A genuine slave ship - a wooden sailing ship, no less - was something that a person wouldn't expect to see in the first half of the twenty-first century. But here was one, sails set and cruising along on the empty sea toward some unknown destination. A week ago I would never have believed the story under any circumstances. Even now, the reality hadn't really sunk in.
There were some considerable differences between our vessel and those that plied the trade two hundred years ago, hauling half dead unfortunates across the Atlantic toward a life of bondage. For one thing, this one was spotless and the air below decks was fresh and cool. The food was good and no bodies were thrown overboard in the mornings.
And, while the females of those ancient voyages were probably used at will by the crew, I would wager that they had had nothing like I had experienced so far. Last night, at a luau straight from a Hollywood costumer, I was served by totally naked females, all of whom were available for my - our - use in any way desired. And as often. For myself, I had been worked over by a petite bombshell who finally left my nuts shriveled up like dried prunes. I night like I never dreamed I would have.
And it was just beginning...
A few days before.
Australia was nice. Especially after the frozen hell of Chicago that I had just left. It was summer here, the breeze off the ocean was cool, and the naked broads on the beach were pure eye candy. I had a flyer in my hand that had been delivered by a hotel flunky the previous evening. It promised a sojourn on a desert island, populated only by young women - all of whom were available on demand.
Only the wealthy need apply. Another way of saying that, if you have to ask, you can't afford it.
Being twenty seven years old, I didn't exactly have raging teenage hormones, but I could still enjoy the company of the opposite sex quite often - preferably horizontal and under me.
Looking at the flyer, then at the sign on the window, I knew that I had found the address. Inside was a small office with a woman sitting at a desk. It was no different than travel agent offices anywhere, even in the Internet age. Posters of various exotic destinations were on the wall, on stand up cutouts and playing on two different monitors in the waiting area. She smiled as I walked up to her desk and handed her the pamphlet.
"Ah, yes. Our premier exotic man cruise." She waved me to a chair. "It is invitation only, so you were recommended by one of our regular clients." I couldn't think of who that might be since I had no close friends in Australia. In fact, I had only been here four days. "You are interested?"
"Sure. Tell me about it."
"Certainly, sir." She pulled out a picture and handed it to me. A sailing ship. "You will travel aboard the Coral Sea Queen - first class, only, of course. Good food, your choice of any of the female crew members on board." What the fuck? Did she actually say that? Another picture. "This is the destination. It's a small island of the Andrion chain. Totally depopulated of course. Our company has a small compound on the south end." It looked like the normal vision of paradise - sapphire blue ocean, white sand beaches, young palms shading some grass huts. She looked at me intently for a second. "Quite frankly, Mr..."
"Harris. Bob Harris."
"...Mr. Harris, the be all and end all of this cruise is sex. All you want and when and how you want." She pushed over another picture - one of young cunts in triangle patch bikinis that barely covered the nipples and crack. "All of our girls are young, beautiful and of all types. All you have to do is lay on the beach and be served by our lovely girls." She waved her hand. "Of course, no one's waking hours can be entirely filled with sexual encounters. There is also skin diving, fishing, surfing and several other diversions."
I was sold, but she kept clinching the deal.
"On the day after you arrive, you may participate in the girl hunt. They will flee into the island and your mission will be to capture one. You will be armed - with non lethal equipment, of course - and when you find and seize the one you select, she will be dragged - by you - back to the compound in chains as your slave for the duration. She will do anything and everything you want, day and night. She is your property to be rewarded or punished at will. Or even traded to one of your fellows for a different female."
By now, I couldn't leave if I wanted to. My hardon would have stuck out enough to knock things off her desk. I nodded. "When and how much?"
She keyed something into her tablet, read, then entered some more. "The cruise that starts on Friday has two openings left." Two days from now. "The cost will be sixty five thousand dollars, US or AUS."
Wow. That was no small amount of money, although I could swing it easily. What the hell, I was young, wealthy and had no family. And my only hobby was dicking women. I handed her my credit card.
She shook her head. "Cash only, Mr. Harris. I'm sure you will realize that our exotic cruises aren't exactly looked on as kosher by the governments of the area. And for the anonymity of both of us, payment with specie is a requirement." That rang alarm bells in my mind and she immediately knew it. She continued with, "Obviously, you would be hesitant to just hand over such a large amount of untraceable currency with no receipt or public record. You can bring it with you at boarding time and not make the payment until you satisfy yourself that the ship and crew actually exist."
The boat was big. Not a full rigged ship that I had seen in pictures and books of the old days of sail, but she wasn't a mere weekend skiff, either. It was almost a hundred feet long and had three masts - a schooner, the woman at the travel office had called it. It was also immaculate for such an old vessel. I walked up the gang plank carrying an overnight bag and a briefcase and was met at the top by a delicious girl in a pseudo pirate uniform. The only thing she needed was an eyepatch. However, all I had eyes for was the overflowing bikini top and the hint of a twat slit peeking over the top of the thong bottom. The cute pirate head scarf I ignored. I could feel my johnson rising to full mast again.
"Welcome, Sir. Your name, please?" I gave it and she turned to another girl standing behind her and said, "Misty. Take Mr. Harris aft to the cabin."
I followed the bobbling crew member over the spotless deck and though a doorway in the rear of the boat. Inside was an... well, an office. With a desk, chairs and filing cabinets. Two people were already inside, both crew members from their skimpy attire. As we entered, my escort introduced me with, "Mr. Harris, Captain."
Ah. The one with the pirate hat was in charge. Again, young and beautiful, late twenties or so. She said, "Welcome aboard, Mr. Harris." The girl at the desk tapped something into her tablet, then said a single word, "Six."
At that the Captain said to my escort, "Cabin six." Then to me. "Stow your gear, Mr. Harris, then come on deck to watch the departure if you wish."
"Thank you," I said, then added, "Do you want me to pay now." I lifted my briefcase a little.
She waved it down. "No. There is plenty of time for that on the outbound cruise."
Shortly, I was in my cabin. Actually, cabin was a misnomer. What I was in would barely be a hall closet in my home. But it had a bunk and a porthole - all I needed.
I could count twelve girls and six male passengers all told. The small all-girl crew seemed competent enough as we cast off and began to slowly motor out of the harbor. Obviously there was a small diesel down below, since no sails had been set yet. As I stood at the rail watching the pier slowly recede, another passenger came over and took the same stance.
"Unbelievable holiday, wouldn't you say?" That word, instead of vacation, made him probably British. Of course, the thick accent also gave away his antecedents.
I looked at him. He looked like a file clerk - pasty white and somewhat out of shape, although he wasn't bad looking from a woman's standpoint - I guessed, not being an expert in that area. Of course, no mere paper pushing employee could have possibly afforded this jaunt, so he was probably a business owner in the islands.
I extended my hand. "Bob Harris."
He did the same. "Patrick Walker. Own a specialty brewery in Birmingham. Gets good reviews from the barrel aged aficionados. You?"
"Venture capitalist. I have a home in Florida and one in Chicago. But mostly, I just travel." I looked around at the acres of girl skin doing boat stuff as we slowly motored along. "I have to say that this is one trip that I never expected to book." We both watched as a girl pulled on a rope with some effort. The little triangles of cloth were barely adequate to hold in their contents as she pulled and heaved. Both of us were hoping that the material would give up the task, but she finished and moved on down the deck, still clothed. Barely.
Suddenly, from the rear... sorry, ...aft of the boat came a cry that I recognized to be the voice of the Captain. "Shahsa! Hands to the mains'le halyard winch! Remove the reef ties!"
From behind us came a reply of "Aye, Aye." This really WAS a sailing ship. We watched as the unbelievable crew raised the huge white pile of material up the middle mast, followed by the one at the front of the ship and finally, the rear sail. I had to admit that they might look like a set of girls on spring break but they knew their way around this ship. The captain gave a minimum of orders and each crew girl knew what to do. Shortly we were bounding along on the ocean waves at a good clip. I assumed that this was what they called a good wind. If so, we should get to the island in a couple of days.
I wondered if the cruise company had bought a space on the island or if they just squatted there. In my parent's time, there were no such things as deserted islands outside of fiction. Large ones had populations and small islands were owned by billionaires. The massive undersea quake on the Tuapo-Zealand fault line in 2022 changed all that. A massive thousand mile section of sea floor lifted up several thousand feet - or dropped down - whichever - I am only parroting what I remember from the news reports. Anyway, the quarter mile high tsunami cleaned off virtually every island in the Pacific. Most of the very small ones were scoured clean of everything - people, buildings, vegetation. Some even totally disappeared. Even the large islands were mostly topped by the wave. As far away as Hawaii, the southern facing beaches of hotels and boardwalks had nothing left but bare sand and piles of junk when the water subsided. Several large and many small ships were now permanent fixtures miles inland. Even the far off shores of Asia and the Americas were severely impacted. People there had plenty of warning but nobody expected a wall of water a hundred times greater than any other in recorded history. Probably fifty million people were missing when it was over.
And... coupled with the collapse of the petroleum industry - unrelated to the tsunami - all forms of recreational travel were now severely limited, and commercial shipping lines didn't have fuel oil to waste on traveling to and from specks of land in the middle of the Pacific. As a result, the depopulated islands mostly stayed empty. The idea of retiring to an island paradise like a modern Robinson Crusoe makes for good fantasizing, but in reality the average 21st century person would go berserk with boredom if they were actually stranded on one of them. It was tried on occasion, but usually the bored castaways radioed for a pickup after the sameness of the 'paradise' finally got to them.
It was a magnificent luau on the deck of the boat. A low and long table covered with food and drink of all kinds and overhead, colored Japanese lanterns were strung that cast enough light to see by, but so much that they blocked out the view of the brilliant starry sky. Not that we were stargazing. We could have been anchored in the farmer's pond for all that we noticed outside of the railings. The men were all down to flowery shorts, supplied by one of the crew. The crew girls themselves... well.
We had sat down on cushions at the start of the party, and at a word from the Captain, all of the girls popped their tops and slipped out of their little triangle bottoms. One sat down beside of each of us and the others just roamed around, bringing food and drink. Of course there were only ten with us at the moment since two were on watch. I had seen the helm during my wanderings in the daytime, and knew that the wheel was auto controlled by a GPS navigator. However, it also always had a crew member standing beside it. As the girl on watch at the time explained to me, no sailor who hankered to live long enough to see her tits droop to her waist would ever put her life in the trust of mere electronics. The other girl was up in the crows nest as a lookout.
Anyway, the party had suddenly gone from magnificent to unbelievable. Something out of a pimply kid's fantasy. Before our jaws could resume their normally closed position, the Captain stood up and said, "As I don't have to tell you, this is an erotic man cruise. All of the guests have paid a substantial sum for the voyage and it is the job of the crew make sure that you gentlemen are fully satisfied. And I use that term in all its meanings. Any of the women here are available for your use at any time and in any way, only excepting those on watch or when the crew may be needed for ship handling. From here on until we are a day out of our return port, the crew will wear only what you see - again, excepting those on watch in the noonday sun. Do you gentlemen have any questions?"
Well, yes, as a matter of fact. Like, when did I die and go to heaven? All six of us had our hands in our laps for the same reason. Hell, even a plaster statue would have a hardon in these circumstances.
One of the men - Bill was his name, a Wall Street guru of some kind - raised his hand like a school kid. "Anytime? he asked in a squeaky voice.
The Captain smiled and nodded. "Certainly. You can take crewwoman Judy..." She pointed to the girl sitting beside him. Sitting cross legged with her crack wide open and tits hang... "You can take crewwoman Judy back behind the foremast and lay her right now if you want. Or just spread her across the table and take her here." A pause. "But I hope you can delay your need for satisfaction until we finish our meal and introductions." Bill didn't answer. He was - like me - still hoping he wasn't going to wake up from this nut tightening dream anytime soon. From the male faces around the table, we weren't the only two.
The meal went on in a kind of hazy dream like atmosphere. The food was good but I was barely aware of what I was eating. My attention was almost totally on the girl across from me. Not only could I see up her a considerable distance, but every time she leaned over her ample jugs would swing back and forth and my dick would move up to the next grade of hardness. So as not to look like a drooling idiot, I tried to listen to the conversation...
"Correct, Mr. Arbonot. This is definitely a small crew for a full rigged schooner." After taking in a slice of pineapple, she continued. "Crossing the Atlantic, or around Cape Hope with twelve crew members would be tantamount to suicide, but this is the Coral Sea - probably the most placid stretch of water on earth. There are a few storms, but moderate by Atlantic standards. Typhoons pass it by, the seasons don't change except that more rain falls from September to March. The very few times that we encounter bad weather, we just lay to and ride it out."
