Chapter One

 

It started with Maria, but Mona made it happen.

Maria is a slave driver, a beautiful queen who uses men for her own pleasure. She knows everything about sex, but I sometimes wonder if she knows anything about love.

Mona was a slave. She was an expert too, when it was time for sex, but Mona's specialty was love.

Maria can, and will, string a man up like a side of meat and spend the whole day finding new and better ways to drive him to the edge of insanity with her gentle fingers and probing tongue. She delights in keeping her victim hovering on the edge of orgasm, aching for a release he can never attain until Maria allows it.

She uses men for her pleasure, and if the man gets any pleasure from it that's his good luck. Jim likes it that way, and for Jim I guess Maria is the right woman.

Mona was different. She could tease a man to the edge of insanity too, but she did it so his release, when she allowed it, would be more complete and satisfying. To Mona, her own pleasure was incidental. Anything that pleased her -- man and I mean anything -- pleased Mona. She was my woman, and I'll never want another.

There were others, of course, and I wanted them at the time. There were even a few before I came to Bayono, but they don't count. Once you've known a Bayono woman, any other is about as interesting as a friendly puppy.

Linda was like that. Just a nice healthy girl out for a bit of a thrill, and if I'd stuck with her none of this would have happened.

If I'd stuck with Linda I would never have heard of Bayono. I would have settled in a shack on the beach and stayed there a while, and I might even have got a job there.

Funny thing about that. There was a time I keep telling myself when I could actually consider going back to Cleveland and marrying a Cleveland girl and living the way people live in Cleveland.

If I'd stuck with Linda I would probably have done that and I wouldn't have known any better. But on the other hand if I'd stuck with Linda I would never have met Mona, and that's the important part. I've got mixed feelings about that.

I can't honestly wish that I'd never met Mona because she meant too much to me. Having known her I can't imagine living the past couple of years without knowing her. It wouldn't have been worth while.

But I can, and do, wish that Mona had never met me.

 

***

 

It started in a bar in Hawaii, a touristy kind of place with potted palms along the walls and tropical fruit on the tables. Linda was on vacation and looking for excitement, and I guess she figured I looked like excitement. We'd met on the plane that brought us both to the islands, a few days before.

I was on vacation too, but I didn't have to settle for two weeks. My parents had been killed together by a well-insured driver, and I was planning to spend a few thousand of the insurance money on six months of dissipation. Nothing spectacular I was just going to rent a shack on the beach where I could relax and take it easy, and maybe make a few decisions.

But I wasn't into the shack yet. Linda and I hit it off well on the plane, and we were doing even better since we landed. She was staying at a cheap hotel and I took a room at the same place for the two weeks she would spend on the islands. I could be a tourist for that long, if it kept Linda happy and cooperative.

Maria was working when we met, but I didn't know that. She was working at meeting me, and when Maria wants to meet a man she knows how to go about it.

I thought it was an accident that she knocked my phone off the table as she brushed past and I'll always remember, even now, the way she dropped to her knees to pick it up and the way she looked at me as she apologized. That's one of the things they teach at Bayono, of course, and I'm used to it now. It still turns me on and that was the first time I saw it. It made me feel like a cross between King Kong and the Sheik of Araby.

Linda didn't notice anything special and neither did anyone else at the bar. Even I didn't know what was happening at the time. I know now though that Maria committed psychological rape on me before she stopped to introduce herself, and that she did it so subtly that she was the only person there who knew what was happening.

Anyway, Linda and I went surfing the next day and that was the last I saw of her. Not that she wasn't worth seeing she was well built and she was very much alive and I liked her but Maria wanted me and when Maria wants a man any other woman might as well go home.

Maybe I should tell you a bit more about Maria but it's kind of hard to tell you what she looks like in street clothes because you wouldn't notice her in street clothes unless she wanted you to. If she wanted you to notice her, you wouldn't notice the street clothes.

She's a brunette, about average height and with a good average build. So what? She dresses well, but she's not spectacular and you probably wouldn't notice her clothes unless you were a fashion designer.

I guess the most important things about her are her strength and the way she moves with the silent grace of a cat or a really good jazz dancer. She works with her body but she doesn't do much that would strike you as sexy, unless it was aimed at you. If she wants to, she can get you mildly interested or frantically horny just by looking at you. She did better than that when she picked up my phone.

There was no flutter or fuss to it the whole thing was as simple as a classic ballet. About as well rehearsed too, as I learned later.

She dropped to both knees immediately in a smooth motion that would have bruised her knees if her legs weren't strong enough to stop her at the last moment. Then she bent and sort of curled up over the phone while she lifted it with both hands.

