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.

It was no good blaming Marq Haydn; there had been more sensible bikini and even similar barely there one-piece options in the closet, even if all were still scandalously revealing. But 'she' had 'chosen' to wear the most revealing one for her first sojourn outside the villa. Only the sarong around her waist hid the fact that the miniscule thong bottom left nearly all of her pubic mound exposed, only just covering her opening, revealing some days of hair growth since Marq had shaved her.

But it had all been for him, nonetheless.

She felt herself flush as she remembered his reaction when she had stepped out into the living room, the sun hat on her head and the high wedges already on her feet, the sarong not yet part of her ensemble, wanting him to see.

It had been immediate and primal, and she had abandoned any plans of teasing him when he'd reached her. The slingshot had worked as designed, bits and pieces shifted aside as he took her standing against the living room wall, her heels fortuitously lifting her to just the right height.

She had not cleaned up afterwards, and she could still feel the layer of semen on her labia as she made her way to the till. There were less than ten other shoppers in the supermarket, and as she stood behind two young women in the queue, she once again appreciated the resort's strict 'Adults Only' rule. Both were comfortably topless under sheer wraps that did nothing to hide their breasts, chatting animatedly.

"I like your tattoos," said one of them, long braided hair falling down to the middle of her back. She held a basket full of ice cream bars and cones, while her friend, also black with long braids, carried a small cooler of drinks.

"And your chain." The other girl added.

"Thank you." Honor smiled, inwardly wondering what she would have thought if she knew what wearing the chain meant. "I love your hair."

She wore the sunglasses as she stepped out of the supermarket and made her way back to Villa 6 with her shopping. The pathways had become busier, and women, mostly in minimal coverage swimwear, or simply states of undress, including one that was entirely nude but for her sunglasses and slippers walked past her, some nodding, others making a show of entirely ignoring her.

No man ignored her though, she noted behind her shades.

She smiled and politely fended off two offers to help her carry the basket, one by a man she recognized as a famous athlete. Both men politely accepted her refusal with good grace, and even more politely attempted to hide their bodies' obvious reactions to her. Other men openly roamed their eyes over her body but made no attempt to approach, respecting the black bead bracelet on her wrist.

Respecting the beads was another ferociously enforced rule of the island resort; anyone wearing a black bracelet was not 'available', and men - and it was almost always men - who disobeyed and persisted in their pursuit were unceremoniously ejected and banned from returning.

The nude woman had worn her beads, as had the two women in the supermarket.

As she turned into the walkway of Villa 6, she saw the famous athlete talking to a pretty young woman in a bikini, wearing no bracelet ... and no top. From her bright smile and animated responses, it was clear she recognized him, and was more than happy to be approached.

She could tell that he wasn't in as soon as she entered and went to drop the basket on the counter. She found herself pouting slightly at his absence, realizing that she had been anticipating being welcomed back. He had kissed her lightly on the lips before she left, and halfway to the supermarket, she had realized that he had not done his silly routine of kissing her nipples. Ridiculously, the oversight bothered her.

Sniffing at her own silliness, she undid the sarong and untied the slingshot from her body, going to the bathroom to pee and finally clean up the liquid mess he had left between her legs. Naked except for her chain, she entered the kitchen and wore the hanging chef's apron, tying it behind her, aware that her entire back was uncovered.

Nudity was simply a part of her life now. She was his odalisque.

Then she had knotted her hair up and got to work, easily falling into the rhythm of the kitchen.

When he came in at last, it was close to an hour later, she was near done with only one item left, in the oven.

"That smells incredible, Miss Banet," he said, looking over to her from the living area.

"Thank you, Mr. Haydn."

She went to him for her kiss. And then she leaned back and brought down the apron's neckstrap over her head, uncovering her breasts. She shimmied, shaking them. "You forgot," she said, seriously, pouting again. "This morning."

He laughed, and bent to rectify his faux pas, sucking hard on each encircled and accusingly pointing tip. She responded with a sharp intake of breath each time, and so he repeated the routine, laving his tongue over them as they swelled and pointed even more rudely at him.

She felt him rapidly hardening against her belly when he returned to her lips, melding herself against him as warmth pervaded her abdomen and spread lower. When she pulled back again, her hands went to the elastic waistband of his pants, and she abruptly sank to her knees, taking them down with her.

