On the Aegean: Tied Up at Sea

It is an unspoken rule that every village needs a tramp. A village can have all the virtuous women in the world, but without at least one woman who will loosen her morals, it will surely implode.

Such was the common wisdom in the island village of Kos. The position had been filled for years by Daphne Rigini, but Daphne eventually got married and became respectable. And so Eleni Stefanopoulou stepped up to the responsibility. After her husband abandoned her when he was drafted into the Turkish armada, Eleni was lonely, and she enjoyed the company of men to take her mind off of her sorrow. Five years later, she was still fulfilling the duties required of the unofficial position. She worked on her uncle's farm by day, and by night she would meet men from the village and offer them brief bursts of ecstasy in the cloak of the warm evening air.

It was a good life, all things considered. Eleni was beautiful and admired. She felt important. And she was constantly enthralled by the moments of intimacy she shared with men around the village. She liked the way that Yiorgos Theodorakis would hold her neck when he kissed her. She liked the shy, steady pulse of Nikos Kazantzakis's fucking. She liked how Kostas Merakis would always bring her little gifts of fresh bread from his bakery. Eleni discovered a newfound freedom in the untethered pursuit of pleasure.

Still, there were some men who were decidedly off limits. Eleni's uncle generally had no objection to the open secret of Eleni's pastime, but he warned her never to give herself to a Turk. "They're not like us," he explained. "They worship a different God."

Eleni disliked the Turks as much as any other Greek in the village did-those powerful colonizers who taxed the Greeks twofold and brutally repressed any attempt to resist their rule. Still, the abstract Turks who ruled over the Ottoman Empire from afar with an iron fist did not really resemble the everyday Turks that Eleni saw in the village. The Turks of Kos bustled about selling fish and produce in the marketplace, haggling over the prices. They attended their mosques as dutifully as Christians attended their churches. And in the evenings, groups of Turkish men would sit on the docks, twirling their moustaches and pontificating about women, while not 200 meters away, groups of Greek men would do the same.

There was one man in particular who entered Eleni's thoughts more than she liked to admit. Deniz Ozturk. He was a fisherman, tall and full figured, with features that had been roughened over the years by the sea. Eleni liked the sight of his bulk; she liked observing the deft way his calloused hands would wind rope into intricate fishing nets. But it was not these qualities that set Deniz apart. It was the expression on his face, steadfast and unwavering with a continual twinkle in his eye, as if he was in on a joke that no one else around understood. Eleni seemed to see him everywhere. When she passed through the town market, she would see him selling the fresh fish he'd caught from his wicker basket. When she was collecting olives from her uncle's olive grove, she would hear him whistling as he walked by.

But of course, Eleni was never so crass as to actually talk to him. She simply observed him from afar. He, in turn, observed her. She could see him stealing glances at her when they bustled by each other. She felt the way his eyes took in the sight of her body, the way they bored through her clothes and imagined the possibilities for what lay beneath. It was a pleasurable game, this absent flirtation, made all the easier by the fact that there was no end goal. Sex was impossible; it was forbidden. But furtive glances and coy smiles were fair game.

It was one particular evening in late September that made Eleni change her mind. Eleni often took her uncle's sheep to pasture in the hills overlooking the port of Kos. She would walk up with them to the cliffs overlooking the sea and gaze out at the vast expanse of blue as it crashed against the rocks. There was a cove that one could look down upon as the sheep grazed, shielded on all sides by towering cliffs and reachable only by boat. Eleni liked observing its tranquil, turquoise waters. On this particular evening, however, Eleni looked down into cove and saw a sight that she never seen before: a boat.

She blinked. It was not the presence of the boat itself that made her doubt her senses, but the sight of what was going inside of it. Someone was tied to the mast of the small sailboat-a young Turkish man whom Eleni recognized as Ergin Utlu, the carpenter's son. He was naked. His bronze skin glinted in the sunlight. The other man on the boat, who had his back turned to Eleni, lashed at Ergin repeatedly with a bit of rope, eliciting audible gasps and moans from the boy. These were not gasps of injury or agony, however. Eleni could recognize arousal when she saw it, and she could easily detect the pleasure this man took in the pain. She watched in rapture as the lashing carved red welts across his legs and chest.

