Chapter 23
Laura
My pussy clenched hard behind the seal at Mike’s flat command. I picked up the white microkini with trembling hands, the tiny triangles of fabric looking even more obscene in the Hawaiian sunlight streaming through the windows.
“Go ahead,” Mike said, settling into a chair to watch. “Put it on for me.”
I turned away, my face blazing, but his voice stopped me.
“No. Face me. I want to see.”
I forced myself to turn back around, dropping the robe with shaking hands.
Being naked in front of him should have felt routine by now after everything he’d done to me and made me do, but somehow this was different.
It seemed crazy, but the idea of putting on this bathing suit that I’d so unwisely picked out at the boutique—of covering up my nakedness that way—suddenly seemed like the most mortifying thing imaginable.
Like I would be somehow more naked than naked.
Never mind that I would then have to wear the ultra-revealing thing outside…
I stepped into the bottoms first, pulling the tiny white strings up my hips.
The fabric barely covered anything—just a small triangle over my sealed pussy that to my distress even seemed to show in outline the smooth, unnatural seam where my labia had been pressed together.
The strings tied at my hips with little bows that felt absurdly innocent given how exposed I was.
The tiny string between my still sore bottom cheeks left their twin roundness completely bare.
The top was even worse. I fumbled with the strings, finally managing to tie them behind my neck and back. My breasts were barely contained, my nipples almost visible through the thin white fabric. I stood there, arms at my sides, feeling more exposed than if I’d worn nothing at all.
Mike’s eyes darkened as they traveled over my body.
I could see his desire, frank and unashamed, and it made my sealed pussy throb with desperate need.
He was going to rip this off me, I was sure of it.
He was going to tear away these pathetic scraps of fabric and finally—finally—open the seal and take what he’d been training me for.
My heart hammered so hard I thought it might burst through my chest.
But instead, he just stood up and came to me, his hand cupping my cheek. “Perfect,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “Put some sunscreen on, and let’s go.”
I stared at him in confusion as he grabbed towels and his sunglasses. That was it? No deflowering? No ravishing? Just… swimming?
The walk to the beach felt like the longest of my life.
I kept my eyes down, mortified by the way the microkini left me so exposed, so vulnerable.
I was sure everyone was staring—the other resort guests, the staff, everyone.
But Mike just held my hand and led me down the winding path to the black sand beach as if I were wearing a perfectly normal swimsuit, or maybe as if a billionaire like him had no qualms about dressing his younger girlfriend this way, about displaying her innocence so obscenely.
The water was wonderfully warm when we waded in, crystal clear with colorful fish darting between the lava rocks. Mike pulled me deeper, until the water reached my chest, and then wrapped his arms around me from behind.
“Relax,” he murmured into my ear. “Just enjoy this.”
I tried. I really did. The setting was paradise—the warm Hawaiian sun on my face, the gentle waves lapping at my shoulders, the tropical breeze carrying the scent of flowers.
But all I could focus on was the emptiness in my bottom.
I’d grown so accustomed to the plug over the past few days that its absence felt wrong, like I was missing something essential.
My body kept clenching involuntarily, searching for the fullness that wasn’t there.
And then there was Mike’s body pressed against mine.
His chest was solid and warm against my back, his arms wrapped around my waist in a way that should have felt protective and sweet.
But I could feel something else too—the unmistakable hardness of his enormous erection pressing against the small of my back through his swim trunks.
The knowledge that he was aroused, that my body in this obscene microkini had turned him on, sent a fresh wave of heat through my core.
My sealed pussy throbbed with desperate need, and I felt myself growing wet behind the tiny opening despite the ocean water surrounding us.
The ache was becoming unbearable—a constant, gnawing hunger that made it hard to think about anything else.
Mike’s lips brushed my ear. “You’re trembling,” he murmured. “What are you thinking about?”
I couldn’t tell him. Couldn’t admit that all I wanted in that moment was for him to carry me back to the room and finally, finally open the seal and fuck me until I screamed, his huge manhood plunging in and out of me, opening me and using me, making me his.
That I felt like I might actually die if he didn’t.
The need was so intense it frightened me.
“Nothing,” I whispered, but my voice came out shaky and unconvincing.
His hand slid down to rest on my hip, his thumb tracing small circles on my bare skin under the water. “Liar,” he said softly, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “But that’s okay. I know exactly what you need.”
The promise in those words made my knees go weak. He held me tighter, keeping me upright as the waves rocked us gently. We stayed like that for what felt like hours, his hard cock pressed against me, my body aching with shameful arousal, until finally Mike suggested we head back.
The walk up to the room felt surreal. My legs were shaky, and every step made me acutely aware of the emptiness inside me, the seal between my legs, the desperate need building with each breath.
Mike kept his arm around my waist, supporting me, and I wondered if he knew how close I was to begging him for relief.
Back in the room, I grabbed my robe and headed for the bathroom, needing a moment alone to collect myself. But as I passed my suitcase, the corner of the t-shirt had come unwrapped, and I caught a glimpse of the martinet’s leather tails coiled inside.