She waved her hand to indicate the entire ship. "Most of you probably are of the impression that this is a very well maintained wooden schooner from the eighteen hundreds. It isn't. In fact, it is only about seven years old." She lightly stamped the deck with a foot, causing her large mammeries to wobble up and down. "It looks like wood, feels like wood, but the hull and masts are of boron nanofibre and the internal structure is electron bonded carbon composites. We could run on a reef without damage, although getting off again might be a problem. Obviously, rot and worms can't touch her and barnacles and weed won't stick to the underside. In short, the lifespan of this ship under normal use is practically forever."
The Captain was the oldest woman on board by several years - probably a couple older than me. But, she was a knockout for all that. Clean limbs that were girl-muscled from actual work, not just walking from the food court to the dress shop. No fat, long brown hair, a pair of jugs that were just slightly beginning to droop, but in actuality, better most eighteen year old's. No normal man anywhere on Earth would kick her out of his bed. And, like her crew, seemingly totally uninterested in the fact that her innermost secrets were on full display. I wondered if she was part of the 'any woman' deal.
As the meal casually turned into a lay back and just nibble on the fruit, one of the men - George, by name - had all he could take. He and his partner stood up and disappeared into the darkness aft. That triggered the exodus of one after another. Finally, I looked at my dinner partner, and nodded. She stood up as I did, then took my hand and let me forward to a stairway going up - she called it a ladder. I had decided from the start of the cruise that I was going to approach this as a two week long gourmet meal, not an all-the-hamburgers-you-can-shove-down fest. I would take my time and enjoy it. This girl - Cindy, she said - was slight, small and, well... petite. She had the slim doll body that most women would kill for, although she was still well-breasted. Not a large pair, but definitely alluring.
Somewhere on the foredeck, she led me to a mat, sat down, and waited for me to follow. She was probably expecting me to push her legs apart and shove it in, which my rod insisted that I do - right now! - but I just lay down on the mat. She took the hint and followed. I reached over and found a nipple, barely visible in the starlight and the slight illumination from the party lights. "Tell me about yourself. How did you get to be a crew member on a party boat." I half expected her to make some minimum reply and then to tell me to get on with it, but she replied just as if she were the girl next door on a date.
"There isn't much to tell. I'm twenty years old, five foot three, ninety four pounds and 33-22-32." Aussie accent. "I grew up on a sheep farm and couldn't wait to leave it. So, when the Captain offered to hire me, I signed on."
"As a man available sailor," I replied. More of a statement than a question.
"It beats the hell out of working as a shop clerk for a pineapple a day."
"Sorry. It's what we call a fifty dollar bill."
"Ah... And you don't mind being on the menu for whatever men happen to sign on the cruise?"
I couldn't see her expression but I knew her reply was serious. "The work is fun, I'm a good sailor - at least after the Captain taught me the difference between a sheet and a rope. Out here I'm free, healthy and very well paid." That was probably true. By my calculation, assuming that all of the male passengers paid the same price for the ticket, the cruise would bring in over a third of a million dollars. Not bad for two weeks work, even by my standards.
"But above all..." She took my hand and moved it down to her now spread legs. "Feel this?" I gulped and nodded, probably invisibly in the dark. "I love having this filled by a man." Shit! A coy and teasing female she wasn't. There was no mistaking that invitation. I began to rise, but she pushed me back down with a hand, then scooted further down. In a moment, I felt my rod turn to adamantine steel as she put her mouth over my circumcision, then began to stroke. Before I knew what was happening, she had a finger up my hole and stroked my prostate. In a second, my nuts erupted in a massive orgasm. I just lay back and let my nervous system enjoy itself, but in a few moments the realization of what had happened dawned on me. I had lasted less time than a kid visiting a whorehouse for the first time. Shit! So much for trying to be a casual stud in front the girl.
But, this was no teenager spreading her legs and letting the man do whatever he was supposed to do. This was a woman in a girl's body.
"Good, we got that out of the way. Now we can talk for a while, let your pouch marbles fill up again, then do it for real."
By the time we rejoined the table, all but one of the couples were back. The men had all been thoroughly emptied and were now just relaxing and passively enjoying the female forms. Like me, all had left their single garment behind. A minute before, as we stood up to leave our mat, I leaned down to find my flowery shorts, but she pulled me back up with a "No. We don't wear clothes on this cruise. The girls like to look, also."
I was somewhat uneasy about parading my johnson in front of other men, but what the heck. The normal rules of civilization didn't apply at the moment.
We sat down in our previous spot and the Captain asked, "Did my crew member serve you to your satisfaction, Mr. Harris?" "Fucking A," was the response that I almost gave, but bit it off and gave a more civilized reply. "Yes Ma'am. Perfectly satisfactory. Totally satisfactory I might add."
She smiled and said, "Excellent." Turning to one of the men, she took up her conversation. "Mr. Teisn, to continue, this boat and the cruise line are owned by me." She waved to indicate the ship. "In fact, this vessel is the only one in the fleet, so to speak. And I don't want any more. I wanted to be the Captain of a ship, not the CEO of some shipping conglomerate. Desks give me hives."
The talk went on until we heard eight mellow clangs of the ship's bell - midnight. By now, all of us were sitting around the table, most probably thinking of one more piece before bed. Suddenly, a girl moved from place to place, putting long stemmed glasses in front of each of us - five men, five girls and the Captain. Orbiting the table behind her, another girl filled them with red wine. When the two 'stewards' had finished, the Captain lifted her glass and said, "A toast, Gentlemen. To a pleasant and erotic voyage."
I would drink to that. To a chorus of 'here, heres' we lifted, clinked and drank.
Son of a bitch! My head was about the size of a basketball, but that problem receded to obscurity as I looked around. What the fuck? This wasn't my little cabin - it was a twelve by twenty room with a tall ceiling. Noticing the square hole in the overhead, I suddenly realized that I was in a hold. No, we were in a hold. And I was still totally naked.
All five other men were laid out on the floor around the walls, still zonked out from what had to be a Mickey in that last glass of wine. That was problem enough in itself, but again, was immediately forgotten by my next discovery. We were chained by our ankles to the wall we were laying beside. Suddenly, and with a major sinking feeling, I realized that our overloaded gonads had led us into a sugar trap. I leaned back and collapsed against the wall as the adrenaline overload stopped. A flashback to my grandmother came to the fore in my mind. "Son, if something looks too good to be true, it probably is."
Very wise were some of those old grandmothers.
One look at the manacles showed me that I wasn't going to get loose until someone brought a key. Probably just before dumping us over the side. Not a bad scheme for a squad of females. Use some really luscious tits and ass to get a half dozen rutting rich dudes to come on board with boxes of cash, dispose of the owners, then head back to port for a good time and another load. All they had to do was climb down from the hatch - no, there was a door in the one wall that had nobody chained to. Open the door and, bang bang. Six bullets into six sitting ducks. Who would know? We... I, at least, didn't tell anyone of my trip, didn't log on from a computer to get a ticket, didn't use any financial instrument that might be traced. Nobody knew we were even here.
As my self-loathing began to peak, I saw another guy begin to stir and go through the same motions that I had. He got to a sitting position, shook his head to clear it, immediately regretting the action, then opened his eyes wide as the scene began to sink in. This was... Peter... somebody. Diller... Dillard. Whatever. I waited for the inevitable "What the fuck!" then I said, "No, you aren't dreaming."
He didn't take it nearly as quietly as I did. He immediately stood up and had to put a hand against the wall to stay that way. "What the hell is going on!?"
He glared at me, but I didn't have an answer. "Don't ask me. I'm in here with you." By now the ruckus was arousing the other unfortunates. One by one, they woke, made the same observations and mostly the same curses, then the babble rose even higher as each tried to ask the other the unanswerable questions. Most, if not all, unlike me, were born into the strata of society that they now occupied - i.e. wealthy, and were unused to the world not conforming itself to their needs at all times. The idea that they could be forcibly restrained and made to do something beyond their will was not even in their lexicon.
"This is a kidnapping for ransom, that's what it is."
Most agreed. "We'll pay it, but I guarantee that I'll take it out of their hides eventually."
"Goddamn right. My security chief is the meanest SOB on the planet. These cunts'll rue the day they screwed with me." On and on.
Shit. I was stuck with a bunch of swells who thought that their money was equal to any situation. I was different. I had grown up in a lower middle class family with enough income to live on but not much else. The fact that I was in a state of wealth on a level with these guys was totally due to the circumstance of having been a member of an anti-drug assault team in the Army - years ago - and the fact that I was the only person with the knowledge of a certain shallow cave on a certain Caribbean island. Only person alive, that is. The other two crossed the river Styx about a millisecond after I stumbled onto them in the jungle. Fortunately, my M-4 was ready - their AK's were leaning against a tree.
"Hey, Harris! You haven't said anything. Doesn't this bother you?"
"Of course," I retorted. "I just don't see the value of beating my head against the facts we can't change. We're stuck here until someone comes down and unlocks these manacles."
Teisn asked, "What do you think is happening?" Shine was his first name. At least that is how it sounded. Asiatic I guessed. No accent at all.
"That's easy," I replied. "I brought my fare on board as cash. How about the rest of you?" Each looked at the others, then nodded. "Ok, then. Shortly, someone will probably open that door, stick a rifle barrel through it and shoot all of us. Then they'll drop us over the side, count our money and head back to port and celebrate with their boyfriends."
That got their attention. In spades. My report was totally unacceptable to the board. Their loud protests overrode that of their fellows as each absolutely denied that any such thing could happen to them. No way would those girls dare to cause harm to such important individuals. This had to be about ransom. Nothing else was acceptable.
I knew better. I had seen what humanity could do to itself. Like a set of drug punks shooting up a car with a family just because they got in the way during a chase. Or a woman raped, then her body slit open with a machete while the laughing thugs bet on how far she could run while holding her insides to keep them from falling out. You have to become what you fight, I was told. And we did. Like most young men the world over, those young punks all had the impression that a mean looking weapon automatically made you ten feet tall and invincible. We lost a few buddies on the year long operation, but when we were through, there were very few gang members alive in the Caribbean.
In an hour or so, the protest and threats had died down, and most of us were just sitting down with our own thoughts. There were two buckets in the room, and several rolls of toilet paper on the floor so it didn't take much thought as to what the containers were for. It was also obvious that we had been demoted from first class to steerage.
A couple of hours or so later
I jumped. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the door begin to open. My relief was considerably when the Captain walked though the door - without a gun. And still bare ass naked, just as last night. With her were two girls - also au natural - with... with... spears? Yes, each had a spear as long as they were tall. And they weren't aboriginal weapons made of chipped rock and cane poles. These were apparently as modern as the boat we were on. The wide and eight inch long blade looked to be stainless steel and the shaft was probably aircraft grade aluminum. From the looks of the point, it could probably be shoved half way though an elephant - even by a girl.
I looked around, hoping that my flabby cohorts didn't try something stupid. Even in their sedentary shape, they could probably win a wrestling match with most of the crew girls on the boat, just from the fact that the average man is considerable stronger than the average woman. But these females were lithe, in prime shape and could probably slice any one of the men into salami with the thing they were holding. And if they couldn't, the other eleven could, together.
"Greetings, Gentlemen," she started. "I assume that you are probably wondering about the change in cabin arrangements."
"You're goddamned right we are, you fucking bitch! Take these off of me now!"
Oh shit! The dumb son of a bitch was bluffing on a busted flush with all his cards showing. That had to stop now. I had no idea of the trigger point of the woman's temper, but I didn't want to find it while chained to a wall.
"Shut up and stop spewing macho crap!" I barked at him. "Let her say what she came to explain."
She nodded at me. "Thank you, Mr. Harris." She looked around the hold. "I just wanted to inform you, that if the wind holds, we should be fetching up to our destination in a couple of days - maybe Monday morning." So we really were going to an island. Maybe we weren't going to fed to the fish after all. Or maybe not until sometime later. She continued. "Meanwhile, there will still be plenty of sex for all, but not quite on the same terms as before. And you will be given some unique items to wear." One more look around at everybody, then she took a spear from one of the girls. "I know this isn't necessary, but as you can see, my crew is well equipped to maintain discipline. There are no other weapons on the boat, not even a carving knife and certainly not any guns. Just twelve of these spears. If one of you should happen to get loose, AND overpower one of my crew members, you will still be facing eleven more blades. So please just relax until we get to our destination."
