K's Candy Ch. 026

Every house on Copper Beech Lake that was directly on the water had a dock. A dock was a necessary feature even if one didn't own a boat; selling a house without a dock would cost money off the asking price.

I was out on the dock Monday morning, touching up the paint here and there. Katherine was sleeping in, so this was the prefect time to get this done before it got too warm.

Today as it turned out we'd be making use of the dock. Mistress' friend Chet was loaning us his boat for the day. I was looking forward to this; I hadn't been out on a boat in ages.

Our destination today was Pear Island, more than halfway across the lake from our house. I was to prepare a picnic lunch and we were heading out there as soon as Chet showed up, in about an hour's time. I had never been to Pear Island...according to Katherine it was a beautiful spot, not close to shore and not too close to any other islands.

It was a beautiful day, and I wondered if we'd have much privacy there. I put this question aside and concentrated on finding the little spots that needed painting and carefully applying the white.

I finished up the painting and made my way back up to the house, needing to get lunch and beverages ready and packed.

I was zooming around the kitchen when Mistress emerged, stretching, and rubbing Her eyes. I was going to stop and fix Her some breakfast, but She insisted She'd just have cereal and that I should continue with that I was doing.

I glanced sidelong at Mistress as I continued my work, trying not to giggle at Her inability to locate the Special K, or a bowl. To Her credit She was able to find a spoon and the milk. I intervened and got the cereal and bowl for Her, needing Her out of my hair.

Mistress sat the kitchen table with Her cereal and I continued my chores, getting some coffee going as well.

Between crunches She asked me how warm it was getting, how much breeze there was, etc. It was going to be a warm day, with light winds. That would limit the sailboat traffic a bit, anyway.

I wanted to ask what Chet's boat was like...I wanted to know if we were going to be boating out to Pear Island on a little runabout, screaming to each other over outboard engine noise, or cruising in style. I figured I'd let myself be surprised and assumed the reality would end up somewhere in the middle.

I got everything ready and packed. We made our way down to the dock, and after a couple of minutes I could see two boats approaching. One looked to be sizable, and really nice; the other was a tiny runabout. I told myself that the runabout was Chet's ride back to his house, and not our boat for the day.

The boats came close and slowed to dock. I caught a line from the big boat, which was probably 30 feet in length, and watched as Chet expertly guided the boat, the bumpers doing their job and squeezing between hull and dock. I then caught the line from the runabout and watched as a young man, by the look of him Chet's son, came to rest at the dock.

Chet disembarked and exchanged a hug with Mistress. I was introduced and couldn't help noticing Chet's ever so slightly lingering look. I couldn't blame him--in my bikini top, shorts, sneakers, and cute little ponytail I had to admit I looked damn good.

Once on board, Chet showed us where the life jackets were, how to stop and restart the engines if necessary, the GPS/Navigation system, emergency communications system, etc. But he was giving Mistress a perfunctory version -- clearly Katherine had driven boats, and this particular boat, before. I smiled; so much I didn't know about Her, still.

The Molly Belle, named after Chet's late wife and his adult daughter I later found out, was equipped with every conceivable bit of technology -- for fishing, navigation, travel, and safety. It was lavishly appointed, spotlessly clean, above deck and below. One would have to make the usual boat compromises when it came to cooking/showering, etc., but certainly could spend a couple nights on this boat with no problem.

Chet cast the line off from the dock and in no time, we were headed for Pear Island. I stood next to Mistress as we cruised along at a leisurely pace. There are few things that feel as good as being on a boat on a beautiful summer day.

It was perhaps three miles to Pear Island. I kidded Mistress that at our current pace we might get there before nightfall. In reality, the navigation system said we'd be there in 28 minutes. The lake was not nearly as crowded as I'd been expecting. It was Monday after all and I'm sure that was a factor. We saw a boat here and there, fishing, mostly.

I asked Mistress why She didn't have a boat...clearly, She knew boats and enjoyed them.

She sighed a little. "I wonder that Myself, candy. Rick is always saying I should get a boat -- he's a big boater. I guess I figure that it's not worth it for the limited number of times I'd get to use it."

I nodded, listening. Mistress was a practical person. That She could easily afford a boat was secondary to the fact that She didn't think She was at the lake enough to make appropriate use of said boat.

The idea that Rick was a boater threw me a little. Rick didn't have a house up here. Katherine read my mind. "Rick has a beach house on Sable Point. He's big into the ocean...deep sea fishing and all that."

