Holiday Highlights

The evening after we returned from the 'plantation' island, I was in my cell chatting with the other slaves in nearby cells. We'd been given our dinner, and the slaves who were to be 'prizes' in the day's raffle had been selected and taken away, so we had nothing to do but wait for lights out. Unless, of course, some owners were to claim some of us for the evening or night -- and they usually did....

The first call of "Slaves, front up!" came, and we all obeyed. Then I heard, at the entrance to the quarters, a voice I recognized: it was Master Paul, saying, "... but I'm giving my slave-girl the choice." Wondering exactly what he meant by this, I turned my head -- which we weren't supposed to do! -- just enough to see that he had indeed brought Helen with him, and that she was inspecting each of the male slaves, just like the owners did when they were choosing one to claim!

I had an almost irresistible urge to cry out and 'volunteer', but I forced myself to suppress it -- I was quite sure, without being told, that this would be quite against the rules and would probably get me a severe penalty. So I fixed my gaze straight ahead again and waited, my heart pounding in hope that she wouldn't make a choice before reaching me. Slowly she came closer, and soon I could see her from the corner of my eye, clearly enjoying her temporary role as an owner!

When she did at last reach me, she started in surprise and said, "I thought you...", but stopped herself, turned to Master Paul and said, "I want this one, Master."

Master Paul smiled indulgently and replied, "Are you sure? You haven't even inspected him properly."

Helen opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again, grinned and turned back to me. With unashamed glee, she made full use of the opportunity provided by my pose: my naked body pressed against the bars, with my legs and arms spread wide to give the maximum availablilty for 'inspections' like these. Very thoroughly, she fondled my cock and balls protruding between the cell's bars -- and already quite hard just from the sight of her! -- ran her hands around to my buttocks, up my sides and over my belly and chest, and rolled and pinched my nipples with her fingers. She even made me open my mouth for her to look at my teeth and tongue, coming close enough that the nipples on her lovely full tits brushed lightly against my chest, which inevitably caused my cock to grow even harder!

Finally she turned back to Master Paul and said firmly, "Yes, Master, I'm sure now. This is the one I want."

"OK," he replied, then turned to the officer accompanying them. "I'd like this slave, please, gagged, his wrists tied tightly palm-to-palm behind him, and with a rope leash on his cock."

Two minutes later I walked out behind them, Helen holding the other end of the leash attached to my cock. Not a word was said, but Helen looked at me several times with a mixture of delight and a strange excitement that I couldn't identify. We went into a part of the ship that I'd never seen -- I guessed it was a section of the crew's or officers' accommodation -- and entered a room that was very obviously intended for bondage.

Closing the door behind us, Master Paul sat down in a chair across the room and said to Helen, "Tie his leash to that hook beside the door, then come stand beside me." Helen obeyed, and he ran his hands casually over her body as he began to talk to her, quietly yet loudly enough for me to hear... but not to understand at all!

"I'm not sure," he was saying, "that you made the right choice of slave for this exercise. I know how you feel about him, and I wonder if you can treat him in the way the officers would like to see. I don't want to force you to change your mind, because your performance here isn't a matter of passing or failing: but it will partly decide what sort of crew position you are offered and how much choice you might have.

"Remember, the exercise here is bondage and discipline, not lovemaking between slaves. You know by now that officers and passengers sometimes do enjoy watching a little (shall we say?) cruelty from one slave to another: don't you think you might disappoint them a little with the slave you've chosen? Think about it for a minute, there's just enough time to get another slave, with whom you might be less involved emotionally, before you need to start."

Helen was silent for about thirty seconds, glancing at me once or twice with a strange speculative look. (I was in no position to encourage or discourage her -- not only because of my gag, but also I didn't understand enough to know what I would have wanted anyway!) Then she gave Master Paul one of her loveliest smiles and said, "Thank you for your concern, Master, and for reminding me what I'm here for, but I'll stick with my choice, please."

