Spice Plantation Ch. 05

At last Susan began to say goodbye to the villagers, many of whom she seemed to know very well and we made our way back to the aircraft. By now it was well into the afternoon and quite warm, although I expected it might become quite cool when we were airborne. We each put on the leather flying jackets and Susan went through her series of preflight checks. I was about to climb back into the front cockpit when she stopped me.

"Alex, I think I'd like to try something on the way back. It's been three years since I've done this, but I think you'll enjoy it. Why don't you climb into the back instead."

I was a little uncertain because I knew that the rear position was the pilot's. And I certainly was not going to be the pilot. But I nodded and placed myself in the rear seat. Susan made sure I snugged the safety belt tightly. I then expected her to get into the front, but she surprised me by starting to climb in the rear with me. "I'm going to sit on your lap," she announced.

Well, it was a fairly tight fit, but I'll admit her tight little bottom and legs did feel nice against me. She produced another wide leather belt and strapped it around the seat bottom and herself, providing a second safety belt. I probably looked confused and uncertain because Susan twisted her head around and said, "Don't worry about it, Alex. I can fly perfectly well from here and it will let us talk without having to shout quite so loud. We'll still have to yell, but it will be easier. And I'm going to show you a few acrobatics and this way I can make sure it's not too much for you. Maybe I'll even show you a really special maneuver."

She called to one of two native men who had remained to help her with the plane and soon he was pulling on the propeller and she was going through the same "Contact" routine as earlier. The engine caught and I could see that Susan was busy adjusting and testing things. In a couple of minutes she released the brakes and we began to roll forward, out to the end of the cleared strip. We lined up with the cleared area and Susan ran the engine up so it sounded like it was ready to fly apart on its own. Then we were rolling down the straight stretch of sand and before I realized it we were climbing and leaving the ground behind. Then came that first gut twisting turn, but this time it wasn't quite so bad. I let my hands tighten around Susan's waist and she didn't seem to mind. I also noted that as we climbed I enjoyed the feel of her firm buttocks being pressed down into my lap.

We climbed for awhile before leveling out and Susan pointed to the altimeter. We were higher than this morning, about three thousand feet. When I actually thought about it, what difference did that make. If I fell from three hundred feet the result would be the same as from three thousand. Then Susan turned her head towards me and shouted, "Let's try a few figure eights."

The world tilted until I was sitting nearly ninety degrees from where I should, my right side now parallel with the blue ocean far below. We continued to fly in this attitude, turning several times, until I suddenly realized we were describing giant sideways figure eights in the sky. When we leveled from that series of turns, Susan made a somewhat circular sign with her hand. I wasn't sure what she was trying to say until she began to pull back on the control stick and the nose of our craft pointed towards the sky. I watched as the world turned around me. Suddenly I was sitting with my head pointed downwards to the distant sea and my feet towards the heavens. My mind told me I should have been falling, but I was still pressed tightly into the seat and Susan was pressed just as tightly into my lap.

We continued our curve and I quickly realized that we were completing a loop. As we returned to straight and level flight I was startled to realize that the experience had not frightened me at all. Rather the opposite. I had found the entire thing extremely exhilarating.

For the next twenty minutes Susan flung the craft through a variety of maneuvers, including loops, stalls, and barrel rolls. I was pleased to see that I no longer feared flying at all and also that my stomach seemed to get along well with these violent turns and swings. Susan also loved it. I could see that in her manner and movements and when she turned towards me, in the broad smile on her lovely face.

I was also becoming aware of another effect of the intense acrobatics. I was finding myself becoming sexually aroused. I'm sure that the incredible excitement of the new experience had a lot to do with it, but the fact that a lovely woman - a lovely woman with whom I had made love many times - was sitting on my lap, her bare legs occasionally brushing against mine, and the knowledge that she wore nothing beneath that leather jacket, probably had quite a bit of influence as well. I had been letting my hands clasp around her waist, not so much for support as for the warm feeling that action entailed. Now I let them slip under the edge of her jacket and clasp the bare skin beneath.

Susan responded by leaning back and rubbing her back against my chest, and moving her legs against my own. My hands rose and cupped her breasts, finding her large nipples rock hard. She was also aroused.

