"Why bother with girls like me and Terry?"
"Because you are at least girls. Those horny little minxes are just one big sopping wet cunt. Their holes are so damn dig they are not even a good piece of tail!!" Mike grinned at a private thought. "Sure be a treat to watch you whip their little arses. Wouldn’t bother my conscience none."
Dorinda felt guilty at an exciting prospect. How did these things creep up on a girl? A delectable vision of rows and rows of naked moppets, and herself with a lovely limber cane, rose before her eyes. "All right," she agreed. "Let Terry go and I’ll do it."
Mike sighed. "Bend over the chair, honey. Good place as any. I warned you…"
Dorinda sighed too. He had warned her. She had asked for it. Dutifully, but not happily, she draped herself over the furniture.
"Six if you behave. Twelve if you don’t." From somewhere he had produced a quite frightening cane.
It taxed all of her fortitude to take the six cuts. She deliberately gave him the expected vocals and the sensual motions. The end result was to be expected. She serviced him to the best of her ability in that capacity too. She felt inordinately proud of his response.
"You are quite something, honey." He sat back in his chair, studying her as she shook her hair back in place and resumed her seat and attentive mien. It was obvious that her bottom hurt. "You get me riled on purpose."
"No! Oh, honestly I didn’t! I don’t know why we girls have to be the way we are. To see what we can get away with I suppose. I can almost agree, we have to be whipped to keep us in line. Under the circumstances I think I should say thank you."
"Maybe you like it?"
"No I don’t. I could have curled up and howled."
"The little trick you’re in love with: she loves it."
How did he know? Mabel of course. "Yes, she gets a sensual thrill out of having her bottom caned. Perhaps even what you just gave me. Beyond that, she suffers like the rest of us."
"So the day on the deck with the boys having a slash at her won’t deliver her horny to my bed?"
"Probably the reverse. The poor kid will be exhausted. You sure have some quaint ideas."
"Want to bend over the chair again?"
"I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I don’t like being whipped. But if we are to get anywhere together I have to be able to talk." She gave him a wry grin. "Maybe I won’t pick up more than a dozen strokes a day."
"There was a question before the house, honey?"
"I’d love to, Mike. But please! Take Terry off the hook. Let her be my helper. Don’t make either of us receptacles for your crew’s sperm."
"Bend over the chair, honey."
Dorinda obeyed mutely. Implacable Mike. He gave her three brutal cuts. She gave him all the expressions of her distress. She wept. It was all hopeless.
"Never asked you up here in the first place," he said testily. "Go and tell your little honeypot about her wonderful future."
His name was Cuthbert. They called him Cuth. He was too young, too pimply and minus a chin. Terry was quite sure he must practise self abuse and eat the wrong food.
He look at her with lust.
"You are very pretty."
"Thank you." She almost added ‘kind Sir’.
"I’d like to fuck you. But you belong to the captain."
"So I understand."
He examined her with interest. "I’ve never seen a girl’s cunt before. Just fancy, all heart shaped."
"That’s the hair."
"Lots of stories about them things."
"I’m sure there are."
"That true that they reach out and grab a chap’s cock?"
"Mine doesn’t. Haven’t you ever been inside?"
"You mean had a piece of tail? Can’t say I have."
Terry now felt certain about the self abuse. "Aren’t you going to sample the girl on call today?"
"Oh, I think I might all right. But I don’t like to."
"You don’t have to ask. Just do it." Terry felt guilty but safe.
He wrinkled his nose. "Something inside there that… you know."
"No, I don’t know."
"Well, takes hold of a feller. Heard tell of a chap couldn’t pull it out."
"Are you this cautious in everything?"
"No sense looking for trouble." Cuth sounded hurt. "Maybe I should whip you."
"Dare you take the risk?"
"I think you are pulling my leg. Anyway, I’ve never whipped a girl."
"Aren’t you afraid of catching something?"
Her whipped her twice. Very hard, as though to assert the manhood she doubted. He watched her tug against the cords and heard her gasp. "I got a great big hard on," he said, surprised.
"I’m sure there will be a knot hole around somewhere," suggested Terry helpfully.
Cuth went away, walking awkwardly.
Dorinda was not sure whether she found the sight of land reassuring or ominous. She felt better than the day before. She had slept holding a sobbing girl within the haven of her arms. Make had not retained his perquisite beyond evening. The collars round their necks had a familiar feel. Thus all things become comparative. ‘The Quest’ had travelled far to bring them to a new day.
There was a stir of tension. Something had happened in the night. Taken to Mike’s office the two girls were not left in doubt. Mike was displeased.
"You were right, honey," he conceded grimly. Then, looking at Terry: "That brother of yours has been raising Cain."
Dorinda’s heart leaped. Mike noted the sudden radiance that lit the face of his audience.
"Don’t get them little twats twitching too soon," he added sourly. "I’m not taking any chances. I’m dumping you but I ain’t taking you back to Kyrexos and I’m damned if I’ll put you ashore at a port. That leaves two choices: a weight tied to your ankles and toss you overboard, or put you ashore where no one will notice."
He laughed at their dismay. "You think I just might use that bit of lead. I ought to, but I won’t." He chuckled as at some secret knowledge. "Could be you’ll come to wish I had…"
He was interrupted by the arrival of Cuth with a slip of paper. The youth eyed the girls hungrily and departed. Mike scanned the missive before turning his attention back to his captives. "Radio," he explained tersely. "We ain’t out of touch. That’s how I know about the hunt that’s on for you."
"But you can’t hide this boat forever," Dorinda said puzzled.
"Honey, I don’t have to. Nobody saw you get on and nobody saw you get off. Suspicious, sure. But no proof."
"And you think we’ll just keep quiet about all you’ve done -" Terry bit her lip. Dorinda watched Mike’s slow smile agonizedly. "Sugarpot, you can talk all you want. If you can get someone to listen." Again the knowing chuckle as at things unseen.
Dorinda’s hope dissolved into awful premonition.
It was neat and functional. Absurd, but cruelly explicit.
"Promised you a surprise at the end," Mike said.
Dorinda stared at him in disbelief. "You wouldn’t…"
"Sure I would, sugar. Plenty of precedents."
"But like this!" His captive twisted her shoulders and tugged at the prisoned wrists behind her back.
She could not take her eyes from it. Terry – too – stared in shocked fascination. A simple plank! It jutted far out over and beyond the deck to which it was secured.
"All the best captains used it," Mike jibed. "A girl said ‘non, she got to walk the plank."
"But we haven’t said ‘non’. We did our best yesterday!"
"Right you are, honey. So you get to wear this nice little decoration."
Mike tightly knotted a leather lace round each slender neck. On it was the handcuff key. "Take you a little time to untie them knots," he opinioned cheerfully. "In fact you might not be able to undo ‘em at all. But that’s the luck of draw. Can’t say good old Mike didn’t give you a sporting chance."
"But you can’t dump us in the sea with our hands handcuffed behind!"
"Sure can, honey. You got a medal for swimming and Mabel told me the kid here swims like a fish. We’re right in close. You’ll get your feet on the sand after fifty yards or so."
"Oh Mike, why make us do this. It’s dangerous." Dorinda was aghast at what lay ahead.