Evora The View

Tags: BDSM, Fsub, Mdom, Bondage, Edging, Whipping, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism

My most vivid memory of the summer of 2018 was the view along the walkway in the Beach's backyard. The path was about 30 meters long, with vertical posts and cross-beams, covered for its whole length with vines and climbing plants that cast a welcome dappled shade. At the end of the path the posts spread out, behind a screen of bushes and low trees, creating a large secluded space with a wooden deck. Standing on the deck the view spreads across the flat dry landscape. Small olive farms and occasional outbuildings are scattered all the way to the mountains in the distance. Honestly, it's not an unusual vista in this part of Portugal, but that path with the light and shade of the overhead plants frame it like something from a movie. I'm sure I'll remember the view all my life.

That particular day I was delivering the last of a long-delayed order to Mr Beach. Charles, to most people, but I still refer to him as Mr Beach, even now. I carried a single banana palm, in a cheap plastic pot. There were three more in my van, but it was at least 27 centigrade already at 11am, and I was a young-ish girl, so it was one at a time that day. I was definitely glad of the thick shade above me as I walked towards the sound of the hose, and what seemed to be digging, at the end of the garden. As I reached the deck though I stopped in my tracks.

Just to my left, maybe 4 meters away, was Jane Beach. She was standing there completely nude, apart from a wide belt. Her arms and legs spread out in a standing X, facing away from me and towards the mountains, with the sun on her face. Her skin was tanned and glistening. Her wrists and ankles secured with rope to the wooden deck and the beams above her.

Now I am totally 100% straight, I really am, but I struggled to drag my eyes away from Jane. The Beach's are both middle-aged - I don't know, but I'd say 50s now. Probably 3 decades older than me. Even so Jane just looked breathtaking - backlit by the sun, slim but with curves, muscles taut, spread wide and exposed, and her tanned skin shimmering with sweat.

I seemed to stop breathing while I stared. I let out an unintentional, muffled "oh" which turned into an "Uggh" and it must have been the embarrassment that caused my face to flush with heat.

Mr Beach appeared in my peripheral vision. He was wearing a loose fitting, pristine white short-sleeved shirt, and smart trousers. Way over dressed for gardening, and in comparison to his partner.

I stood transfixed as he raised his arm, holding something aloft, then moving in a smooth slow arc. I turned my gaze back to Jane just as the whip made contact with her ass.

Jane's body arched away, pushing her hips forward - as much towards something she wanted as it was away from the whip. She seemed to float there for a few seconds, held outwards by her own strength, and almost as quickly her muscles lowered her back down. I heard her unsteady breathing, and her say "20".

In the stillness of that moment I could hear a buzzing. Insistent, constant. Not like an insect. Mechanical. Electrical. And as the realization of what was attached to the front of her belt hit me I could feel the heat and wetness in my crotch. I stood there, holding this ridiculous plant, but I was desperate to push my hand inside my panties. In fear of breaking the moment, I could only watch.

Again and again I watch as Mr Beach brings his arm up. I watch as Jane's body dances gloriously, powerfully in response to each strike. I could feel my own muscles tense as hers did. And I am soaking wet.

Jane's groans transformed into whimpers. There's a pleading tone to them, but I don't think she was pleading for the whipping to stop. They were the sounds frustration, and of pleasure just out of reach. If "wanting" could be a sound this would be it.

Fresh, red stripes appeared on her cheeks, and I was suddenly aware of dozens of similar marks over her back and buttocks. I had this incredible urge to reach out and trace those lines. I wanted to feel the heat of her skin under my fingertips. I wanted to be part of the experience with her. I wanted. But I could only watch.

I heard Jane say "30" before I even thought of backing quietly away. But just as this thought occurred to me I see Mr Beach put the whip down on a table, and pick up the hose. He walks behind Jane and sprays a fine mist of cool water as he moves around her.

And then he was standing in front of her, and he noticed me for the first time. Our eyes met for what felt like a long moment. Just the briefest look of surprise on his face, before he gave me a reassuring smile. He leaned in close to Jane and whispered in her ear, while still looking directly at me. I couldn't hear his words, but I've always imagined him praising her, telling her he's proud of her. Maybe he told her I was watching too, I like to think so.

The buzzing changed pitch, to a low, heavy thrum. Jane raised up on her toes and thrust her hips forward to him. He was still whispering to her as her body started to tremble. Then, quite loudly, Jane shouted "Oh jesus christ" and her whole body tensed and spasmed for the longest time. Words cannot really do it justice, but it was the most intense thing. She was so focused, beautiful, wanton, and so utterly vulnerable. I desperately wanted to touch her stripes as she shook.

Then she slumped down, and Mr Beach supported her in a fierce embrace. I backed away, still holding that stupid plant pot. Mr Beach gave me a simple nod, and I turned and scurried down the path. I was so very hot, and so very very wet.

Now, years later, I can still see that view as though I'm standing on the path right now. I can smell those vines, feel the heat of that day. And when my husband lovingly ties my wrists and ankles, I close my eyes and can feel that sunshine on my bare skin. And I do count out loud for him, but I've never once got beyond "8" before I cum.