The Fishbowl
by Jo

Jane surfaced again, her world coming more into focus. She was in a strange bed. It was soft, kind of like a futon pad, pillow soft. Speaking of pillow, there wasn't one. She raised her head, opened one eye. Nope. No pillow. No bedding, either. And she was naked.

She saw her reflection in the glass. The curtain was drawn and the room was darkish. It dawned on her that the curtain was on the other side of the glass.


She rolled onto her back and did a scan. She felt fine, a bit groggy, but her head was clearing. She checked down there. Nope, she hadn't had sex. Not that she was against sex, but if she had it she'd liked to have remembered it.

She became aware of a soft, whirring sound. She opened her eyes. There was a large disk on the ceiling. There was an opening in the middle. It was a fan. She could see the blades turning.

Jane stretched, flung out her arm, rapped her knuckles on a wall.


She propped herself up on her elbow. The reflection stared back.

"What the ..."

Jane sat up. Her eyes adjusting to the dim light. She could see her reflection on both sides, but not front and back - until she looked up. She was surrounded by glass. At the bottom near the ends of the pad were several, small holes and she thought she could feel a faint wafting of air. She stood.

She was in a jar, or bowl.

A fishbowl!

It was your garden variety, glass fishbowl, but in size extra large. Jane ran her hands over the glass. Flat panes left and right, curved sections front and back. She looked up.

The circular thing was a lid. She reached for it, but it was a good two feet beyond her grasp.

She walked in circles several times, running her fingers over the clear surface. No door, no nothing. No way in or out except through the top.

And then she remembered the day before, the night before, when she had descended the stairs into what? She didn't know.

Light flooded in. Jane squinted against the brightness. When she opened her eyes she was looking through a window. Far below she could see the beach. There were a couple of guys surfing.

Jane turned, nearly shrieked, hands rising to cover boobs and bush.

He was there, Geoffrey, standing casually, hands in pockets, those liquid brown eyes piercing her soul. She lowered her gaze. He pointed, Jane knelt. He gestured, she spread her knees. He snapped his fingers. She couldn't hear, but the motion caught her eye. She glanced up. He made another gesture and Jane moved her hands behind her back, crossed her wrists as if bound. She lowered her eyes again.

Jane knelt in the fishbowl. Geoffrey stepped away and returned with a glass of something brown. Scotch?

He settled in a chair. Jane knelt, naked, legs open, head bowed.

* * *

"It's supposed to be a good party, not one of those Animal House deals. The guy's got a house down by the beach. Cindy knows him."

Cindy was a friend of Marge's. She seldom spoke of her, but Jane guessed they were tight. They took the bus from town, rode for a few miles, got off and walked the four blocks to the beach.

The house was big, not a mansion, but big. It was on a little spit of land surrounded by vegetation.

"Should we ring the bell or just go in?"

Before they could reach a decision the door opened.

"Hi. I'm Geoffrey. Come on in."

"Hi. We're friends of Cindy."

"Sure, sure. Come."

"I'm Marge and this is Jane."

They shook hands.

"A pleasure. Please," he gestured.

They followed him through a foyer into a large sunny room. Double doors opened onto the pool. There was several people, some couples, some singles. Not a crowd, but a good size group. Two couples were in the pool playing volleyball.

"What would you ladies like to drink? We have the obligatory keg, red wine on the table, white in the cooler."

"Beer works for me."

"Wine, please, white."

Geoffrey poured a beer, handed it to Marge. He poured two glasses of wine, handed one to Jane, touched his to hers.

"They look like glass, but they're plastic, so you can take them out to the pool. Oh and speaking of pool, there are fresh suits in that room." He pointed. "New, never worn. They're kind of like one size fits most. They're in plastic bags, so feel free to take them with you when you leave."

The girls sipped and nodded.

"So you're friends of Cindy? She's around somewhere. Maybe down on the beach."

He and Marge started making the usual small talk. Jane sipped her wine, if only to hide the fact that her hand was shaking. There was something about him, some aura.

