“Come on,” Mike said, taking my hand. “Let’s get you some breakfast, and then we can explore.”
He led me back inside and ordered room service—fresh fruit, macadamia nut pancakes, Kona coffee that smelled like heaven. We ate on the lanai, the warm breeze carrying the scent of plumeria and salt water. Mike told me about the resort—how it had been built into the cliffside by a famous architect, how every room had an ocean view, how the black sand beaches were formed from ancient lava flows.
I found myself relaxing in a way I hadn’t in months, maybe years. Mike wasn’t demanding anything—sexual or otherwise. He was just… talking to me. Like I was a person he enjoyed spending time with, not just a body he’d purchased access to.
After breakfast, he took me on a tour of the grounds. The resort was breathtaking—infinity pools that seemed to spill directly into the ocean, private cabanas nestled among tropical gardens, a spa built into natural lava rock caves. We walked hand in hand along winding paths, and Mike pointed out exotic flowers and told me their Hawaiian names. I felt almost like a normal girl on a normal vacation with her boyfriend, except for the constant awareness of the seal between my legs and the memory of everything we’d done on the plane.
By lunchtime, we’d settled at an open-air restaurant overlooking the water. Mike ordered for both of us—poke bowls and Mai Tais—and as we ate, he asked me about the philanthropy app proposal.
“I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” I said, surprised by my own enthusiasm. “I mean, there are so many apps that connect donors to causes, but they’re all so impersonal. Just transaction platforms, you know? I want to create something that actually shows impact in real time. Like, if you donate to a school in Kenya, you could see photos and updates from that specific school. Maybe even video calls with the kids who benefit.”
Mike leaned forward, his eyes intent on my face. “Go on.”
“And the matching algorithm could be really sophisticated—not just based on what causes people say they care about, but on their actual values and interests. Like, if someone’s passionate about education and technology, match them with programs that teach coding to underprivileged kids. Make it personal.”
“I love that,” Mike said, and the warmth in his voice made my chest flutter. “You’re thinking about genuine connection, not just dollars moved. That’s exactly the kind of innovation that could disrupt the whole philanthropy sector.”
We talked for another hour, Mike asking thoughtful questions and offering suggestions that showed he was actually listening, actually taking my ideas seriously. By the time we finished lunch, I felt more alive than I had in months. Like maybe I was capable of something meaningful after all.
“Let’s go for a swim,” Mike said, signaling for the check.
Back in our room, I dug through my suitcase for the swimsuits I’d bought. My hand brushed against something hard wrapped in a t-shirt, and my stomach clenched as I remembered—the large plug. And beneath it, coiled like a snake, the martinet.
I pushed the thought away and pulled out the white microkini. Could I actually put it on? It had seemed acceptable—if barely—in the dressing room, but on the beach? I started to put it away.
“No,” I heard Mike say from behind me. “That one. Put it on.”
CHAPTER 23
Laura
My pussy clenched hard behind the seal at Mike’s flat command. I picked up the white microkini with trembling hands, the tiny triangles of fabric looking even more obscene in the Hawaiian sunlight streaming through the windows.
“Go ahead,” Mike said, settling into a chair to watch. “Put it on for me.”
I turned away, my face blazing, but his voice stopped me.
“No. Face me. I want to see.”
I forced myself to turn back around, dropping the robe with shaking hands. Being naked in front of him should have felt routine by now after everything he’d done to me and made me do, but somehow this was different. It seemed crazy, but the idea of putting on this bathing suit that I’d so unwisely picked out at the boutique—ofcovering upmy nakedness that way—suddenly seemed like the most mortifying thing imaginable. Like I would be somehow more naked than naked. Never mind that I would then have to wear the ultra-revealing thing outside…
I stepped into the bottoms first, pulling the tiny white strings up my hips. The fabric barely covered anything—just a small triangle over my sealed pussy that to my distress even seemed to show in outline the smooth, unnatural seam where my labia had been pressed together. The strings tied at my hips with little bows that felt absurdly innocent given how exposed I was. The tiny string between my still sore bottom cheeks left their twin roundness completely bare.
The top was even worse. I fumbled with the strings, finally managing to tie them behind my neck and back. My breasts were barely contained, my nipples almost visible through the thin white fabric. I stood there, arms at my sides, feeling more exposed than if I’d worn nothing at all.
Mike’s eyes darkened as they traveled over my body. I could see his desire, frank and unashamed, and it made my sealed pussy throb with desperate need. He was going to rip this off me, I was sure of it. He was going to tear away these pathetic scraps of fabric and finally—finally—open the seal and take what he’d been training me for. My heart hammered so hard I thought it might burst through my chest.
But instead, he just stood up and came to me, his hand cupping my cheek. “Perfect,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “Put some sunscreen on, and let’s go.”
I stared at him in confusion as he grabbed towels and his sunglasses. That was it? No deflowering? No ravishing? Just… swimming?
The walk to the beach felt like the longest of my life. I kept my eyes down, mortified by the way the microkini left me so exposed, so vulnerable. I was sure everyone was staring—the other resort guests, the staff, everyone. But Mike just held my hand and led me down the winding path to the black sand beach as if I were wearing a perfectly normal swimsuit, or maybe as if a billionaire like him had no qualms about dressing his younger girlfriend this way, about displaying her innocence so obscenely.
The water was wonderfully warm when we waded in, crystal clear with colorful fish darting between the lava rocks. Mike pulled me deeper, until the water reached my chest, and then wrapped his arms around me from behind.
“Relax,” he murmured into my ear. “Just enjoy this.”
I tried. I really did. The setting was paradise—the warm Hawaiian sun on my face, the gentle waves lapping at my shoulders, the tropical breeze carrying the scent of flowers. But all I could focus on was the emptiness in my bottom. I’d grown so accustomed to the plug over the past few days that its absence felt wrong, like I was missing something essential. My body kept clenching involuntarily, searching for the fullness that wasn’t there.
