December 7, 2005
After a wonderful, calm crossing of the Northern Pacific, we slowly approached the Equator. Sometimes you catch the weather systems right, other times it’s motor or choose to extend your cruise from 15-20 days to 30+ days. The Blue River Two had electric propulsion that when we were sailing, the props created electricity and charged the batteries (a huge bank, a little more than the weight of the diesel engines they had replaced). When we motored, we used the battery power and supplemented it with two small generators on board, some solar panels, and a windmill generator. Every fours hours of battery usage propelling the boat only required one hour of one of the generators to keep up. With both running, we had plenty of power on board for the fridge, the freezer, all the electronics, lights, and stuff.
Part of the stuff being three submissives in training. Holly, Andrea, and Terry had passed months of screening. At the end of the day, over five hundred qualified candidates had applied. I didn’t track the posers and wanna-bees. I had placed ads in the Life-Style publications, let others in the world know what I was up to, and let the word of mouth expand. My screening had been extensive and exhaustive. I am very comfortable within myself and my power in the world. I know my limits, but I’m always willing to push them. Five hundred resumes, seventy-five personal interviews, and I had my crew of three. I had considered two or four. Yet, the chemistry between these three I felt would work.
As we approached the Equator, I began planning for the visit from King Neptune. A long term tradition for people making their first crossing of the Equator — turning Pollywogs into Shellbacks. I’ve crossed so many times I can’t count. Had to submit to the pollywog treatment more than once because I didn’t have the right documentation with me. Now, for the umpteenth time, I’m going to be King Neptune, and for the half of an umpteenth time, without a court. All three of my lovelies were pollywogs.
At 5 degrees North of the Equator I began planning. The traditional ceremony includes the arrival of King Neptune and his court. Then the presentment of the Polliwogs to the court — which includes a bit of debasement and torment (including some coverings of the body with nasty things and the loss of hair when proper- my ladies were all bare, so not an issue) … Then there is the confession before the court of the sins. If no sins are offered, then they are invented by the court. Then the atonement phase involving various debasements. Then the gauntlet with paddles and the walking of the plank to receive the absolution of King Neptune. Finally, after all the new Shellbacks are safely back on board, there is a celebration party.
Now, how to pull all this off with just me as the Court. It was wonderfully delicious that none of my crew was fully aware of the ceremony. How to properly pull this off?
On a watch at the helm through the night by myself — just catching early glimpses of the Southern Cross, I came up with a plan. The first thing I did was re-arrange the watch schedule as we got closer to the fateful moment. It was not unusual for me to take an eight hour watch and the girls were well enough trained to not question the posting of the watch schedule the boats Internet (okay, I’m a computer geek and have touch screen systems all through the boat).
Given our track, we were still a few days away from the actual crossing. I even adjusted course so the crossing would be mid-afternoon. Then I set the watch schedules so everyone would be up and working The beauty of taking a long night watch is that everyone else takes the opportunity and sleeps. For safety reasons, at least one of them is not bound and restrained to the boat in some way. Tonight, Holly had the privilege of being “loose” and on-call to satisfy any whim and desire I might have. Given her harsh punishment a few days ago, she was being exceptionally well behaved. Although she was not restrained in any way, she was wearing a blindfold and required to keep it on while she rested. I could go below to collect what I needed to begin the construction of the devices I would need for the ceremony. I checked around the boat, looked at the radar and GPS, scanned the readouts from the various systems on the boat, and decided it was safe to go below for about 20-30 minutes.