He was average in almost every way. Average height, trim, fit, but not over muscled. He had a swarthy complexion, with longish black hair and a neatly trimmed beard. Jane couldn't guess his age. 20s? 30s?

But it was his eyes. He looked her with such intensity, with such focus. His eyes were deep brown, like pools of chocolate. Or more accurately, like tunnels or pits. Jane felt that at any second the law of gravity would be repealed and she'd fall, headlong into them. The pull was that strong.

"Well, enjoy yourselves. If you feel peckish, there's food in the kitchen. Help yourselves."

Geoffrey turned and walked away. Jane, still under his spell, took half a step to follow. But as he turned the spell was broken. She caught herself, changed direction, stepped over to the table, and grabbed a paper napkin.


Jane turned. Cindy grabbed Marge's hand, pulled her in for a kiss - a serious kiss. It went on for an uncomfortably long moment. They broke apart only to come back together for another quick peck.

"God! I've missed you."

"Me too."

Another kiss.

"Cindy, this is Jane, my roommate."

They shook hands, but Cindy's went right back to Marge's. Jane had a revelation: Marge was gay. She didn't act gay. She wore nice clothes, used makeup, but there were no guys in her life. Which wasn't so odd because there were none in hers either.

And then Marge lowered her eyes. Cindy leaned in and kissed her hair, whispered something in her ear. Marge nodded and whispered back. And Jane had her second revelation. She couldn't hear Marge, but her lips clearly said "Yes, Mistress."

Marge was not only gay, she was a sub. And now she had the answer to a question that had plagued her for months. When they met they had connected instantly, on some deep level, and Jane could never figure out what it was, what drew them together. The reason Marge had no men in her life was because she was into girls. The reason Jane had no men in life was because she was sub and good masters were few and far between.

But they were both submissive.

"Come on. I'll introduce you. I don't know everybody, but it'll get you started."

Cindy turned, then stopped.

"Oh. I think I forgot to mention this, but this isn't your typical spring break crowd. Yeah, we play beer pong, but they call it bra pong. And, yeah, penalties can include booze, but it usually involves clothing. And once the clothes are gone the penalties usually take a more riské, even kinky turn. You don't have to play if you don't want to. Not everyone does. But if you play, well, you'll have to pay. Just telling you."

Out by the pool Cindy made introductions. As she shook one girl's hand, Jane immediately noticed the ring, the Story of O ring the girl wore. Then she noticed the collars. Not many. Three or four. They looked like necklaces at first, but who wears a metal necklace with a bikini? One looked like a silver mesh choker. There were two concentric ovals on it. The inner was engraved with the word "rose." Slave name? Probably because Cindy introduced the girl as Tiffany. The outer oval was hinged open and there was a leash attached. Her partner in the adjoining chair held the leather strap.

Cindy caught her gaze.

"I told you things might get a bit kinky. Are you okay with that?"

"Oh sure. Yeah. Whatever floats your boat, right?"

Jane walked back into the house, went into the side room. The bathing suits were in clear plastic bags on the bed. Against the wall were nooks. Some had clothes in them. She chose a blue, one-piece. It was kind of an electric blue, a bit bright for her tastes, but the cut was modest, and it fit. She hoped to slip down to the beach. Truth be told she wasn't a party girl. And the fact that she'd never done a group scene thing made her especially antsy.

Distracted, Jane stepped out of the room and straight into Geoffrey's arms.

"Well. Fancy running into you here."

Jane felt her cheeks flush. He held her for a moment, the briefest of moments, but it was enough. Enough for his scent to register. Enough for the feeling of his arms around her to register. The warmth of his body. It was, he was, a part of her, in that one brief instant. And then he stepped back.

"Lovely. It suits you, pardon the pun."

Jane felt her cheeks go a shade redder.

"Come, the pool's in use. I'll show you how to get to the beach."

He took her elbow and guided her to the table, refilled her wine.

"So, tell me about yourself."

She did.

Later, she watched the games, but didn't play. Cindy played bra pong, played poorly, but it was Marge who paid the penalty and she was soon both drunk and naked.

