I was standing there tied to a tree, my feet tied to a root and my hands cuffed behind the trunk. Violet, whose fault it was as usual, had been kind enough to wrap a blanket around the trunk so I didn't get scratched up on the bark as her friend rode me. Though that blanket had slipped down to my ankles. Also Violet hadn't left anything to protect me from getting scratched by her friend's nails.
I sighed. "I am really too old for this," I said out loud.
My erection stuck out in front of me, aching. Lily had brought me right to the verge of orgasm, twice, and then walked off. I would have given many things to have a hand free to jerk off. Many, many things.
I was stuck there for God knows how long-not like I had a phone or a wristwatch, or hands with which to check them-when I heard voices coming up the road. They were giggling, as if they were blissfully unaware of the danger of getting this close to the preppers.
"What's that?" someone cried, and I heard several sets of feet running toward me.
There were two blonde girls, somewhere around eighteen, I figured. They wore white sundresses and little white bonnets. When they saw me their eyes widened. "OMG," said one. I'm not abbreviating anything there-she actually said those three letters out loud. The second one snorted with laughter, and pulled out her phone.
Then the rest of the group caught up. There were about a dozen of them in total, all in matching outfits. They giggled and gaggled, and all of them had their phones out.
"Quit gawking and help me get free," I grumbled.
One of the girls took a step towards me.
"Dare you to touch his weiner," said another girl. The first one jumped back, and the group dissolved into giggles.
"You touch it!"
"OMG I am so not touching that. Ew."
One of them was edging toward me, looking back at her friends to see if they saw how brave she was. A second one pushed a third in my direction. "Dare you to lick it."
Her victim squealed so loud it hurt my ears. "OhmygodyouaresuchabitchStephanie!"
"Samantha!" came a voice. "Language!" An older woman jogged up, her face red from exertion. Evidently the girls had outpaced her. She was wearing an ankle-length white dress and a mitre. There was a large cross stitched to the front of her dress. A bit of hair had escaped from under her mitre, a few strands blonde, a few grey. "Sarah!" The girl who'd been sneaking closer to me slipped back into the crowd. "Do not touch him!"
"What are you?" I said. "A bishop?"
This triggered another round of giggling. The woman in the mitre gave me a look of reproach. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. We're visiting from the mainland." And she pulled out a phone and peered at it. "Sally, how do I get to the camera again?"
While she was fiddling with her phone, one of the girls dashed over to me. She pretended to put an arm around me as her friend took pictures.
"Honestly," I groaned. "Help me get out of here."
The bishop looked up. "Oh, no, we can't do that. We can't interfere with islanders in their natural habitat."
"This tree is not my natural habitat."
"We're only here to observe your cultural traditions."
"Being tied to a tree isn't my cultural tradition either!"
Two of the girls were crouched down and edging forward, their phones held out in front of them. They were trying to get closeups of my dick.
"Pawns, don't touch him," said the bishop. "You don't know where he's been."
"I can tell you where I've been. Tied to a damn tree. Come on, please, help me out."
The bishop did a headcount of her charges. She sighed. "Where's Sir Toby?"
"He was coming up the path with us," said one of the girls, "and all of a sudden he just veered off into the woods."
"Not again," the bishop muttered. "At this rate, we won't get to the world's largest condom before they stop serving lunch. Come along, dears." She herded the girls onto the road. As she passed me, she sneered and hissed, "Where we come from, priapism is considered a medical condition and not a lifestyle choice."
"You're damn right it's not a lifestyle choice!" I shouted back. "You think I want to walk around with a boner all the time? Now help me out of these handcuffs!"
There were giggles from the pawns. I overheard someone say, "Islanders are so crazy," and another gasp and say, "OMG that is so racist."
#
Ethel and Edward dragged a struggling naked Trudy through the woods to a pond. There was a narrow dock that extended out into the pond. Usually there were paddleboats tied up there. Today two boys dressed in black were standing on the edge, watching a girl flounder around in the water. A line of naked people, their hands and feet tied up, were huddled up on the shore, preppers in black guarding over them.
"What is this?" Trudy demanded.
"We're going to throw you in the water," said Edward. "Spadists float. So if you don't drown, you're a Spadist."
"I'll have you know I can swim," said Trudy.
"Pretty much everyone can. So we tie them up first. It's more sporting that way. Ethel, go see what the holdup is."
Ethel-who was dressed like a black cat, in tight shorts and little ears-went up to the dock. "What the fuck, guys? This isn't Disney World. Why are we waiting in line?"
The two boys on the dock were trying to fish the girl out of the water. "We're can't throw them in any faster, you know."
"It'll go twice as fast if you do two at a time."
The boys looked at each other, and one shrugged. "Sounds fine, whatever."
They pulled the girl out of the water and tossed her on the dock. She was panting and wheezing. "This one's definitely a Spadist. Put her in the woods."
"Aren't we going to do something better with them than that?"
"Yeah, of course," said Ethel. "Once Violet comes back and says what."
Two more preppers were busy uncuffing one poor girl. She whimpered a little, trying to cover up her naked body, but they forced her hands away from her breasts and mashed her up face to face against the red-faced boy behind her. They cuffed her hands behind his back, and their ankles together.
Trudy quickly counted the number of victims. Yes, they'd be tying her to the one right in front of her-that blond boy, with the penis he had no reason to be ashamed of, even without accounting for shrinkage. He was a skinny one, but he had a nice ass.
"I am outraged by this," she said loudly, "absolutely outraged." And she did her best not to smile.
#
I was staring up into the leaves of the tree, having gotten bored of staring at the ground, mostly because my own engorged dick was in the way, when a voice went, "Well, well."
The genie was standing there in the sort of pose celebrities make for photographers on their way to the Oscars: one leg straight, and one bent a bit so that the slit in her skirt reached up above her thigh to expose a swath of pelvis. Her green eyes glittered at me, the rest of her face hidden behind her veil.
"Oh, no. Not you again," my mouth said, because my brain told it to. My erection told my brain to stay out of it and nudged up an inch.
The genie's eyes smiled. "Having some trouble?"
"Uh, yeah. Kind of am."
"I bet you have a wish right now," said the genie.
"I wish to not be handcuffed to this tree?" I said, trying not to sound offensively snarky, and failing.
"Mm." The genie raised both hands to her hair and started to tie it back. That is one of the sexiest poses a nearly-naked woman can take, with her breasts raised up and thrust out. My erection was about ready to tear free of my body and hop over and nestle in between those beautiful breasts.
"No," she said, "I don't think that's it." She slunk over to the table and sat down on it. Her dress-not so accurately a dress, since it was basically a groin-width strip of material hanging down from her waist-fell open, and there was her pussy, pink and luscious and delightful. "I think your wish is to lick this, isn't it?"
"Yes," I said softly, because Penis, figuratively speaking, dashed up to Mouth as fast as he could and said, Oh, Brain totally says Yes, believe me. And then Brain, stuck in line waiting as Penis fast-talked Mouth, appraised the situation and noticed that for my tongue to reach the genie's gorgeous lips I would have to be uncuffed from the tree. "Yes," I said louder, on Brain's command. And then Nose sniffily informed the rest of me that if it didn't get to find out what the genie smelled like up close, it was going to keep the rest of me up all night thinking about it. Penis added that it would accompany Nose's musings with uncomfortable erections, maybe even drip precum on my sheets. Penis really knows how to play hardball. He can be such a dick sometimes.