What delightful perversion was this? Eleni gazed at the other man on the boat, the one whose face was obscured. She took note of his broad shoulders, his calloused hands. The man turned around, and Eleni's insides churned with arousal. It was Deniz Ozturk. His rough-cut face glowed with that same knowing smile he always had, the one that seemed to see into everyone around him, to know them more deeply and thoroughly than even they knew themselves. As Eleni watched, he took hold of Ergin's leg and lifted it up so that his legs were spread apart. Then he penetrated Ergin with a deliberate, persistent thrust. Ergin's body shook with exertion, and his cries of elated helplessness echoed against the cliff rocks.

Ergin looked up to the top of the cliff and saw where Eleni sat watching the scene. Eleni took a step back, embarrassed, but it was too late. Deniz had turned his head abruptly to look up at her too. Deniz raised his eyebrows in recognition. Then he smiled broadly and, maintaining unwavering eye contact with Eleni, continued to pound Ergin.

Eleni's face was hot. She felt a rush of moisture swell between her legs as she watched the scene unfold beneath her. She was captivated by Deniz's gaze, held to spot by Deniz's eyes as securely as Ergin was held by the ropes around his wrists. Deniz fucked Ergin with a calm, easy mastery. He looked so solid in his ruddy white shirt and trousers. Ergin, in turn, had a liquid quality about him; his glistening body melted into Deniz's. When Deniz had finished taking his pleasure from the man, he offered Eleni a flirtatious wink, then turned away.

Eleni drew in a deep breath. Deniz's wink had been more than a playful gesture; it had been an invitation. He had offered to treat her as he had treated Ergin on the boat. And every inch of Eleni ached to accept his offer.

***

The next day, Eleni heard Deniz's familiar whistling as he walked past the olive grove where she worked. This time, she did not smile at him coyly or offer him any flirtatious winks. She walked straight up to him and spoke.

"That's a mighty fine boat you have, sir!" She stood in front of him, her feet planted on the ground, looking up at him with an expression that dared him to engage her. She had never been this close to him before. He was tall-at least a foot taller than she was-and he seemed to inhabit his height with the utmost ease, utterly at home in his body. His features had a fierceness around the edges, but there was a relaxed amiability that emanated from the center, and Eleni felt reassured.

Deniz's curved mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Yes, I've seen you eyeing my...boat. But alas, a respectable Greek woman like you would never let me take you for a ride on it." He winked at Eleni just as he had the day before on the boat. He spoke in Greek with a slight Turkish accent, but the words he said strung together into phrases just as clearly as a native speaker's

Eleni played along with his game, feigning nonchalance. "Yes, that's too bad, isn't it? Of course, I would love to see everything you have on that boat. The mast. The rigging. But it is not to be."

"I'll be docking off of Thanos beach at noon on Saturday. Just thought you should know."

"In that case I'll definitely make sure not to be there."

"Great. I won't see you then."

There was a pause, then they both laughed. Deniz's eyes twinkled, and Eleni's heart fluttered. He tipped his cap and walked on, whistling as he went.

***

All throughout the week, Eleni waited in anticipation for Saturday to come. On Wednesday night, she met Nikos Kazantzakis by the pier for a quick fuck in the alleyway behind the fishmonger's. He penetrated her cleanly and precisely from behind, whispering to her in soft tones that she had the best ass on the island. On Thursday, she gave Kostas Merakis a good sucking in the back room of his bakery. She knew how to coax an orgasm out of him quite deftly, having done so at this time every week for years. He, in turn, knew how to pull her hair and run his hands over every inch of her body in the just the way she liked it. But even during these moments of intimacy, Eleni's mind wandered back to Deniz. What would his hands feel like on her body? Would he strike her as he had struck Ergin? Eleni was captivated by the idea. Much as she enjoyed the comfortable pleasures of her usual lovers' company, there was something enthralling in the danger of a new affair.

On Saturday morning, Eleni got dressed in her prettiest summer outfit, the one with the white cotton dress and the embroidered blue velvet vest. She washed her hair and pinned it back underneath a matching blue headscarf. Then she packed a picnic basket filled with stuffed grape leaves, olives, figs, and spinach pies, and made her way by herself to the Thanos beach. She walked more quickly than usual, fearing that someone might pass her by and ask where she was going, but she met no one on the path to the beach, and when she arrived at the beach, it was deserted. She sat down on the sand, smoothed out her skirts, and waited for Deniz's boat.