She took him into her mouth, and he was very swiftly at full mast, gasping as she bobbed her head back and forth on his cock.

A loud beeping suddenly sounded, interrupting her impromptu blowjob as she let him out of her mouth and sprang to her feet.

"Sorry!" she sang out as she ran to the stove to turn off the oven, quickly donning oven mitts and removing the baking pan from inside, placing it in the stovetop.

She may have lost all sense of shame and modesty, but no version of Honor Banet would allow food to burn.

Normally, sensible, disciplined Honor Banet would have taken a fork and spent the next minute probing for any imperfections, even when she instinctively knew they were none. However, she had just been orally pleasuring a man to a full erection, and he was now being treated to the sight of her in just a half-worn apron, breasts uncovered, and her bum and visibly wet vagina exposed as she worked.

She knew what was going to happen when he entered the kitchen after her, pants left behind, and she collapsed weakly against him as he cupped her boobs from behind, his naked member pressing against the small of her back as he lavished kisses on her neck. The oven mitts were still on her hands as he swung her away to the counter. She turned her head and their lips met, tongues meeting hungrily as he fondled her breasts, grasping and possessive. She spasmed as one hand went between her legs, opening, exploring, his fingers immediately covered in her liquid.

He masturbated her with near expert precision, holding her up as she came, shaking and hyperventilating in his arms. She turned her head again, seeking his lips again, grunting as his hands roughly abraded her nipples.

He broke the kiss, bending her forward, making her grasp the counter in front of her with the oven mitts, mouth opening again as his member pushed at her entrance, the head of his cock parting her nether-lips. But she was in no mood to be teased and she thrusted back, sharply sheathing him inside her, making herself squeal at his sudden presence in her body.

She suddenly felt a sense of near detachment from her body, as if watching from outside of herself as Marq thrusted in and out of her pussy.

She'd had sex in a kitchen before, with David, both of them overcome with need that morning before leaving for work, and her mind almost clinically compared the two men. With David, it had been rough and quick, clothes shifted and moved aside until he was abruptly inside her, fucking her until he came. And she had loved every second of it.

With Marq, it was just as desperate, just as urgent, but he still took his time ... because, she realized, for him it was about being inside her. She remembered being made to converse with Sarah, with him inside her on the yacht sailing back to Bangkok, sitting impaled on him for the ride back from the conference centre after he had just exposed her breasts before a crowd that included her fiancee.

The realization sent a surge of joy through her, a smile blossoming on her lips, surrendering herself to his use of her. She arched, hissing, brought back fully to herself as Marq reached between her legs again, teeth gritted as he inerrantly found her clit, stroking, pressing, listening to her gasps and moaning as he moved his fingers, stilling his thrusting into her pussy until he'd wrung another orgasm, and another gush of liquid out of her.

She threw her arms around his neck when he slid out of her and turned her around, feeling his hardness against her belly as she pressed herself against him. She realized she was still wearing the oven mitts and the apron was still tied around her waist. He was still wearing his T-shirt.

She shook off the mitts and helped him pull the shirt off, ravenously kissing him all over his chest, licking at his neck and jawline as he ran his hands over her body, again as if for the first time. Taking off the apron was postponed as he lifted her onto the counter, forcing her to rest on her elbows as he spread and held her legs open, his head going between them, his mouth hungrily meeting the slimy folds of her pussy, his tongue lapping at her entrance.

Her mind flashed to David, his emptying himself inside her in her kitchen, comparing again.

There was no comparison, really. That was the past ... and Marq was very much the present.

She was still wearing the apron when Marq entered her again, her hands cupping his face, their lips meeting as he bent over her on the counter, making her squeal as he stroked into her pussy, knowing he was not going to be done with her for a while.

For the first time, Honor didn't care if her perfectly baked cherry clafoutis - deliberately made with his favorite fruit - was going to end up being eaten cold.

________________________

Honor opened her mouth in a silent scream, shuddering, spasming, unable to get away as Marq removed his questing fingers and buried his head between her spread legs. She threw her head back again, gasping as he lapped at her pussy, cruelly exploiting her helplessness, uncaring of her whimpering as she shook and grasped at the straps going up from her wrists.

