Chapter 4: Cruising the Coast Highway

Chapter 4: Cruising the Coast Highway

Let me further define the situation for you so that the events that transpired over the next few weeks and that I’m about to relate, will make sense.

Sara lives in that big house with, strangely enough, a step-mother and a step-father. Most people get one or the other, but for Sara, her biological father ran off when she was little and her mom married another man. That lasted until Sara was eleven years old and her mother passed on. About a year later, her step-father remarried. That left Sara with two step-parents. See?

Sara’s real mother was married as a trophy wife. Which is where Sara gets her good looks and very fine figure.

Her step-mom is a nice, if somewhat meek, woman. But she had one very attractive feature: she was rich as Midas. Sara’s step-father was a businessman who had suffered some business reversals and undoubtedly married for the money. He looks a lot like an overweight Arnold Schwarzenegger. I think he had a lot of German or, like the real Arnold, Austrian blood in him. He married Sara’s step-mom because he wanted a meek and rich wife. And he got both in Rebecca. If nothing else, the woman in question was fairly good looking but with all the backbone of a jellyfish. But she was richer than many small countries.

Both Sara and her step-mom are true blondes, tend to wear their hair shoulder length and fashioned regularly by the most expensive hairdressers in town. Both have intense blue eyes and a sweet smile. The main difference between them is that Sara inherited her biological father’s intelligence and love of adventure. The new mother was dumber than a dish of cold oatmeal. At least that was the impression I got of her. Sara felt protective towards this new mother. She told me once that Rebecca needed protection from her new husband.

Relations between Sara and her step-father weren’t always on the sweet side. She told me that shortly after she graduated from high school, he tied to hit on her. She shot him down in no uncertain terms but after that he showed marked coolness to her. He did mention a few times that she should be sent off to a university in some distant land, but she fought that idea. She wanted to go to a local college, partly so we could be together. We planned to take a year off then pick a local university to attend.

So there we are. Sara lives at home with a step-father she didn’t like, and a meek step-mother, but was not anxious to leave because his wealth afforded her a comfy lifestyle. And she worried about her step-mother. Not that there was any physical abuse (I don’t think), but Horst (his name) mentally dominated the poor woman’s life. Fortunately there was little chance that Horst would dump his wife. He was too busy spending her money on travel and expensive cars, not to mention saving his failing business. A divorce would be messy and expensive, and would cut off the flow of money.

Fortunately for Sara and me, Horst and his wife were always off to someplace for business or pleasure. At times Sara had trouble remembering what country they were currently in. But it worked out well for us. We had that big house all to ourselves most of the time. Which was perfect for our kinky games.

There was a four car garage where we screwed some iron rings into the rafters and walls so we could play suspension games and such. On the grounds there was a small forest, mostly oak trees, but quite private. We had a couple favorite trees for bondage, and both of us had occasionally spent a whole night restrained in that forest. Of course, there was the poles in the patio, and a wonderful railing on the main staircase that was made of quite solid wood.

To be sure, we didn’t always use poles and such around the house for our games. Being tied on a bed or the floor was not uncommon at all. And we didn’t always confine our activities to the house and grounds. For example, the next day after my pole-and-hot-sauce torture, I decided that it was such a beautiful day that we should go for a little drive along the seashore.

I told Sara to meet me in the garage. In there was her Mercedes but also a convertible BMW and two other, quite expensive cars. I went to the garage with a handful of ropes and stood there trying to decide if the Mercedes or BMW would be better for our little outing. It being a sunny day, it would be only natural for the top to be down on the BMW. Which would expose Sara for others to see, but there were ways of preventing anyone from knowing that she was tied up.

I heard the door behind me and turned to find that Sara was one step ahead of me. She walked into the garage wearing nothing but a pair of high heels and a smile. I smiled back.

It did not take long for Sara to be prepared for the drive. First her arms were bound behind her back. I chose a loose reverse prayer. That’s where the hands are pulled up on the back and bound there. A true reverse prayer had the hands tied palm to palm and the elbows tied together. That is one hell of a great way to be tied because not only is escape impossible but it makes you feel as if your hands and arms have been taken away from you. For this version, I only crossed her wrists and tied them up between her shoulder blades. Then more rope was tied around the elbows, pulling them towards each other. With the wrists crossed, there was no way I could force the elbows to touch, and I didn’t try. But I did pull them toward each other until they were only a few inches apart. That added a lot to the strain on her bound wrists. When I knotted the rope, her arms were quite solidly tied. She would not be freeing herself from that, no matter how long or hard she tried.

I opened the door to the BMW. Sara looked at me with surprise on her face. “The top is down,” she pointed out. “Are you going to put it up?”

Her question was reasonable. She was currently naked and driving around with the top down would certainly invite comment. And possibly arrest for indecent exposure. It would be exciting but a bit too risky.

“No, I think it’s too beautiful a day to not enjoy the sunshine,” I told her.

She wiggled her breasts at me and smiled. “So what are you going to do about these?” she asked.

“What? Are you ashamed of them?”

Her reply was to step over to me and rub them against me. It was inviting but I had my heart set on a nice drive along the coast.

“I’ll be right back.” I dashed upstairs to fetch a garment that we had modified for just such occasions. It was a vest, sort of. Made from a silky, dark blue material, it was opaque enough to not show details but lightweight enough so that her nipples would be obvious as they tried to poke through the material. The front was totally open and held together only by a single ribbon. When it was on, it showed a fair amount of skin, including the insides of her breasts, but hid (sort of) the nipples.

Sara watched as I put it on her and tied the ribbon.

“Is that all?” was her only comment. She thrust her pussy against my leg as a means of reminding me that she was still naked from the waist down.

I held up the second garment. It was the bottom from one of her two piece bikinis. A very brief bikini. A string bikini, actually. The material would cover only her public patch – if she had one. We both keep ourselves shaved and clean down there. Makes it easier to play our games.

I held it while she stepped into it. “Now you’re properly dressed,” I told her. She frowned but said nothing. Being healthy, good looking young women, we both liked to show off our bodies. If you’re not a woman with a good figure, you don’t know how much fun it is to tease men.

It’s not that we dislike men. They’re useful for some things.