All images in this fictional work were created by the author. All models in these photos are 18 years of age or older, and are fully consenting participants in the creation of these images.

CHAPTER 2: BARBADOS*

*With thanks to my editor – Chris6160

When I arrived in Barbados I found my man waiting at the airport and was driven to the two bedroom apartment that he had rented for us. At this stage there was still no sexual relationship between us but I felt like it would happen soon. When he was out I found a large box in the corner of the apartment. Rummaging through it, I discovered chains, a bondage collar, cuffs, a small flogger and a riding crop. For many people this may have been a issue but I was excited by the exploration of my body to come. I wanted my body to be nude, controlled and subject to mistreatment; to be punished, enjoyed and admired for its sexiness.

Although our first few sexual encounters were blissfully vigorous and deeply satisfying, I had not fulfilled many of my deepest desires. Of course I was hesitant and a little shy about raising the problem of surrendering my body completely. One day I hit on the solution while I waited for him to arrive home from work. I stripped naked (save from a pair of high heels) and fitted myself with the leather cuffs to both ankles and wrists. I then added a collar and a nipple chain, pulled tight enough to feel a little pain. On arrival my man was overjoyed. He fastened the cuffs behind my back and I was immediately marched to the kitchen, not daring to ask what he would do to my helpless body but anticipating much.

In the kitchen there was a large pillar. I was taken to it and the wrist cuffs re-fastened behind the pillar and a spreader bar added to my ankles, leaving the front of my body and my pussy at his mercy. We exchanged very passionate kisses; I felt so deeply aroused with my body helpless and available to him. At first the mistreatment of my body was slight. Based on a film I had seen I asked for my body to be rubbed all over with ice cubes. In a tropical climate this made my body flinch. A number were inserted into my vagina. The next step was a surprise for me; a pair of nipple clamps were produced and tightened to the point where I began to wince. Inside, an overwhelming feeling of sexual desire overcame me. The feeling (and sight) of my body restrained and helpless was so sexy. The sense of it being subjected to mistreatment, no matter how slight, created such a powerful desire that I had to be fucked and fucked immediately.

I was released. You may think it odd for a submissive to be on top but many of our sessions resulted in the cowgirl position. In part I loved to feel the thick, hard dick penetrate as deep as efficient. But it was more my hunger for orgasm. I was so turned on by the beating I just needed a dick inside me as fast and as far as efficient. I would orgasm very quickly and the cowgirl position helped me to begin building to the next orgasm.

Unlike husband I did not need to re-charge between orgasms so I would try to adopt a teasing approach, sometimes slow and gentle and sometimes vigorous and passionate in order to co-ordinate both our orgasms. I would like to think that my technique delivered an incredible orgasm to my Master; that I was the perfect sex slave.

A similar pattern followed on various occasions. I would be stripped and told to put on the collar, wrist and ankle cuffs. A chain would be tightened around each nipple or a clamp applied to each. I would then be led to the kitchen pillar, eagerly anticipating the fate that would befall my body. The front of my body would often be oiled and then whipped, sometimes with a light flogger, more often a leather belt and occasionally a riding crop. I was surprised by how much I enjoyed the sound of the “thwack” as the leather connected to my flesh and the red hot pain that followed. When I glanced down to see the growing number of red stripes I had to try to use all my self control to not come. On these occasions I would at all times be turned around and my sexy rounded ass given similar treatment.

Other times I would be cuffed to the security bars on the windows for similar treatment, occasionally tied to the bed. When tied to the bed a hand spanking was common. Sometimes I would be tied to the bed on my back and my abdomen and thighs bitten. I have to say that being bitten was the one act of cruelty to my body that I found hard to enjoy but, when required, I tolerated it.

On occasions I was also cuffed tightly to the bed and blindfolded. I would hear the sound of a vibrator and knew what to expect. First, gentle circular vibrations around my nipples and I could already feel my pussy moisten. Then it would gently be run up and down each thigh as I started to wriggle with my restraints, followed by the vibrator tracing the red marks on my abdomen. Then it would be briefly inserted in my mouth for me to moisten it. Finally it would be applied to my clitoris as my wriggles were joined by my back arching with the almost unbearable pleasure. The teasing on and off vibration was replaced by the first up and down movements on my clit, first circular and then applied more roughly. At that point I would surrender to the orgasm that flooded through my body.

As you already know, I enjoy the sounds of the thwacks as the instrument makes contact with my naked flesh, and the sight of the red marks on it, more than I enjoy the pain itself. I like to think that the pain and submission is for my body, which deserves it. The sights and sounds are for my inner erotic self to enjoy. Surrendering control of my body is vital to the experience so I must take whatever mistreatment is handed out. If I had my choice I would be standing, my helpless body restrained and the front of my body – abdomen and thighs – whipped with a leather belt. Somehow the sound of the belt connecting to my nude body is more satisfying. It also takes a little longer between strokes, giving more of that delicious anticipation between them.

There was also a fundamental change in my circumstances. My man had a work permit and, hence, a long term visa. I had entered on a tourist visa, which lasted three weeks. We went to the immigration office to request an extension but it was refused. However, if we were married I would be entitled to a long term visa since he had a work permit. There were three days remaining before I would have to leave. A wedding was very hurriedly arranged; a priest was booked to marry us on a nearby beach and a handful of neighbours invited as witnesses. My man became my husband.

Barbados is a dream for an exhibitionist who, like me, is so confident in her body that she is sexually attracted to it. It is a strange island. A significant minority is strictly religious and easily offended by any signs of sensuality, but for the majority sexual morals are much more relaxed than, for example, in England. Most of the people in Barbados regard a local dance – a “wok-up”- as a part of local culture. It consists, essentially, of rhythmically rubbing your groin against that of someone of the opposite gender. On Friday nights I would go to the Oistins fish market, where they offered music and barbecued fish, so that I could rub my scantily covered groin with that of a number of men. The tropical climate means that skimpy clothing is ordinary. The local men are not at all shy about commenting on women and I became used to my body being audibly appreciated.

