The waters around the small tree-covered island, jutting proudly from the calm sea, were dangerous. I knew this; I had been told. The coy young lady, whom I had spent half the previous evening with at The Red Lion warned me as her eyes twinkled and my hands massaged her thigh. I got nowhere with her, despite me drunkenly boasting I could bring any girl to a powerful orgasm with my tongue, but we discussed a few fantasies and I got a kiss on the cheek. She smiled sweetly and welcomed me to the village, before warning me again not to venture towards the island – about three miles from the coast – unless I wanted to get into trouble. They were pirates' waters.
Any advice to avoid the good fishing grounds was always going to be ignored, and the following morning I loaded a small yacht with my fishing gear and a Thermos flask of hot tea. The sea was calm and land was just a minor footnote on the horizon. I could see the "Pirate Island" a couple of hundred feet away but it was silent and still, save for a few birds nestling in the plethora of trees that had taken root on the lonely outcrop.
It was peaceful and serene and I opened my flask to take my first drink. It was a great spot for fishing as within an hour I had six fish in my bucket that would make a wonderful lunch on the fine Summer's day. The soft lapping of the water against the side of the boat was relaxing and enjoyable, and I leant back in the vessel. It was too nice, and I pushed my boots off with my feet.
My trousers and top soon joined my boots and I looked around the sea before continuing. I knew I was alone, but I just wanted to check. The rough wooden bottom of the boat irritated my exposed back as I lay down and I gave a satisfying sigh as my underwear was abandoned onto the rest of my clothes; being naked and at sea was wonderfully relaxing and so enjoyable.
I savoured the Sun's rays, closed my eyes and daydreamt. I could see my ex-girlfriends dressed in latex bustiers and corsets walking around me and blowing kisses towards my naked body, offering promises they would have to keep. I could see the girl from the coffee shop sliding a chocolate flake between her bossom and "forcing" me to retrieve it. I could see the girl from the pub naked and "making" me eat her pussy as if my life depended on it. I licked my lips and panted, my hands gravitating towards my erect cock.
The first stroke was heavenly; the cool air of the sea wind breathed gently over my glistening tip and made me feel alive. Shivers of pleasure and contentment swept through me and I groaned, savouring the moment; the subtle lapping of the water and the sea birds squawking overhead played a calming soundtrack to my self-pleasure. It was gorgeous.
My other hand squeezed my nipples and glided over my body to touch my balls; I spread my legs further to allow my fingers to touch and to probe my perineum; a sizzling warmth spread instantly through my loins and my cock glowed and radiated with lust. The naughtiness of masturbating on the open seas tickled my arousal, it felt so dirty and so dangerous.
My hand circled my glans, swirling the first drops of pre-cum around my engorged head; I groaned: it had been a few days since I had had sex or played with myself and my deep-seated desperation washed over me. My balls tingled and my cock throbbed: climaxing on the open seas as the swell of the water rocked my boat would be so satisfying. I made long deep strokes with my hands, sliding my palm over my glans with squeals and groans.
My mind danced with erotic imagery: the slut on the corner of my road, begging me to pound my cock into her stretched pussy, the masseuse in the big town squealing as my fingers pressed on her sex, my landlady caning me for late payment: I fantasised with wild abandon as my fingers pressed on my perineum, rubbing it in circles as my body begged for a release.
"Huhhh-nnnn," a voice called and my boat rocked violently.
"What the... ?" My eyes blinked as I struggled to adjust to the bright light of the Sun streaming through my now-opened eyeballs. "Hey!" I yelled as I struggled to focus on the movement. I felt the boat tip downwards as someone stepped onto the boat in front of me; they were wearing black but I couldn't focus.
"Some sea dog," a female voice called in a dismissive tone. "Thinking it's OK to wank himself off in our waters." I coughed, and scrambled to the end of the vessel, my heart beating furiously in my chest: who was this woman?
My eyes blinked and I put a hand up to shield my eyes as my other hand belatedly protected my modesty. She was in her late twenties, with dark hair that cascaded down her scowling face to her bosom. She wore a black hat with the Jolly Rodger motif printed upon it, a white top, tied with a knot so that her midrift was exhibited, and a red jacket open at the front. My mind salivated at the prospect, still in excessive horny mode as her outfit was completed by a black skirt and sexy boots. I wanted to fuck her, and ignored the danger the sabre she was clutching, presented.