My stomach clenched hard. The sight of that terrible implement should have filled me with dread, but instead I felt something else entirely—a dark, confusing surge of need that I didn’t understand.
I stood there staring at it, my heart pounding, and felt my breath catch in my throat.
The whip… the whip my sponsor kept to teach me my lessons, when I was naughty.
The thing I’d been terrified of since I’d first seen it in the cabinet.
The thing Mike had promised he would use on me when I deserved it.
Why did looking at it make my pussy clench so hard?
I tore my gaze away and practically fled to the bathroom, locking the door behind me even though I knew it was pointless. Mike owned this room, owned me, could come in whenever he wanted. Still, the illusion of privacy helped as I turned on the shower and stepped under the hot spray.
The water felt amazing after the salt and sand, cascading over my shoulders and down my body. I closed my eyes and tried to think about anything other than the aching need between my legs. The philanthropy app. The beautiful resort. The flight here. Anything.
But my hand drifted down almost of its own accord, pressing against the seal. I squeezed my thighs together, feeling that familiar pressure building. It would be so easy. Just a few minutes of the technique Mike had taught me, and I could find relief from this constant desperate arousal.
My core muscles clenched, and I felt the first spark of pleasure. Just a little more and—
No. Mike had forbidden it. He’d said he would know, that the sensor would alert him. And if I disobeyed, he would punish me.
He would use the martinet on me.
The thought should have terrified me. Should have made me stop immediately. Instead, I felt another hard clench of my pussy, wetness gathering even as the water ran over me. What was wrong with me? Why did the idea of being whipped make me need it more?
I leaned against the tile wall, my breathing ragged, and let myself imagine it.
Mike bending me over something, maybe the bed or a chair.
Making me present my bottom for punishment.
The whistle of the leather tails through the air before they landed across my bare cheeks.
The sharp, stinging pain. The humiliation of being disciplined that way, a young woman who had earned a man’s firm hand in correction.
My hand pressed harder against the seal and I started to squeeze, really squeeze, my hips rocking as I worked the muscles Mike had taught me to use. The water pounded down on my back and I was so close, so desperately close—
“Stop.”
My eyes flew open to find Mike standing in the bathroom doorway, still in his swim trunks, water dripping from his hair. He must have just come from the shower on the lanai. His expression was stern, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my knees weak.
“I—I wasn’t—” I stammered, my face hot as the sun.
“Don’t lie to me, Laura.” He crossed to the shower in two strides and opened the glass door. “I can see the data. I know exactly what you were doing.”
I stood there frozen, water streaming over me, my hand still pressed guiltily between my legs.
The terror and arousal warred inside me so intensely I thought I might faint.
He was going to punish me. Right now. He was going to drag me out of this shower and bend me over and use that terrible leather whip on my bare bottom, and everyone in the resort would hear me screaming—
“Turn off the water,” Mike commanded, his voice perfectly calm.
I obeyed with trembling hands, my whole body shaking as I stepped out of the shower. He wrapped a towel around me with surprising gentleness, then cupped my chin and forced me to meet his eyes.
“You disobeyed me,” he said quietly. “You know what that means.”
“Please,” I whispered, tears already forming. “I’m sorry, I just—I couldn’t help it, I needed—”
“I know what you need and what you deserve.” His thumb stroked my jaw.
“And tonight, after dinner, you’re going to get it.
I’m going to whip that pretty little bottom of yours.
And then I’m going to put the big plug in it.
And then—” his voice dropped lower, sending shivers through me “—I’m going to take it out and fuck your virgin ass with my cock. ”
My knees actually buckled. The combination of fear and desperate arousal was too much. He caught me easily, holding me against his chest while I tried to process what he’d just said.
“But first,” Mike continued, “we’re going to have a nice dinner. You’re going to kneel at my feet and eat from my plate like a good girl. And you’re going to think the whole time about what’s coming after.”
The minutes until dinner were torture. Mike ordered me to stay naked while we waited, and I sat curled on the bed trying not to think about the whipping, the huge plug, his cock stretching me open in that forbidden place.
But my body betrayed me constantly—every time I shifted position, I felt the absence of anything there, the aching emptiness.
My sealed pussy throbbed with need so intense it bordered on pain.
When the room service arrived, Mike positioned a chair facing the windows overlooking the darkening ocean. He sat down fully dressed in crisp linen pants and a button-down while I knelt naked on the plush carpet at his feet.
The dinner was elaborate—seared ahi again, this time with a miso glaze, perfectly cooked vegetables, some kind of tropical fruit compote.
Mike fed me bites from his plate, his fingers occasionally brushing my lips, while I tried to ignore the humiliation of my position.
The food was delicious, but I could barely taste it.
All I could think about was what would happen after.
“You’re shaking,” Mike observed, offering me another bite of tuna.
I swallowed hard. “I’m scared.”
“I know.” His hand stroked my hair gently. “But you need this, sweetheart. You know you do. Your body can’t lie.”