The swing had her at a 45 degree angle, her arms held up with her elbows bent and apart by the straps around her wrists. The loops around her thighs did the same for her legs. An ergonomically artful web of leather straps cradled her back and shoulders.

She was suspended off the ground, naked in just her odalisque's chain, her opening exposed, and completely, utterly, vulnerable.

He ignored her whimpering, taking his time, like she knew he would.

She went weak, collapsing back on the swing when he began the familiar delirium inducing tour of his mouth and tongue up from one set of lips to the other. He stopped at the surprisingly sensitive swell of her belly before detouring to her breasts and her achingly swollen and rudely pointing nipples. He used his teeth there, cruelly taking his time again, listening to her squeals as he lightly bit her and pulled on her chains, her arms flexing and pulling as if to move him away but trapped and unable to.

Then he left her breasts, running his tongue up the sensitive valley of skin between them, licking and kissing up her throat before reaching her lips.

He teased her, running his tongue around her lips, evading her desperate, open-mouthed attempts to connect. She was growling in frustration when he finally allowed their lips to meet. Her breath caught as his hardness nosed at her entrance, the swing setting her at just the right height. His rough breathing told her of his need, and she flexed her hips in invitation as he touched her again.

"Please ..." she breathed.

She let out a moan of pure feminine pleasure when he relented, inserting, grasping her waist as her vaginal walls parted for him like they had done so many times before, their lips meeting again, her moan silenced.

He broke the kiss, standing fully, remaining still inside her, running his hands over her body, fondling, caressing, taking full advantage of the angle, of her vulnerability.

"I hate you," she said, glaring at him, knowing nothing she said would make a difference. He was still going to tease her, even with his hardness fully and wonderfully inside her pussy, even as she arched her body toward him.

He laughed, pulling on the chains grasping her nipples, making her quiver and gasp at the rush of sensation.

She was being unfair, and they both knew it. She was every bit as responsible for her predicament as he was; her opening being at just the right height for his member had been no accident.

"What's in the box?" she had asked, still nude as they were eating the lunch she had made. The clafoutis still retained some heat, she had been gratified to see.

"You'll see," he had promised.

As it turned out, there was a larger plain box by the entrance, and he had worn his pants to bring it into the living area. When he opened it, her mouth had fallen open too, and she had shaken her head at him ... but she still helped him assemble it.

And then she had spent hours playing and 'experimenting' with him on the swing once it was done, together discovering the ideal 'settings' for as many positions the device offered as possible, wet, excited and willing as he lifted, arranged and strapped her into one position then the next.

Invariably, he would stick his cock inside her, followed by rounds of 'testing', her gasps and moans accompanying his stroking in and out of her body. All too soon, he would exit and reposition her, with her own very anxious and active participation, and then he'll find his way inside her again for another 'test'.

They made it to four positions the first time before his control broke, grasping her breasts from behind and unloading his semen into her pussy as she squealed and he growled out her name. The second time he only lasted for three, and only because she had been on top and in control, and by that time she'd had no intention of stopping.

She had loved every nasty, debauched moment, practically leaking out of herself every time before he lost control, reveling in the sheer wickedness of allowing herself to be bound, explored and used, fully embracing the overwhelming swelling of joy and pride that surged through her as her body made him come.

Later that evening, she had eagerly followed him out to the patio when she had seen the swing, moved from the living area while she had slept, recovering from the afternoon's activities.

That she was nude but for her chain did not cross her mind as she went outside under the night sky, skin goosepimpling in the ocean wind. She had been naked all day anyway.

She had gasped as he abruptly picked her up and laid her on the swing, not resisting as he slid the loops up to her thighs, instinctively grasping at the twin straps rising up under her arms to suspend her body off the ground. She had said nothing when he had clasped the straps around her wrists, something new.

She was near hyperventilating, apprehensive, but she still said nothing when he was done, only watching him as he took in her body again, spread open and vulnerable, her nipples pointing at him, the folds of her pussy open and gleaming wetly with her arousal. He leaned forward and kissed her again, hard, demanding, and she had responded, kissing him back.

