3.

Gemma woke up the following morning, felt how hungover she was, drank a glass of water, shut the blinds and went back to bed with the covers pulled over her head.

By the time she felt okay enough to be vertical again, it was noonish. Rachelle hadn’t texted her, and she hoped her friend was ok, but couldn’t remember why she was worried. The previous night was a blur after about cocktail #3 at the staff party—Gemma was half surprised she’d woken up in her own bed. And she’d woken up wearing headphones, like she’d decided to listen to music once she’d got back to her room. Ah, well, whatever. She’d done way stupider things after a big night.

Now the day was getting away from her, and, hangover or not, that wouldn’t do. The beach was waiting, and she wanted to get her tan on. It was another perfect sunny day as she climbed onto one of the big canvas chairs, though the beach was busy and she couldn’t get a spot as far from the bustle as she would’ve liked.

Before she got too comfy, she checked her phone. She’d sent Rachelle a couple more texts, just to make sure, and her friend had finally replied.

Awesome time last night!! Thanks for coming!

Ok, then. Gemma let go of the nebulous worry she’d had about Rachelle and got serious about her tan. She opened the resort’s special music app, remembering how enjoyable their mix had been the first time… and was surprised to see it was on Track 6 of the playlist, when she’d only tanned to Track 1 the day before.

She thought back to the headphones she was still wearing when she’d awakened that morning. It seemed a waste to have listened to music meant for tanning while she slept through the night indoors, but there were fifteen tracks on the playlist. She could always go back to the ones she’d missed if she wanted.

Gemma hit Play on Track 6 and lay back, eyes closed behind her sunglasses, letting the warmth and the music both soak deep into her body.

She was drifting in a strange, erotic dream. Was she still on the beach? She could hear the surf and voices, but they didn’t matter. What mattered were the bodies—hot, naked men’s bodies—and how they were touching her, and how she was touching them. How their cocks felt thrusting into her and how it just felt so right to touch and stroke and suck and fuck, and how she couldn’t help touching herself all over when she thought about serving and pleasing these men. Men who had no faces or names, but she knew, with the nonrational certainty of dreams, that they were Owners.

And Owners were important. Owners made the rules. Owners were the focus of all her desire.

She had so much desire…

Gemma came to when the voice told her it was time to turn over, and she realized what she’d been fantasizing right there on the beach. She grew hot with embarrassment on top of the heat of the sun and the heat… elsewhere. As she flipped onto her front, she could tell she was soaking wet under her bikini bottoms and once again cursed the fact she couldn’t find a more secluded spot to tan in. Of all the bad times to have such a sexy fucking dream…

It left her horny like dreams rarely did, too. Lying on her front, as the music flowed over and through her, was a sweet sort of torture. The most sensitive parts of her body were now pressed against the rough canvas and it was all she could do to keep herself from humping the fabric… how would that look to the other tourists on the beach? But she was so close to just arching her ass up so she could reach between her legs and take the edge off.

The thought of masturbating in public, especially in such a vulnerable pose, should have chilled her arousal. But it didn’t. In fact, another realization took precedence, far more frightening. And it didn’t cool her down, either:

Gemma couldn’t move.

It wasn’t just that she wanted to avoid rubbing against the canvas or fingerfucking herself in public; she tried to adjust her position and found her body was locked in place. It simply wouldn’t listen to her.

What the fuck is going on??

In a moment she’d gone from desperate not to be noticed to wanting to call out for help, but she couldn’t speak. She was trapped in her own body, and only the throbbing arousal interrupting her thoughts blunted the terror.

Gemma struggled, but you wouldn’t have known it to look at her. For a moment the music in her ears loomed into the centre of her awareness, and just as she was wondering if it could somehow have something to do with her sudden paralysis, she felt an orgasm build between her legs and explode up through her whole body. That body, however, hardly twitched, and no one could have heard the tiny moan that escaped.

And Gemma failed to be embarrassed by this involuntary climax, because, as soon as she came, her mind went blank.

She woke in her bed, with no memory of how she’d gotten there, for the second time in 24 hours. This would have worried Gemma, but the only thing she could think about was the pulsing between her legs. She forgot to recollect her time tanning and the strange paralysis that had gripped her; all that mattered was touching and squeezing and rubbing her naked body. She’d ditched her bikini near the door of the room. The first orgasm came quickly, but that wasn’t enough for her, not today. She slid two fingers into her cunt, driven even deeper into squirming lust by the sound of how wet she was, and she didn’t care if the neighbours heard her moan as she threw her head back on the pillow and fucked her hand til she came again.

And it still wasn’t enough. She got on all fours and stuck her ass in the air, wiggling back and forth like she was begging an Owner A what? Ohhhfuck… that feels so good to grab her and fuck her from behind. But all she had were her fingers; her travel vibe was still in her suitcase and damned if she was going to stop touching long enough to get it.

As she approached the next orgasm, Gemma buried her face between the pillows. The wired headphones in her ears ran down to the resort’s music player, and its screen now read Track 10.

Gemma woke the next morning feeling blissful. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so deeply and so well.

She couldn’t remember being paralyzed and tormented by sexual fantasies while suntanning, either. The past few days blurred together into a pleasant haze of vacation. Gemma dug the music player out from between the pillows and made her bed, humming happily to herself.

It was another perfect sunny morning and she couldn’t wait to get her tan on. Only a ravenous hunger convinced her to stop at the breakfast buffet before she hit the beach.

Today’s lounge chair was nice and secluded and she lay back, her skin slick with tanning oil and already warmed by the tropical sun. The music player was offering a new playlist, which it claimed had special selections just for her, though she assumed it told that to everyone. Gemma shut her eyes behind her shades and sank into the music, plunging into the delicious dream of heat that wasn’t just the sunshine warming her body. Another fire, this one sexual, was already growing deep inside her and she gave herself up to it with a moan.

If anyone on the beach could see her squirm, or surrender to the need to slide her hands under her bikini and rub in time to the bewitching music, Gemma was far too deep in her trance to care. The music carried her far away, to an indistinct dreamscape where she knelt and posed and squirmed on a huge white bed, while men admired and ogled and photographed and touched and handled and fucked her.

She couldn’t see any of their faces, but it didn’t matter. Lost in a haze, she cared only for their hot muscular bodies, warm, hard, lusting, needing her. She’d never felt like such a sexual object in her life, and it was beyond wonderful.

Her bikini bottoms were soaked by the time she rose from the canvas lounge chair and drifted like a sleepwalker towards the promenade of townhouses where the guests, staff, and Owners stayed. Her obvious arousal would have embarrassed her, but, also like a sleepwalker, her mind was lost in erotic dreams. Her eyes were wide and glassy behind her mirrored sunglasses, the music whispering promises of pleasure into her receptive brain.

To Be Continued…