me. His slippery dick held above my tits, neck, face, open mouth. I come from the image just as hot sticky fluids land on my neck. I feel his come fall into my open mouth. The circle gag keeps my lips and teeth spread wide. He moves, I feel him leaning more into me. In my mind I see him stroking more seed from his dick and filling my mouth with his come. I welcome it. Every ounce is a gift I hunger for. I swallow the mouthful of seed, welcome the heat of it as it slides down my throat. There is a soft wet slap against my cheek and I know he’s about to use my skin to dry his member. I lean into it, wanting every drop of his moisture to cover my flesh.

When he is done with me, the bed shifts from his movements. His fingers glide over my skin, up my arms where he releases me. The muscles are stiff. I flex them, before dropping them to my chest where they lie on my come-covered tits. He releases my ankles. I bend my legs, flexing those muscles as well. The light surprises me and I clench my eyes, the blindfold is tossed away and my lips are claimed by Master.

I push myself up, drinking from him, drinking in my own flavors. I swallow and clean his mouth of all my taste. “Tha. . .Thank you,” I choke out, before I roll into him.

He wraps me in his embrace, kisses the top of my head and whispers, “This is only the beginning my pet. . .only the beginning.”

Terrance pulled back and shot load after load of sticky cum on his tongue and James swallowed every drop. He looked up at Roberta as she smiled sweetly down on him. Terrance removed the strapon and fondled Roberta as only a lover could as James watched with jealousy and envy. Roberta instructed James to lie on his back and jerk off that poor excuse for a cock. He did as he was told; not needing much stimulation to get reach and orgasm, his level of arousal was at an all time high. She kicked him gently in the side as he moaned out more from the stimulation than the discomfort as she stepped over his head. She squatted lower and for the first time in his life, James saw the pussy of perfection that had filled his dreams. It was more exquisite than he had imagined and he could smell her sweet essence in the air. He longed to lift his head up and taste her but he knew he would not be allowed. He was stroking his cock and staring up into perfection when he felt the first drops of piss splatter on his face, He moaned out loud and opened his mouth as the delicious golden piss rained down on him. He swallowed hard and jerked off harder. He could hold back no longer and cum shot out of his cock like molten lava.

Some time during the early morning hours, he was kicked out of the home with a brown paper bag that held his clothes; he was naked and smelling of Roberta’s piss, his balls drained and his body full of Terrance’s cum. He had no money or credit cards in his wallet and he couldn’t call a cab. He had to rely on someone to come pick him up. “Hello, Jessica. I’m really sorry about last night. I need to ask you a really big favor.”

I landed blows on her back and legs, across her flanks and onto the taut globes of her hanging breasts, even catching a nipple with a snapping leather end a couple of times. Twice I stopped and used my fingers to penetrate her tunnel, wetting them with her flowing juices, and then pushing a slick finger into her rear hole. Then I finally delivered a dozen really hard strokes to her unprotected ass before dropping the whip and moving behind her to push my rigid cock into her hot and waiting pussy. I stroked in and out only two or three times and then pulled out completely, bringing another groan from the bound woman. I quickly added a blob of KY to the end of my already slick member and immediately began to push it against her puckered rear hole.

As you might imagine from my description of her, Judy’s rear is incredibly tight, but her tremendous muscle control let her relax herself so I could push inside. The first time we tried anal sex it was new to both of us and I took a long time warming her up and penetrating. We discovered we both loved this activity and since then had gone the “back door route” a number of times and Judy had learned to relax herself at will. Now I slid in to the hilt in one long slow stroke. It was still an incredibly tight tunnel, but that was totally under Judy’s control as she clamped down hard enough to produce unbelievable pleasure for both of us. I held myself fully embedded for at least a whole minute and then began to move in and out. Judy was also using her muscles to increase our mutual enjoyment and I could sense her arousal increasing by the second. After a dozen slow, long in and out strokes Judy suddenly gasped, “Now, Paul! Fuck me. Fuck my ass hard.” At that encouragement I lost any inclination to go slowly and rammed myself in hard and deep and both of us immediately started to come.

A few minutes later I kissed her back one more time and slowly removed my shrinking tool. I released her from the vault but left her cuffs in place. As soon as she was free, Judy turned and put her arms around my neck for another of those wonderful full body kisses. This almost had me ready to take her again right then, but I brought myself under control and we both ducked into the bathroom for a few seconds to wipe ourselves clean.

