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Beach Bound
by Rope Lover
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© Copyright 2017 - Rope Lover - Used by permission
Storycodes: M/f; bikini; bond; rope; handcuffs; leash; susp; spreadeagle; breast; outdoor; bdsm; caning; teased; buttplug; insert; oral; denial; sex; climax; cons; X
jpn
Beach Bound Rope Lover M/f; bikini; bond; rope; handcuffs; leash; susp; spreadeagle; breast; outdoor; bdsm; caning; teased; buttplug; insert; oral; denial; sex; climax; cons; X
 

It's a lovely warm Summer's day, just past the heat of the mid-day sun but still with hours of sunshine to bask in on this idyllic island retreat. The air seems to hang heavy with no breeze and you can feel the heat rising from any open ground or beach.

It's a fairly long drive to the cove we have found but it is so far off the beaten track that it seems no one ever ventures there, hence guaranteed privacy. No car tracks, no litter and there's the inviting shade offered by the trees only 50 metres from the shoreline.

It might all be down to misinterpretation on my part but I’m convinced you have been flirting with the local waiter and need to be reminded of your place. Wearing a long flowing cotton dress over your bikini clad figure we start on the drive but stop after only a short distance in a deserted car park facing the sea.

A beautiful relaxing view but that's not the purpose of the stop. I instruct you to hitch up your dress and put your legs together. Ankles are bound together first then another rope binds your knees together passing above and below your knees. Cinch ropes are added to secure the bindings. It would be too unkind to tie your hands behind your back considering the long journey ahead but you are not to be allowed free movement.

It takes some manoeuvring to accomplish but with persistence you are roped to the seat of the car with several passes around your stomach and the back of the car seat. Another rope passes above and below your bosom and around the car seat. Knots are at the back of the car seat well out of reach. Still not satisfied that you have the option to wave your arms about, your elbows are tied to the rope around your stomach area. That's pretty. Forearms and hands free to move but to no effect. You can't reach any knots, you can't reach your mouth to take a drink or chew a sweet. You are totally dependent on me for sustenance, safety and your forthcoming punishment.

You protest the ropes are visible to anyone who may look. That's true but the seatbelt serves to hide those around your stomach and a towel draped over your shoulders and front looks like you are just shading from the sun. Of course the function of the seatbelt as a safety restraint is completely redundant given the way the ropes hold you still.

Our journey continues to the deserted cove, amazing scenery lines the route and there's little traffic at this time of day, but the car's movement on the uneven roads serves to rock you side to side sufficient to make the ropes bite and remind you there's no escape. Once at our destination I leave the car but open your passenger door to let some fresh sea air in. From the boot I return with a drink for us both. Judging just how much to tip the glass so you can drink without spilling the water over you is a skill that's slow to learn. Your dress becomes wet and clings serving to emphasise where the ropes are holding you fast.

I explain that you will be allowed out of the car once you are untied but that restraint and punishment will be meted out throughout the remainder of the afternoon. Your ankle restraint is removed as are the ropes holding you to the car seat. You manage, with help, to shuffle around and get your feet out of the car so that the rope can be replaced around your midriff and your elbows secured there again. Again with some help you are helped out of the car to hobble and hop along to the beach area. A fairly ungainly sight waddling along bound as you are at the knees and elbows.

It's a welcome relief for you when I help to lower you to the soft warm sand. You're comfortable for the time being but what's to follow you wonder?

The sports bag that has been brought with us contains all manner of toys and restraints. How that lot got through airport security without being searched heaven knows. It’s time to deploy some new goodies. First out of the bag is a transparent glass butt plug. It’s a monstrous looking thing with a bulge at the end (to prevent it being dislodged) and ridges down the sides. At the other end is a "ring" for passing a rope through.

Lifting your dress gives access to get your knees untied. Next you bikini bottom is removed. Now you are manhandled over onto your tummy and your legs pushed apart to receive the butt plug, Of course it's getting lubricated to make entrance that bit easier so relax and think of England as the saying goes. Push your bum up more, that's better. Try not to resist! With persistent twisting and pushing it is entering, just a few inches more and suddenly we are past the point of resistance. Try pushing if you like but that bulbous end won't allow you to eject the beast.