She straightened her body and, still on her knees, she raised the phone to me. She kept her face down and sort of looked at me out of the top of her eyes for a second, then she looked down again while she apologized.

The phone wasn't damaged and normally I would have been embarrassed to let a woman make a fuss over it, but Maria did it so quickly and so gracefully that it seemed right. And it turned me on, which is exactly what Maria planned to do. When she picked up that phone I wasn't thinking of a woman who had knocked something off a table in a bar, I was thinking of a slave-girl who had made a mistake and was afraid of being punished for it. That sounds ridiculous and I wouldn't have couldn't have put my feelings into words at the time. I didn't recognize it then, but that's what it was and it was that way because Maria wanted me to feel that way.

We've talked a lot about this sort of thing at Bayono, in bull sessions. Jim argues that Maria's movements are attractive because they make a man think of slave-girls and male superiority, and both those ideas have an obvious attraction to any man whether he admits it or not. Maria says the movements and the attitudes themselves are graceful and attractive, and that slave girls originally began to use them because they had to be attractive to their masters. I don't worry about the philosophy and I know is that it turns me on, if it's done properly, and it does the same for any other man. When Maria picked up that phone, I knew that I would rather spend my time with Maria than with Linda.

Maria made it easy for me. I told her the phone was all right but she wouldn't take my word for it. She said that if there was any damage she would pay for it and she insisted that we meet the next morning to take it to a shop and get it checked out. I didn't care about the phone but by then if Maria had wanted a date for a suicide pact I'd have gone with her.

We went to the shop the next morning and I kept my date for surfing with Linda in the afternoon. But I took Maria to dinner that night, and somehow I never had time to take Linda out after that.

I'm no sex maniac but I'm not exactly a eunuch either. Normally I wouldn't waste a couple of weeks on a woman without getting anything for my trouble, but I did with Maria.

We went surfing or swimming together every day. We took tours together. We ate together and we drank together. We danced, walked and took taxis. We talked about just about everything under the sun, but I never got a chance to touch her. This was no platonic friendship I was hot and panting nearly all the time I was with her but I was completely under her control.

I've met girls who did that before and I called them teases and forgot about them in a hurry. Maria was a tease, but she knew enough about teasing that I couldn't forget about her. And at the same time I wasn't sure she was teasing, because she didn't do anything that I recognized as a sexual tease. She struck me as a pure and innocent (hah!) young woman who just didn't realize that she was driving me up the wall every time she moved.

I found out later that she was testing me then. She has a good thing going at Bayono, and she doesn't take any chances on a mistake that might wreck it. Nobody goes to work there until Maria has checked them out, and is satisfied.

She has to recruit the men herself anyway, because I doubt that she would get the ones she wants to work at Bayono any other way. I know I would never have taken the job if say Jim had offered it to me. I probably wouldn't have taken it when Maria offered it, if she hadn't shown me first what she was talking about. But that was two weeks later.

Maria liked walking and I didn't mind and we did a lot of it during those two weeks. We'd take a bus or a taxi out past the edge of town and then just start walking along the beach or down a back road or anywhere. The last time, we went right across the island on the bus because Maria said a friend of her boss' had a beach house he said she could use, and she wanted to see it. It was a small place, she said, mostly open patios and half-covered decks, built on a rock overlooking the sea with about twenty acres of private land around it. Not a palace, but a very nice place.

She managed to get us both lost while she was looking for it though, and the way we went it turned out to be a ten-mile walk through soft sand after we got off the bus. The walk didn't bother Maria much but it knocked me out, and I was dead-beat when we finally climbed up to the patio.

I flopped on a lounge one of those web plastic things to recuperate while Maria opened the door and went inside to explore. The sun was nice and I was tired so I just sat and watched the waves and waited. The house was behind me and Maria moves so quietly you can never hear her coming anyway, and this time she was right beside me before she spoke.

She had been wearing a light skirt and blouse when we left town and she looked good in it, but she didn't turn any heads on the street. She'd never knelt before me since the time she knocked my phone off the table and when we talked she talked more like a sister than like a woman, if you know what I mean. So it was a shock as I lay in the sun and watched the sea and listened to the waves, to hear what I call her 'bedroom voice.'

"Your drink, master." the tone of voice alone was enough to convince me that some houri out of the Arabian Nights had mistaken me for Abdul the Magnificent, but that wasn't all.

Maria was kneeling beside the lounge, about even with my waist. Her head was bowed so I couldn't see her face but she held her body straight up and down. She was dressed in a two-piece black outfit that covered everything that should be covered, but I could see the shape of everything but the pores of her skin through it.