Holly was sleeping on the settee in the salon. I nudged her and told her I was going to be below for 15-20 minutes. She should be aware if any alarms went off, I screamed for help, or don’t return within 20 minutes. I needed to spend time in the Starboard hull tonight. Fortunately, Terry and Andrea were bound and restrained in the Port hull (a catamaran has two hulls with a deck and salon connecting them — mine is 57 feet long and about 28 feet wide). The image of the ways I had secured them for the night (always a pleasure tucking my slaves into bed) entered my mind. I had to force the image of Terry’s bound breasts out of my head and Andrea’s position, spread and waiting for me when I went off shift — oh, I needed to get on with my mission. Yet, knowing she was bound across the short side of the bunk, with her hands and her feet pulled back, exposing her pussy and ass to me…
Oh, the work a trainer has to go through! I managed to collect the things I needed, grab the laptop, a fresh bottle of water, and be headed out of the Salon to the Cockpit in 18 minutes. I even managed to go and check on the state of Terry’s tits and take advantage of Andrea’s openings on the way! Oh, the pain, the suffering, the denial (fingers were not enough, I was rock hard)!
The mission was way to important. I had gathered the materials I needed to convert the landing bridge into a plank off the stern (I’d have to have the dingy in the water and away from the stern — which was okay, I planned on being “dead” in the water anyway). I had also grabbed the suspension cuffs for all three, some paddles, and other devices. The laptop was for note taking and planning, as well as changing the schedules around.
I was too busy the rest of the watch to go below again and play — damn. Well, this was worth my torment and denial. Okay, I had Holly pleasure my cock with her mouth and throat before I went back on deck.
Over the next few days I tried to act normal, yet they all picked up on the building energy within me. I could read it, they became more submissive and more obedient.
Finally, the big day arrived. Just north of the Equator, I went dead in the water — no sails, no motor — we just drifted, fortunately slowly south (I had read the current maps from NOAA right). I called all the girls up on the fore deck and placed the suspension cuffs on each set of ankles and wrists. Securing the ankles to the deck at the base of the mast and each set of wrists from a special halyards I had installed for just such occasions, I was able to pull the dears up off their toes (the joy of hydraulic winches — winches for my wenches!). One facing forward her back to the mast, the others on either side of the mast.
To finish it all off, I blindfolded each and gagged them with a full harness gag custom fitted for each girl. Stepping back I admired my slaves. Each lovely in their own special way — so different, yet they shared many of the same inward traits. A degree of independence and will — enough to make the training interesting and challenging. Yet, all were seeking to embrace their inner submissive core — not just experiment, but surrender to it.
“Ladies, for the moment you are not slaves. You are in a worse position than that. You are about to become subjects of King Neptune. You will be subjected to torments, debasements, and punishments. You will be required to confess your sins and seek absolution from the mighty King. After atoning for your sins, there will be a celebration, where for a short period of time, we will all be equals. You are currently pollywogs. In a few hours, you will be Shellbacks — those that have crossed the Equator by boat. There will be no safe words, no escape.
“Now, I will be leaving the boat, since the King requires absolute power and position and no Captain or Master can share that. I am temporarily turning my boat over to him and all on board — including you. I don’t know how long it will be from when I go overboard and enjoy the comforts of the King’s home until he decides to arrive. I know each of you can handle the positions you are in for at least an hour — we’ve never tested beyond that.
“So, with that, I will take my leave. Enjoy!” A chuckle at my little joke and headed back to the stern — the starboard hull swim platform. I had already filled a 5 gallon bucket with water and had a line attached to it. Also, my clothes I would be using later were stashed there (we were a nude boat most of the time).
I tossed the bucket, so it sounded to the girls like I dove overboard. The sound was very realistic. In the still air, I know the sound carried forward, because I could see them strain in their bondage. They knew they were helpless and alone on board. I quietly sat down and waited with a good book and a bottle of water. I checked on my darlings every so often — okay, often. They slowly began struggling with the bindings. Without eyesight, without voice, without the stimulation of pain or pleasure (other then being stretched by their own weight, very slowly), I know they were loosing all track of time. The only sounds were the occasional small wave slapping on the hull or the clank of one of the rigging lines against a piece of metal.
The downside, and the beauty, of a well built fiberglass boat is they make very few sounds. This is one of those times I wish I had a wooden boat. They creak and groan and make so much noise as the normal flexing of the hull occurs that it would have been perfect for this — driving them slowly into a deeper panic. Helpless, alone. Powerless. Not sure what they were going to face. Yet, the absence of sound was in it’s own way terrible.
