Kendra at the Beach

Kendra at the Beach

Author's Note:

Unlike other Kendra stories, this one contains some consensual pain play. Don't worry, it's not Kendra. I wouldn't break her character that badly. But I thought I'd warn you. Fans of my Theo stories will expect some S&M (mostly S), but Kendra fans won't.

This story is longer than most of the Kendra stories, and once it got going, I ended up throwing everything but the kitchen sink at it. Let me know if you like it.

Kendra was lying on her back on the bed, wearing some of the new gear I had bought for our kidnapping role-play of a few weeks ago. She likes the snap-cuffs that snap shut and lock around her elbows and wrists with the touch of a release, holding her firmly yet comfortably in their rubber-coated grip with her arms crossed wrist-to-elbow behind her back.

She was wearing the new neoprene gag as well. She says that her usual red leather panel gag with the soft flattish stuffer is still the most comfortable for extended wear, but for shorter periods, the neoprene gag is a turn-on. She thinks that the rows of meaningless buckles are a bit silly, but she admits that they add to the appearance of strictness, and that the big rubber ball the gag holds in her mouth does an excellent job of holding her tongue down. In particular, she likes the way the soft neoprene moulds to her face and totally prevents any sound from escaping around it. I have to admit that I find it sexy as hell, and almost come in my pants every time I see her wearing it.

Our newest restraint is a metre-long ankle spreader with a telescoping dildo pole attached at the centre. The dildo, buried in either her anus or vagina, holds her legs ramrod-straight and prevents any significant knee or hip flex. Kendra says she loves the feeling of extreme restraint and helplessness she gets when she's strapped into it. Currently, the large dildo was in her ass, leaving her pussy free for me to explore whenever I wanted to.

I was in the next room, doing some searches on my computer while I let the pressure build in Kendra's immobilized body. I don't believe in driving a woman repeatedly to the edge of orgasm without letting her finish -- that's more sadistic than sexy in my opinion, and in Kendra's too. But leaving her for a while in restraints that prevent her from getting herself off seems to bring her to a nice slow boil that makes the orgasm that much more mind-shattering when we get to it. I had left the bedroom door open so I would be able to hear if she decided to use her safe-grunt to demand early release, but so far she's never used it.

I decided that it was time to return to the bedroom and put both of us out of our current state of aching genitalia. My cock was hard as a rock from me just thinking of her tied up in the next room, and I was willing to bet that Kendra had already soaked the pad under her pussy. When I came through the door, the musky scent of female arousal proved me right.

As soon as she saw me, Kendra writhed her body -- as much of it as was writhe-able, anyway -- making her breasts jiggle enticingly. She made a particularly drawn-out and urgent "Mmmmmppphh" noise behind the gag. I stripped off my clothes, pulling my underwear down slowly as usual so my cock was forced down by the elastic, only to pop up again as soon as it was fully free.

"I think somebody's impatient to get some hot cock pushed into them, no?" Kendra writhed again as I loosened the knob on the telescoping pole so I could force another few centimetres into her ass before I tightened it again. She grunted a bit as she felt the dildo sink even further into her, but it wasn't a grunt of pain. I knew her rectum would have loosened up a bit more while she laid there with the dildo locked in it, and would be able to take a little more ramming by now. There wasn't much that Kendra liked better than having her ass deeply penetrated.

I ran my hand over her pussy, and yes, it was certainly soaking wet. I squeezed a breast with the other hand, saying "I guess you were jiggling these at me because they wanted attention, right?" She made a contented purr-like noise as I ran my fingers over her nipple and her clit. I massaged both parts rhythmically, feeling them get even harder and more engorged than they had been when I first touched them. First two fingers, then three and finally four went in her vagina and started thrusting slowly in and out. Once, I had experimented with trying to work my whole fist carefully inside her body, but Kendra called it off with a squeal of pain and a shake of her head. Her vagina is pretty stretchable, but it drew the line at fisting. I left my thumb out of her hole and put it to use briskly rubbing her clit.