Susan twisted her head around to me and let her mouth approach mine. I leaned forward and we met in a hard French kiss, all the while hurtling through the sky, wind blowing across our faces and swirling around our bare legs. As we broke the kiss, Susan said something in a breathless fashion, but the wind noise was sufficient to overwhelm and obscure it completely. I responded with a "What?"

This time she raised her voice sufficiently so I could hear her, but for a second I still doubted I had heard correctly. "Pull up these sarongs, Alex. I want to feel you inside me."

Susan left no doubt as to what she had requested because she loosened her safety belt. Not enough to let her slip free, but enough to allow her to raise her hips a couple of inches, which she did while flying the plane with one hand and using the other to pull the cloth of her own sarong enough to bunch it above her waist. I kept my left hand on her breast, but used my right to bare my own thighs.

The wind at this altitude was chilly, but Susan's flesh felt burning hot on my own. And my rigid member must have felt equally hot to her as it pressed upwards along the crease between her legs. I started to try to wiggle to a position where I could penetrate her when she suddenly said, "Wait just a minute, Alex. I must do something."

I stopped my movement and seconds later Susan pulled back on the control stick and the craft began to once more climb towards the heavens. For minutes we rose sunwards and then Susan eased the stick forward and we leveled out again. I wasn't sure why she had wanted to climb. Perhaps to allow a little more margin of safety before we attempted our unusual coupling? Whatever the reason she seemed satisfied and reached a long finger forwards to tap the altimeter and said, "Now, Alex." I glanced at the instrument which read about five thousand, three hundred feet, and I must admit it wasn't until quite a bit later that the significance dawned on me.

Then I was much more interested in the warm and wiggling girl on my lap and when the head of my glans touched her opening I found her not only aroused, but practically flooding. A couple of twists and wiggles and I slid deeply inside her. Susan still had her safety belt slightly loosened so she could rise and fall a little. I, on the other hand, was tightly strapped to the seat and my freedom of movement was much more severely restricted.

Susan bounced up and down a couple of times and, while I, holding my left hand tightly around her breast, stroking and squeezing her nipple, began to let my right hand traverse the path from her right breast, down along her flat stomach, over the bunched material of her sarong, and on down to the hard nub, now exposed, between the lips of her sex.

Susan was obviously very aroused and stimulated by our activity, but her hands were steady on the controls of the airplane. How could she concentrate so well on two such disparate activities? But she did. The plane flew smoothly until suddenly I felt the nose rise and we began a slight climb. The movement pressed Susan down harder on my lap, further impaling her on my rod. Then the nose of the craft fell and we began a shallow dive, resulting in an upward force lifting Susan slightly. I realized she was doing this deliberately. We continued through a long series of alternate climbs and dives, forcing my member to move in and out, or rather forcing Susan to spear herself more deeply and then rise slightly.

We were both becoming more and more excited. In addition to the thrill of the unique location and the mechanical movement provided by Susan's piloting, the not inconsiderable vibration of the engine was producing sensations unlike any I had ever felt. I began to feel myself approaching that wonderful point of no return when suddenly one of the climbs steepened and we were again clawing upwards towards the heavens. I could sense Susan's rising excitement in the feel of her tight muscles around my tool, but her flying remained controlled and steady.

We were at a nearly vertical attitude and still driving upwards when I began to feel the first rhythmic contractions begin low in my swollen gonads. Then we were arching backwards, heads beginning to point towards the sea and the force of our cresting the loop pushed us upwards, me harder into the seat and Susan harder onto my swollen spike. I began to spurt in a series of hard movements, more intense than any I can remember. At my first ejaculation, Susan began her own contractions, her head thrown back against my shoulder, her mouth wide in a loud cry I could hear even over the engine's shrill scream.

We both climaxed and I, at least, was nearly beyond awareness of anything else, but when I began to regain my senses I noticed that we were smoothly sliding down the back side of the loop, Susan's touch on the controls as sure and smooth as ever.