With that, she handed the spear back to the girl, spun on a heel and was gone before any reply could be made or asked.
Shortly, a pair of girls came in with some trays of food and drink. Good stuff, it was. At least we weren't going to be put on a bread and water diet. Or swill and grog. At the door, just to make sure that nobody got any stupid ideas, two more crew members stood with the long silver weapons in evidence.
An hour later, they returned and retrieved the mostly empty trays and plates.
Again at noon, and evening we were fed. Other than that, nothing else happened. I listened all day to escape schemes, each one more ridiculous than the one before. It passed the time. Then...
Uh-oh. This didn't look like before bed cocktails. This time four girls came in, all armed with their big pig stickers and this time, not holding them at a vertical parade stance. They were leveled and ready. One pointed the man at wall across from me - Patrick, the distillery owner - and said, "Mr. Walker. You will now come with us." She waved and another girl stooped down and unlocked both manacles on his ankles. He didn't look overjoyed to be set free and I didn't blame him. There were way too many uncertainties about what was happening. They left, one in front and three in back and him in the middle of the procession. The door closed behind him.
"I don't like the looks of this," said one - name was Ferstenburg or the like.
"I goddammed well don't like any of it," said Dillard. "We've got to do something right now."
Here we go again, I thought. Action was a great idea, but at the moment emotions didn't rule, facts did, and two very evident ones were locked around my ankles. I fully intended to go into action at the first possible chance, but my choice of companions was very limited. Down here was a distillery owner - now absent - a chain store CEO, a guy in the import/export business, some kind of Wall Street dude and a guy that I couldn't place for his career. It appeared from his few comments that he was a professional playboy.
Not exactly equivalent to the very professional and deadly squad that I used to be a member of. Most of these guys would have a chance of cutting themselves opening a pocket knife. Against a five foot long and apparently razor sharp spear, even in the hands of a small and inexperienced woman, they would be pork in a half second. And I had no idea of their opponent's experience. For all I knew, all of them could have been medalists in the Olympics javelin throw.
An hour passed and Walker didn't come back. Or wasn't brought back, whichever. I didn't like that. But I still had no idea what was going on. They couldn't be sweating him for his money. Hell, they had almost assuredly entered our cabins and taken our cash already. I just hoped that they weren't practicing their aim on a live target. Or carving him up for shark bait. Maybe...
The door opened and the same scene played out again. This time with Dillard. He looked like he was about to resist, but three of the blades were pointing at him and only about two feet away. He went quietly.
Shit. This was as bad as being kidnapped by a drug gang as far as the fear of the future went - wondering if you were going to be ransomed or beheaded. Still, I saw no practical way to resist. I was the youngest man here, was in far better shape than any of the other five, and had two years of experience of violence with weapons. Still, even though I could deck any of the females on board in a one on one - or even a one on four or more - fight, no amount of Rambo tactics would take me through a phalanx of spears, even against little girls. I had no idea of their experience with their weapons, but this crew of females was in superb physical shape. I had watched them practically run up the ropes to the crows nest, taking a snack to their fellow girl on watch, then hand over hand back to the deck in seconds and not even be breathing hard. I couldn't even do that now, and as for my fellows, they would have to stop and rest three times just on the way up.
Dropping out of my reverie, I caught a piece of the conversation and decided to put in my two cents worth. It was interesting in that, since I had seldom said anything since we woke up, while everyone else was jabbering nonstop, when I did decide to speak the others shut up to listen. As my teacher said, keep quiet and let people think you're intelligent, or speak up and prove the opposite.
Tiesen had been going over the ransom theory again. I shook my head. "That won't cut it. Ransom assumes that we will be let go after it's paid. This operation is one that has a fixed base of operation, not one that appears, takes the money, then evaporates. They can't take the ransom, turn us loose, then set up the next batch of suckers. This boat would be very hard to disguise." I thought about that for a few seconds. "Of course, they could take the payment and still drop us over the side."
Playboy wasn't having it. "There is no way that they...
The door opened again. My turn.
It wasn't quite dark, but I still couldn't see any trace of the other two men who had been brought up. That didn't help my apprehensions any. Possibly they were already feeding the fish.
I was led over the the same low table that we had eaten from last night. One of the girls said, "Lay down on your back." For a millisecond I looked over my options. Even if I could make it to the railing and dove over, I couldn't swim to shore. It had to be hundreds of miles away by now. Fighting wasn't an option. There were at least eight weapons pointing at me at the moment.
I laid down. On my back.
Quickly, a girl took each limb, pulled it straight and in seconds had me chained spread eagled on the table. What happened next was totally beyond my expectations. A steaming hot and wet towel was spread over my crotch. Not scalding, but more like a barbers towel - just short of painful. What the hell?
With me stretched out, the girls had laid their weapons against various parts of the ship and just chatted. Just girl talk - not about me or the other men. Clothes, tans, a way to...
Suddenly a glass sized container of water was poured on the towel. Again, hot but not scalding. What the fuck? This went on for at least fifteen minutes, then I heard a rattling of a chain, I thought, and definitely some clanking of metal. I raised my head to look, but it was just a pile of something between my legs.
Suddenly, a pair of females, on one each side, squatted down beside my midriff. The towel was taken off and I felt my nuts stretched out toward my feet. Now I panicked. Worse than being killed for my money, would be having my balls cut off. I tried to thrash, but my limbs would only move a trivial amount. "NOOOOOO" I yelled."
"Take it easy," one of them replied. "Nobody is going to harm your jewels." God! I could have kissed whomever said that, true or not.
I felt a strange sensation, then a feeling of weight pulling on them. I tried to look again, but couldn't see anything from my low angle... My view was suddenly blocked by the lower body of a female between my face and my crotch. I looked up in the semi darkness and could see that it was the stunning brunette that had serviced the playboy last night. I think she was smiling at me as she scooted up to my head. Now, if I looked straight up, I could see the underside of her massive tits and by tilting my chin into my upper chest, could see the top of her bare crack just inches away. Almost too close to focus on. Once again came that well used thought of the night, What the Fuck?
She held a strange forked bar so that I could see it. "Do you know what this is?"
I shook my head, not sure about speaking.
"It's a man prod. It improves performance. Or, rather, the desire for better performance. If this was a ranch, it would be used on cows." Oh fuck! An electric cattle prod. "I know that you'll want to please me so I shouldn't have to use it. Just remember, I like lots of tongue."
With that she scooted forward and planted her wide open crack on my mouth. Spread eagled, with something tied to my nuts and the electric gadget in her hands, I had no choice. This wouldn't be the first time I had Frenched a woman, but it would be the strangest. I started in.
At any other time, I would be enjoying the meal. The girl was clean, smelled good, and as my tongued moved up and down and back and forth, my eyes could see a magnificent pair swinging back and forth above my head. Still, I don't think I got hard. The worry about what was next kept my dong from responding.
In a while, I knew I was making progress. She had my hair in her hands and was trying to push my face harder into her cunt. Soon, I could see her muscles begin to jump and not long after, she went over the cliff. I barely had time to swallow, when another climbed on. My tongue started work again.
After the second girl, my tongue muscles had had it. I was thanking my lucky stars that a third girl didn't wrap her twat lips around my mouth. I was unchained and told to get off the table, but the minute that I stood up, I knew something wasn't right. My nuts were being dragged toward my feet by a definite weight. Not heavy enough to pull them off, by a long shot, but plenty of strain that made me immediately reach down to get some relief. I discovered a chain hanging from them somehow, and apparently a small weight attached to the end. I lifted the chain to take the strain off, and was immediately prodded toward the raised foredeck. There, I was told to sit down by the rail, on a mat, and another set of manacles were locked around my feet with about five feet of slack.
All of the girls but one moved aft again. Presumably to start on the next guy. This one gave me a warning before she followed them. "You can do your business over the side. DON'T get it on my deck!"
I woke up as the sun was just lifting over the horizon. Now in the light, I could see just what had been attached to me. I sat up, spread my legs and began to examine the stuff attached to my nuts. It didn't take long. What I found was a metal donut, the center just large enough to allow my stretched scrotum to fit inside. Of course, the hole was far too small for my balls to slip through, so there was no way that it was going to come off without being... Hmmm, I rotated it around my sac, then saw the top of a screw in a hole. It would take an allen wrench to allow the two pieces to separate and come off.
Welded to one side of the donut was a chain, about two feet long with a round ball attached to the other end as more weight. That just about finished anything that I could discover about it, so I just lay back and thought about the reason for the apparatus. Again, it didn't take long. This was an obvious method, and probably erotic to the girls, to hobble a male.
The chain was too short to be thrown over a shoulder. It had to be supported by one hand anytime I stood up. Even if the weight didn't pull so hard, I would never just start striding across the landscape with the thing dangling between my legs. If the bottom weight caught on something, the results would be more than just discomfort. I could easily become a soprano singer.
I assumed that the other five men got the same apparatus. It effectively made us one armed men any time we stood up or walked. If we wanted to fight, or run, or climb, or anything besides lie down, we had to hold on to the chain with one hand to keep our nuts from killing us. Even if we tried to swim for it, that was another couple of pounds dragging us down.
To paraphrase an old saying, 'In the country of the one armed men, a woman with two hands is Queen.'
Suddenly, I realized the reason for the cutlery that the girls were using for weapons. The obviously method of control by kidnappers would be firearms. Who uses blades in this day and age? No man, no matter how tough, was the equal of a woman holding an automatic on him. But... If only a single woman were overpowered, her gun could be a major force the hands of a kidnappee who knew how to use it. Me for instance. I could pot six or seven women before they even knew which way the shots were coming from.
But in the current situation, even if I managed to wrest a blade out of the hands of a woman, it would only be effective in close quarter combat and I would still be facing eleven more spears. I might get one or two, but the end result would be inevitable with me leaking from multiple holes.
Finally, it occurred to me that for now, sex was probably out. I assumed that there was no way that a man could climax with his testicles forcibly held down from his body.
The day passes.
I was wrong. Twice during the day, a pair of girls came by to work me over. One was a guard, obviously tasked with the mission of sticking her spear into the body of any of us that decided to end it all, and while doing it, take one of our kidnappers with us. With me she was wasting her time. The other girl started out the usual way - with her twat on top and my tongue on bottom. But about halfway through, she got up and shoved me off the mat, laid back on it herself with 'em spread, and told me to get to work. I had no problem getting a hardon - actually, I already had one - so I obeyed orders, captured nuts and all. I found that not only could I still orgasm, but the feeling was both different and intense.
During the rest of the day, I had plenty of time to think on our predicament. Unfortunately, all that thought didn't come up with a spectacular escape plan. But... As I thought back on the action, I realized that only about half of the girls ever engaged in sex with the men. I assumed that mean that the other six or so were lezzies.
From my berth on the foredeck, still chained to the railing, I watched as the island got closer. From this vantage point, it didn't appear to be all that large - maybe a few acres, although if it was long and narrow and we were at one end, it could stretch for miles. There was no way to tell from here. It had the usual vegetation - enough time had passed since the tidal wave to allow for the fast growing semi jungle foliage to mostly grow back. And, sure enough, was the little village that I had seen in the travel shop brochure. A long pier pointed towards us over the white beach. Behind it were several structures, most being little huts grouped around a larger... something.
The crew was dropping the sails and I could barely hear the thrum of the little motor that must have just been started up. Two girls came up and stood by the anchor winch, which was a thick shaft sticking straight out of the deck, with a collar on top for four long bars sticking out. Finally, I heard the motor stop and with a shout from the Captain, both girls yanked on a rope. With a clatter, the shaft began to spin as the anchor chain rattled out of the hole in the side of the bow. It stopped, and so were we - about a quarter mile from shore.
The schooner had two lifeboats, either one of which would have almost held everybody on board. Some more orders from aft, and one was lowered into the water, although from my vantage point I could barely see the action. For a couple of hours, supplies were lowered into the boat and rowed to shore. Rowed, not motored. As the boat passed under my position I could see that it was apparently an original copy also. And lifeboats in the eighteenth century didn't have outboard motors.
Finally, a pair came for me, unlocked my manacles and walked me back to the mid section of the ship, with me holding the chain on my nuts. I looked down over the side. Three other men were already in the boat. "Climb down," one ordered. Very carefully, since I only had one good hand, I climbed down into the boat. Fortunately, the method was on a hard ladder with narrow steps. I'm not sure I could have descended a rope ladder. Shortly, all of us were seated, two girls in the front and two in the back. All facing us and with their stickers handy.
