The Liberation of Kate Pt. 02

I told Kate to sit in my lap so I could hold the glass for her to sip her wine (since her hands remained bound). As I was ordering a second drink, another couple entered the bar. They were in their mid-to-late forties. He was bespectacled and somewhat paunchy, with a ruddy face and double chin. His lurid shirt and voluminous Bermuda shorts were a caricature of the stereotypical tourist. He greeted the barman with an American accent, somewhere Midwestern. She was well-built and well-toned, with platinum-blonde hair, a pleasant face, keen eyes and a wry smile. She had a large bosom but streamlined curves, and an even tan. Her nipples and areolae were cherry-coloured, as if rouged.

Her pubes were clean-shaven, the labia ruby-red. Just above the cleft was a small tattoo, the Venus symbol or possibly the Egyptian ankh — it was hard to tell from how she was standing and where I was sitting (without me staring too closely for our mutual comfort). She wore a leather collar; from it was suspended a strap which ended in a loop handle and was now coiled around her right breast. Also hanging about her neck on a black strap was a large red-ball gag, glistening with saliva.

The man asked if he and his wife might join us. I turned towards Kate, but she just beamed and said, "Of course, we're delighted to have company."

"I'm Ted, this is Valerie."

Kate introduced us.

Ted and I shook hands and he sat down. Valerie knelt on the carpet at her husband's feet. The waitress came over to take their order. It was Sarah, who must have had multiple duties. (She looked tired.) Ted paused to inspect her body from one end to the other, his gaze lingering at the most interesting places along the way. He did so unabashed, and the young woman just smiled good-naturedly, unperturbed at having her every nook and cranny examined so thoroughly. He then turned to Kate, giving her the same treatment. She must have blushed, because Valerie leaned forward and patted her gently on the knee.

"First time, honey?" she asked indulgently. "It takes some getting used to, but it's the best feeling in the world, you'll see."

"This is our third trip," Ted explained. "We'll keep coming back, too. Can't get enough of it."

Valerie punched him playfully. "No, you can't."

"Your wife..." Ted raised a quizzical eyebrow, until I nodded, "is very pretty."

"As is yours," I answered, feeling proud.

"We're both very lucky men."

"Yes, you are, and don't you forget it," his wife laughed, gazing up over her shoulder at him. He gently stroked her head and ruffled her hair. She licked her lips and her eyelids fluttered. She actually started to purr as her nipples began to grow and glow.

"First time we came," she said (having regained her composure), "I hid in our room for two days. By the time we left, I had almost forgotten what it was like to wear clothes. You get so into it."

Ted's enthusiasm, Valerie's self-confidence and their mutual sense of ease were infectious. Kate leaned back, more relaxed than I had seen her since we'd arrived. I noticed that her knees had drifted apart. I adjusted my posture in the chair to nudge them back together, but she just wiggled into a new position.

Valerie continued after a long sip of her cocktail. "There are basically two types of men here, and believe it or not they don't divide cleanly into locals and visitors. Some will look at you out of the corners of their eyes. They're self-conscious about it, but they can't keep their eyes off you. The other kind will stand there and take a good long look, and when they're satisfied they will go about their business."

"A naked woman is as natural as the sunrise, glorious as the sunset, heavenly as the stars," Ted cut in.

"He gets poetic around pretty girls," Valerie scoffed, good-naturedly, "but he's right, you know. Take some advice, Kate. Don't be ashamed or embarrassed. If people are looking at you, it's because they like what they see. Treat it as a compliment. So don't try to hide anything. Let them see what you have, what nature has given you."

"God made the man first..." Ted began.

"... and left the best for last," Valerie went on. "But the island has lots to offer. Some very good restaurants. Wonderful scenery, especially when you get out of the town. Plenty of things to do. Snorkelling and scuba diving — that's our hobby. One last piece of advice though. Sun protection is a must, particularly on your pussy."

Kate audibly sucked in a breadth.

"You don't want him sticking himself in there when you've got a bad case of sunburn."

Ted and Valerie were an interesting couple.

Once we'd ordered another round of drinks, Ted and I got into a rather pointless discussion about something or other. I tried to keep up but would rather have been listening to Valerie, who was giving Kate a few more pointers for making the most of our vacation. I heard my name a few times.

