Exotic Destination

"You never say 'no' to me... Ever." Whispered. His quiet voice contrasting with the intensity and meaning of his words. Searing into her mind as a permanent reminder of his control. Flipping her over, lifting her legs by the ankles, into a spread V, growling "Hold them up."

In her confusion, she had not noticed how hard he was. His manhood standing proud, hard and ready. Holding her legs behind the calves, opened for him, for his pleasure. At his command. Plunging into her waiting quim. It was ready for him to take what he wanted. Exploding around him with her arousal, two thrusts and she was cumming like a wanton whore.

He took her there, the way he wanted, looking down at her, the predator toying with the prey. She submitted, her body his to play with, to make her feel things she had never felt before. Orgasms, crashing on her, like waves on the shore, unending, pulsating, devastating.

He grabbed her ankles again, pushing them beside her head, stretching her. Doubled up as he pounded into her, all her muscles and sinews straining, making her tight for him. Her discomfort, his pleasure. But it still didn't stop her needy cunt from cumming for him, on his hard manhood.

And then it was over, when he was done. Not in her pussy like she expected, but rather in her mouth. Straddling her chest, cock shiny with her juices and his precum. Holding her head tight by the hair, so that his glans was resting on her lip as he shot streams of thick salty seed onto her tongue. Coating her mouth with the very first layer of man cum she had ever tasted.

Trying not to retch with the unfamiliar taste. Wiping the head off on her cheek as he told her to swallow. She looked up, perplexed. But obeyed, or at least tried to. Three times, each time her throat rebelling at the texture and the smell. Eventually getting it down, but traces all around the inside of her cheeks, permeating her nostrils. And then his cock was back in as he told her to clean him off.

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Chapter 3 - Directions

"Come. I want to show you around." He had put on a beach gown, but not given her one. She tried to cover herself as he pulled her up by the arm, but he slapped her hands away. "You are beautiful. Be proud of your body. I want to see all of you."

He took her firmly by the hand and walked her out past the sparking blue pool in front of the 2-bedroom villa, towards the beach. She saw people walking along the beach in front of the solid wooden fence, but fortunately none of them looked up. He put his arm possessively around her, stroking her shoulder down to her breasts, which he cupped gently, his calloused fingers rubbing her tender flesh while using his thumb to thrum her sensitive nipple.

She realised that her nakedness was hidden from the people on the beach, but not the next-door villa. She could not make anything out through the darkened windows but imagined someone looking out and seeing her exposed. The blush of humiliation coloured her neck and sent a burst of energy into her pussy. Why was she always so wet, since she had arrived here with him? She couldn't stop it. And she was no longer sure she wanted to.

"I'll take you to the beach tomorrow, but tonight we are going out." He turned and led her back into the house, guiding her into a room with a view of the sea, open to the en suite bathroom. "This is your room. I've bought you some clothes and some make up. Clean up and put on the clothes I take out for you. I want you looking elegant this evening. Understand?"

His look left her no choice but to obey, so she nodded and went into the shower. When she had finished, he was gone. A little backless black dress with 3-inch gold stiletto heels were laid out on the bed. No underwear.

She saw her suitcase in the corner and opened it to get some panties, because the dress wouldn't allow a bra. She noticed that her computer hard drive and her smartphone were gone. He had told her to bring the drive so that no one could find out that they had been chatting. She got the smartphone so that he alone could use it to contact her, through various chat channels. It was also how she paid for the things he wanted to buy her, using e-wallet and electronic recharging. She thought that it was strange that they were missing and decided to ask him about it later.

Selecting her favourite lacy black thong, that felt so sensual against her bare mound, she put on the dress and heels and tied her hair up in a messy bun, leaving a few tendrils framing her face, which she made up with judicious use of the cosmetics.

He had sent her to a salon to learn about make up a couple of months before, where they taught natural, sophisticated to party looks. It was one of the increasingly stringent demands he had made of her over the past six months, ensuring that she would look good for him. Like the sexy clothes and lingerie that he made her buy and model for him, streaming through her cam, even though she couldn't see him. It always puzzled her why he wouldn't let her see him when she had to perform for him, like an anonymous voyeur.