After about an hour, I know they would each be in pain from the stress of the positions they were in, but in no danger, I quietly dressed. I had decided that King Neptune would be represented by proxy today — not traditional, but this wasn’t traditional either. I had my storyline all ready. I dressed in a pirate outfit that none of them had seen yet. White cotton breeches with a button fly and wide leather belt. A white frill blouse open to mid-chest. A leather vest that had aged well. Knee high “swash-buckler” boots. A rakish felt hat with a long feather sweeping back from the brim. Leather gloves, pistols in the waistband (very real and working black powder from the days), a cutlass in the scabbard (again, from the period and very sharp — plus I am well trained in how to use it), and an eye patch completed the outfit. Earl Flynn should have looked so good. I’m 6′ 2″ and 220 pounds, all former defensive lineman in football and former Rugby prop — solid. Massive in many ways.
I pulled the bucket up several times, making as much noise as I could to simulate people coming on board, and walked forward — the boots making a very significant noise on the deck (and leaving a mess of scuffs that the dear ladies were going to be cleaning for days). Putting on my best pirate voice, I started chuckling as I approached my quarry.
“Argh, such a lovely sight these eyes behold. Three comely wenches, pollywogs all, and all mine!” On the way by the cockpit I had picked up my favorite flogger, a multi-stranded leather beast — quite long, quite heavy, and quite effective. Approaching the girls, I gave each a medium to hard swing across their stomachs. It was unexpected and they were unprepared for it. When I first hit Holly, she being closest, her sudden scream through the gag was enough to send shocks of fear through the other two. When Terry, who was facing forward, screamed into her gag, Andrea started going berserk in the bindings. When she received her swat, she nearly passed out.
“They call me Captain Mad Dog — I was a ruthless pirate in the Caribbean years ago — hanged and beheaded for my crimes of murder, rape, and pillaging. I’m here because you three don’t rate King Neptune — he’s much to busy with more important Pollywogs this day. A United States Navy aircraft carrier is crossing the Equator right about now, he and most of his court are handling the 500 plus Pollywogs on that mighty ship — dealing with the worthwhile. Instead, he sent me. I’m his proxy, his representative, I’m here to handle his duties and other things. If you think I’m bad, wait ’til you meet my crew!” With that I began systematically mauling each of their breasts with my leather covered hands.
While I’m not a water sports devotee, I figured a sample was called for in this moment. Plus, in their minds, it would separate me from the character I was playing. I had been drinking water all morning. My bladder was painfully over capacity. I unbuttoned a few buttons of the breeches and proceeded to hose the three down with an impressive amount of urine.
“Now that you’ve had a taste and feel of my measure, it’s time to begin. I’m going to prepare each of you for court, which is we held before the mast, so we won’t have far to go.” I had to chuckle at that, watching them squirm from the indignity of being pissed on and the sudden knowledge that they weren’t coming away from the mast anytime soon.
“First, I need to go to the stern and call your jury up from the deep — souls lost to the sea that will measure and deliver your punishments. Only I will be able to hear them, since only I have been given the power to talk to the living by King Neptune. If you listen carefully, you might hear them around you, but only I will hear their voices, their decisions, their carefully considered punishments for each of your sins — unless I choose to give them a voice to you. Oh, and trust me wenches, this is a nasty bunch! I watched as they took a young maiden, a captive. So powerfully they took her maidenhead and so often they used her ass and cunt, she bleed to death in two days. They thought the blood was lubricant.”
I made a loud show of walking aft. Once astern, I set up “the plank” and pulled out the other implements and supplies for the rest of the day. Holding two large floggers in each hand, one leather, one suede, one rubber, one more a cat-o-nine-tails with knots, I wiggled them around the deck as I walked forward — making it sound like I had a crowd of barefoot people with me. The waves had picked up a bit, not yet rocking the boat, but providing enough noise against the hull to add to the effect. The King was with me at the moment — bless him.