"OK, it's your show!" grinned Master Paul, and gave her an encouraging pat on the bottom. "Now go look in the cupboards, to see where things are, so that you can find them quickly when you need them."

Helen obeyed, opening each cupboard in the room and carefully inspecting their contents. Some of them I could also see into: they contained a huge variety of bondage and discipline gear, some of which I didn't even recognize. For her part, Helen occasionally made exclamations of surprise and excited interest, looking more closely at some articles to figure out how they were to be used or even asking Master Paul for his advice.

After about fifteen minutes, a voice suddenly came through a hidden speaker: "Master Paul, is your slave ready for today's exercise?" Master Paul looked questioningly at Helen, who nodded, and he replied, "Yes, she's ready." OK," was the response, "she may begin as soon as the chime sounds."

Helen came across to me, untied the leash and held it, waiting. A soft chime sounded, and she led me to the centre of the room, then circled around me so that I had to turn slowly. She was behaving exactly as if performing to an audience, but there was no-one else there: the room had no windows, but then I realized that each wall, and the ceiling, had at least one mirror that could have been transparent from the other side!

I still didn't know exactly what was going on, or what its purpose was, but from Master Paul's conversation it seemed that the idea was for Helen to apply some bondage and discipline to me . Which turned out to be the case: for the next three hours or so, I had the unusual experience of being bound and whipped in various ways by another slave , a slave as naked as I was but free to do with me as she wanted, just like the Masters and Mistresses who usually did these things to us!

Not only was it unusual, but I found it very exciting as well... and Helen's obvious nervousness and excitement made it even more so. Clearly, it had something to do with the place she would have as a crew slave, which explained her nervousness, because she naturally wanted to 'do well' -- whatever that meant in this context! Her excitement, on the other hand, I couldn't quite explain, but it was certainly infectious!

As a slave, much more used to being on the submissive side, she betrayed a fair degree of inexperience of the dominant side: some of the bondage was really too loose, especially at first when she was probably tending towards being kind to a fellow-slave. Gradually, however, her nervousness vanished as she entered into the spirit of being a temporary -- if naked -- 'Mistress' with her own slave to treat as she wished, and she obviously started to really enjoy what she was doing to me, for its own sake!

Most of the bondage she inflicted on me was relatively 'standard', the kind of positions our owners commonly used on us slaves. But she did try some variations, perhaps inventions of her own, and there was one I remember most vividly (it featured in the 'experiments' that I was used for by an officer, which I've already related but which in fact happened later)....

Helen made me lie on a low bench, and tied my wrists and ankles to four of the many anchor rings that were conveniently hidden in the floor. My arms and legs weren't stretched at all tightly, which at first I attributed to her inexperience, but later discovered was quite deliberate! Next, she put a spring-loaded clamp on each of my nipples and several on my cock, and used cords to hooks in the ceiling to put just a little strain on them all. Finally, she did the same with two more cords, each tied firmly around one of my balls.

The strain on these cords gave me a little discomfort, but not much... until her full intentions were revealed! Looking down at me from above my head, she smiled sweetly and said, "Now, slave, I want you to use your arms and legs to lift yourself up a little from the bench." I obeyed, expecting her now to take up any slack in the cords from my nipples and cock and balls: instead, she surprised me by bending down and sliding the bench from under me!

"I wonder how long you can hold yourself up and avoid pulling the clamps off," she said in the sort of amused tone that a Mistress might have used in this situation. "I hope it's long enough for me to give your nice flat belly a little whipping!" She said the latter as her hands stroked my belly, its muscles taut with the tension of holding myself in this strained and very uncomfortable arch.

Naturally, my head had fallen back when the bench was removed, and I was unable to see her face, and whether she really meant it. She did, as I learned when the first blow -- equally invisible to me -- landed across my belly! It felt like she was using a short and fairly light whip, not hard enough to be really painful but enough to sting sharply: but even this sting was quickly overshadowed by the ache in my arms and legs as I strained to maintain my unnatural position.

