The island was kidney-shaped, with eight villas ringed around its outer concave edge, each with its own small swimming pool, private dock and stretch of beach. There was a larger communal beach with its own set of docks spanning the convex side, leading to a common area at the center of the island hosting a supermarket, a spa and gym, no less than three five-star restaurants, and a small cinema.
Honor had discovered the information about the rest of the island resort entirely from the information pack in the living room because she hadn't yet left the grounds of Villa 6.
She knew of the island resort's strict over eighteen policy because Marq had told her about it as he was landing the amphibious plane down on the water and bringing it to the dock. The sun was already beginning to sink below the horizon, the sky a riot of color as he helped her out of the aircraft.
The discovery that he could fly a plane had not surprised her, nor had the revelation that he had been a pilot in the Swiss Air Force. But the casual revelation of skill and easy male competence had ignited a thoroughly unfeministic pulsing warmth in her abdomen as they had taken off from Bangkok, and by the time they were landing for the final time, it had become an inferno, her nipples pointing hard through her tube top as she gazed at him. It probably exacerbated matters that she had left her seat to go to his lap during both refueling stops.
They were alone, she had noticed as he helped her alight on the dock, so she had pulled him into a kiss, melding her body against him and licking at his lips. She had guided his hand through the high slit of her long skirt, letting him discover how wet she was, gasping as his fingers found no panties to hinder their exploring, and slid inside her.
She had not protested when he pulled down the top, freeing her boobs, laughing instead as he lavished kisses on them, whimpering and clutching at him as he sucked each nipple in turn into his mouth. The skirt had gone next, and she had been completely naked by the time they had stumbled through the villa's patio sliding doors into the vast open-plan living room.
They fucked on the couch. It looked out to the beach and sunset, and for a moment, the combination of the bright oranges and purples of the sky and blues of the water, the salt-scented ocean breeze and the utter joy of his presence inside her as she settled herself on him had made her sob as she realized that the point of no return was probably already past. But sensible, disciplined Honor Banet rose to the fore again, and she determinedly returned her concentration to pleasuring him, to being pleasured by him. To being his odalisque.
She only noticed that food had been set out for them in thermal containers on the counter that doubled as a kitchen island afterwards, only then fully taking in the understated luxury of the beach house and its decor.
Her breathing was still heavy as she took his offered hand to get up, the wad of semen gleaming wetly where he had deposited it on her mound.
Instead of dining at the table, Marq had taken the food out to the beach, laying out the conveniently placed blanket and pillows on the sand near the closed canopy umbrella. Eating under the rapidly darkening sky, Honor finding herself laughing as he told her yet another story, watching him smile as she recounted hers.
Dessert was a strawberry, passionfruit and mango sago, and after two spoonfuls, she had crawled over to him across the blanket, watching his eyes go to her dangling breasts, smiling at him as she gratifyingly found him mostly up, making him lean back on his elbows as she proceeded to use her mouth to bring him the rest of the way.
He gasped as she abruptly sat up and upturned the sago on his chest, layering it down his stomach, and lower still, her eyes alight with hunger and amusement as he reacted to the cold dessert on his body. She then proceeded to clean up the mess she had made, as thorough and exacting as sensible, disciplined Honor Banet ever was.
His hands were shaking as he grasped her hair by the time she was done. She took her mouth off his penis and clambered on top of him, pressing him down, using her hand to set him at her entrance, smiling at him before sinking down on his erection with a quiet squeal, eyes locked on his as his body shuddered in tandem with her.
She leaned down to kiss him, gently rolling her hips as he reached up to run his hands over her belly, his fingers playing with her sharply pointing nipples as he cupped her breasts, his breaths hard and gasping as she rode him, her movements slow and deliberate, her pussy grasping his shaft as she took him all the way inside her with every rise and fall of her body.
She felt him shudder as he lost control and she leaned down to kiss him again as he came, stiffening and moaning against his lips as he grasped her body, the surge of pride and joy as he grunted and spurted his cum inside her, making her cry out again.
She had woken up the next morning, alone, still nude, and in the master bedroom, only dimly remembering being carried from the beach. She smiled as she remembered being kissed all over her body, remembered his hardness penetrating her again some time during the night.
The curtains had been drawn back, revealing the sunlit beach and the ocean stretching out to the horizon.
