Sanya Island Hotel

1. Strolling the market in town in the morning, they looked like a couple from the Chinese Hainan Island travel ads- well- dressed but casual , older, in their 50's, sophisticated travelers enjoying new sights. With no more than 'hello' and 'thank you' in Mandarin Chinese, they wandered the market by the park and the lagoon, looking into street shops and small stores. They chatted and laughed, a little, as they made small purchases from the vendors. The shopping tote he carried filled with small things-perfumed oils, spices, silk braided cords, decorative metal pieces, carved wood and stainless steel kitchen items. At a household goods stall, stacked high with colorful molded plastic containers and bins, they found the plastic wrap and laundry supplies to take home.

The morning haze burned off, and as the sun got warmer they stopped in a café next to the water, where they pointed and smiled to get plates of local food, beef in spicy sauce over rice, served from a large pottery bowl and eaten with chopsticks and smiles. After lunch, they walked around the small park to find a taxi back to the hotel. The bridge across the water was a series of right angle turns, zig zagging to confuse and frustrate evil spirits who might try to follow, they had read.

At the hotel, on the coast in the rich tropical landscape, their villa was a ten minute ride by electric cart from the huge, open air lobby. The attendant bowed, as he opened the door and left them. They had chosen this place, on an island used by Chinese honeymooners, for its unique beauty. The villa they stepped into was really three long rooms, all facing the ocean from high up on the hills. The ceiling was high, arching with exposed wood and high fans, and the wood floor was polished and laid with textured local rugs. On one side, an open bathroom as large as most hotel rooms had a large raised tub and its own full window to the sea; on the other a sitting room was also open and luxuriously but sparely furnished. A wide shaded terrace swept across all three rooms, with a view only of the tropical landscape and the misty sea beyond.

The center of the main room was the bed, larger than king size, the frame of heavy teak posts and light netting as a canopy above, with headboard lamps on steel brackets. Just inside the door, on the tiled entry floor, she took the bags from him and went into the pantry area to the side. He stopped in the entry and paused a moment before making himself ready. His watch, wallet, and passport went into the drawer, and as he removed his clothing he folded it neatly on the bench there. Once he was naked, the light steel chain that he wore under his clothing was visible, looped around his waist, between his legs, and up his back to loop around his neck. He went to his place, at the foot of the bed in the central room, kneeling with his legs carefully apart, facing the terrace.

2. When she came back into the room, she had traded her walking shoes for high heels that tapped on the wooden floor behind him. She walked around him, carrying a glass of chilled white wine, looking and thinking. With his eyes down, he could see only the smooth leather pumps, and the hem of her elegant batik print skirt. He knew she was dressed as before, a designer look for someone with artistic taste and an interest in quality. Her other hand held the leather flogger, with the purple braided handle and the hardened suede leather tails. As she sipped, she held it out to him and he kissed it.

She spoke his name, once, and he responded immediately, with his head down to the floor and his ass up, legs apart, hands stretched out across the floor palms upward. She used the pointed toe of her shoe to make minor corrections in his position, tapping his legs wider and hands further apart on the floor. The first stroke of the leather was across a palm, and for minutes she methodically worked over his arms, his biceps, his shoulders, back and ass, leaving stinging red streaks and dull pain. The flogger slapped the chain into his back and between his legs, a reminder of his status here in this room.

With his body stinging, she hooked a finger into his collar chain and led him, crawling, out onto the terrace in the afternoon sunlight. She smiled as a flick of the leather got him climbing up into the lounge chair. The breeze ruffled her hair as she returned with the plastic wrap from their shopping, humming lightly as she wound it around him to bind him to the lounge chair, arms lifted behind his head. The plastic stretched as she wrapped him, making movement impossible and cutting off the breeze from his skin. Holding his breath, he waited, gasping, until her thumb poked through into his open mouth, allowing him to suck in fresh air. He was seeing the view now through hazy layers of plastic, his body heating and sweating in the sun. Once he was bound and spread, he dimly heard her walk away, unable to see. When she came back, he saw her in sunglasses, carrying a large book and the scissors they had bought together at the market.