However, just to be sure the loop of a rope is passed through its ring and brought up to a few inches above the base of your spine. Now roll onto your side. Quicker please or suffer a swift slap or two to your bottom! The ends of the rope are now drawn forward and tucked deep between your pussy lips. Carefully measured to sit about your belly button, the rope is knotted and the ends passed around your waist, pulled tight and fastened to the loop at your spine. One last little touch, so you are not lost at sea, another length of rope is fastened just above your crotch to the one passing between your legs. Now you are dressed for a dip in the sea. Butt plugged, pussy squeezed by rope, elbows still secured to your waist rope and a lead to pull and control you by!

Helping you up from your knees you are led to the ocean’s edge. The water is warm, tropical warm, and the lapping waves caress as you are led deeper and deeper into the sea. As you get to pussy caressing level you are made to pause so I can watch your reaction as waves slap your pussy and stretched rear entrance. As each wave hits you rise on tip toes. Is that to avoid the sensation or enhance its effect, I wonder. Looks like you are enjoying it too much so time to venture deeper. By the time you have reached breast drenching level your whole flimsy dress is wet and clinging like a second skin. It's easy to lose your balance in the swell and flapping forearms do little to stabilise you. But my hands grasping your breasts through the material of your dress and bikini top ensure you are safe and stable.

Time to retreat to the shore, but with a pause at wave-slapping-pussy level.

We venture into the wooded area further up from the beach and the coolness offered by the dense wooded canopy provides relief from the direct sunlight. It's much quieter here. OK time to prepare you for your next stage is it to be ordeal or orgasm?

Your elbows and waist binding are released, your dress removed as is your bikini top. Here's your only opportunity to run away with just a butt plug to grind away at you and the effect of ropes rubbing pussy lips. But no, it seems you are happy to accept what follows. Don't forget the safe word is always there to use.

Sports bag at our side, your wrists are brought to your back and the pink handcuffs are applied. I take rope from the bag and return to the ocean to soak it. “Now lean forward please”, I instruct you so your breasts hang down. Wet salty rope wrapped around wet mammaries. That does look erotic. Tighter and tighter creating a firmness that tingles. And of course as the rope dries it will shrink and increase the pressure, not to mention that the salt from the sea water will add a little abrasion too if you struggle. Oh yes you will be here long enough for all the rope to dry on you!

Being amongst all these trees and branches offers so many bondage opportunities. Which to go for? A little suspension I think. The rope from each breast is taken up to branches that are six feet apart, so each breast is pulled upwards and somewhat to the side. You think to yourself if this is the best that he can manage I can stand this for hours.

But a rope attached to each ankle suggests there is more in store. I walk away from you taking one rope with me. Standing about ten feet in front of you and to the side I pull the rope and you are forced to take some steps forward. The more I pull the rope more you have to move until you cannot maintain your balance and are forced to lean back until the tension in your breast ropes takes the load and prevents you falling backwards. Then I secure the rope to a tree trunk. I approach you again and take the rope attached to your other ankle. Again you are pulled forward and your legs stretched apart as that rope too is tied off to a tree trunk.

Now you are in a predicament and this will not be comfortable for hours. With your pussy lips spreading I kneel before you to adjust the ropes squeezing your clit so the end is just teased free. That's so appealing and inviting it begs to be kissed, licked, sucked and toyed with.

So, questioning time begins. Why did you wear such a revealing outfit to flash at that waiter? You know he couldn't take his eyes off your tits and he nearly threw the soup he was carrying over a guest when he tripped? You protest it was just the next item from the wardrobe.

Not an acceptable answer. You need a little punishment to help you amend your ways and provide a deterrent to any waiters looking at your assets.

THAT wooden spoon from our kitchen at home has come with us too! Yes, and its target is those ripe swollen tits.

