Chapter 1

Sometimes I hated fucking on the boat; I don’t have one of those palatial fifty-foot catamarans that’s as big as an uptown apartment. At forty feet, my boat isn’t particularly small, but it’s an older sailboat and the curves of the hull limit the interior space which in turn means there’s often a lack of headroom or stuff is in the way; there’s always something to annoy me.

So sometimes it’s awkward, but not today. I met Beth at a yoga class a couple of weeks ago (I most definitely hate yoga, but I’m getting old and creaky... ) and now that I’ve finally lured her back for a test drive I must admit that her compact form and flexibility are well suited to the marine environment.

A short, slim, freckly ginger with abundant curly hair my fingers can easily get trapped in, she was folded in half under my chin as I swiped my tongue through her cunt, lingering at the apex of her folds while she shuddered and moaned.

“You still up for it?” I asked.

She looked up at me, maybe confused, maybe a bit spaced out and I held up a coil of rope, dangling it in her field of view. She grinned that big grin that had set the hook in me when we first chatted.

“Oh yeah!” Nodding isn’t easy when one’s chin is jammed between their tits.

With a practiced flick, the rope uncoiled across the cabin as I grabbed her wrist with my other hand. I quickly secured that wrist and brought it over her leg and behind her back and connected it to her other wrist the same way. Her knees folded back onto the bed, I had pulled her arms over her thighs, pinning her legs to the bed, leaving her hands tied behind her back. She was quickly and securely immobilized as much by her own body as by my rope.

I loomed above her and slid my cock back inside of her to pin her in place. Grabbing a length of bamboo, I lashed one end to each ankle and now her legs were splayed wide open, helplessly exposed for me.

Her eyes were wide as I began pumping in her wet and grasping cunt. I knew the position wasn’t particularly stressful for her since she was so bendy, but her movement was severely limited, especially with my weight pinning her to the bed, and that can be scary for some people. I hoped it was tickling that primitive fight or flight corner of her brain.

I explored her insides, taking note of which angles and pressures seemed to provoke the best reactions and as I felt myself getting closer, I pulled out and gave her clit a light slap, watching carefully. She twitched and grunted and shuddered, letting out an “oooohhhh, fuuuuuuck. I almost came. Ahhhh.”

I smiled and got back to work, licking her clit and chewing her labia alternately. I needed to hurt her, but not so much that she didn’t want more, so I restrained myself. Things were going well and I knew there’d be time to push her boundaries. As she squirmed her way closer to orgasm, I propped myself up with a cruel grip on one apple sized tit and smacked her cunt again, harder this time.

“Ugh! Fuuuuckk!”

Lick, suck, slap. Lick, suck, slap. I repeated this rhythm a few more times until she exploded under me with a guttural howl and as she was cumming I slammed my shaft back into her and pounded her hard until she was finished and lay there panting under me.

I took my weight off her chest so she could finally catch her breath and lazily stirred her insides while she recovered.

“Oh my goooood, Jack. What even was that?” she asked.

I leered down at her. “That was your turn. Now it’s mine.”

I turned her over in a process that could’ve been made awkward by the bamboo, but was simplified by long experience. This position was far more stressful with her arms twisted and tied behind her back and her knees spread wide. I might’ve been worried but I knew I wouldn’t take long and I decided to trust in yoga.

I gave her little bubble butt a hard slap and slammed into her. She responded with a muffled yelp, face buried in my tangled bedding. I banged my hips into her pelvis repeatedly, keeping a good grip on her hip bones. As I got closer I swished my thumb through my mouth, reached down and wriggled it into her ass.

Her body stiffened and her grunting changed pitch. With my other hand, I grabbed a knot of hair and cranked her neck back, adding to her stress. I increased the pace of my thrusting and her grunts became a keening chant of “oh fuuuu, oh fuuuu, oh fuuuu!”

I began to grunt along with her as my climax approached and with the last few strokes, I popped my thumb out of her ass and reached my fingers deep into her mouth, pulling her back hard into me and stimulating her gag reflex just enough to cause her cunt to clamp down on me like a vise and I exploded into her depths. I was dimly aware of her screaming into my fingers, whether with passion or pain, I couldn’t care at the moment.