The top was a tight halter and the bottom was a sort of skirt that came down to her knees, but there were no sides to it and it dropped between her legs, leaving her thighs bare, as she knelt. In her hands she held a small wooden tray with one glass of beer on it.

I wasn't even sure it was Maria at first and I hesitated before I reached for the glass. After a second she looked up and smiled at me.

"Take it Bill," she said. I'm going to show you something.

I took the drink and she put the tray under the lounge, out of my sight, then she settled back,\ with her hands behind her. She looked at me sometimes as she talked, but mostly she hung her head and looked at the ground.

"We've been going out for nearly two weeks now," she said, "and I haven't even let you kiss me. I've been teasing you, but I was also testing you all that time. This is to make up for the teasing, so relax and enjoy it.

"At least," she looked up and smiled, "I'll show you that I'm not frigid!"

I wasn't wearing much just sandals and jeans and a t-shirt but she took her time about getting them off. The sandals came first.

She knelt at the foot of the lounge and picked up my foot. Her hand started about halfway up my calf and stroked gently down to release the heel strap and remove one sandal, then the other.

I had to put down my drink and sit up while she took off my T shirt, and while I was up she dropped the back of the lounge flat. Then she sat down and laid my head on her lap before she gave me my drink.

"A lot of women think sex comes naturally," she said as she stroked my head, "and some of it does. But the natural part of sex doesn't satisfy anything but the physical urge.

"If a woman really wants to please a man she can do a lot better than that. She can build a dream-world for him, and if she does it well enough he will never want to leave it. He can't live in it all the time, of course, and no single woman could provide it all the time but one woman can provide as much of a dream world as any man needs and if she's smart she will provide it whenever he needs it. Any woman worth her salt knows more about what a man needs than he does.

I was in a dream world myself, by then. I'd got the predictably horny ideas when I first saw her kneeling beside me and I'd got more than ideas when he began to undress me, but now I was beginning to relax. I was drifting in a sea of care and tenderness, with Maria's soft voice coming from somewhere in the distance.

"A woman has to know how to manage a man," she said. "You wouldn't be lying here now, for instance, if we'd come straight from the bus. You'd have been trying to paw me, like you usually do, and you'd have been wondering why you weren't getting anywhere.

"I didn't get lost on the beach I just brought you the long way round so you would be tired enough to want to relax by the time we got here."

I don't know whether I'd have been willing to lie there or not if I hadn't been tired, but I've learned since that Maria knows more than I do about things like that. What she doesn't know about men and their reactions isn't worth knowing.

My glass was empty and she took it from me. Then she lifted my head and stood up. She pulled me to my feet beside the lounge.

"Now I'll show you what I mean," she said.

She dropped to her knees in front of me, her head bowed. She was so close to me that her hands were almost above her head as she unbuckled my belt and unzipped my fly.

Her hands were a long caress as she pulled my jeans down to my ankles, then lifted my feet out of them. She slid her hands up the outsides of my legs, barely brushing the hairs, then gently held my buttocks as she looked up at me with a half-pleading, half-frightened expression.

Then she gently pressed her cheek against the front of my shorts before she settled back and drew them down with the same long caress she had used to remove my jeans. I was naked and violently aroused but I still hadn't touched her, and I didn't then.

Gently and with a sort of reverence she kissed the tip of my cock before she settled back onto her heels, hands clasped behind her, to look again into my face. She had to look almost straight up, and her breasts strained against the thin cloth of her halter.

"You've had girls before Bill," she said. "I know you have your own ideas about how to do it. But please let me lead now I want to show you something different."

She rose to her feet, with the grace and ease of a professional dancer, and gently took my hand. I stood, and she led me into what looked like an over-size shower stall, with a low, slatted wood table. With a hand-spray of warm water she wet my body, then pushed me over to lie face-down on the table. Her light halter stuck even tighter to her breasts when it was wet.

The table was long enough for me to stretch out full-length, face down, with my hands over my head while my cock and balls hung comfortably through a hole in the middle of it. Maria sprinkled me gently with warm water.

"This is called a sand-bath," she said as she knelt beside me. "I think they probably began with the Pharaohs of Egypt. You need someone to scrub you though, so you won't see it very often around here.

She picked up a handful of coarse sand from a basin beside her and started at my feet, scrubbing them gently, one at a time. The sand she spilled dropped through the slats of the table to the floor below.

