Chapter 2

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.