“Ah, me ladies, it’s time to begin. Your jury is all around you. They are watching, listening, observing every move, every facial expression. Since they are not of this world, they know how to read your very soul. If you lie, they will know it. I shall start by preparing each of you for your testimony before the Court of the Great King — he is indeed here with us in spirit. He has told me about each of you — your fears, your desires, your wants, your weaknesses. We are going to look into your souls today. You will admit and atone for your sins — otherwise you will not become Shellbacks, but will be consigned to the deep for eternity.”
I let them stew in this for a few minutes. The hardest lesson I had learned in life was simple yet sometimes impossible — you can create the situation, you can prepare and plan — yet things have to unfold at their own pace. I watched the squirming of the three carefully, measuring where each was, trying to detect what story they were living in at the moment — and how to use it to further their path — and the fun of the moment! Okay, there is a bit of sadism in me. It’s something I embrace and channel — not abuse.
“I think it’s time to begin.” Was all I said. I lowered each so they were on their toes, supporting their weight on a different set of muscles now — we could easily go another hour or two this way before causing any damage (something I am always careful to avoid). Their bodies were covered with sweat by now from the strain, the sun, and the lack of wind. Given that Holly had not fully recovered from her punishment a few days ago, she was going to go last — which psychologically was not the best place to be. Who first?
Was it Terry, who enjoyed physical torment — it seemed to be the only way she could achieve orgasm? Was it to be Andrea who still had blocks in her mind that would not allow her to move to her own goal of surrender and submission? I had worked out many different scenarios and decided in the moment to combine a couple. Denial of pleasure for Terry through no direct stimulation, but increasing pain to increase her desire. I could already see her pussy juices running down her thighs. For Andrea, it was full frontal attack time. I also decided that Holly needed a bit of a break so I lowered her so she was fully supporting herself on her feet but did lash her to the mast at the same time to enforce the notion of control. Tight enough to make sure the curve of the mast was pushed into her ass cleft.
I lowered and unhooked Andrea and took her aft. After temporarily securing her there, I went back forward. The other two knew that one of them had gone away, but not which. Amazingly, the sounds they made through their gags was so close, only a trained observer could tell them apart. I used the halyard that had been holding Andrea to lift Terry’s feet up off the deck, pulling them above her head, effectively bending her in half, since I had also bound her waist to the mast. I took a lotion that I had made up over the last few days — a variety of herbs and spices design to inflame, irritate, but not overly stimulate her sexual organs and started to spread it over her thighs and eventually working it into her dripping pussy. The final insult was pushing the neck of the bottle into her pussy and dumping half of what was remain and using the lubrication from her female sheath to allow the rest to be dumped deep into her rectum. I left the bottle partly hanging out of her ass.
“Ah, slave Terry, you understand if the bottle falls out of that ass of yours, I get to have unimaginable pleasures with your body that I’m sure you will not find at all pleasurable. Nod if you understand.” Slowly, she nodded and I could she her sphincter tighten in an attempt to hold it. Given how much lube I had put on it, there was no way she could hold it — not after all the herbs kicked in, she’d be way to busy worrying about other sensations. Did I use too much Tabasco sauce? We’ll find out!
Holly, who could hear the whimpers and moans of Terry — and understood something had happened as they began to increase in volume, frequency, and desperation. – began to twist and turn in her bindings. All I did was put some clothes pins on her breasts away from her nipple (making a nice circle) and on the inside of her thighs — something that would become numb to her in a few minutes, yet, when I pulled them all off at one time (a modified zipper, if you will) will really wake her up. I wanted her ungagged when I did that to see if she could be heard twelve thousand miles away.
As I walk back aft again, making the sounds with the floggers to let the girls know that at least part of the Jury was going to observe Andrea, they began their own torment in silence. They knew that something different was happening to each, but didn’t know what. I had only occasionally used blindfolds to withhold knowledge of the torments and punishments of the others — this was so new that it put them all into a new space. At least I hoped it had. My goal was a complete memorable experience that would last them the rest of their lives while continuing the individual training programs.