A group sat out by the pool playing spin the bottle, strip spin the bottle. Once naked the unlucky victim had to draw a slip from a bowl and do what it said. According to the rules, as she understood them, no one could leave the circle until everyone was naked. That took a while. And in the meantime everyone got to know each other a whole lot better.

Over at the dart board things got downright kinky. There were two couples and as the guys threw, the girls stripped, and points were totaled. Once one girl, the blonde, was had lost all of her clothing the penalties changed. First the winner tied her wrists behind her back. Then her partner scored twice and both girls were nude. But then the other guy scored twice. The blonde found herself sitting on the couch, legs spread and tied to the couch legs. The finishing touch was a bright red ball gag.

The guys threw once more and the dark haired girl lost. They added up the points. Jane did a quick total in her head. The winner had scored 178. They multiplied by 10 and that's how long, in seconds, she, the dark haired girl, had to go down on the blonde. Jane didn't do the math, but she noted that a half hour later the dark hair girl was still kneeling between the other's legs.

'Remind me again who won,' Jane thought.

"Do you play darts?"

Startled, Jane answered honestly, "Yes. Yes I do." Then immediately regretted it.

Geoffrey pulled the darts from the board, handed her three.

"301? 501? Cricket?"

"Crick," she said. She was good at cricket.

"Diddle for the middle?"

Jane nodded and threw a bull, a double bull.


He threw a triple 20.

"Ah well, 60 beats 50."


Nervous, Jane played just okay. At least she didn't embarrass herself, even hit a tip 18 and a trip 15 and a couple of doubles. Still it was Geoffrey's game all the way.

Poised to throw the winning dart, he stopped and turned.

"We haven't talked penalty."

Jane shook her head. "No, no we haven't"

"Spend the week with me. Here. There are worse ways to kill a spring break. And you don't strike me as a party girl."

Again those eyes. Again she felt her world tip.

Jane nodded.

Without taking his eyes off hers, he threw. Game over.

"I like pretty things," he said as he gestured around the room. "Some people lock their valuables away. I like to see them." He ran his hand over Jane's erect nipple. "To touch them."

They hadn't had sex - yet. But he had her remove the bathing suit, had her stand with her hands clasped behind her head, legs spread.

He stroked her, gently, all over.


Jane stood. Her legs trembled. Her mouth was dry. She licked her lips.

"Thank you, Master."

"No. Call me 'Sir.' At some point we may have that relationship. At some point you may wear my collar. And then you will be my slave and I will be your master. But for now, it's 'Sir', understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I have two rules: obedience and honesty - unquestioning obedience and total honesty."

"Yes, Sir."

He wrapped a plain leather collar around her neck, buckled it, clipped a leash to the chrome ring.


She followed Geoffrey back to the party. It was winding down. Some had already left.

"Okay, people, last call for alcohol."

A few came over for refills, most just said goodbye, shook his hand, and headed for the door. Cindy and Marge walked over. Marge seemed to have sobered up. She blinked at Jane. "Oh wow."

They said their goodbyes. Cindy led Marge out the door. Marge shot one last glance over her shoulder at her naked, collared roommate.

* * *

Geoffrey finished his drink. He disappeared again. Then there was noise above. The lid hinged upward, the narrow stairway extended into the fishbowl. Jane climbed the stairs.

She was momentarily disoriented. She wasn't drunk last night, but she'd been drinking. She remembered the spiral stairs, though, as she made her tenuous descent into the room from the top of the fishbowl. Geoffrey pointed.

"Through there. Towels in the closet. Fresh soap under the counter. Fresh toothbrush, too. Help yourself."

"Thank you, Sir."


Jane nodded. "Yes, Sir."

At breakfast he held up the plastic card.

"Where are you staying?"

"Oceanside, room 312."

"I'll get your things."

"Thank you, Sir."

Jane did the dishes, downed one more cup of coffee, used the bathroom one last time, then climbed the spiral stairs. The extending stairs descended and she walked back down into the fishbowl.

"Whenever I'm present you kneel properly. Understand? Otherwise, I don't care."

She looked up.

"Yes, Sir."

Jane knelt.

The End

Copyright© 2012 by Jo. All rights reserved.