Between The Devil and The Deep Blue

I glugged from a bottle of water before reclining into the hot August sands. The secluded cove afforded me little company, although the gulls seemed to echo the noise in my head as I lit a joint and closed my eyes, allowing the heat of the burning sun to penetrate my closed eyelids whilst the burning curves of sand massaged my fatigued muscles.

It appeared to me that there are more things held in our imagination than could or should ever exist in reality and if I ever got hold of the bastard flying insect that was playing hop-scotch on my leg I would...

My train of thought was interrupted by a sigh so soft that I could have believed it was the wind if I didn't know that my girl was laid out on the rocks to my right. I didn't turn my head but she knew I was still there. She wouldn't doubt it for a minute.

Smiling broadly I remembered her cries for more, interspersed with her desperate pleadings. Then I felt a pang of guilt. Mary mother of god... it can't be right to drill holes into millennia old rock... but how else would I be able to secure her so completely.

Turning my head to look at her now I admired the bolts and chains keeping her so securely fastened on her back to the sandstone. Ankles and wrists embraced in iron gleaming hard in the mid-afternoon sun giving me the bone again. How can she make me so hard just by doing nothing...

A small protest escaped from her throat catching my attention once again. She didn't stir, didn't strain. Clever, my girl. I mean, what would be the point? She was going nowhere until I decided so.

Looking out to sea I felt a rush as I saw the tide turn and begin to flow in again. Within 2 hours the cove would be completely submerged once again. I had fastened and unfastened the shackles several times to ensure quick release but even that didn't dispel the possibility that the key could go astray or even that a sudden heart attack on my part could throw a spanner in the works. I hadn't gone so far as to bring bolt cutters.

She knew this. And still she didn't strain. I smiled at how lucky I was to have such an obedient, trusting girl. I do believe she would die for me which only gives me more reason to keep her alive. I love my baby, especially when laid out so beautifully...

Standing, I walked close to observe her. Her wonderful body splayed out on the rock. Alabaster skin flushed with the sun, and my history all over her body. Thumb prints, hand marks, lines, bruises, cuts and... my eyes were suddenly drawn to her neck. Three fine red welts from the twine I'd used to strangle my sweetheart. I'd never seen a sight so beautiful than my love turning blue for me, and those perfect lines on her throat saying more than a physical collar ever could.

I trailed my fingers over the welts and watched her whole body rise and shiver as her mouth opened so sweetly. So sweetly I felt compelled to stick my cock in it. She loves my cock, my baby, she loved it so much she started crying as I poked it sweetly between her salty lips, into her cheek, down her open throat and out again to rub over her sweet lips. Following the trail over her chin and down to her wounded neck I rubbed my swollen end over the abrasions causing her to gasp sharply.

It occurred to me that my baby's back was unmarked. I felt a pang of discontent looking at her beautifully marred skin knowing that her back was bare. Without further consideration I quickly unbolted both ankles and picked her up, flipping her over perpendicular omitting any need to alter her wrist fittings. The rock was a perfect size, causing her to kneel on the rock behind her in invitation...

I had, within a matter of seconds, located 6 strands of dried seaweed. I'd administered six swift strokes across her rump before it even registered that she was crying out in delight. That's what I love about my baby, she always wants more... even when the crying turned into a sob slightly less full of delight...

Further flogging ensued before my eyes drifted to some smashed up stones close to my feet which I quickly picked up and began to draw delicately throbbing welts over her back, arse and thighs. I continued in this fashion until there was barely an inch of skin left unmarked and followed with an extended hand slapping until the welts stood on end.

A quick glance out to sea and I was flying high. The tide was beginning to lap at the base of the rocks that held my love. Her wide eyes told me that she had noticed it before I had. She looked at me in semi-desperation indicating it was time to cut loose. Then her look turned cold as she realised I was not ready.

Flipping her over again she screamed briefly as the welts on her back hit the burning hot rock. Before she had further time to protest she was shackled again, wrists and ankles on her back with all sensation gone. Except of course for the sea kissing her ankles.

I'd been looking forward to this all fucking day. We'd been on the beach since Eleven, a romantic picnic that turned out to be anything but. I knew how her mind worked and I knew that even with all the trust in the world, my girl would panic at the rising tide.

It was lapping furiously at her calves now. Still she kept calm, fighting me, fighting the elements, fighting her own disposition to panic, but I knew. I knew the demons in her head telling her I would let her down, that she would go insane with panic before drowning horribly.

I stepped back. Two paces. She didn't take her eyes off me. Those wide pools of blackness giving me love and trusting me far too much. Didn't she know that I had it in me to let her perish and walk away without giving her another thought? Didn't she understand that I have desires that no man should ever have. Did she even realise that the rising panic in her marred throat had my cock so incredibly hard at the thought of fucking her dead, cold, drowned, shackled body?

Perhaps she did.

Perhaps that is what saved me.

And her...

Getting with the program I double checked the location of the key. The tide was more vicious than I had anticipated and was crashing over her belly. She began to hold her breath anticipating her head going under and taking it to the edge I let the waves work her.

'Hold your breath baby' I mouthed silently and watched as her eyes and mouth close and the first wave crash over her. Watching her eyes and mouth gape open in terror is now a moment permanently engrained in my brain and I have to say that coming on her face is a poor substitute for drowning her...

Three times I indulged myself, three waves of the incoming tide before I gave her permission to beg. She didn't let me down. Terror had knocked all remnants of pride from my baby and she pleaded and screamed for me to let her loose. I released one wrist and paused on the second to allow another wave to engulf her. Probably too much but who could resist? The other wrist was free a second before the next wave and she sat bolt upright in relief as the sea grew more relentless and I realised I was up to my waist.

Releasing her ankles and picking her up almost simultaneously I waded further up the beach and up several stairs before laying her between two dunes and gathering her up into my arms as she wept. So soft and perfect in my arms, I gave her all my love.

But... my eyes were still on the rising tide and thoughts of what could have been...