The Resort Pt. 08

Day Eight. Oasis

I awoke this morning still stiff and sore. Sleeping in was an attractive option, but I had two days of journal entries to complete. I dragged myself out of bed, quiet as the proverbial mouse so as not to rouse the others, and took up my usual spot on the balcony.

With at least a couple of hours of uninterrupted peace and quiet, I had almost finished the rough draft as, for the last time from this place, I watched the renascent daylight creep across the rooftops of the town below. I had a further sixty minutes or so to review and edit my literary tour de force, and was just winding up when I heard the nearest and dearest moving around inside. They were already dressed, which meant they had been up and about for some time. So I must commend my considerate cousin for not disturbing me. (I expected no less from Rachel and Richard.) For sure the peace and quiet never last, but I take what I can get. But now Daniel was being his normal self, grouchily complaining of lack of sleep despite having had hours more than me. On the whole, I'd had the harder time of it in the wilderness, so I thought his attitude was rather wimpy.

"Don't harass the poor lad," Rachel chided.

"All I said was 'Man up, wimp'," I protested.

"Go get dressed," she side-tracked. "You can't go downtown like that." (This being our last morning at the Andromeda, we were having breakfast in the style in which we are unlikely to become accustomed.)

"Too daring?" I said, looking down at my nightie and then pointedly across at her tiny Seafolly bandeau bikini. She chose to not respond, so I went off and changed into my Azzura mini-hipster briefs, Roxy crisscross halter top and Balenciaga slingback sandals. I topped it off with my burgundy choker.

As I returned, Richard was fastening Rachel's collar. He was playfully tugging at her hair, pretending that it kept getting stuck in the miniature lock.

"Stop fooling about," she grumbled, but she couldn't do much about it because her wrists were already cuffed behind her back.

"Your turn," Daniel said, but he walked past me and to the cabinet in the corner. "Lady's choice. What's it to be?"

I told him what I wanted and waited in the living room, watching my aunt and uncle. He had secured her arms behind her in the "box" position. This is normally one of the more comfortable ways, but he had attached her cuffs to the rear of her collar with a leather strap, and she had to lift her hands high up her back to relieve the pressure on her neck. There was no danger of choking because of the way the collar is shaped, but the result was nevertheless quite a strain on her arms and shoulders. Her eyes were closed, she was biting her lower lip and breathing heavily. He kissed her, and as he drew away, he pushed into her mouth the shiny dark orb of her ball gag. He tenderly brushed a few errant strands of hair away from her eyes as he tied the black satin blindfold in place. He took one of the leashes and lightly grazed the clasp over her bare shoulders and throat before fastening it to the ring on the front of her collar. She shivered and moaned softly through her gag as he drew the cable slowly, lovingly down her neck, over her breasts, across her belly and between her legs. In connecting it to her wrists behind her back, to make it reach he placed a hand on her head and gently pushed. As she bent her body forward, he tightened the strap to keep her in her forced bow. She was quivering slightly at the knees and her fingers drummed against her elbows to diffuse the tension building within her. Just seeing them, I began to feel all tingly and goosebumpy.

Distracted, I forgot about Daniel until his hands came around from behind me and seized my elbows. He pulled my arms back with such force that I gasped. My wrists were somewhat chafed and my muscles still aching from the treatment of the last two days.

"Be more careful," I growled.

"Stop whining," he snarled back. "Don't be such a girl."

"I am a girl!"

"Well, take it like a man."

"That doesn't make... Ugh! Now you're doing it deliberately!"

I had been pretty certain that his "lady's choice" offer was humbug, that Daniel would ignore whatever preference I'd expressed; and I was not to be disabused. But I have to admit that it's more fun when you don't know what's coming... although my callous cousin's curveballs are rarely congenial. (I must cure myself of this alliteration affliction... Oops.) I had asked for the fleecy cuffs and was not at all shocked when he clamped my right wrist over my left and began binding them with the nylon cord. He looped more of it around my shoulders to fashion a harness, to the back of which he attached my wrist bindings. I think he was about to funnel the free end between my legs, but he decided that a crotch-rope was just a little too icky, even for him, to be putting on his cousin. So instead he ran it up over my left shoulder, between and around my boobs, back over my right shoulder and again around my wrists. And as if this wasn't stringent enough, he looped the last of the rope around my waist to make my arms completely immobile. He wasn't gentle.

