Twisting off the lid of a fine Guiness Dark Ale, I take a deep draught and smile as the rich nutty flavor rolls over my tongue. Very cold, ahhh. How can they drink beer warm? Must be an acquired taste.

"Well, Nick, who do you think will be first?"

My First Mate was also enjoying his cold drink, but it was a root beer instead. No drinking and Mate-ing! (pun very intentional).
"I think BabySub will be first."

"How can you say that? She has the hardest predicament to overcome!"

"As the feistiest woman of the five, I really think she can overcome her bondage quicker."

"Perhaps, perhaps. But can she get past the secondary traps? Being first, in this case, does not necessarily mean to win."

He looked at me, puzzled. I hadn't told him about those; what a man does not know, he cannot tell. You never know what might come up in pillowtalk. He would see. I bent down to my haversack and pulled out a small monitor. It was connected to hidden cameras all over the island. We flicked from one to another, and followed the progress of the five women.

The two at the first trap had both gotten their hands free, and had gotten out of the rope binding them together. The keys weren't in their hands yet; the ice hadn't melted enough. They sat and talked to each other rather than cooperating, and likely would lose because of it.

BabySub had figured out her trap; obvious as she grasped at the ice containing the keys. She was suffering tremendously by pushing down on the footrest, her breasts deformed by the mean clips on them. Every now and then, she stopped everything to shudder with another orgasm thanks to the butterfly vibe and the dildo inside her. She frequently unclenched those pussy muscles and would almost crash down; yet she would rise again, punishing herself to get free. Her tanned body ran with rivulets of perspiration, testaments to her struggle. A few small drops of blood stained her top as well, due to the harsh clips there.

The last two ladies were still looking at the ice. They had not yet figured out that their knots could be gotten at by simple cooperation, as they would be accessable to their partners. Here, too, the vibes had done their work; several insects were attracted by their girl-honey on the log.

Suddenly, BabySub's wrists came free! She had gotten the ice melted sufficiently to release the key. A few seconds later she had figured how to dismount the dildo, though her first few steps appeared painful. She was walking a little bow-legged.

Now came an interesting part. Nick and I had laid (ahem) a small bet. I said that BabySub would stop to help her sisters, while Nick had bet against that. The winner got a lead part in the punishments for the contest's loser. And for some of the winners, perhaps, as well.

We watched closely as BabySub looked up and down the trail, trying to figure which way to go. She made up her mind, and returned to the first clearing to assist those two in getting free. Seeing the two chatting, she told them to cooperate on melting the ice or they'd be last to return to the beach! Turning, she dashed uptrail past her tormenting place and on, in search of her other two friends.

Looking at Nick, I smiled and offered him double or nothing that BabySub would still get back first. He stared back at me, ("foolish man!) and nodded.

BabySub located the third clearing, and told the two to untie each other's ropes, then to use their hands or mouths to melt the ice. She made another smart decision then; she continued on the trail, as we had done, figuring (I later learned) that we would have taken the safest way.

Following through on that judgement,she ran along the trail and found the fourth clearing. Scanning the area and finding nothing, she turned to continue along the trail. And ran straight into the quicksand pit I'd had placed there.

Seeing this, Nick exclaimed, "Sneaky bastard, aren't you?" I smiled once again, and offered to add a night in bondage as an additional part of the bet. He gawked at me for a moment, his mouth hanging open in surprise. "Darn right, I'll take that bet!" he said, quickly as though I might withdraw the offer.

The first two ladies had, by this time, gotten completely free. 40 yards or so down the trail, following backwards the way they had come up from the beach, they sprung the second trap and fell through the false trail carpet, and fell down into the ten-foot-deep hole. Although the bottom was padded with soft grasses and thick plants, they were a little stunned and took a few minutes to shake off the shock. They immediately started to climb the sides of the hole, and found the ground there soft and crumbling. They had not learned from the exercise at all, as there were at least three ways to get out. They simply had not tried teamwork.

The final two, had gotten out of the ropes and melted the keys out of the ice blocks. Trying their keys on their leg entrapments, they found neither worked! Another case of poor judgement, as I had promised them they could get themselves back to the beach, and thus it was possible. As a matter of fact, two different ways were available to excape; rather, they laid on the log and cried.

Our heroine, BabySub, had stopped to consider how to get out. She knew not to struggle, as that was the reason most people who were killed in quicksand died. Rather, she gently reached down with the toes of one foot, and searched for the bottom. Her reasoning of the problem was clear; no WAY would I allow one of them to die. Sure enough, she found the bamboo ramp under the sand, swung her other foot down, and simply walked out. Ten yards further along, she found a five gallon water jug, with a pump sprayer. She sluiced herself down to wash off the remaining sand and mud, then grabbed one of the smaller bottles along side. Taking a deep drink to restore herself, she resumed jogging along the trail; eyes sharp for any other traps.

As such, she walked out of the jungle on the far side of the beach, swaggered to the cooler, and selected a tropical fruit wine cooler. Draining it in one swallow, she replaced the empty, turned and knelt in front of me.

Nick's jaw dropped. He *hated* bondage. Heh heh heh. Foolish man, eh?

The ladies from the third clearing were next to arrive. They had missed the quicksand and kept on the trail (which saved them being trapped again; I had six more out there). They too offered respect at my knees, and I allowed them to pick any non-alcoholic beverage from the cooler.

It was nearly two hours later that I sent Nick to rescue the first two. Working independently, they still had not figured how to get out. My First Mate crouched at the side of the hole and suggested that one get on the other's shoulders; she would than find the rope at the side of the hole to extricate the other lady. Or, he offered, just dig together in the same side of the pit; soon it would be a ramp up and out. They followed him back, dirty and disgusted.

"Aha!" I cried. "The prodigals return!" The other three laughed a little, but knew it could just as well have been them.

"What did we learn from this, ladies?"

Long silence, as I had told BabySub to keep still. Finally, one of the last two said, "Teamwork, Sir?"

I smiled at her, and took ten spanks off her punishment.

"Exactly, yellowrose. Teamwork. Both the first and the third traps required teamwork.... but ALL of them could be gotten out from because I TOLD you they were escapable. I know you all needed BabySub's help, as she was the only one to use teamwork to escape... along with her common sense.

"First two, you had already escaped using teamwork from BabySub. Yet you did not think of it when trapped again. Third two, again it took outside help. And it took an hour to figure you could trade keys and open the correct locks to go with the keys. Or, you could have simply slid your legs off the ends; they were outside the mounting posts for the log!

"Thus, to the victors go the spoils. BabySub, you will get to pack the chairs and cooler into the boat, and accompany Nick and me back to Sailing Master.
Second two finishers, I will return for you in the boat. You get to row us back to Sailing Master; no motors for you. Last two? You get to swim back to the ship, and no starting until the second two have reached the ship. You'll also get to wash the dirt off in the ocean, while the other three get onboard showers, and BabySub gets hot water. Oh, last two? You have kitchen duty tonight: I expect dinner on the table in 2 hours. Better swim fast!"

By this time, BabySub already had the cooler in the lifeboat, and was kidding the other four, kindly, about losing. We unceremoniously dumped the other four from the beach chairs, and carried them to the boat.

Another fun day. And what promises to be a fun night as well.