"I don't like soap," she said as she worked her way up my legs. "it gets off some of the dirt but it leaves a layer of scum behind. Most people get used to the scum, but they're not really clean.

"And it's the layer of dead skin on top that makes you feel dirty anyway. The top layer of your skin is always dying but it's protected by your clothes and there's nothing to scrub it off, so it just collects there."

She was working on my back now, with long forceful strokes. I could feel the sand cutting through the accumulated sweat and dead skin of my back. but the scrubbing was actually very gentle. Maria rinsed me with a spray of warm water before she rolled me over.

"You need soap for some things" she said as she squirted shampoo around my balls. "You can't clean hair with sand." barely touching my cock and balls she gently worked the soap into a lather, then rinsed it off.

"But sand is still the best for most things." With sand again, she scrubbed the front of my legs. "I get this coarse sand from a river in the mountains."

The whole sand bath took about an hour with a shampoo for my head and a gentle washing of my cock and balls with soap. It didn't strike me until later but I had entered the bath hut in a state of near-frenzy, I was handled all over by a beautiful near-naked woman while I was in there and though I had no satisfaction I was completely relaxed when she led me out to a low, wide sheepskin-covered couch in a dim, cool room. I lay on the couch while Maria stepped behind a screen, then stepped out again wearing a dry halter and skirt. She knelt on the couch beside me.

"Now rest," she said as she gently caressed my buttocks with one hand. I had a few seconds to look at her quietly-smiling face before I drifted gently into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Maria woke me from my sleep, but I didn't know it at the time. I drifted gently out of that dreamless never-never land and I lay still for a couple of minutes looking around at my unfamiliar surroundings and wondering where I was, and why I was there.

It was the sight of Maria that reminded me. She knelt on the floor beside the couch, her head bowed and her hands behind her back. She was still clad in her brief costume but now a small key hung form a gold chain around her neck.

"The key to my chains, master," she said as my eyes were drawn to it. She touched her forehead to the floor and I saw that her hands were in manacles and that she wore leg irons coupled by a foot or so of light chain. She straightened, looked at me with a smile, and then dropped her head once again.

Now I know some people like the bondage thing but I never thought of it for myself. It isn't the sort of thing you get into playing with the girls in Cleveland. Not the girls I knew, anyway.

Maria's chains were attractive but they were also disturbing. I wasn't sure what to do about them, or about her, and she didn't offer any suggestions.

"This is a bit of a switch," I said, sitting on the side of the couch.

"Yes master." Maria's voice was passive and her head remained bowed.

"So what should I do about it?" I asked.

"My master will do as my master pleases," she said.

"And what about you?"

"I am here for my master's amusement. I will do as my master pleases," she said.

The words and the pose were both strange to me, and both were fiercely exciting. Maria gave me the impression that she was completely in my power and I wondered for a while whether she might be a masochist if she might be hoping I would take the opportunity to torture her.

I know now that she was taking about the same chance with her slave act that you take when you flip a switch and hope the light will come on. She knew me well enough by then to predict the reaction and besides, she'd whispered instructions in my ear as I slept.

"That was your first time with real sex games," she told me later, "and I wanted to be sure you would have the confidence to enjoy them properly. I thought you would do better with a bit of unconscious suggestion."

She was right. If I'd been left to my own ideas then I would probably have unchained her, sat her on the couch beside me and begun pawing her like I would any other girl, while I tried to talk her into something she had already decided on anyway. Maria didn't want talk, she wanted action, and what I did was just about exactly what she wanted me to do.

I spent several minutes just looking at her letting my eyes roam over her curves. Exulting in her submissive posture and allowing myself to revel in her complete helplessness. Whether she was helpless or not, and I later found out she was not, she had deliberately set up a situation in which she appeared to be a toy. Something to be used for my amusement and to be broken if I thought that would amuse me.

To be honest I have had some sadistic fantasies I guess every man has and this was beginning to look like one of them.

But those fantasies always revolved either about a non-existent woman or one I had known, and disliked, in a conventional context. Given all the opportunity in the world and I thought at the time that I had it I could not have taken pleasure in hurting Maria.

But I could exert my dominance, and accept her submission, in another way. Maria was a beautiful woman, bound and kneeling helpless before me. She was a woman who had teased me sexually and offered no release, and I decided then to make her writhe and moan with desire before I took her. I thought then, and I know now, that it's the ultimate high for a man's ego to see a beautiful woman crawling before him, begging him to fuck her.

It's not the sort of thing you can do with most women. Most of the women we meet are free, or at least they think they are, and they insist on having equal say in sexual matters as in everything else. I know now that sex is much better when one or the other assumes absolute dominance over the other. Dominance may switch from game to game but either way the dominant partner can use his or her dominance to drive his or her partner to unbelievable heights of desire.