It wasn't any real fear of the short sharp pain I knew I would feel when the clamps pulled off, that prompted me to hold my pose: it was rather a very strong desire to please Helen by staying up as long as I could! I didn't know whether she planned to keep whipping my belly until I collapsed -- not that it mattered very much, because I also knew I couldn't last long at all -- but I resolved to stay as long as possible.

The cords attached to my nipples were a little tighter than the others, and they pulled off when I jerked involuntarily at a slightly harder whip stroke than usual. Now Helen paused in her whipping and said, her voice sounding genuinely solicitous, "D'you want to rest on your shoulders, slave? I don't mind if you do!"

Aware that my arms were almost ready to give way, I gratefully followed her suggestion... and found that this actually allowed me to hold my hips higher, thus relaxing the strain on the clamps pinching my cock. With my head now on the floor, it also allowed me to see my lovely tormentor, and actually to watch the whip land across my belly as she resumed her whipping.

I was fascinated by the sight of her gorgeous naked figure -- her legs slightly apart for stability, so that I could see right into her pussy, and bending a little to reach me with her whip, so that her full breasts hung down and swayed sensually with every blow. This, added to my submissive nature's reaction to my utter helplessness and the way I was actually holding my belly up as if begging for it to be whipped, caused my cock to swell in arousal. The clamps, which had been put on when it was partly limp, began to lose their grip as its loose flesh tightened, and at last slipped off completely -- a strange and by no means pleasant sensation!

My cock flopped heavily down onto my belly, and I expected that Helen would now stop: but her arm came down again, and I flinched in fear that she might strike my cock itself. Instead, she changed her aim to my chest and, almost as if she hadn't noticed the clamps come off my cock, continued to ply her whip: one or two of the strokes even landed directly on my nipples, still very tender from the clamps!

Now, with my cock out of my line of sight, I could see my balls stretched upwards, and the cords tied around my scrotum under them: they wouldn't slip off like the clamps had, which naturally inspired me to greater efforts to hold my hips up, despite the strain my legs were feeling by now! I prayed that I could hold out long enough... and my prayer was answered, because Helen applied only a few more strokes to my chest, then put down the whip and loosened those cords. With not a little relief, I collapsed to the floor.

This was by far the best example of the way Helen kept faithfully to her script' of bondage and discipline, rather than any 'lovemaking'. Once or twice, however, she couldn't resist -- when my head happened to be in an appropriate position! -- pressing her pussy to my mouth and briefly exciting herself. I wondered how her 'audience' might view these moments!

Eventually, the chime sounded again, and the disembodied voice issued from the speaker: "Thank you, Master Paul, your slave's exercise is over. The committee will make its assessment, when all its members have seen her performance." ("What?" I thought. "Do I have to go through all this again for another audience, or even more?" Fortunately, this wasn't necessary, as Helen explained to me a little later.)

Master Paul was clearly quite pleased with his slave's 'performance', because he was kind enough to allow Helen and me to spend the night together in a private room. He was even generous enough to allow us a certain degree of freedom: our hands were unfettered, and the gag was removed from my mouth, but our ankles were chained, Helen's to one wall and mine to the wall opposite. There was something familiar about this arrangement, but it was Helen who identified what that was, after Master Paul left us alone.

"This is just like that night in the prison cell on the island!" she said. Sure enough, we found that the length of the ankle chains was such that we could reach each other with our hands and even with our mouths, but were just a few tantalizing inches short of my cock reaching her pussy! But we made good use of the freedom we did have, and this time it took no time at all before we were lying in a 'sixty-nine', her mouth full with my cock and my tongue lapping at her pussy and clit. Our climaxes seemed to come all to quickly, and then we settled down in the afterglow of our pleasure to chat contentedly.

We reminisced about that night in the cell on our first cruise: I remarked how glad I was that my cock wasn't as sore as it had been then, and Helen agreed with me fervently, referring of course to her pussy. A little later, I asked her what tonight's 'exercise' had all been about.

