Start reading on 3 September

A bit more today but I am finding myself easily distracted this week

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Ayden obediently complies, quickly dropping the ladle back into the bucket making a slight plopping sound and splashing a few drops of water onto the floor below.  The old man tilts his head and shakes it.  Ayden is almost sure she sees him roll his eyes at her, but there is a smile on his face.  “Are you in a hurry, Girlie?” he asks making her blush.  “Come over here and tell me what you think of this,” he says as he takes the piece of metal he has been working on and  holds it out in her direction.

“It is very pretty,” she stammers, “but what is it?”

“It is a collar.  Put it on, please,” he tells her very directly.

Ayden just stands there perplexed.  Slowly she extends her hand to take it, but then withdraws from it.  Her hand flutters up to rest at her neck.  “You mean like a dog collar,” she hesitates and then adds, “for humans?” her voice rising to a high squeak, purely out of surprise.

The old man smiles and nods his head in approval, “Yes, but this one is special.”

“How?” she asks inquisitively, twisting her head to get a better look at the delicate scrolls of gold that twist around beautiful pink jewels.  She has never seen anything quite like it.  It is beautiful and she suddenly longs for it to be hers.

“You will have to put it on and see,” he teases.

As she reaches out to touch it he snatches it out of her reach.  Ayden looks up at him, shocked, feeling the disappointment wash over her, but then sees the smile spread across his face as he begins to laugh.  She cannot help but smile too and eventually starts to laugh along with him.  His laugh is pleasant and infectious.  When they have both had a good laugh and the mood has calmed he looks her in the eye and inquires, “Are you now ready to do as you are asked and put this on?”  Ayden simply nods at him unable to hold back her smile.

When he motions for her to move closer she takes a step forward and he reaches around and fastens the collar around her neck securing it in place.  Her hand instinctively reaches up to touch it as the cold metal begins to warm against her skin.  The gentle old man leans back in his chair, his arms folded, appraising his handiwork.  “It suits you,” he says simply.  Ayden blushes and cannot hold his gaze; her eyes drop to his feet, but she can feel him still looking at her.  She peeks up to see if he is still watching her and sees his eyes slide over the curves of her body, feeling subconscious she tugs at the bottom of her tee shirt willing it to cover just a little more; to hide her from his eyes that are studying her; looking through her to her very soul; drawing her to him.

“What?” she finally blurts out, angry at her cheeks that she can feel turning red and angry at her nipples that are growing hard, and angry at the desire growing between her legs that she does not even understand.

“Nothing,” he stops again just watching her, “It is just that you are one of the most perfect visions of a vessel submissive that I have seen in many years.  I want to possess you and it would please me if you would call me Master; Master Hunter.  Will you do that?”

A lump forms in Ayden’s throat making it impossible to speak.  Here is a man she has just met asking her to wear a collar, to call him Master.  She thinks to herself, “Did he just call me a vessel sub too?”  Her mind swirls and she feels like she is tumbling under the waves again.  The yearning in her belly wins the battle raging in her and she manages to choke out, “Yes,” meekly.

“I am sorry I did not hear that,” he says putting a hand to his ear and leaning forward again.

Ayden clears her throat and swallows hard and tries again a little louder, “Yes.”

Again he is shaking his head at her and Ayden bites her lower lip.  “No, no,” he says a little frustration edging into his voice, “You will address me as Master Hunter every time you speak to me,” he explains emphasizing, “Master Hunter.”

She pauses rolling the words around in her mind and smiles sweetly towards him and in a soft voice says, “Yes Master Hunter,” feeling amazingly fulfilled at that moment.

“That is much better.  It is late and we will begin your training in the morning, but for now do you have any questions for me?” he inquires of her.

“Yes, a million,” she says.  “I just don’t know what they are yet,” she admits.  He just smiles at her, waiting silently until she remembers and corrects herself, “Yes, Master Hunter, I have a million questions, but do not know where to start,” then suddenly a question occurs to her.  She asks, “Master Hunter, why do you want me to call you Master Hunter?  I thought your name was Laothoe.”

“Why would you think that?” he asks puzzled.

Turning and pointing towards the front of the shop she says, “The sign out front.  It says Laothoe’s Artisan.”  She turns back to him as he arches his eyebrow and she gulps out, “Master Hunter… Sir.”

“Better,” he says with a smile. “Laothoe was my mother.  She was a wonderful woman who raised four strong sons, but she always adored delicate precious things, which were not easy to find in a home full of brawling boys.  When I opened my shop I could think of no other name than one that would honor her, her strength, and all that she taught me.  It is a little play on words.  I was her youngest and her Artisan,” he explains.

“Oh that is sweet, Master Hunter,” Ayden coos.

“Oh don’t you let my soft heart fool you, Girlie.  As a Master I am tough as nails.”  Ayden swallows hard, her eyes getting large, and just nods.  “Now, it is late and I still want to stop off for a little drink on my way home.  You will stay here tonight.  Come with me.”

He gets off his stool and moves towards the back of the workshop, stepping around dusty crates that are stacked around large pillars that support the sagging roof.   

Start reading on 3 September entry:

As you can see yesterday was not a very productive day.  I mostly did some rewrites of old stuff and will repost a new version of the story with the rewrites on the 1st of September.

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Accepting the last of the water from the ladle the old man licks his lips and wipes away the remaining moisture with the back of his hand.  “Do you see?  Vessel subs are intuitively submissive.  They were highly cherished.  Families began taking them into their homes.  The leaders of our city finally acquiesced to the women of the village and allowed them to take an equal place next to their husbands.  The vessel subs were from then accepted as a part of the town and took over the duties the women had previously cared for so diligently.”

A radiant smile spreads across the old man’s face, “When I was just a small boy I would hear stories about men who rescued vessel subs from the surf and how they were bound to each other for life.  The sub would live out her life serving only him.  I hoped for this and as I got older I found myself drawn to this beach.  I eventually opened my shop here, so that I could be here every day.  Then one morning I was here very early, to get a special order filled, and out at the water’s edge I saw her pushed in by the waves.  I ran down to the beach where she lay lifeless.  She was so beautiful laying there with the water lapping at her skin.  I picked her up and brought her here.”  The old man’s gaze drifts over her shoulder and out to the beach.