She stepped back out of his range of vision, and then he felt the snip of the metal blades, on the plastic at his chest. As he strained to watch, she clipped open the plastic at his nipples, used her fingers to roll and tug them, then added the wooden clothespins to each of them. The pain flashed and then dulled, as he felt their weight. He felt the flat blades again, at the skin below his waist, as she opened the plastic to expose his hard cock and balls as he lay bound. She clipped clothespins to the loose skin, next to the chain he still wore under the wrapping, then stepped back to judge her work.

Time passed slowly, as he heard the scrape of her chair on the terrace, and the clink of her glass, as she read in the afternoon and he sweltered in his wrapping, reduced now to a few points of intense sensation.

3. When she released him later, cutting away the layers of damp plastic, he saw that she had already showered and dressed for dinner. He used the outdoor shower to clean himself, after the rush of pain when she released the clamps from his skin. She held out the leather cuffs to him, and he buckled them around his own wrists, the worn leather and shiny D rings a contrast against his pale skin. She pulled them behind his back, to clip them to his waist chain, and then led him to a corner of the bed, where she used the silken cord to bind him loosely to the heavy timber post. She pulled him forward, for a cool kiss on the lips, and then had him kiss the flogger again before she used it on his still-hard cock, counting the strokes for their anniversary. She left him there, in the shadows with the lights dimmed, and as the sky that he saw through the tall window darkened he heard her welcome the room service staff, setting up dinner in the sitting room, smiling and bustling around her as they set out two places with candles and silver. He saw himself in the glass, a dim reflection in the dark room, naked and chained, while in the other window he saw her quiet elegance, the warmth of the room, and the uniformed waiters smiling and bowing as they left.

She had put music on for dinner, a cool jazz CD with an international flavor, and he could watch her eating and listening, sipping her wine and watching the tropical sunset. He lost track of time, shifting from one foot to another, until he heard the scrape of her chair and the clatter of china. She came to release him, and lead him by his collar to the sitting room, where she had put two of the local pottery bowls they had purchased on a mat on the floor. Into one, she poured the chilled white wine, emptying the bottle with a small splash. Into the other bowl, she scraped the remains of the food, from her plate and the serving dishes, grouper and vegetables and scraps, together. She looked at him, still naked with his hands cuffed, and waited. His face flushed, and he knelt awkwardly, hands behind him and put his face into the food and wine to eat and drink. She used her shoe, again, to correct his position as he fed himself. When he was done, she carefully wiped his face clean and ran her hand through his thinning hair.

4. He climbed onto the bed, when she slapped him sharply, and she worked slowly to position him as she liked, on his knees at the center of the bed, toward the end, with his cuffed hands tied with colorful braided silk cords to the two heavy steel light brackets at the head, and his ankles to the bedposts, facing away from the twilight view. His cock and nipples hardened as he waited there, knowing what to expect next. When she came back into the room she had changed to a creamy slip of a nightgown, flowing over her body and down past her knees, and she carried the long leather crop and the metallic vibrator. She flicked the crop, slapping him hard with its leather tab, across the back of his thighs, his ass, and his shoulders, and he felt his cock swelling.

When she reached around him, standing close, she put the slim vibrator to his lips and he kissed it automatically and gratefully. She slipped it into his exposed ass,, with the cold lubricant, sliding it deep and letting him feel the vibrations rise through him. She was practiced with it, alternating reminders from the crop and changing vibrations to make him feel it through his prostate, building slowly to an orgasm he had no way to resist, without the relief of ejaculation. When he came, finally, it was from being used and penetrated, not from the power of his cock, and she reminded him what he was now, neither male nor female really, just an object she could manipulate and control. He was swept by the intensity of it, nothing at all like the actions he was more used to.

She left him tied, as his cock softened and his body eased, with the vibrator still inserted to remind him how he was used by her now. When she released him, it was with a light touch, not a kiss, and she led him to the mat in the other room where she leashed him to the table for the night, to sleep on the floor. He watched her walk to the bedroom, aching for her touch and her body, which he knew he would not have.