When we came back out I pulled the leather lounge over near the fireplace. This is a custom built piece, leather covered and wide enough for both of us to lie on at the same time. We have to lie pretty close, of course, but that’s certainly not a problem. The lounge leaves us half lying, half sitting. I arranged Judy on her back on one side and fastened her wrists to the frame behind her head. I spread her ankles and anchored them at the foot. This left her open and available and before I did anything else I stopped to suck on her nipples until both were standing out, swollen and hard. Then I ran my tongue across her stomach and swirled it around her belly button.

I added another log to the fire and arranged a small reading light. Then I took the journal and settled on the longue beside my beautiful captive where I could both read the book and casually stroke, caress and tease her bound body. I intended that this was going to be a long night. The wind blew the snow hard outside the curtained windows as I opened my uncle’s journal and began to read.

—————————————

January 14, 1922.

I may really have done it today. We had a meeting this afternoon of all the so-called executives. I had spent the morning with three foremen trying to straighten out a problem on the line and was in a bad mood anyway. I was late for the meeting which I knew was going to be a waste of time. It was supposed to be about some advertising policy about which I really had nothing to say and I needed the time to work on real production problems. If I couldn’t get these solved, there wouldn’t be anything to advertise at all. I went straight to the meeting without bothering to get my coat, tighten my tie, or even roll my sleeves back down. My hands probably even still smelled of fish. Of course I know the president has a real problem with managers who do not dress as he expects, but I was too tired and harried to care. Then to make matters worse, when I came into the meeting - late, as I said - Mr. Campbell stopped everything and just looked at me. “Need a little longer to get ready, Alex?” he asked in a sarcastic tone.

I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t seem to help myself and answered, “No, sir. I’m ready.”

Everything seemed to freeze for several seconds and then Mr. Campbell just gave me a hard look and then went on with the meeting. For the rest of the time he acted as though I wasn’t there at all. I’m afraid I had better start looking at the want ads again.

January 15.

Well, my guess was right. When I got to my office this morning, there was already a message that Mr. Campbell wanted to see me. This time I did take time to make sure my appearance was up to what he would expect, but that was no help. He didn’t beat around the bush at all, but gave me my walking papers with only a couple of sentences of comment. I doubt if I will get a favorable recommendation. In fact he told me to clean out my desk and be gone by noon.

Later

Perhaps there is some balance in the universe. After I left the factory - before noon - I went to the Laird’s Inn for a bite to eat and perhaps a pint or two while I could still afford it. I also needed to think about finding another job. As I sat down, Millie, the barmaid, came over and said, “Oh, Mr. Alex. Such luck that you would come in today. The gentleman at the table over there was just asking after you. Someone told him you might be found here or at least maybe he could learn where to find you. But now that you’re here, I’ll just tell him.”

Before I could ask anything else, she was gone and a few seconds later the man in question came over and asked it he could join me. I watched as he approached me. He was not tall - about five foot six - and had the look of someone who usually worked with books and papers. Still, he was well built and in good condition, with a smooth stride, well muscled, and not at all fat. Most striking was his deep tan, not something that was common in wintertime Britain. He stopped next to the table and said, “Mr. Alex Robertson? I’m Nathan Clark. A Mr. Fred Hill recommended I get in touch with you. Do you mind if I join you and buy you some luncheon?”

Freddy Hill was an old army mate of mine. We weren’t really close and I had last seen him here in this inn about eight months ago. I had no idea why he would recommend me for anything, but my curiosity was aroused - not to mention that until I knew where or even if I would be working, I didn’t mind having someone else buy my food. I stood and shook hands with Mr. Clark and invited him to sit.

We ordered food and drink and when Millie had gone I finally said, “Well, I certainly want to thank you for the meal, Mr. Clark, but I have no idea how I might help you or why Freddy would recommend me. In fact, I don’t know what he seems to have recommended me for.”

Mr. Clark smiled and replied, “You’re most welcome Mr. Robertson, but it may be that it is I who can do something for you. I happened to meet Mr. Hill in Rome a week ago. You see, I’m here on a combination of holiday and recruitment mission. I understand you are a production manager for a salmon canning factory. Correct?”

Not wanting to admit that my stint in this position had ended an hour earlier, I merely nodded. He went on. “I work as the chief accountant and business manager for a plantation which produces spices and some teas. We are looking for a general production manager to replace the man who will be leaving. Our requirements are somewhat unorthodox and Mr. Hill seemed to think I might find you to our liking. From what I’ve been able to learn already, I think you just might be. Let me tell you a little about our operation and ask a few questions to see if you might be interested.”