Lately she had been told to undress for him, acting like a stripper swaying to music he chose and slowly revealing her underwear. And then masturbating with her hairbrush in front of the camera, showing him what a 'good girl' she was. Always cumming, hard and intense, reinforced by her embarrassment at acting so lewdly and his voice complimenting her on how beautiful she looked.

This too was puzzling, because she had never been able to orgasm by herself before he started watching her. Her body responding subconsciously to the shame of such a private act, performed on camera for him. Not knowing whether he was recording her and what he would do with such a video, but still not being able to resist his commands.

She had begun to see her orgasms at belonging to him. He had taught her how to find that sensitive spot deep inside her vagina, to really find it and give herself that deep pleasure that it provided. From him, she explored the ways to make her clit come alive, to stroke it gently at the start and then increase the speed and pressure as it enlarged and became oh so sensitive. Until she felt her heart was going to explode with the sensations shooting up through her gut.

Desperate for his praise and the warm feeling it gave her, being affirmed and acknowledged. The words 'good girl' always triggering a flush of pleasure through her body. Being told she was pretty, encouraged her to try and look good, act sexy. To do whatever he asked.

Making herself up for him now made her tingle down there, like it always did, triggering those thoughts and her psychological associations. She had even felt it, when based on his instruction, she had made herself up to look older for the flight, in order to match her false ID.

He had made her go to a seedy part of town to a forger, to get the false drivers permit, under a false name and birthdate that he had selected, to indicate that she was twenty-one. The thin creepy guy never stopped ogling her, making her feel very uncomfortable. Taking the bus there, she felt so vulnerable, so exposed, so at risk. She felt so dirty after the ordeal that she had to take a shower when she got home.

But she also felt a strange excitement from the danger, the sense that she could be forced to do something by unknown men. She frigged herself to a crashing orgasm in the shower and had to relay the whole ordeal and her thoughts and feelings of the experience to him later that night, leaving her horny all over again. But that time he forbade her to touch herself, or later in bed. She spent the whole night frustrated, tossing and turning, but not disobeying. Being a 'good girl'.

He was reclining in the lounge when she was ready. Subtle lighting casting pools across the room, leaving him in partial shadow as the evening extinguished the light from outside. She walked over towards him, feeling self-conscious in the extremely short dress and high heels. She was aware that the loose front would allow any watcher a tantalising view of her breasts if she leant forward, so she was subconsciously holding her shoulders back and thrusting her hardened nipples forward creating two small spikes through the thin material.

"Stand here," Pointing to a spot beside his armchair. Looking at her with an unfathomable expression, he slid a hand up her thigh, possessively reaching her panty clad crotch.

"What's this? I didn't put this out." He growled, fiercely squeezing her pussy lips through the material, between thumb and forefinger, causing a jolt of pain.

"I thought. . ." She stammered.

"Don't think. Do what I say." He interrupted, roughly grabbing her arm and pulling her over his lap. Sliding the short dress up to expose her thong split buttocks. He spanked her hard and fast, ten blows causing red blossoms to bloom on her skin. Too choked up and surprised to cry out, she took it silently, except for the resounding crack that shattered her hearing as his hand met her bruised flesh. The double pain ratchetting through her body like a forest fire.

"Do you understand?" Pushing her down onto her knees in front of him he demanded. "What have you got to say?"

"I'm s-s-sorry." Trembling lip, only just holding back the waterworks

"And?" Merciless

"I w-w-won't d-do it again." Hoping that's what he was asking for. Thinking of nothing else except stopping his anger. Asking his forgiveness. Contrite, on her knees in supplication before him. "Please. . ."

"Alright. Since you want them on, you can keep them on." Relief at his words "For now." What does that mean? But she didn't have the courage to resist him or question him. "Are you going to be my 'good girl'?"

"Yes. . . Thank you. Sir." It just felt right to call him that. To thank him.

He got up, taking her hand and pulling her up gently then. The contrast more than her brain or her heart could bear. She just wanted him to be like this. Caring. She was certain that she'd do anything to ensure that he stayed like this. She'd be a 'good girl'. His 'good girl'. Whatever it took.

