The night air is thick with salt and pine as Ethan and Caleb drag me down the moonlit path to the private boathouse. My wrists are already bound in front of me with soft yacht rope; my sundress was ripped off the second we left the house and now lies somewhere in the grass. I’m completely naked except for the rope and the dried c*m still streaking my thighs from the wine-cellar f*****g. The wooden dock creaks beneath us, water lapping gently at the pilings, stars glittering overhead like a thousand watching eyes.
They waste no time.
Caleb shoves me down onto my back in the center of the wide dock. The boards are cool and slightly damp against my spine. Ethan loops the rope around an iron cleat, stretching my arms high above my head until my shoulders burn. Caleb grabs my ankles, wrenchin