Andrea was secured on the stern railing. Bent over it, her ankles tied and spread. Her upper torso pulled down and arms splayed wide. The railing cutting into her abdomen. Her pussy and ass totally exposed. For her, the most humiliating position I could think of. When I approached her, I began the mental torment.
“Aye, me slave — I see those delicious boobies are so tucked up under there that I can’t get to them. Hmmm … Perhaps it’s time to tie them as well!” At that point, I removed her harness gag and began wrapping her tits with course, hemp rope – tight and securing them to the railings near her knees on the other side.
“Me knows that the Lady is shy and ashamed of her body — King Neptune’s world — why? That’s such a beautiful cunt and ass being presented to me right now. What should I do with it?” As much as I wanted to fuck her right then, I held off. Ass or pussy, it didn’t matter. She was partially lubricated with the earlier stimulation, but I could see that the position she was in was humiliating her and she was drying up. Best thing — some “special” lube. I had mixed this up special as well. Similar to Terry’s — just not designed to be painful but more stimulating. More natural oils, more things like ginger, almost no peppers (okay, a touch to stimulate, not create pain as Terry was feeling about now — not that Terry would think it pain — more like an itch she can’t scratch, an orgasm she can’t have — Andrea was so different in that way — so there was bit of peppermint, a touch of cinnamon, not to mention some more soothing oils and herbs) all designed to increase her sensitivity without making it painful.
Andrea loved the suede flogger on her ass, her asshole, and her pussy. I could get her extremely stimulated with it while she took a trip into subspace. Yet, I chose the rubber flogger for this session. I started with a figure-eight motion that only the tips brushed against her ass and privates. Slowly, she got into it. When her ass was pushing back in anticipation of the next caress, I let it go on for a while. When she started humping back (within the bounds of the restraints and awkward position), I reared back and gave her a full force blow up between her legs, slamming her pussy and clit, stimulating her asshole — and she came, right then and there. The longest, most powerful orgasm I’d ever seen from her. She passed out over the railing. I left her there for a moment and looked forward.
I know the other girls had heard the screams from Andrea sounds that they had never heard before — near total abandonment, near total release, pure power of approaching the perfect orgasm — all without penetration.
I retied Andrea’s wrists to her elbows behind her back and secured her in the cockpit with the gag back on and in. Again, the leather heels of the boots on the deck. The floggers creating the sound of others — I went forward. Terry was in another world. Juices literally dripping onto the deck. She was so ready for release and an orgasm, almost in pain. Instead, I threaded a string through all the clothespins on Holly with a huge knot at one end and four feet of line on the other. Okay, so I changed my plan. It’s a natural thing, seeing where each was, it was time for Holly.
“Argh, slave Holly, do you hear me?” She tried to nod her head.
“Are you ready?” She shook her head, knowing what was coming.
“On the count of three, me lass … One.” A long pause. “Two.” I ran down the deck holding the rope. Twenty-some clothespins coming with me. Even with the gag, I’m sure the people in Sydney heard her. “Three,” I said to nobody.
While she came back to the living and on this plain, I fingered her to a series of very powerful orgasms. With an incredible look of desire on her face, she joined Andrea tied in the cockpit. I slowly and quietly approached Terry. Extending my tongue, I slowly licked around her inner thighs, I spent a long time teasing her crack. Arms suspended, legs suspended, a small bottle partially in her ass, and she’s humping the universe seeking release. Somehow (where do I get this from?) I managed to not bury any of my body parts into the delicious openings in front of me. Instead, I pushed the bottle in her ass all the way, one swift movement. Her sphincter automatically closed behind it. Damn, one of us was going to have to go searchies for it now! To accommodate it, she had to reposition herself, arching her back more, straining more against the bindings, yet, she wanted it, desired more.