He broke the kiss, and she found him staring into her eyes as they fluttered open. Her apprehension fled, and she had smiled at him; she was his odalisque, her body for him to use anywhere and anytime he wanted. She felt his hardness at her entrance, but she kept her eyes locked on his, letting out a sharp intake of breath as he entered her, her vaginal walls parting for him as they had done so many times before.

"You're so utterly beautiful, Honor Banet," he said, cupping her breasts, pulling on the chains, teasing her nipples as she arched them up to him. Absurdly, she felt herself blush, heat rising to her face in embarrassment despite his presence inside her. Then he bent and took her lips again, making her gasp against his mouth as he began to move inside her.

She had watched him, smiling at him as he stroked in and out of her pussy, relaxing into the simple uncomplicated pleasure of a man so thoroughly enjoying her body. He stopped to caress and fondle her belly and breasts, to kiss her and stroke his fingers over her clit, making her writhe and undulate under him. And when he finally sped up as he reached his climax, she had moved with him, flexing her hips, meeting his thrusts.

He came on her stomach, the pride and joy at the pleasure her body gave him coming to the fore again as his semen landed and spread on her skin, some pooling in her navel.

He had kissed her for a while afterwards, and then he had gone into the villa, and come out with a familiar washbowl, soap dish and razor. He used the swing's setting pulleys and gears to sit her up and lower her until her feet were just above the patio's tiles. He set his equipment on one of the two patio stool chairs and placed the other in front of her, the swollen folds of her just used pussy wet and open in front of him.

He'd kissed her again, between her legs, licking her, making her keen as his fingers entered her, coming out wet as she quivered helplessly in the swing. And then she had watched him between her spread legs as he lathered and shaved her pussy again, the sight of his cum on her belly adding to the sheer carnality and pure wickedness of it, her breathing and the crash of waves the only sounds breaking the silence.

He left a small landing strip this time, an extended triangle pointing like an arrow to her opening. He'd wiped her belly too as he cleaned her up. And then he had set everything aside, reset the swing, lifting her up to a height they had discovered earlier and then proceeding to masturbate her newly shaven pussy. His mouth had followed his fingers, and then it was his cock inside her again.

Now she pouted because he was teasing her and she wanted him to fuck her again, but instead he leaned forward to kiss her, allowing her to hungrily lave her tongue over his lips, and then he straightened up again, smiling evilly as he plucked something from a fold in one of the straps holding her legs.

The boxes had contained a lot more than the swing. And she was about to be subjected to another 'experiment.'

Her eyes spread wide as he switched it on, the humming noise joining the sounds of her harsh breathing. Along with her trapped arms, this was also something new. She watched him bring the small round headed device down over her pubic mound, to where he was joined with her, mouth open, her body quivering.

Her eyes rolled back in her head when the vibrator touched her, just above where his member disappeared into her depths.

"Oh my @#$&!"

He kept the vibrating head on her pussy, following her as her hips bucked and rolled uncontrollably, inadvertently making him move inside her, adding to her torment. A keening sound came from her throat, growing louder, becoming a shriek as he brought her to the brink and took her over.

She came, her entire body shaking as a gush erupted from her pussy, her liquid splashing down on Marq's bare feet as he exited to allow it out. Then he had entered her again, eliciting another sharp cry of delight.

He leaned forward and kissed her again, hard, silencing her, caressing her belly and fondling her breasts.

"One," he said to her.

Her whimpers became a scream as she came again. This time, he didn't move the humming head from its position. He didn't move his cock either.

"Two."

His gaze was avid and intense as he made her scream some more, more liquid flooding out to wet the tiles beneath where they were joined. His body shook, his breathing increasingly harsh as the woman before him whimpered and sobbed, hips undulating like a belly dancer, both moving away and following the vibrating head, moving him inside her at the same time.

"Five."

Then he abruptly dropped the device to the ground and fucked her, hard, fast and desperate, all control lost, every stroke and thrust drawing a sharp intake of breath out of her.

He let out a guttural cry when he released, collapsing, the swing flexing and supporting them both as he shuddered and spasmed on top of her shuddering body. She shook with him, nuzzling his neck as he unloaded his cum inside her until he was spent.

He sought her lips after a long, wordless while, still inside her. Her heart was still pounding in her chest and she was still hyperventilating, but she still smiled at him when their lips parted.

"Six," she said.