"It was part of my assessment," she said, "for my position as a crew slave. You see, the services of crew slaves are part of what the passengers pay for, we have to cater for as many tastes as possible, and some passengers enjoy having slaves punish other slaves. The committee of officers, who'll decide where I best fit in as a crew member, have been giving me exercises in a whole variety of different slave activities: tonight they wanted to determine whether I have any skill or potential in this particular area.

"I know my skill wasn't much," she grinned disarmingly, "but I'm sure I could learn. As for my potential... well, what do you think?"

"I'm not sure," I replied frankly. "Some things you did were unusual and exciting, but I think I'm biased: I'd much prefer to have you as a fellow-slave, sharing the bondage and discipline with me. On the other hand, you sure seemed to be excited and enjoying it most of the time: d'you think you could come to like it more than the submissive side?"

"Well, actually," she said, blushing prettily, "I think that had more to with how I feel about you ! Having shared a variety of experiences (including a good deal of bondage and discipline!) with you, and grown rather fond of you -- to put it mildly! -- I suddenly found it an incredible turn-on to have you all to myself, helpless and completely in my power. In a funny way, because I was expected to tie you up and hurt you a bit -- and not make love to you -- actually made me want to do it, and I enjoyed it a lot!

"But at the same time," she mused almost wonderingly, "it also seemed to make me care for you more deeply, and to make the sex we just had even more pleasurable. Can you understand that?" I wasn't quite sure that I could, but I'd be willing to go through twice what she'd done to me for half the pleasure of the sex we'd just enjoyed! My reply was to say nothing, only to pull her lovely body against mine and bury my face again between her thighs.

She moved as if to reciprocate, but I asked her not to, and concentrated on thanking her in the best way I knew how, for the nice things she'd just said. After only a mild protest, she abandoned herself to enjoying the sensations my eager lips and teeth and tongue, not to mention my hands, were giving her, and was soon writhing and moaning in another orgasm. Nor did I let up then, and she had two more, each apparently more intense than the last, before I eventually allowed her to 'come to earth' and rest, weak but content, in my arms.

Some time later, I asked, "What was that about other people having to see your performance tonight? Does it mean you have to repeat it, exactly as you did it the first time?"

"No, of course not," she replied with a smile. "My Master told me that they have pretty elaborate videotaping facilities: I'm sure our evening's fun is on tape, in full colour and probably from several angles, and the officers who weren't watching in person will view it when they're off-duty."

That image, of a videotape of my naked body being contorted and bound and whipped by an equally naked Helen, was suddenly very exciting, and my cock started to swell in response. "I wonder," I mused, "whether they'll let us see that video!"

"I doubt it," was Helen' comment. "I've learned a lot about the attitudes of the officers, while being tested as a possible crew slave, and one thing is pretty clear: slaves are for the service and entertainment and pleasure of owners, and any fun we get out of it is just a by-product of providing what we're really here for. Anyway," she smiled coyly into my eyes, "who needs to see see videos of ourselves, when we can see each other naked most of the time, and sometimes we're even allowed to touch each other!"

Her hand reached down to my cock to demonstrate, and she chuckled to find it already almost fully hard. "Now it's my turn!" she murmured, and proceeded to prove that the real touch of hands and lips and teeth and tongue are far better that a mere video! Taking my cue, I lay back and accepted her attentions: with great skill, she kept me at a fever pitch of erotic arousal for what seemed like hours before an enormous orgasm swept through me at last. Her talented mouth seemed to draw from me, along with my semen, all my strength, leaving me drained -- of everything but happiness.

We got little sleep that night (it was the night after I'd served the boss-lady at the plantation, and I'd expected to be very sleepy indeed): we talked a lot, telling each other what had been happening to us when we were apart, and we caressed and cuddled each other constantly. Helen just wouldn't leave me alone, but I didn't mind one bit! To be honest, I gave as good as I got, revelling in this all-too-rare opportunity to run my hands and lips over "my darling Helen" (as I thought of her), touching every part of her glorious sexy body, and to kiss her sweet soft lips and thrust my tongue deep into her warm mouth.