As much as I thought about letting her dry fuck the universe for the rest of the night, it was her turn for torment. I knew one lash of any of the floggers across her sex would produce a hellishness cum for her, I had other plans. I lowered her onto her feet, released the halyard and her feet and led her back to the stern. I attached her wrists to the wheel with a short rope which is straight on the center line. I went forward to release two halyards from the main mast, the same used to suspend them earlier. After I had enough slack, I tossed them over the lower spreader bar on the main mast — about 20 feet up. Carefully walking them back, I secured the ends to her ankles. Her feet were holding all the weight given the awkward position I had her in. Shuffling back to the mast, letting her think there were more people around her, I began to crank the halyards up. Slowly, her feet left the deck. After 5 minutes, her hands were secured to the wheel and her legs were pulled back towards the main mast and up — not to mention out, creating an interesting crucification, upside down.
Ah, my most excitable. What delicious torments can we give her now? The crop. Simple. The bottoms of her feet I could still reach. Plus, she is now hanging over the other two. I removed her gag so the world could hear her. Bottle up her ass, on a short fuse of a powerful orgasm. When the crop hit her right foot, smack on the sole, the scream made both the other girls tense and struggle. Terry almost lifted herself to the top of the mast.
“Aye, me lady, it seems that you like that. Would you like me to do that again?”
I think the sounds coming out of Terry’s mouth were words forming sentences. “I take that as a yes?” Not waiting to understand her response, the next blow fell on her other foot.
Damn, if NASA ever wants a new formula for rocket fuel — if it hadn’t been for the restraints, she would have launched herself into space.
“Ah, such a sweet thing. You did really good. Would you like to cum now?” She could barely move her head, but nodded. I took the tip of the crop and began a slow, careful tapping right between her legs, into the center of her sex. She was so wet, I knew someone was going to be cleaning the leather off tonight. The tension of the position forgotten, the pain in her feet gone to her mind, she started rocking and thrusting her hips. Slowly at first, them building. Getting back to where she was. I teased her, knowing that this would not get her off, until the sensation became her entire being. I pulled the crop away and held still. She begins to moan, beg, plead, thrusting her hips for satisfaction. I begin to tap again, lighter, slower. She rebuilds and tries even harder to reach her release. I repeat over and over for 10-15 minutes. She is screaming at the top of her lungs for release, her back is arched up to the sky, she is slamming around in her awkward position — straining for release. Her words are incoherent, her sounds of frustration filling our ears. I wonder what the others thought.
In pattern, I stopped the teasing with the crop and got the long, suede flogger. It was heavy. Using both arms, I swung it from the floor, around and over my head, and straight into her cunt and asshole. She would have made it to Mars if the ropes had parted at the point. Mouth wide open, body tensed beyond capacity, yet not a sound was heard, until the second full force blow. I knew that everyone in Indonesia could hear it and it probably made more than one of them cum on the spot. I know I did, which surprised hell out of me. Her sounds were pure lust and release. I looked at the others, they were getting off on Terry’s climax.
When she finally came back to Earth, I carefully lowered her to the deck, bound her hands behind her back, and she joined the others — re-gagged.
“Argh, Me Ladies, as much fun as that was, it’s time to get serious. You must be prepared for your trials before me, to answer for your sins so you may receive my absolution, and by way of that, the absolution of King Neptune!” Around the mast there were three ventilation horns with railings to protect them from accidental damage. There was one stainless steel railing that come up from the deck on the right, well over the top of the scoop, then arched back down to the deck on the port side. Then another that came up from the bow and joined the arch at the top. They made the perfect binding platform, knees on the deck, facing forward, backs arched over the center bar, heads behind the cross bars and pulled down, hands tied to the base of the cross bar. This left them spread, with a cold bar running through their ass cracks, tits pulled high, and totally defenseless.
“To show the filth of all your sins, I’ve prepared a bit of a reminder. It’s blood of a thousands sailors, parts of the decayed bodies, the shit from whales, there might be the tooth of a shark or two in there — I put it together so quickly I forget.” With that, I pull out a three buckets of slop. Made from salt water, honey, molasses, raw eggs, and others food products that had been “on the edge” I had been saving for a few days. I started at the neck of each of my pretty slaves and dribbled the mess down their entire fronts, coating them in a layer of sticky slim and chunks of near rotten food.
