Hope Floats Part 1: Table Service

Part 1: Table Service

The wheels of the landing gear made an audible screech as they touched down on the runway at La Isabela; it was a sound that was as commonplace as the dull pinging of the buttons that passengers pressed to summon the attention of the harassed cabin crew and nothing to spare even a moment of thought over. But to know that for a fact would require a person to have flown on more than one occasion and as with so many things in life, this was Hope Carpenter’s first time in the air on anything that went higher than a playground swing.

Her hands went rigid on the arms of her seat as the plane slowed on the runway, which would have been embarrassing enough on its own had they been unoccupied. Of course the arms were already in use and rather than dig her fingers into the inert plastic, she instead drove them into the flesh of the people sitting on either side of her.

In retrospect she decided that she was simply lucky those seats were occupied by her friends rather than random strangers.

Geoff, sitting on her right sucked air through gritted teeth while Marie on the left let out a sharp cry and turned away from the window to fix her younger companion with a concerned look that quickly turned to one of amusement.

“Is the meal repeating on you?” Marie shook her head. “I told you to have the meat instead of the fish!”

“Here’s a tip,” Geoff joined his wife in exacting a small modicum of revenge on Hope for her mauling of his hand, “always push your head further forwards than they tell you, that way when we crash you can be sure to kiss your own ass goodbye.”

“We’ve stopped?” Hope ignored their jibes and strained to see out of the window.

Marie nodded and bobbed her head as she tried to let Hope get a clear view.

“Did you know that this is the first Western settlement in the New World?” the anxiety had drained away from Hope’s face as she stared out of the tiny portal. “Columbus himself laid the foundation stone himself.”

“No,” Geoff raised his eyebrows at his wife behind Hope’s head, “but I’m not surprised that you do.”

The stream of informative chatter from Hope continued as they fought through the obligatory round of standing and shuffling to make it off the plane and into the airport arrivals lounge. Geoff and Marie had long since learnt to accept the fact that Hope was a compulsive reader and absorbed all the information she could about a subject that concerned her. It was just one of those little quirks that you had to either deal with in a friend or seriously contemplate pushing them off of the nearest tall building.

They sailed through immigration happily without an issue and were soon seated on the designated coach that would carry them the distance from La Isabela to Caliente Caribe. They were no more than ten minutes on the road when Hope began to worry again.

“Should I call this Mr Lennox now?” Hope’s face appeared over the back of her seat and stared down at her friends.

“How should I know,” Marie closed the book she had been trying to read since before their plane had taken off some hours ago now, “do you have a signal?”

“Just about,” Hope brandished her mobile, “but what if he’s busy?”

“When did he tell you to call him?”

“He didn’t.”

“He didn’t tell you to call him?”

“No,” Hope shook her head, “he told me to meet him in the foyer when we got to the clubhouse.”

“So why do you want to call him?” there was a little exasperation slipping into Marie’s voice regardless of how hard she tried to keep things pleasant.

“I just thought he might have changed the plan and forgotten to call me, I did that once myself and ended up sitting in a coffee house for three hours while the guy I was supposed to meet was sitting on a bench in the middle of the park just a block away.”

“Don’t worry,” Geoff chipped in to save his wife, “I’m sure someone who’s responsible for running even a small part of an event like this is far and away from being as scatter-brained as you.”

“You’re sure?” Hope grabbed for the reassurance in his words as what could have been taken as a casual insult passed her by.

“I’m sure,” they replied, almost in perfect unison.

“You must be Hope,” the man who came striding across the lobby of the clubhouse with his hand outstretched and a wide smile on his face was not what she had been expecting. Not that Hope really had a mental image of the man she knew only as “Mr Lennox” from a string of emails. But she had not been expecting someone so clean cut and physically intimidating as the man who was now towering over her.

“Mr Lennox?” it seemed obvious, but Hope really did not know what else to say.

“Of course,” Lennox beamed again and crushed her hand in his own.

Hope had met many people involved in the fetish community and had to admit that they always seemed to defy the mainstream stereotype, coming from many walks of life. But at what must have been almost six and a half feet in height, broad and full of muscle and sporting a head of hair that was perhaps no more than a fraction of an inch from a shaved pate, Lennox was a new one as far as she was concerned. He wore a short-sleeved white shirt and khaki trousers, which only served to add to the impression that he had just stepped out of the marines and still had no real idea how a civilian dressed.

“Good, good,” he motioned for her to follow him back across the lobby and towards an open door, barely pausing to see that she was behind him as he almost marched towards his destination.

