Key West (6 page)

Twenty minutes ago, she might have actually been tempted—or at least have been tempted if Chris were coming along. “Sorry, I…can’t.”

Quickly, she put her bra back on and slid her baby doll tee over her head, pulling it down to her hips. She tried to straighten her khaki shirt, glad the breeze and tropical temperatures were beginning to make it feel more damp than wet, so people wouldn’t have a reason to stare once she left the boat.

Glancing out over the water and Sunset Key, now only a silhouette in the distance, she realized she’d—they’d
all
—missed the sunset, as now only a dim glow remained to light the sky. But she was glad it had turned dark, since it helped her keep a low profile as the boat eased into port.

Around her, people talked, flirted, or recovered from sexual liaisons, but she kept to herself. As soon as the boat docked, Scott’s voice came over the mike. “Thanks for cruising with us on the
Party Barge
. Hope you all had a great time, and from what I saw,” he said with a laugh, “you sure as hell did.” She took that as her cue to head to the front of the boat, where she’d entered. She wasted no time darting through the crowd and off the catamaran into the darkness.

“Angel, wait!”

She gasped—Chris had seen her leave. But she didn’t stop walking—she kept moving, step after quick step, mortified at her behavior and desperate to be alone. In one sense, the things she’d done tonight had been so utterly exciting, freeing, and just plain hot fun—yet she was the family angel, whom her sister Diana had once declared, “the only person I know more prim and proper than Liz.” Even Liz had loosened up now, saying that finding her P.I. guy Jack had made it easy, but unfortunately, it wasn’t coming that simple to Carrie. Twenty-six years of walking the straight and narrow had left her feeling supremely embarrassed, and unable to accept that she’d committed acts so unlike her. And she’d enjoyed it. God, had she ever enjoyed it.

The truth was, even as she made her way back to the hotel abreast of the marina, her pussy—yes, she couldn’t seem to not think of it that way now—her pussy pulsed with the memories, the sexual liberation, the sheer magnetism she’d felt toward Chris.

But like touching herself on the balcony today—this couldn’t be real, couldn’t be her. If it was, she didn’t know herself at all anymore. And that was just too big a concept to fathom.

* * * * *

Back in her lavish suite, Carrie showered and put on one of the silky chemises she’d gotten for her wedding shower—this one a coral color and given to her by Liz because “it seemed sexy and tropical and will look great against a tan.”

She considered lying in bed, watching TV, or trying once more to read her book, but she remained too wound up from the events on the boat. It wasn’t that she regretted them exactly, it was just that…well, she’d been so forward. More than forward. She’d been out-of-her-head wild and hedonistic. And when it had all been over, she’d felt so mortally embarrassed she’d just needed to escape.

Checking the mini-bar, she found a kiwi wine cooler. After unscrewing the top, she turned off the lamp in the room and stepped out onto her balcony to soak up the peaceful Key West night.

Peaceful
here
, anyway. A few blocks away on Duval Street, she knew people were drinking and carousing and probably behaving much like they had—like
she
had—on the boat today. Like earlier, but for a different reason now, she was glad her balcony looked out on the ocean. Settling in a lounge chair, she studied the streak of silver cast across the dark water from the light of the moon and let the beauty and warmth of the tropical night begin to relax her.

She was halfway through her cooler when she heard a noise and looked across to the other balcony, set at a right angle from hers. The light from inside the room gave her a clear view of the woman who came out wearing—oh my!—a leather…bra, or maybe it was more like a harness, since it only stretched
around
her breasts, rather than covering them. The leather straps comprising the garment were connected by thick silver rings and she wore a black collar around her neck, a silver ring suspended from its center. In place of panties, more black leather bands connected, circling her hips, and two bands extended down between her legs, on either side of her pussy, which Carrie noticed immediately was shaved bare but for a patch of hair well above her slit. The woman looked about her age and was lovely with long, blonde wavy hair that fell over her shoulders, and firm breasts with beaded nipples that looked like sheer perfection poking through the leather.