Eventually, I managed to extricate us from the T-V show. I admired their forthright and comfortable manner, but they were the sort of people whose joie de vivre will quickly exhaust you. Their natural habitat is the large gathering where they can pass, or be passed, from one audience to the next. Nevertheless, they extracted a promise from us that tomorrow we would let them be our guides in shopping for Kate's bondage gear.

Just as we reached the lobby the elevator doors closed, so instead of waiting I decided we would use the stairs. As we climbed I walked directly behind Kate. Her hands were alarmingly red and I was worried that I had tied them too tightly. But her arms were flushed as well, and I was reassured that this was merely the effect of how she had been sitting in my lap, leaning on the arm rest. So I devoted my attention to her pert, bare backside, jiggling and wiggling as she climbed the steps.

We retired to our room to prepare for dinner; and it did not surprise me that a woman takes just as long to get ready when she has literally nothing to wear. But as she was sitting at the dresser putting on her lipstick, Kate paused for a moment, studied her image in the mirror and then stood up and reached down to her belly. She was leaning forward and I had to get up close to see what she was doing.

"A beauty tip from Valerie?" I asked.

She just smiled, focusing on her task. She was carefully applying blusher to the sweet crease between her thighs.

As we were about to head down to the restaurant, I walked into the hall and turned back to see my wife in the doorway, her sublime naked figure in silhouette, illuminated from behind by the dim orange glow of the security light. She was surrounded by a faint aura that gave the scene an ethereal quality. The gentle curves of her body were softly muted, as if a gossamer veil had been drawn across them. It was a vision of transcendent beauty. I offered her my arm, and we went downstairs.

With some relief, when I scanned the hotel dining room there was no sign of Ted and Valerie. Three or four tables were occupied. As we waited to be seated, I was proud that my Kate was so quickly coming to terms with her nudity. She no longer made any effort to conceal herself, standing with her hands behind her back or at her side. When someone glanced her way, she appeared to draw back her shoulders, as if to emphasize her breasts.

The dining room was a fancy one, with white starched tablecloths, crisp napkins, silver candleholders — all the accoutrements of the swank establishment. The serving staff consisted of a waiter and three waitresses. He wore an elegant uniform of black pants and ruffled white shirt, with a myrtle-green tie and a vest trimmed with cord of golden braid. The girls were, of course, naked, but for leather loops about the neck like that on the receptionist, plus bracelets and anklets linked together by silver chains. Their restraints allowed them just enough freedom of movement to waddle about the room serving dishes, pouring drinks and clearing tables.

They were marshalled by a small, intense-looking woman, the maîtresse d'hotel, whose only accessory to what nature and a vigorous daily workout had endowed upon her was a thin silver neckband. Her hands were shackled behind her back, but she directed her team skilfully with nods, stares and just the occasional command. She smiled a welcome and summoned the waiter, who showed us to a table. He held Kate's chair and paused until I was in my place before seating her.

"Will the lady be dining sans vue?" he inquired.

I looked at him blankly.

"Blindfolded," Kate whispered.

I nodded, and he snapped his fingers. One of the waitresses promptly appeared bearing a platter. On it was a neat stack of satin sashes.

"The black one," I said.

"May I?" the waiter asked.

"Be my guest," I replied, and he tied the sash about Kate's head. As he did so, with slow deliberation (as if to let her feel the descending darkness), his hands brushed against her bare shoulders and she flinched; but he seemed oblivious, or not caring. I didn't assist Kate with her meal, except when at one point she almost knocked over her glass while feeling for it. She did not eat much, but I could tell she was aroused by the sensuous pleasures of dans le noir dining — the curious anticipation of each bite or sip, the momentary puzzlement, the sudden awareness and the aroused sensitivity to textures and aromas, tastes and flavours.

The dining room quickly filled. Ted and Valerie showed up, but after a cheery hello they mercifully moved on. Kate had a little too much wine, although I could hardly blame her. It had been a strange day. She remained blindfolded as I guided her to the lobby, and was a little unsteady on her feet. She gasped and lifted each foot in turn high off the floor.

"Cold tiles," she giggled.

Sarah was still on duty, standing by the elevator at attention with her head bowed as another couple entered just before us. The man and I exchanged nods. The woman, who also had a blindfold, tilted her head as if trying to catch a glimpse of us from around its edges. They disembarked before us, and as she exited the car I saw that her back and bottom bore at least a dozen broad crimson streaks.

From the door of our suite I carried Kate to the bedroom.