"You four." The girl pointed. "You, you, you and you. Take an oar and make ready. I wasn't one of the galley slaves, so I just watched. "Push them forward." Pause. "Now down into the water." Pause. "Stroke." They were as clumsy as hell - probably the first time they had anything bigger than a boat paddle in their hands. But, slowly we moved toward shore, a little faster as they began to get the hang of it. Eventually we grounded on the sandy shore, just beside the pier. Two other girls were waiting, so it was even odds - six girls, six men. Now was our chance...
...except for the problem of facing armed girls while holding our nuts up with one hand. I hoped that none of the guys tried something stupid. I didn't expect it, from what little I knew of them, but I was hoping anyway.
They didn't. We were led to a round grass hut, fairly large - about fifteen feet in diameter. There, our nut chains were connected to another long chain that was laying on the dirt floor. Connected together like this, and the fact that one end of the main chain was locked to a huge steel ring set in the floor, we weren't going anywhere. We also had the same sanitary arrangements - two buckets.
As the last girl left, the babbling started up. It was the first time all of us had been together since the ball chaining. The threats and cursing started right up. As far as I could see, nothing had changed. We weren't going anywhere without a key. Even if all of us managed to pull the end of the chain out of the ground, we would all still be hooked together. I could imagine the comical sight of six men escaping across an island, all the while holding their nuts and dragging a chain and trying not to step on it. Yep, the girls would no doubt get a good laugh as the watched us slowly disappear into the palms.
The hut - one of about six - looked to be a native grass hooch from any distance. But from the inside, I could tell that it was a modern fake. The skeleton structure was fiber poles and the woven grass sides and roof was synthetic material. Another indication that this operation wasn't a spur of the moment deal. The huts were grouped around a very large round... well, it was a very large round hut with no sides, just a roof. Probably forty feet across, it was apparently the city square of this little burg. Looking out the open door, I could see under it and across to a couple of huts like ours. On occasion a girl would pass through my vision on some errand. Watching them was more productive than listening to the jabber in our hut.
"All I need is for one to get close enough to grab her spear." This was Dillard, the broker.
Ferstenburg followed immediately with, "I'll break her neck first, then take it." Great, a guy who probably used to call store security on a kid taking a pack of gum. The macho BS went on. It reminded me of the joke about the grasshoppers planning to run the elephants off - first chance they get.
However, it passed the time. So far I hadn't come up with a clue about how to get out of this mess. Even if a tool magically appeared that let me free my stretched cojones, and if I managed to sneak out of the hut and swim to the ship, then what? My knowledge of sailing a ship was close to asymptotic zero, but even I knew that the schooner was far beyond the ability of one man to sail - even if I had grown up on the sea. Did it have a radio?
And if it did, what? "This is Bob Harris. I've been kidnapped by some girls and am being held as a sexual hostage on an island, somewhere in the Pacific. They screw me whenever they want. Help." Yep. That would get a good laugh in some coast guard radio shack.
I told myself - again - to just go with the flow. Enjoy the sex and wait for something to happen. But... And it was a large but. In the back of my mind was always the knowledge that our kidnapping and imprisonment wasn't a lark, or a prank. It was something that would get the female perpetrators hard time if we got away and blabbed. There was just no way that they could ever let us escape. Ok. Ok. Face it. Or let us live to tell the tale.
Night fell and food was brought. Good food. One again, at least we weren't on prison rations.
Then, meal over, Tiesen and Walker were unhooked and led out. Uh-oh. I thought this might be the balloon going up for us, but once again, it was just a tongue fest for the girls. They were brought back, and two more taken. Then the last two, including me. Again, I was spread-eagled and sat on by two girls, and made - let - to fuck the second one. At least, a few hours later the guys were too tired to babble. I went to sleep.
After breakfast, we had been taken, chain and all to the big tent. All the girls were standing around and from their attitude, I knew that this was coming to a head. Whatever it was. By now we knew that the Captain was not only the head of the ship, but was also the leader of this girlie band. She walked to the center of the big hut - naked and beautiful as usual - and looked at each of us.
"Welcome to our Paradise Island, gentlemen. I realize that so far, this hasn't been exactly as you had expected, but even you will have to admit, there has been plenty of sex all around." Apparently my cohorts had talked themselves out, since none of them replied. It didn't seem to bother the big woman, and she went on. "You were promised a girl hunt, and that is what you will get this morning. Possibly, you might have a somewhat incorrect idea of the itinerary so let me lay out the procedure."
"This island is long and narrow - just how long, I won't tell you - that is for you to determine for yourself, but it has plenty of area for you to move around in. At various places you will find food stashes, so don't worry about having to live off the land. Water isn't a problem, since it showers almost every afternoon and there are plenty of catch pockets all over.
"You are going to be hunted. By us." She paused as the implications of that statement sunk in. "However, let me put your mind at ease about the physical aspects of the hunt. I don't mean that this will be like some wild game safari. Nobody - hopefully - is going to get stuck with a spear, or killed. Any of you that are caught, will be bound and brought back to the village for our use - and pleasure. Pleasure for us, not you. Six of my crew are girls who have had bad experiences with men. For example..." She pointed to a ravishing redhead. "Julie was gang raped by six of her high school classmates. At least, that is what she claimed. The Judge looked at it somewhat differently. 'Boys will be boys' he said. Of course, the fact that two of the perps were sons of members of his exclusive club, might have colored his judgement."
Another hand point. "Carrie was both raped and beaten by her attacker. Again, the law determined that there wasn't enough evidence to charge the guy. He was out of jail before she was out of the hospital. Unfortunately, the next woman he attacked died." A pause. "I won't go through the catalog of evils that were perpetrated against my friends, but remember this. They would love to have a helpless man under their power. Sort of as balm for their souls, so to speak. So... It is obviously in your interests not to get caught."
"For your part. Feel free to capture any of my girls that you want. If you do, you can have your way with her. I wouldn't permanently harm any that you might capture, since that would probably stoke feelings of revenge by the others. But, I suggest that you don't assume that the be-all and end-all would be to acquire one of their weapons. One will do you no good. You would still be facing eleven others - all at once." She turned to a dishwater blond. "Sonya," was all she said.
The girl hefted her weapon, spun around and overarmed it in a flashing throw. It flew straight and fast and came to rest, embedded in the trunk of a tree about twenty five feet away. Shit! Those spears weren't for show. They could use them. At least one of them could.
She stood there for a minute, waiting for her words to sink in. From the open mouthed expressions, it hadn't yet.
She continued. "For your part, gentlemen, any man who can stay uncaptured for the prescribed time - unknown to you - is home free. He will receive ten million dollars for his pains, and may select any female here as his trophy. She will follow him back to his home, if wanted, and will pledge to be his personal slave for life. Or, if he wishes, he can just drop her overboard for the fish. Or stake her out for crabs."
"However..." Pause. "...let me say that it hasn't happened yet."
Finally. "Those who ARE captured will never leave this island."
All of us were standing, in a semi stunned state, watching the backs of the girls heading toward their village a few hundred feet away. The big girl had said, "The hunt starts at dawn. You have about twenty hours."
I knew that we couldn't just haul ass and run. For one thing, there was still the problem of our nuts being attached to a chain and weight - not exactly something that facilitated travel through a tropical forest. We were still effectively one handed. I turned to the men and said, "We have a day to make some plans. If we just run off and hide then we're playing their game. All we need..."
"Plans for what?" blurted out Dillard. "Did you see that girl throw? She could skewer us before we got close enough to throw a rock at her."
"That's why I called it a plan. We need to make one..."
"And do what? Sharpen a stick to poke at them? What happens if you hit one? The others will probably carve you up for fun."
Now I was getting heated. "You heard the woman. Nobody is getting off this island alive. They can't allow that to happen and they know it. It would be prison for life for all of them."
Arbonot, the playboy, took hold of his chain, stood up and blurted, "You guys do what you want. If they want me, they gotta find me." With that he took off down the path.
"Wait, you fool. If we don't stick together, we don't have a chance." It didn't work. Walker and Tiesen, each grabbed his own chain and followed.
Dillard watched them go, the turned to me. "Let's get some distance from here. We can get together and plan something later." Ferstenburg nodded, and both took off after the others.
Idiots! The girls didn't have to start looking for us tomorrow. The had stocked the island with game. They could take their time, even leave the island and bring some more quarry. That brought up a thought. I wondered if there were any other men left over from other 'erotic cruises' hiding out somewhere.
Whatever. It didn't matter. I had about twenty hours to come up with something besides being a hunted rabbit. I didn't believe for a second the tale about a holdout getting rewarded with millions and a girl. What I did believe was that no man was getting off this island alive if the huntresses could help it.
I had moved down the island about a half mile, the took a right angle to the beach. Assuming that the path was in the center of what was supposed to be a long island, then it was only a few hundred feet wide at this point. Shortly, I was in a little cove looking at the cluttered sandy beach.
Cluttered because the oceans were where all the trash of civilization ended up. After the big tsunami, there were literally billions of tons of man made garbage floating around, eventually washing up on a shore some where. On that thought, it would be nice to find something that would allow me to float off this cursed place, but that was very unlikely. Most items were minute or not much bigger than plastic bottles. Besides, even in the very unlikely instance of me finding a rowboat, even one stocked for an ocean voyage, I had no idea where we were and which way to go. Sailor I wasn't, but even I knew that the Pacific was a BIG place. And dying of thirst as gull food wasn't even as good a death as being speared by a girl.
I sat down beside a tree and began a heavy skull session. I went over the general situation. One question I had was, how did they select their suckers. Unlike the story I was given, nobody I knew would have recommended me for this - obviously, since they would never have come back from the island. But, they only targeted rich men. That meant some insider at the hotels, or maybe within customs was feeding them the information.
Also, they only selected paper pushers. How could they guarantee that they wouldn't bag an ex-Navy seal, or some British SBS guy. Any one of them could clean those girls clocks. For that matter, why did they choose me? I hadn't been in any of the elite groups, but I still had a couple of years of dirty combat with the druggies. That was several years ago, and I was nowhere near in the same physical shape, but still, if I could level the playing field somewhat, these girls would get a surprise.
Then I remembered. The security form that I had to fill out when checking into the hotel. I had put down my current occupation, which I did - Venture Capitalist. Another term for saying that I invested in upcoming enterprises. So, the insider they had worked in the hotel - or hotels. They assumed that I was just another desk jockey.
Whatever. That information didn't help at the moment.
Assuming that the head girl was speaking the truth, I didn't need to worry about hiding until tomorrow. And, I doubted that they would hunt at night. That would not only be very difficult, but it would also somewhat even out the odds between the hunters and the hunted. Even one of those paper pushing klutzes could probably sneak up behind a girl in the dark and clock her with a rock.
First, I needed to check out the gaming grid so I got up and began to walk down the beach away from the girls encampment. A couple of miles later, I could tell that the island was widening out, but still had no idea of the length or actual size. A map would be as valuable as a gun at the moment. I doubt that any existed except on the sh...
I stopped and froze in my track. Wait a minute. Wait a fucking minute.
I had reversed direction and moved back up the beach toward the girls encampment. Just at the point that the curve of the shoreline allowed me to see the anchored ship, I stopped and faded into the bush. I estimated that the little village was about three hundred feet away but there was a lot of foliage between it and me, so unless the girls went for a walk, I should be safe.
The ship was the key. If this was a novel, rather than a true tale, I would swim out, climb aboard and - superhero like - learn to sail and leave the bitches stranded at the same time. If I could get out to it, I would have a major advantage. For one thing, I doubted that it even crossed their mind that some guy would swim into the lions den. I could hide in comfort and safety, and, possibly, stow away when they headed back to port.
But how to get there? I could swim - slowly - a quarter mile, but not with the chain on my nuts dragging me back and down. Or while holding it with one hand. Steal their skiff tonight. Unlikely. The oars couldn't be used by one person - the boat was too wide, and besides, the wood paddles on simulated wood boat creaked loudly. I only had one chance - I couldn't screw this up.
Back to how to get to the boat. I had to float out on something. Carefully, I made my way back down the beach, hugging the foliage and stopping to listen on occasion. Fortunately, the surf was down and it was fairly quiet.
Junk. Waterlogged wood. A piece of net. Ropes. Plastic items of all kinds, from packing beads to box inserts. There were mounds of plastic bottles washed up in every hundred yards of beach. If I collected enough of those and tied them together somehow, it would make a decent floater. Unfortunately, all were capless and most were sun cracked and deteriorated. I knew the reason for that. For the last twenty years, all disposable plastic items had to have a self destruct mechanism - in the case of bottles, it was a reaction to sunlight that slowly broke down the material.