After all the time she had spent lying there waiting for it, her first orgasm hit almost immediately. She couldn't stiffen much more than she already was with the dildo pole up her ass and clamped to the spreader, but she threw her head back and screamed ecstatically into the gag. She clamped down firmly on my fingers, and I held them still while the orgasm washed over her body, then gently receded.

I worked two more orgasms out of her with my hand. Then I decided that it was time to get my aching balls properly drained. I eased my fingers out of her pussy and slid my cock where they had been, thrusting slowly and then gradually speeding up. After a four-finger stretch-out, you'd think she might have been pretty loose, but her well-trained Kegel muscles allowed her to grip my penis firmly while my orgasm built. Her body jerked on the bed with each thrust, working the dildo in and out of her ass slightly each time. She was on the edge of another orgasm, and I held back until I could feel it sweep over her, then released my pent-up load into her body.

We laid on the bed, spent, for quite a while. Then I started unfastening Kendra's restraints. After we had gotten ourselves cleaned up with a quick turn in the shower, I said, "Let me show you what I was working on so diligently while you were getting good and horny in the bedroom."

As we walked back from the bathroom to the computer room, I waved at the window and said, "Just look outside." Slushy snow still covered the city, and the leaden sky looked as though it was going to shit more on us any time. "Now that we've had both our COVID shots, I was thinking it might be getting time to get the hell out of here to somewhere warm for a while. The American border is still closed, but some of the tropical sun spots have gotten their vaccine act together and are starving for business. I eliminated a lot of places that are still having outbreaks, but that still left a reasonable number of sunny spots that are pretty safe. And look what I found in one of them." I turned my screen so she could see it.

It was a clothing-optional resort on an obscure Caribbean island. Clothing-optional resorts aren't unusual, but this one had an added twist: it catered to BDSM enthusiasts. It particularly targeted couples with male doms and female subs, but it wasn't picky. Female doms and male subs were welcome, as well as switches, same-sex couples, and any other combinations. Singles were also welcome, and opportunities would be provided for picking up playmates for the day or for your whole stay.

There seemed to be only a few rules, all of them around consent and safety. Otherwise, no holds were barred. If you wanted, you could have sex right on the beach, in or out of restraints. You were encouraged to bring your own personal toys, but you could also book a dungeon with larger equipment: racks, bondage frames, spanking benches, pillories, and just about anything else a pair of bondage enthusiasts might want.

"I'm glad you waited until you'd gotten me off before you showed me that. Otherwise I might have creamed myself right here in the office chair. Kev, that's a totally wonderful idea. I have some vacation coming up that my boss is begging me to clear off the books as soon as possible. And just look at the discounts they're offering to get their business rebooted after they've been shut down for so long."

We booked a two-week all-inclusive package, right then and there.

**

As we wheeled our bags into the lobby of the resort to check in, I could see what the on-line brochure meant. Some people were wearing clothes of one kind or another, usually some sort of fetish wear featuring a lot of leather, latex and metal and not always covering up very much skin. Some were totally naked. One woman walked by in a collar, handcuffs, a ball gag, and nothing else, being towed by a man holding a leash attached to her collar. Another was wearing a strict-looking chastity belt, walking with that slightly awkward gait that suggested that she had things locked in her pussy and/or ass. The clientele reminded me of the audience at one of T'Jalla's bondage wear shows, and we felt slightly out of place in our respectable travel clothes. The only thing we didn't see were COVID masks, which made sense given that you couldn't get within a thousand metres of the resort without proof of two vaccinations at least two weeks prior.

Our bags were heavy, but not with a lot of clothing. With difficulty, we had whittled our bondage equipment down to a relatively few favourites, but we still allowed ourselves a few bulkier items, including our beloved doggy-style bondage frame folded neatly into its case. Even though we had stayed away from heavy steel toys as much as possible, we had still struggled to keep our bags down to 22 kilos. A lot of bondage toys are just naturally heavy.

