The Honeymoon is Over

I had worn clothes for a total of about 5 or 6 hours during the entire week. The rest of the time I had been naked, which meant I stayed in the hotel room or on the patio.

The patio was enclosed by a low wall, providing some privacy; but if someone came close up to it, they could see over. It happened a couple of times as I lay naked on the lounge chair, getting a nice tan with no lines. Some guys playing frisbee got a little close and got a nice full frontal look at me laying on the lounger. They were embarrassed, as was I, though there was nothing I could do about it.

The second time I was seen naked, the couple in the room next to ours spent some time on their patio. The guy kept looking over to make sure I was really nude, which I was. That time I would have gone back in to the room, but I was shackled to the patio table. Jason had gone out to get us some booze, and I was laying on the lounger with my legs spread the first time our neighbor glanced over. Trying to cover myself wasn't going to work, so I just smiled and spread a little wider, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Except for the one time when Jason really had to punish me for disrespect, I was pretty free to roam around the hotel room, enjoy the patio, or whatever. If I was tied up, it was only lightly, as I was when shackled to the table on the patio. It really was a wonderful honeymoon.

The best part of it all was being Jason's complete sex toy. We must have fucked an average of 4 times a day, in every position and using every hole. I was sore, and he must have been too, because at the end of the week he wasn't ravaging my body quite as much.

But now the honeymoon was over, in more ways than one.

It was time to go home. I packed us both, neatly folding and storing all our items in suitcases. I left one outfit out for myself, to wear on the way home. When I was done, Jason asked what the outfit was for.

"I thought I would wear that home; I have been naked for the whole week, but I need to wear clothes driving home."

"Think again, dear," said Jason. "You have done a nice job packing. Pack that last outfit and then lay on the bed, on your stomach. Wait for me there."

I did as I was instructed, and Jason left for a few minutes. When he returned, I was laying naked on the bed, on my stomach. I looked over as he entered the room and saw he had a metal bracket with him that looked a little like a spreader, but not quite. Disturbingly, he was not the only person who entered the room. With him was a bellman.

Laying on the bed, I obediently waited for them as they moved to either side of the bed.

"Lift her leg up, like this," Jason was speaking to the bellman. I felt hands roughly grab my ankles, and bend my legs so that my heels almost touched my ass. Moments later the metal bar was placed under them, and my ankles fit in to depressions made for them. Metal covered them and held them in place, spread just wide enough for my pussy to be clearly accessible.

"Now - her wrists," and my wrists were grabbed and pulled hard, lifting and arching my back slightly as they were drawn down to the same bar that held my ankles. My breath came out in a slight moan as my body was bend backward slightly. There was a squeaking noise as another hinged bar swung closed over my wrists and ankles, and a click as my wrists were locked in place next to my ankles.

I was not going anywhere, not bound like this. The pain in my back from the pulling was mild, but I would have to be careful. Over time it would get worse.

"So... your wife has maybe the best body I have ever seen," the bellman was undoubtedly gazing at my naked ass, back and pussy (not to mention my bound legs).

"She does, doesn't she? I am quite lucky, and I intend to enjoy it as much as possible."

"Um... I don't suppose... given she is restrained and all.... well, that maybe I could touch?" The bellman was losing control of his lust. The spreader bar was keeping my legs apart, and I didn't have to guess what part he wanted to touch.

"Sure, I guess it would be OK. Just no scratches or anything." At this surprising announcement I flushed, totally humiliated and in gasping awe that Jason would allow this stranger to fondle me! I was not a thing to be passed around! But this was a reminder that I was Jason's slave, destined to do his bidding. I was no longer my own, but his property.

I buried my face in the covers of the bed as strange rough hands slid over my ass, spreading the cheeks and then probing my ass gently, exploring my body. Tears were running down my cheeks as his hand slid between my legs, and over the soft folds of my pussy. Fingers spread my lips, exposing my inner vagina and clit. My muscles were going involuntarily from the shock of this touch, and I knew they could see my insides contracting.

His probing eventually settled on my clit, and I was surprised to feel that his fingers were wet and slippery. I was wet, with arousal! I couldn't believe it, and hid my face deeper in the covers as his stroking continued to get me off and my breathing got harder and quicker.

I could feel my hips moving slightly in rhythm with the bellman's stroking, and heard Jason say something to him; I don't know what because I was too busy hiding my face and thrusting my hips as he massaged my clit. Oh Jason, forgive me, but he was bringing me to orgasm, and I was panting, moaning and writhing in my bonds. I couldn't move, couldn't do anything but let him do me, let him bring me to climax, and I reached the climaxed and moaned loudly, straight in to the covers in which I had buried my face.