“The woman who left the stone?” Ayden asks.

The man nods and soulfully replies, “Yes, but it seems I was the only one that felt that bound.”  He clears his throat and lets out a low growl before reprimanding, “Now you are keeping me from getting my work done with all this talking.  There will be no more talk of this.  Put that spoon away and then I want you to come help me with my work.”

Start reading on 3 September:

Without even looking over his shoulder the elderly man chortles, “You can come out of there now, Girlie.”  Ayden timidly approaches him; she can see his eyes are on the aged hag but she can tell they are looking deep into the recesses of his memories.  In a voice that is distant and thoughtful, his hand twisting at the tail ends of his white beard, as he begins, “I watched her come out of the ocean back when we were both not much older than you are now.  She was beautiful then and I cannot figure it out but she is just as beautiful today,” he explains, letting his voice trail off as he disappears back into his own memories.  Not wanting to interrupt his reminiscing Ayden moves closer and stands before him, silently, and he reaches out and puts a hand on her shoulder, looking at her quickly and then back to the old woman as she disappears around a distant corner. 

“You know when she walked out of the surf, her long red hair dripping down her back I thought I was dreaming.  I had never seen anything quite like her and she was the first vessel sub I had ever seen emerge,” he softly recalls.  “Something in the back of mind keeps telling me that there is something wrong.  I mean look at me, I am an old man and yet she looks as fresh as the day she walked out of the water; still absolutely just as beautiful as the day I claimed her for my own.”  He drops his gaze to the ground shaking his head, “Something just is not right,” he says thoughtfully as he brings the gem up to the sun and turns it over in his fingers letting the light shine through it illuminating green prisms around the shop.  “This little jewel changed everything though.”

“What do you mean?” Ayden barely gets out, fighting the dryness that has suddenly set into her throat.

“Oh, well I offered to take her home with me but she would not hear any of it.  She stayed right here on the pier; and eventually left me to become a crate girl and a good one at that.  She had all the tokens that she could ever want, but they are not good anywhere but here on the pier, you know.”  He pauses and takes in a deep breath letting it out slowly before he carries on with his story, “Then one day she shows up with a handful of gems like this one.  I have no idea how a vessel sub, a crate girl at that, could ever get her hands on a precious stone like this,” he says as he tosses the gem into the air catching it in his fist and depositing it in his pocket, and continues, “but there they were tucked in her tight little fist, not one but a whole handful.”  Shaking his head he goes on to tell Ayden, “She walked off this pier and she never came back.  She bought a pub a little way up the road and has a few rooms she rents out on the second floor.  She serves the most amazing house drink there and I am not sure if I go for the ale or in the hopes that I will have the chance to taste her lips just one more time.  I just cannot seem to stay away.”  With what Ayden can only describe as a heartfelt moan he says, “Something just is not right about it all though.”

Coming back to reality the old man taps Ayden on the shoulder, “Now come on you; letting an old man blather on about things that might have been.  We have work to do; now don’t we?”  The old man turns and goes into the workshop with Ayden fast on his heels, but she cannot help stealing a look over her shoulder and looking to the corner where the old hag disappeared and Ayden questions how love can be so blind.

As the old man takes his seat at his workbench Ayden turns her back to the bench, facing the man and quietly asks, “You mentioned that she was a vessel sub.  What is that?”

The old man is twirling a beautiful piece of jewelry around in his hands and with an extraordinary skill he molds and fastens small bits of gold and gems to it with incredible dexterity as he smiles at her out of the corner of his eye.  “Girlie, what am I going to do with you?  Did you just land here today?” he chides.  In an almost scolding tone he asks her, “What is a vessel?”

Ayden blinks and replies simply, “A boat? Or maybe a ship of some kind.”

He smiles and picks up another tool and makes fine detailed carvings into the band before looking at her and nodding, “That’s right.  And where do you find boats?”

“On the water,” she replies flatly, clearly not following his line of logic.

“Yes!” he says his eyes beginning to twinkle again, “And if you are not talking about a boat what else can a vessel be?”

Ayden looks off into the distance and as she thinks she slides her hands back onto the smooth wood of the work bench, lifts herself up, and scoots back to sit on the table top beside where he is working, “I am not sure.  Maybe a…,” she stalls, until she sees a delivery man going into a nearby shop with a  jug of water slung over his shoulder and she smiles as she triumphantly says “jug.”

The old man chuckles and pats her on the knee, “Very good.  So a vessel is a jug that holds what…?”

Ayden sighs and chews on the inside of her lower lip, “Liquids?”

“You catch on fast, little girl.  So a vessel is something that can hold precious liquids, like a bucket or pitcher, and it can also come from the sea, like a ship that has slipped its moorings and washes up on the beach,” he pauses and looks over at her, “Are you following me, Girlie?”  When Ayden just shakes her head he puts down the ornate design he is working on and turns to face her, leaning forward as he props himself up with his hands on his knees. “Okay,” he sighs, “Years ago the women of this town, or so the story goes, used to be subservient.  They were proud to do their duty and they were celebrated the world over for their high quality, and were highly desired.  Then things began to change and they wanted to be wives.  They wanted to be treated as equals, but this was not working and neither the men nor the women were happy.  Then one day a vessel sub washed up on shore.  Soon after that they started washing up on a regular basis.  There were so many of them that some were left to starve on the beach or scavenge for food on their own.”  He stops for a moment and looks up at her, “If I am going to finish this story I am going to need a drink of water.  Please get a drink from the bucket and bring it here to me.

Eager to hear the rest of his story Ayden hurriedly jumps from her seat and lands with her bare feet slapping hard against the stone floor of the shop.  She pads over to the bucket and brings up a ladle full of water.  Holding it up high in one hand and placing the other under the dipper she carefully carries it over to the old man.  As she reaches out to hand him the ladle he looks her directly in the eyes, holding her gaze, and lets his lips part slightly.  Unsure of what to do Ayden gingerly presses the ladle to his lips and tips it, allowing the cool water to trickle into his mouth.