We continued to fly level for a couple of minutes while we regained our breath and I began to shrink inside her. At last I felt myself pull free. Susan gave a slight sliver and once more twisted around to kiss me. After that kiss she began a slow descent and before much longer we were skimming along a hundred feet above the waves as I saw the plantation with is open airstrip coming up to meet us.

By the time we landed and taxied to the hanger, we had recovered and when we climbed out of the cockpit - what an apt name, now - no one watching would have guessed our activities of a short time previously.

Susan shut down the engine and two of the native men began to secure the plane. We climbed out and deposited our jackets and boots in the hanger before starting the walk back towards the main buildings.

Susan leaned over and kissed me. "Welcome to the club," she said.

I looked a little blank. "What club?" I responded with brilliant wit.

Susan laughed like water falling over a rocky stream. "The Mile High Club, Silly," she said.

I still looked blank and then suddenly the significance of the altimeter reading reached my sluggish brain. "There is such a thing?" I asked stupidly.

Again Susan laughed. "Yes, there really is. Even something as new as flying develops its own traditions very rapidly. I wouldn't even be surprised if one of the Wright brothers started it. But anyway it was well known when I learned to fly."

"I take it you were already a member," I replied, surprised to find that the idea that this hadn't been her first time didn't really bother me at all.

"Well, yes. Only the first time I did it, I had to climb from the front seat back into my instructor's lap." Then she stopped for a second. "Don't get the idea I have done this a lot, Alex. Actually, this was just my third time. But it was definitely the best, by a long shot."

I pulled her into my arms and kissed her. "I'm glad. Maybe sometime we'll have to try to improve even that." Her reply was another deep kiss.

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I put down the book and Judy rolled up on one elbow. "Paul, this is unbelievable! I really wish I had known your aunt and uncle. They sound like two of the most 'alive' people I have ever heard of."

"They always were, even at the age when I knew them. I can only guess what they were like when they were young, although the journal is giving me a pretty good idea."

"Oh? And just what idea is that?" Judy teased.

"I meant a pretty good idea of what they were like. But now that you mention it, I can probably think of a couple of good ideas myself." I leaned over and stretched Judy out on her back, pulling her wrists over her head with my right hand. I lowered my mouth to her nipples and felt them harden instantly as my lips and tongue began to explore. Judy is the hottest woman I have ever known. She would have fit right in on the plantation island.

We played for a little while and then I asked, "Want to go downstairs?"

"I'd love to, Paul. But I think I'm still a little too sore for much right now." She stopped for a second and then a new look came into her eyes. "Suppose we go downstairs and you can be my victim instead?"

I raised up, still holding her wrists to the floor above her head, and looked down at her lovely, naked form. As I have said, Judy is generally the victim in our games, but we do switch off some. "I could go for that," I answered. "After all, I've been doing all the work so far. Not only all that reading, but also torturing you. Maybe it's time you had to work a little."

Judy stuck her tongue out at me. "That's going to cost you, Lover. OK. Hit the bathroom while you still can.

We made out way back down to the dungeon and Judy wasted no time in getting cuffs snugly fastened around my wrists and ankles. "I think we'll start with something simple," she said. "After all, simple is often best."

She placed me facing a round, padded, horizontal rail we had supported about thirty inches above the floor. Spreading my legs, she attached my ankle cuffs to a bar, holding them nearly two feet apart. Then she bent me forwards across the rail and clipped my wrist cuffs to the ones on my ankles. This, of course, left my ass clearly displayed and available.

Judy ran her hands over my bare flanks and down the sides of my thighs. She continued to play with me in this fashion for several minutes until my rod was sticking our in rigid excitement and my breath was beginning to come in quick gasps. She finished her attentions by running her hands up the insides of my spread legs and dragging one finger up my crack and across the sensitive skin of my exposed anus.

Her hot hands left my quivering body and I strained to try to see what she was doing. To do this I had to look back between my own spread legs and I saw an inverted picture of her long legs and tight ass as she walked over to a cabinet against the wall. I couldn't see what she retrieved from the cabinet, but the view of her retreating backside, even upside down, was worth the contortions, . A minute later I discovered what she had picked up as the flat surface of a smooth wood paddle slammed into my rear, eliciting a sharp yelp.