"What's the big deal?" he demanded, as he wrapped more cord about my biceps and hauled until I grunted in a very unladylike fashion.

Richard, who had finished preparing Rachel, was watching our progress. "How about both of you calm down?" he finally interrupted. "Daniel, don't hurt her. Sarah, do you want to be tied or not?"

"Of course I do. It's just..." There really not much more to say, even if I could have. Daniel pushed the ball-plug between my lips and teeth. For my blindfold, he went with the sash rather than the mask.

As we left the suite, I could hear Rachel's shuffling feet and panting, rasping breath. She was having a hard time of it, so I knew she was loving every bit of it.

From what I could take in of going on around me, there were quite a few people moving about in the foyer. In the week that we've been here, business in the Resort has increased significantly. The peak tourist season is in its last hurrah stage. And in the same time I have learned how to pick out, solely from the different types of sounds they make, the state of the women around me -- those who are blindfolded, those who are gagged, those who are hobbled, even (I believe) what they're wearing and what they're bound with. When deprived of your sight, you really do become more receptive to clues and cues, more sensitive to your environment.

Yet what I love about bondage is that the novelty doesn't fade. The challenge of negotiating my way down the hillside and into the Village with only my sharpened senses to guide me and Daniel's dubious support to keep me out of trouble still felt fresh.

We had a nice breakfast at the sidewalk cafeteria where we'd eaten lunch on our first day. With the enhanced clarity of the blindfold, my senses were almost overwhelmed by the aromas wafting off Richard's and Daniel's feast of bacon, eggs and thickly buttered toast -- basically one huge cholesterol molecule. Rachel and I had muesli, croissants and juice. Though remaining sightless, we had been unshackled and untied. Daniel had proposed that we remain gagged, and for a brief moment I thought he was being serious. But Rachel and I were permitted to remove our blindfolds in order to get up and go to the bathroom.

During my brief moments of exposure to the light of day I saw large numbers of people going by. The pageant of bound women in various states of dress and undress was by now familiar but no less enchanting. And among those passing by were Jessica and James. She was still clad in just her g-string. Her arms were lashed very tightly behind her back to push out her bare chest, onto which saliva was dripping from her bit-gag. She wore a heavy collar and was being led on a leash of heavy chain. She was showing the typical signs of arousal; and though her eyes were humbly downcast they flickered in my direction. I smiled, but I don't know if she acknowledged it. With a bit clamped between your jaws, your face is stuck in a permanent grimace.

I wonder if the dynamics of their relationship will change when they get back home. I doubt it. For them what happens on Aranea Island will stay on Aranea Island.

After breakfast, since we were not scheduled to move into the Oasis for a few hours we decided to finally spend some more time on the beach. Although it is our eighth day here, this was only my second opportunity. So it was pleasant to feel the golden grit between my toes and the gentle waves washing over my body. Richard had picked a spot at the eastern end of the bay, sheltered by the headland and Frigate Island, so the surf was not very high; but it was also the less crowded part. I was glad we were well away from the area most susceptible to pirate raids. I wasn't in the mood for being carried off as buccaneer booty. In fact, towards noon we did see and hear a commotion at the far end of the strand.

Safety regulations forbid any sort of beach bondage, which makes good sense. Still, without even my choker I felt a little exposed. It may be that I am becoming assimilated into the local culture to the extent that I feel almost naked without my accessories; but it may also be that I'm turning into a snob. The collar and choker are our badges of residency, what separates us from the garden-variety tourists. Good grief, did I just write that? We've only just arrived here, hardly settled in, and I'm already looking down my nose at the commoners!

Not long afterwards a thick layer of clouds had built up; but far from ruining our morning it kept the sand from getting too hot and us from getting sunburnt. At lunchtime we found a half-empty bistro, a rarity at that time of day, and once nourished we returned for the last time to the Hotel Andromeda.

Back in our suite, Daniel was being his usual obnoxious. I had already packed my bags except for what I'd be needing for the afternoon, while he had kept putting it off until Richard barked at him to "Get a move on!"

"Sarah, help me," Daniel called from his bedroom. I came in from the balcony.