The wood was useless. Not only was it in inconvenient sizes, but it barely floated itself. It would take tons of the stuff to hold me up. There were enough plastic pellets and shipping peanuts to float the Titanic, but I had nothing to hold them together with. There was lots of pieces of packing styrofoam, but none big enough to hold me up. If I could find a big enough piece, it might work if I laid on... Wait a minute.
I hurried back down the beach looking for... for... there it was. The piece of net that I had seen. I grabbed it with my free hand and pulled. Up came an old fishnet. Nothing that a fisherman would put to sea with - rotten and breakable just with pulling hard on the strands, but still, it was a possibility. I dragged it up into the foliage, under a large palm, and at least somewhat hidden from eyes that might be on the beach. I began to gather the pieces of expanded foam, making sure to only select those that were too large to go through the web of the net.
In an hour, even using one hand, I had a considerable pile sitting on the net. That should be far more than enough to keep me afloat. I picked up the edges and pulled them over the top of the pile. Then using pieces rope that I pulled loose from the edges of the fishnet, bound the entire pile into a bundle. I would loved to have hauled it out to the water and given it a test, but the stuff was blinding white in the sun and would be noticed by a blind woman who happened along. So, I just pulled it up under some plants and left it.
By now, I was getting both hungry and thirsty. I had no idea of where these 'caches' of food might be, or even if they existed, but I wasn't going to roam around looking for them. As to water, I could see the afternoon showers approaching. I hurriedly collected a pan and two buckets that I had seen, set them in the open and waited.
Nightfall was coming on, fast, like it did in the tropics. I didn't want to move until it was totally dark. That only took a few minutes, and I took one last fill of water that I had collected during the downpours, then dragged the bundle of foam down to the water line. If there had been any kind of wind going the wrong way, or a rip current, I would have been screwed. But, the surf was still down, the water was warm, and I prepared to go a-floatin'.
A hundred yards later I was still going and not floating. The incline of the beach was unbelievable. I was three hundred feet from shore and the water was only up to my waist. That made a change of plans. I continued to move offshore until the water was up to my neck, then began to walk parallel to the shoreline, towing the bundle behind me. As I moved along, very slowly, I could see the winking of a light or two from the girls encampment, shining on occasion through the foliage. Under the starlight, I could see the white plastic very well, but I doubted that anyone from shore could, especially with their night vision destroyed by the firelight and portable lamps.
Two hours later, I was inline with the pier, still about a hundred yards out. I could barely make out the ship in the dark as a darker bump on the horizon. This is it, I told myself as I headed out to sea. Shortly, the water was over my head and I was hanging onto the bundle with one arm and kicking with my feet. By keeping the lights of the girls behind me I knew I was going in the general direction of the ship. Going at about a quarter mile per hour.
The bundle worked. In fact, a whole lot less would have kept me afloat. Quickly, I found that the best way of propulsion was to lay on my back, holding the bundle over my body. That way, I could rest the chain with the weight on my stomach and free up both hands. I kicked slowly. Getting exhausted would be fatal. As would a wind coming up, but there was nothing I could do about that, so I didn't worry about it.
Slowly, on and on, hour after hour, I paddled with my feet. Actually, it was probably more like one hour, but it seemed forever before I saw the loom of the ship suddenly appear. I stopped, listened, then began to kick toward the port side and the ladder that I hoped was still down.
It was. I had made it.
I let my little foam raft go - with my fervent thanks - then began to climb the ladder. Quietly. And by that I meant, one step per minute. If there was a girl or two on board as an anchor watch, my plans would go to hell in a hurry. I got to the top and slowly raised my head just high enough to see around the deck. I waited. And waited. I could hear nothing but the slap of water against the hull. Fifteen minutes later, I had heard nothing to indicate that someone was on board. Eventually, I would have to move, so I might as well get it over with.
I climbed onto the deck, then slowly and silently in my bare feet - and bare everything else - began to explore the deck. Ten minutes later, I was satisfied that nobody was on board - at least on deck.
Now what? I needed to find a toolbox, a weapon and a hiding place at the minimum. At this point, my plans began to unravel. I knew about where the access to below decks was, but when I got there I was staring into an absolutely black hole. The schooner didn't have electric lighting - at least not like a house. The crew had used portable LED lamps that they carried around, but I had no idea where they were. And if I found one, I would have to be very careful about turning one on. A light showing through a porthole, or just a seam somewhere might as well be a flare.
I carefully walked down the ladder to the floor below, but it was totally black. Literally, I could not see my hand in front of my eyes - only the doorway with the slightly brighter sky showing through it. I would have to wait for daylight.
There was a pile of mats in front of the foremast, left over from the fun and games of the girls. I laid down to get some sleep.
I woke up in a start. The sky was light, but the sun was just barely creeping over the horizon. Then, in a panic, I heard both the creaking of oars and the chatter of women. Fortunately, I hadn't suddenly sat up. Just over the line of the bow, I could just see the ship's boat rowing out toward me. I flattened myself, rolled off the mats, then scuttled on my hands and knees across the deck toward the stern, dragging my chain and weight behind me. My knees were well bruised, but I made it to the aft ladder - stairs to a landman.
Now I could see somewhat, below, and I was in a narrow passageway. I moved down it, looking in different cabins and trying to find a place to hide. I came to the end of the passage - a solid wall. All I could do was duck into a cabin and hope they didn't find me.
It was a girl's room. Two bunks, and fitted out for females, floral sheets and all. I sat down in the corner behind the wall and waited. Shortly, I heard the thump on the hull then, barely, some conversation through the open porthole. It wasn't loud enough to understand, but it was female voices, nonetheless. In about five minutes, I heard plainly, an "Anchor secure." Then a much fainter, "Springlines are ok." Some more bumping, then nothing but silence.
For an hour, I waited, all senses on alert. Then, finally, I quietly padded back to the ladder and peeked out onto the deck. Listening for several minutes, I climbed up, but kept low. Nobody. The ship had swung in the morning wind and I could now see the encampment over the front quarter. Damn! The ship's boat was already tied up to the pier.
Then I knew that the girls had done a daily inspection of the ship. A smart thing when it is your only transportation from a remote place on earth. I would know now to sleep hidden any night that I spent on board.
But now, it was time to explore. With sunlight pouring down the skylights and in the portholes, I had no problem navigating around. I found the Captains cabin, the galley, stores... Ah, food. I ripped open a snack food container and gobbled it down. From the scuttlebutt, I drunk as much water as I could hold. Remember to toss the evidence, I reminded myself. A wadded up sack of corn chips on the floor would be fatal.
Finally, I found the ship's carpenter shop. Sort of misnamed, since the ship wasn't made of wood, but... It had tools. I went through drawer after drawer looking for allen wrenches. None. Where would they be kept? They probably wouldn't be hidden, since no slaves would ever be allowed to run free on the ship. I went back to the little office in the stern. The desk drawers didn't hold any either. Shit. I couldn't search every inch of a hundred foot boat for something that was the size of a key.
Back in the shop, I began to lay out the smaller screwdrivers. I knew that, if the allen screw hadn't been tightened to the point of swaging it in, then it possibly could be turned with the proper sized flat bladed screwdriver. Holding the donut around my nuts in the position that I could see the little screw, I tried one small blade after another. I needed one that just fit snuggly across the hex shaped hole. Very snuggly. If I stripped the hole, then I would be wearing this thing forever.
Here goes, I said. I held the donut firmly - I didn't want something to slip and for me to drive the sharp end of the screwdriver through my nuts - I firmly pushed the blade in to the hex slot. I applied some twisting force, then some more, then a little more, trying to gauge the point that the blade was going to bend or the hex hole was going to strip...
It turned! They hadn't tightened it all that much after all. And why would they? It wasn't going to come loose without a tool, even if it had been barely snugged. I twirled the screwdriver and shortly, the donut fell away in two haves. I sat back with a sigh of relief as my balls started to return to their normal location. Son of a bitch. That had been a pure and subtle form of torture.
I stood up, relishing the fact that I now had two hands and two feet. And on a male body in good shape. The times, they have a'changed.
I had borrowed the Captains binoculars from her cabin wall. By laying on the foredeck, it was very doubtful that anyone would see me even if they looked. After all, I was at least a quarter mile away. I could see nobody in or around the huts. I assumed that meant that the hunt had begun. Well, nothing to do here and the deck was getting hot, so I went back below to look around some more. There was still plenty of food on board, even with what I had seen being taken ashore. It suddenly occurred to me that I could just up anchor and let the ship drift away. Eventually, it would come to rest on some shore somewhere, although it might take months. I would keep that in mind.
Then, in a storage cabin I made a discovery that would have a major effect on any plans that I might make. On a shelf were four large boxes. Two were empty and two were still sealed. I looked at the logo and pictured on the side of one of the boxes. So much for my idea that the girls would be hesitant to hunt at night. With night vision goggles, the men would be sitting ducks, thinking they were safe from view and not bothering to hide in the nighttime. I assumed that two sets of the gear were on shore with the girls, given the two empty boxes.
I would have to be careful at night, also.
There were also five boxes for police quality gun tasers - again, two empty - and a box of ammo. I had no idea how they worked or loaded, but if necessary I could quickly learn. But a single shot non-lethal gun wouldn't help me against twelve opponents, so I paid little attention to them.
I found several sets of skin diving gear. The swim fins and wet suit would be good for what I was tentatively planning.
Another discovery was a chest with our clothes - which I had no interest in, yet - and five brief cases with our money.
Then, in a store room, I found another hatch. Opening it, in the light of the LED lantern that I was carrying, I could see that it accessed the very bottom part of the hull. I dropped into the opening and found that the head room was only about four feet at the hatch, and my feet had hit damp... what? I reached down and felt of the material. Coarse sand. Ah, this had to be ballast for the ship. I suddenly realized that I had found my hiding place. By tonight, I would have it fixed up with something to sleep on, plus water and food.
I could now see the girls in the village. I couldn't tell what was happening, but they were very active. I had spent the day fixing up my hidy-hole and was now just waiting for dark. Of course, I couldn't just haul armloads of food away from the storage. It might be missed. I carefully took only this and that, not enough of any single item to rouse suspicion.
At dusk, I slipped into the water, put on the swim fins and wet suit, a life jacket and struck out for shore. This journey was much faster than my outward voyage. Even though I took my time, in fifteen minutes I was at the pier. I moved under it in total darkness, then stopped at the point where the clearance was too small to go any farther. I could hear the girls chattering and could see the glow of their little campfire and the LED lanterns. I now had a wetsuit on - not for the usual protection from cold or coral but because it was black. The only white skin I had showing now was my hands, feet and a strip across my eyes. To the girls sitting around a campfire and under pure white lights, I should be totally invisible, even if they looked my way.
I slowly moved up to the village, about a hundred feet from the pier, carefully keeping a hut between me and the lights. Very slowly. At night, only movement of a black in black object catches the eye. Ten feet from it, I laid down then slowly scooted sideways to get a look in the encampment. I carefully counted the persons. Thirteen. So all the girls were there. That relieved my fear of a wandering guard roaming around. Assuming that they needed no lookout was stupid on their part - a newbie mistake of a non-combat trained person.
Wait. Thirteen? That meant that one had to be a man. I slowly moved up as far as the grass went, then just stopped and put my chin on my arm and settled in to watch. Yep, there he was. Standing up and tied to a pole, it appeared. I looked like Ferstenburg, but from the rear quarter I couldn't be sure.
The girls were eating and talking, totally ignoring their captive. I backed up, moved sideways again and back to the right. Making noise wasn't a problem for me - music was blaring loud enough to know they had just turned it on a few minutes ago. Otherwise I could have clearly heard it at the ship.
There was a fallen log between two of the huts that would allow me to get much closer. Shortly, I was looking between a fork in the downed tree - now close enough to tell who was who. If it weren't for the naked man tied to a pole in the center of the group, this could have just been a dozen college girls having a beach party. Well, not exactly. I assumed that most partiers wouldn't be entirely naked in the first hours of the fun.
I backed out slowly, then went around the chain of huts, looking in each. All of the girls were sitting down, facing the fire, eating and jabbering. With the girls sitting inside a ring of LED lanterns, and staring in into the bright flames of their campfire, I knew that I would be totally invisible to them. Heck, I could probably just stand up and casually stroll around and wouldn't be seen.