Presently, she saw the sail of the boat appear around the edge of the protrusion of rocks that shielded the beach. She recognized Deniz's figure waving at her, and she stood up, climbed up over the rocks, and walked across them to where the boat stood anchored. Deniz helped her hop on board the boat. The boat was big enough to stand on comfortably. Benches adorned the sides with one large bench in the center, and Deniz had painted the outside a bright green, the color of leaves in spring.

Eleni stood before him and hesitated. Now that she finally had allowed herself to associate with Deniz, she found that she was not quite sure how to begin to say to him what she had always wanted to say. Instead, she simply told him, "I brought lunch," and thrust the picnic basket in his direction.

He thanked her for the basket, then shook his head, smiling. He sat down on one of the benches and gestured for Eleni to sit down next to him. "So you can talk straight with me now," he said. "No one else is around. What's your deal?"

Eleni decided that candor was the best route. She sat down next to Deniz and told him, "I want you, Deniz Ozturk. I always have."

"And then you see me tying someone up on my boat and you think, 'well now I have to have him?' Some might say that's pretty foolish of you."

Eleni chuckled. "Would you say that?"

"I'd say I can't believe my luck. The most beautiful woman on the island wants to submit to all the devilish things on my mind."

"You flatterer!"

"Fine, you want honesty? Third most beautiful woman. Behind Sarah Ekpuk and Maria Padiati."

She slapped him playfully on the shoulder in feigned shock.

"But seriously," he continued. "What does a beautiful Greek woman like yourself want from a Turk like me?"

Eleni smiled. "We worship the same god," she told him.

"Allah?"

"Aphrodite."

Deniz grinned. He took one finger and ran it around the edge of Eleni's face. "Is that so?"

Eleni continued earnestly, "I want you to do it all to me. Treat me like you treated Ergin the other day."

"Be careful what you wish for!" Deniz took Eleni's head in his hands and planted a kiss on her lips. "Now listen closely. You are going to be mine for the day. You will follow my orders immediately and enthusiastically, and you will submit to all the things I want to do to you. But if it ever becomes too much for you, you let me know. I want to hurt you; I don't want to injure you."

"Okay."

Deniz reached out his hand and pulled Eleni's kerchief off of her head. He ran his hand through her hair greedily. Women's hair was a rare sight on the island, where Christian and Muslim women alike covered their heads out of modesty. Deniz took in the forbidden texture of Eleni's long, dark, curly hair, winding his fingers around it. Then, suddenly, his fingers tightened, and he was pulling Eleni to her feet and tilting her head up by her hair. Eleni gasped in arousal. Deniz laughed. "Oh this is too easy! Take off your clothes. Now. All of them."

Eleni obeyed readily. As Deniz maintained a firm grasp on her hair, she fumbled to undo the buttons of her vest. When the vest was cast aside, she began undoing the front buttons of her dress. "Faster," Deniz ordered. Eleni tried to move her hands as fast as she could, stepping out of her dress and almost tripping on it as she did so. Then finally, she took off her underthings and cast them to ground. She smiled up at Deniz, naked. She felt the sea breeze caress her exposed skin, impressing upon her the enthralling vulnerability of her position-she naked and exposed, he fully clothed and utterly in command.

Next, Deniz led Eleni to the wide bench in the center of the boat and made her lie down on it. He produced several short lengths of rope and began to tie her hands and legs to the bench in such a way that her legs were pulled upward and spread wide, exposing her nether regions. He gave them an affectionate pat. Finally, he wound a piece of rope several times around Eleni's mouth, gagging her.

"Comfortable?"

Eleni did not feel particularly comfortable, but she did not feel uncomfortable either, so she simply made a muffled noise of assent.

"Excellent. We're going to go for a little jaunt around the island."

Eleni watched Deniz bustle about, positioning the sails to move the boat away from the beach. She felt the rocking of the boat and the shifting in the breeze as the boat moved at a clip around the island. The ropes hugged her wrists and her legs, giving Eleni the sensation of being compressed, drawn into her body. She felt the sea breeze on her exposed genitals, which dripped with the residue of her arousal.

When Deniz had finished guiding the ship away from the beach, he sat by the sails and observed Eleni. She felt his calm, measured gaze consume her, taking in every detail of her body. No secrets of Eleni's body were out of his sight: he could see the tufty hair that crowned her pubic area; he could observe the way her nipples hardened as the wind tickled them. Eleni was not sure how long they sailed like this, listening to the sounds of the waves lap against the edge of the boat and watching the wispy clouds roll by. Time felt stretched out into an eternity, but in truth it was probably only half an hour.