The next time I and my Mistress had much to do with Master Paul and Helen, was on the day of the "slaves' boat race". She mentioned it that morning while I was helping her dress, saying that she'd put my name down as a paddler and hers as an 'officer' and that, after breakfast, we would go and "see if we're on one of the teams."

Remembering the fun we'd had that day on our previous cruise, I was barely able to control my anticipation during breakfast. When we finally looked at the notice-board at the 'entertainment centre', we saw my name as a paddler on one of the boats, but my Mistress' as just an onlooker, since fewer 'officers' were needed than paddlers. We noticed, too, that Master Paul and Helen had been named on the other boat -- and that Brenda and Dan, as two of the few first-timers', were to be the 'figurehead' and 'rudder' respectively on the opposing boats.

Muttering good-naturedly about "lucky slaves who get to have all the fun!", my Mistress delivered me to the nominated lifeboat station, leaving me in the hands of the officer there while she went to take her place on one of the motor launches. Soon I and the other paddlers were shackled in our places, kneeling astride the narrow bar that was designed to prevent us "sitting down on the job". Then Dan and a female slave were brought, to take up their special positions at the stern and bow respectively.

The looks on their faces, in the brief moment I saw them before they took their places, clearly showed that neither of them had any idea what was about to happen. With a touch of sympathy, I remembered my own feelings in the same situation... then a very real surge of envy replaced the sympathy, as I also remembered the sheer excitement and enjoyment they were about to experience!

Obviously, from then on, I wasn't able to watch their reactions: but I did see their counterparts on the other boat during the warm-up before the race itself. Naturally, I thought Brenda looked as sexy as any attractive woman would, her naked body leaning forward dramatically to 'breast the waves' and her arms and legs tied back to heighten the effect: just as naturally -- given my feelings towards Helen! -- I thought Helen had looked even better, last time! The male slave acting as the 'rudder' on the other boat was nothing if not impressive: he had a very large cock, which was erect and swinging back and forth as his Mistress experimented with using it for steering. I also caught sight of Helen as one of the paddlers, and -- though I'd missed her name on the list! -- Nicole as well, not to mention Master Paul giving orders as the other boat's 'skipper'!

That, however, was about all I -- or any of my fellow-paddlers, except Dan, our 'rudder' -- saw of the other boat, because we won the race easily: no thanks to superior tactics or anything like that, it just happened that we were the stronger paddlers. We caught only occasional glimpses of it, after we rounded the marker launch and it was still approaching it.

As one of the winning 'crew', I got a strange thrill out of stepping over the backs of the losing crew slaves to get to the beach. The onlookers -- the Masters and Mistresses whose slaves had paddled but who hadn't been on the boats themselves -- were ashore by now, my Mistress amongst them. She greeted me with a broad grin and "Good work, slave! You and your fellow-paddlers won me a sizable bet with one of the other owners! But now I'll leave you to enjoy your victory, as your skipper decides to let you."

Just then, we caught sight of Master Paul talking with the Entertainment Officer who was organizing things: I saw Master Paul grin wryly and nod, then the officer went to the skipper of our boat, called for attention and announced, "The losong skipper has already congratulated the winning skipper privately, but he now wishes to do so publicly."

Master Paul came forward and addressed the winning skipper. "Once again," he said formally, "I congratulate you on winning the race: your paddlers were clearly better than mine!" Waiting for her acknowlegement, he went on, "I also want to carry on a tradition associated with this race, namely, that the losing skipper offers himself as a slave to the winning skipper for the duration of the picnic. So... what are your orders. ma'am?"

By the look on her face, this was a complete surprise to the winning skipper, but she recovered quickly. "Well, well," she smiled, "this is interesting, and it could be fun... if you're quite sure?" Master Paul's firm nod brought another smile, and she continued, "I guess the first thing is to get you naked, like a slave ought to be. No, don't take your clothes off: I feel like doing that myself... unless you have some objections... slave?"