I found about what I thought I would. Four were just sleeping huts, one had supplies and one was a kitchen. When I saw the propane stove and cans of food, I backed out quickly - they would no doubt enter this hut often during their soiree. Once again I counted heads around the fire. All girls were still partying, so at the next hut I slipped in and got a surprise. Cages. Steel cages made of half inch bars, each about six feet high and deep and about four feet wide. It didn't take any thought to know what those were for. I wondered...
Suddenly, I heard a shout of "Ok, girls. It's time for the judgement" That was the Captain. I peeked out, then slipped around the ring of huts to my original viewing area behind the log. All of them were on their feet and moving around. Two began to untie the unfortunate captive and another pair picked up a short bench and brought it toward the fire and set it down. In a few moments he was led, struggling, to the bench, then bent over it long ways, and fastened down, doggy style.
"Who's turn was it?"
"No, Mine! You had it on the boat."
The Captain sorted out the ruckus, then a girl set a recliner just in front of the man's face, sat down on it, ooched up to his face and scissored her legs out, but with her ankles in to rest on his back. I well knew what this was - tongue exercise for the man. It went on for a minute or so, then...
"He doesn't have his heart in it."
A girl pushed the forked bar into one buttock and instantly he raised his head with a scream. A long loud "AUUUGGGGGG." The girl on her back pulled his head back into her pussy, both hands in his hair. Eventually, she got her little piece of heavenly joy, and was replace by another. Then another. God, I knew from experience that by now his mouth muscles had to be almost numb. Was he going to have to do all of them? This was a band of domineering bitches, for sure. I was wrong.
After the third girl, they chatted for a while, then another girl came out of the supply hut with something dangling... Shit, a dildo harness. And a plastic dong that would have looked proper sized on a stallion. I knew exactly what he was going to get, although he didn't yet. The band lined up beside the captive, and the equipped girl knelt behind his butt and inside of his spread legs. She fiddled for a few seconds and then...
The guy lifted his head in surprise, then I could see his eyes and mouth open to their fullest. He screamed again, this time it was a mortal howl that went on and on, interspersed with short pauses as he stopped to draw breath. His body jerked as he tried to pull his limbs loose, then tried to raise off the bench - anything to relieve the massive stretching of his asshole. It went on about five minutes before it got old. Of course, the girl got no sexual pleasure from using a plastic toy, so when his strength began to give out, they gave up. Well, on the dildo, anyway.
The girl stood up, but I realized that the apparatus wasn't on her hips any more. She had unbuckled it and it was still stuck in his rear. She picked up an object - I couldn't see what it was - then moved around to the front of the man. I could see that it was the girl called Julie - the gang rapee. She was definitely intent on getting her own back from mankind tonight. She stooped, pulled his head up by the hair and said, "Let me give you something to cover up the pain."
With that, she moved to his rear, bent over and did something. As she stood up, Ferstenburg screamed again, this time even louder than before. What the fuck? Then I heard the answer from a laughing girl.
"Nothing like a little cayenne lube to lube a virgin hole." Shit, she had apparently pulled the huge dildo out of him, and while his hole was still open and stretched, squirted some kind of pepper up his rectum. He was still screaming and panting, although his strength was giving out and the volume was dropping. Not domineering bitches having fun. Sadistic man hating bitches who wanted to inflict actual pain. I was still wrong.
A half hour passed as they sat back down and nibbled and chattered. Ferstenburg had quieted down, and his head was dangling down from his prone position. I could see him move a little on occasion, so he wasn't unconscious. Yet. Now what? Did they put him in a cage?
Eventually, two girls got up, moved out of sight, then, from the rafters of the big hut roof descended two... ropes? Shit, were they going to hang him? I didn't want to see that, but I didn't see what I could do about it. In a surprise rush, I could probably grab a spear and stab four or five girls, but I knew I couldn't do it fast enough to get them all. In a down and dirty fight, I would be fairly confident in holding my own - except for the vision of the girl that threw the spear and hit a man sized object with apparent ease. If all of them had that ability, I would be skewered in seconds.
Again, all the girls rose from their mats and stools and I knew that the next phase, whatever it was, was starting. Ferstenburg was unhooked, then pulled to his feet and walked to the dangling ropes - walking with a weird spread legged gait. When they reached the position of the dangling ropes, which I saw had apparently leather binders attached, both arms were secured in one rope each and then he was pulled to the standing stretched position. I assumed that he was in position, but again, a couple of women stooped down and tied a pair of ropes to his ankles. What the fuck was happening now? I knew that it wouldn't be a pleasurable experience for the unfortunate, but maybe he was just being put on display.
Wrong. Shortly, two girls went to the end of each rope across the hut, and pulled. His body rose in the air about three feet and dangled as they tied the ropes off. Then the ropes on his ankles were pulled and secured leaving him suspended in a X shape, three feet above the ground. That by itself would be excruciating torture in a few minutes, but I had a feeling that the fun and games were just starting. And, if he still had the consciousness to notice, there was the torture of the chain and weight dangling from his ball sac, now unsupported and hanging with full weight on his scrotum.
By now, I had made up my mind. They would not capture me again. This was way beyond get-even games by man-hating girls. If found, I would start breaking necks until they got me.
I watched a single girl step behind the miserable hanging male. She appeared to have a coil of rope in her hand, but I well knew what it had to be. And sure enough, she shook it out across the floor, drew her arm back and laced the whip around his ribcage. It hit his back, wrapped all the way around gain and the tip finally lashed a welt on his midriff. No blood that I could see, but in an instant, a scarlet ring of broken blood vessels began to appear. He screamed, but by now his strength was gone and it only came out as a low protest. Very slowly and deliberately, she stroked him, at least a minute between lashes. By the dozenth or so, he had fainted and they stopped, let him down and unfastened his limbs. One took each arm and leg and they hauled him out of sight toward the jungle. In a few minutes they were back, and the party resumed.
I could hear comments about him encouraging the others to better efforts in evading. Apparently, the girls really did want a hunting sport, not just fish in a barrel, so to speak.
I backed up far enough to be safe, then headed for the pier.
Laying on my cool mat in the bottom of the ship, I heard the morning anchor watch board the boat. Just like before, I heard them leave in about ten minutes. I quietly opened the hatch and padded up the ladder to the deck. I listened of a a minute while barely poking my head above the deck level to look around. Then I climbed up slowly, just enough to see over the side. The wind had moved the ship again, so the village was out of sight over front quarter. I crept up to the forecastle and finally could see the ship's boat just making shore. I had another twenty four hours to myself out here.
I spent the morning examining the ship. Finally, I was in an after space, right at the rear of the ship. This was where the steering chains passed through from the wheel to the rudder. Both had large turnbuckles, used to take out any slack in the chains. Perfect. I headed back to the carpenter's cabin, found a very large screwdriver and an adjustable wrench. It only took about ten minutes, and I had both turnbuckles spun off and the ends of the chain laying on the deck. Both of the devices I took back to the ballast hold and buried a foot deep in the sand just under the hatch.
Now, the ship wasn't sailable, and the fact wasn't evident. Whatever happened, I wasn't going to be left on the island by the ship sailing off without me.
I kept looking, and eventually found what I knew would be somewhere on the ship.
I made sure that the wind was from the shore, then had a filling lunch of soup. It wouldn't do for the smell of cooking to waft ashore. Then I went back to the bilge to sleep. I had a busy night planned.
As soon as it was dark, I headed for shore again, only this time I had two lifejackets - mine and a spare. Leaving the gear under the pier, I crawled back to my vantage point, wondering who was the unfortunate that was on the playbill for the night. I didn't have the night vision on - it would have been worthless looking into an encampment with both lights and a fire.
What the fuck was happening? This wasn't the laughter and banter of last night. They were pissed about something. I could see a prone figure on a low table or bench and surrounded by the girls. I wondered which of the poor dudes it was. Anyway, two or three were kneeling around the table, working him over, apparently.
Right now my problem was that my count was low. I wanted to always know where the individual girls were. If I could count twelve, then I knew that I couldn't be surprised when I moved around. But I could only see eleven. Obviously, one was either at the loo or in one of the huts. From this distance, their talk would have been understandable, but at the moment they were all jabbering and all I got was - well, just that - jabber. I wished I had brought the binoculars, although the use on a dark night looking into an illuminated scene would be very unwise. It would be almost impossible to avoid a lens flare that any of the girls looking in my direction would notice in a second.
I backed up and slowly moved around to get to a closer vantage point. About a third of the way around the encampment, I moved up behind a tree trunk and lay down. Now I could hear individual voices.
"... I don't think the bone is broken, Marie." I knew that Marie was the name of the leader. "But, she won't use the arm for a while."
She? The prone figure was a girl. Hmmmm.
"She'll be ok now. There wasn't enough blood loss to do anything but make her weak. She just needs rest."
Another girl came up holding a spear. "I have her weapon, Marie. He didn't get it. I guess he just hit her and ran."
Well, well. So they found out that even an out of shape paper pusher will fight back in the necessary circumstance. Apparently one of the guys clobbered his captor and hauled ass.
"Ok. Take her to her tent and make her comfortable." Shortly she was being cradled in the arms of several of the girls and taken to one of the huts.
The Captain walked up to the cunt that I knew was the second in command and said, "Post a guard for tonight - two hour shifts. I don't think that we need to worry, but let's be safe. When she wakes up in the morning I want to know if she can tell us who did it."
Her second said, "It probably has to be that Harris guy. He's the only one in any kind of shape to do this."
She nodded. "Maybe. We'll find out. Tomorrow we bring two of them in and ask them."
Great, I thought. So now I'm the bad guy with the Wanted - Dead or Alive poster. I doubted that it would do any good to stand up and proclaim my innocence, so I just backed out and headed for the pier.
I had spent the entire day planning and testing after the morning anchor watch left. I opened one of the taser boxes and read the instructions. Not much to it. Just insert a cartridge, turn it on and pull the trigger. These were fairly new models that shot four sets of barbs - one each time you pulled the trigger.
After dark I was under the pier again with two lifejackets - and a plastic trashbag filled with some other stuff. At least now I was armed with something. The taser wouldn't stop a spear thrust, but would let me get away as long as I wasn't swarmed by the whole group. I moved up to my convenient log and settled in for the entertainment.
The had obviously gone hunting during the day since they had two captives. A double feature. Both Dillard and Walker were tied back to back to the holding pole.
Eventually, dinner was over and the girls broke up from their individual gab sessions to gather around the night's fun boys. I backed up and slowly moved around the circumference to the outhouse - the loo, as the girls called it. Of necessity from an odors standpoint, it was by itself about sixty feet from the village. A lean-to with a grass roof, it was just a hole in the ground for the girls to do their business out of the sun or rain.
In my black wetsuit, I was just another still shadow among many in the foliage. Girl bladders, being what they were worldwide - too small - and western training made the use of a proper toilet mandatory. Little girls were taught to pee often, and never, ever emulate the uncouth little boys - always squat in a proper place, not in the open beside a tree. Besides, since shaking a cunt wasn't an option, the use of toilet paper was a must, and it had to be kept out of the daily rains.
I heard the scream, shouts and laughter that told me the curtain on the night's entertainment had gone up.
I waited, but with anticipation, not apprehension. On nights like this under another tropic sky, I used to stalk guys with AK-47s. Young punks who killed for any reason, or, sometimes, for no reason at all except fun. I was still alive and any that I crossed swords with back then weren't. Now I was at it again, only this time it wasn't soulless drug gangers - these were just women - cunts who should be either in the kitchen cooking or laying on the bed with their legs spread, ready to service their man. They didn't know the first rule of a war - that is, the attacked party sets the rules, not the attacker.
And I had decided that there were no rules.
Shortly, I heard what I was waiting for.
The goggles were good equipment - not up to the latest military versions, for sure, but still very good. Probably ex-military gear a couple of generations old. The main thing was, that I could now see in the dark and nobody else on the island could. I could plainly see a green girl walking down the path. I wondered if they would come to the loo with a flashlight, in which case I would turn the googles off, but in this case she didn't. I was just a black hole in the air, standing beside a tree, totally motionless.
As she passed the tree, I stepped out and simultaneously swing my fist in a heavy blow to her midriff. There was a distinct whoosh of her air forceably leaving her lungs. I yanked the doubled over woman off the trail and onto the ground. In a second she was on her back and I was straddling her, waiting for her lungs to get a whiff of air. Soon, she was gasping a little, but had nowhere near enough breathing recovered to shout or scream. I needed for her to be able to breath through her nose before the next action.
