Holiday Slavery

H O L I D A Y

B O N D A G E

Chapter 12: A Public Competition.

I still felt tired -- but very contented! -- when my Mistress woke me early the next morning. We showered and I helped her dress, then we met Master Paul and Helen for breakfast, which was presented in 'serve-yourself' style.

Here, of course, 'serve-yourself' meant 'slaves-serve-your-Masters-and-Mistresses'! Helen and I were doing our duty for my Mistress and Master Paul when one of the officers approached them at their table.

"I'm in charge of organizing the traditional slaves' boat race this morning," he told them. "And because your slaves are newcomers on this cruise, you have first refusal on places for them in the crews. Do you wish to take up the offer?"

My Mistress and Master Paul looked at each other in obvious surprise, and my Mistress replied, "I've heard a little about this boat race, but would you please tell us some more?"

"We like to keep the experience as a pleasant surprise for slaves new to it," responded the officer smoothly. "If you would send your slaves out of earshot, I'll be happy to give you all the details."

So Helen and I spent the next fifteen minutes or so at the other side of the room, watching the officer's back and our owners' faces. We wondered aloud to each other what this 'boat race' might mean, as we saw my Mistress' and Master Paul's fascinated interest in the officer's story and, finally, their smiles and nods. The officer left and they beckoned us back to continue our breakfast; and during the rest of the meal they repeatedly glanced at each other and broke into peals of suppressed laughter.

Helen and I had already guessed it would be futile to ask them to tell us anything at all; we simply had to contain our curiosity while we finished breakfast and then took a leisurely walk around the decks. In fact, I was getting quite tense with excitement, wondering what the 'boat race' was and when it would happen ... and it was quite a relief when we passed the Purser's office and my Mistress suggested that we go in and "... see how my slave's little slave-girl friend is this morning."

Nicole was there, of course, and she greeted us with a bright smile. As she was a slave crew member, it wasn't surprising to find that she was naked -- but it was immediately apparent that something different had been done with her long long hair. "I thought so last night, didn't I?" she said. "My Master the Captain made me braid it this morning ... see!"

She turned slowly around to display one thick plait hanging down her back to just above her bottom, as well as two more which hung forward on each side of her face; these were merged into one below her lovely firm breasts and hung to just above her pussy. But a closer inspection revealed that 'hung' wasn't quite the right word; in fact both plaits were being pulled downwards by a strong elastic band knotted firmly to their ends and passing between her legs!

Now I understood why she'd been a little nervous at the idea of braiding her hair! The elastic was pulled deep in the cleft between her buttocks and it almost disappeared between the lips of her pussy; and the tension was clearly enough to prevent her moving her head much at all. Yet she showed remarkable cheerfulness as she explained that the Captain like to torment her in this way usually once on every trip.

Her story was suddenly interrupted by the intercom in the Purser's office. "Bridge calling," said a voice. "Captain's orders to slave Nicole: choose a nearby Master -- or Mistress if you like -- and ask him or her politely to pluck your string!"

This message brought a deep blush to Nicole's face and neck. She smiled a little ruefully, took a deep breath and faced Master Paul. "Please sir," she said, "would you like to pluck my string?" At his slightly bemused nod, she spread her legs wide and continued: "There are three little knobs on this elastic, one on front, one behind and one right between my legs." She pointed them out; "Please use one or more of them to stretch the elastic as tight as you wish, then allow it to snap back into place."

She put her hands behind her back and waited, smiling (a little nervously) at Master Paul. The rest of us watched in total fascination as he carefully located two knobs, the one in the middle and the one at the front (the latter seemed to be positioned almost precisely on her clit!). Slowly he pulled on them, stretching the elastic until there was a gap of several inches between it and Nicole's crotch ... held it a moment ... then let go!

The loud SMACK of the elastic snapping against the tender flesh of Nicole's pussy and crotch was followed instantly by her equally loud gasp of pain! But she recovered quickly, smiled at Master Paul and said, "Thank you, sir. Please forgive my squeals -- the first one for the day is always the most painful. I hope my Master the Captain doesn't send too many of those messages today; sometimes it's just once or twice, but other times he seems to call every five minutes!"

"You're a very obedient slave-girl," commented my Mistress warmly. "But tell me: are you ever tempted to pretend you didn't hear the message? There doesn't seem to be any way for the Captain to check on you."