Spoon in hand, convex side towards the target area, are you ready for this dear lady? One, two, three smart smacks to the top of your right breast. It never ceases to surprise you how using the spoon that way creates a reddened area around the impact point but leaves a white point where the spoon strikes.

Wriggling to avoid the spoon wasn't the greatest idea was it? Just served to pull on both your tits more. The lustful look in my eyes suggests I would like to just bury my head into the stretched mounds of your tits to suck, nip, lick and bite them. But I’m determined to pursue your interrogation.

Three more stinging slaps to the same spot on your left breast this time. “See how kind I am” I say, “I remembered this side is more sensitive so I let it come second in the punishment rota”.

If those marks bruise by the end of the day that should provide a deterrent to any eyes staring wantonly at your generous tits. Or at any rate may make you keep them covered up.

How's the butt plug feeling? Nice and tight and full in there? A slap from a flat palm over the end of the plug makes you jump. “Is that because of surprise, pleasure or pain?” I ask. I decide to continue slapping and testing until I can judge what emotion it evokes. Standing to your side I can see your face and commence the hand-to-butt-plug slapping. How many slaps and how hard until I notice the effect on you? Five? Ten? Twenty and still counting!

I complain my palm is stinging and comment that your arse cheeks are red, no very red. I tell you, “I know it’s hot but that amount of perspiration on your forehead and chest implies the effect I am achieving is more arousal than punishment. Would the spoon change that if I delivered blows to your rear cheeks”?

But I stop and decide to be kind by wiping your brow, offering you a cuddle and caress, and giving you something to drink. The sight of the way the ropes about your breasts and the way they are uplifted is more than I can bear without having a suck on the nipples. “Oh they taste good, your body has a beautiful taste and it's mingled with the salty taste of the ocean”, I tell you. I grasp a breast with both hands and squeeze until you complain. Then repeat the torment on your other breast.

I go behind you and lift you forward from the inclined position you are forced into by the ropes. It eases the tension in your boobs and I run my hands all over your stomach, chest and breasts. I pause abruptly and go to the sports bag to return with sweet scented massage oil mixed in a luxurious carrier oil has become warm, but so much the better to massage into every part of you. I work from your shoulders, down your back, over your arms, then still standing behind you but leaning into you I work all your front. Neck first, then breasts, then stomach.

We are both sinking into a mutually relaxed state. But I snap out of it to remind you this is your punishment session. I push you forward a little then suddenly let go. You fall backwards again and the ropes jolt your tits upwards and outwards accompanied by a yelp from your lips. For a second, third and fourth time you are pushed forward only to be "dropped" again. Each time your tits gain a brief respite as they fall to a near normal position before being yanked high and wide.

I move in front of you and kneel. With oiled palms and fingers a forefinger plays over your clit and draws out letters and words over the lips over your sex. More oil in my palms they move to work on your thighs but not before my lips find your clit to fondle and suck as I massage around your thighs then move on over your calves.

You try to pull away undecided if this is a teasing pleasure or a tormenting torture you have no control over. Unable to resist I wrap my arms around you to grasp your arse cheeks and pull your pussy into my face and mouth. I can even finger your butt plug from this position.

You have been roped and stretched out "St. Andrew's Cross" style for over 45 minutes and I’m still not sure you are taking this punishment seriously. I explain that of course I expect others to look at you lasciviously because you are a damn sexy woman. But the point is you shouldn't go flaunting your charms to the whole world if you and I are truly in the committed relationship I demand.

“If you want to flaunt that's fine; I will walk away”, I say. “But if you want me to stay then you behave accordingly. Understood”? You reply, "Make me", with that wry smile and glint in your eye I begin to think I have been the target of a total wind up. You have deliberately engineered this whole situation to get me doing exactly what you wanted all along.

You are left alone as I walk off deeper into the woods. Silence pervades. You become concerned, how far has he gone? How long will he be gone? Will he come back?

Your breathing quickens and you pull at all your bonds and wrist cuffs. Nothing gives. You begin to sweat. Relax you tell yourself. If he has really gone when might someone come and find you?

