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Chapter 3: Bound for Adventure
The next morning April roused me, “Come on, we’re going to mutiny. You’re supposed to take on the Skipper. Let’s go.”
“Oh, sorry. Why didn’t you guys wake me earlier? Can you give me a few minutes?”
Ivy, who had already groomed herself to her usual immaculate state, said, “You look fine. Let’s go.” April opened the door, and both of them headed out.
Quickly putting on my shoes, I followed them out, combing my hair out as best I could as
I went.
After taking a detour to use the bathroom, I arrived on deck. James had his arm around April, and they were conversing quietly, looking out to sea. This was the first time I had seen April allow James to touch her since he had whipped her.
Ivy and Rafiq were conversing. I felt a wave of anxiety and jealousy, but I let it pass as quickly as it arose. Rafiq gave me an acknowledging glance and a faint smile while continuing to listen politely to Ivy. I had nothing to fear.
The Skipper hailed me. “Ho, Jenny. You’re looking bright and lively today.”
“Good morning, sir,” I replied. I glanced again at April and Ivy. It was obvious that this mutiny thing was merely a passing fantasy that none of us really expected to pull off.
Nevertheless, I did take note that were it not just a fantasy, the Skipper was standing obliquely to me such that it would be rather difficult to kick him in the balls. But it struck me as a unique way to gage my physical relation to another person – whether I was in a position to kick them in the crotch. My new-found perspective tickled me.
Then my mind turned to wondering what kind of whipping the Skipper would give me if I tried successfully or unsuccessfully to kick him such. Would he hang me upside down, legs spread wide, and flog my pussy? I certainly did not want to find out.
“You always look so pert after a good whipping,” he continued. “You do seem to take naturally to them.”
There he was on this thing about me being good to whip. How was I going to counter this notion? “Please sir, they are not natural to me. I don’t want to be whipped.”
“Hey, whatever. But how about getting yourself down to the galley and making us some toast and eggs. We didn’t get much dinner last night, you know.”
Up to now everyone had been on their own for breakfast. But considering the dinner situation last night (or lack thereof), I thought it best to heed the request. I headed down to the galley and began preparing breakfast.
After a couple minutes, the Skipper joined me. He said, “I’m a little concerned about that caning Ivy gave you yesterday. And the way she lit into your titties with the switch. I think we should have a look. Make sure they are all right.”
I was appalled. Surely he didn’t think he had the authority to make me show myself whenever he wanted to look at my breasts. Instinctively I brought my hands together on my chest, my forearms over my breasts. “Really they’re okay. And there’s not much you could do even if they weren’t. ...And it’s not right for you to try to look at my body on such a pretext.”
“Oh my. Little Miss Modesty. What’s the big deal? I’ve already seen your tits, haven’t I? ...Anyway, in addition to being the captain of this vessel, I’m also the chief medical officer. It’s my responsibility to assure the health of the crew. So bring your hands down to your sides.”
I wasn’t going to buy his chief medical officer blather. Defiant, I crossed my arms over my chest. Even so, he began lifting the bottom of my tee-shirt. Having exposed my midriff, he paused and said, “You know, you’ve got a cute belly button.”
I frowned. “Is this the way a chief medical officer talks?”
“Well, perhaps I’m forgetting myself. ...It’s just that when a girl has such an exceptional body, I can’t help wondering whether she appreciates what she has.”
I pondered that. Certainly I don’t think of myself as having an exceptional body. I like it that I’m trim. But I’m understated relative to classic female attributes.
He tugged my shirt up my ribs. I kept my arms folded tightly across my chest to impede further upward movement.
“Stop being childishly modest, and put your hands behind your head,” he ordered.
I pouted at him defiantly.
“I’m ordering you to put your hands behind your head.” He picked up the plastic spatula. “Do you hear me?” When I did not respond, he swatted me a couple times on the side of the thigh with it. I winced but held my ground.
With vigor he swatted me several more times on the thigh and then said, “I can see that a spatula on the legs or bottom is not going to phase the likes of you. Then I’ll spank your breasts with it till you learn to obey my rightful orders.”
As he raised the spatula before my breasts, I kept my arms crossed to protect myself. But when he grabbed hold of my wrist, I knew this was getting out of hand. “All right. All right. I’ll do what you say. But could I ask you to put down the spatula first? ...Please.”
As he eyed me, I gave him my most supplicating expression... It worked. He put down the spatula.