Hope quickly glanced over her shoulder to wave at Marie and Geoff as they were checking in with their luggage and her own. They had agreed that they would collect her room key and keep hold of her bags until she could pick them up some time later in the day.

Beyond the door she found herself in a small office that was barely large enough to accommodate a desk and two chairs, competing for space as it was with Lennox’s physical presence. He motioned her to the seat in front of it as he sat down behind it and reached for a file that sat on top of a neat pile to his left.

“I really am glad you could make it,” Lennox spoke as he thumbed through the file and then looked up at Hope, “I trust the flight was without incident?” When she nodded he nodded back. “As I was saying, I really am happy to have you here under these circumstances. We’ve had some last minute notices of cancellation from some of the performers that we were counting on and having you here in order to fill some of the gaps is a great help.”

“Happy to be of service,” Hope really did not know what else to say once again, something about the unadulterated wholesomeness of Lennox in contrast to the distinctly adult and unrestrained nature of the event he was a part of left her on the wrong foot.

“Of course,” he seemed none the worse for her lack of wit, “now let’s get down to business.”

This was the part of the conversation that Hope had been anticipating with a mixture of fear and excitement. On her income as a student, there was no way that she would have been able to afford the price of attendance at such a large fetish event as this.

But she was lucky enough to have her own fairy godmother in the form of Marie, an older woman who had been on the scene for long enough to know the people who knew the people who organised the whole thing. She had made some calls and bent a few ears before delighting Hope with the news that there was a place for her, free of charge.

There was a condition, of course; Hope would be required to spend no more than half of her time at the event working on behalf of the organisers. She had agreed and her place had been booked alongside her older friends, but there had been no mention of just what she would be required to do in order to pay for her vacation.

Marie and Geoff had shared anecdotes with her about what went on at the resort when this event was taking place. They themselves had attended on more than half a dozen occasions and the stories made the experience sound to Hope like a world in which all the things that excited her behind closed doors back home happened boldly in the light of day. Immersed as she was in the games and kinks that they mentioned, it still seemed somehow improbable to her that those things could actually become somehow normal and accepted out in the open.

Now she was on the brink of discovering just what was in store for her, Hope felt a familiar thrill at the prospect of both the unknown and the possibilities of what lay ahead.

“The first thing that we’ll need some help with is the opening ceremony this evening,” an apologetic tone entered Lennox’s voice, “I am sorry to have to press you into service so soon after your arrival, but this is the situation that we find ourselves in.”

“No,” Hope was still stumbling thanks to her being wrong-footed by Lennox and the prospect of being so close to the unknown nature of her employment was making things worse, “it’s fine by me…glad to be a help!”

“Good,” the can do attitude seemed to strike a chime with Lennox and he happily went on, “now tell me, how are you with bondage and latex?”

“Fine, not a problem with the former and no allergies to the latter either. Did you know though that some estimate that up to eight percent of the general population do? Have an allergy to latex, that is. Quite a number when you consider that there are more than twelve thousand plants that are known to produce the stuff.”

“Really?” Hope was amazed that the look on Lennox’s face seemed to indicate that he was actually intrigued by her nervous regurgitation of facts. Either that or the military background she was ever surer he came from had equipped him to keep his true feelings from showing through his expression. “You learn something new every day! So you should have no problem with the first job that I have for you then.”

“You mentioned the opening ceremony?”

“Yes,” he spread his hands, “it’s a few hours in which we get everyone together for cocktails, light refreshments and give them a preview of what the event has in store for them, that kind of thing.”

“Oh, I can wait tables,” Hope was a little deflated that her first job was something so mundane, “I used to have a job doing just that a few semesters back.”

“We actually have all the waiting staff we need,” Lennox waved her comments away, “what we’re short of are the tables themselves.”

It was not long before Hope began to reflect on the fact that she had been totally wrong to think that her first official job would be something perfectly ordinary. She had been escorted straight from Lennox’s office to a low building that hid behind a small hill beyond the last of the structures that were really a part of the complex. The silent man in overalls who led the way pointed her inside and promptly turned to leave her standing in front of a pair of utilitarian doors that she presumed would lead her to her ultimate destination.

Inside was a scene of organised chaos as a myriad of people hurried to prepare everything that was needed to make a ceremony at a fetish convention so very different to any other event. In her confusion, Hope was not able to make out any real detail of what was actually going on, but she picked up familiar sounds and smells that filled in some of the gaps for her.

“Hey,” Hope turned to see a harassed woman in green shorts and a black vest top staring at her in irritation, “no guests allowed!”