“Now, you need some time to ponder your sins. With that, me lovelies, I’m going to leave my crew here to watch all that slop dry to your bodies, while I enjoy the hospitality of this fine vessel. Think hard, for when I ask you to list your sins, you had better be complete, accurate, and honest. I will know if you are not.” With that, I made my departure obvious, but without the flogger sounds of my crew. I went back to the cockpit, checked the boat over, our position, and the status of the boat. With refreshment in hand and food nearby, I updated to written log and the on-line log, including some delicious shots from the various digital cameras around the boat. For some reason, I had thousands of people willing to pay me $4.95 a month for the privilege of a voyeurs view into our life.
All that took about an hour, enough time in the current position. I knew the late afternoon sun wasn’t enough to burn them, since they were already well tanned, but quite enough to cook the slim onto their bodies. By now, they’ve got be be feeling like shit. Just where I wanted them to be for the next phase. I shifted the deck wash-down pump to salt water, turned it on, and pulled the hose forward.
“Ah, My Sweet Things, it is time to confess your sins. I am going to un-gag you one at a time. You will tell me your sins — don’t make me ask — I don’t think you want to feel the cat-o-nine tails on the delicious skin of yours. I have it’s cousin with me, as well as the punishment cat. The only difference between the two is the cousin has metal barbs in the knots. So as to not have to permanently mark you, but let you feel what it will be like, I’m going to deliver on lash to each of you from the easy one.” I had modified one of my old floggers. It had leather straps, fairly thin but long. I had knotted the ends of nine strands and cut the others off. Choosing at random, I selected Holly to be first.
Without warning, I laid a full force blow in the center of her stretched stomach. Not waiting, I moved to Terry next, then Andrea. That was probably the most cruel thing I have ever done to them. I needed them to be in the right frame of mind and I would more than make up for it later. Imagine a steel bar running up your spin, you stretched into a curve — backwards. Covered in slop that had dried to your skin, pulling it tight. Each girl reacted in almost the same way — trying to spit the gag out of their mouths, but thankful it was there or they would have broken all their teeth. Nine deep lines of welts on their stomachs that would be there for days. Terry’s had caught at an angle that caused a little bit of bleeding from two of the ends. Damn — I had never marked them that bad before.
“When I remove your gag, that’s when you start confessing. For every sin, I will wash some of the slop off. When you are done, you will be unbound, yet still have your feet tied to hear the confessions of the rest. At the end, punishment will be delivered. Then absolution given. If you’re good, there will be a celebration.” I had waited until they were all back in the living and my nerves settled. The markings still bothered me. I needed to rethink that cat for next time! Yet, it seemed to have worked. When I took the gag off of each (and whispered from them to drink some water first before talking) they launched into full, complete confessions of every transgression they had ever engaged in.
I was truly thankful I had the recorders going to capture it all. As promised, I used the wash-down hose to clean them a bit at a time. I had the pressure high enough to let them feel it, yet not enough to hurt — I was careful to adjust it over their tits and pussies to make it more stimulating that painful. When each was finished their litany, I unbound them from the hogtie and left their ankles secured. In one hand, I placed a liter bottle of cold water. When the last was done, I moved them to the stern one at a time, bent over, facing the water, their asses perfectly positioned for a paddling.
After all three asses were sticking high into the air — oh, such a sight — a quietly prepared the “plank” for each to walk at the end. At this point, I had removed my boots and was barefoot. I was “giving orders” to my assistant, a chap by the name of One-Eye. He drooled, a lot. Enough to drip on each of the girls as he performed his duties under my watchful eyes.
“Slave Terry — you are to receive 10 strokes of the paddle. Slave Andrea — 12 strokes. Slave Holly — such a bad girl, 15. You will count each stroke. If you miss count, we start over.” With that, One-Eye removed each of the gags, getting plenty of drool (aided by water thickened with sugar) on their backs, necks, arms…
“One-Eye, you’ve done well. But not well enough to do the paddling.” I was sick of the taste of the sugar water in my mouth — note to self: not so much sugar next time. “I award this job to the biggest and strongest of my crew, the mountain of a man, Little John. If you feel like it, while you’re paddling, take any of those six openings. Now begin with Slave Terry.” I walked in a Sumo-style over to Terry, shaking the deck as I walked. I had an old fashioned English School paddle. Long, a decent striking area, but not wide enough to create too much wind resistance as it swung through the air.