I laughed to myself. If Rick were to have a beach house, it could be nowhere other than Sable Point, famous for being the summer retreat of the rich and famous. Rick Travers might be the least well-known person to have a place there. I imagined Rick and Lenka turning heads at La Plage, the venerable seaside bistro where celebrities and the idle rich went to relax and enjoy classics and fresh seafood, away from paparazzi eyes. The owners actually had a security boat that kept looky-loos and photographers from getting too close. Getting in the front door if you didn't have a reservation required a court order, pretty much. And the story, apocryphal surely, was that some of La Plage's customers had used their influence to have a no-fly zone created over the area in order to keep paparazzi helicopters away.

Where they had their summer houses perfectly aligned with the people that Katherine and Rick were. Mistress liked Her lake house, which was big and beautiful but unassuming. Once there one settled into the rhythms of a sleepy little town. Whereas Rick was perfectly suited to the jet set atmosphere of Sable Point, with all of its celebrity buzz and appropriately fawning tradespeople.

We smiled and exchanged a glance as Pear Island came into view. From this distance all I could see were trees...Mistress explained that the dock was on the southwest side of the island, opposite from the direction we were approaching. I felt the boat turn gradually as Mistress made for the far side of the island.

The southwest side of the island came into view. I could see the dock, a small sand beach, and most importantly of all, no other boats docked and no people.

Mistress expertly slowed the boat and I took careful aim and tossed the loop of the line onto a piling. We settled to a stop and I hopped off and secured the boat to the dock. I was about to get back on board to get our lunch, beach chairs, etc. when Mistress stopped me.

"Let's take the nickel tour first, candy."

We walked up a narrow path from the little beach that threaded between the trees. I'd been expecting Pear Island to be more or less completely wooded other than the immediate shoreline. I'd been assuming that the island was so named because it was more or less pear-shaped. But it quickly became obvious that Pear Island was named for the wild pear trees that were seemingly everywhere.

It looked as if someone had tried to cultivate the wild pears at some point, as space had been cleared out between groups of trees. But it was clear that there'd been no human intervention here for some time.

I looked at Mistress. "Are wild pears any good to eat?" I'd never had one or even seen them for sale.

Mistress laughed. "I guess in the 1700s people thought they were good to eat. I would tell you to try one, but I love you too much to subject you to that."

I chuckled as we kept walking. Pear Island was clearly not tiny. (20.2 acres, Mistress later told me). She also filled me in on the fact that Pear Island was one of the few islands in the lake that wasn't privately owned. But the town didn't do anything in particular to maintain it...everyone who went there or fished near there did their own little part to keep the place clean.

There were some areas that had been completely cleared, and the remnants of a couple of what I guessed were houses a long time ago. Nothing remained now but parts of the foundation and ravaged chimneys.

We circled back to the dock eventually. Mistress had me get the beach chairs and some drinks from the boat. It was still a bit early for lunch, so we set the chairs up on the short beach and relaxed, enjoying non-alcoholic beverages for what seemed like the first time in a while.

Mistress looked out at the water. "Actually, some people do make jelly from wild pears. All that sugar makes them palatable. It used to be a pretty common thing...less so, now. But some people still take a ride out here and pick wild pears for jelly.

"They used to hunt rabbits here, too. Back in the 1840s, a few people lived here. They kept rabbits for food. At some point some rabbits got loose and bred like, well...rabbits."

I laughed.

"With no predators out here the rabbit population quickly got out of hand. The town allowed more or less unlimited hunting and that kept the rabbits somewhat in check. Finally, about 40 years ago the state came and captured a bunch and relocated them and sterilized some others. Since then, the rabbit population has been manageable.                           

I offered that I didn't see any when we walked around the island.

Katherine nodded. "Having been hunted for generations has made Pear Island rabbits very smart and wary."

I was forming a joke about "wascally wabbits" when Mistress turned and looked at me. Her expression was serious, a little too suddenly serious, given the lighthearted time we'd been having.             

Before I could ask Her what was wrong, She spoke.

"I don't know if you think about it, candy...I assume you do, but I want you to know that should anything ever happen to Me, you're taken care of." Her words seemed to hang there, as if waiting for a strong breeze to blow them away.

I had thought about it, but only in passing and never in any serious way. I guess I just assumed that Mistress had this all covered. And of course, She did. But I did wonder what had prompted Her to bring this up, now.

Mistress sipped her iced tea and continued. "There are two aspects to this."

I listened. Her tone wasn't somber...it was more matter of fact, not quite lawyerly, but certainly not very emotional.

"The first part is monetary. I have no living relatives, as you know, so if something were to happen, it's all yours. And..."

The light changed as a cloud obscured the Sun a moment.

"And without going into gory details, it's plenty. It's more than plenty."

I silently sighed with relief that Mistress hadn't gone into detail. I didn't care and didn't want to know.

"How it's all yours is where the other aspect comes into play."

I tilted my head.

"Over time, a girl gets used to living what I'll call the owned life. This isn't a bad thing...it's a natural outgrowth of submitting and surrendering so deeply. It's a desired state, but there can be a problem if the Owner is suddenly removed from the picture."