Reaching the rail, the woman turned her back against it, giving Carrie a nice view of her nude profile, extending down to wicked-looking thigh-high boots, the likes of which she’d only seen in the occasional catalog.

Carrie stayed very quiet, not even daring to lift her bottle from the table next to her for a drink. Her nipples had turned to hard peaks against the silky chemise.

“Where’s my dirty little sex slave?” a man’s voice called from inside the open balcony door.

“I’m out here, master.”

Carrie’s first thought was that the woman sounded like Barbara Eden in old episodes of
I Dream of Jeannie
, her very tone conveying a sexual compliance that made Carrie’s pussy begin to swell slightly within her panties.

The man exited onto the balcony wearing only a leather collar that matched his partner’s. His cock stood incredibly large and erect between his thighs, the very sight making Carrie’s cunt flutter uncontrollably. “Are you being bad again? Trying to hide from me?”

The pretty blonde shook her head. “Oh no, master. My only wish is to please you.”

“Then get on your knees and suck my cock.”

Again, Carrie’s pussy spasmed. She’d heard about such games of domination, of course, but she’d never witnessed one. She watched as the woman followed the hot guy’s order, kneeling before him, wrapping one hand around his big shaft, and lowering her mouth onto it. The blonde went at her task so ravenously that wet slurping sounds filled the air. On instinct, Carrie eased one hand down between her thighs. She didn’t move it, but just cupped her mound, somehow trying to ease the ache there even as she attempted to suppress it.

“That’s right, slave girl, suck me.” He took the blonde’s face in his hands, tilting it back so he could watch her. “You look so hot going down on me, baby. That’s right. Keep sucking. Be a good slave and you might even get a reward.”

Carrie continued studying the scene with bated breath, her every pore seeming to tingle with the forbidden thrill of watching the leather couple. Finally, the guy said, “All right, slave girl, you can stop now. Get up and lean back against the railing.”

The woman did so, her face flushed, her eyes wide with excitement. Carrie hadn’t seen the guy carry anything out with him, but he suddenly produced two sets of silver handcuffs that gleamed in the moonlight. He used them to encase each of her wrists, locking each accompanying cuff to the railing so her arms were stretched out on either side of her. Even from her balcony, Carrie could see the girl’s face still brimmed with anticipation, even as she pretended to be frightened. “What are you going to do me now, master?”

“I’m going to lick your hot little cunt.” He spoke the words as if they were the worst punishment. Next, he dropped down between her thighs and said, “Spread, slave.”

The blonde complied, parting her legs as much as she appeared able to, given her confinement with the cuffs, and Carrie’s only regret was that she didn’t have a better view of the woman’s pussy. She watched as the guy sank his face eagerly into her crotch, appearing to eat voraciously at her. The blonde moaned and groaned as she thrust herself against him. “Oh God, oh God, lick me.”

The man gripped her ass, leaning his head back to peer possessively up at her as he worked his tongue. Carrie had to bite her lip, squeeze her own pussy tighter in her palm as she watched his tongue flitting about the blonde’s clit, delivering long, lapping strokes from bottom to top.

“Oh, you beast,” the woman cried. “I can’t stand it. Let me loose. I want to hold your head to my pussy. I want to play with my breasts. Undo my wrists, master. Please.” She pulled at the cuffs, making them jangle against the metal rails, and the sound seemed to echo through Carrie’s cunt.

The guy pulled back to deliver a threatening look. “Do you dare to defy me?”

The woman was panting now—in pleasure or frustration or both, Carrie couldn’t determine. “I…I can’t help it. Your tongue on my cunt feels too good. I need to…to
touch
…
something, anything
,
while you lick my pussy. I need to hold onto something. Grip something tight. I can’t stand being locked up this way. And my breasts need some attention. I need to touch them, master,” she whimpered.

At her crotch, her “master” simply shook his head. “You’re a bad, bad girl. A selfish little slave. You have to be punished.”

The blonde pulled in her breath, her breasts jiggling slightly. “How?”

“Well, to begin with, you’re staying locked up, and I’m gonna lick your hot little pussy ‘til you come.”