Branches crack behind you and hands reach around and slap your nipples. "Where the hell did you go you demand". I reply, "Only a few feet away I just wanted to watch you". But I have returned with a broken off thin branch about 3 feet long. It's more like a thin wispy twig. As I sit in front of you slowly striping the leaves from the implement, leaving just a few coarse stumps where the leaves have been pulled off. You know from past experience that a thin implement like that stings far more than a thicker one, and the welts it leaves rise and give way to striped bruises.

I comment that your pussy looks very wet and test the fact by stroking the new implement back and forth between your legs. With a little more pressure applied and still stroking like a violin bow it works it's way between your lips and coarsely antagonises your clit. Your own movements to try and avoid the intrusion slowly change to become a deliberate riding of the implement to gain your own pleasure. So I withdraw it and you try to grip it to prolong the sensation but fail.

"Well", I say. "This is where your plan comes off the rails and you DO get punished". Standing at your left side and squeezing your left breast with my left hand you hear a cutting whistle and flinch. "Just testing the air" I tell you. The next whistle precedes a burning cut to your arse. You try to scream but the pain is so intense all your body does is to involuntarily gasp for air. "Like the good old school days six of the best is called for", I inform you.

Before you can protest a second cut strikes and your buttocks contract and quiver. I adjust my position so the very end of this whip like instrument will end up on your right buttock. Several tests by stroking to very the impact point are followed by another whistle and searing pain. The thin end has whipped round to inflict an immediate welt and bruise.

"No thongs for you on the rest of this holiday, unless you want the world to see what's happened to you", I advise. And actually the thought is quite exciting to you, to show off what you have endured and perhaps even enjoyed. Yes you have engineered this whole scene and it is delightful, but damn it hurts just now.

Recognising your need for a break in proceedings I caress your stinging arse with some of the massage oils. Oh that helps. Then I turn my attention to massaging your swollen breasts before reaching a hand down to massage down there. Deep kisses, kisses where tongues lock with tongues and explore every crevice of each other’s mouths are accompanied by a finger reaching into you. Then two fingers, then three. Rolling, stroking, pressing and being still, then repeating again and again bring you to the brink. As your body tenses ready to go over the top I stop.

Just three more lashes and you can be released. A mirror image of your last three strokes with me on your right side this time. My right hand has a firmer grip on your right tit. With no respite three lashes in a row fall and you are reduced to a crying limp wreck. I immediately unfasten your wrist cuffs and you reach to comfort your tortured buttocks.

Almost unaware of what's happening or how it was accomplished your breast ropes have been released from the branches above and you are lowered down onto a blanket. As you recover your breath and senses your realise you have not been released after all, it is just your situation that has changed. Your breast ropes have now been laid across the ground, pulled tight, and fastened to more tree trunks. Your wrists are bound, stretched over your head and tied off to a tree somewhere out of you sight. Spread out like a stranded starfish the drying ropes and sea salt are indeed now biting into your tits.

Standing over you with an admiring and loving look on my face I lower myself down and whisper in your ear, "You are now going to be fucked senseless my dear". With all your limbs outstretched and inviting you can't refuse. Your ears are nibbled, your neck kissed and caressed. Your nipples sucked and pulled. As I adjust my position to kneeling over you your breasts are slapped several times. Mouth and tongue work into your pussy and you rise to enhance your pleasure. So slow it's tantalising, too fast and it can be over too soon.

I stop then enter you with my erection that has been evident throughout the events of the day. Goodness how I can last when you are presented and helpless like this!

As the sun begins to set and all the trappings of the day's experiences are safely packed away, the journey back to the villa can begin.

We are both so relaxed and fulfilled.

Shall we try to find the cove on the other side of the island tomorrow?

….

If you enjoyed this scenario please leave some feedback / comments and maybe take a look at my other stories. And if you have an outline of a fantasy that you would like to see expanded into a story then let me have the details and I will see what I can develop.

Rope Lover.

 

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31.07.17

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