A beach bar

Diana sets off at a brisk pace and you hurry to follow her, then turn around and run back to grab the bags and other stuff she left behind, before racing to catch up. She pays no attention, trusting you to take care of the menial work.

You pass a group of slaves lying at the waterline, where the waves wash over their faces. A mistress stands watch over them, strapping the breasts or belly of any who raise their heads out of the water to breathe. A few other owners look on from steamer chairs, but some of the slaves seem to be there on their own. Further on, two tall, tanned women are engaging in a tug of war using a chain attached to their nipple clamps. Two fit men are being prepared for the next bout by having their testicles tied together by a giggling older woman.

Your girlfriend leads you back up towards the promenade and into a beach bar with walls on three sides and the fourth almost entirely open to the sand (there are metal shutters to close it up at night). There are several tables scattered around, both indoors and out, along with different types of bondage equipment. One curvy young woman about your age has been tightly bound on her knees with her back bent acutely, so that her abdomen can be used as a table. Another, a very thin blonde, is cuffed between two pillars at wrist and ankle, her master whipping her back with circular movements of a light flogger. You head straight for the bar, however. Diana takes one of the high stools and pats another to show she wants you to sit, rather than standing or kneeling by her side like many of the slaves present.

There are three bar staff, one man and two women, one of whom is wearing a **** collar like yours, only made of a red leather substitute, instead of your black or the white of an unclaimed submissive. This surprises you for a moment, until you "remember" reading about it in the brochure. Submissive staff members may choose to wear a collar whilst on or off duty. These are permanently set to green, like the collars of singletons, but they can never be claimed by guests. She's quite pretty, with short black hair and striking green eyes, but the other woman (short, black, big boobs barely contained in a colourful sleeveless T-shirt) is the one serving your section of the bar.

Whilst your mistress peruses the menu, you think it best to keep your eyes on her, rather than risk censure by looking around and appearing too curious. However, this allows you to see two women in their thirties sitting a few stools over, each with a male ****. One is in his fifties with the physique of a bodybuilder and a throbbing purple penis which his mistress is stroking constantly, the other much younger, maybe not quite twenty, very pale and with a slight build. The older man grunts, gritting his teeth as he reaches the edge of orgasm and the woman immediately lets go, massaging her wrist until he manages to get himself back under control, then resuming her slow, relentless masturbation.

"Is your arm okay?" You can't help overhearing her companion's question.

"Yeah, I want to keep him hard for as much of this holiday as I can, because he said the worst part about chastity was going a whole year without an erection. I assumed the lack of orgasms would be worse, but—"

"A whole year?"

"Yes, the resort has a keyholding service, so…"

Diana snorts with laughter and nudges you, pointing to the slaves' section of the menu, her finger indicating the availability of both male and female urine, the latter costing three times a much. A few lines below, edible detergent is offered. She looks at you to gauge your reaction.

"Well, Jenna, do you fancy a pint of pee with a liquid soap chaser?" You make a face and she giggles, then orders you each something with gin in it from the owners' menu. The bartender pours the drinks immediately and you're just taking the first, welcome sip, when the boy with the older mistress shrieks and collapses to the floor, clutching his scrotum.

"How dare you call me that? I'm not your girlfriend, I'm your mistress and you will address me as such." She sounds furious. "If I tell you to keep my friend's **** hard by sucking his cock, you'll do it," she continues. "I will not tolerate homophobia and while we're on the subject, if I decide to lock yours in a cage and leave the keys here, that is exactly what will happen and if you give me any trouble I may decide to wait two years before I come back and let them unlock you. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, mistress, I'm sorry mistress, I'll do anything you say mistress," he sobs, continuing to cradle his balls.

"Oh, Jenna," Diana whispers to you, "I thought I was being too strict with you, but maybe I'm not strict enough. Would you like me to treat you more like that?"

"N-no, mistress," you reply, blushing, "not unless it would please you to."

You lock eyes and she leans in to reach between your legs.

"You're soaking…okay. Change of plan. I'm drinking both of these. You go to the toilet while I prepare something."

"What, here?" You gesture to the bar and your mistress stares at you witheringly. She picks up something that looks like a wooden handgun from the bar and puts the barrel over your right nipple. When she pulls the trigger, the most awful agony engulfs you. Looking down, you expect to see blood, but there's only a rapidly forming weal. You've never put your nipple in a mousetrap before, but you don't suppose it would be any more painful that what's just happened.

"Well, Jenna, are you going to keep being silly or just do as I say?"

"No, mistress, I'm sorry mistress, I'll do as you say, mistress." You stand up hurriedly, blinking away tears. Even outside the resort, your girlfriend would have chastised you for that sort of comment, the only difference being the punishment would probably have been spread over your bottom rather than concentrated into one very small, very sensitive area. It's only when you're half way to the ladies' that you realize you said almost exactly the same as the boy did. At least you weren't writhing on the floor at the time.