They were in the car when he told her cryptically. "I have so much to show you. Starting tonight." He had been driving in silence, his hand up her thigh, caressing the soft skin just below her crotch, but never touching her. Driving her wild in anticipation, feelings of frustration and shame colliding, as he aroused her while taking liberties without asking

The valet took the car when they got to where they were going. A jazz and dinner club, with a dancefloor, and people who danced like they were on TV. She felt panic, never having danced like that before. Was he going to make her?

Leading her to their reserved table, on the edge of the room against the wall but with a clear view of the dancers. He chivalrously held out the chair for her to sit down, casually flipping the back of the dress as she did, so that her sensitive and bruised bare cheeks met and rubbed against the velvet seat, making sure she was continually reminded of her discomfort and his domination earlier that night. She sat, initially surprised and then understanding as he pushed her shoulders down when she tried to tuck the dress under her.

He ordered for her, a salad and a glass of white wine, not asking what she wanted, rather deciding what she would get. She had never really had wine before, but she knew not to refuse when he toasted to her beauty. The sip burst on her tongue and into her stomach, warming her.

"Give me your panties." Out of the blue. "I wanted you bare, so now you'll do what I wanted."

She looked at him in horror. "What?"

"You heard me. I know you're wet." He taunted her quietly. "Sluts don't get to wear panties." Waiting a few seconds, while she stared at him, petrified. "Come on, I'm going to count to ten."

"Please can I go to the bathroom?" She couldn't comprehend taking them off here. Now that he had mentioned it, she felt her own wetness and was dying of shame. How could her body betray her like this?

"No. Here. Now. . . One. . . Just slip your thumbs under your skirt and slip them down. . . Two. . . You don't want to make me angry again. . . Three. . . Do you?" He was smiling patiently, enigmatically.

That got her moving. She had told herself she would do anything to be his 'good girl'. With the skirt bunched up at the back it was easy to slide the hand nearest the wall up to the string over her hip, pushing it down and wriggling her bottom to slide it underneath. "Four. . ." But the other side wouldn't slide, she'd have to push it too, in front of everyone. She looked around blushing crimson and did it, for anyone to see. Until she had the thong stretched tight across her thighs.

"Five. . . Good, now take them off. No one is looking. . . Six." Only four to go. Down to her knees under the table. That was easy. "Seven. . ." Raising her right leg. Slipping if off past her ankle and her shoe under the table. "Eight. . ." Raising the other leg. Oh no, it's stuck on the heel. Please no. At last, it's off.

"You'd better hurry. . . Nine. . . Put it in my hand." He held out his hand, cupped in the middle of the table. The waiter was coming back. Would be at the table in five seconds. She couldn't. . . She had to. She looked down and quickly placed the crumpled material in his hand, keeping it covered as the waiter came up with their mains. Hiding it as if holding his hand.

"Let the man put your plate down." He smiled sardonically, staring at her until she reluctantly withdrew her hand, to her lap. Not being able to look anywhere except at her plate. Crimson shame pulsing through her cheeks. She could see that he had not moved his hand, the garment sitting there like an accusation. Telling everyone she was a slut. Who else would do such a thing?

"Let's eat." He slipped the thong into his pocket as the waiter left. "I expect you are sopping. I hope you don't make a mess of the chair."

He was right. Her traitorous pussy was swampy. She tried to clench her kegel muscles and her thighs to prevent it from soiling the seat. Picking at the salad, distracted, horny. Feeling her lust bubbling up. Threatening to consume her.

He chatted, unconcerned with her struggles, her suffering, her mortification. Enjoying the music, the food and her beautiful desperation. She ate too but didn't taste the salad. She drank the wine and it relaxed her, made her more accepting of her fate.

Standing suddenly, he held out his hand and walked her onto the dance floor. She wanted the ground to swallow her up, knowing that a sudden swing or fall would expose her breasts or her womanhood to everyone. In in her slightly inebriated state, she was sure that would happen. And she could feel her squelching uncovered slit as she walked, juices dampening her inner thighs.