"I did that once or twice a few months ago," replied Nicole. "And I got away with it, too ... until I was found out because I accidentally left another intercom line to the bridge open, and my Master himself heard me muttering that there was no-one else about and I couldn't be bothered looking for a Master to ask. As punishment, I spent the rest of that day on the bridge, tied with my legs spread almost horizontal, and every time the Captain gave any order my elastic was twanged.

"I was very sore after forty or more 'twangs'," she continued ruefully. "So now I don't dare disobey. What's more, my Master now expects me to remember whom I ask each time, and I never know when he might check with any of them to see if I've told the truth!"

Just then the public address system burst into life. "Would the following owners please bring their slaves to the named lifeboat stations for this morning's boat race: Mistress Tina to number 6, Master Paul to number 8, ..." and two or three other names were announced. My Mistress and Master Paul looked at Helen and me with broad grins and said, "OK kids, this is it! You're really going to have some fun!"

"Ooh!" cried Nicole excitedly. "You're in the boat race teams! You lucky things, it's ages since my number came up in the draw for crew members. But my Master and I always have a little bet on the result, and I always back the red boat; which are you on? ... Oh, you don't know yet -- well, anyway, try hard for me if you're on the red one. And maybe my Master will be too busy watching the race to think of sending many messages to me!"

As we left, Master Paul commented, "What a lovely and obedient slave she is! And what a clever way to use that long hair of hers!" He grinned at Helen. Pity your hair isn't as long ... or should we let it grow?" Helen replied quite seriously but with a smile, "I'm glad it isn't, Master!"

My Mistress and Master Paul followed the signs leading to the boat deck and Helen and I obediently followed them, wondering what this 'boat race' would be like. But just before we reached the deck, we had to take different routes because lifeboats 6 and 8 served different sections of the ship.

Lifeboat station 6 was a hive of activity when my Mistress and I arrived. The lifeboat itself had been removed and in its place was a much smaller lighter boat more like a large canoe. Masters and Mistresses were busy shackling slaves in a row along each side; the slaves had to kneel astride a narrow plank raised a foot or so above the deck their knees rested on (I could see that this meant they'd be unable to sit on their shackled heels and would only be able to 'rest' by sitting uncomfortably on the edge of the plank!).

I and another slave (a voluptuous redhead whose very large tits captured my attention and caused my cock to stand up hard!) were the last to take our places. But when, at the invitation of the officer orgainizing things, my Mistress led me forward, there seemed to be no places left in the two rows of kneeling naked paddlers! What was I to do?

The answer came soon enough! I was led to the stern of the boat where there was a tall post -- a mast, I guess! -- with a bright blue pennant flying at its top. Standing on a box with my back against this mast, I was bound very tightly to it by a harness which lifted me off the deck with strong straps under my crotch. My hands were fastened high over my head, but my legs were left free; what's more, my feet were below the keel! I wondered whether I was to do my bit by paddling with them?

My question was answered by the final touches to my bonds! A rudder was fitted between my feet, hinged on the mast, and my ankles were fastened into padded metal cuffs on the ends of a twelve-inch rod fixed across it. At the same time a network of cords was tied around my cock and balls, and two attached cords led to either side behind me.

My Mistress had disappeared behind me too; now I suddenly found her arms around me and her voice whispering in my ear. "D'you see the idea, slave?" she asked. "I'll be steering with these cords. When I pull on them ..." I felt a couple of tugs from each side "... I want you to turn the rudder with your legs. Let's practice a bit, shall we?"

So we did. At the same time a Mistress' voice on the boat behind me said, OK slaves, here are your paddles. Keep a good grip on them -- they won't be attached by shackles today -- if any of you lose yours overboard, there'll be a penalty whether we win or lose ... and we probably will lose if we're short of paddles. Ready? Here we go!"

Next thing I felt the boat lifting slowly into the air, then it swung out over the side of the ship, hesitated, and was lowered to the surface. In a moment we were free of the lifting cables and bobbing gently on the smooth water beside the ship.

Behind me another Mistress' voice called, "Right now, you galley-slaves, let's get your paddling arms warmed up. See if we can find a good smooth rhythm -- all together ... in ... pull ... out ... in..." And we were moving, slowly and a bit jerkily at first, but with steadily increasing speed and smoothness.

By this time I was beginning to wonder where the other boat was, presumably with Helen aboard, and whether she was paddling or acting as a rudder like I was. My Mistress murmured in my ear, "Look, slave, to your left!"; I turned my head and there she was ... the other boat gliding past in the opposite direction only a few yards away! And there she was too ... Helen, not paddling or acting as a rudder, but adorning the prow of the boat as a figurehead!

