Mrs. Rush reviewed the TWR Final Request Voucher. It looked to be in order: the Pledge Contributor's Requested Scenario, TWA Security's Clearances for Scenario Participants, Electronic Funds Transfer Authorization and the Confirmed Venue Schedule.
All Total Woman Academy Pledge Contributors (PC's) had discretionary use of the Total Woman Academy Graduate Network. TWA graduates donated their time and talents to events that contributed their earnings to the TWA Alumni Fund. The graduates volunteered for assignments at exclusive TWA Health Clinics and Resorts. Total Woman Requests offered the graduates additional volunteer assignments in unusual places and settings. All assignments offered abundant opportunities for graduates to refine their unique talents.
This Pledge Contributor was a semi-pro rugby player who was incessantly bombarded with his team mates about their sexual adventures, all of which were unbearable braggadocio from a bunch of pussy-whipped married homebodies. The PC decided to stage a "put up or shut up" weekend to expose his mates to their big talk/small walk.
Mrs. Rush scrawled her approval on the Voucher form and handed it to her secretary. The fantasy was underway.....
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Bevin stood resigned facing forward before the scarab's center radio masthead as Pedro tightened the restraints on her pulled back wrists. The boat rolled gently in the ocean swells. She was being prepared for delivery to the yacht just visible on the horizon. Pedro gave one last tug to check her firm connection to the boat. It would be unfortunate if she was lost overboard during the upcoming bounding high speed run. He moved around her and flipped her long dark curls behind her back. They would flap like streamers in the wind, adding to the visual allure of the 'gift'.
Contemplating the salt spray which would shower the foredeck, Pedro removed his own sunglasses and placed them on Bevin's face to protect her eyes. Safety first!
Satisfied that his cargo was secure, Pedro leaned in and stole a kiss from the irresistible restrained Bevin. His hand cupped and kneaded one bikini-straining breast. Bevin sucked his tongue as he lingered in the fondling lip-lock. He released her mouth with a wicked smirk.
Pedro loved his job. It was jam-packed with risky feats of daring, big powerful man-toys like this scarab, advanced surveillance and counter-surveillance technology and abundant money in undisclosed bank accounts. And 'perks'; the perks would have enough alone but were simply icing on the cake.
Pedro leered at the feminine parcel in his custody. One more detail to go. Pedro gripped the intracup-strap of Bevin's tit-stressed bikini top and ripped it off. Her bounteous breasts popped up and settled with a liquidly undulating jiggle. Yeah, the 'perks' were the deal-closer.
With one final inspection round the package ending with a sassy butt slap and nipple tweak, Pedro went below to start the delivery run.
The scarab engine's roared to life and the boat hurled forward into the sea swells. It clambered to cruising speed, steeple chasing from one wave cress to the next. The deck leapt in a rolling rhythm that kept Bevin's round chest orbs bouncing, nigh flapping, and matching the sea swells' cadence.
On the yacht, three men sipped drinks on the aft deck, lounging around the onboard wading pool, swapping risqué boasts. Three heads turned to the high pitched keen of the scarab's inboard engines and followed the progress of the approaching speed boat. As it neared, the scarab veered off and made wide circles, spiraling inward with several revolutions around the craft, plowing a yacht rocking wake and displaying the near naked trophy mounted on its deck. It slowed and came about to maneuver alongside. Once tied off, the scarab captain strode to the foredeck, released Bevin's from the mast, but not from her wrist cuffs, and hoisted the beauty over his shoulder. He boarded the yacht carrying Bevin, her toned ass presented skyward. He walked aft and plopped her with a splash into the yacht's shallow deck pool.
"Your host sends his compliments and his gift. I will stand off until 10 AM tomorrow morning after which I will reclaim the bitch. Enjoy your night."
The yacht's two crew members followed the scarab captain onto his speedboat, which revved away and anchored a mile off the starboard bow.
Bevin sat handcuffed in the pool. Frank, George and Harry ogled her in awe and confusion at what had just happened. Bevin waited while they milled around her, asking each other half-whispered 'what-the-fuck' questions. When their attention returned fully to her, she spoke.
"My name is Bevin; that was Pedro, my drug-dealing boyfriend. I like nice things but he never gives me enough money. He caught me stealing. This is my punishment. You can do whatever you like with me, but please don't actually injure me. Pedro will ask tomorrow if I repeated these instructions exactly. Please tell him what I just said. If he thinks I lied, he will beat me."
Frank and George each took a shoulder and hauled Bevin to her feet. They tried to release the handcuffs but they needed the key. Harry removed Bevin's sunglasses and met her big brown eyes.
"Where's the key?"
Bevin glanced downward and mumbled "It's tucked in my cunt."
Harry burrowed into the front of her thong and found moist warm flesh folds but no key.
"I said 'tucked IN my cunt'"
Harry squatted and skimmed her thong down her supple thighs to provide better access to the warm pink 'key-holder'. He wormed two fingers into her vagina and found the key. He jumped up with a 'whoop', pinching his metal prize. Frank took a grab at it but Harry pulled back.
"Finders-Keepers. It's mine. But before I use it on her cuffs, I want her to work for it. Let's go inside."
George held the rear cabin door open as Harry and Frank duck-walked the thong hobbled Bevin into the yacht's main lounge.
She stood in the middle of the room and each man took a seat in cushioned chairs circling her.
Harry lifted the key. "Last man will release your cuffs. Before that, you will play whatever game the others ask you to."
The men played a few quick rounds of rock-paper-scissors to establish the order of rotation: Frank first, then George, then Harry. They settled in for the show.
Frank sat back and motioned Bevin towards his chair. Bevin hobbled over with her thong still at 'half-mast'.