Accepting the last of the water from the ladle the old man licks his lips and wipes away the remaining moisture with the back of his hand.  “Do you see?  Vessel subs are intuitively submissive.  They were highly cherished.  Families began taking them into their homes.  The leaders of our city finally acquiesced to the women of the village and allowed them to take an equal place next to their husbands.  The vessel subs were from then accepted into the town to serve as our submissives.

Start reading on 3 September:

Ayden stretches and jumps but after several attempts she still has not managed to retrieve any fruit from the tree.  Gasping for air she plops her weary body down on the bench to think.  Catching her breath she looks at the ground thinking and then up at the fruit in the tree above her.  She sits there for a moment and then as a smile spreads across her face she brings the palm of her hand up and hits herself softly in the forehead.  Shaking her head and laughing silently she looks over at the old man who is leaning back in his chair watching her and is clearly amused by her antics.  Still smiling she stands up keeping her eyes fixed on the old man, braces herself on the back of the bench and clambers up to stand on the bench.  He grins at her and winks as she easily reaches up into the tree and grabs two of the largest and the ripest of the fruit above her head and jumps off the bench with a triumphant thud.

Ayden saunters across the pier to the old man’s shop.  It is a rustic looking building with an open portico.  There is a rough hewn board hanging over the open front with delicate wrought iron letters spelling out, “Laothoe’s Artisan”.  She walks up to the elderly man and holds out one of the fruits to him.  He raises up his hands; waving her off, “Oh no, those are all yours, Girlie.  You earned them.  Besides they are not really my first choice.  I prefer something that is juicy and sweet all of the way through.”  He takes a deep breath and looks Ayden over and with a deep sigh says, “Alright Girlie, head inside.  There is a bucket in the back.  It does not look like much but the water is cool and clean.  The bucket and ladle are clean too or my work would be ruined.  Go inside and get yourself something to drink and then come on back out here and we will figure out what to do with you.”  As Ayden turns to go inside he swats her on the behind with a chuckle and goes back to working on the driftwood. 

Inside Ayden finds a rustic looking shop with simple antique tools.  She wonders at how ancient his craft must be.  In the back corner she finds an old-style milk jug with a metal ladle hanging off the side.  Scooping up the clear water she puts it to her lips and gulps down several ladles full before her thirst is quenched.  Ayden takes a bite of the fruit she has picked and her mouth is flooded with mouth puckering tartness, but it almost instantly changes to a sweet juicy flavor that fills her mouth with a savory sweetness that is more delicious than anything she has ever eaten before.  She wonders if that is just the effect of being so hungry and takes another large bite, bracing for the bitter flavor, but the tartness seems less biting with the second mouthful.  Very quickly she has managed to inhale half of the fruit and her hunger is beginning to abate.

An elderly hag approaches the shop.  Ayden guesses she must be at least as old as the old man.  The old hag walks with a hobbling gait and when she smiles at the old man Ayden notices she is missing several of her front teeth.  Mindlessly, Ayden ladles up another scoop of water as the hag begins a conversation with the old man.  Curious she moves slightly closer to the front of the shop.  The old woman is giving exhaustive details on a piece of jewelry she wants designed.  After going into great detail of the design style, the clasp, how the chain should hang and even how many links should be included she hands over a beautiful green gem to the old man; chiding him to be careful with it and explaining its inimitable value.

Taking a step forward, ready to join the two at the front of the shop Ayden is stopped in her tracks when the aged hag turns to the old man, running her boney finger down his cheek and nearly purrs, “You know I would love to have you come to work for me.”

The Elderly man arches his eyebrows and in a swift movement that topples his chair he stands over her, his fists suddenly balled up tightly at his waist and in a thunderous voice, the likes of which Ayden has never heard him use he growls down at the woman, “Work for you? Just who do you think you are talking to?” Hearing this Ayden tenses and slides back into the shadows not wanting to draw any attention or be noticed.

The hag chokes and clears her throat.  Stammering she corrects herself, lowering her head and dropping into a deep curtsy, “Please do pardon my manners kind Sir.  I, of course, meant that it would honor me greatly if you would leave this meager shop and allow me to serve you by providing you with the most modern of workshops behind my pub.”

As quickly as his mood changed it changes back and the old man relaxes, letting his hands fall loosely to his sides.  With the twinkle returning to his eyes he reaches down, with the crook of his finger, raises her chin up so that she is looking at him and in a much smoother tone he answers to her, “While I do appreciate your offer of service fine lady I much prefer the surroundings here and the ample supply of vessel subs.”

The hag contritely murmurs, “Yes, of course, Sir.  I do see how that would be appealing.  I would be honored if you might stop by, when our business is done or sooner if that appeals to you, and allow me to offer you a large glass my special house ale that you like so well. Just a little offering to make up for this little misunderstanding, Sir.”

He smiles down at her and running his knuckle over her wrinkled cheek he replies, “That would please me greatly.”  With a nod of her head the aged hag then backs away from the old man and out of the shop where she quickly turns and scurries, the best she can, down the street.

** Updated Version of the story - Start reading on 3 September:

 

The sun was beating through the windows and the temperature was rising in the bedroom already.  Ayden rolled over and looked at the clock on the bedside table which read 8:47.  It was going to be unbearably hot again today, just like every other day this summer since she and Meg had arrived.  Why did she agree to this summer adventure with Meg?  It was her last summer of freedom before her job started in the fall.  It would be her one last chance to spend a little time with Meg.  Meg had been her best friend growing up in their little hometown and her college roommate.  They had decided to rent the little beach house for the summer before Meg moved off across the country to her new executive position with a Marketing firm whose name was so long Ayden could never remember it.  They had been at the beach house a total of five hours when Meg had met an over tanned surfer with a phony white smile.  Since then it seemed Meg was barely around the bungalow long enough to change her clothes before heading off for another day at the beach with her surfer, doing whatever it was that surfers did all day.  She glanced over at Meg’s bed and the covers were just as neat as the day they arrived.  Ayden wondered if Meg would ever even use the bed before summer was over.  Ayden stretched the kinks out of her back and ran her fingers through her long brown hair.  Meg had beautiful blond hair with just a hint of a curl and all the boys at college had regularly fallen over themselves to save her a seat at the football games, they all wanted to be near her and Ayden could not blame them after all Meg was her best friend.  Ayden lay there pondering why she was not more adventurous and outgoing like Meg but slowly rolled herself out of bed and moved towards the bathroom and a nice cool shower to wake herself up.