I nodded again. I was certainly interested in at least listening to him. Working outdoors in a climate which obviously was a far cry from Scotland’s cold and wet winter would have held my interest even had I still been employed. As it was, it seemed as though it might have been fate which brought Mr. Clark into my world. The only thing which really concerned me was that if Mr. Clark went around locally and asked questions about me, he might find that I had held four jobs in the last eighteen months and had been let go from each of them. In each case there was never a complaint about my work - in fact, quite the opposite. The problem was that I could not stand the artificial rules placed on me, such as the coat and tie which had caused my most recent dismissal. I am a very independent minded individual and one might even say a non-conformist. I have given serious thought to relocating in the United States or Canada, as I have been led to believe that, especially in the western parts, such behavior is not uncommon or resented. (I have also heard that the women are somewhat more relaxed and non-conformist in those areas.) I can follow rules when there is a reason and did so in the army enough to earn three stripes on my sleeve and ended my tour as a sergeant. However, silly rules and such nonsense rub me the wrong way. That’s why I also lost three stripes in the army, even though I did earn them back each time.

“Go right ahead, Mr. Clark, I’m interested. However, it might be easier if you called me Alex.”

“Thank you, Alex. And I’m Nate. Well, as I said I work on a spice plantation located in the south Pacific Ocean. The plantation occupies an entire island which is about twenty square miles in extent. The plantation is owned by an ex-German named von Holt. We assume he has a first name but no one has ever heard it. In fact, we suspect he even awarded the ‘von’ to himself. He was born in Germany, but left the country when he was only two and has never been back. He has no feeling about the war and holds no opinions either for or against either side. In fact, the island itself is probably owned by the French. I say probably, because there is some dispute in the region between the Dutch and the French, but surprisingly neither country seems to much care. Von Holt gives a sum of money each year to both the French and Dutch factors in the area and neither involves himself. That area of the world is somewhat isolated to say the least. Even though many of the areas are nominally owned by France, Germany, Netherlands, or even Britain, no one pays much attention to the home countries. In fact, for all we saw in our small area of islands, the Great War might as well not have taken place.”

This statement really surprised me. There were a great number of men, myself included, who would like to forget that the Great War ever took place. We couldn’t. Many of the things we saw will be with us forever and I can only hope they fade with time. A place that had ignored it sounded more desirable than Eden.

He sat back and hesitated a second. Finally he said, “I should explain that Herr von Holt is a somewhat unusual man. He owns the plantation in its entirety along with the entire island. He is the only government which has sway there and can decide everything from work assignments, to hiring and firing, to civil and criminal justice. But he is far from a draconian despot and is actually a rather enlightened ruler. Some of his rules may seem strange, but I assure you that you will find none of them unpleasant.”

“The plantation labor force is exclusively from the native population of one of the neighboring islands. This place was only discovered by Westerners about thirty years ago and the people there have lived for centuries in a near paradise. Unlike some of the island tribes, they are not at all war like and get along mostly on fishing and gathering of the native fruits and vegetables. They are a pleasant, relaxed people and might even be described as somewhat child like in their attitude of wonder and play towards the whole world. But they are actually very intelligent and industrious and make excellent workers. Mr. von Holt offers them generous - in fact, much more than generous - wages and compensation and provides excellent living accommodations and food. He provides medical care and even runs a school to teach his workers to read and write. He does have certain work requirements, but all the workers know of them before signing on. There is never a labor shortage and never any complaints about his treatment of them. There are also several Westerners as supervisory staff. Myself, the General manager, a doctor and two nurses, a teacher, and two mechanics. Mr. von Holt himself is rarely there and satisfies himself with annual or semi-annual visits. The General manager and I pretty much run the place.”

“If you are interested in the position and if I decide you are the man we want, you will be offered a four year contract, renewable at mutual agreement.” He then named a sum that was four times what I was getting in Glasgow. And, I realized, there would be no taxes or travel, food, or housing expenses. It sounded far too good to be true.

He asked and I assured him I was at least interested. Then he smiled and said, “Now I’m going to ask you some questions and try to get your attitude on a few things. There are no right or wrong answers, so just try to tell me what you really think. As you can image we want someone who will really fit in with the plantation, and I will admit we have a few - call them ‘quirks’ - that I’ll tell you about if we come to an agreement. Don’t worry, if they bother you, you will still have a chance to back out.” Now I was really getting curious. What sort of place was this? It already sounded like a private kingdom, but just what did this von Holt have going on there. I agreed to answer him truthfully and waited for his first question.

“What would you say if you were required to wear a formal uniform for work each day?”

He had hit one of my personal red flags. Sure, there were no right or wrong answers. I thought I saw the whole wonderful opportunity going up in smoke, but I answered, “I’m not sure I could agree to that. I can’t stand formal clothing.”