"Please," I said.

"You don't have to ask permission. Just come and help me."

I didn't bother to debate. And since my peace had already been broken, I went into his bedroom.

"These first," he said, holding up a gag and blindfold.

"Do you want me to help you or not?"

"I don't make the rules."

"Actually, that's exactly what you're doing."

"Well then, rules are rules."

This was one more battle I was not going to win without some cost. So with a shrug and a sigh, I allowed him to blindfold me. But when the gag touched my lips I brushed it away.

We began to pack his stuff. I don't know why he needed my assistance; but in any case Daniel succeeded it making it a travail. That's one of his few genuine talents.

"Leave me out a pair of socks," he instructed.

"Will these ones do?" I asked.

"No, dummy, they're different colours."

"When I can't see, how am I supposed to know?"

"I thought you knew everything."

I could hardly argue with that.

I think I did a good job of folding and packing without the use of my eyes. And when we'd finished, I flung the blindfold onto the bed and went to my own room to change, into my denim skirt and calypso blouse. While I was doing so, Kate must have phoned, because when I came out the menfolk had taken our luggage down to the ground floor. Once they'd returned, we did a final check to make sure we'd left nothing behind, left no mess, no appliances on, no windows open. And as we assembled for the last time in the living room, Rachel turned away and placed her hands behind her back. She was wearing her little powder blue sundress which has a drawstring belt. Richard untied it, slid it from around her waist and bound her wrists with it.

"Nice touch," I thought.

Daniel came up behind me and clamped his hands on my shoulders. In pure reflex I started to pull away from him. So even though I quickly stopped resisting, he grabbed my arms and forced me into a kneeling position, by the simple expedient of ramming his knees into the back of mine. He bound my elbows first, behind me. This is best because it makes it easier to bind your wrists nice and tight. But because I was kneeling, to tie my hands he lifted my arms until they were slanted upwards behind me, forcing me to bend forward until my chin almost touched the carpet.

I must have made a loud noise.

"Be careful," Richard called out; but I wasn't distressed at all, just surprised.

"Nice knickers," my charming cousin announced.

"Daniel..." our aunt and uncle shouted as one.

"Geez, you can't even pay someone a compliment..."

I didn't respond. And as the shadow of the blindfold fell across my eyes, I took one last look at the place where we had spent such a marvellous week. And to think that the adventure is only just beginning...

Daniel helped me to my feet. "Do we gag them?" he asked.

"That's up to the girls."

We didn't object, and Daniel had already picked out the ring gag. Have I said how much I hate this thing? But it was too late to protest. In fact, I hadn't suspected which type was going in until I was instructed to open really wide and felt the ring pressing behind my top row of teeth.

The metal hoop is wrapped in soft rubber or latex, so it doesn't injure the roof of your mouth, your tongue or your teeth. When you try to close your jaws it bends very slightly, so it's more flexible than many gags. (It has to be to permit a safe and secure insertion.) Also, it's the type that best allows you to breathe. Nevertheless, my overall assessment was once more confirmed. It's very uncomfortable because even with the elasticity it holds your mouth open wide so rigidly that you feel like you're getting lockjaw. You can make all sorts of noises, but none of them elegant or coherent. And it causes you to drool uncontrollably unless you can exercise inhuman self-control. I can't, so it wasn't long before the dribble oozed its way out through the ring and from the corners of my mouth, trickled down my jaw and dripped onto my chest and slithered under my blouse between my boobs and down my tummy. Daniel was amused.

Richard asked, "Are you okay, honey?" I just nodded and emitted a gargled "Yeargh..." (which is gag-speak for "Yes") as Daniel shoved me towards the door. Pride would not permit any other response, of course. We took the elevator to the lobby where Kate was waiting, to drive us to our new accommodations. As we trundled down the hill, through town and on towards the Oasis, I turned my head away from our direction of travel, to avoid catching a fly or bug in my ring-gagged gaping maw.

We stopped in front of one of the buildings and went up to the second floor, where Rachel and Richard's apartment is located. It's compact, meaning not very big but efficiently designed to feel more capacious than it is in reality. In other words, while the place is by no means luxurious, it's very comfortable. Indeed, the Resort is egalitarian when it comes to staff quarters. As a civil engineer and an "organizational ergonomics" manager (it's complicated), my uncle and aunt are in the top tier of the workforce, but they don't receive any special treatment. So I'm proud of the fact that my family has created such a congenial environment for all employees, and that we are not to be accorded exclusive privileges.

