On Loan Part IX
A day of shopping turns into another adventure filled with new pleasures in the next chapter of moonmagiclady’s epic journey.
My class the following day was fortunately easy to pick up on and follow… a good thing as I had only caught a few hours of sleep. (And at 37, two hours of sleep was simply NOT enough.) The class ended very late in the afternoon and I took some time to stroll down Waikiki beach and bask in the remaining sun. My body was sore and achy from the previous day’s activities, but in a wonderfully sensual way. I adore the way my body feels after an intense session of being used and abused. Every muscle sore but relaxed, every inch of my skin, whether decorated with a mark or not, seemed to flare up with the memory of each touch on my skin.
The sands in Waikiki really are as beautiful and inviting as years of movies have shown, the blue and white blinding ocean a constant hypnotic sound in the background. A light breeze rolling in caresses my skin and carries the scents of salt, plumeria blooming along the beach, and the ever present smell of sunscreen and asphalt. There are always other sounds besides the ocean in Waikiki, traffic crawling slowly down Kalakaua Avenue, people talking in a variety of languages and accents, but under it all, no matter what or when, is the sound of the water rolling into the shore.
Drawn by the hypnotic patterns of the sun sparkling on the water, I step over the short stone wall that separates the sidewalk from the beach and settle onto the hot sand, the warmth beating into my sore muscles, helping them relax. I drift off into simply feeling my body, savoring the languorous aches when I hear a voice call out my name and turn to see the host from the card game the previous evening waving to me from the sidewalk. I smile and walk over to join him, wondering why he has come to pick me up.
He explains to me, with just the slightest touch of an accent I can’t quite place, a blend of slight south and somewhere more exotic, that he is taking me shopping as my Dom is still enjoying the company of the blonde slave girl. For a moment I am hotly jealous, my vanity stung, but then I remember the hosts touch from the night before, and my smile widens. Let my Dom enjoy himself… I could feel my nipples harden and tingle… I was sure I would be well taken care of indeed.
My host’s smile widens in reply, and he reaches out with a bag from one of the local shops, the expensive ones where the Japanese tourist girls shop. I open the bag and pull out a black handful of straps and cloth that in a generous moment could be called a bikini. No wrap. My host points me to the restrooms, and gives me a hard smack on a particularly sore spot on my ass to hurry me on my way. As I reach the restroom, about twenty feet away, he calls my name across the beach.
“Hurry up you cheap slut… I don’t have all night.”
I blush bright red as heads turn to stare at me and duck into the bathroom fuming, but more aroused than before. I do know people on this island, but the odds of them being in Waikiki are between slim and none. I tie the bikini straps at hips and between my breasts, I love that particular cut of a bikini due to the even easier access it allows, and my host’s choice of it amused me quite a bit.
Blushing all over I left the bathroom with the equivalent of minimal the law would allow being covered. The now setting sun had drawn the usual crowd of tourists down to the beach, and heads turned as I exited the restroom. Looking around for my host, I saw he had pulled his car around onto the busy street, and he pointed for me to go wait at the corner light. Two of the working girls, out early, glared at me and I was afraid I was going to get my ass kicked before my host would get there. He pulled up beside me as the light turned red, opened the door and ordered me to get in. Scared now, I didn’t hesitate at all. Catty comments and threats were clearly audible behind me when the bikini slipped to the side as I entered the car, swollen and aroused pussy lips peeking out.
My host turned and drove us in the direction of Waikiki Aquarium, and area where it’s occasionally possible to find parking, slightly less busy. We pulled into an almost empty parking area, and my host popped the trunk and removed some thick black cord. He crosses over to my side of the car and gives me a mischievous smile. Opening my door, he orders me to reach my hands behind my head, and using the rope, ties my crossed wrists behind me to the back of the base of the seat. More rope is ran behind me and around my knees to ensure my legs are restrained as wide open as the car will allow. So far I have been lucky and no one has wandered by, but my host is going to make sure that changes.