I was surprised when Mr. Clark nodded to himself and smiled. He didn’t seem at all put out by my reply. “All right. What about religion? Do you have a problem with working with people of differing religions?”

“Not at all. I was raised as a Presbyterian, but I’ll admit I’m not very faithful. I’ve worked with Catholics and Jews and even a couple of Arabs. What a man believes is between him and his God. It’s not my place to tell him what to think. I don’t care if a man is a pagan as long as he doesn’t try to force me to be one.”

Again Nate nodded to himself. “As I said all of our workers are native islanders. All are young - generally between about eighteen and thirty. We hire only single workers, both men and women. Tell me Alex, what is your opinion of sex?”

I nearly choked on my ale. Of course in the army the subject came up all the time, but in a job interview? How was I supposed to answer that? Then I decided I might as well say what I really thought. “I guess you mean between the workers? I’m not one to look down on anyone for doing what nature seems to have designed us to really enjoy. I don’t give a fig if they’re married or not. The only place I’d draw the line is if one of them didn’t want it. I don’t hold with rape in any form and I don’t care if the woman is an island native, an English Lady, or even a Hong Kong prostitute. I will admit I have enjoyed my share of the young women of France during the war, but I never forced, bribed, or threatened my way. Most of the lads in the army felt the same way and the few times I heard of someone forcing himself, it seemed he usually met with an accident and spent some weeks in hospital.”

Nate smiled at my enthusiasm and said, “I agree. But I was asking even a little broader. For example, what about activities between those of the same gender or among groups of more than two?”

Again I was surprised, but managed to swallow my drink without choking on it. “I feel sorry for such men. They can never know the full rapture available to the rest of us. But I have no animosity towards them. As for the second part of your inquiry, I will admit to once in France enjoying the bed of two lovely young mademoiselles. I was told that such things were not too uncommon in France and after that night I can certainly see why. I’m not sure our British girls are so open minded.”

“Are you offended by nudity?”

Where was he getting these questions? “Nate, I spent three years in the army. You must know that the sight of other men in the shower and so on is not unusual. If you are referring to female nudity..” I stopped for a second and smiled. ” …then I’m only offended by it as much as by a beautiful sunset. I would not be unhappy if most women - at least the young, pretty ones - rejected clothing whenever possible.”

Nate smiled at my somewhat flippant answer, but seemed satisfied. “All right. One more question. Mr. von Holt is firm about some crimes, such as theft or destruction of property or rape. They are very rare, but he believes in immediate punishment and if necessary the offender will pe punished and sent home immediately. As I told you, Mr. von Holt is the sole administrator of justice. If you were General manager you might find it necessary to carry out such duties. Do you feel you could?”

“I already told you how I feel about rape. As to the others, you say he is generous with the workers, so there should be no excuse for theft. I believe I would have no problem enforcing those rules.”

“Very well, Alex. I will telegraph Mr. von Holt tonight and should receive a reply by early tomorrow. I can’t promise anything yet, but I think things look very favorable. Perhaps we could meet here tomorrow at, say, six for dinner and perhaps discuss a possible contract?”

I still wasn’t sure any of this was real, but I wasn’t going to walk away. I know I’m a good manager and this plantation sounded like it might be a place I could work without being tossed out in three months. “Certainly, Nate, and I look forward to it. I think this might work out to the advantage of both of us.”

January 16

I spent the day in my flat looking through the want ads in case the dream I experienced at lunch yesterday might not work out. At a quarter of six I left for the Laird’s Inn and as I entered, two minutes before six, I saw Mr. Clark already seated at a table in the corner. I started towards him and when he noticed me he stood and smiled and waved me on over. From the look on his face I felt my hopes grow. “Good evening, Alex. I won’t keep you waiting. Mr. von Holt agreed so I’m prepared to offer you a contract at the wages we discussed yesterday. But let’s order dinner first.”

My head was swimming but I still managed to order supper and an ale. During the day I had checked and my bank balance was a princely sum of twenty-seven pounds, eight. The wages Nate had mentioned yesterday would dwarf that in no time. Especially if I didn’t need to pay for room or board. I hoped there wouldn’t be too much in the way of special clothing or anything and I also wasn’t sure how I could pay for a ticket to reach there - wherever there was.

Nate began to go over the details once again. The contract would be for four years at the wages he had discussed. There would be a house - not just a room, but a small house. All meals were included. Not only that but he already had a steamship ticket for Singapore, scheduled to depart on the twenty-sixth of this month. Ten days! Our meal came and we began to eat. Nate informed me he would be returning on the same ship so I wouldn’t have to find my way alone.

Tags: Fetish, Story