Part 2 - Playing on the beach
The morning came and Celia came to herself. Her position had not mysteriously changed during the night. Both she and Natasha were still bound, still spread-eagled and still in exactly the same position. The difference was the grey haired, old man had returned and was standing down at the foot of the bed and looking, looking between their legs. Behind him were the two men, once more dark suited and impassive.
Celia felt paralysed as if she could do nothing without instruction from the old man. Of course she desperately needed to wee but she could say nothing - neither ask permission nor release the pressure in her bladder. Probably Natasha felt the same. It would perhaps have been good to release a stream of urine at the men and shown what she thought of them. But they might actually have liked that and joined in. Not a good prospect, but the prospect for the day was probably not good in any case.
"I see you were busy last night." He was not addressing Celia or Natasha
"Yes, sir."
"You seem to have done well."
"Thank you, sir. We tried."
Could the old man see? Could he see a leakage between their thighs?
"Well, yes; good morning girls," he turned to them. "I think, having had a good sleep, it is time for you to have your bath and then we can have breakfast on the veranda. Then, perhaps, you can both go and play on the beach."
Their bonds were loosened. Celia happy to stand and hide what was between her legs from the men. Natasha was hopping from one leg to the other. It was clear what she needed to do.
"Come," the old man said, taking each by a hand and leading them to the bathroom. Celia found she could move, could do what the old man said.
It was a lovely bathroom, big, tiled and very well appointed. But what really caught her eye - and Celia could see Natasha's as well - was the lavatory. The need to wee was almost excruciating.
The old man reached, put the plug in the bath and turned on the taps. Water gushed from the taps and gurgled into the bath. The sound of running, rushing hot and cold water. Just not what girls or, indeed, boys want to hear when 'desperate' - not at all! Celia was surprised, the way, Natasha was still hopping from one foot to the other not to see a sudden release - a wetting of the floor. But like her, it seemed Natasha could do nothing. The old man had not said they could sit on the lavatory or anything.
The water splashed on into the bath. It was agony.
"Right girls, go and have a wee. I know how you girls like to do that together.
He turned away towards the wash basin. Natasha looked at Celia and she signalled for Natasha to 'go' first, Celia had not really meant to but her eyes just followed Natasha across the room and saw even before her bottom hit the seat the thick stream of wee rushing from her. The relief on Natasha's pretty face a delight.
The man appeared to be getting his shaving things but Celia could see he was actually watching, watching Natasha in the mirror.
It was not easy waiting for Natasha - she seemed never to stop but then, at last, it was her turn; Celia's turn to flop down on the lavatory and empty her bulging bladder. Such a relief even if the old man was watching her. Such a relief.
The bath half full and steaming.
The old man turned off the taps and beckoned to the girls. "In you get and I want to see proper washing not just playing. Tabitha, you wash Emily-Sue and Emily-Sue you wash Tabitha. Properly mind and front and back bottoms. Tabitha - you can sit at the plug hole end today."
Celia stood. She felt so much better. So much better for emptying her bladder but now she had to wash her friend. Ordinarily she... but this was anything but ordinary; ordinarily she would not have dreamt of being in a bath with another girl but now... now she rather liked the idea of running soapy hands over Natasha's pretty black skin and washing her. Natasha's eyes caught hers and her hand came up to help Celia into the bath. The touch was something special. They were moving from being acquaintances to friends. A shared adversity is always a bonding experience. They had already shared adversity but also a surprising intimacy in the dark. Celia could not forget she had rather liked it - did Natasha feel the same? Their eyes held for a moment or two and then they both stepped into the bath.
At the washbasin the old man had divested himself of his dressing gown and was preparing to shave. The mention of the 'beach' brought back to Celia the conversations on the train. Was the old man continuing the ludicrous fantasy of she and Natasha being grand-daughters or was it nieces or perhaps daughters of friends coming to stay at the old man's beach house and him not noticing they had grown somewhat? A fantasy, though, only part of the time. You did not tie up you nieces or your friends' daughters nor allow your colleagues to... do things. Nor did you join young girls in the bathroom naked and watch them pee.
He turned to them, his face covered in shaving foam and his genitalia exposed for them to see - just hanging there in front of him, "Come on girls get on with your washing."
Celia looked at Natasha and they sat down in the water, their legs alternate. The water was lovely - and so was Natasha sitting there in front of her. Such a pretty face, such lovely hair, such rounded breasts with her dark, dark nipples. Celia's eyes dropped to Natasha's mons with the dark hair so straight. She could see it all beneath the water and her slit just so clear. She looked up and realised Natasha had been watching her and knew where Celia's eyes had been looking. Celia was embarrassed.