Finally, I decided that she was ready and, with both legs pinioning her arms, used both hands to wrap a piece of wide duct tape over her mouth and about six inches around each side of it. It would be quite a while before she could work her mouth free, but if I didn't my stuff properly, she wouldn't even get started.
With the end of a screwdriver, I poked a hole in it, between her lips, then stuck a ketchup squeeze bottle nipple through the hole. And squeezed. She choked as some went the wrong way, but most of the liquid finally was gulped down. She had no choice - she had to swallow the liquid before she could start breathing again. I hoped she liked wine.
It only took a few minutes for the drug to take effect - the same one that they had used in our drinks the night of the luau. I hoped I had the dose right - I used plenty - but heck, there is some risk to becoming a man-hating slave catcher.
She was out. I pulled her over my shoulder in a fireman's carry and headed for the pier.
Back at the loo
This time it was two - this time with a small LED flashlight. If it had been three, I would have faded out and let them do their business. I had hoped for one at a time, but knew that girls often made a commune of going to the head. They were chattering as they walked and appeared to be unarmed, so obviously their cohort hadn't been missed yet. This time, I would have to do things a little differently. Now, even the sliver of moon was gone and it was pitch black. Only the white sand path and the white poles of the loo were visible. Their eyes would still not be adapted to the dark - it takes fifteen minutes or so to recover fifty percent of night vision after leaving the light. So, I could easily see them, but they would see nothing.
One went into the leanto and the other waited for her turn. Again, there was a whoosh of air, but little else as I picked up the doubled over girl and dropped her into the grass, then turned off her flashlight. No time for finesse, now. I just straddled her, put my hand over her wide open and gasping mouth, stuck the nipple of the dispenser between two fingers and squeezed. She got a full dose - about half of the container - and was choking on it when I pulled the precut length of tape off my body and slapped it over her mouth.
I flipped her over, whipped the long piece of cloth from around my neck - also precut - and tied her hands behind her back. Just in time. I could see movement toward the loo and a voice calling, "Sandy? What's wrong with your light?"
"There you are," she said as 'Sandy' walked up to her. In another second, she was doubled over and gasping. Within a few minutes, I had two unconscious girls lying on the ground.
Time was money, so to speak. I carried first one, then the other to the spot under the pier and put life jackets on both. Shortly we were in the water and heading for the ship. I could only take two of them, but even so, dragging two deadweight bodies was slow, but I really gave it the effort this time. I was in a hurry. The ship loomed out in the darkness and I steered for the ladder.
There wasn't really a rush, but it didn't take any time at all for me to haul them below and manacle their legs to the bunks. There was no shortage of binder steel in this ship. I had found an entire cabinet full of manacles, handcuffs, ropes, and stuff I didn't even recognize.
Back in the water I went.
As I crawled up to my friendly log, I could tell that they hadn't noticed yet. The party was still in full swing. Walker was strung up in the same position as Furstenburg had been last night, but he wasn't being lashed. Instead, the laughing girls had attached a bucket to his chain and they took turns pissing into it. He groaned as it got heavier and heavier. I wanted to do something before they tore his nuts off, but I still hadn't cut the competition down to size yet.
Dillard was... Holy fucking shit! He was tied to a spit, suspended between two forked poles like a hog ready for roasting. A small fire - not the bigger one in the center of the hut - was burning under him. Not enough to actually cook him yet, but plenty hot enough to be painful. On occasion a girl would walk over and turn the handle at the end of the spit and rotate him around to cook another side. Were they going to eat him?
Son of a bitch! If I had a gun, there would be nine corpses on the ground in seconds. Ok. So pray for a gun in one hand and shit in the other and guess which hand gets filled first.
What to do? There was still the problem of multiple spear chucking amazons to avoid...
Wait a fucking minute! None of them had spears. In fact, I didn't see any. Anywhere.
Hmmmm. It was obvious they didn't worry about an assault by their quarry during the party, so why carry them after the capture? They had two of the men as party favors, and as far as they knew, another was out somewhere nursing a widened asshole.
The question was, where were they? I backed out, then moved the other way around the village. Stopping and looking around a hut, I counted noses. Yes, still nine under the big top and playing games.
I slipped into the supplies hut by lifting the phony woven reed skirt. No spears. But, in the flickering light of the bonfire, I could see, sitting on a box, the two missing night vision goggles and two tasers. Not much else except cases of food items. Nonetheless, this was a find. I crawled back out with all four pieces of gear. Shortly, they were stashed under the pier.
Next, I looked through the weave of the wall into the kitchen hut. A girl was searching among a shelf of bottles - damn, I had forgot to count heads when I came back. Get with the program, I told myself. Eventually, she picked two and left. Entering this hut wasn't just a matter of pulling back the skirt and crawling in. There was an overhead lantern that was on with plenty of illumination for even non dark adjusted eyes to see an intruder with.
It was a problem that had to be handled because I could see the phalanx of spears leaning against the wall. I slowly crawled into the hut, all the time watching the door. My problem was that the opening didn't exactly face the area that the girls were playing their games in, so it was a definite possibility that one could suddenly walk in on me. Well, if she did, she would get the breadbasket treatment, although my bye-bye juice bottle was under the pier.
I was in, then skipped rapidly over to the door and looked around the corner. Four, six - yes, all nine were there. And the other two, both screaming on occasion as one rotated over the fire, and as one was almost having his nuts pulled off.
I gathered up the spears, then with much less stealth, pushed through the material and hauled ass for the beach. I put them, and the other stuff, into the lifeboat. After tonight there was no sense in trying to keep the fact secret that there was a joker loose in the pack.
Back under the pier, I got ready for my next move. I turned on my night vision set to make sure it was still working, then picked up my taser and a single spear. Everything else I put in boat. Then I headed down the beach. I looked up at a bright star - no idea what it's name was, but I could tell by its position that the night was now about half over.
By now the party had to be over. I wondered if the two men were still alive. There was still jabbering coming from the village, but it was just girl talk, not taunting or screams. I knew I was now safe - I could see in the dark and had the only weapons that were available.
I sat in the grass beside the path leading to the 'outhouse.' Eventually, another girl had to come along, although by now they might be so sloshed that they just squatted and pee'ed where they sat. I had to be careful not to look directly into the camp. The lights and dying fires caused green flares in the goggles that were as blinding as looking directly into a spotlight. And just as damaging to temporary night vision.
Then, I heard a call. "Sandeeeey." "Keeeeenaaaa." Uh-oh. They knew somebody was missing. It was just a matter of time before they really became alarmed and went for their weapons. That is when it would really hit the fan. The question was, did I want to hang around?
Suddenly, my goggles flared with a bright moving spot. I flipped them up and watched a trio of flashlights coming up the path. I backed off, not because I couldn't handle three unarmed girls, but because I doubted that I could quiet all three before one or two gave out a warning shout. It was important to my plans for them to not know what they were up against. Googles back on, I continued to watch. Then I saw another girl heading for the pier. Apparently their leader had told them to spread out and search.
Swiftly I moved across the sand toward the girl. She was calling and pointing her flashlight back and forth, but not behind her. That was fatal. She apparently heard my feet barely crunching the sand, and began to turn as I got up to her. "San... Oooooffffff" was all she got out. The taser just made a little pop as it fired the two barbs into her body at a range of about five feet. She stiffened, then just toppled over like a felled tree. I held the trigger down and watched her body quiver with the multi-thousand volts coursing through her body until I decided that she wasn't going to resist for a while.
Once again, I did my procedure the fast way, by just holding my hand over her mouth and squirting a load of drugged wine down her throat between the fingers. I just sat on her for several minutes until she went limp, then carried her to the lifeboat. I picked up my previous catch, still unconscious and bound, and put her in it also. Pushing as hard as I could, I shoved the boat toward the ship until the water began to get up to my waist, then jumped in.
If there had been any wind at all, I wouldn't have tried it. The high sided and big wooden boat would have been pushed downwind against anything I could do. But, it was calm, and by using an oar as a clumsy paddle, first on one side then on the other, I slowly pushed us away from shore. By now, I could definitely hear shouting that meant the alarm had been given. I would rather have left the boat - its absence would automatically tell them that whoever took their girlfriends were on the boat, but I didn't want to risk all eight of the others paddling out and swarming the ship while I was asleep.
At the ship, I tied the boat off, then hustled one of the new captives to her suite, then headed back on deck. The forecastle was pointed to the island at the moment, so I could use a lantern without being seen. I walked over to the empty boat davit and winched both lines down, got back in the boat and paddled it to the cables and hooked up both ends. A little while later, moving back and forth between both winches, one man doing a two girl job, I got the boat up and back in carry position in the davit. Now I just had a couple of chores before I could get some food and shuteye.
First was a circumference pass of the ship's rail, looking for any dangling ropes or items that could be used to climb up the side of the ship. Of course, I had taken the ladder up. Nothing. Now, unless they swam out carrying a grapnel, they would have no way to climb the sheer hull.
My last task was to take the last girl down to the common area and lay her on the low table that seemed to be a favorite of the girls for various activities. I laid her on her back, X'ed her out and hooked up the four chains and adjusted them so that she was taut, but not stretched. I stood up and looked. A real dish, everything open and available.
But, the night had been long and not without excitement, so I curbed my desire for information and sacked out.
I lay there, asleep, trying to put the semi-dream and partial thought together that kept trying to form, but just wouldn't quite make it. I was back in my childhood home, trying desperately to close the loosened floorboard under which I kept my stack of nudie mags. And I could hear my mother coming up the stairs. No matter how much I tried, the board just wouldn't go back - for some inexplicable reason, it had become too large. Then, the door began to swing...
My eyes popped open and I realized that my bladder was indicating that it needed pumping badly. But that isn't why I woke up. "Son of a bitch," I said to myself. Of course. These girls - or rather, their leader - wasn't going to rely on some spears in the hands of girls to keep order. THAT's why she didn't fear capturing a lion along with the sheep.
My sleeping pattern had been unconventional in the last few days. Four hours in the afternoon and four hours in the early, early morning. It was strange, but my body didn't seem to complain as long as it totaled up a proper number every twenty-four hours. This morning, however, I was woken up a little early. Apparently some passengers were complaining or something. I could hear them calling to one another from room to room.
I got up, stretched, then went topside for a look-see. Nothing could be seen on the shore, and just to be safe, I walked the ship's rail again looking into the water. By now the Captain had to know she was in the shit - the only variable was just how deep. Right now it was a stalemate. I had the ship, but the required crew was on the island. There was no way in hell that even Davy Jones could sail this hundred foot tub by himself. I was sure that I could make a deal to give it back if they took me along - a real stupid deal.
Still, the bulk of the food was still on the ship, and fiction stories notwithstanding, they weren't going to live very long on coconuts and breadfruit once the supplies on the island ran out. Come to think of it, did the island even have coconuts? I hadn't seen any, but then I hadn't been on a botany expedition, either.
I had the electric prod with me. I was sure it would work just as well on a female as it did on a man. I could still hear the women calling to each other and trying to figure out just what had happened. In the big common cabin, the spread out girl was awake - definitely awake as her eyes were open and got wider as she saw me enter. She opened her mouth to say something then saw the prod and snapped it shut. This beautiful little man-hater was looking at me in definite fear.
I walked up to her and stuck the prod - not gently - between her tits and said, "I suggest you keep silent until I ask you a question. Or I WILL pull this this trigger. Capeesh?" She nodded, eyes still wide.
"First question. What happened to the two men you were torturing last night?"
"They were turned loose this morning."
"After his nuts were pulled off!? And the other roasted like a duck!"
She shook her head rapidly, looking back and forth between me and the prod. "No! No! They weren't damaged."
"What happened to the injured girl."
"Kathy? She was attacked by a sla... a man when we were hunting."
"Who? And how?"
She shook her head violently again. "I don't know! She was still asleep the last time I saw her."
I just stood and thought for a moment. Then, "You stay here till I come back." A joke. The way she was stretched out, she could barely move, let alone walk away.
Down the passageway, I entered a cabin. The girl inside looked at me in shock, then backed up as far as her manacled ankle would allow. Pointing the prod at her, I said, "Lay down. On your stomach. Put your wrists behind you." She wanted no part of the prod and immediately did what I commanded. In short order, I had all three in the same position and was towing them down the passageway to the deck ladder. Up the steps we went, to the mid deck.