Our room was lovely, a small suite with a four-poster king bed, and a mini-kitchen and separate sitting room with a balcony that overlooked the beach. There wasn't much about the room that was specific to bondage, except that I noticed eyebolts here and there along the walls and around the doorframe, as well as on the posts of the four-poster bed. I also noticed that the legs of the long coffee table in front of the couch looked scuffed, as if ropes had repeatedly been tied to them. If you wanted something better equipped, you'd need to rent one of the dungeons. We were pretty sure that we could make do here, although we agreed that it would be fun to try out a dungeon at least once.

We got dressed in nothing but sandals, sun hats and small shoulder bags to hold our room cards, sunscreen, and other essentials, and went exploring. There were bars and restaurants both attached to the main building and scattered around the resort, and the obligatory small shop that sold snacks, drinks, toiletries, condoms, and overpriced bondage equipment.

We were hungry from having subsisted on airplane food for most of the day, so we stopped by the buffet, stepping around a naked woman kneeling on the floor in handcuffs and eating from a dog dish. She had a little doggy tail protruding from a butt plug her ass. Not our brand of kink, but whatever makes you happy. I noticed that the chairs all had towels on them, not a bad idea considering the body parts that might be in contact with them. Another echo of T'Jalla's shows.

It was still late afternoon and there was lots of sun left to enjoy, so we headed to the beach. There, almost everyone was naked. A few people were enthusiastically having sex, but most were just doing what people do on a beach: lying in the sun reading, dozing or otherwise just unwinding. One woman was suspended by her wrists from an overhanging tree branch, and another was chained to a beach lounge, but most people seemed willing to wait to get back to their rooms before getting into whatever they liked to get into.

We commandeered a couple of lounge chairs, had a swim and then just stretched out and air-dried, relishing not having to deal with wet bathing suits. We were conscious of our Canadian-winter skin tones. Even Kendra's skin looked a bit pale compared to some of the people who had obviously been here long enough to really brown up.

We had a brief orientation meeting at 7:30, so we didn't allow ourselves to get too comfortable. Besides, we didn't want to get too much sun the first day or two, sunscreen or not. Aside from the parts that hadn't seen sun since September, I was tanning parts that had never seen any, ever. Even Kendra had to be a bit careful, considering that her half-European skin isn't all that dark. We packed up our meagre possessions and headed off to the orientation.

We got a rundown of the amenities and some of the equipment we could rent (not confined to bondage equipment), and tours we could book. Unfortunately, for any of the off-resort tours, we'd have to dress at least minimally. The rest of the orientation focussed on safety and consent, especially the latter.

"You all probably have your own safewords, but so everybody is on the same page, I'm going to give you the same Island safeword: 'Antelope.' The safe-grunt is three short grunts, a pause, then three more -- sort of a truncated SOS through the nose. Any time you hear someone use one of those signals, take a quick look around. You should see a dom stopping whatever they're doing and checking on a sub. If you don't see the dom stopping, or don't see a dom around at all, call security, or if necessary, intervene until you're satisfied that the sub is safe.

"Further to that, never get out of earshot of a sub, especially if they're gagged, for more than ten minutes, tops. If they need to safeword out, you need to be there to hear them. It's a really serious infraction to leave someone alone in bondage for any length of time.

"Now, get a tan and have some fun."

**

We spent the first three days or so mostly lounging around on and off the beach, trying out the various restaurants and just unwinding. We had bondage sex on the beach a couple of times, just for the novelty and the exhibitionistic thrill of it, but mostly we kept the sex in our room.

The fourth day, I felt like trying one of the other amenities. "Hey, Kendra, you have your scuba certification, right? I have mine too, but it's been at least a couple of years since I've done it. You want to rent some equipment and try a dive?"

"That sounds like a blast. I love scuba, but I haven't had a chance for a long time either."

We walked to the beach shack and got equipped. We were only planning a single-tank dive, nothing too fancy, but we were both excited, having been told that there's lots of interesting scenery just a short distance off the beach and at depths of well under thirty metres.

