Spice Plantation Ch. 06

My mind was in a kind of haze but her words somehow penetrated and I restrained myself from driving forwards as hard as I could. I'm sure it was all for the better that way - for me as well as for Susan. As my instrument slid slowly into her rear tunnel, I felt her warmth engulf me, her muscles gripping me more tightly than I would have dreamed possible and with a corresponding feeling of pleasure I could never have imagined. I pressed slowly forwards as my length began to disappear inch by inch into her wonderful bottom. Susan writhed and twisted, arching against me, pressing herself backwards in an effort to aid her impalement. Neither of us was silent, our moans and gasps filling the air.

At last I was embedded as deeply as my shaft would allow and I held myself there, pressing against her firm flesh, still hot from the spanking. Then I slowly began to withdraw. The slide out was as wonderful as the reverse had been and when I neared the limit I again changed and began to press inwards once more, encouraged by explicit demands from Susan that I do exactly that. Before too long We were driving back and forth against each other, her strong muscles producing a feeling of pleasure unlike anything I had ever experienced. After a few minutes - or a few hours? - of this I could wait no longer and fortunately neither could Susan. I shoved myself in to the hilt and grabbed her hips, pulling her back tightly against my groin. Even as I began to spurt my juices into her bowels, Susan cried out and began to wildly convulse in climax. I held tightly to her, keeping myself embedded as deeply as possible, so her actions primarily resulted in even more intense stimulation to the both of us.

At last we began to calm and I relaxed my grip on her body. Susan lay still on the blanket, her hands still bound in front of her, but as I began to pull back slightly I felt her muscles give an involuntary squeeze, attempting to hold me within. Then she let her ring relax and the feeling as my now super sensitive tool slid past her muscles and emerged once again into the real world left me shuddering.

I untied her hands and we lay together, our hands lightly caressing each other, and let our breathing return to normal. At last Susan turned to me and kissed me. "That was wonderful, Alex."

I stammered something in reply and then asked, "You really like it?" She nodded and I continued. "You don't think it's perverted or something? And it's not really dangerous?"

Susan let her hand lightly touch my face. "No, Alex, there's nothing wrong with it. Where is the harm?" I had to admit I couldn't actually think of any. She went on, "It must be done carefully to prevent injury, let the body adapt to the intrusion, but otherwise there's no danger. Of course, you need to wash before we do anything else to prevent any infection. You should probably take the cloth from the pack and do that now. But as long as we're careful there's no danger and the sensations it produces are rather incredible, aren't they?"

I nodded dumbly and finally said, "I never imagined anything could be like that. You're a doctor so if you say there's no danger, I believe it. I'll admit I've never done anything like that before. In fact, I've never really thought about it. But it was unbelievable. I would not be adverse to trying it again sometime."

Susan laughed, the sound like tinkling water once more. "I'm sure we will. We can't too often or I might get a little sore, but don't be afraid to suggest it." Susan took the cloth from my hand and finished washing my member.

Susan and I stayed in our spot all night. We made love several more times, falling asleep for periods and awakening again filled with lust. When I awoke once I found that the sun had risen and was well above the horizon. We made love a final time and then, almost reluctantly, made our way back down the trail where we shared a shower - Have I ever changed in the last few weeks! Sharing a shower with a woman in a communal bathhouse. Then we headed to the kitchen to find some breakfast before catching a couple of more hours sleep.

March 10 (Eight Day)

After lunch Susan and I went down to the beach area we use for swimming. We found Nate and Joan and the two nurses already there and joined them. Over the new few hours we all spent time swimming, lying on blankets in the sun, and mostly just talking. No one even commented on Susan's and my absence the previous night, even though I'm sure someone must have noticed. Part way through the afternoon George and Bob joined our group.

As I have said, when we swim - and, for that matter - when we are just lying around relaxing on the beach, no one bothers to wear even a sarong. I am surprised by how quickly I have adapted to spending time in mixed company nude, but by now I don't even find it in the least bothersome. I also enjoy the view and it appeared that the women are equally entertained by looking at our male bodies.