I raised my arms, placing my hands behind my head, and he proceeded to lift my shirt, exposing my breasts. I felt humiliated and vulnerable. I kept my eyes down.
He stood gazing at my breasts. Then he touched me, passing his fingers over the marks left by the switch. I looked down. My nipples were stiff. He bumped his fingers over them repeatedly. Then he took them between his fingers and slowly squeezed, gradually increasing pressure.
“Ow. Please. They’re still really sensitive. You know where Ivy was hitting me.”
He eased up. “Yes. Such good nipples. Such good tits... But that switch isn’t really the right implement for whipping a pretty girl’s titties on a regular basis. We may have to wait a little before we whip you some more. It’s a pity, isn’t it?”
“Oh please no. I haven’t done anything. Why do you have to whip me?”
“Oh. It has nothing much to do with anything you’ve done. So don’t fret about it. It has to do with you yourself.”
“Why do you keep saying that? I don’t want to be whipped any more than anyone else. And why do you have to do it on the breasts? I’m the least busty female on the boat.”
“You’d rather that April or Ivy got whipped instead?”
“No. I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just...”
“It’s just that you don’t appreciate how good your tits are. The apogee of impeccable nipples... that’s you. Those puffy nipples sticking out there just begging for the whip.” Now he was massaging my breasts.
“They’re not begging for the whip. And there’s nothing that unusual about my body. ...And there’s nothing I can do about how it is anyway.”
When he started kneading my breasts with even more vigor, I brought my arms down tightly across my chest, arresting his action. He took his hands away and stepped back.
“My examination indicates no injury,” he said, reverting to his chief medical officer pretense. “Your breasts should feel better by evening.” With that he turned and left the galley.
**********
It was late afternoon before I finally had an opportunity to talk to April alone in the cabin – about my issue with the Skipper, of course.
“April, I have to tell you some stuff the Skipper’s been saying to me. The first time was after James whipped you.” I went on to tell her the whole story about the Skipper approaching me in galley, concerned about what James had done. “He said to me ‘Jenny, there’s a certain kind of girl you can whip. And a certain kind of girl you can’t. You gotta be able to recognize the difference. The right kind of girl, when you whip her, she’ll be the best damn girl ever.’”
In the middle of my story Ivy came in. Initially that made me uptight, but she listened attentively and her expression was sympathetic, so I realized that there was no reason why she should not hear about my concerns.
I continued by telling of the morning’s encounter in the galley, when the Skipper made me let him examine my breasts and feel me up.
“You let him feel you up?” asked April.
“Well... yeah. I didn’t think I had a choice.”
“I’d give him a slap.”
“I don’t think I can do that. He’d give me another whipping. He’s already said he’s looking forward to the next opportunity to whip me. The problem is, I don’t think there’s anything I can do to avoid it.”
“Oh,” said April. She was silent for moment, thinking. Then she said, “Don’t take this the wrong way when I say this, but I guess I’m wondering why you’re so concerned about being whipped. You’ve been punished that way before this voyage and I thought you sort of got off on it.”
“Hey. That’s not really fair,” I replied. I glanced at Ivy, wondering if she would think I was really weird. But her expression of sympathy and concern was unchanged. I continued, “I had never been flayed so bad on the breasts before this, and I hope never again.”
“Yeah, but I did that to you. It wasn’t the Skipper,” said Ivy. “And I’m sorry about that, but you know how I felt about you at the time. But do you think he’s going to give you another switching on your breasts?”
“No, he implied that wasn’t the right thing to use.”
“Well, you know,” said Ivy. “He told me that the cat-o-nine-tails he used on you was new and he had never used it before. He didn’t realize how bad it was. It’s those knots in it that hurt so much.”
“So what are you trying to say? That I should accept that I’m going to be whipped again, and hope he doesn’t use something too nasty?”
“Well if the pain was bearable, would you mind being whipped?” asked April.
“What do you mean ‘bearable’? It still hurts. ...And what about the humiliation of being stripped and physically chastised in front of a bunch of people.”
“Do you have a problem with that?” asked April.
“What kind of question is that? Of course I have a problem with it.” I frowned at April. “You know, I was feeling okay about myself until I started talking to you guys about this. Now you’re making me out to be some kind of weird... something.”
“Oh Jenny. Don’t take it that way.” April gave me a hug. “I’m not making any judgments. I admire your strength.”