Her nose wrinkled as she sat up, eyes opening wide as she realized that the smell was coming from her. She had gotten up quickly then, padding for the door that could only be the room's en suite bathroom, as much from the need to pee as to brush her teeth and shower off the ripe scent of sweat, semen and her own lubrication and ejaculate on her skin.
She did all three, finding new toothbrushes and a collection of shower gels and douches in the artfully recessed drawers and closets. She stepped out of the bathroom after a blissful ten minutes under the shower, smelling of strawberries and sandalwood, hair wrapped in a makeshift towel turban, a full Egyptian cotton bathsheet around her body.
The jewelry box was waiting for her on the bed. Nothing else.
And he was waiting for her when she stepped out of the bedroom, sitting on one of the barstools at the counter, shirtless, glasses perched on his nose, tablet in hand. That he had pants on and she was clad in nothing more than the new body chain she had found in the box did not surprise, or bother her in the slightest.
She was his odalisque.
"Good morning, Miss Banet," he said, putting the tablet down.
"Good morning, Mr. Haydn," she replied, feeling the tell-tale flaring of heat in her abdomen as she swiftly closed the distance between them.
She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, licking out at his lips, melding her nakedness against him. For a while, that was all she did, grunting in additional pleasure as she pulled his hand down and parted her legs for his fingers, allowing him to discover her arousal.
She was happy to discover that he was not wearing anything under his pyjama bottoms and even happier to find his manhood was already at half mast as she went to her knees in front of him. His pants had only made it to knees when she sucked him into her mouth, hearing him gasp as he stumbled back and braced himself against the counter behind him.
She caressed his thighs and stomach as she fellated him, completely focused on his pleasure as he grasped her head, feverishly running his hands through her hair. Her knees were just starting to burn when he let out a pained grunt and pulled her head off him.
He bent and kissed her upturned lips, lifting her up to her feet, caressing her breasts as she braced herself against his chest. His hands dropped to her waist and he spun them around, and then he lifted her onto a bar stool, leaning in to kiss her again, his hands traveling her body.
His lips left hers, breaking the kiss as he licked his way down her chin, her neck, making her lean back against the counter to balance herself, shuddering and gasping as his lips and tongue laved over her beringed and engorged nipples. His mouth left her breasts, continuing its circuit of her body from the sensitive gap stretch of her cleavage down over her belly, over the mound of her abdomen, and lower still as he went to his knees in front of her spread legs.
He held her open as he fed on her pussy, lapping up her wetness as she writhed and shrieked her delight, mouth open wide with no care of being heard as he pleasured her until one more rasp of his tongue on the swollen nub of flesh peeking out of its hood unleashed a gush of liquid from her.
He came to his feet, still holding her open, and entered her as she was still coming, her head still thrown back as her entire body shook, started fucking her as her liquid was still splattering on the floor between them.
He gasped not long after, and not to her surprise, or displeasure in any way, he withdrew and came on her belly. She smiled indulgently at him as he released on her body, enjoying the warmth and starchy scent of him on her skin. She came off the stool when he was done and pressed her body against him again as she kissed him, still shaking from her ordeal and moaning in delight as he hungrily kissed her back.
"Wow," he said, when she ended the kiss.
She had grinned, gazing up at him, proud of herself. "Wow, yourself."
He grinned back. "That was a great way to start the day."
Honor could not have agreed more, and she was sure she made it even better for him when she pushed him against the counter. She kissed him before she went to her knees again, enjoying his rough growl as she took him into her mouth.
She squirmed as she finished her tea, feeling a rush of heat on her cheeks as she remembered him gasping and grasping her head as she sucked and cleaned him up.
It was several hours later since then, and she was sitting in the living room, freshly showered, legs folded underneath her on the couch, looking out to the sun setting on the ocean.
Her reflection in the sliding glass doors stared back at her. Naked still, the whorls of her tattoos dark on her skin. The new zanjir chain was still on her body, running from her neck to her ankle, a chain from each nipple to the chain running between her breasts down to the chain circling her waist.
There was a noise and she started, turning, looking for him to come through the door.
She glanced at her phone again, considering for a moment, calculating time zones, before picking it up and dialing a number.
Sarah had called. Twice.
The call was picked up on the first ring. "Hello? Honor?"
David had called too.
"Hi," she said.
"What happened yesterday?" David demanded. "And today? I couldn't reach you."
"Sorry. I didn't hear it." It was the truth. She had been in the air for much of the day. And after that, her attention, and her body, had been fully occupied by something ... someone, else.