Presently, Deniz sailed the boat into the cove with the cliffs on every side, the one in which Eleni had spotted him a few days before. He anchored the boat and put down the sails, and then he took a seat in front of the bench where Eleni lay tied up. "You look so nice," he said, almost to himself. He picked something up from underneath the bench. Tilting her head upward, Eleni recognized the object as a bottle of olive oil. Deniz poured a bit of the oil on his hands and rubbed them together, then he ran them over Eleni's legs, coating them with a thin layer of the viscous liquid. He repeated this action several times, running his hands over every inch of Eleni's body. Her stomach, her legs, her feet, her neck, her breasts-he made them all glisten in the sunlight and feel smooth to the touch. "There," he cooed, "just how I like you."

The next object Deniz produced was a small pair of sewing scissors. He ran the blade over Eleni's legs, scratching her with it and making her skin crawl. "Be very still," he ordered. And he began snipping at the hair around Eleni's genitals, shearing it short. Eleni breathed in and out heavily, feeling a thrill of fear each time he brought the scissors close to her skin. But the scissors never nicked her skin. Deniz snipped with a calm, concentrated fervor, discarding layers of hair and revealing the hidden treasure that lay beneath. Eleni felt as if he were slowly peeling away her last protective garment, the substance that shielded her from the outside world. She felt more vulnerable toward him now than she had felt toward any man before.

When the last of the long hairs were out of the way, Deniz ran his hands over Eleni's nether regions, feeling the folds of her labia, the protrusion of her clitoris, and the crevice of her vagina. Eleni was struck by the realization that these parts of her, which underneath the matte of hair had seemed so mysterious, now had a distinct and visible topography of hills and valleys. As Deniz's fingers brushed up and down the sides of her clitors, a deep moan of pleasure escaped her lips.

"Can you take a little pain for me?" Deniz asked.

"Uh huh," responded Eleni through the ropes in her mouth, her pulse quickening. Deniz took a short strip of leather out of his pocket. He flicked it at Eleni's leg, and Eleni gasped as the small weapon imprinted a sharp line of pain onto her leg. Deniz hit her again, this time harder, making Eleni whimper in pain.

He chuckled. "You asked for this, remember," he teased. He struck her again, higher up on her leg, then again an inch higher than the last time. Clenching her jaw, Eleni looked down at her legs. Red welts were beginning to appear in straight lines across her leg where he had hit her. Deniz positioned the strip an inch higher than the highest mark and hit her again. A pattern of parallel lines was imprinted Eleni's left leg, and it was clearly Deniz's intent to carve this pattern onto her in this sharp, painful manner. Deniz worked his way up Eleni's left leg, then switched to her right leg and made the same pattern. Each blow bit into Eleni, and she whimpered in pain as he hit her. But the exercise was also elating. Eleni wanted to look exactly how Deniz wanted her to look. She wanted him to unmake her and remake her in accordance with the sadistic whims of his imagination.

Deniz wet his hands in the olive oil again and ran his hands over Eleni's sore legs. She reveled in the softness of his touch after the sharpness of the blows. "Good girl," he murmured. "You took that very well for me."

"Thank you," Eleni tried to say, but her words were muffled by the gag.

"I am going to have some lunch. You hang tight. Don't go anywhere." He grinned at her. Eleni raised one eyebrow in response. Deniz fetched the picnic basket and began to gorge himself on one of the spinach pies inside, teasing her with it. "You know, this is really delicious. You should try some."

Eleni gave out a whimper.

Deniz clearly delighted in teasing her. "Just hop up and pick one up from the basket. What's stopping you? And the figs! You know they really are excellent when they're in season..."

Eleni made a meek attempt to struggle against the ropes that bound her, but she could tell that she was bound too tightly for escape. Deniz began to eat the stuffed grape leaves, gazing down at her as he did so. "This is the best view on the island right here," he told her. "The cliffs. The sea. You. Looking so helpless." He rested his hand on her bruised leg, feeling it with his fingers as if appreciating his handiwork. He finished off the grape leaves and the figs, then started on the olives. Eleni began to wonder if there would be any lunch left for her by the time he was finished.