I can’t help pulling against the restraints a little, wondering what is planned next for me, when a cardboard sign is held up in front of me. The words “I’m a Filthy Slut.” are printed on it in big black block letters. I shake my head for a moment, not sure what is going to happen, or if I want to continue. My host frowns and asks me if I want to use my safe word and after a moment I shake my head more vigorously. No way am I going to let him go back and tell my Dom that I had backed out.
The sign is placed around my neck, hanging between my breasts. I whimper softly as a long black scarf is wound around my eyes, and wound again to help muffle sounds from reaching my ears. I can do nothing but whimper again as a ring gag is pushed firmly into my mouth. My hair, pulled up into a ponytail, is pulled back and more rope soon joins my ponytail to the rope running behind the seat. I tug gently on my restraints, trying to establish how far I can move when I hear the door close and my host walk a few steps away.
People are jogging on the sidewalk not twenty feet away, the streetlights flickering on as the sun sets, tourists strolling back to their hotels getting ready for dinner. I hear him call out, and then a group of men’s voices speaking. I can’t tell what is being said, but the car door opens. I’m humiliated and blushing in shame, but ever so wet at the knowledge that I am revealed to these strangers for the slut I am. Voices again, questioning and my hosts answer. I immediately realize what has been asked as the bikini is untied and my breasts spill forth, the bottoms pulled to the side.
Strangers’ hands, I realize there is more than one now, as four hands are touching me, roam my body, calling forth my responses and making me writhe gently in my seat. The men caress my breasts, softly and tenderly, fingers lightly run across my pussy and then a fingertip slightly inserted inside makes me thrust my hips forward, begging for more, begging for harsher. Sometimes my body is a harp, its strings easily played by any passing stranger, but it takes more than a random touch to bring forth my most lovely tunes. The strangers’ touches arouse my body, and the situation arouses my mind, but the two are not in tandem, not until I hear the host’s voice again.
The hands leave me, and I feel the host’s touch, a sharp pinch tightening on my nipples until I arch my back and keen in pleasure pain. Hands leaving my burning breasts and fingers are shoved deep in my mouth before wiping my saliva over my cheek. Deep male laughter sounds, and another question answered with a short denial. Laughter again, and then the voices fade and again only the background noises of the park ride the air.
For a moment I sit exposed, the breeze blowing in, and then the car door shuts, footsteps, and then the sound of him calling out to another group of men starts the entire experience over again. I lose count of how many men touch me, how many are allowed access to my wet and needy pussy. Some are gentle and tender, almost shocked, others are rougher and demanding, each one unique. Each touch different, each appreciating a different area of my body… and my host’s touch, over and over, demanding arousal of me, demanding wordless pleas, leaving me unsure if the pleas are for mercy or no mercy.
The air has grown cooler when the final group finishes, and I am unbound from the seat and encouraged to exit the car. I stretch achy limbs and reach to remove the blindfold when I feel my ponytail wrapped around a fist, and a gentle tug takes me to my knees another tug guides my stretched open mouth to a cock. The host’s cock fits perfectly through the ring holding my mouth open, and he shows me no leniency as he fucks my face over and over, using me for his own satisfaction. I cough and gag and he pull back only long enough for me to breathe, than pushes me slowly back down on his cock. His tight grip holds me there as he slowly and clearly counts out loud to ten, my body panicking and struggling for oxygen as he reaches eight, my head spinning as I hear him say “ten.”
I am allowed up and to gasp for oxygen, then with no more of a respite, pushed back down for another count of ten. This time as he reaches nine, the host begins to pour his jism into my throat. His count of ten is followed by a slight pulling back of his cock and more cum spurting into my mouth. The ring gag is removed so that I can lick and suck my host clean, and then the blindfold taken off. I am instructed to retie the bikini, and use the scarf that has served as a blindfold to wrap as a short sarong around my hips.
I obey instantly and smiles on both our faces, we head back into busy Waikiki for me to be taken shopping.