She smiled as she entered the bathroom.  It was almost too cliché even for the beach but at least it was cooler in here.  She and Meg had enjoyed a good laugh when they first saw it with its light blue paint and lighthouse tiles.  There was even a string of sand dollars hanging from the mirror like a long forgotten Christmas garland, probably left over from some other tourists' vacation in the summers before theirs.  They had promised each other they would look for sand dollars to add to it before they left in the fall.  Ayden reached up and gently ran her finger over the rough edges and realized she missed having Meg around. 

She turned on the water and it sputtered and spit but eventually settled into a steady stream of clear water.  She slid out of her bra and let her soft cotton panties drop to the floor and stepped into the water.  It danced across her skin and felt wonderfully cool as she closed her eyes and dropped her head back into the stream and let it pelt down on her face before it raced over her body and down the drain, washing the summer’s heat away.  She shampooed her hair twice before reaching for the bar of soap.  Meg always smelled of lavender and Ayden rolled the bar over in her hands making it lather and sniffed at the bar of soap smiling.  She thought as she let the bar slide across her stomach that, "Today she would be the one smelling like the delicate flower on the beach".  Slowly she led the bar in circles around her breasts letting the water wash away the lather and leaving her skin feeling soft and smooth.  Her guided the small bar down her thighs washing over her calves and coming back up to gently lather between her legs, before carefully shaving her legs and rinsing off.  Turning off the water she reached for a towel and found them both still wet and she knew that Meg had at least been there for a few minutes this morning.  She did her best to dry her body off on what little of the ends of the towels that were not damp before gathering everything up and depositing it all in the hamper, vowing to do the laundry in the evening when it cooled off a bit. 

Standing before the mirror she swiped away the steam that had collected there and ran a comb quickly through her hair before she pulled it up in a tight ponytail and reached for the baby oil.  She knew it is a bit old fashioned and she would pay for the abuse to her skin when she was a little older but she loved the way it felt against her skin.  She rubbed just a bit over her skin stealing glances at her naked body in the mirror as she did.  The boys might save seats for blond haired Meg, she thought, but Ayden had gotten a little attention in college too.  She had two boyfriends over the course of the four years and they had each enjoyed the small curves of her hips and the way her breasts filled out their dress shirts in the morning.  She did love to wake up early and fix them a nice breakfast on Saturday mornings and it just seemed easy to grab a clean shirt from their closet.  She absently massaged in the last of the oil making her nipples harden slightly as she remembered the musky smell of those soft dress shirts and a smile spread across her face. 

Once again she caught her reflection in the mirror and it brought her back to reality.  Ayden grabbed the little blue bikini, hanging on the rack and slipped it on.  She remembered how they had shopped for days before finding it.  Meg had been so excited and promised it would be perfect for the beach.  As Ayden passed through the bedroom, on her way to the kitchen, she snagged her old familiar college T-shirt, which often substituted for a nightshirt.  It was still lying on the end of the bed and she threw it on, over her bikini.  She walked into the kitchen humming the old Beach Boys’ song, “Fun, Fun, Fun” but got stuck on the chorus and could not remember the rest of the words.  Seeing the pile of dishes in the sink she guessed Meg had not come by alone and wondered how it was she had not woken up.  Ayden sighed, but a smile crept across her face as she shook her head and picked up the bowl from the table that was still half full of milk and had a few stray Cheerios still floating in the white liquid, like little life preservers.  With the dishes rinsed and tucked into the dishwasher she went to the refrigerator to see if there was anything left.  She located an apple and two peaches which would have to do for breakfast and lunch.  Once they were washed and wrapped to keep them cool inside of her bag she headed out the door to the beach.

The beach was only half a block away and as soon as the door was closed she could smell the cool salt water calling to her.  There were little tourist boutiques lining all of the streets along the beach.  They sold everything from snow cones to tourist T-shirts proclaiming, “My grandma and grandpa went to the beach and all I got was this silly tee.”  There were little cafes with small tables lined up in front and bars that seemed quiet during the day, but drew large crowds at night.  Ayden meant to explore a couple of the nicer bars in the evenings but going alone did not seem as much fun as going there with Meg.  At the very corner, right across the street from the beach access was even an old LP record shop that had bongo drums hanging from the awning out front.  She wondered if the shop had been there since the 1960s.  The beach was busy but not as crowded as it would get over the weekend and it was still just late morning so she found a nice location on the beach and set up her towel.  The sand was already getting warm and her toes were burning from the walk over and getting everything set up so she headed directly to the water’s edge to soak them in the cool surf.  The roar of the waves filled her ears and she watched each one roll in.  The surfers were sitting on their boards, lined up like toy soldiers standing sentry.  They were doing their best to find the perfect wave but this morning they were small and so the surfers mostly stayed out away from the beach.  It was so hot and with the small waves and the surfers all staying so far out she was sure it would be safe to venture in a little deeper.  She gingerly stepped a little deeper, ever slowly creeping further into the water until she had to hop a little for each wave as it rolled towards the beach.  She laughed at herself and enjoyed the feeling of being a little kid again playing in the surf.  She had gone a bit further than she should and further than she ever had before but the water made her feel so alive and cool.  She had been out longer than she intended and turned to check on her bag still back on the beach when an unusually large wave caught her from behind spinning her over.  Her head was pulled under water and she was being tossed and tumbled about like she had been thrown into a washing machine.  She could not find the surface.  She was not even sure if she was right side up or upside down.  The waves seemed to be crashing in on her as they tossed her over and over.  For a moment her head was above water and she gasped for air but as quickly as the air appeared it was gone again and she was swallowing water.  She fought frantically clawing for the surface, for another small gulp of air.  Her lungs burned but all she could see were bubbles and green everywhere.  Surely, she thought, someone had to see her go under.  Someone would pull her free, but slowly the water faded to black.

