Exotic Destination

Now she used her lessons to good effect and was quickly bobbing in his lap as he drove, taking him entirely in and using her tongue like a seasoned whore to caress the shaft. As he got close, he would tap her head and she would slow down. A trick that he had taught her virtually, pretending the dildo was him and she was responding to his active involvement.

Eventually he allowed her to take him over the top as he drove into the driveway of the villa, unloading down her throat to deliver his second batch of semen into her stomach.

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Chapter 4 - Darkness

Later, lying in her bed she couldn't sleep. The itch between her legs wouldn't go away. Despite being driven to frenzied arousal all evening, he hadn't touched her once after they got home. And he forbade her to touch herself. The feelings of desperation and helplessness that she had to endure just made her hotter and hornier.

It wasn't just the frustration that kept her awake, it was the bewildering events of the entire day. From the moment she met him at the airport to when she got into bed, stripped naked at his instruction, because he wanted 'access to her gorgeous body without impediment'. He had told her that she was an 'object of living art', a canvass upon which he could create...

Having sex for the first time in such a rough and degrading way. Losing her virginity to a man so much older than herself. The paradoxical feelings of being intensely desired and being unfeelingly used at the same time. And the humiliation and exhilaration in the jazz club, leaving her dizzy and uncertain about what she wanted and who she really was. She felt just like a little bird in a storm, not knowing which way was up or down, nor what direction to home and safety... wherever that was.

He had told her that she was to sleep in her room and be available to him there. Never to enter his room unless explicitly told to. There was no key to lock her door and he told her to always leave it open. How could he be so unfair, so demanding, so one-sided? But she hadn't questioned him, just nodded her acquiescence.

The way he was, like Jekyll and Hyde. One moment so caring and kind and the next so cruel and violent. What made him like that? Was it her that brought out the beast in him, or was he just like Mr Hyde? The side that scared her, hurt her, humiliated her. But also aroused her and made her feel intensely desired. Like he would risk everything to be with her.

Or was she the one that brought out the loving Dr Jekyll. The one that spoiled her, guided her, soothed her and made her feel so sexy and grown up. Was it that she liked them both, the combination together making her feel so alive, so carefree, so invigorated? She felt she could be anything when she was with him, because he made her feel safe and secure. He would look after her and tell her what to do.

Despite the craziness of the ordeal, she thought it would be exciting to be here with him for a couple of days and then she would go home to her mundane life and her mother.

Her mother; tired, busy, distracted. Often drinking too much late at night, to numb her perpetual feelings of quiet desperation. Like she had been ever since daddy had died five years before in that horrendous accident, leaving them destitute and alone. No relatives nearby to help, few friends and no support systems. Mum had to work two jobs to make ends meet, so she was never home.

Leaving her daughter to cook and clean, do the grocery shopping and the laundry, while trying to keep up at school. Knowing that education was the way out of all of this, but not knowing how she would afford to study after high school.

The loneliness and despair making her vulnerable, needing affection, needing attention, needing appreciation, needing affirmation. Wanting to please others, in the hopes that they give her a bit of what she wanted, so desperately needed. The irony of having to be adult, while not having an emotional foundation of self-awareness nor self-confidence, left her exposed to him.

It was this combination of innocence, immaturity, vulnerability and desire that had captured his imagination when he first started messaging her. He realised he could mould her, make her his, body and soul. With just the right incentives, giving her what she needed, praising her obedience and censuring her if she didn't cooperate. Threatening to take it all away if she resisted.

His own mother had done the same to him, making him achieve her expectations of professional and material success. Praising and spoiling him when he achieved, but becoming angry, cold and distant when he failed. He soon learned that he had to be single-minded and selfish about achieving success, if he was to obtain the affirmation he needed.

This psychopathic focus meant that he was not able to maintain regular relationships built on sharing and intimacy, needing rather to control and dominate. Like he controlled and dominated everything in his life and work. Over time this led him to want to hurt his partner, not severely or sadistically, but for them prove their submission to him and his control over every aspect of their sexuality. This was always followed by the desire to heal and care for the one he had hurt, so that she would be bonded to him and ready for the next round of passion.