Allowing one partner dominance also strips the other partner of his or her dignity, and one of the first things women learn at Bayono is that dignity is no help in the bedroom.

Maria had thrown away her dignity as she knelt before me, and I didn't offer to return it. I stood, took a handful of her hair, and lifted her to her feet. She lifted herself, actually, but she kept enough tension on her hair to give both of us the impression that I was lifting her.

Still holding her hair , I pulled her head back and inspected her face. I saw fright there, and hope. Fright that I knew was feigned, and hope that I knew was genuine. Her lips opened as I bent to kiss her and her body moved to me as I put my free arm around her. She writhed slowly in my grasp.

Releasing her lips and taking my hand from her back, but still holding her hair, I stepped back and surveyed my prize. And by then I did think of her as a prize, to be enjoyed at my leisure. She stood straight, with her head held back by my grip on her hair, her hands still chained behind her back and her feet spread about fifteen inches, the limit of the chain on her leg-irons.

The skin of her throat was stretched taught and her breasts strained magnificently upwards under the think halter as I held her head back. Her stomach stretched taut and inviting between the halter that still concealed her breasts and the waist-band of her skirt.

Gently I ran my fingertips over her face, neck and throat, down her arms to her hands and back again. I blew gently into her ear and was rewarded by a quick gasp of breath as her body tightened. I ran one fingertip delicately over and around the lines of her breasts, feeling their rich firmness. Gently, I rubbed one nipple between finger and thumb and watched it rise to crisp perfection, stretching the cloth over it. Her eyes rolled toward me with a look of pleading and I smiled at her as one might smile at a dog that wants to be petted.

Her halter was held by a single snap fastener at the back, and it fell away with a flock of my finger. She drew in her breath as her breasts were bared, then closed her eyes with a low moan as my fingers drifted gently down the sides of her body and over her hips.

I released her hair and with both hands I reached behind her and under the back of her skirt; cradling the firm, smooth muscles of her buttocks one in each hand. Her eyes were still closed and her lips parted. She crushed her bare breasts against me and lifted her face, pleading for a kiss. The skirt dropped with a flick of my finger and I held in my arms a beautiful and naked woman, her arms chained behind her, submissive to my will and frantic with desire.

But I didn't give her what she wanted just yet. Even when she was totally dominated I found pleasure in arousing her desire still further. I wondered whether I could make her lose control of her body. Thanks to her subconscious suggestions, I was ready to enjoy my pleasure to the utmost.

I turned her gently until her back was to the couch and, keeping one hand in the small of her back I rested the other on one breast and gently pushed. Responding intuitively, she bent back like a dancer doing a back bend until the top of her head rested on the couch. I now faced a beautiful arch of curved and ready woman, with a throbbing and expectant cunt presented for my use.

But I didn't use it yet. Spreading her buttocks with my fingers I knelt between her chained legs, touched my tongue to her throbbing clitoris and deliberately began to send her into paroxysms of ecstasy.

She was writhing before me. The muscles of her belly rolled like waves in the sea and the throbbing muscles of her cunt carefully trained, I later discovered grasped my tongue and nearly pulled it from my mouth. Maria was in a frenzy of passion and though I knew -- because I knew -- that my tongue could never completely satisfy her, I continued flicking it in and out. Minutes later she collapsed on the floor, a throbbing, moaning bundle of aroused sexual desire and frustration.

I stood, stretched and walked across the room. On the sideboard was a bottle of cool wine. I poured a glass of it and walked back on the couch, where I sat and sipped wine as I watched her efforts to regain control over her body.

Maria had spent the first round of her energy in response to my tongue and in the physical effort of maintaining her band-bend position. Now she began to recover.

Hampered by her chains, thoroughly cowed and dominated, she crawled slowly to the couch. As I lay back she kissed my feet, then my shin and finally my thigh. Still moaning softly, she took my throbbing cock into her mouth and caressed it briefly with her tongue and lips. Then she released it and, gathering her legs under her, she knelt beside the couch and laid her head on my stomach. Her eyes fixed, hopefully, on my face.

I rested one hand on her head and we lay together for a moment. Then I lifted my hand and waved her up. She raised her had and swung the key, in it's chain, into my hand. With a quick jerk I snapped the chain.

Maria bowed her head and lifted her arms so I could remove the manacles. Then I gave her the key to remove her leg irons. Freed, she knelt again beside me to await my orders.

"Amuse me," I said.