I took a peek into the bedroom. It looks normal, except upon close inspection. For screwed into the walls at various places and heights are large eye-bolts. The head- and footboard of the double bed consist of metal frames, and the bars have been both polished to a high sheen and slightly eroded by long-term buffing and abrasion. It does not take much imagination to decipher these clues. In fact, a length of light gauge silver chain still dangled from one of the eye-bolts. I asked Kate if these are customary fittings and she just smiled.

Daniel and I are staying overnight in a nearby room, after which he will be going home and I move into the Rangers' quarters. There's just the one bedroom, but at least the berths are single and separate. My cousin dashed in to commandeer the one by the window, and I was not in the mood to argue. But I must have looked like I was about to say something, because he suddenly barked:

"Remember the rule! Whenever we're in here together you must wear a blindfold."

"In the bedroom?"

He deliberated for a second or two. "The whole place."

"Isn't that just a bit..."

"No discussion. I'm the man of the house."

"It's an apartment."

"Then I'm the man of the apartment."

I was about to say, "I don't think the word 'man' means what you think it does," but thought better of it. That was a skirmish I couldn't win. Instead, I said that the blindfolding was a good idea, since the less I see of him the better. I knew this would come back to haunt me.

"Any more rules?"

"And gagged."

"Now?" I asked.

"This time you're excused," he replied. My confused cousin had immediately nullified his own rule. But we devised some rudimentary regulations for sharing the space -- well, he devised and I nodded my agreement. It was only for one day, and if this is what his masculine gravitas demanded, then cést la vie!

It was still early afternoon, so I made a phone call to Matthew's suite in the Regatta Hotel. His sister answered and said Daniel and I could come round. Rachel and Richard had business to attend to that would keep them busy for a couple of hours, so they asked us to be back by dinnertime. "And you can invite your friends if you want. Or..." -- and I'm sure this was a hint -- "let us know if you make other plans."

Meanwhile Kate, who is very perceptive, had pegged me as a show-off. She said it was okay for me to wear one of my uniforms. I chose the orchid string bikini and cerise pink pāreu, plus my collar, bracelets and anklets. I let Daniel cuff my wrists in front and attach them to the ring on my collar. Kate advised that I should always have my own gag with me, and of course prescient Daniel said "Well, yeah," and held up my ball-plug gag and red sash blindfold, ready to go.

Just before we left, Rachel took me aside.

"Remember, Sarah, just because a man puts you on a leash, that doesn't mean he owns you."

"Yes, Auntie dear."

"I mean it, Sarah."

"Sorry. I get it."

"That's okay, honey. It also doesn't mean you can't have a nice time."

I felt bad making fun of Rachel's advice. But let's face it, where else in the world would you hear it expressed that way? Aranea Island is a magical place.

By now I am so used to moving about in my restraints that after Daniel had taken me downstairs and out of the building, I reckon I could have found my own way to the Regatta. In fact, I've seen more than a few women making their way around the Village unaccompanied while blindfolded. Indeed, there appears to be a sort of etiquette. People give them plenty of leeway but no one interferes to lend a hand unless they get into difficulties. I will try it myself some time... but not just yet.

We met Matthew, Beth and Anika in the lobby of their hotel. Daniel said, "She's yours," and Matthew detached my wrists from my collar and uncuffed them, but only to shackle them behind my back. The two girls were not yet bound, but Daniel saw to that. He instructed them to stand facing each other, so close that they touched. I was still blindfolded but could follow his moves from his words and Matthew's comments. The girls said nothing. He tied Beth's arms in a reverse prayer position -- where your hands are bound behind you between your shoulders, with the palms together. It's not the easiest of bondage positions to endure, yet Beth seemed to cope without difficulty. (She appears to be quite experienced.) Anika was put into a somewhat more forgiving box tie -- arms folded behind her back. They already had ball-gags hanging at their throats, so Daniel inserted them. He linked them with a Y-shaped leash which enabled him to guide them once they were blindfolded.