"These are our waters," a second voice told me, and I looked over to a larger boat alongside mine flying the Jolly Rodger flag proudly. The second girl, dressed in a crimson pirate's outfit banged her sword on the side of my boat and snorted as looked at me. "Just another twisted mainlander, take him ashore."
I objected, claiming to be in safe waters, but they ignored me. I pleaded with them, begging them for mercy but the first pirate threw my clothes onto her boat and she sat down, nodding towards the oars and tapped her sword. I tried my best to cover my nudity but it was too late: she had seen everything and she taunted me as she navigated us towards the island.
I protested vainly but she had a sword in her hand and a mischievous glint in her eye. My questions about what they were going to do went unanswered and my eyes slipped upon the small island, encased in thick trees.
My clammy hands slipped on the oars as I kept glancing towards her: she was sexy and I chastised myself for fantasising about the woman kidnapping me. Her skirt rode up slightly as she leant back and my cock twitched: I was so close to climaxing when I was interrupted and my testosterone levels were still too high.
My boat reached a narrow inlet and the bottom of the boat crunched as it hit the soft, sandy carpet of the small beach. My kidnapper's accomplice was already waiting for us; her much larger vessel was already tied up and she dragged my small boat further in land. "Get out," she barked as I stumbled in the boat.
"Can I have my clothes?" I stammered. They laughed and the long-haired pirate who had boarded my boat, pushed me by the neck as I disembarked. I fell onto the sand with a yelp, spluttering as I inhaled dry sand.
My captor pushed the point of her sword against my exposed thigh, digging it in painfully. "Move," she barked. I scrambled away from her and her weapon, but she followed me, directing me up the beach and into the small woodland.
It was not a big island and it took just a minute of painful barefoot walking between the trees to reach the centre of the isle. Occasional squelches of mud oozed between my toes where the tree cover was broken and twigs dug into my skin, causing me to yip in discomfort.
I got no respite or sympathy; the sexy pirate followed me with her sword outstretched, directing me to the clearing in the very centre of the island. I could hear the rustling of the wind through the trees and the breaking of the sea against the island, but she lowered her sword and stood a few metres from me, leaning against a tree.
A tent was erected on the edge of the clearing and there was burnt ground a few feet away; she saw my eyes linger on them for a moment and I looked away. "So what happens now?" I asked a little aggressively. "You're..."
"What happens now," a voice behind me barked. "Is that we show young men that our waters are not for filth." I spun to face the other woman walking into the clearing carrying my clothes, my bucket of fish and a sword. "Tie him up."
I coughed and protested, backing away and desperate to get away from them. "No. Look, I'm sorry, I'll go away and won't say anything to anyone. Promise." The two women advanced on me, and I scurried away from them, jumping into the forest and sprinting away from them.
I got a dozen metres from the clearing, my feet treading painfully on nature's carpet of hurt, when I was bundled to the ground by one of the girls. I cried in shock and in discomfort as I landed on a small bush, that only yielded so far before scratching and tearing my exposed skin.
I was smacked viciously across the rump and a sword jabbed my thigh. "Do that again," I was warned. "And you'll be pissing blood for a week." I gulped; I didn't doubt they were serious, and was hauled back to the clearing by my kidnapper.
The two women didn't waste any time in binding my hands to two trees a couple of metres apart. It stretched my arms painfully and my shoulder ached after just a couple of minutes while they whispered conspiratorially but I struggled against my rope restraints and they did not yield; I was stuck.
"Who are you?" I asked, my eyes watching the two controlling women as they stood looking at me; they oozed control, the sultry look in the eyes, the firm grips on the swords and the malevolent smirks as they slowly inched further apart.
"Sandy, the Pirate Wench," my kidnapper called from my left, stopping and leaning against a tree outside their tent. I giggled and bit my lip; it was too silly a name to be taken seriously. Her frown intensified.
.... There is more of this story ...