Another thing about which I still am a little confused. As might be expected when a group of relatively young men and women spend time naked in close proximity, there was a lot of touching, kissing, and feeling of a sexual nature. No one ever seems to be in the least embarrassed or bothered when these "demonstrations of affection" occur. Even when a member of a "couple" like Nate and Joan begins to play with someone else, there never seems to be the least animosity on anyone's part. I have accepted this even though I don't really understand why. I was at first surprised when Susan even pushed me towards other women - as she had with Tami that first punishment session - but I have found that she bears no jealously whatsoever. Even more astounding to me, I have found that when, as this afternoon, someone else - in this case it was Bob who first did it - when someone else begins to kiss or caress her, I felt no real jealously myself, despite the fact that I am coming to believe I'm falling in love with her.

The normal rules do not seem to apply here. And when Bob's attentions began to become more intimate, his hands and tongue beginning to explore the more private portions of her body, I still felt only happy about the pleasure he was bringing Susan. And when Deborah moved behind me, pressing her nude body against mine while letting her arms wrap around me, her hand caressing my partly excited member, I turned to her not with any idea of getting even with Susan, but rather merely in the expectation of the pleasure our activities would bring us. Soon Joan and Nate and Deborah and I were all down on the blankets making love while the other four were nearby, watching and doing some teasing of their own. I - and I am sure none of the others - felt anything expect pleasure and joy. As I said, I don't really understand it, but I have come to accept it.

March 11 (Nine Day)

Last night was another first - perhaps the most unexpected of my stay here.

The staff ate together and then broke up, going in different directions either singly or as couples. Susan and I sat for a while talking and watching the sun set over the sea. As dark began to fall the conversation turned to the punishment sessions. Now that I think about it, I believe Susan deliberately steered it in that direction. But, regardless of how we got there, at some point I asked about what was inside the punishment shed. "I know you must keep the whips and such there, but that's a pretty big building. There must be something else in there."

Susan laughed. "There is. Sometimes - especially if the weather is bad - punishment sessions are held inside. Would you like to see it?"

Of course, by then I said I would. We stood up and began to make our way along the path, turning when we neared the area where I had watched the - yes, festivities is the right word - where I had watched the festivities the day before. The building was dark, but Susan led me up to a door and inside. There were some windows high up, but not enough light to really see anything. "Wait here a second," Susan said. "I'll light some gas lights."

In a couple of minutes she had ignited several of the wall mounted lamps and their glow illuminated the large space. I looked around and was only a little surprised to see a number of devices similar to those I had observed in use outside. There were a couple of vertical posts with high crossbars - whipping posts - along with a number of various kinds of benches, usually padded and with rings and straps for binding the victim. Chains hung from the ceiling in several places and there were some waist high bars obviously for bending a victim over. A couple of tables, a large X-shaped cross, and a few other unidentifiable items completed the furnishings.

There were several cabinets along one wall and Susan led me over. She began opening doors and drawers and showing me a variety of cuffs, straps, chains, and other binding devices along with a truly vast collection of whips, crops, straps, switches and other flogging instruments.

I picked up a cat of nine tails and let the leather strands flow across my hand. Almost too quietly to hear I asked, "What does it feel like?" Then I shook my head and added, "I mean, I know it hurts, but it also seems to excite. I guess I still don't really understand."

"That's not really surprising," Susan replied. "It's something completely outside your usual experience. Everyone is curious when they first see these things. You know from watching the two sessions that what we do here is not really awful or anything and that everyone involved gets some pleasure from it. But it's not just the sting of the whip. Part of what makes it exciting is the helplessness. You saw me yesterday. I couldn't use my hands and that really excited me."

She looked over at one of the whipping posts. "Imagine yourself there, your arms pulled high above your head, bound so you can't move them. You're stretched up on your toes, the muscles along the backs of your legs stretched taut, while you wait for whatever is to come. Doesn't that idea excite you?"

I realized I was breathing slightly faster. "I'm not sure. I think it does, but I still don't see why."