These last words were spoken sweetly, but with the underlying steel that all Mistresses seemed able to command. Resigning himself to his 'fate', Master Paul obediently stood to attention while she unbuttoned his shirt and drew it off over his arms, then spent a minute or so running her hands over his chest and pinching his nipples. Then she tied his wrists behind his back before undoing his belt and letting his trousers slip to the ground: ordering him to step out of them, but to keep his legs apart, she borrowed a sharp knife from a picnic hamper and used it to nearly cut through the waist and leg bands of his underpants at the back.

Finally she returned to face Master Paul again, took a frim grip at the front of the waist band, and tugged sharply to rip the underpants from his hips and leave him completely naked. His cock, suddenly free of the restriction of clothing, seemed almost to spring up and stand erect for everyone to see. A loud "Oooh!" from the mouths of many of the slaves watching, brought a distinct blush to his cheeks... and a smile to the lips of the Mistress facing him!

"Down, slaves!" she said, sharply but cheerfully. "This one's not for you: it's mine!" Very deliberately, she spent several minutes looking Master Paul's naked body up and down, but without making any move to touch him: her inspection, as was no doubt her intention, caused his blush to deepen... as well as his cock to grow even harder! Finally she called on one of her paddler' slaves to kneel beside him and fit cuffs and a hobble-chain to his ankles -- "I don't want him free to run," she said, "but he'll need his hands free to serve me lunch!

"Now," she went on when that was done, "I've been thinking about how to reward my paddlers for their good work, and I've decided to combine that with one of the penalties for your paddlers." She grinned at Master Paul. "Weren't so good, were they? Otherwise you and I might be standing in the other's place, eh?

"At the same time, it'll be a bit of entertainment for us all. I want all the slaves from the losing boat to line up and pose with their hands clasped behind their backs: now, may I have the list of the names of my 'winning' slaves, please?" The officer who had organized the race gave her a sheet of paper, and she continued, "I'll read the names in the order they appear, and each slave may choose one of the 'losing' slaves; the chosen slaves will in turn amuse us as we're eating our lunch, by eating the slaves who chose them. Is that OK?" She obtained the officer's approval, and asked him to see to the carrying out of this plan.

My excitement had begun to rise during this little speech, and it grew even higher as things got under way: the 'losing' slaves were all in a line, their naked bodies on full display, 'our skipper' started to call the names from the list, and each 'winning' slave was allowed to walk along the line and indicate his or her choice by pulling the chosen slave from the line. The officer saw to it that each pair was identified, simply by using a marker pen to write a number on a prominent part of both slaves' bodies!

The reader may -- quite understandably! -- be assuming that my choice would be Helen, considering how I felt about her. I'll admit I did consider choosing her: but, in the event, she was 'taken' well before my turn arrived. Dan, our rudder', and the girl who'd been our 'figurehead', were the first two names on the list: and Dan showed little hesitation in choosing Helen for himself!

In any case, I was also interested in making another choice. When my turn did come, I decided to milk my 'moment' for all it was worth, by walking slowly along the line and carefully inspecting each and every slave, even the males... until the skipper told me sharply to get on with it, or I might lose my chance! Then I went straight to the slave-girl I'd already chosen. Most of the choices had been made by the chooser grasping some part of the choosee's body -- males usually by their cocks, females by a nipple or even a handful of pussy hair -- but I swept a large handful of Nicole 's long and luxuriant hair into my grip and used it to pull her, smiling and unresisting, from the line!

Now the picnic lunch got under way: as before, the 'losing' slaves had to wait on the 'winning' Masters and Mistresses, both those who had been on the boat and those who had been onlookers. In particular, the 'winning' skipper took delight in demanding the most obsequious service from her temporary slave: Master Paul spent most of the meal on his knees, shuffling between the tables of food and her side, putting choice morsels in her mouth and holding her wine glass to her lips. We 'winning' slaves didn't need to serve, but neither were we waited on: we were allowed to help ourselves, but only after the 'losing' owners, who had to look after themselves without slave service.