She hadn't heard it today, either. For the same reason.
"That's not like you."
He was right. It wasn't like her to miss his call and not call back within the hour. Sensible, disciplined Honor Banet was nothing if not dependable and eager when it came to the man she loved.
"I'm sorry," she repeated, suddenly very aware of her nakedness as she lied. Wearing anything after her shower, waiting for Marq to return, had not even occurred to her.
What would have been the point?
And besides that, she enjoyed being naked for him; she was his odalisque.
"What have you been doing?"
"Just work. We got an express order for a very big event," she fibbed again. "Remember last year?"
"Oh," he said, mollified, taking the bait. "Last year? That political thing?"
"And then there's the wedding stuff." This time she felt the rush of heat from her chest to her face, flushing at her own mendacity, pointedly reminded of the fact that she had spent the day with patches of another man's semen on her body.
"You must be exhausted."
She feigned a yawn, loudly; it was near midnight back home, where she was supposed to be. "Yes. Just got home ..."
"You should get to sleep," David said reasonably. "We can talk tomorrow."
"Okay."
"I keep seeing women that remind me of you," he added.
She froze, stricken by the surreality of knowing that the woman who had reminded him of her, had been her. And that he had propositioned her without it occurring to him that the woman under the mask was his good girl fiancee ...
"Really?" she asked. "You must really miss me then."
"You can't imagine how much." He chuckled darkly. "I'm horny all the time. Do you miss me too?"
She remembered his hand, low on his Asian companion's back, and it made lying to him easy. "Yes." Unless she was agreeing with him about being horny all the time.
"Yes, what?" he asked.
"Yes, I miss you too."
"We're spending the whole weekend in bed when I get back," he promised.
She sniffed. "Promises, promises."
He laughed. "You'll regret that."
She sniffed again. Then she faked another loud yawn. "Sorry ..."
"Okay," he laughed. "You need to get to sleep. We'll talk tomorrow. I love you, Honor."
"I love you too." She felt herself flush once more.
She hung up, staring at the phone for a long moment, considering calling back and having a much different, and much more honest conversation. About traveling to surprise him in Bangkok. About how long had he been making a fool of her ...
Of course, that would lead to questions about where she had been, and what she had been doing since seeing him and Jillian Blake.
She felt another rush of heat; her 'arrangement' with Marq Haydn had gone to a level of excess that was far beyond payback for her still-fiancee's betrayal with her married neighbor.
She had toyed with him all day, from the kitchen to the outside heated pool, kissing, touching, stroking and sucking him and then pushing him away, giggling as Marq followed after her from room to room and then outside. He always caught up to her, and she had let him lick, stroke and fondle her as a reward, indulging his obsession with using his fingers on her, and she had left multiple wet patches around the villa by the time he slipped into the pool after her, his hardness unaffected by the water.
She had spread her legs for him when he cornered against the pool wall, the water up to her naked breasts, gasping as he effortlessly slid inside her. Despite how long he had been sporting his erection, playing her game, he took it slow, kissing her and stroking deep into her body as she shuddered and loudly voiced out her pleasure.
Both of them knew the game was over, and she was not going anywhere.
Their fingers and toes were pruned by the water by the time he came, grunting as she cooed in his ear, clutching at him as he released inside her.
It was afterward that she experienced another first with Marq Haydn, mere feet from where the water met the sand. Being watched.
They'd had lunch on the beach, where they'd had dinner the night before, the blanket still laid out where they'd left it, the canopy umbrella opened under the afternoon sun. When he had gone in to take delivery of the ordered lunch basket he'd returned with a tube of sunscreen and a determination to apply it to every inch of her skin.
He was thoroughly hard again by the time he was done, somehow managing to include his tongue and lips marauding her breasts and then going between her legs in his own uniquely thorough version of the application of the protective lotion to her body. She had reciprocated at first, refusing to be the only one being so exquisitely tortured, until his tongue had first speared into her pussy, and then she had surrendered completely.
Beyond thought, she had wrestled him down on his back, climbing on top of him, grasping his cock and guiding him inside her, almost crying in relief as she sank down on him.
The yacht was far enough away that she never heard the hum of its engines over the crash of the ocean. And were it not for the cheers of the gathered passengers carried on a random gust of wind, she probably would not have turned and noticed that she had an audience, the glinting from the upper deck telling her that there was more than one pair of binoculars being passed around.