But he didn't let her fall. Rather he held her firmly and led her around the floor, as if she had been dancing for years. Caressing her back, whispering how beautiful she was. How much she turned him on. His hand slipping down the back of her loose dress, onto her backside, against her naked skin. She couldn't help thrusting her hips into his groin, her nipples onto his chest.

Flooded with sensations, incapable of resisting this man who had taken control of her, and her life. As they danced, she felt droplets of moisture ooze from her slit, dripping down between her thighs, making them embarrassingly slick as she moved, which just made her body naturally juice more.

Back at the table he whispered to her "I want you to drop your napkin, and when you reach for it, expose your tit and shove it into my hand. I want to fondle you." He draped his hand off the table in front of her, palm up. On the restaurant side of the table, where anyone could see. His eyebrow raised, waiting.

She didn't know what to say. This was too much. "Please. . ." She said nothing more, because she didn't know what she was asking.

"If you don't listen, I might just leave you here." The fire in his eyes showed his determination. "You can work out how to get back, if you even know where the villa is."

The threat struck a cold desperation deep in her gut, clasping her heart in a tight grip, making it hard to breathe. She couldn't let that happen. She couldn't imagine the consequences. She didn't know where the villa was, the street address or even what it was called.

Without thinking, she dropped her napkin, bent down and slipped her hand across her front to pull the top aside. As her tit popped out, she aimed it at his hand to fill it with the soft flesh, frowning in concentration, in humiliation, in arousal.

The first time he ever saw her, twelve months earlier, he was flipping through Periscope chats. He would occasionally browse those video chats for titillation, looking for chicks who were exposing themselves. It always amazed him how easy it was to get them to take off their clothes on camera, for a few likes or gifts. He loved the indirect control of manipulating them into doing things they would never do in real life. For him, it didn't matter who they were, the control was what he liked.

And then there she was. This gorgeous, innocent looking, woman. Chewing her lip pensively, reading the posts. It seemed that a few commenters had been bullying her. Telling her they were going to leave the chat if she didn't do something interesting. Show them something. A common theme about exposing herself for them. Various comments like, 'lift your top' and then 'a gift if you show us your titties.' She had resisted initially, but now seemed to be considering it. Asking that they follow her, obviously wanting affirmation and searching for attention.

She hesitated and then with a demure glance at the camera, she did. Showing the world her pert breasts with their dusky puffy nipples. The same look, concentrating on the words on the chat, hints of shame at her act and the beginnings of arousal as she realised that she was probably turning on the men that were watching. The neediness and the willingness to please, making him pause and engage her through PM, drawing her in by 'protecting' her from predators. . .

He relished the same look now, as she thrust herself on him in desperate compliance. That felt almost as good as the firm flesh in his hand, which he groped mercilessly, adding a wince to her facial expressions. But like a good girl, she didn't pull away, just accepted the treatment he dished out.

She only straightened when he released her tit and withdrew his hand with a "Good girl. I'm pleased with you." The surge of pride she felt at those words made it all worthwhile.

When they were preparing to leave, he looked down at the wet spot that had stained the chair seat, telling her to clean her slutty mark. He waited while she used the napkin, bending over with his hand on her backside, trying to dry it. Dying with shame as he casually told the waiter that she was just cleaning some food she had dropped.

Later when they were in the car, he said "You've got me all worked up. Lean over and suck me, while I take you home." The nonchalant entitlement shocked her. But she was in no position to resist. As she took him into her mouth, to give her very first proper blowjob he instructed. "Just like I taught you on that dildo."

She cringed at the thought. It was one of her worse purchases at his direction. He made her go to a horrible adult shop, full of lecherous men and tattooed goth women. She had to buy an eight-inch black dildo, a pink vibrator and a silver princess butt plug. She knew about these things in theory, but never expected to see them, much less own such things.

Over the next weeks, he had introduced her to the joys or in her view the shame and pain of using them. He was most insistent on the dildo, making her suck it for what seemed like hours, until three months later, she could competently take the entire thing into her mouth and down her throat.