The promised 'show' got under way, too! As each number was called, the two nominated slaves left their eating and serving, and went into the open space in the centre of the picnickers -- for a different kind of eating! When it was my turn, I made Nicole kneel in front of me and use her skillful hands on my cock and balls until the former was rock-hard, then run them up and down my legs and over my bum while her talented mouth was busy on my cock: meanwhile, I ran my hands through her glorious long hair, lifting it and allowing the breeze to swirl it sensually over my own nakedness. Our little performance was all too short -- I could have made it last longer, but we were ordered to be quick -- and finally my orgasm came and I clutched handfuls of Nicole's hair as I arched my back and my cock shot its fluid deep into her throat.

Some people were still eating -- food, that is! -- when the last 'winning' slave-girl climaxed with the 'losing' slave's mouth deep in her pussy: but most were finished, one appetite satisfied but another aroused by what they'd been watching. The organizing officer, in consultation with the winning skipper, soon had the afternoon's activities started: the first of these was the choice, by lot, of one male and one female 'losing' slave to be tied to convenient palm trees and given a few strokes with a light whip by each of the owners on the winning boat.

The main activity, however, and the one that all the 'winning' owners were eagerly anticipating, was their opportunity to 'claim' one of the 'losing' slaves and lead him or her into the nearby dunes for more personal activities! The first to do this was naturally the winning skipper, who now touched Master Paul for the very first time, taking a firm grip of his balls and leading him away with a broad grin of anticipation. After she set the example, the other winning owners made their claims one by one as the mood took them: the organizing officer tried to see to it that as many owners as possible got the slave of their choice, but once or twice he had resolve a disagreement by drawing lots.

I happened to be nearby when my Mistress and two others were involved in such a draw... over the slave who'd been the 'rudder' on the losing boat. It wasn't hard to guess why they were all so interested: this particular slave was built like a football player, tall, broad and well-muscled, and with a cock that was abnormally large even when it was limp -- which wasn't often! He and his Mistress were on their first cruise, and up to now she had kept him very much to herself: but the idea of using him -- or rather, his cock! -- to steer a boat in the race, had seemed an offer too interesting to refuse.

To her unashamed delight, my Mistress drew the lucky straw! I watched, fascinated despite more than a touch of jealousy, as she claimed her 'prize' by tying his wrists and elbows tightly behind him, then tying another rope around the base of his huge erection and taking the other end to lead him away into the dunes. The activities of the next hour or so did little to diminish my jealousy and, when she reappeared with him in tow, the now limp state of his cock only made me reach the obvious conclusion about what had happened.

Naturally, I wasn't nearly game to ask her to confirm or deny my suspicions, but she confirmed them anyway... although not to me directly. She had hardly let her temporary slave go, when the two other Mistresses came up to her and asked excitedly, "Well, how was it?!" My Mistress smiled a satisfied smile and told them...

With me standing right beside her, she said, "He's a big strong slave, so I decided it would be best to make sure he was well bound first: I made him cross his legs tailor-fashion, and tied his ankles to each other and to his thighs very tightly, then made him get up on his knees and lean against a tree while I pulled a rope tight between his ankles and wrists. When I lowered him back so that he was lying on his arms, he was so beautifully helpless: his raised hips and his spread thighs made everything so available!

"In spite of his size and strength, he seems to be a pretty submissive slave, because this tight bondage had made that cock of his even bigger... I could hardly believe it myself," -- she grinned at the murmurs of disbelief from her listeners -- "but it's true! It lay there on his belly, looking like a big sausage, and seemed to almost reach his chin: it was great fun to sit between his knees and hold it up and use both hands to run up and down it, and it was so heavy when I tormented him by slapping it hard from side to side with my palms!

