Author's note:
This BDSM story includes elements of pain and bruising. All characters are over the age of eighteen.
Please note that this is a work of fiction. BDSM relationships aren't to be entered into lightly. In the interest of narrative momentum this story smooths over some of the care that should be taken when entering such a relationship.
---------
Brooke watched him emerge from the limousine like a tiger from its lair.
The Sun Point Resort's website had suggested a glamorous and attractive clientele. Photos of the pool had showcased young, lithe bodies draped across loungers or grinning in the sun. The veranda bar and the upscale Italian and Japanese restaurants featured affluent older couples in smart attire. The staff looked cheerful, sharply dressed, and smiling.
The reality, especially at check-in time, was somewhat less elegant. Brooke pressed herself back against the wall to dodge a harried-looking bellhop pushing an Everest of luggage. Behind trailed a pair of pale tourists, their heavy clothing a poor match for the Caribbean sun. Younger travelers in line craned their necks toward the back of the lobby, hoping for a glimpse of the beach.
The new arrival, in contrast, seemed already at home, relaxed, and confident. When a bellhop stepped forward the man slipped something into his hand. The ebony-skinned young man grinned expansively before rushing to collect luggage from the clamshell of the limousine's trunk.
The man was handsomely dressed in a linen suit, black shirt, and gleaming shoes. A glittering watch hung lazily at his wrist, announcing both wealth and disinterest in digital clutter. Dark glasses reached past graying temples. Imposingly tall, he nonetheless seemed comfortable in his body, neither stooping nor awkward. He bent to offer a hand to his companion.
Brooke had been distracted by the man, but now she became transfixed by the young woman he helped from the limo. If the man had reminded her of a predator, the woman's exit from the vehicle called to mind a flower blooming. First a delicate arm, then a headful of gleaming black locks, then a bare knee emerged. Though the young woman -Brooke would later learn their names were Paige and Daniel- kept her eyes lowered, she owned her space every bit as much as her man.
The perks of wealth continued to unfold. Daniel handed the bellhop something from his wallet. The bellhop dashed behind the reception counter, and, ignoring dirty looks from one of the receptionists, jabbed his finger at an unoccupied computer. Less than a minute later he returned with a room key. With the other guests still in line, the bellhop whisked Daniel and Brooke toward the elevators.
"This place is fucking fanTASTic!"
"What? Oh, yeah." Brooke tore her attention from the new couple. Her friend Kath had returned, two room keys in hand. "Did you get them to switch rooms?"
"Yes!" Kath said. Her eyes were lit with excitement. "They got us the right room this time. Really cool about it. We have a pool view. I love this place!"
Kath led Brooke toward the elevators, bags in tow. The bellhop, Kath insisted, would expect tips just for carrying their bags; that would be money better spent on drinks. The two continued their conversation, Kath gushing about the resort, and elbowing Brooke to point out groups of cute guys, several of which returned her flirtatious glances.
Brooke, however, felt uncharacteristically quiet. One image stuck in her mind, something both tantalizing and disturbing. When the couple passed her earlier, Brooke had enjoyed a close-up view of them. A narrow but tight band of metal gave insight into their relationship.
Paige was collared.
***
"There is no late or early," Kath explained to Brooke. "We're on beach time. We eat when we want, drink when we want, swim when we want..."
"But not get poolside loungers," Brooke observed. "Looks like they're all taken."
Day one, the friends had agreed, would start with a lazy morning poolside. But by the time they woke, ate breakfast, and changed into their bikinis, it was past ten. The pool was already swarming with like-minded guests.
"What about those?" Kath wove between the unoccupied loungers farthest from the pool toward a vacant pair taking up a prime spot at the front.
Brooke pointed out an elegantly printed sign resting on each of the chairs. "They're reserved."
"Well poop," Kath grumbled. The blonde shot another glance around the pool deck before dropping her bag onto one of the loungers just behind the reserved ones. "It's fine. We don't have to be
right
at the edge of the pool. This way more guys will get to check us out when we go for a dip."
Guys would certainly check Kath out. Her friend never lacked male attention, and at the resort, where she could spend most of the day in a bikini, Kath would have more than usual. Brooke watched with a tinge of envy as Kath went to dip a foot in the pool. "It's heavvvenly!" she called back.
The pair settled into a blissful morning. Both took turns in the pool, read, played with their phones, and commented on the other guests. Just when they began to discuss the first umbrella drink of the day, they discovered who had reserved the loungers in front of them.
Daniel strode across the pool deck with the same presence that Brooke had admired the previous day. Even wearing board shorts and an unbuttoned floral shirt, he exuded a relaxed self-confidence. He was unusually fit for a man over fifty. His hair was graying, but his body looked like it should belong to a younger man.
But like the day before, Paige was equally compelling. She wore a gauzy wrap which did little to hide her bikini or the curves of her body. She was taller than Brooke, probably five-foot-seven, and with the legs to match. The men that had been admiring Kath and Brooke raised their eyes to gawk. Brooke guessed that she was around thirty years old.
"Thaaat's an interesting fashion statement," Kath whispered, pointing discreetly toward the collar. "You sure this isn't some secret bondage resort?"
"No, that one was booked," Brooke joked.
As the couple took the spot just in front of Brooke, she began to get a feel for their relationship. Daniel was extremely protective and solicitous of Paige, adjusting the sunshade, ordering her lunch, and seeing to her comfort. When Paige came back from a swim Daniel met her with a fresh towel. If the collar signified some sort of dominant/submissive dynamic, Daniel certainly wasn't behaving in the way that Brooke had associated with a BDSM relationship. Just after lunch that she picked up another clue.
"What are you doing?" Daniel asked. After returning from a swim, Paige leaned back to welcome the early afternoon sun. She appeared content but tugged several times at the delicate collar.
"It's okay," Paige responded.
"What are you doing?" Daniel repeated, this time with a harder edge to his voice.
"Trying to get an even tan."
"It's too tight for that. Do you want me to remove it?"
"No!" Paige said quickly. Her hand flew to her neck.
Daniel persisted. "I can. Like we talked about before the trip."
"It's okay?" Paige gave him a searching stare.
"For the pool and beach only. And you know what else I have to do."
Paige nodded. For a long moment she weighed the decision before giving a soft reply. "Yes."
"Okay," Daniel said. "After dinner tonight." He sat up, draping his legs over the side of the lounger to face Paige. Brooke caught a glimpse of the man's well-defined calves and quads. Did he run? Bike?
Paige, too, sat up, turning away from Daniel. While she pulled her hair out of the way her man located the clasp at the back of the collar. With care, Daniel loosened the clasp and pulled the collar away. Paige sucked in a breath but let him pocket the now limp collar. A ring of pale flesh marked where the metal had lain against her skin.
She must rarely take it off