We packed up our equipment and headed down to the water. For fans of public bondage, there were restraint positions dotted around in little groups just at the edge of the sand, and we passed a group of three Saint Andrew's crosses partly shaded under some trees. Only one was currently occupied. A well tanned white woman with a cascade of dark brown hair was tied to it at the wrists and ankles with many neat turns of what looked like white cotton rope, a panel gag across the lower part of her face. A crotch rope ran through her pussy and was knotted around a big dildo to hold it far up her vagina. I could see some red marks on her legs that looked like healing whip marks.

She seemed to be struggling with the rope bondage, but it wasn't budging. I stopped for a few seconds to make sure she was all right, and she seemed to be. It's considered fine to look at someone in public bondage, but not to stare, and certainly not to invade another couple's scene, so we continued on to the water's edge. Still, I couldn't help wondering where her dom was.

We put on all our gear and walked backwards into the water to keep our flippers from curling up and trying to come off. When we got to shoulder depth, we lowered our masks, put our respirators in our mouths, and sank under the surface. For a minute we just enjoyed the sight of each other under water, her breasts and my penis floating weightless in ways we had never seen before. Then we went exploring.

At first there wasn't much but sand and rocks, but as we got further out and the water deepened, the bottom got more interesting. There wasn't much coral, but sea plants and colourful tropical fish were everywhere. We saw a small octopus skuttle away when it saw us, disappearing between two rocks for safety. Spiny rock lobster grazing on the bottom ignored us completely as we drifted by. I wondered if we'd meet any of them again at the seafood table.

Eventually our air was getting to the point where we started heading in. We still had lots, but we didn't want to push too close to the line. When we got into shallower water, Kendra came up beside me and started stoking my cock. It was pretty clear what she had in mind, and I didn't need convincing. I had never had sex under water before, but this seemed like the perfect time to try it.

We got closer to shore and came up so we were only a metre or less under the surface. We didn't want to take chances on being too deep if someone's mask got knocked off or something. We don't usually have sex without some kind of restraints, but this was clearly no tine for those -- "recipe for disaster" doesn't half describe it. I guess technically we were both gagged by our respirators, so that would have to do by way of bondage.

I considered positions. With tanks on our backs, sex from behind looked like a non-starter, so I floated closer to Kendra from the front and gently hooked two fingers in her pussy. That allowed me to pull her closer, our bodies touching in the warm, crystal-clear water, her nipples brushing mine. She hooked her legs around me, her ankles behind my knees, and my cock slid into her, her pussy feeling wet with more than sea water.

We didn't get fancy. I just rocked against her, her legs keeping me from being pushed away as we floated. We both came in a rush, spurred on by the unreal novelty of the weightless experience, bubbles erupting explosively from the regulators as we cried out into our mouthpieces.

We held each other and floated for a minute, getting our breath back and letting the salt water wash the sex juices off our bodies. Then, our air supply nearly gone, we surfaced and paddled back to the beach.

**

We walked out of the water, did a quick cold-water rinse at the beachside shower to get the salt off, and headed back up to our beach lounges, blissfully tired out from our swim and our underwater sex. We laid back and dried in the sun again, chatting about what we had seen under the water and planning the rest of our day. Maybe we'd try the steak house on the other side of the property that people were raving about.

It was time to take our equipment back to the rental shack, so we packed up and headed away from the water. As we got closer to the bondage crosses, I noticed that the same woman was still tied to one. She seemed to have given up struggling and just hung dejectedly from her bound wrists. Her "cascade of dark brown hair" had turned into sweat-soaked strands plastered to her face and body. The sand was wet beneath her spread legs, as though she had given up the fight to hold her bladder. Still no dom in sight.

I got closer to her and she noticed me. "Uh-uh-uh. Uh-uh-uh." I was pretty sure that it was the safe-grunt, but I was still too far away to be sure, so I got closer.

"What did you say?"

"Uh-uh-uh. Uh-uh-uh." This time there was no mistaking it.

I walked right up to her. "Want me to get that gag off so you can tell me what you need?" She nodded enthusiastically. I looked behind her head and saw that the fucking thing was locked in place with a brass padlock. My scuba gear included a small but very sharp sheath knife. I got it out of the bag, but before I used it, I asked, "Do you want me to cut it off?" I didn't want to be responsible for ruining someone's bondage toy without permission.