Natasha picked up the soap and began washing Celia's feet. It was nice both feeling and watching her brown fingers at work. Her leg was lifted, soapy hands were on her calf and then knee. A lovely soft feeling. Gentle hands on her skin. She caught Natasha looking between her thighs. Her leg a little lifted and parted and Natasha so clearly looking not at her leg but her sex. They had already rubbed their sexes together but were now about to touch each other intimately with their fingers whilst washing. All of a sudden Celia realised that sometime soon it would not just be Natasha's fingers at her sex or her own fingers at Natasha's but they would be 'kissing' each other down there - and the awful thing was, she wanted that. It was not going to be something forced on them - it would be voluntary. What had happened to her? What had the old man done?
The old man came closer and stood watching them. It would have been easier to know what he was thinking had he been able to achieve an erection but it seemed from the night before that was beyond him. Sexual excitement, orgasm and ejaculation were a different matter but his penis hanging at eye level right in front of Celia and Natasha betrayed nothing. Not a twitch. He could be worked up into a frenzy of excitement and they would not know it. All of a sudden the penis might just drip, drip, drip translucent semen into the bathwater - there was no telling.
The man, though, returned to his shaving. No doubt watching them in the mirror. Celia too picked up the soap and began lathering Natasha. Her fingers touching the lovely brown skin.
It was a mutual decision. What order do you wash a friend? It is rather simpler when washing yourself! From legs they moved to torso and it just happened that they found themselves soaping each other's breasts together. So nice having her hands on the smooth mounding of Natasha's breasts and feeling the hardness of her nipples. The old man might not have an erection but Celia could feel just how hard her own nipples were and see and feel Natasha's. So nice to feel them in the palms of her hands as she soaped and - yes - fondled the twin mounds. They were looking into each other's eyes and biting their lips.
"Front and back bottoms." The old man had finished his shaving and was applying cologne.
Natasha and Celia knelt, each facing the other and soaped up their hands. A nod from Natasha and they touched each other. One hand on Natasha's dark, slicked back hair; another, Natasha's, on Celia's own springy blond bush; each with a forefinger feeling for and sliding in their slits.
"Come on girls, breakfast awaits."
He was close by them, still naked, still flaccid, but his eyes were watching closely.
They got on with it. Hands washing each other's pudenda and bottom as if it was their own - doing just such a normal thing - only it wasn't, it wasn't their own bodies.
The man watched all they did and then turned and picked up shorts and shirt.
"Get yourself ready and then on the veranda and we'll have a nice breakfast." He turned to the door and then looked back. To Celia it seemed he was thinking of something. "Come on, get out and get dried." He watched them stand and then nodded to himself.
It seemed to Celia that as soon as the old man was out of the room she felt freer but her and Natasha's freedom to perhaps touch a little more was immediately ended by the door re-opening and the two dark suited men entering. They both smiled at the sight of the two girls standing in the bath water.
An intake of breath from Natasha. Were they about to be treated the same as the night before?
"Mr Levinson would like you to shave."
But girls do not... oh! Celia all of a sudden knew what was required.
"Shall we leave you to it or would you like..."
"We'll do it." Celia was quick. There was no point arguing. She could imagine if they refused then they would be so easily bound, so easily bound in an undignified way and the men would have no difficulty with the razor and she could imagine their thick fingers everywhere and probably at the end of it all not just their fingers. She could imagine just what their idea of after shave lotion would be.
Natasha and Celia found themselves alone, standing still in the bath water. Instinctively they hugged; breast to breast; wet skin to wet skin.
The door reopened, "And hurry up."
The knowing smile from the man was not pleasing.
The door closed and a quick kiss, lips to lips. "Come on, we'd better do it," said Natasha.
The razor had been left on the washbasin, the shaving cream was there, there was hot water and towels aplenty and scissors in the cupboard. Natasha working first as Celia lay back on the floor and opened herself to her friend and then it was her turn; her turn to snip the lovely hair away, apply the cream and slide away with the razor. How pretty she thought Natasha's exposed sex was. The lovely soft dark fringed flaps of her labia minora, the wet pinkness, her little pee hole, the little stand of her clitoris together with the special entrance to her body that had been so rudely invaded by the two men's thick penes the night before. It all looked so kissable. Celia bent her head...
"Are you girls ready? Tabitha, Emily-Sue? Oh yes, very nice; very nice indeed."
Where before Natasha and Celia had displayed fine womanly bushes there was now not a hint even of down. The girls were as hairless as, well, schoolgirls. Their fine womanly breasts gave a very different impression but...