My cock stopped pumping semen into her and I gently eased the pressure on her neck, carefully letting her slump down to the bed. I reached down and untied an ankle, initiating her release. It was a bit of a process to unpackage her and rearrange her limbs into a semblance of harmony and somehow during that process I slid back inside of her and slowly probed her with my not so erect dick.

My fingers were back in her hair, stroking her scalp and I bent down to give her a kiss and a soft nibble on her lower lip. She stretched under me, squeezing my almost-erection, and her arms wrapped around me from below.

“That was, ugh, like sooo fucking good. I’m maybe just a little blown away right now.” Then she opened her eyes, as if to see if I’d flinch.

“Perfect,” I responded. “My evil plan worked.”

I’m a predator.

Not a serial killer or a rapist, at least not in the conventional sense - it’s hard to know nowadays what rape actually is - but I absolutely prey on women. I’m a predator and a sadist. I’m especially fond of bondage. Thankfully the wild wild web has shone a light on the dark corners of perversity and made it so much easier to break the ice. I exploit their insecurities to get what I want and they almost always love it. I play the consent game to a point but I always push the limit. I need to break their rules as much if not more than I need to fuck them.

Now that I’m essentially retired and, dare I say, moderately well off, I spend much of my time hunting. I live on a sailboat in south Florida, at least most of the time. I usually head north for the summer, though sometimes I stick the boat in a marina and fly somewhere new.

I’m currently anchored a bit off of Key Biscayne, south of Miami. It’s usually a pretty popular spot, though it’s not too crowded today. I invited Beth on an ‘adventure’ to go explore Stiltsville, a collection of abandoned houses built on poles out in the bay that used to be party central for the glitterati back in the 1930s. Women love a nice, tame activity that seems more exciting than it is - it really lubes them up.

We headed out in my dinghy (essentially my car - a small inflatable boat with an outboard motor I use to get from my sailboat to shore) with a packed lunch and a couple of beers and spent a few hours oooohing and aahhhing over the ruins of Florida’s glamorous past. We did a bit of snorkeling in the shade under the houses - lots of colorful fish and a couple of stingrays. We made out on teetering, crumbling decks overlooking the bay as birds snatched some of the same fish she had just taken pictures of for her Instagram.

It was a good time; carefully calculated to drop her defenses and get her to beg me do things to her she’d only heard of on the internet.

Our first ‘date’ a couple of weeks ago was a typical no risk, no commitment froyo after class and pretty chaste. I’m easily twice her age and the oldest guy she’s ever entertained the idea of being with, so I was mostly appropriate.

We lied about ourselves in a dance where we each showed the other a carefully cultivated facade designed to circumvent the other’s defenses and move on to the next level.

“What do you actually do in the lab?” I asked. She’d explained briefly about her work in a hospital lab running blood samples.

“It’s kinda boring,” she said. “I mostly supervise techs that like, put the actual samples in the machine and then we wait for the machine to spit out the results and plug those into a program for the doctors.” She scraped her spoon around the bottom of the cardboard cup, digging out the last slurp of yogurt. “I wanted something more exciting, but it’s a pretty good job. And there’s good benefits,” she shrugged. Gotcha - let’s move on, I thought.

I steered the conversation to what she did for fun, aside from yoga. She liked dancing and movies. She liked being on the water, but didn’t get to do it nearly enough. I reminded her I lived on a boat and told her I’d be happy to take her snorkeling somewhere cool.

“That’d be sooo great!” she gushed. “I have my own stuff even though I’ve only been like, twice.”

“Easy peasy!” I said. “It’s a date.” I tapped her foot with mine under the table and felt her push back with her toes a bit. “Let’s walk a bit.” We’d both finished our froyo and I didn’t want just sitting here to turn awkward. Moving around provided opportunities and things to talk about.

I got the door for her and put my hand on the small of her back as she stepped through. Useless except as an excuse to ‘innocently’ touch her. We wandered down to Bayfront Park and continued to talk but also shared some silences that weren’t uncomfortable. I like silence. More accurately, most people are idiots and I don’t like talking to them, so I appreciated silence.