Hmm, Carrie thought,
some
torture. What she wouldn’t give right now to have someone lick
her
clit. Loosening her hold on her mound just slightly, she brushed her fingertips over the cotton between her thighs.

She watched with rapt fascination as the sexy guy buried his tongue in his “slave’s” pussy once more. Above him, the woman panted and moaned, yanking at the cuffs, thrusting her cunt at his tongue, finally letting her head fall back as she sank into a firm, steady rhythm. Leather-clad knees bent outward, she lifted her pelvis to his mouth over and over, her expression still pained, but acceptant now. “Oooh, master, yes. Yes. Like that. Lick me just like that.”

She continued lifting, thrusting, as Carrie slid her free hand up her smooth chemise over her stomach and onto her breast. She caressed herself through the slick fabric, liking the way her round flesh and hard nipple felt through the silk.

“Oh God, yes, master—now! Now! I’m coming for you, master! I’m coming so hard!” She thrust at his face in hot, firm pelvic stabs that were so brutal Carrie nearly felt them, too, pulsing through her breasts, thighs, and pussy.

As the blonde panted her relief, her orgasm appearing to pass, her body went partially limp against the railing, her arms still held outstretched by the cuffs. “Unlock me now.”

The guy reached behind him to the balcony table for the key and unlocked one cuff from the rail. She sighed with relief at being able to pull her arm free. But no sooner had he undone the handcuff than he turned her body around to face the ocean. “What are you…?”

Carrie heard another click and when the blonde said, “Damn it,” Carrie knew he’d locked her back to the railing, only in this new position.

He spoke firmly. “I said you had to be punished. And getting you off wasn’t exactly punishment, was it?”

She looked over her shoulder and bit off the words, “Damn you.”

As before, he simply shook his head, chiding her. “You’re being such a bad girl tonight. Just digging yourself in deeper every minute.”

“What are you going to do to me?”

Carrie could see his wicked smile from where she sat. “I’m going to fuck you with a new toy, slave girl.”

“What new toy?” the blonde snapped, clearly caught off guard.

He gave his head a scolding tilt. “Turn back around and you’ll find out.” When she didn’t comply immediately, he barked, “Do it,” and she finally obeyed.

The guy moved back to the table and Carrie couldn’t see exactly what he was doing, only that he seemed to be securing something around his waist. When he turned back around a moment later, she saw he’d strapped on a black dildo that stood above his already massive cock.

Her cunt practically withered in response—she’d never seen anything so sexually threatening in her life. God, that poor woman!

He stepped up behind the unsuspecting blonde, using one hand to hold the black phallus out of the way while he used the other to position his real cock against her.

“Ohhhhh,” the woman moaned and Carrie’s pussy tingled again at witnessing the “slave’s” pleasure, imaging how it would feel to have that huge cock sink into
her
right now, imagining if it were her bent over the railing and Chris entering her from behind.

“Do you like that, slave girl?”

“Mmm, yes.”

“Well, get ready for cock number two.”

As Carrie watched, he positioned the strapped on penis in the crack of the blonde girl’s ass, and thrust slowly inward. The blonde let out a ferocious groan that made Carrie’s skin prickle with discomfort. God, had he just inserted it in her anus?

“Oh, that’s big,” the woman rasped out. “We’ve never used anything that big in my ass before.”

“Does it hurt?” For the first time, the “master’s” voice echoed with concern.

Her voice sounded breathy. “Kind of. I’m not even sure I’ll be able to take it when you start fucking me.” She cast a dark look over her shoulder at him. “But I like it.”

His expression turned controlling again. “You’re ready for it, slave. I’ve been
getting
you ready. So you’ll take it, all right.” He leaned slightly forward, his voice going low and authoritative. “You’ll be a good little slave and take your punishment. You’ll take it as long as I want to give it.”

Although his words nearly made Carrie shiver, despite the heat, she could see by the woman’s eyes, even more dark and feral now, that his threat turned her on. “Yes, master. For you, I’ll take it.”