Through this journey he developed a fascination with the psychology of seduction and control, the defiling of innocence and the inevitability of a cycle of temptation and succumbing followed by guilt and redemption. The internal conflict that this brings was his foundation of fantasy and reality.

Over the past year he had introduced her to stories of non-consensual and rough sex, registering her on selected internet sites that carried the content he wanted her to know. At first, she was horrified, asking why anyone would want to hurt someone or be hurt.

But over time, he gently explained that in fantasy, anything was acceptable and that many people shared these dark thoughts. He increasingly encouraged her to masturbate while he read an erotic story aloud, ensuring its subconscious connection with her arousal.

The first time she refused, he told her he was going away for a few days and would not be able to talk to her. And maybe she wasn't as grown up as he though she was. After a week of silence, she missed him and craved his attention so much. Learning her lesson, she volunteered to do what he wanted, when he eventually sent her a brief message saying that he was going to be back soon, and did she want to chat.

It wasn't long thereafter that he made her attach clothes pegs to her nipples while she masturbated to him reading. And soon after that, she would pinch her clit painfully to delay her orgasm, while she frigged herself and read the stories aloud to him. At those times, he was quiet, not talking, just watching, while she performed, not even knowing if he was still there, but not stopping until she orgasmed for him, because that is what he had told her to do.

It was with that recollection that she eventually fell into a fitful sleep, not knowing what the next morning would bring.

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Chapter 5 - Surf and sunshine

She woke up, sunlight filtering through the drapes and smells of cooking wafting through the house. In the morning light, and with some sleep, the fear and confusion of the previous night was largely allayed.

When she sat up, she saw that her bag was gone and there was a white bikini laid out at the end of the bed. She was sure there was an explanation about the bag. But it was clear what he expected, so she obeyed and slipped it on. The bottom was a Brazilian cut, leaving half her ass cheeks exposed as it fitted tightly up her crack, while the top was a couple of triangles with some string, to partly cover her petite breasts, but still making her feel exposed.

She would never have bought something so tiny and revealing by herself, especially to wear in public. Despite this and the feeling that it was definitely a size too small, she realised that she looked pretty sexy. She took a deep breath, swallowed hard to control the butterflies fluttering round her stomach, and sashayed into the kitchen to get his attention.

He was at the stove making scrambled eggs, a pitcher of orange juice beside him, but finishing a large cup of coffee that he didn't offer her. He glanced over his shoulder as she walked in, and then a double take "You look good enough to eat. You're gorgeous. I love the bikini. Come here!"

Grabbing her shoulders in his strong hands, so firm that it almost hurt. Looking her up and down, his face softening into a sensual expression, devouring her as he slipped a hand down her back to caress her ass as he leant in to kiss her gently on the lips. His hand trailed over the bikini onto the exposed skin and down to the crease where her cheek met her thigh, causing a nervous involuntary twitch of her muscles. He slid the sport calloused tip of his index finger softly back and forth, stroking her as delicately as a feather.

"The most erotic part of a woman." He whispered, leaning into her ear so the breath of his voice tickled her lobe, sending sensual tremors down her neck. And then leaning away to continue cooking, leaving her in emotional turmoil. Wanting to be touched but fearing the consequences...

Plating the eggs and pouring the juice he announced. "After breakfast, we're going surfing."

"I don't know how to surf. I'll watch you." Concern on her face, thinking about wearing this bikini in the waves.

"No! I'll teach you. It's easy." With a relaxed smile, but a look that broached no further resistance.

"Please can I change into a different bathing suit? This one's too small." At least that would be better. "I couldn't find my suitcase. Do you know where it is? I have a one-piece swimsuit that I could wear."

"NO! You'll wear what I tell you to wear, young lady. I like that one." A hard edge to his voice. "Last night, you wore panties from your case. Without permission. So, I've taken your clothes. I bought you pretty things to wear and I'll choose what's appropriate for each occasion." A clench of his jaw and then. "That's enough. Have your eggs, so we can get to the beach."