She looked magnificent! Her lovely naked body was angled forward, in the classic style of the figurehead; her arms and legs were drawn back and fastened with strong straps to support her; and she held her head high so that her firm breasts were thrust proudly forward. This gives a new meaning (I couldn't help thinking) to the idea of "breasting the waves"!

There were no waves, in fact; the surface was almost like glass as both boats glided over it, the crews warming up and getting the feel of our craft. Several times during these maneouvres the two boats circled each other; once Helen came within a few feet, facing me directly and moving quite slowly. She smiled brilliantly at me, obviously enjoying herself; and I smiled back, lost in admiration of her gorgeous body.

I also had a chance to look at the crew of 'Helen's' boat; just behind her sat Master Paul, whose main function seemed to be to reach out occasionally and caress those glorious outthrust tits. Behind him, between the two rows of six kneeling slaves wielding their paddles, sat two more Masters; both held long thin whips, which they used more to threaten than to beat the slaves. One of them was clearly the 'skipper', while the other concentrated on keeping the slaves paddling in unison. In the stern sat a Mistress, with a male slave tied to a mast just as I was; and she responded to directions from the 'skipper' to turn the boat by pulling on cords tied to the 'rudder' slave's cock and balls ... just as my Mistress was doing with me!

It wasn't hard to guess that my own boat was arranged in the same way ... and I suddenly realised that the curvy redheaded slave I'd noticed was almost certainly our figurehead! (I wished I could see how she looked; "She must be almost as sexy as Helen," I thought ... and the thought made my cock grow hard.) The only differences, as far as I could tell, were that my boat's skipper and 'slave-driver' were Mistresses and that Helen's boat had a red pennant on its mast instead of blue. (I remembered that Nicole had 'bet' on the red boat!)

I also had time to look at our surroundings. We were in a lovely tropical lagoon, about two hundred yards across and almost encircled by a white sandy beach and palm trees; the entrance was quite narrow and the cruise ship almost blocked it as it lay at anchor just offshore ... which accounted for the glassy smoothness of the surface.

The ship was close enough for the watchers on board to have a good view of the boat race, especially with binoculars. There were other spectators on the beach (closer than those on the ship but not so high) and still more on the two lifeboats which had been lowered to make room on the boat deck for the 'racing' boats. They were stationary, anchored somewhat less than a hundred yards apart near the centre of the lagoon, and their occupants would have by far the best view of the race ... because I could hear our 'skipper' telling her crew that we were to race around the lifeboats in a figure-eight pattern.

Our 'warming up' period ended when an officer on one of the lifeboats called us up to the start. Both boats were carefully positioned with our sterns close to that lifeboat and held there by a firm grip on the most convenient handles available ... my cock and that of my counterpart on the other boat! Then the 'starter' counted slowly down from ten and, on reaching zero, the grip on my cock was released and simultaneously someone else swung a large leather paddle sharply across my belly.

The sound of this blow, coinciding exactly with another from the 'red' boat, echoed across the lagoon like a rifle shot ... and the race was on!

'Our' paddlers got the better start and soon we held a half-length advantage over the other boat. But they improved their rhythm and began to make up the leeway; they were almost alongside when I suddenly felt my cock tugged firmly to my left ... which meant I was to turn the rudder hard in that direction, that is, away from the other boat.

I did my best, and our boat began to turn ... just as we came abreast of the second lifeboat. I realised that we'd been lucky enough to draw the 'inside lane', which gave us an advantage on this first turn; when we straightened up for the run back to the other lifeboat, there was a clear boat length between me and Helen at the front of the other boat. And my Mistress' voice murmured in my ear, "You did a good job of turning the rudder so sharply, slave; now all we have to do is stay in front!"

We did, for the next two 'legs' of the race -- back to the first lifeboat, around it and then retracing our course. The 'red' boat quickly made up the gap between us (it seemed they were clearly able to make better speed) but they made no attempt to overtake us, and were content to trail very close behind.

This, of course, meant that I was treated to the best possible view of their 'figurehead'! Helen's lovely naked body, bound so erotically with her firm breasts out-thrust and her legs astride the boat's bow, was rarely more than a few yards away. Despite all the action and exertion around me, my cock stood up and pointed at her! ... to the great amusement of Master Paul as he leaned over Helen's shoulder to keep his 'skipper' informed of how close we were.