*  *  *  *  *

Even before she opened her eyes Ayden heard voices.  They were all around her.  She could feel the wet sand against her cheek and lips.  The gentle surf washed against her ankles.  Slowly opening her eyes and pushing up on one hand just to roll her aching body over took all the effort she could muster.  She moaned and closed her eyes against the brilliant sun threatening to blind her.

Ayden heard a woman ask, “Is she alive?”

The voice of a small boy very near her face said, “Look mommy she moved and her eyes are opening.”  She felt a finger that slowly slid down her arm, the fingernail gently skimming the surface of her skin and as she carefully opened her eyes she saw the small boy put the finger in his mouth, licking at the nail bed, before making a face and trying to spit out the foul flavor which must have been from the baby oil she had put on before coming to the beach.

The mother gasped and grabbed the small boy by the arm pulling him away from the crowd, indignantly scolding him, “Mason!  You can not just go around licking people that you do not know!”  Trailing off as she stormed up the beach with her son in tow Ayden could hear her complain, “Someone really should do something about these girls on the beach”

An elderly woman to her right said, “Wyatt, do something about this.”

Suddenly there were hands lifting her to a sitting position.  Then came the sting to her face.  The elderly man, Wyatt, had just slapped her gently, but not softly, on the cheek and was looking at her with concern asking, “Are you alright?”

Ayden looked up at him puzzled answering, “I think so,” as her hand rose to rub the sore cheek, sure that it had left a mark.

The elderly woman was smoothing Ayden’s ponytail back away from her face and inquiring, “Did you do this on purpose or have you just arrived?  Where do you live?”

By this time Ayden was on her feet and brushing away a bit of loose sand from her hands, “No, no, I just slipped and I am staying…” as she raised her hand to point in the direction of the beach house she noticed the shops looked different and the record store was not there.  On this corner stood an old style, corner market with fruit displayed in boxes lining the front of the store.  Confused she stammered, “I… I… um,” looking up and down the beach front for something familiar.  As she struggled to figure out how far she was from the beach house the crowd began to disperse, many of them shaking their heads, some looking back at her with pity in their eyes but most focused on their feet as they trundle through the deep sand back to their own activities.  “Wait!” she frantically called out to them but not even the elderly couple would look back to help.

Searching for any marker along the shore that looks familiar she sees a jogger coming towards her, but before she can utter a word he alters his path and jogs behind her.  As he races past behind her he slaps her firmly on the derrière, so hard he nearly knocks her over again.  She instantly grabs her behind and rubs the burning sensation, looking towards the man who is still jogging down the beach but is now running backwards smiling and shaking his finger at her.  She is not sure why but she blushes and returns his infectious smile.

To her left is a group of young men, about her age, laughing loudly and passing a football back and forth.  Still feeling a little dazed she approaches them and calls out quietly, “Excuse me, can you help me?”

The man with the ball plants it firmly on his left hip holding it casually in place with his wrist and he smiles as he strides over to her.  He is tall and tanned, with dark hair and eyes the color of dark chocolate.  It is obvious he has spent some time on the beach.  She had not noticed how attractive he was until he smiled at her.  The muscles of his arms are not the sort you see on men who spend too much time worrying about how they look, but they are the kind a man who is very athletic would have.  Her eyes are drawn to the strong muscles of his chest.  There is just a touch of dark hair in the center and a matching bit just below his belly as it slides down into his bathing suit between the prominent ‘V’ of his hipbones.  His three friends approach behind him.  They are equally athletically built, with varying hair and eye color, but each one as attractive as the man with the football.  Her breath catches in her throat as they approach.  She blushes and drops her eyes to their feet as she sees she has been caught admiring their physiques.  The man with the football reaches her first and in a deep voice says, “Sure, what kind of help do you need?” simultaneously his free hand comes up and softly cups the underside of her breast.

Ayden’s hand instinctively jerks up to push it away as she takes a step back losing her balance in the soft sand and landing in the waiting arms of the tallest of the quartette; the blond with the deep blue eyes.  She had not noticed him circle around behind her.  He stands her up and with her back still held tightly against his strong chest he whispers in her ear, “Naughty, naughty you little spitfire and what are you doing down here all alone?” as he deftly spins her quickly around and holds her torso against his waist pinning her there, bent at the middle, with his arm firmly holding her in place.  Quickly her feet are kicked apart and three swift ‘whacks” land hard on her bottom.  The first one makes her cry out in surprise, it lands hard and the hand is large, nearly covering both sides in one strike.  The second one comes before she can catch her breath and she tries to squirm away from it so it lands on one side sending a sharp sting followed by a warm heat that spreads slowly over the skin.  It is now that she raises her face to the crowd realizing that all eyes on the beach are turned towards her.  Many of the men have stopped building sand castles with their children and are standing with their arms crossed nodding their approval at the young men scolding her now.  The women are smiling and trying to distract the younger of the children away from the scene at the shore.  The third strike is the hardest of all and her knees buckle as tears form in the corners of her eyes.  Ayden is panting as she is righted, the blond still holding her in place with a big strong hand on each of her upper arms as he slowly whispers in her ear, “What do you say to the nice man?”

Ayden’s mouth gapes open, dumbfounded.  Her mind is racing trying to make sense of what is happening to her and where she is.  Her mouth pops open and closed so that she looks like one of the guppies in the pet shop that stood on Main Street, of her hometown when she was a young girl.

The tall dark haired man just laughs and waves the blond off, “Danny, it’s okay.  Don’t worry about it.  We are just here to have a little fun.  Hell, we didn’t even ask her permission first.”

The blond, Danny, relaxes his hold on her arms and turns her around to face him.  With his thumb he gently reaches up and swipes away a tear from her cheek and asks quietly “Are you okay now?  Feel better?”

Ayden could do nothing but bob her head forward slightly.

Danny cocks his head and brings his hand up to cup his ear saying, “What?  I did not hear that.”

Ayden is able to gulp out a squeaky, “Yes.”

Danny does not let go of his grip, in fact, it tightens slightly as he corrects her drawing out a, “Sir….”

Ayden’s mouth falls open in shock and her eye are as wide open as a child who has just had their lollipop ripped from their hand.  In barely more than a whisper she manages to choke out, “Yes, Sir?”