“What…no, I’m here to work…my name’s Hope.”

“Well why didn’t you say so,” the woman put an arm around her shoulder. “I’m Alison, sort of a combination of hands on manager and animal tamer when it comes to backstage. So what are you here to do, exactly?”

“Mr Lennox said something about you needing tables?”

“Good, follow me.”

Alison led her to a corner of the room and behind a screen that hid them from the hubbub of the surroundings. Once they were alone she pointed to what looked like the rudiments of both a bondage outfit and the constituent elements of a table.

“Ever been strapped up in one of these before?”

Hope shook her head.

“Thanks for being honest,” Alison started to arrange parts of the outfit on a table in front of her, “there’s nothing worse than having to come running to the aid of some fool who’s more full of bravado than sense. Now how about you strip off and we’ll see how you fit?”

Hope, thankful for the privacy afforded her by the screen, began to remove her clothes as Alison talked her through the job ahead.

“Basically we cuff your hands and ankles while you kneel with this against your back,” she pointed to a metal pole attached to a circular base and fitted with various loops and buckles, “then strap them together so you’re pretty much hogtied. Your head goes through this hole in the top of the table after we put the two halves together round your neck and then we cover you, lock, stock and barrel with a skin of latex.”

“Should I go to the bathroom now?”

“No need,” Alison held up what looked like a swimming costume made of rubber and fitted with an assortment of familiar devices, “you wear this under the latex and it takes care of that side of things as well as making the whole thing a bit more interesting for everyone involved.”

Hope was naked by now, her fair skin showing goose-bumps and her hands playing nervously with her tightly curled brown hair.

“Looks like you’re ready to get started,” Alison tossed the inner element of the costume to Hope, who caught it and began to pull the thing on guided by instinct and guesswork.

As soon as she had pulled the garment on, Hope recognised its functions in the shape of a set of tubes and bags that would keep her from needing a comfort break and a fairly robust-looking vibrator that was built into the crotch and came to nestle against her intimate parts as she made a few final adjustments.

“Perfect fit,” Alison beckoned her over to the metal pole and guided her down so that padded hooks on either side came to rest beneath her armpits. Next she steered Hope’s knees into a pair of padded cups at the bottom so that she was suspended perhaps four or five inches from the ground. Her wrists and ankles were shackled with cuffs attached to the pole and then pulled together and both strapped together behind her back. Alison slipped strong elastic strips around Hope’s middle, pulling them tight against the undergarment and forcing her back to align with the pole. Larger bands of elasticated material were pulled down over her head and onto her doubled over legs making it almost impossible for her to move them. At the same time her arms were strapped together as well so that there was no part of Hope’s body able to move freely, save for her head.

“Comfortable?” under the circumstances Alison’s question seemed quite absurd, but hope nodded all the same. “Good,” Alison came into view before Hope, “let’s see if everything’s working.”

She tapped something in the vicinity of Hope’s groin with the toe of her boot and the next thing the trussed up girl felt was a sudden surge of stimulation as the vibrator came to life for a few seconds. Short as it was the effect made Hope cry out in a short expression of shocked excitement and she was disappointed despite herself when it passed.

Alison left Hope to recover for a few moments before returning with a swimming cap that she smoothed Hope’s hair beneath before pulling a black latex hood over the top. The hood left Hope’s face visible, but covered by a creamy, opaque layer of far thinner latex that followed the contours of her face, but rendered the finer details indistinct and reminiscent of those of a doll.

With the hood in place, Alison and a hastily summoned assistant slotted the two halves of the tabletop in place around Hope’s neck and then produced a long tube of latex material that would provide the final outer skin for the costume. One end they pinned in place around the hole through which her head emerged before stretching the tube over the tabletop and underneath where a ring around the same hole below pulled the fabric tightly to the shape of the thing. From there the latex was rolled down Hope’s body where it made smooth all of the details of the undergarment and emphasized instead the shape of her bound form. A second metal ring gathered the material at the base where the other end was finally pinned in place.

Alison stood back and admired her work.

“You could eat your dinner off that,” she joked to her assistant before they turned and walked away.

Hope, for her own part, was surprised to be suddenly left on her own in such a compromising position. After she had been treated with a degree of care by Alison while she was being dressed, the fact that she had suddenly stopped talking to her and instead paid more human attention to her assistant before simply leaving her on her own was unexpectedly hurtful.

She turned her head from one side to the other, but could see no sign of anyone else behind the screen.