I hadn't really thought about this until now, but Mistress' point was not lost on Me. I felt an actual physical chill as I thought about not Mistress not being around any more.

"So, odd and off-putting as it might seem, I've made a provision if heaven forbid the worst happened."

I didn't even know if I wanted to hear this, but the look in Katherine's eyes told me that I was going to hear it.

"If anything were to happen to Me, my dear friend Astrid would take you on, candy, only of course if that were something you decided you wanted. I have no doubt that She would be very good to and for you, and clearly, it's something we both hope never comes to pass.

"Were you to desire to be Astrid's, the proceeds of My estate would go into a trust, that you could terminate at any time by declaring your willingness to. If you decided not to be with Astrid, you would immediately inherit My estate, free and clear."

Mistress' expression changed. She was smiling now, warmly.

"I understand that the whole topic is nothing anyone wants to talk about, pet, but I needed you to know that I had accounted for the contingencies, unlikely as they might be, to take the best care of you, always. Believe me when I tell you that it's nothing I wanted to deal with or think about, Myself.

She leaned towards me and took my hand in Hers. "I love you, candy. I'll always look out for My girl in every way I need to."

I squeezed Her hand and felt a tear run down my right cheek. The idea of belonging to anyone but Katherine was something I couldn't begin to process, but the biggest single feeling I had was appreciation.

"I love You, Mistress. Thank You for always taking care of me."

There was a long pause. Finally, Mistress spoke again.

"And not that this matters so much, but if this scenario ever came to pass and you ended up with Astrid, you'd be exceptionally well off, even without My estate. I have money but Astrid has money."

I had to giggle at Mistress' emphasis on the word, stressing the different levels of wealth between Herself and Astrid.

Mistress went on to tell me that Her best friend Astrid was the sole heir and largest single stockholder of a gigantic international cosmetics company. On top of that the Woman apparently was a sorceress when it came to investing -- She'd increased her given wealth quite a bit over time.

Mistress let go of my hand. "OK, all that depressing talk made Me hungry!"

I got up off of the chair and went to bring lunch and more drinks from the boat.

* * * * *

The right setting can make the most mundane food taste great. Sitting there on the beach at Pear Island with Mistress made ham and cheese sandwiches, Utz potato chips, and Diet Coke feel like a gourmet meal.

Vacation was off to a great start. Mistress already seemed very relaxed and happy, and that was my number one measure of how well things were going. Of course, I was having a great time myself...I was submissive and devoted but I wasn't ashamed of enjoying myself or of acknowledging it.

I got up to start taking care of the trash when Mistress stopped me. "That can wait, candy."

I turned and Mistress was laying on a towel, naked except for Her T-shirt. I gulped in surprise and delight.

Katherine opened Her legs and stretched a little. I didn't need any further guidance.

I lowered myself to Her, hands gently sliding under Her. I inhaled deeply, savoring the scent. I lowered my head and began to kiss and softly lick, moaning a little.

I heard Mistress' sounds and felt Her fingers slide through my hair. My tongue trailed down, slowly, exploring Her as if I'd never been here before, feeling Her growing wetness tingle on my tongue.

The combination of sensations -- the scent and taste of Her, the soft silkiness on my tongue, the feeling of Her gentle grip in my hair, the sun and the breeze on my skin -- propelled me into a deeper state of devotion. My world shrunk to the thing I was doing at this very moment; nothing else existed.

In that state, time disengaged for me. Mistress' reactions were my guide...I didn't know it was two minutes or twenty when I felt Her body start to convulse and heard Her cries of ecstasy. I almost came spontaneously, hearing Her and feeling Her grasp on my hair tighten as She climaxed.

Katherine's body relaxed and ever so gently kissed at Her, smiling inside at the intense sweetness I could taste.

"Mmmmmmm good girl, candy. The best..."

I lifted my head and looked up her, kissing Her lower abdomen. "Thank You Mistress...thank You."

I laid my head on Her stomach and closed my eyes. Mistress' fingers were gently swirling through my hair and the late afternoon sun intensified the gentle glow inside me.

* * * * *

I tossed a pad on the floor and knelt next to Mistress as She drove us back to our dock. This wasn't on any order from Her; it was one of those spontaneous things -- just me caught up in the moment. It was as if love and devotion were oozing out my pores like sweat and I couldn't control it.

I felt Her reach down with Her free hand. Two fingers gently hooked under my collar, and I moaned softly.

Kneeling up tall I could see our dock looming close now. Chet and his son were already there, the runabout tied off.

Mistress looked down at me and I looked up at Her at the same moment.

"Maybe I should reconsider the whole owning a boat thing, candy."