She had frozen, hands instinctively going up to cover her boobs, before Marq had roughly reached up and pulled her down on top of him, her breasts meeting his chest as he wrapped his arms around her, trapping her as he seized her lips. She had cried out, gasping against his mouth as he thrusted harshly up into her pussy, over and over again ... until she started moving with him, kissing him back.
She sat up when he let her go, gazing down at him, arching forward as he reached up to cup and caress her breasts, uncaring of the eyes watching from so far away, any vestige of embarrassment or modesty pushed aside; his eyes the only ones that mattered.
She was his odalisque; the Honor Banet that had enjoyed being paraded through a hotel lobby in nothing but a man's shirt, that had willingly followed him to Ayutthaya with only a sarong to cover her nakedness, that had defiantly met the scandalized stares when he bared her breasts outside the conference centre.
That right then felt no shame in wearing his chain and being witnessed as she rode and pleasured him.
The yacht was still visible in the distance and she knew they were watching when she got off him so he could take her from behind, pausing only to momentarily take his hardness into her mouth, tasting herself on his cock, reveling in his rough gasp before letting go and turning around on her hands and knees, presenting herself. He was quick to follow, and he reached down to grasp and fondle her dangling breasts when he entered her, his growl of pleasure answering her cry of delight.
She reached between her legs, stroking herself as he rode her, screaming as her orgasm came fast, imagining the people watching. He slowed his stroking into her pussy after she came though, and when he finally gasped out loud and pulled out, the yacht had already sailed out of view, so the voyeurs on its decks never saw him lacing his cum over her bum and back. They didn't watch her push and lay him down on the blanket to take him into her mouth again, taking her time to lick and suck him clean.
There was a sound and she started, brought back to the present. It came again and she realized it was the wind thwacking a palm frond on the villa's roof, not the door opening.
She was a bundle of nerves from a full day of relentless attention, her breathing elevated, bared nipples tingling, a rush of warmth between her legs in Pavlovian anticipation of his return. And it was not even up to an hour since he had kissed her lips, and then, to her continued amusement, arousingly, each pointing tip of her breasts, and left her alone in the villa.
She considered again before dialing another number, feeling only slightly guilty that, like her call to David, it was only to get it out of the way.
Sarah answered after five rings. "Hello?"
"Hey. Sorry, I missed your calls."
Honor heard the door open, unmistakably this time, and she turned to watch it swing open as Marq walked in. He smiled at her, and she smiled back, a flush of warmth pulsing through her, her body already reacting as he placed the basket he brought in on the counter.
"Umm, that's fine ..." Sarah said on the phone, after a pause. "Uhh ... is everything okay?"
Honor frowned, Sarah sounded very flustered and breathless. "Yes?"
"Umm, okay ... can we talk tomorrow?"
She smiled, recognizing what sounded suspiciously like lips repeatedly meeting and parting on the other end of the phone. "Oh? Am I interrupting something?"
Another kissing noise, then a giggle. "Yes, you are."
Honor giggled back, understanding that Sarah was being very rapidly alleviated of her clothes. "Say hi to Bryan for me."
More kissing, then a laugh. "Will do! Bye!" She heard a loud moan of pure feminine pleasure before Sarah ended the call.
She put down the phone down on the coffee table and stood up to make her way to the kitchen. The smells wafting out of the basket called to her, but she ignored it all, watching his gray eyes taking in her chained and tattooed body as she came up to him. He smiled at her and she took that as an invitation to move into his arms and kiss him, lewdly licking over his lips.
"I missed you too," he said, after she let go of his lips.
She had a clever retort to that, but instead she kissed him again, thinking of David Brenner. By the clock, it had been more than three hours since he was last inside her. "Shut up and fuck me, Mr. Haydn."
________________________
Her reflection only confirmed that the swimsuit was designed for a woman with much smaller nipples than her own. Most of the darker brown circles of her areolae were rudely visible, only the erect tips of her breasts covered by the too-thin strips of meshy material. They stood out even then, not just from the blast of cold air from the opened fridge but the nooses that gripped and connected them to the body chain she had determined she was not going to take off.
Unless to replace it with another.
She took the prawn pack from the shelf and dropped it in her basket, eyeing herself for a long moment in the fridge's glass doors again as they swung closed, seeing the chain wrapped around her body and her near nudity for the symbols they were. Of how far behind she had left the sensible, disciplined Honor Banet that had secretly flown to Bangkok to surprise her man.