Mar 302007
 

“I can’t do it,” Alisha said. “There is no way. I’m going to have to tell Kevin I can’t do it.”

“If you do that, you’ll have to leave!” Cassie said.

Alisha looked out at the crowd. “Are you telling me you can do it?”

Cassie didn’t know what to say. That was the question, wasn’t it? She and Alisha looked out at the large gathering of men and women standing around the stage in the bar. It was nighttime, which meant over half of them were drunk already. The crowd was made up of college students like Alisha and Cassie, but right now they looked wild and savage.

“Contest starts in 10 minutes,” a voice announced over the loudspeaker.

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“God, why did Kevin have to enter us in a wet T-shirt contest?” Alisha moaned.

“Because it scares us so much,” Cassie said.

It did put the entire day into perspective, though. They’d had their morning spanking and their breakfast and spent the rest of the day on the beach. There wasn’t a single hint of BDSM or domination after the spanking. They played in the water while Kevin and Julia read books. They ate lunch at a restaurant and came back in the afternoon to do chores. Even the chores were laid back, without the usual supervision. Cassie was almost in danger of getting bored when Kevin announced that they were going to go out that night.

Alisha gritted her teeth. “It doesn’t bother Melinda or Danielle any. Look at them. They’re laughing and flirting with the stagehand.

Cassie shrugged. “Melinda’s in sports; she gets in front of people all the time. Danielle … I can’t picture her getting nervous over anything except being ignored.”

“That’s true,” Alisha said. “It wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for this stupid outfit! I mean, just look at it!”

It was a pretty tawdry choice of clothes. Contestants were required to wear the clothes that the bar provided: a pair of cut-off jean shorts and a nearly transparent white T-shirt. The girls were allowed to wear their own panties, but bras were strictly forbidden. For Cassie and Alisha, the worst part about the outfit was how tight the shorts were. The round girls had a hard time getting them buttoned, and both of them thought the shorts made their asses look gigantic.

“I look like a fat cow,” Alisha moaned.

Cassie realized that she should be freaking out, too, but for some reason, she wasn’t. She considered that maybe subconsciously she was more of an exhibitionist than she’d imagined, but she knew that wasn’t true. It occurred to her that maybe her desire to please Kevin had magically wiped away her fears about walking out on that stage. Cassie realized that was bullshit, too. What was keeping her from panicking was the fact that Alisha was freaking out enough for both of them.

“I don’t get it,” Cassie said. “Since you do that blogging thing, I thought you were used to exposing yourself. You told me once that you do some sort of picture thing every week.”

“That is completely different!” Alisha said. “I take 100 pictures and then post the best one. I know how fat my ass is, and I make sure the only time people see it is when it looks perfect.”

“That doesn’t sound very submissive,” Cassie said. “I mean, you’re controlling everything. Don’t you think doing something like this is much more like submission?”

Alisha chewed on one of her nails. “You don’t know what it’s like being a submissive and being black. I’ve had to leave chat rooms because white guys just wanted me to act like a ball-busting bitch. I’ve had other black people tell me how wrong I am for wanting to be a sub because of slavery. When I do find a guy online who wants me as a sub, the only thing he seems to care about is that I’m black, like I’m some new game he wants to try.”

Cassie nodded in sympathy. “What does this have to do with the wet T-shirt contest?”

“I don’t want to go out there and be the fat black girl at a white spring-break contest!” Alisha said.

“Then don’t,” Cassie said.

Alisha looked at her. “You think I should tell Kevin I’m quitting?”

“No,” Cassie said. “I think you should go out there as his submissive. Don’t be a black girl, and don’t be a blogger who picks what the world gets to see. Be a scared-shitless submissive girl who is going to get her chest wet because her dom told her to. You just said people judge you all the time. Aren’t you looking forward to a chance to be judged by someone you at least respect? And damn it, he fucked you last night instead of me, so maybe you should show him that he made the right choice!”

Alisha was a little stunned. “Oh, Cassie, I’m sure he’ll fuck you tonight.”

“He’d better!” Cassie snapped. “That’s the only thing that’s going to get me through this!”

Alisha laughed. “OK, maybe you’re right. Hell, it’ll be something to blog about when I get home.”

“There you go,” Cassie said.

A guy came over to the girls. “Start lining up, ladies. Remember, no pulling your shirts off. Winner gets a trophy and 50 bucks!”

Danielle was first in line, which didn’t surprise her fellow submissives at all. The tall blonde strutted out on the stage as though she had already won. The crowd went wild, eager to see the proud blonde get doused in water. Danielle lifted her arms and wiggled her hips with every step. She soaked in the cheers as though they were her due.

When she came to the water guy, she put her hands behind her back and popped her chest out. The pitcher of water hovered over her chest, and with a sudden flip, all of its contents were spilled onto Danielle’s breasts. She screamed as the cold water hit her but then started laughing as though it were the greatest thing ever. Danielle turned to the crowd and struck a few poses to show off her transparent shirt. She soaked in the crowd’s attention till the host asked her to take her place in line.

“Fuck, I can’t do that,” Alisha said.

“Danielle’s mom made her do beauty pageants,” Cassie said.

“Really?” Alisha said. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, it’s what bored rich wives do, apparently,” Cassie said. “They dress their daughters up and make them go to pageants. Danielle told me it wasn’t till her mom got into dog breeding that she was allowed to quit.”