Hope realised that she was very much alone.

Left with nothing to do but contemplate the night ahead, she tried as best she could to imagine what being a table would entail. Hope supposed that she would be expected to play along and be nice for the sake of whoever ended up using her that evening, no matter who they might be.

It was then that she realised why Alison had stopped talking to her and instead begun to talk about her. As soon as Hope had been secured in the costume she had gone from being a person that was being talked through the process to being an object that the woman was preparing for the evenings festivities.

A part of Hope’s mind began to protest the treatment and insist that she was being exploited, but then the weight of her thoughts shifted and she recalled the nature of the event she was a part of and the grounds on which she was attending. She reminded herself that she was not attending a conference on the advancement of the feminist cause; rather she was emancipating herself in a different way, celebrating her right to self-determination by choosing to give it up for a short time of her own accord.

If she was honest, it had always been the feeling of that small germ of outrage that had attracted Hope to the scene in the first place. She found that there was something liberating and dangerous about the act of freely allowing herself to be used much like an object while her mind still told her that she was being exploited during the experience.

Hope found hat the attitude of Alison and her assistant seemed to be the norm for the other people working backstage. They attended to their duties and never seemed interested in taking advantage of someone trussed up as she was. Perhaps they were strictly professional, or maybe the threat of disciplinary action hung over their heads as far as their helpless charges were concerned. Either way they treated Hope in the manner one would have expected a inanimate and yet delicate object to be handled as she was lifted onto the back of a trolley with two other living tables and wheeled slowly out of the room.

None of her fellow tables made any effort to speak to Hope or even look in her direction; instead they seemed to be lost in their own thoughts with their heads almost sagging forwards in sleep. From what she had seen of them, Hope was sure that they had been prepared in very much the same way and were distinguished only by their physical differences. The first table was a woman with a figure far fuller than Hope’s own, her impressive breasts threatening to make it hard for anyone to fit their own legs under the tabletop. The table in front of Hope was a man whose wiry limbs were picked out impressively by the latex, but her attention was snatched away by the realisation that his penis had been accommodated by the latex and was front and centre for the amusement of whoever happened to be sitting around him.

The experience of being treated as an object helped Hope to fill in the gaps as far as what was expected of her and started to fix in her mind the character of the part she was playing. Soon she had accepted the fact that no one spoke to her or asked her permission before they moved her around or placed their hands on her body. She found it harder and harder to pay attention to what was happening around her and more often than not her eyes simply gazed down at her tabletop or slipped shut as if in a doze.

The trolley was wheeled out into the warm air of the evening and into a area beside a pool that had been cleared to accommodate a small stage and space for an audience.

As she was unloaded from the trolley and moved into position amongst what seemed like dozens of other living tables, all with similarly submissive expressions on their masked faces, Hope accepted the feel of the hands that brushed her body without much in the way of conscious thought. She kept in her mind the image of statues and carvings made to resemble the human form, trying to think of her own body as nothing more than a piece of furniture that happened to have been made in that same shape.

By the time barstools had been arranged around her and a number of bowls containing various and sundry snacks placed on her tabletop, Hope had managed to lull herself into a state of mind where the fact that she had been made into a table could not have been farther from her thoughts. All that mattered was that in the here and now was that she was a table and there was nothing more to it. Tables did not have opinions, stories to share or issues with their situation, they just sat there and got on with it.

It was only when Hope felt the sensation of something being placed on her tabletop that she realised she had fallen into a light sleep after being put in place and then left alone. Seemingly she had been asleep for some time as the air was now filled with the sound of conversation and people were milling about amongst the tables. Something was happening on the stage, but as she was facing in the opposite direction, her ears muffled by the hood, Hope had no idea of what was taking place up there.

Hope blinked to clear her eyes and saw that what had been deposited on her tabletop was a pair of rather over the top cocktails. She chanced a quick scan around and saw the owners of the drinks pulling back the stools that had been placed next to her and felt her heart judder in her chest as she recognised their faces.

Marie and Geoff; of all the people at the resort, her own friends were the ones that had chosen to sit at her table. Beneath the hood, Hope’s face flushed with embarrassment. She had never even considered her friends seeing her being used as a human table, let alone actually having them sit down and make use of her.

“This is new,” Geoff eased himself onto the stool and took a sip of his drink, “seems like they’re going all out right from the start this year.”

“You’re not kidding,” Marie took a moment to glance under the tabletop before she sat down, “should I be jealous that you chose to sit around such a fine female specimen as this one?”