Judy toyed with me for nearly two minutes while delivering only a half dozen swats. These stung but I quickly realized they were not meant to cause a lot of anguish, but rather merely to warm me for more severe treatment to come. After the sixth stroke, Judy put down the paddle and picked up another object. She moved around in front of me and showed it to me. As I strained to arch my head far enough back to view her possession, I realized I was in for a rather painful session. Judy was holding what we call our "Swiss cheese paddle". This is a frat type paddle, three inches by eighteen, smoothed and varnished hardwood, a half inch or so thick. But unlike the school paddles available in the bookstore as decorations, this one had its surface covered with half inch holes. I knew from experience that this device would hurt like hell as the holes ventilated the paddle and prevented the cushion of air which forms with a smooth paddle. Additionally, each hole would provide its circular edge as a contact point. Yes, this would definitely hurt more than the other paddle. My cock stuck out even more in anticipation.

I wasn't disappointed. Judy struck the first stroke and I couldn't hold back a sharp cry. Neither could I hold back on the next. Or on any of the dozen or so which followed. It may seem strange to the uninitiated that a painful spanking can stimulate one sexually. But it is a truth many have discovered. There is a close relationship between sexual stimulation and pain, at least as long as the pain is restrained short of the point where it begins to dominate everything else. We were always careful not to pass this point, and both Judy and I had found that this form of "stimulation" did a lot to increase the intensity of our orgasms when they finally came. Now I could feel myself almost more aroused than I could stand, desperately waiting the release I needed so badly. I could tell that Judy was also getting more excited as her breathing began to come in shorter and more shallow gasps. Once as I looked back between my legs, I saw her left hand on her own crotch, furiously rubbing even as she swung the stinging paddle towards my defenseless bottom.

Suddenly the spanking stopped and I could clearly hear Judy's cry as she started her own climax. But she left me hanging, unable to come. I strained against my bonds, but to no avail, as she cried out several times, each time with more intensity, and then as she calmed and her breathing began to slow slightly.

To say I was frustrated would be an incredible understatement. I begged Judy for some relief, but she only answered, "Not yet, Lover. You have a long way to go yet." I groaned and resigned myself to a long, tortuous session.

In a couple of minutes Judy began to release my wrists and ankles, but as soon as I had stretched, she led me over to where there were two chains hanging from the joists above my head. Soon my arms were spread widely above my head, anchored to the chains, and Judy was pulling my ankles far apart and attaching them to rings in the floor. I was left stretched in a tight X shape between ceiling and floor, my rock hard cock still pointing straight out and my balls aching to explode.

Judy helped them in that direction my using her long fingers to just slightly brush against their undersides and across the super sensitive skin between them and my anus. Then she moved away behind me and soon returned with something I couldn't see. I heard the sounds of her adjusting something and then I felt her finger, cool and slick with lubricant, press against the stretched opening of my anus. As her tapering digit slipped inside I groaned again. Judy twisted around and worked the finger in and out, spreading the slick substance all around. I now knew I was going to be penetrated, but not with what.

The finger withdrew and in seconds the slick, plastic tip of a long, tapered dildo touched my rear opening. The dildo seemed to be attached to something and I guessed it was mounted on one of the adjustable stands, not unlike chemistry ring stands, which we have in the playroom. It seemed to go deeper than I thought possible and soon I was straining up on my toes for relief.

Judy left me like that and moved around in front of me. She slid her hands across my chest, pinching and rubbing at my nipples as she let her tongue tease and torment my lips and neck. Occasionally she would let a hand drop and stroke my tormented member, but never enough to bring relief.

She pressed her bare breasts against my chest for a few seconds and I could feel her nipples, rock hard, seem to drag burning lines across my skin. Then I suddenly felt a sharp pain at my right nipple as she let a small clamp snap closed over the hard nub. This clamp was not smooth, but rather serrated, like the small electrical clips I frequently saw around the Electrical Engineering labs. The first was followed by a second clamp on my left nipple. She added two small lead weights, further tightening the hold of the clamps and bringing additional pain to my unbelievably aroused body.