Ivy said, “Jenny, have you noticed what a cheery mood you’re in after you get a whipping.”
“I am?” That took me by surprise. But the Skipper had said something like that to me too. Could it be true?
“Well, I don’t know, but it seems like you started getting along better with the Skipper after he started giving you whippings.”
“Oh. ...But still, it’s just not true that I like being whipped. That’s crazy. Why would I have even brought this up if I were happy being punished?”
“Well,” said April. “Is your issue that you don’t want to be singled out as being ‘the right kind of girl to whip,’ as you put it? Or is it that you really don’t want to be whipped?”
“Both.”
“Well, how did you feel when both of us were to be whipped together?” asked Ivy.
“Well, that was different. I was just happy you were going to get whipped – of course I don’t feel that way about you now. But I was worried that I might not stand up to it as well as you.”
“Pffff! Fat chance of that,” interjected April.
“Listen, I don’t know where you’re going with this. But I don’t like being made to take my clothes off in front of everybody. And I don’t like getting corporal punishment in front of everybody. And nothing either of you can say is going to change that.”
“Well,” said April, “what if you’re strung up naked in front of your Rafiq, and whipped, and all the while you’re so beautiful he can’t take his eyes off you. And after they let you down he comforts you and nurses your welts. How would you feel about that?”
“Well... That’s sort of different.”
“Hey, let’s check on what Rafiq is up to,” said Ivy. She stepped out of our compartment, then returned. “He’s in their compartment, reading. You want to go to him ...helpless and vulnerable, right? Here, we’ll tie your hands behind you.” She was laughing.
“No, don’t.... Let me go,” I said, giggling as she took hold of my wrist. Getting up, I put up token resistance, all in good fun, while they bound my wrists behind me with a pair of Ivy’s pantyhose.
“There. Now how about if we gag you?” asked Ivy.
“Please no. I’m at your mercy.” Still I was giggling as she wrapped a neckerchief across my mouth. I was tantalized by the prospect of being sent out to Rafiq this way.
Ivy then untied the back of my halter top, saying, “You won’t be needing this, I don’t think.”
Trying to resist as she pulled it off me, I said, “No, don’t. Somebody might see me,” muffled and lisping through the gag. Of course, by ‘somebody’ I meant the Skipper or James.
“There’s nobody on board who hasn’t seen you before, and more compromised than this,” replied Ivy, smiling as she eyed my naked top. “Nice perky tits.” She stroked my nipples. “But you need something more. A little something I borrowed from the Skipper.” She turned and began probing through her luggage. Meanwhile, standing behind me, April was caressing my shoulders.
Finding what she wanted, Ivy then turned to me again. She was holding a couple of little metal clips, like toy clothes pins, connected together by a slender chain. I thought uh-oh; I knew I was going to get pinched but I wasn’t sure where.
She eyed me for several moments, grinning slyly. “We know how modest you are. You can wear these to cover yourself just a little.” She was looking at my breasts.
“Nooo...” I shook by head vigorously. As I squirmed unsuccessfully to avoid her advance, she took hold of my left breast and put the clip to the nipple. She was going to get me where I was most sensitive. As she released her grip, it clamped hard onto the nub of my nipple. I gasped. The sensation was electric. As I stood paralyzed by the nipple pinch, she applied the other one to my right nipple. I gasped anew. Despite the overwhelming sensation, I was still aware that April from behind was kissing my ear.
“Okay,” said Ivy. “Let’s send you on your way.” With April hugging me affectionately from behind, I stood before Ivy, half naked, bound, gagged, and nipple clipped.
“You look pretty good,” she said. But those shorts have got to go. She started to yank them down, together with my undies.
“No!” I cried, muffled through the gag. I resisted strongly, pressing April backward against the wall. But Ivy took hold of the clips on my nipples and shook vigorously. The agony forced me to yield immediately. I let her strip me completely.
“One last thing,” said Ivy. She turned to her berth. From under her pillow she pulled out that horrid wooden dildo. “Now spread your legs.”
“No, no, no!” I shook my head vigorously, pressing April backward again.
Ivy eyed my clipped nipples. “Do I need to apply persuasion again?” she asked.
I knew I had to acquiesce. I closed my eyes and tried to relax. As April, behind me, continued hugging and caressing me, Ivy probed the dildo to my pussy, pressing it in. It hurt. “Too dry,” I gasped through the gag. But she continued forcing it, like a rasp, all the way in.