“You mean this isn’t a man?” Geoff’s sarcastic apology made his wife shake her head and laugh, “I really hadn’t noticed. We can always move to another table so that you can appreciate the aesthetics more.”

“No,” Marie slipped a discrete hand under the table and caressed one of Hope’s breasts through the latex, “this will do just fine; plenty to amuse myself with here.”

The sudden and unexpected caress took Hope by complete surprise and she bit her lip as Marie’s dexterous fingers played with her in a distracted manner, all the time her attention split unequally between conversation and manipulation.

She thought at first that her friends were playing along with the idea that she was to be treated as an object and not making themselves known to her as a result. But Hope soon realised that they had simply failed to recognise her beneath the hood and in her current circumstances. Neither of them was unfamiliar with the sight of Hope’s naked body, but the combination of holiday spirits, a few drinks and the extreme nature of the bandage in which she was held had rendered her a stranger to them.

This new anonymity only served to add to the feeling in Hope that she had become a conscious object, seeing her own friends convinced of the fact as well. There was also an element of voyeuristic intrigue for her as she was able to watch and listen to them as they behaved as though they were pretty much alone. Hope knew that Marie and Geoff were a very open-minded couple and enjoyed this kind of thing immensely, but she was aware that there was always an element of acting in the face that people chose to show even to their friends. To have the chance to see behind it was intriguing, despite the extremes in which that chance had presented itself.

The first thing that Hope discovered was the fact that Marie was very good with her hands. During all the time they were sitting around her, there were few times when she was able to recall both of her friend’s hands being visible above the tabletop. Hope found that she was straining against her bonds more and more as Marie pinched and stroked her through the latex with the same casual attention that one might have given to sending a text message while eating a meal.

All the time the conversation between the couple continued as if nothing out of the ordinary were going on. They watched the stage, commented on other guests and finished their drinks before Geoff rose from his seat and meandered towards the bar to fetch more.

As soon as he was gone, Marie slipped her foot out of her sandal and manoeuvred her toes into the vicinity of Hope’s groin. She stroked the surface of the latex and watched the reaction on the hooded face in the middle of the tabletop. Hope felt a deeper flutter of sensation than ever and the feeling showed as she raised her chin and closed her eyes with the pleasure of the Marie’s attention.

She applied more pressure and inadvertently tripped the vibrator lying until that moment inert against the lips of Hope’s vagina. Suddenly the vibrations began and both of them were taken by surprise for a moment before Marie laughed and pushed the device harder against the sensitive flesh. Hope’s eyes closed as she struggled to keep from crying out and her lips parted as she drew in breath.

“What seems to have gotten into our erstwhile piece of furniture?” Geoff placed the new round of drinks on the table and gestured at Hope’s head as she moved with the effects of the vibrator.

“She comes complete with working parts,” Marie could hardly take her eyes off the intimate show that was going on right in front of her, “vibrator in the crotch, very nice.”

“Those are some oral gymnastics,” Geoff seemed to have become hypnotised by the motion of Hope’s lips and tongue as she gasped and pouted. “I’d love to put something in there right about now, but I don’t think I could get away with that even here!”

“Next best thing is to watch,” Marie gave him a quick wink before she deftly inserted the first two fingers of her left hand into Hope’s half open mouth. With the other hand she discreetly reached over into Geoff’s lap and began to stroke his penis through the fabric of his shorts.

Hope was in no position to resist as Marie’s digits slipped into her mouth and within moments she was pulling them in with an urgency that caught her friend off guard. Though she had been stimulated by the motion of the vibrator and teased by the caressing of her breasts, Hope was a woman who responded with passion to the feeling of penetration. If she could not feel her body entered from below, then the reality of another person’s entry above was something she would seize upon for all it was worth.

Geoff watched, his throat gone dry after his mouth hanging open, as Hope seemed to try to swallow his wife’s fingers whole. All the time Marie’s right hand, which had now managed to find its way inside his shorts while hidden under the table, massaged his penis. The effect was not perfect, but it was as close as Marie was able to come to actually serving as a connection between her husband’s manhood and the vigorous attention of Hope’s eager mouth.

Finally Hope’s body shuddered enough to shake the entire table and threaten to spill their drinks as she climaxed.

The sight of her peak also resulted in Geoff spilling something else seconds later.

As Hope sank into a delirious state of near torpor, Marie turned to her husband with a smile.

“I think we’ve had our moneys worth out of this little piece of furniture for the evening. How about we leave her to sleep it off and you think about going to the bathroom to get cleaned up?”

14.06.12