“Aye, Me Cap’n. It’d be my delight.” I said shifting to a deep voice I don’t think any of the girls had heard me use before.
To add to each girl’s torment, before I began the paddling, I rammed two fingers into their pussy, stroked hard a few times, then shoved a single digit into their ass. The first blow came without warning. Each was able to count it, after a second or two. Terry faltered at three and we had to start over. Andrea at 4. Holly, who was last, didn’t falter at all. At the end, three crying, sobbing, repentant slaves with purple asses hung over the stern rail. God, I was hard as a rock. Yet, one last task.
I pulled my boots back on, went and unbound Terry, since she had been first with the paddling. “Now, it’s time to walk the plank and join King Neptune’s world.” She started screaming, pleading, even struggling. With the physical torments she had suffered, it didn’t take much to keep her in my control. Suddenly, she could feel the boarding bridge under her feet. She ceased her struggling, some, as I walked her out the plank from behind. She could feel the bounce as we moved out and knew she was over water, not boat. About half way out, I unbound her hands, giving her time to get some circulation back in them. At the end, I turned her to face me, removed her blindfold and gave her eyes time to adjust. When I could see her focus on me and realize it was me, I gave her a big kiss. Right when she relaxed, at the point where I knew I had her trust, I pushed her into the water.
Making sure she could get her bearings and recover, I watched her swim over to the swim platform at the stern of the hull. I indicated I wanted her to be quiet. She was happy to relax in the warm water and nodded.
I repeated the process with Andrea and Holly. I will forever remember the looks on their eyes when they finally adjusted, recognized me and granted me their total trust.
After retrieving them from the water, I welcomed them on board as equals — all Shellbacks. I set aside all rules of discipline for the night and treated each as a perfect Lady. The debauch went on until well after midnight, throwing off all the boats routines. I even served them dinner and drinks. I love to cook and they love my cooking, so it wasn’t so much a break from routines, except I allowed them to do nothing other than enjoy the repast and each other. It was both Holly and Andrea that retrieved the bottle from Terry’s asshole. Damn, that was a show that after my fourth orgasm of the evening made me hard again. Terry insisted that I fuck her ass. It was only possible with Andrea’s and Holly’s help — some where inside, I managed to generate some more fluids to pump up the rectum of this sweet girl.
At the end of the evening, they tucked me into bed with Holly. Andrea and Terry took turns and got us back on course and found some good wind. When I woke 6 hours later, I can only describe it as the best way in the world to wake up — Holly had my cock all the way down her throat, humming. Andrea was licking my balls and ass. Holly’s pussy was right in front of my face, how could I refuse? God, I love the taste of pussy. I savored the moment and feasted. Once I came, we all knew that the party was over. Without saying a thing, they cleaned me up, Holly went up to relieve Terry. Andrea fixed me breakfast and then went out to clean the decks.
I was so worried that the orgy would break discipline. Yet, it just seemed to strengthen it. After filling myself on a sausage and cheese omelet and the last of the fresh fruit on board, I checked the watch list for today. I noticed that they had changed it. I now had the day off. I walked around the boat and deeply kissed each lady, more intimate than we’d ever shared — there was a tremendous amount of love and trust in each kiss — both ways. By the time I got back to the cockpit after kissing Andrea, Holly had already placed a bottle of water by my favorite seat and the book I was currently reading. The stereo was playing some E. Power Biggs, my favorites of the Bach organ works — Toccata and Fugue in D minor.
I settled in, opened my book, let the music and love around me wrap me in a good place. In the back of my mind, I began to consider all the possibilities that the islands of the South Pacific would offer me to work with these amazing women! I now knew that after this experience, I had to grow and expand to help them grow and expand. The words of Charles Dickens washed over me as the power of Bach consumed me. And my mind opened to a new world.