Ivy then opened the door and April pushed me out, whispering, “You’ll knock ’m dead.” On the way out Ivy gave me a couple hard slaps on the rear.
No doubt Rafiq had heard the sound of those slaps, for he was looking up expectantly when I appeared in the men’s compartment. Awkwardly I made my way to his berth as he rose to my aid. It was so humiliating to have that long dildo sticking out of me.
What was really bad is that the Skipper was taking a snooze in there. I had to walk right past him, praying that he would not awaken. At his side I noticed there was a paperback book titled “The Cheerleader’s Initiation”. The cover had an illustration of a busty girl, spreadeagle suspended between goal posts, the football team lined up to fuck her, and coach behind, paddling her. How gross.
“Help,” I tried to whisper through my gag.
“A damsel in distress. How fetching,” Rafiq whispered, smiling. “Problems among the girls again? From the sound of all that giggling a few minutes ago, I thought you were having a good time.”
He stood staring at my nipples. The clips were sticking straight out. Amused, he bobbed them up and down. “Don’t. Don’t. Don’t,” I whispered, desperately shaking my head. “Hurts!”
“Would you like me to ungag you? It’s hard to understand you.”
I nodded vigorously. Rafiq then slowly drew his attention away from my tormented breasts and slipped his fingers under the gag. For some time he just caressed my cheeks. Finally he slipped the gag out of my mouth and let it drop to my neck.
“Untie my hands. Or get these clamps off me. They’re killing me. I got to get them off.”
But he only responded by kissing my lips. I realized that if Rafiq was going to rescue me, as I knew he ultimately would, it would be a slow and sensual process. I also realized that much as I wanted those clips off, I could bear them on my nipples – and would have to bear them – until such time that he freed me.
Our lips pressed together, he pulled me into an embrace. The clips jabbed into my breasts as we pressed together. I gasped with pain.
It was a collision of opposing sensations. The tender warmth of his embrace coupled with biting torment of those metal clips simultaneously pinching and jabbing into my nipples.
Holding me close with his left arm wrapped around my back, he caressed the side of my breast with his right hand. Then he squeezed his thumb in between our bodies and pressed it into my nipple, aggravating the bite of the clip. I gasped momentarily but returned my lips to his.
As he continued tormenting my nipple, I became aware of the pressure of his erect penis through his shorts, against my hip. Why do guys get so much pleasure from my pain?
Finally he released his embrace. Still, however, I continued pressing against him, my nether region to his thigh.
Rafiq placed his hands on my shoulders, and pressed down. “On your knees.”
I dropped to my knees. He pulled out his penis, a big boner. He expected me to give him a blow job. But I felt so compromised doing so in this situation.
Nevertheless, I acquiesced. From my kneeling position, I brought myself lower, resting my weight on my left calf and heel, my right knee off the floor, trying to maintain clearance for the external end of the double-ended, half-meter long dildo. Still it pressed onto the floor, forcing itself deep into me. I took his penis in my mouth, licking and sucking.
What I was doing seemed to be satisfactory to him. At least he didn’t try to ram it down my throat. But he did take hold of the chain holding my nipple clips and give a tug. I sucked more vigorously. If only I could release his sexual energy, I was sure he would release me from this torment.
I could hear the Skipper stirring quietly behind me. I hoped he had not awakened. No such luck. The next thing I knew, his fingers were stroking over my clit. I squirmed.
“Stay down.” murmured Rafiq, wrenching my clipped nipples. I let out a gasp of pain, but immediately resumed sucking as vigorously as I could.
Skipper, sitting in a position similar to my own, pressed his body against mine, his arms around the front of me in a tight embrace. With one hand he fingered my clit, with the other he kneaded the softness of my breasts. I could feel his stiff penis pressing against me, locked between our bodies. He was rubbing against me rhythmically.
As this continued interminably, my feelings alternated between being aroused and being freaked out that two guys were doing this to me. The next thing I knew, Rafiq’s penis was palpitating, squirting cum into my mouth. A few moments later, Skipper came off, his warm cum launched onto my back as he pressed orgasmically against me.
This whole experience was beyond freaky. The sliminess of Rafiq’s cum in my mouth, my lips still rapped around his penis. A dirty old man rubbing himself against my rear. And me, bound helpless, completely under their power. Those beastly metal clips biting into my nipples, the torment exacerbated by Rafiq’s continual jerking on the chain. That long loathsome dildo rammed into my cunt, its far end pressed onto the floor, such that it transposed all of my movements into its own motion inside me. And the Skipper’s fingers incessantly stimulating my clit, making me quiver, further heightening the motions of the dildo.
