Eyes followed her as she straddled the floatie and climbed on, legs spread, thighs sliding apart on wet plastic. She settled into the curve of it, chest arched high, her nipples barely held by the stretched pink triangles. The sun…

She was breathing heavy now, every inhale a hiss of tanked air. She couldn’t even scream. Just moans. Just vibrations. “Cum for us, float girl,” the domme whispered again. “Or we drown you in lube and ride you ‘til morning.”…

Her cum mixed with the sweat, oil, and water on the float. It pooled under her ass as she thrashed, overfilled, overstimulated, still strapped down and buzzing. But they weren’t done. From the shadows of the poolside, two more figures…

then lower—just above her bikini line. Her dive hood squeaked against the oil-slick skin. She peeled the bottoms aside and blew a hot breath over the girl’s bare, slippery clit. The sensation nearly shattered her. She clenched around nothing, thighs…

Then she climbed on top again—slick rubber against sweaty bikini, mouth sealed by scuba gear, wet bodies locked in place. They bounced. They writhed. They floated. She came like a wave breaking, writhing against the restraints as the float creaked…