"Look. Let me tie your hands to it and then you can tell me what you feel." I wasn't sure I wanted this, but on the other hand, I wasn't sure that this wasn't exactly what I did want. My mind was mixed up, but I had to admit the picture of being bound helpless was having an effect I would never have imagined.

Susan took my silence for acquiescence and moved to pick up a pair of the leather cuffs which she started to buckle around my wrists. I was almost ready to pull my arm back, but the first touch of the leather unexpectedly sent a shiver up my spine. I let her apply the cuffs to my wrists where I found them actually quite comfortable. Susan then led me over to one of the whipping posts. This was a pole, about five inches in diameter, set vertically and reaching a height of eight feet. About seven feet off the ground was a cross beam two feet or so in length.

Susan moved a small block of wood over to the base of the post and had me stand on it. She then used chains attached to the ends of the crossbeam to pull my wrists high and apart. When she had the cuffs secured, she moved the block which left me stretched and not quite able to keep my feet flat on the floor.

I have to admit that the overwhelming helpless feeling which I experienced somehow seemed to excite me sexually. I could feel my member begin to harden under the sarong and the exposed skin of my back felt super sensitive to even the slightest of air movements.

Susan moved up beside me and let her fingers trail down from my armpits, along my ribs, to my waist. I shuddered and Susan said, "Well, Alex, what does it feel like?"

"I'm not sure," I replied. "I'll admit it excites me, but I can't really say exactly what I'm feeling."

"It can be a unique sensation," Susan said. "Being stretched. All of your body available for whatever your captor wants to do."

A ripple of movement and excitement went through me again, but just then I heard voices and the door to the building opened. I didn't know who was coming in, but I didn't want to be seen like this. However, there was nothing I could do to alter the situation and Susan, instead of releasing me, turned towards the voices and called out, "Come on in. I think he's about ready."

Confusion seemed to fog my mind. I twisted my head around towards the door and saw Nate, Joan, Deborah, and Jenny entering. They approached and spread out around me and I'm sure I turned bright red despite the many times over the last days I had spent with them, often naked. Jenny reached out an ran her fingertips down my chest and then bent over to lick at my nipples. Deborah took my firm cloth covered member in her hand and gave it a squeeze through the sarong. Then I heard Nate say, "Well, I see you seem to have everything under control, so I'll leave you girls to it. Just don't ruin him for work day after tomorrow." With that cryptic admonishment Nate turned and left the building.

Susan moved around in front of me so I could look at her. "Alex, I think I told you that all the staff participate in administering the punishments. But before anyone ever delivers the first stroke of a whip, he or she must experience being on the receiving end. We decided that tonight would be a good time for your ... initiation. Tonight the four of us are going to work you over, Kawi-Kawi. You will get to experience a number of different things." Then she leaned close to my ear and said so quietly that no one else could hear, "Just relax and enjoy it, Lover. If it really gets to be too much, just say 'red'. OK?"

I managed a numb nod and Susan stepped back just as Joan said, "Don't you girls think he's a little overdressed for this?" Amid a chorus of agreement she reached forward and pulled off my sarong, leaving me completely naked.

The strain on my arms was quite strong but I suspected I would be in this position for a while. The four girls moved over to one of the cabinets and soon returned, bringing with them a selection of whips, crops, and paddles. I looked at the instruments and felt myself begin to sweat. Susan was holding one of the cats used to "warm" the victims before the punishment sessions. She approached me swinging the tails back and forth.

I stared at the swaying leather strands as she neared, my eyes following the mesmerizing movement. Susan stopped about two feet in front of me and looked directly into my eyes. "Just flow with it, Lover," she quietly said. "You're going to like it."

I was not at all sure she was correct in her estimation of my response. The long leather tails looked like they could slice my skin to ribbons. I trusted Susan not to really hurt me, but I still felt this whole thing might be a lot more than I really wanted. Imagining such a thing might be really arousing, while the actuality might provoke an entirely different response. Susan again looked into my eyes and then, still swinging the cat slowly back and forth, she moved around behind me, out of my field of vision.