A few sullen mouthfuls and gulps of juice later, he told her that if she wanted the bathroom, now was the time. But she didn't need to go, so he whisked her down to the beach, holding her hand securely. Sitting near a couple of cute boys her age, who were chatting and watching the surfers. But distracted now that she was there, whispering and nudging each other, pretending not be watching, but obviously ogling her displayed charms.

"I'll go out first. The waves are a little big right now, but you'll get a chance later." In command of his beach and his life. She a lamb to the slaughter. "But first I'll rub some lotion onto your back. You don't want to get burned."

Lying her down on the towel, first on her stomach, rubbing the lotion over her back and down to her butt. Then up her legs, pushing them apart so he could flick a finger along the exposed thin white band between her thighs, just beside her labia. She felt them begin to squelch with the almost attention of the past 24 hours, the moisture building and a wet spot appearing on the gusset pressed tight to her crotch.

But he pretended not to notice the translucent patch, nor the opportunity, preferring to tell her to make sure she covered her front. As she did, he waxed his longboard. She giggled at the innuendo of him rubbing pineapple fragranced 'Mr Zoggs Sex Wax' onto his board and then jokingly on the front of his boardshorts, while repeating the by-line "The best for your stick" in a creepy voice.

He finished by leaning over and stroking the wax against the translucent spot on her bikini between her legs saying "Later!", causing her to blush as she realised how transparent it was and how obvious he had been in front of those boys.

He winked and then paddled out, while she lay tanning in the Factor 10 that he had intentionally chosen for her fair and sensitive skin. The boys glancing surreptitiously at her gave her a thrill, being so obviously desired.

Watching him surf got her juices flowing again, this man that could do things she had never dreamed of. She realised he owned the waves, like he owned her. And then he was beside her again, telling her it was time for her to learn to surf.

"I can't. I don't know how.' She protested. "I really need to go and pee."

"You'll do as I say, little one." He growled so menacingly that she nearly pee'd herself right there on the beach. "You can go in the sea." As if that was a compromise, a normal thing to do. She had heard her school mates giggling and talking about weeing in the pool but thought that was gross. She would never do that herself, in public. No!

He grabbed her tightly by the hand, and resolutely marched her down to the water. Countenancing no resistance. Wading into the sea, waves hitting her legs and splashing her bikini. Making it totally see-through. She cringed with embarrassment, trying to get deeper in, so the water would cover her displayed pussy from the leering boys on the beach.

"You'd better pee now, because I'm going to push you onto a wave soon." Like he was telling her to go to the bathroom before the show in a movie theatre. She couldn't, wouldn't. Not in public. Not into her bikini. Eeeew. Gross.

He picked her up onto the long surfboard, a powerful hand between her legs, gripping her thigh but pushing firmly up against her crotch, while his other grabbed the board up front, thumb extended distractingly under her breast. And then he pushed her as the wave came and she was thrust forward with the momentum of nature. She had never felt such power, such exhilaration as time seemed to stand still and she rushed forward ahead of the wave.

Until she fell and it was the opposite. Rolling around in a washing machine, seawater and sand up her nose, in her hair, bashed onto the sand bottom, grazing her shoulder. She surfaced like a wet puppy, bewildered, disoriented, sore. One breast had popped out of her top and was exposed for a couple of seconds, flashing those boys. They definitely saw, because they were ogling her and talking excitedly. But even when she covered up, the bikini was transparent and her nipples were obvious, hard as stones from the cold and something else. . .

Then he was there, holding her, laughing, making it better. Maybe it wasn't so bad. She could try again at his urging. But now the need to pee was even greater, so she did. Through her bikini bottoms. With the world watching her. She was sure those boys knew what she was doing. She flushed with shame, but at the same time felt a tingle of excitement down between her legs. Was she such a slut that she got off on something so gross?

He dragged her out for the next ride, telling her she must stand. She would have to carry on until she stood on the board, like a real surfer. No lying down and taking the wave. So, she tried and fell. Again, the elation of the surge, followed by the anguish of the fall. More sand, grazes and exposure as her bikini wouldn't stay on. The sand feeling rough on her sensitive skin as a slight sunburn had turned her pink.