On the third turn around a lifeboat, the other 'skipper' tried to cut inside us, but our skipper was ready for this and I was able to help by keeping our turn tight. The tactics changed on the next straight run; the paddlers on the other boat, spurred on by words of encouragement (and a few light flicks with the whip!), increased their speed in a real effort to overtake us. Helen and the whole of her boat went out of my view as they drew alongside and (I learned later) even a half length ahead.

But they couldn't get far enough ahead to cut across our bows before the next turn came up, and we still had the inside running. As we circled the lifeboat for the fourth time, my Mistress said in my ear, "Not too tight this time, slave; our skipper wants to force them into a wide curve instead of a straight run, and just try to keep between them and the finish line."

I tried to obey her instructions. In fact, the plan was working perfectly ... until suddenly, just as the other boat dropped to a length behind and Helen appeared at my side, their skipper shouted an order. The paddlers on our side of their boat immediately began paddling in reverse and the boat seemed to turn almost in its own length! And the timing was so precise that Helen's lovely outthrust tits came within a yard or so of my face as the bows of her boat swung towards the finish line!

That one clever manoeuvre decided the race. Facing backwards as I was, I didn't see the other boat cross the line; but I heard the victory shouts of its crew and it seemed a long time before our paddlers stopped their furious action and we coasted to a landing on the beach. Later I learned that the margin was about four boat lengths.

Although we'd lost, to my surprise I and the other slaves on our boat were released before those on the other boat. But I soon learned the reason for this -- we had to kneel in the shallows beside their boat and offer our backs as 'stepping stones' for them, owners and slaves alike, to reach the shore without getting their feet wet! This, my Mistress told me later, was an old tradition associated with the boat race.

The victorious crew were warmly applauded by the spectators on the beach. A few minutes later the spectators on the two lifeboats also came ashore and there was much good-natured banter between the Masters and Mistresses of the slaves who had crewed the boats. Wagers were settled, often with arrangements for the losing owner's slave to submit to a period of serving the winner that evening or some other time.

When my Mistress met up with Master Paul, the first thing he said to her was "I'll bet you're glad you didn't agree to use this race instead of our poker game! But you know, it has only put off the moment for a few hours, hasn't it?" She just smiled and replied, "Don't be too sure of that! In any case, I prefer to have only myself to blame if I do lose."

We -- Masters and Mistresses and slave boat crews -- spent the rest of the morning and the early afternoon on the beach, swimming and sunbathing and having a delicious picnic lunch. Some very clear distinctions were drawn between the winning and losing boat crews. For example, I and the other slaves from the losing boat had to wear at least ankle shackles the whole time, while the other slaves remained unshackled. Also, the winning Masters and Mistresses had first rights to the services (and the naked bodies!) of us losing slaves.

Interestingly enough, we weren't actually punished for losing the race; as it turned out, the only person to be punished for it was the last person I would have expected! Soon after the race ended, the Mistress who skippered our boat congratulated the other skipper on his tactics; then she continued, "I feel our loss was mostly my fault, being out-maneouvered like that, so I'm prepared to submit to slavery during your victory party as a sort of penance ... to apologise to my crew for letting them down."

The winning skipper looked at her in surprise, and so did everyone who was watching. After a moment's thought he replied with a friendly grin, "Well, I could hardly refuse an offer like that, could I? You might even be setting a precedent for future boat races! Now, are you quite sure you want to do this? Because, once you've submitted, I won't release you until just before we return to the ship ... and I might treat you a little worse than you expect! Well?" She hesitated, but then nodded firmly. "OK," he continued, "Strip!"

It took her only a moment to obey (she was only wearing a bikini) and her shapely body was naked to the view of Masters and Mistresses and slaves alike. Now he made her fit shackles on her own ankles, then he tied her hands tightly but quite comfortably behind her back.

"Now," he went on, "your first task as my temporary slave is to go to each member of your crew (not the slaves, of course, they don't count), kneel and apologise ... and ask if they would like to give you a few strokes with a paddle." She obeyed and of course my Mistress and the other two 'officers' were only too happy to oblige! They each gave her five good hard strokes on her shapely buttocks as she bent over the trunk of a fallen palm-tree.

For the rest of the picnic she was quite the centre of attention. It was rare for any Masters or Mistresses on the ship to submit to public nakedness and slavery; they liked to play at being superior to us slaves! So everybody (not least we slaves!) watched her humiliation with great interest: she had to serve the other skipper with food and drink; he constantly played with her naked body and brought her to a climax at least once; and he made her give oral service to the two non-rowing slaves on his winning boat -- my opposite number and of course Helen. (For the rest of the cruise Helen bragged to me about having been eaten by a Mistress!)