There was also an essential evolution in attitudes for me. As we socialised and engaged with local life I noticed my husband was keen to encourage me in my exhibitionism. He was clear that he enjoyed my body being shown off. Indeed he encouraged me to do more. The photo is but one example. He encouraged me to wear this bikini. When dry it was just like any white bikini but when wet it revealed all of my body. I wore it to public beaches. On one occasion I engaged a man in conversation having just emerged from the swimming pool. He was unable to take his eyes off my clearly visible groin.

As a result of such shameless and slutty exhibitionism, I received many offers from other men. My husband had at all times been clear: not only did he fully enjoy my showing off, allowing other men to enjoy my body was also a big turn-on for him. He liked the idea of sharing it. It took me a long time to fully believe him on this point. He needed to take drastic action to convince me. The details come later.

The entrance to our apartment was at the rear of the building and could not be overlooked. My husband would sometimes instruct me to join him for a drive, often at night but sometimes by day. My body was required to be fully naked but for high heeled footwear. No consent was asked or needed. One of my husband’s shirts was kept in the car in case we needed an emergency cover-up. We would drive for about one hour while my husband groped my naked body, clearly visible in the passenger seat. It was very rare for anyone to notice but the thrill of efficient discovery was very sexy.

We would often stop to take some outdoor nude photos. At this stage I was looking for occasional freelance work as a glamour model and needed a portfolio to offer.

For several months things continued in a familiar vein of as much exhibitionism as I could get away with outdoors and in private a combination of mild cruelty to my body and some fantastic sex. Overt approaches from other men continued. I would have been happy to sleep with most of the good looking ones but I still hesitated to believe that my husband would not only tolerate but would positively enjoy sharing my body. By this stage we had more or less drifted to a consensus that I was not only his wife but also his sex slave. He explained that choosing to distribute my body with others was very sexy to him because it re-enforced his ownership and control of it. At this point my inner sexual urges kicked in and I knew that I wanted my body to be shared; it seemed its destiny to be available for male pleasure. Still, I hesitated, not knowing how to initiate a eligible occasion. I didn’t need to wait long.

We were invited to a company reception in a large building near the airport. I was asked to dress appropriately but also provocatively: a difficult balancing act. After settling in he introduced me to a businessman who he clearly knew well. He was of Indian origin, comparatively young and very good looking. I was left talking to him while my husband mingled with the other guests. My companion was charming, offering me many compliments and made it clear that he would be interested. I still hesitated and by the time husband returned no arrangement had been made. Just one small detail seemed slightly suspicious. On returning from a visit to the ladies’ room I found the two of them in a conversation which abruptly stopped on my approach.

Barbados, as I have already said, is a strange blend of religious conservatism and blatant sensuality. Public nudity on beaches and elsewhere is not tolerated. Tourists who sunbathe topless can be arrested. Several days after the reception I was on the beach with husband and entered the water for a swim. He had insisted that I wear the white bikini (shown in the photo earlier) that became transparent when wet. When I emerged from the water my husband was nowhere to be seen but there were two policemen there. I had never before or since seen uniformed police on the beach in Barbados. My arms were fastened behind my back with a plastic tie and I was marched off to a police car, arrested for public indecency. At the police station I was thrown into a cell, still wearing my no longer transparent bikini. I was a little anxious but not unduly worried. It was a clear offence but not a serious one.

After one hour or so the cell was unlocked and Rajiv (the Indian businessman who I had met a few nights previously) came in. “I have come to a financial arrangement with the police. You will be released from custody without charge if you agree to an alternative punishment; let me do anything I please with your sexy body for the whole of tonight.” He produced some clothes which had been supplied by husband – so that is what the conspiratorial discussion was about! I did point out to Rajiv that it might have been much easier and less humiliating if he had simply asked. The response was that neither he nor my husband were sure I would accept and, in any case, he wanted the freedom to do as he pleased with my body.

The night with Rajiv was good but lacked the uncontrollable passion of sessions with my husband. I was made to stand naked in front of him, legs aside, as he carefully inspected and fondled every inch of my body. I was then required to pose for a series of still photos and videos, much of which focused on my pussy. He seemed obsessed with my labia, which he repeatedly squeezed very hard. None of this was a issue for a hardened exhibitionist like me and I found the experience enjoyable. Eventually we had sex several times; an enjoyable experience but with only one orgasm for me.

The evening had the effect that I presume my husband intended; I no longer had any concerns about sleeping with other men or, indeed, having my body shared with them for any pleasure they fancied. We lived in Barbados for about one year. At home our sex life continued more or less as previously described except that I began to develop my role as a sex slave. That is, in sexual matters my body was increasingly controlled by its owner – my husband. In typical married life it was very different. I was an equal partner and treated with love and care.

Alas there were few opportunities for my body to be shared. There was plenty of interest but the knowledge that I was married deterred much of it. This was not a moral problem but most suitors simply didn’t believe me when I said that we could get together with my husband’s blessing. Only a few did believe me or simply were unconcerned by husband’s attitude. There was one occasion when I was taken on a nude night ride by husband and left with arms cuffed behind a tree. Some time later a male that I recognised turned up and unshackled my nude body without speaking. After some fondling this resulted in some straightforward sex; all pleasurable but lacking uncontrollable passion. Several other opportunities resulted in sexual encounters in cars, one of which was with someone highly skilled in the use of a vibrator – unusually for me, it was with a female.