I hadn’t even recognized that it was nearing when I was overtaken by orgasm, staggering in intensity. I pressed myself against Rafiq’s leg, hard, hard, hard. Holding my breath, I closed my eyes, deliriously plunging into the depths of rhapsodic ecstasy.
Lost in rapture, I was swept away by the tide of euphoria. Sensual gratification, supreme. Immersed in a sea of pleasure, time and space vanished; the boundaries between our bodies dissolved.
How long this went on, who knows, but as this blissful state gradually subsided, the biting pain in my nipples began to return. “Please release my nipples. Please, Rafiq. It’s hurting me.”
“Ah, yes. Your nipples.” Dropping to his knees he ran his fingers around them. “Such fine nipples. Why do we get such pleasure out of tormenting them?”
“Please, Rafiq.” A teardrop ran down my cheek and fell on his hand. He licked the tear off his hand like it was some precious elixir, then took hold of the clips and slowly released the pressure. I panted as the biting intensity was replaced by a throbbing pain, slow to subside.
The Skipper unbound my wrists, repeatedly muttering, “One hell of a girl. You’re one hell of a girl.”
Thus released I crawled onto Rafiq’s berth and slowly removed that dildo. I felt embarrassed to have Rafiq and especially the Skipper standing there watching me do it.
“I’ll take that thing now,” said the Skipper when the end finally slipped out. “And what about those nipple clips. They look like ones that belong to me. How did they end up on you?”
“Ivy put them on me. She said she borrowed them from you.”
“Borrowed them from me? Is that so. How would she even know I had them? ...I think I’m going have some words with her ...when I’m in the mood.”
I turned away from them and covered myself with the sheet. Rafiq then lay down beside me, and hugged me. And the Skipper continued sitting there beside the bed, lightly stroking my calf.
*********
Later in the day, as I reflected on what had happened, I was troubled. Alone on deck with Rafiq late that night, I confronted him about it.
“I don’t feel that good about what happened this afternoon. That was... gross. The two of you teaming up on me that way. It made me feel like... so trashy. That big dildo stuck in me. And the two of you coming off on me.”
“Well, we didn’t stick the dildo in you. You women did that yourselves. And you were the one that sought me out, all naked and tied up.”
“Well... Rafiq. I’m trying to talk to you about how I feel. So instead of talking about how I feel, you’re all fucking defensive about it. And trying to make me feel even shittier.”
“I’m trying to make you feel shitty? And you’re trying to make me feel good? The first thing you said was that Skipper and I had ‘teamed up’ on you. You made sound like we gang raped you.”
“Well...” I pondered that for several moments. “I’m sorry. It’s not about what you did. It’s about what I did... what I let happen.”
Rafiq was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Sorry I got defensive. ...Don’t blame yourself about this thing. You were wonderful. It was my fault for letting things get out of hand. I should have untied you right away. ...But I just couldn’t. You looked so good. So irresistible. And I thought that you were into it too. You did end up coming off, didn’t you?”
“Well, yeah. And that’s a lot of what I feel so uncomfortable about. I just feel so... uh... like I’m a... oh, I don’t know.” I was unwilling to use the term pain slut. “What I did seemed so... inappropriate... I know that’s a really dumb word.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. It was me. I have this, like, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde thing. I get this charge out of you being a damsel in distress. But it doesn’t fit any other facet of my nature. I don’t ordinarily go around trying to cause pain. It’s just this sexual thing. Once the sexual energy is blown out, I revert to being a normal person again.”
“Well, yeah, but that’s okay because I’m the opposite number. I like offering myself up to you,” I said. But of course I didn’t tell him that I like having the power to transform him from the well-mannered Dr. Jekyll into the animalistic Mr. Hyde.
Instead I said, “But I’m having trouble reconciling that I submit to all the other stuff that’s been going on around here. It seems so demeaning.”
“Are you crazy? Your receptiveness to adversity puts you at the pinnacle. Everybody thinks you’re awesome.”
“Oh god, do I have to hear more of this,” I murmured. But I gave Rafiq a little smile. “Next thing I know, you’re going to be the one plying the whip on me.”
“Yeah. Sounds good, doesn’t it?”
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