“I guess sometimes it sucks to be the rich kid,” Alisha said. “Still, she looks like a natural out there.”

“Are you going to let some beauty queen impress Kevin without showing him what you can do?” Cassie asked.

“Hell, no,” Alisha said.

One by one, the contestants walked onstage. Cassie couldn’t get over how damned skinny most of them were. It made her insecure till she realized how flat-chested most of them were, too. Back home, they might get all the dates, but out here on the Cancun wet T-shirt stage, they lacked the one thing the boys wanted to see: tits. Cassie grew more confident and yet a bit more scared. Having tits meant that everyone was going to be staring at her.

Melinda went in like a gladiator, detached and aloof. She looked straight at the crowd as her chest was drenched. Dripping water, she did a few jumping jacks till her shirt threatened to ride up her chest. She walked to the line as calmly as could be, as if she were waiting to be picked for a game of basketball.

Alisha went in terrified, walking straight to the water guy and closing her eyes. The crowd went wild as her brown tits were revealed by the wet T-shirt. Alisha looked out into the crowd and blew Kevin a kiss. It was her way of letting him know that this was for him. She broke a smile as she walked mechanically back to the line. Cassie could tell that her friend was terribly proud of herself despite the terror.

It was Cassie’s turn. If Alisha could do it, so could she. She stepped up onto the stage and looked out at the crowd. It seemed so much bigger once she was onstage. Hundreds of eyes were focused on her, examining her body, picturing her naked and picturing her having sex. At least, that’s how it felt to Cassie.

She willed her body to move. Putting one leg in front of the other, she focused on the guy with the water pitcher. The people in the audience ceased to exist as individuals and just became a single large mass. The crowd — not the horny drunken college guys who usually ignored her — cheered and whistled. The crowd — not the men and women in it — was her audience.

Cassie knew the water would be cold, but she still wasn’t prepared for the shock. It stung, making her breasts feel as though they were in one giant clamp and then released. Her nipples became hard points clearly visible under the T-shirt. She shivered, which made her breasts bounce from side to side. The crowd roared its approval, and Cassie kept shaking them. Kevin was in that crowd, and therefore, Kevin was the one cheering her jiggling. As the cheers washed over her, Cassie understood how Danielle could be so fearless. There was euphoria as well as sex in that applause. She felt like a sex object, like the most desirable woman in the world, if only for a minute. Their cheers felt like 100 doms telling her to come to their bedrooms tonight.

She didn’t remember walking back to the line. Vaguely, she recalled that the girl who won was some blonde with obviously fake breasts. Losing was meaningless to Cassie. She had survived the contest and even had a little fun with it. Alisha was talking constantly about something, but Cassie couldn’t hear her. All she could think about was the way the crowd made her feel — and the fact that every girl had been invited to Kevin’s room except her. Tonight was her turn. She expected so, anyway, but she wouldn’t let herself believe it. Standing on that stage, she had believed it.

The ride home was a dream. Walking into the house was like walking back onstage. When Kevin approached the girls in the living room, Cassie thought her heart was going to explode. She was ready to be claimed like the prize she was.

“Goodnight, girls,” Kevin said. “Get some sleep. You all did very well tonight.”

And Kevin and Julia left the room. Upstairs the couple went as Cassie stared in shock.

She wasn’t going with them, and she had no idea why.

To be continued.

  13 Responses to “Fiction: BDSM Beach Part Nine”

  1. Aww, poor Cassie… I think she should be honest and speak up, maybe he’ll have mercy on her poor, abused self.

    (Can’t wait for the next one. Bah, I should write something myself soon.)

  2. t’sade- You and me both, I got a story whole and complete in my head but blank pages on the screen.

    Poor Cassie indeed.

  3. Heh, I have a small program on my desktop called Tomboy which lets me keep track of notes. One whole page is dedicated to plot ideas and stories I want to write. My problem is sitting down and giving myself the 2-4 hours I need to write one. I just get distracted with that work thing, programming, and all my other activities in life. :)

  4. t’sade- I have a notebook on my desk for just that purpose. Sometimes when I REALLY want to annoy myself, I’ll flip through it and see all the ideas I haven’t gotten to yet.

  5. Poor Cassie, she appears to have the best comprehension of what is going on and how to behave and keeps getting put off. Hmmm…bet it’s deliberate on Kevin’s part.

    Waiting for more, patiently

  6. I’m guessing it’s very deliberate on Kevin’s part. It will be interesting to see what happens next.

  7. Musns- It sucks to be the smartest sub in the room. or is she?

    Lisaveta- That’s two votes for deliberate!

  8. Why is Kevin deliberately torturing her? Poor Cassie…

    And yeah, I have an inkling of why. *sigh* The lot of a sub with a devious dom.

  9. yummy anticipation!

  10. asian librarian- You have an inkling? Feel free to share your thoughts on the ‘devious dom’.

    sarengetty- anticipation is always double yummy here :)

  11. I hate the weekends – nothing new….anticipation is great but not for days at a time.

  12. I love reading this series as much as the previous one. You’re able to crawl into a submissive’s head and understand the extreme disappointment when things don’t seem to go the way you expect them too…and the inevitable inner conflict when you realize it’s your job to endure it.

  13. musns- This is why it is so important to have a weekend poject to keep you busy; like taking 227 pictures of Peeps.

    la rosa- You know, I felt like dirt after writing this chapter. It was the closest I had ever come to guilt from writing.

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