We slaves, of course, (especially those from the losing boat!) had to submit to the usual treatment given to slaves. Some of this was in the form of games, with slaves playing against slaves or against Masters and Mistresses (in this case, the slaves always had a handicap that was very difficult to overcome!). There were races of various kinds, which invariably involved some bondage or other for the slaves!

Sometimes, however, this bondage was anything but unpleasant ... like when I and the figurehead slave from our boat were pitted against Helen and my counter-part from hers. I found myself tied very tightly, face to face with the voluptuous redhead who had graced the prow of our boat; her large breasts pressed against my chest and my prick got hard as it was tied between her firm thighs, and our wrists were fastened behind the other's back by straps which allowed my hands to rest on the generous curves of her bottom.

Helen and her crew-mate were similarly bound, then we were laid on our sides on the warm sand. Our owners knelt beside us and told us that the idea was for us to roll over and over down the sloping beach into the shallows. "Your legs are free to give you some control," said my Mistress. "Once you start rolling, it'll probably be best to keep them straight and close together." And they gave us a push to start us off.

It was over too quickly! I was greatly enjoying the sensation of lying alternately on and under the sexy curves of the slave-girl I was bound to, when we splashed into the warm water of the lagoon and willing hands caught us. My companion and I had won, rescuing some honour for our boat; we were untied and allowed to watch while the losers were given a few strokes with a light cat-o'-nine-tails across their bottoms while still tied. I almost wished we'd lost!

At one point I was 'claimed' by the Mistress whose slave had acted as the 'rudder' on the other boat; leading me into the nearby sand-dunes, she found a secluded hollow where she made me lie face down and tied my wrists and ankles in a loose hogtie. Then she moved about ten yards away and spread out a towel.

"I want to improve my all-over tan," she said as she stripped off her swim-suit and lay down. "But, as you can see, my pussy is shaved and can't be exposed to the sun for too long. So ... I expect you to help by coming here and covering it with your head. If you take too long and it gets burnt..."

Her tan looked perfectly even to me, but of course I had little choice but to obey! My bondage was loose enough to enable me to move across the sand by wriggling and humping my hips up and down with my knees; the former was slower but my chest and belly were constantly rubbed by the sand, while the latter was faster but no more comfortable because my cock and balls took the shock as my hips came down after each 'hump' forward! And this was made worse by the hard-on I soon had at the sight of my destination ...

She lay on her back, an amused smile on her face, and gently caressed her slim naked body; her legs were towards me and spread wide, and I could clearly see the end of my little journey centred between them ... with no thatch of curly hair on her pussy, the lips of her cunt pouted invitingly and her prominent clit even peeped from between them. It seemed a lot longer, but I guess it was about ten minutes before I reached her, panting a little, and shaded her pussy with my head.

"Good slave!" she complimented me warmly. "Now you get a small reward. Let's see what you can do with your tongue!"

I'm always only too willing to obey that command! In a moment my lips were feeling smooth flesh where they usually found hair, and my tongue was tracing the shape of her vulva and seeking out her sensitive clit. But this time it was different in another way, too; my cock was getting harder with the excitement, and I could almost feel it burrowing into the soft sand I lay on!

The Mistress soon had a climax and clutched my head with her thighs as she moaned in pleasure. After a moment's rest, she stood up and rolled me onto my back, saying: "That was nice, slave; now my bottom needs some sun too, but you needn't stop what you're doing!" ... and she carefully spread her towel over me to save getting sand on her precious skin, I suppose!) before lying face down on it and presenting her pussy to my willing mouth again.

She wasn't completely selfish and heartless, though; while her bottom was "getting some sun," she used a moist cloth to gently wipe the sand from my poor cock and fondled it sensuously until it was as hard as an iron bar and aching for an orgasm. But I was hardly surprised when she didn't let me come, although she herself had another climax by courtesy of my hard-working lips and teeth and tongue. Ah, such is the life of a slave!

When we rejoined the picnickers, my Mistress was intrigued by my red knees and chest and (especially!) cock. On learning the cause, she showed great care in helping me wash the sand off ... but I noticed the corners of her mouth twitching and her eyes sparkling, and I couldn't help smiling with her!

----------------------------------------