"Maybe you won't believe this, but I honestly planned to work on him just like that, and make him come to see how far a fire-hose that size could shoot," -- the faces of her listeners made it quite plain they didn't believe her! -- but I must admit that the temptation got the better of me: I just had to find out how it felt inside! I took my clothes off and lowered myself on to that long thick rod."

Now her audience was really listening, and she seemed to warm to her tale. "I did it very slowly, and I had to pause once or twice to make myself relax more, but at last I had to stop when it felt as if its head was about to block my throat! I looked down, and found that I was still a few inches above his crotch, but there was no way I could take any more of it!

"I rode him slowly, enjoying the unusual sensations of such thickness. The fact that I couldn't take his whole length meant that my weight was always on my knees and shins, resting on his belly and right on the stretched tendons of his thighs: and when I lifted myself until its head was almost out, I had to stand nearly right up on my knees. It probably wasn't very comfortable for him, but since when do mere slaves deserve comfort and, anyway, he didn't complain!"

She grinned teasingly at her listeners' impatience at this digression. "Like I said, the sensations were interesting, but not as exciting as they might have been. You see, my clit never came in contact with anything, so I stayed pretty unaroused: I guess I could have used my own fingers but, after all, this was supposed to be an objective experiment, purely for experience, you understand?" Her audience made it perfectly clear that they did not, bringing another chuckle from my Mistress.

"Well, to the point," she smiled. "When my captive came -- pretty soon, though I say it myself! -- his sheer strength enabled him to buck quite sharply, in spite of his bondage, and the spurt of juices inside me felt like a fire-hose. Honestly, I did almost regret not seeing how far it would have shot: maybe, I thought, I can bring him off again and still see it.

"Anyway, he'd had his pleasure, and it was now time for me to get some. I turned around and put my pussy on his mouth, so that he had to swallow his own juices at the same time as using his tongue on my clit. Once again, it wasn't very comfortable for him, because I took care to rest all my weight on his chest and shoulders, and not only that: as a kind of penalty for being allowed to come inside me, I gave that cock of his some fairly rough treatment with my nails, and also used a handful of tough reeds to whip the insides of his thighs, on his belly and even a few strokes over his balls.

"His tongue's not bad," she finished almost nonchalantly, "but I've had better. I did have quite a nice climax, though. Interesting, you know," her tone changed to one of serious discussion, "it must take more energy to get a hard-on and come with a cock that size, because I couldn't bring it up again: it stayed quite limp and flopped around on his belly like a big wet eel! Even my slave can usually get his hard again within a few minutes..."

Throughout this long and detailed anecdote, I had no choice but to stay close beside her and listen, because she had casually but deliberately taken a good grip on my balls. My jealousy had steadily grown stronger, at the way she described her enjoyment of something I could never give her, along with my deepening humiliation at having to listen to these explicit details. Her final remark, however, seemed to dissolve the jealousy as if had never existed: it was replaced by a swelling of inordinate pride, that she seemed to prefer me, even in one small way, to that big muscular slave with his huge cock!

My humiliation was still present, though, and perhaps stronger than ever: but now it served to emphasise the real message I realized she was sending me. Precisely by telling this story in this way in front of me, she was asserting her right, as my Mistress, to use another slave as she wished, as well as reminding me very firmly of my place -- as her slave , with no rights at all! As usual, my submissive nature responded to her message with a surge of the intense excitement that by now was quite familiar.

Later, on the way back to the ship, I was lucky enough to have a few minutes alone with Helen -- we slaves were taken back in one launch, the Masters and Mistresses in the other. I told her briefly about the events just related, and confided in her the feelings I'd experienced.

"Yes, it's a wonderful feeling, isn't it?" she responded, her eyes shining. "So exciting and humiliating at the same time. You and I really are learning how to be slaves, and we've come a long way since those first few days on the island, haven't we? Aren't you glad you chose to become a full-time slave?"

Am I ever!!