Until eventually she stood, exposing her transparent bikini to the beach and the enthralled boys, who only had eyes for her in the small shore break, not their heroes out on the big waves at backline. He came up to her, hugging her and congratulating her. Telling her how amazing she was to carry on trying, a true champion.

Those words made it worth all the pain and hardship of the previous hours. But now as she walked up the beach, she felt the sand in her bikini, scratching her nipples and abrading her labia. So, distracting that she hardly noticed the huge eyes and grins of the boys as she went past them exhibiting her darkened nipples and swollen pussy lips through the transparent material.

"Did you see her pussy, dude." One boy whispering to the other, voice loud with excitement.

"That's no way to talk in front of a girl." He stood over them, grim expression. "Tell her you're sorry."

"Sorry." The boy mumbled with a red face, not looking at her. She wanted to hide in the sand. Him making a thing of it, was worse than the comment. And then as he smiled and winked at her, she knew he knew that. He had done it on purpose, to embarrass her even more. Tears of frustration threatened to spill from her eyes, as her juices threatened to spill from her crotch.

"Please can I shower." As they went through the villa gate. "I've got sand everywhere."

"Stop being so self-centred. Look what you've done to me." He snarled into her ear, grabbing her hair and indicating the bulge in his boardshorts. Pushing her brusquely to her knees, right there behind the fence. Pulling his shorts down to expose his rampant manhood, bigger and harder than it was the previous night. Dragging her mouth onto it, opening in surprise and resignation, until it was lodged deep and she was instinctively sucking and swallowing the way he had taught her all those times with the dildo on chat.

Her knees started hurting, pieces of course sand pressing against them on the paving, digging into the flesh and bone. The next-door windows gazed accusingly down at her, despite the absence of life. Hoping they're not home, she sucked diligently, her pussy uncomfortable, bikini filled with sand. Him looking pleased with himself as he enjoyed her careful ministrations.

After a while he wanted more and hauled her abruptly up by the arm, turning her to face the sea. A large hand encircling her neck, pushing her over, bent at the waist, legs straight and spread, bikini bottoms ripped down and stretched tight between her knees, making her feel even more naked and vulnerable than if they were off. He enjoyed seeing the flush of her skin where the sun had brightened her back and thighs, contrasting nicely with the ivory where her bikini had covered.

Her hands on the fence for support, so she could see the boys glancing back up at her. Even though she knew they could only see her head, she was certain they knew what was happening. Especially as her mouth opened into a shocked gasping O as he thrust up into her, dragging the sand into her silky depths, scratching her on the inside. "Please don't, it hurts. It's scraping me."

Looking down irritated, he slapped her sun-reddened thigh hard causing stinging pain to shoot up her leg and her head to whip around in shock, accusing eyes looking back at him.

"What did I say yesterday?" Another stinging slap. "About saying no to me!" A third for good measure. Her sun burned thigh now on fire.

"I... I... I should n-n-never say n-n-no?" Her eyes no longer accusing, just accepting and meek, bordering on tears. Preferring the scraping to that terrible sting of his hand.

"So, what do you want me to do?" Embedding the lesson into her consciousness. Staying still, hand holding her hair, cock pinning her tight depths with the grains of sand reminding them both of her earlier defiance.

"Please do what you want." Submissive. Body, heart and soul hurting, evident in her eyes as she looked back at him over her shoulder.

"Do what?" He growled, with pent up lust, still not moving.

"Please fuck me like you want. However you want." Complete capitulation. Looking forward, back to the boys on the beach. Still watching her, whispering to each other. The shame flooding her face with blood to match her sun-burned back.

He started pounding into her like a man possessed, his member feeling like sandpaper scraping against the sensitive skin on her vaginal walls. She could find no pleasure in this act, rather accepting and hoping he would finish soon. But that didn't stop her natural lubrication at the stimulation, making his slide easier and the scratching more intense on her heightened sensitivity. Even as he popped her breast out of the top, the sand scratched her sensitive tit flesh, causing more discomfort.