He stopped, thank goodness. I don't think I could have stood it if he had continued. My clit was sensitive, I had just been masturbated by a stranger while my husband watched, and had a solid orgasm from it. I would have died if he had continued.

Instead, they lifted me up and put me on a cart.

The cart was rolled out of the room and then to a freight elevator where we descended to the garage. I was being carted down to the SUV like our luggage. When we got to the bottom level, I was rolled out to the car, and lifted in to the back. The metal spreader dug in to my wrists and ankles painfully and I cried out.

"Hush, Siobhan, hush..."

Jason took a ball gag on a leather head harness, and hushed me.

The drive home was long, especially long as I drooled all over my chin and neck, and my legs cramped horribly in the awkward position. My ribs pressed against the hard floor of the SUV, as did my breasts, and over time, it really began to hurt. I moaned in the back of the car, but made do by withdrawing inside myself, into my sub space.

When we finally got home, Jason unlocked my restraints. It took a moment for me to get my limbs to stretch out, they had been bent severely for a number of hours. I needed to pee badly, but I was instructed to bring in the luggage first. Carrying the suitcases across the drive completely naked, I hoped none of the neighbors would stop outside our driveway and look in. I made it inside, and begged for permission to pee.

Jason led me to the toilet, and I went to sit. Before I could, Jason stopped me and instructed me instead to stand over a bucket in the corner of the room. There, I was to spread my labia lips with my fingers, and let him observe my urination in to the bucket.

For some reason I was more distraught by this than by almost any other indignity that I had undergone so far. I begged him for some privacy. I would not be able to let the stream loose if I was observed closely and was spreading my pussy lips for him. I tried, but it didn't work, and yet my bladder was about to burst.

At last Jason took me by the hand, leading me to a room in the back that had been transformed in to a sterile tiled operating theater. Once there, he informed me that if I was going to lie about needing to pee, that he would have to control the process. He would be taking away my privilege of peeing until he felt I had learned a lesson. In the back room was a flat table, and I was instructed to lie on it, on my back.

The table had stirrups on it, and my legs rested in them. One strap over each thigh, and one strap over my waist and I was immobile as he did what he pleased to my body. Jason took a long rubber tube, place a small bit of lube on then end and probed my pussy lips apart until he found what he wanted.

The tube went to my urethra, and slid in. I was being cathetered. The sensation was one fo the most awesome I had ever felt, the sensation of something entering a part of my body never before violated, sliding up inside and probing deeply. It was also mildly uncomfortable, and I made a few mewling noises as it went in.

"There, there, Siobhan. You will come to thank me for this later. Trust me."

I had no idea what he meant and for some reason, I shuddered a little with anxiety over what else he had in store for me.

When the tube reached my bladder, a sudden rush of urine flowed out. Quickly, Jason took a small clamp and placed it on the tube, cutting off the stream.

"Now dear. You are not allowed to urinate without first requesting permission. This little arrangement will help you. Let's go upstairs and unpack, OK?" Jason was positively chipper as I felt the pain in my bladder growing.

"Jason, can I please finish urinating?"

"I gave you that chance. No, you may not. Perhaps later. Let's unpack now."

Oh my god, I thought as I swung my legs off the table and stood. A length of tube about 6 inches long extended between my legs, and the clamp kept me from urinating though the tube up my urethra felt like I was constantly peeing. It was the strangest sensation to constantly feel as if I was peeing but never getting relief.

We climbed the stairs to our room and I began unpacking.

It hurt. My bladder was hurting. I knew if it lasted much longer something might go wrong with my body. An infection maybe? But it wasn't supposed to hurt like this, and the urge to go was becoming overwhelming.

I knew if I asked again I might be punished. But I couldn't help it. I needed to go so badly, I had to ask again.

As soon as we finished unpacking, I asked. "Jason, can I please, please urinate now? It really hurts, and I am not sure if this is good for me."

"Yes... you might be right. Well, OK. Let's go downstairs. We can try again. But you know that I am giving this to you, you must give me something in return, later," Jason smiled warmly and just a little cruelly.

I didn't care. I walked as quickly as I could to the bathroom, positioned myself squatting over the bucket, and when Jason released the clamp my urine streamed down and sprayed forcefully against the metal.

The sensation of relief was overwhelming. When I was done, I breathed a huge sigh, lifting my face to look at the ceiling as Jason replaced the clamp on my tube.

Whatever came later, it was worth it.