Danny’s face lights up in a bright beaming smile as he pats her on the bottom releasing her arms saying, “See that is a good little spitfire.”  The tall dark haired man and his two friends have already gone back to their patch on the sand and Danny follows behind them. 

As Ayden looks along the beach all faces are on her.  “Excuse me.  Could someone please…” but before she can finish her sentence they have all gone back to what they were doing before and are too preoccupied to offer her any assistance.

Unsure of where she is and completely baffled by the behavior of the people on the sand she turns to search for her towel and bag, but not before looking over her shoulder to be sure the four men are focused on their football game and that she is heading away from them.  As she is glancing at them the tall blond catches her glance and gives her a wink as a gleaming smile spreads across his face.  She quickly turns her gaze forward feeling the blush rising in her cheeks.  Ayden raises a hand and touches her cheeks feeling the heat and wipes away the wetness of the remaining tears wishing she did not blush so easily.  She then feels the heat on her bottom and thinks those cheeks must have a bright pink blush, as well, and rubs at the heat, tugging to reposition her bikini into place as she searches for her towel.  The beach stretches on as far as she can see.

Ahead of her she can see the light blue, sloped-roof of a life guard tower and begins working her way towards it.  As she draws closer to it she can see that it is very much like a life guard tower you would see on any beach.  It is a simple wooden structure with windows on three sides, a door in the front, with a ramp leading up to it, and a deck that runs along the side facing the shore, where the life guard can stand under the over-hang that provides a little shade during the heat of the day.  The entire building is supported by wooden pillars which keep it up off the ground so the life guard can see out over the crowds.  It all looks about as cliché as her bathroom back at the beach house, except at the base of the tower, where the four pillars support the small room, there is iron meshing on all four sides and a small opening where a metal gate hangs askew from one hinge.  Around the outside of the tower are small wooden posts that stand about as tall as her waist.  The posts surround the life guard tower and stand about 1 meter apart from each other and are about 1 meter from the base of the light blue tower so that they form a little square of twenty-one posts.  Each post is topped with a black iron ring and there is a man using a heavy grinder on some of the rings that appear to have begun to rust.  As she approaches he stops his work and grins up at her with his toothless smile.  She takes a step back, but as he chuckles and returns to his work she presses forward to the young man positioned on the front deck of the tower.  At the base of the ramp leading up to the deck she calls out to the life guard who looks down at her and smiles as he turns and goes back inside the small room.  Hesitantly, she climbs the ramp calling out, “Hello?” to the life guard as she does.  Reaching the top she peers through the doorway and he is sitting on a small stool at a table that is stacked with first aid equipment.  Ayden smiles and breathes a sigh of relief and quietly asks, “Excuse me but could you please help me.  I seem to be lost.” 

The life guard smiles and motions for her to enter the small room.  Once inside there is barely enough room for the two of them with the life guard sitting on the stool.  He looks up at her and says, “Won’t your please have a seat?”  Ayden quickly looks around but the life guard is sitting on the only seat in the room.  He has leaned forward, with one hand on his right knee and the left knee he has his elbow propped up with his palm facing up slowly extending out in her direction.  She is still looking from her right where the orange lifebuoy hangs on a nail and to the left where a small refrigerator sits in the corner when she feels his fingertips press softly against her knees.  Startled she looks down at his hand and tries to back up, but her back is against the door, and as she does her legs open slightly allowing his hand to gently slide between her knees.  Her mouth falls open in silent protest as she looks from the hand up into the man’s face.  His gentle blue eyes are looking up sideways at her waiting, when he clears his throat and impatiently asks, “Well?”

Quickly looking around the room again Ayden chuckles softly and says quietly, “I do not see a chair.”

“I have offered you my hand.  Now please bend your knees outward and kindly have a seat like a polite young lady would when a seat is offered to her,” he softly chided her.  Whether it was the heat of the day, nearly drowning, or the strange way that people were behaving she found herself slowly bending her knees and lowering herself down just as she had been asked to do.  Once she was awkwardly balanced on his outstretched hand, just the thin layer of her bikini between his warm flesh and the moisture that was barely hidden away in the folds of her own he leaned close to her face, still smiling and asked, “What is it you need help with again?”

Flustered and blushing Ayden stumbled over her words quickly trying to get her story out.  Trying to explain that she had nearly drown and she was lost and could not find her way back, but her words just fell out in a frantic jumble.  The life guard just smiled at her, obviously amused, looking her directly in the eye, holding her gaze as his outstretched hand began to slowly close over her mons bringing his other hand up to cover her mouth and let out a deep low, “Shhh.”  Immediately, she stopped talking and took in a deep breath of air and let it out slowly finally feeling her body relax as a tingling began to radiate up from her belly.  She knew that she should not, but his strong hand felt good against her body and she dared not move, but instinctively kissed his hand that was still holding her silent.  Gradually, the hand that was grasping her releases and the life guard tells her to stand and she silently obeys his command.  He stands up, as she does, and smiles down at her, “Now then, we are closed today as you can see from the repairs going on outside,” there is a quick slap on her rear as he continues, “so now off with you young lady.”  Bewildered she slowly inches back down the ramp looking over her shoulder as the life guard shoos her away with the back of his downturned, open fingertips that where only a few moments ago wrapped so snuggly around her.

Still struggling to make sense of all that has happened; Ayden looks around searching the sand for some familiar landmark, something that will point her in the right direction.  When her stomach rumbles, she instantly brings one hand up to stop the noise and uses the other hand to shade her eyes from the sun as she searches the sky and guesses it is getting late in the afternoon, but she is not prepared to trust any of her senses, at least not yet.  Ayden wishes she had eaten something before getting into the water this morning and wonders just how long she was in the water.  The heat of the day is radiating down from her scalp and she knows she cannot go much further; her mouth is feeling dry and she can still taste the salt water she must have swallowed.  As she scans the beach trying to determine which way to go, she looks back to where the elderly couple, the families, and the young men were gathered on the beach and decides not to go back that way.  Ayden looks longingly at the life guard tower she just left.  She wonders at the captivating life guard and the enthralling effect he had on her.  She knows she cannot return there for help, but does not know where to turn.  Off in the distance she sees a pier with what looks like a considerable amount of activity and begins the long trudge down the beach towards the pier.