"Squat." I pointed to the deck. "You there. And you. No! Not on your knees. Squat." They settled down on their haunches as I pointed. I backed up and looked them over. A bevy of beauties for sure. Except for some unbecoming modesty. "Spread your knees apart. It's a nice day. A little breeze blowing through those cracks will feel good." Unwillingly, they slowly spread their legs, one less than the others. Good.
I suddenly stepped up to the uncooperative girl and jabbed the prod into her stomach and squeezed the trigger. The results were spectacular. She both screamed and jumped at the same time, landing on her manacled wrists in a muscle jerking heap. "When I say spread your legs, I mean all the way. Get back in position." She made a hard time of it, but finally got back to squatting. Only this time, her knees were at full spread.
Suddenly, I looked closer at one as recognition set in. Well, well.
Ok. How to play this? I had come up with a couple of scenarios already, but decided I would just take if off the cuff. Remember, I told myself - this war has no rules. I needed some props, so I headed back below for a few minutes, assuming that the girls wouldn't take the opportunity to jump overboard and try to swim to shore with their hands manacled behind their backs - with heavy manacles. Shortly I was back up and dropped a long length of chain and a whip in front of them.
"Ok," I said to them. "Here's the deal. I'm going to ask questions. Lots of them. And you are going to answer. The girl who does the best job gets to sleep in my bed and will be allowed to fuck me. THe next best gets strung up and lashed with that whip, just like the poor unfortunate a couple of nights ago. The one that I think does the worst job of answering me gets wrapped in that chain and dropped overboard."
I had their full attention. These might be self assured ladies who thought they were equals with the world, but they were now looking at me with fear in their eyes. No, not fear. Actual panic.
"Ok. Let's get started." I pointed to the middle girl. "How did you get into this..."
Very interesting. Quite a set of tales from a set of tails. I got the reason for the dilemma I was in, but they didn't give me anything that I could actually use in the war. But, they had all fallen over themselves to try not to be the receiptent of the girl chain - the one that they could plainly see piled in front of them. They were in for a rough time, and if I had to defend myself, I would use as much force as needed, including the lethal kind, but there was no way that I would just deliberately drown a helpless girl.
But, it wouldn't do to let them know that. Time for breakfast for everybody, but first...
"You." I pointed to the girl that I had recognized and pointed to the deck. "Lay down on your belly."
At this point she almost collapsed. She began begging for mercy - sobbing to please let her live. Obviously, she assumed that she was the one that drew the black spade. "On your belly. NOW!" That did it. Her bladder let go and she sort of collapsed forward in a heap. I stood over her, unlocked the manacle from one wrist, then pulled both arms above her head and attached it again.
"Stand up," I ordered. She managed to get to her feet, with my pulling up on one arm, but her legs were so weak from fear that she could barely stand. I tied the end of the long whip around her neck then began to pull her toward the bow. Up on the forecastle, I selected one of many ropes available for my purpose. In a short while, I had her standing in the middle of the deck with her manacled arms pulled as far above her head as they would go without her feet leaving the deck.
This was the girl that had put the whip to the back of Ferstenburg.
I left her there and headed back down the ladder to my other two captives. I pointed to one - a nice brunette with big jugs hanging down just above her wide open crack. "You. Can you cook?"
I put a pair of ankle manacles on her, with a foot of chain so she could at least hobble along, then told her to follow me to the kitchen. In there, I released her wrists and hooked her foot metal to a long chain so that she couldn't leave the galley. "Get a breakfast ready for five people." Without waiting for a reply, I headed back to the middle deck - sorry, waist of the ship.
The last girl was still squatting on the deck, now terrified that she was the only one left in the company of the heavy chain. I pointed and said, "Lay down." She got on her knees then rotated her body sidewise to flop down sideways, then rolled onto her stomach. As I picked up an end of the heavy chain, she began to scream out pleas for mercy. I began to wrap the links around her legs like winding a string back onto a stick. Now she was hysterical, frantically begging for mercy and incoherent offers of services.
I stopped my winding, stood up and squatted in front of her. Grabbing a handful of hair, I pulled her head up as far as her neck would let it bend backwards. "So. You want a chance to live?" The babble that spewed out I assumed to be an affirmative answer. I waited for her to run down, then continued. "Then listen carefully. There is one question between you and the fish." I didn't think a set of eyes could get that wide.
"Where does your captain keep her guns?"
I wondered if my dreaming revelation of last night was correct. I knew I had hit the jackpot went she choked out, "I... I... In her cabin."
"Where!?" I demanded.
"I don't know," she blurted. Then, desperate for me to believe her, added, "Please. Please, I don't know. I never saw where she puts it."
Well, well. Now the entire capture process made more sense. If any men got loose during the voyage, she would probably let her girls try to take care of the problem with their spears, but if it came to the last ditch, she would just blow away the mutineers with a firearm. But, she would go to great lengths to make her captives think that there were no weapons on board except for the girl's stickers. That would keep the plots and plans about finding it from being hatched.
I stood up. "Ok. If I find it, you can live. If I find that you have lied, over the side you go." She just dropped her head to the deck as her trembling muscles refused to hold it up any longer.
The cook had made breakfast, and after I had eaten my fill, I told her to take a portion to each of the other three girls. Two of them, she had to feed by hand, since being strung up by the wrists and X'ed out on a table didn't allow for the use of a knife and fork. Afterward, I started on the captain's cabin. It didn't take long. Behind the full length and removable mirror on the bulkhead was a space big enough for a shotgun and three boxes of shells. Specifically, a riot pump that held seven or eight rounds - far more than enough to handle any male insurrection on her vessel.
For now, the important thing was to make sure that a girl who got loose during the night while I was sleeping didn't get hold of it. They might, even if none of them knew where she hid it. Shortly, it was laying on the now unused mat in the bilge. I had just gone from being a quarry to becoming the dominant male. Now I would see if I could promote myself to Head Motherfucker in Charge.
On the foredeck
Through the binoculars I could plainly see seven of the girls standing on the dock, looking out at the ship. A quarter mile was a bit long for them to be able to make out many details, but their young eyes couldn't miss a girl strung up vertically in front of the foremast. And sound would easily carry the distance.
I had never used a whip before, so I took a few practice swings at the mainmast before I came forward. It didn't seem to be all that difficult. My only question was how much damage would it inflict. I didn't want to cut the girl's skin to pieces. I had much better plans for her - most of which consisted of her being prone and under me.
She was still just standing passively, with her head bowed forward between her raised arms. I walked up and grabbed a boob, jiggling and weighing it for a few seconds. Then the other one. Nice. Of course, it goes without saying that by now I was hard as a rock. No matter what I decided to do in the next few minutes, before I left the forecastle this bitch was going to receive a load.
My hand wandered down to her crotch, but this time I got a reaction. She tightly clamped her thighs together, probably in more of an automatic reaction than any hope that it would do any good. I reached up and took a nipple between a thumb and finger.
"Ahhhhhhhggggggg" she screamed as I clamped down.
I put my face about three inches from hers. "You better learn, and learn fast, bitch, that if I want to touch or feel or do anything else to any part of your body, then you'll do you best to help. Understand, cunt!?" That last word went with another squeeze.
"Ohhhhhhaaaa. YES SIR YES SIR." Her legs vee'd out to give my finger access. My fingers pulled and poked and probed for a while, then...
I measured my distance behind her, and without her having any idea of what was coming, pulled my arm behind me to lay the lash out on the deck. My arm came around in a moderate roundhouse swing and the whip contacted her back about halfway between her neck and rear crack. The bitter end kept traveling around under her rib cage, over her stomach, under the other arm and finally landed in the middle of her back, about an inch under the other leather.
The whip fell away and she slung her head back in an ear splitting scream. I watched in fascination as a thick line began to appear encircling her midriff. It appeared pink at first then gradually over a minute or so became a crimson red. I stepped up behind her to examine it at close range, relieved that the whip hadn't cut the skin. I knew it would if I cracked it with a wrist motion rather than a swing with my whole arm.
During that minute, she continued to scream, panting as fast as she could draw breath. Finally, when I thought that she was beginning to get over the shock of the lash, I gave her another one, about two inches below the last. Again, a blood curling scream as the pain began anew. I looked over the bow at the audience. There was no doubt that her shouts of pain could be heard on shore, but I could see no reaction among the viewers. But, what could they do?
I decided that one lash a minute was just about the perfect tempo for her to get the maximum punishment from each stroke without any relief until the next one.
For the next dozen or so minutes, the foredeck rang with cry of pain, although toward the end, the volume was greatly diminished as exhaustion set in on the girl. She now had somewhat of the appearance of a red and white striped zebra. Finally, I dropped the whip on the deck. It wasn't that she couldn't take any more, but that I couldn't.
I was rock hard and rutting like a teenager in his first whorehouse. I had no time for finesse, so I just stepped up behind her, wet my johnson with some spit, kicked her legs apart and began to feed it up her rear shaft. At this point, I doubt that she even knew what was happening. Even if anal sex was new to her, the pain would be nothing to what she was feeling from her back and midriff. Reaching around for her jugs, I grabbed hold and began to pump.
I got much satisfaction, all around.
All of the girls except the designated cook were now chained in their cabins. The girl on the table I had leisurely fucked in position then turned her loose, sore and cramped from being X'ed out all day. As I enjoyed my afternoon snack in the shade of the furled mainsail, I thought over my plans.
I had realized that I was now enjoying myself. Being the slave master of unwilling cunts sure beat the hell out of buying and selling stocks. What would happen in the end, I didn't know, but for now I was going to take full advantage of the situation.
I had a ship - immobile, of course. I had no idea how to put together a crew in a way that was safe enough to get me back to civilization. Girls couldn't crew and climb ropes wearing manacles. But, the ship had food for months, and if I did a little fishing, it would last much longer. Water was replenished in the frequent rains with the water traps spread around the ship. Eventually, the propane would run out for the cook stove and that would be a problem, but again, it would last months.
In effect, I was in a castle. Even if the girls swam out, they couldn't climb the slick sides of the ship. Besides, if I saw anyone swimming around near the ship, a shotgun blast near them would bring home the helplessness of their situation. They had no weapons - I had them all. They were female and I was male - and a male with combat experience that was now doing exercises twice a day to get back in some semblance of shape. Even now in unarmed combat I could probably clobber any four of them at a time, as long as I didn't allow one of them to slough me over the head with a log.
With amusement, I thought about the idea that, if I got tired of the four cunts on board, I could just toss them overboard and let them swim back to shore. Then, fully equipped with night vision, taser and bye-bye juice, go 'hunting' in the night for new bedmates. Kind of like turning in a game that I was tired of for one that I hadn't played yet.
Eventually, I would come across the other men, assuming that they weren't done away with by the girls. Every man brought on board just multiplied the odds against the girls. With five men, we could make the girls take us back.
The girl, chained by the ankle to the mast next to me after her cooking duties were done, stirred and rolled over to a new position on her mat, making sure that nothing was hidden. I had given her orders, in a no uncertain manner, that her knees were never to come together and her arms and hands would never get between her jugs and my eyes. Even though I had had two pieces of ass today, I couldn't take my eyes off her lovely crack. And my dick couldn't take its mind off it either.
I continued to muse about the future. This wasn't a rowboat. When we got back to port - however we got back - the authorities would notice and I'm sure do a customs inspection. Then would come a ton of questions that we wouldn't have the answer to. I could see the claims flying back and forth about who kidnapped who and which party was the raper and which was the rapee. The end result would no doubt be all of us behind bars and on the pages of every Internet tabloid in the world.
A better solution would be to just find a deserted section of shoreline and jump ship. But that still had the problem that begins with a shipload of girls pulling into port later with a wild tale of being kidnapped and sexually abused and then ends with us on the run.
Now the girl was on her back, laying with arms at her side and legs spread per my orders. She appeared to be napping.
One way would be to just dispose of all of the females, just like they were planning to do to us. The problem is that a secret of that magnitude, spread among five men, couldn't possibly stay a secret past the first bar. And, even though my level of self preservation was fairly high, I was fairly sure that I couldn't bring myself to kill and then dump twelve beautiful women over the side.
This predicament was going to take some serious thought, which is tough when your gonads are aching. I stood up and the girl opened her eyes. She hadn't been napping. It was obvious to her what I wanted - my almost vertical pole was a dead giveaway - and since she was already in position, all she had to do was bend her knees and bring her open legs up a little.
I knelt between her knees and prepared my aim. Worries about tomorrow, could keep until... well, tomorrow.
Copyright© 2012 by Morlock. All rights reserved. I welcome your comments. Email me at Morlock1024@yahoo.com