First Tuesday
Sam studied herself once more in the mirror. Captain Ron had decreed that she shouldn't traipse through the guest spaces in her overalls. Glamour and etiquette; heels, bikini, hair, and makeup. A presentation at his cabin door that would fire him up quickly, something that would shorten the foreplay.
She hoped the sensuous details reflected in the mirror met the skipper's expectations. She saw a tight camel toe in red bikini bottoms, tits overflowing the Wonderbra top, makeup, hair, gold hoop earrings, a thin gold chain at waist with a small red bauble dangling towards her pussy and the ubiquitously mandated red high heels. She daubed her cleavage, neck, and bellybutton with a flowery but subtly musky perfume, hoping it would please his olfactory senses and elevate his arousal. As ready as she thought she could be, she departed for her rendezvous with the ship's commander.
Sam sashayed through ship spaces, noting how the wandering alpha male guests and distracted shore crew ogled her revealed beauty. She slipped a sly smile of smugness, imaging that they barely recognized her without her greasy overalls and do-rag bandana.
Arriving at Captain Ron's cabin door, she drew a deep breath to settle the tickling tummy butterflies, exhaled her nervousness, and knocked.
"Permission to Enter?" she tentatively requested.
Captain Ron called from within, "Permission granted".
She opened the portal slowly, peeking only her dark-haired head into the Commander's spacious cabin. It was well equipped with a big bed and other furnishings, suitable for the commander's private space. Captain Ron sat waiting at room center wearing only a towel waist wrap, otherwise barefoot and bare-chested. She saw again that he was a physically fit man, toned muscles, and spare body hair. A thin gold chain hung around his neck with what looked like a jewelry box key. She knew that key's purpose but held her sentiments in check.
Captain Ron lazily motioned her forward. She stepped fully inside, a cautious pause to let her man take in her presentation. Her boobs jiggled as she twisted to close and lock the door. She resumed her bikini model stance.
Sam red bikini was the same color as the sexy dress she had worn on the previous Friday's shipboard auction. That dress had exposed lots of her body and had garnered the high bid she deserved and the feverish night of ecstasy she had earned. Captain Ron now saw much more of the woman's beauty and a small lump of lust caught in his throat, holding him speechless. He quietly motioned her closer.
She did a quarter turn on her heels and stood tall in profile. Her legs were towers of beauty, supporting her body with its proportional balance of curvy ass and tits. Her face showed little emotion, despite the return of the tummy butterflies.
She turned her head half towards him and a hand brushed back her hair to expose her left face and neck, the mutually recognizable signal of her budding sexual arousal for the Commander that was rapaciously looking her over.
His finger motioned a spin move and she lifted her arms outward as she pirouetted away slowly on the toes of her heels, toned muscles flexing beneath the smooth skin of her legs. The thong rear strap was buried between her ass cheeks and fully exposed her smooth half globes that were a transitory vision to behold as they rotated across his vision. After providing him a full panorama of her hourglass stature, she lowered her arms and returned to a neutral stance.
He stood, moving closer to her, a head above her height even in her heels. He strode a slow circle around her, examining her in detail.
Captain Ron mused: toned ass and legs, nice slim waist, long wavy hair that obscured much of her shoulders and upper back but still exposed her smooth skin over a muscularity stemming from her manual duties. He fathomed that she would be a lively and energetic mate in his fervent embrace.
He knelt down and inspected the high heels. He liked the ruby red color, decorated with little rows of sequins centered on the leather straps, and coordinated with the red color of her toenail polish. He recognized the footwear's special sturdy manufacture adored by TWA students and associates. The ankle buckle was a gold push snap with a hidden key lock. He clutched her foot and, using the key on his neck chain, locked the mechanisms on each shoe. He removed his chain suspended key and tossed it away to a far corner of the room. He might need it later but its function was finished for now.
Sam looked down when he touched her ankle and watched him lock the heels on her feet. She was accustomed to this macho preparation task. At TWA, many of the visiting Pledge Contributors played this game. The more gentlemanly assertion was that the ankle bondage added a touch of female vulnerability, subverting any resistance to the alpha male's dominion during sex. A cruder version she had heard often enough was that they 'found a bitch trussed in her high heels easier to rein in during a frenzied fuck.' Sam wondered which attitude Captain Ron was going to exhibit. But she really didn't as long as it was a true 'frenzied fuck'.
Standing again behind her, he pulled her wrists around and crooked her thumbs together. He ripped the Velcro bands on his waist wrap, dropping it to the floor. He laid his tumescent cock on her cupped fingers.
"Hold me."
Her cupped palms supported his shaft, her cupped fingertips held his scrotum. He commenced her disrobing while his manhood rested on her warm soft hands. He clicked open her bikini top back clasp. The strained straps snapped apart but the sidebands were pinned between her rearward curled biceps and ribcage, holding the tit covers mostly in place. Even still, her boobs were relieved of the cleavage squeezing support and drooped to resume a more natural shape inside the loosened cups.
Reaching around, he gripped the band between her breasts and pulled downward; the cups slid off and he got his first view across her shoulder of her exposed nipples, the broad disks, and stiff nubs boldly colored with makeup. He dropped the fistful of bikini top on the floor and hefted both her wonderful boobs in his hands, more than a handful each, soft, warm and pliable in his kneading grip.
He pulled her in, bracing her back to his chest. Sam flexed her back, pressing her boobs forward into his hands, her gaze finding his eyes looking back at her in the wall mirror. His fingers gripped harder and her eyes squinted at his manly grasp, welcoming his tacit prerogative as her boss and the man who would soon be banging her body to ecstasy.
"Caress my cock, Sam."
She adjusted one hand to circle the base of the shaft with thumb and index, still cupping his ball sack with the remaining fingers on that hand. Her other thumb and index formed a ring and she slid her velvety digits back and forth on his growing erection.