*  *  *  *  *

The music and noise from the pier can be heard long before she reaches it.  Even from a distance Ayden can make out the smells and excitement of a carnival.  Once on the pier she is surrounded by a swirling mass of people.  She tries but can not get even one person to draw their attention away from the sights of the carnival attractions to help her. 

She pushes her way forward through the crowd and can hear the barker announcing that it is time for everyone to, “Step right up and see the beautiful assistant being tied to the wheel.”  As Ayden edges her way to the front of the mass watching the show she is shocked that the beautiful assistant is not just strapped to a large wheel, painted in red and yellow pie slices, but she is also naked.  The lovely girl is held tightly in place by leather straps at her wrists and ankles, a third pair that runs under her arms at her shoulders, and a final pair that skirts around the top of her thighs holding her very securely in place.  She is a strikingly beautiful girl with short dark hair and even darker mysterious eyes.  Her deep crimson lips are set off by skin that is a swarthy olive tone and has been oiled so that it shines in the bright afternoon sun.  A large man steps forward and bows to the crowd as they cheer and applaud.  He gestures to the lovely assistant and the crowd responds even louder. 

A boy steps up to the wheel and when the large man nods to him the boy takes a tight grip on the wheel and with all his might sets the wheel spinning and the lovely assistant with it.  She spins head over heels as the crowd quiets.  Ayden can not take her eyes off the spinning girl when suddenly there is a loud pop that makes her jump.  She has always hated the sound of balloons popping, but as she turns her attention back to the large man she sees that he has removed a long whip from his belt and has unfurled it onto the ground.  It is stretched out before him and as he shakes it out it almost appears to slither across the ground like a snake.  He snaps it again and the crowd “Oohs.”  Ayden expects the man to pull the knives from his belt but they stay protected in their sheaves.  He raises his arm and with a heavy flick of his wrist the end of the whip is sent sailing through the air towards the lovely assistant.  Ayden gasped loudly as the whip connects perfectly with the spinning girl leaving a heavy red mark that runs from her hip, diagonally up, perfectly laid between her soft breasts, and stops just short of her collar bone.  The crowd, “Awes,” and one lady not too far from Ayden buries her face in the shoulder of the man standing next to her. 

The boy brings one finger to his lips, signaling for everyone to be quiet and the carnival barker instructs the crowd that, “This is a very dangerous task and there must be silence so that Master Merlin the Magnificent can concentrate.” 

As a hush falls back over the crowd the large man, Merlin, waves the whip across the ground so that it slithers back and forth and before Ayden is prepared the whip is raised and snapped again against the assistant’s skin.  A perfect red ‘X’ is raised in welts across her front as the second line begins to show, both welts meeting together between her breasts.  The crowd erupts in thunderous applause and Merlin takes his bows.  After his bow Merlin coils the whip and replaces it on his belt, but as he does he removes the knives that hang there.  Merlin then begins to juggle then over his head and aims at the beautiful assistant.  The crowd begins to spin and Ayden feels suddenly faint.  Fearing what she might see, Ayden pushes her way through the crowd to fresh clean air.  Free of the crowd she hears the barker calling to the crowd to thank Merlin the Magnificent and his lovely girl for their performance, but Ayden moves away as quickly as she can.

Ayden smells it before she sees the hotdog stand directly in her path.  Her stomach begins to churn, as if on cue.  There is a large sign above the stand and in bright bold letters it reads, “Hot Dogs” on the left of the sign and, “Corn Dogs” on the right, and between the two is a picture of a coin that has the words, “5 Tokens,” emblazoned on a painted ribbon across its middle.  Ayden licks her lips instinctively, looking longingly through the windows of the stand.  The stand has windows that stretch across the front from one end to the other.  There are small opens where the workers can stick out their head to take orders.  The large windows give a clear view of the cooking area inside.  From where she stands she can watch one of the workers, who is wearing a silly uniform, while she adds new hotdogs to the ones already spinning over the flames.  The juice from the hotdogs drips making it appear as if the flames are dancing up to lick the juice away.  Another worker is slowly dipping hotdogs into the corn batter and as she brings them up the gooey mess drips down her arm and across the counter to where she slides them into the waiting deep fryer.  Unaware Ayden has slipped into the line and has reached the front.  The attendant at the window impatiently asks, “Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to order something?”

Ayden looks up in shock; surprised by the attendants loud outburst.  She looks around at the crowd staring at her and mumbles, “I am sorry I have lost my belongings and I don’t have any money on me.”

Impatiently the attendant explains, “If you have no tokens you will need to get out of the line until you have some.  There are people waiting who already have their tokens.” “Now move!” he says in a loud stern voice.

Ayden steps back out of the line fighting the tears of exhaustion and hunger when she feels a soft tap on her shoulder.  Spinning around she comes face to face with a well groomed businessman who asks her, “I could not help over hearing your conversation.  Are you hungry?  I can help.  You see we take care of our girls in this town.”  Ayden nods as she uses the back of her hand to dab at the moisture that has formed at the corner of her eyes. “Just follow me around back then.  The girls’ stands are back there,” he explains as her rounds the edge of the stand.  Ayden quickly follows the man grateful for his kind help.

Behind the stand are several picnic tables.  At one of the tables there are two men caught in an arm wrestling battle.  The crowd is cheering them on and at the feet of the larger man is a strikingly beautiful woman who is kneeling naked with her arms wrapped lovingly around his leg with her head propped on his knee watching the battle serenely.  The businessman does not stop to watch, but seems to pass the scene unnoticed.  Mixed through the crowd are other girls, most in bikinis but all kneeling on the ground.  Ayden is craning her neck to watch the scene when she walks right into the back of the businessman.  She turns to him blushing and offers him a shocked apology which he brushes off with a smile saying, “I am sure you will make it up to me,” as he pulls a slightly tarnished gold token from his pocket and offers it to her.  As she reaches out to take the token his hand closes around it and he wraps his free hand around her waist and pulls her to him, ”You are a hungry little one,” he says as he plans a kiss on her cheek.