Deborah and Joan were still in front of me where I could see them looking intently at my bound form and I think Jenny was off to one side, slightly out of my line of sight. I could hear Susan moving behind me. Then it became quiet. I could no longer sense any movement of the leather flails and even the breathing of the women was so shallow and quiet I could not discern it. Then my ear detected a sudden movement of air a fraction of a second before I felt the leather strike my buttocks. My tension was such that this first touch of the instrument caused me to clinch my muscles and jerk hard against my bonds. I gave a partly strangled cry, largely at the surprise, because the blow itself was not really that hard.

A second stroke followed this first. And a third. And a forth. Each blow was harder and each began to sting. If you have never experienced this - and I expect few have - I should explain that the touch of a cat is a complex feeling. There is, of course, the sting of the end of each individual leather strand as it snaps against the flesh. This can be either a small sharp pain which is gone nearly as soon as it arrives or it can be a burning pain which lingers. The force of the blow is not what determines this, but rather the sudden curve of the tip. A person who has experience - as Susan seemed to - can control this effect at will. But there is more to the feel of the cat. The body of the cat - that is, the aggregate mass of all the tails where they are clustered together - also provides a unique feeling as it contacts the flesh. This blow is more of a flat, hard impact than a sting. It, too, can be controlled by a person knowledgeable in the use of the instrument. A cat can, of course, inflict severe injury, both bruising and cutting slices, if the wielder wishes. However, it can also provide unmatched sensations to the skin without perpetrating true damage.

This is what Susan accomplished. Don't get me wrong. It did hurt. Both the slap of the leather bundle and the sting of the individual tails sent my nerve endings into overload. The lashes grew stronger and soon I found myself crying out as each set of stinging lashes met the skin of my buttocks. I could feel the heat, the pain of the stings lingered, and my skin became even more sensitive. But a strange thing happened. At first the blows only hurt. But soon the heat and sting began to provide a different form of stimulation. Susan had delivered a dozen or so strokes when I noticed that my member had hardened into a rigid rod and that I was actually arching my rear out in anticipation of the next blow. The pain was still there. Was it ever! But it was also being converted into an intense sexual stimulation.

Susan delivered perhaps two or two and a half dozen strokes before stopping. Then she came around in front of me again. Looking first into my eyes for several seconds she then reached down to grasp my hard rod and gave it a quick squeeze. Her eyes left mine and she bent forward to plant a warm kiss on the sensitive end of my excited organ. As she stepped away, I saw movement from the corner of my eye. I turned my head just in time to get a single glance of Jenny, riding crop in hand, moving behind me. I twisted to look over my shoulder and saw that she had taken a stance slightly behind and to my left. Then I discovered that Deborah, another crop in her hand, was standing opposite Jenny to my right. I knew what would be coming and I began to sweat a little more.

The first slash of the crop landed across my already hot right cheek. The crop, like the cat, delivers a multitude of sensations with each blow. The shaft - in this case a flexible bamboo encased in a thin layer of leather - leaves a line of fire, as though one were touched with a hot poker. The leather loop at the end slaps against the flesh as it completes a high speed arc when the shaft stops against the flesh with the result that a wider slap spreads a sharp, flat pain over several square inches of skin. At the time I didn't really analyze this effect, however. I merely reacted to a pain greater than the cat had provided. In fact, if I hadn't already been "warmed" by the cat, I'm sure that blow would have had me screaming "red." But as it was, the hurt again transmuted itself into sexual stimulation.

Deborah quickly struck my left cheek and then both girls began to beat me in earnest. I could see Susan and Joan looking on with rising looks of lust on their faces as I tried to jerk and twist away from the attack. Of course, stretched as I was, there was nothing I could do to avoid the blows and, in reality, almost nothing which would even mitigate the effect. The girls gave me another two or three dozen strokes, but they didn't limit themselves to my now flaming buttocks, but rather began to spread blows onto my thighs, back, and chest. I cried out, jerked and twisted, but I now realize I never even thought of calling "red" to stop the flogging.