He releases her and gestures to the large wooden crate they are standing in front of.  It is then that Ayden notices the box is open on the top and in the front.  The three remaining upright sides each have a hole cut in them that seems to have padded material protecting the rough cut edges.  On the floor of the crate is a fabric cushion and a small bowl.  Ayden looks from the crate to the businessman; only then registering there is an identical crate next to it.  There are men standing all around the crate watching and cheering like at the arm wrestling table but between their legs she can see into the opening at the front of the crate.  Inside is a lovely girl in a bikini.  She is kneeling on the cushion and her bowl has several gold tokens nestled in it.  In her hand she has grasped hungrily onto a large man’s penis that is inserted through the fabric hole in the crate.  She is bringing it to her mouth as her head tips back slightly letting her tongue lick at the tip, circling it, and letting the moisture of her tongue leave behind a moist trail on the shiny head.  As her lips gently close on the head in a sensuous kiss the crowd erupts in thunderous cheers.  In the girl’s other hand she is slowly stroking another pulsing shaft that is snuggly pressed through the hole on the other side of the crate.  The veins of the one being slowly massaged pulse as her hand glides over the surface.  At the opening of the crate a man drops another token in the bowl as he frantically peels back the upper portion of his pants, lowering them slightly, revealing a hard and waiting cock that jumps from its cloth prison.  He strokes it quickly himself while she hungrily feeds on the two in her hands.  First taking one into her mouth teasing it with her tongue, only letting it in the slightest bit but then quickly plunging down to the fabric ring on the crate.  Ayden can see the head of the man standing beside the box rear back and she can hear his loud moans as the girl slides her mouth away to focus her kisses on the man protruding from the hole opposite him on the box.  As the girls turns her head to face the second man the other man, standing at the front of the box, who has been wildly stroking himself erupts in a stream of warm liquid.  The thick moisture coats her face and drips off her chin, finally sliding down between her breasts.  She smiles up at him and licks away the moisture on her lips, opens her mouth wide and without taking her eyes off the man who is standing, panting, before her she plunges her mouth on the seething waiting mass in her hand and it too convulses in a spray of warm fluid and spills from the corner of her hungry mouth.  As she gasps for air a man is already shouldering in next to the man at the front of the crate.  She releases the now softening mass and gives if a soft kiss as it disappears back through the hole and with a free hand reaches out to unbuckle the belt of the new man moving in before her.  He too drops a token into the bowl, then leans in whispering something in the girl’s ear making her smile, and moves to the back of the crate to position himself in an available hole.

Ayden feels a pressure on her shoulder pressing her down and she turns her attention back to the businessman standing next to her who is calling out, “Guys we have another hungry girl right here.”  She hears a token clink against the bowl at her feet and watches as three men turn towards her briefly and then return their gaze to the girl in the crate.  Suddenly she feels a hand on her breast and the businessman pinches her nipple hard.  She realizes that while watching the girl in the crate her nipples have hardened into little firm apples and the pinch sends shivers down her spine.  He leans in close to her and slides his free hand under her shirt and caresses her belly and asks in a husky voice, “How hungry are you wild thing?”

“What?” she asks him breathlessly.

He gestures to the cushion, with his upturned palm as he slowly moves in behind the crate and tells her to, “Have a seat, girl.  I will feed that hunger I see in your eyes now.”

Ayden stumbles back a step away from the crate and the businessman.  She blurts out, “I’m sorry.  I guess I am not that hungry yet.”  When she turns to flee she hears him laughing jovially behind her and she feels the heat raising in her cheeks again as she pushes her way blindly through the crowd of men whose hands reach out to slow her.  She can feel them coarse against her skin and the muscles between her legs tighten.  She slows for a moment, pondering her empty stomach, but presses forward until she is free of the sea of men behind the stand.  Looking back over her shoulder watches as the businessman stands watching her with a smile on his face as he refastens his belt and gives her a little nod.  She nearly turns and goes back to the stand but before she can the man disappears into the crush of men around the girl in the other crate.

At the mouth of the pier Ayden finds a bench in the shade of a tree and drops herself down onto it, exhausted.  She closes her eyes and rests her head against the back of the bench to think.  A smile spreads slowly across her face as she wonders to herself what Meg is doing and what she would do if she were here.  It is just as she is letting her body relax and take in all that has happened that she hears a gravelly voice ask, “What are you smiling at girlie?”  Ayden’s eyes pop open in shock as she registers and elderly man standing before her with one hand on his hip.  He had an unruly beard that probably has not been trimmed in months but he has kind sparkling eyes.

There is something about him that unnerves her and she stands instantly and faces him.  She tries to explain, “Oh it is just that you would not believe the day that I have had and I am so hungry.”

Listening intently the elderly man bursts into laughter, “Well then why don’t you open your eyes and pick some fruit to eat, Girlie?” gesturing up into the tree over her head.  “Are you sure you are okay?” he asks with honest concern in his voice.

As Ayden looks up into the tree she sees that it is full of a soft flesh fruit that she does not fully recognize.  She reaches up and tries to grasp one but they are just beyond her reach.  She tries again, up on her tiptoes, but still she is unable to get to the fruit.  She sees the man watching her, a grin spreading over his wrinkled face and showing in his eyes.  “Could you help me please, Sir?” she asks.

The old man just lets out a deep belly laugh and says, “Oh no, Girlie.  This is the most fun I have had all week.  Tell you what.  You keep trying and when you get one you come over and see me and I will give you a little something to drink.”  Still laughing the man wanders off across the pier to a small rustic shop across from the tree and takes a seat kicking up he heals on an old saw horse he has there.

Ayden stretches and jumps but after several attempts she still has not managed to retrieve any fruit from the tree.  Gasping for air she plops her weary body down on the bench to think.  Catching her breath she looks at the ground thinking and then up at the fruit in the tree above her.  She sits there for a moment and then as a smile spreads across her face she brings the palm of her hand up and hits herself softly in the forehead.  Shaking her head and laughing silently she looks over at the old man who is leaning back in his chair watching her and is clearly amused by her antics.  Still smiling she stands up keeping her eyes fixed on the old man and takes a large step up and stands on the bench.  He grins at her and winks as she easily reaches up into the tree and grabs two of the largest and ripest of the fruit above her head and jumps off the bench with a triumphant thud.