Chapter 5

Though a direct route taken from the port to the island of Marahwah would have taken just a few hours, the two women were determined to make good use of Doleman before handing him over to their mistress, such was their sexual arousal, so they had the crew take a circular route to ensure their cunts would be nicely sated by their prize. Despite his shameful spending upon the feminine gown, a keen erection greeted the mocking laughter of the feminine crew, the sting of the two women’s whips as he was led down to know the whiffs of their cunts and anuses ... and the deliciously masochistic realisation that he was going to a place of permanent enslavement under womanhood, and would never see what he knew as civilisation ever again.

Malika had stood upon the quay, and watched wistfully as the dhow weaved its slow progress away to its destination, the jealousy biting her as she heard the distant laughter and commotion of the crew as Doleman was teased and humiliated on deck. Already missing the warmth of his tongue at her anus, she was already scheming on a trip to Marahwah herself, determined to know the pleasures of descending in regal posture upon his eager face again, as she rubbed at her cunt through her black shawl.

Having been secured below deck, Doleman quickly found both women had a sadistic penchant for the whip where white flesh was concerned, both having been seen to be so staid when amongst the women where he’d been captured. Now liberated by the freedom of his use unmolested aboard ship, any inhibitions they may have had, disappeared as they also liberated themselves of their black garments, while employing their liberal use of the whip on his flesh. Just the sight of the tanned flesh of their mature bodies had him ready to spurt again, the humid air below deck having the two blossom with perspiration, enhancing the scent of their arousals, the scent of their cunts perfuming the cabin as he was shown the whip. The taller one laughed as she readied her cunt for his tongue.

“How does it feel to know total defeat, know that you’ll be enslaved by a woman for life ... know that you’ll never know liberty or show the slightest arrogance ever again?!” She didn’t wait for a response, just laughed and slipped her spread thighs toward his face as he squirmed on the open bunk he lay face down on, placed centrally within the cabin for just such entertainment. His cock pulsed, longing to come again, as both the deliciously submissive promise of her words combined with the heady whiff of her cunt’s spice, as he eagerly lifted his face to greet her sweaty slot and pucker. The shorter woman seemed to sense his pleasure at something that most men would view with utter dismay, and flexed her tanned body as she showed both her authority, and contempt, for him, her cunt moistening all the more as she applied her whip with extra vigour.

“ ... and by God, you shall know the whip! ... every day!” He bucked as the sting of her whip greeted his near union with the highly seasoned cunt before his nose, his anus and balls tingling wildly as his eyes studied the glorious brown butterfly he was to service, pink flesh peeping from the slippery slot between her dark labia, the clitoris already poking high and hard like a tiny penis, awaiting the service it would not be denied. He gasped with relief as she sneered and pulled his face into the sweaty warmth of her flesh, gasping herself as he unleashed his tongue without the slightest prompting, receiving more contempt via the whip for his rash ... but more than welcomed impudence ... as he swept his tongue up through the sticky crevice of her hot cunt.

The taste of defeat to womanhood, once again heralded the surrender of his seed, as she flicked his tongue away from its adoring nurture of her generous clitoris, and pulling her legs back, had his tongue know the spicy tangs of her pucker as she fingered the nub toward orgasm. Coleman’s disgrace was sealed from the moment his tongue slipped into the tight and hot comfort of a controlling woman’s anus, his place below them truly known and acknowledged by the whip, as she whined into orgasm and he grunted in masochistic ectasy ... shooting his seed to the bunk in utter defeat under the lash.

Doleman was giving a little time to recover his arousal, taunted over his disgrace and made to lick his seed from the sheets, before the two women exchanged places, and after a torrid time under the whip, but aided by the fresh spices of the other woman, he succumbed to defeat once more, before being allowed brief slumber in the short night’s darkness. As dawn broke, both women had their cunts licked to satisfaction once more, by a kneeling Doleman who was not allowed further satisfaction himself. The women then dressing once more in black, the leashed cur was whipped up the stairs to the open deck to greet the early sun, already very warm for him. The female crew looked on in eager anticipation, as he was whipped on all fours toward the poles at the prow, the taller woman enjoying a taunt.

“That’s where you’ll see your new and final home for the first time from ... and everyone on Marahwah who’s there, will see you displayed in shame as the slave of womanhood you now are!” He made no resistance to being shackled star fashion, between the two poles erected to the fore, displaying him above the projecting spar at the head of the boat, his utter obedience and acceptance to defeat at the hands of women, bringing smug sneers of contempt from the female crew, more aroused than ever at seeing another yet another male on show as the enslaved goods of femininity ... this one a white male. They gathered round eagerly, as the shorter woman whipped him for the sheer pleasure of it, bringing his cock to a masochistic erection, its poking and pulsing as he endured the lash, bringing on further heated arousal amongst the watching crew.

Doleman wanted to come again, as he was shown his place under the whip before the delighted female crew, his tearful eyes seeking out the shape of the distant island as he writhed in the leather shackles under the lash, his destiny of a life of enslavement to an unknown woman, sealed without question as the land mass became clearer. He jolted in his bondage as a small cannon was fired twice, announcing the approach of the vessel to the sordid den of dominant female authority that was the isle of Marahwah, and both altering and exciting the feminine inhabitants there to its approach ... the sound bringing tingling anuses and masochistic erections to the males already enslaved there, knowing that a fresh batch of male slaves may see feminine sport of those already there, in the way of executions or castrations.

The short woman had long relented with the whip, as the form and landmarks upon Marahwah became distinguishable, the women wanting him to savour what awaited him without distraction, his cock, still maintaining a half erection in lieu of the whipping, brought up hard as the hand of the taller woman was slipped round his body to run her nails under it, the spiteful pleasure in her voice ensuring its rigidity in a submissive lust for what was to come.

“Madam Fatima awaits you, though she’ll unlikely lower herself to greet you upon the dock, giving me plenty of time to display you on a leash ... and have every female inhabitant observe you well-earned weals, and enjoy digesting what a beaten and defeated cur you are!” Just her words and her wicked laughter as she moved back and posed in dominance close to him, had him nearly spurt his seed to the salty air, and though being displayed in bondage, high to the vessel’s fore, he was beginning to relish being let down to crawl, as the sun now blazed upon his outstretched arms and back ... but the sights coming into view soon distracted him from those thoughts of simple comfort.

As the vessel approached the dock, his ears were treated to the taunting warbling of massed femininity upon it, the sound making it patently apparent there was no escape and keeping his cock rigid with that lusty thought, but his eyes were drawn to stark cages displayed high upon poles, and other cage-less poles, each with the sorry corpses of males hanging within, or from neck or feet from those poles, each emasculated ... a forewarning to all males that this was an island of rigid matriarchal authority, no simple disobedience would be tolerated, and only enslaved masculinity would be welcome.

As the vessel docked, the two women allowed the eager crowd a good view of their prize, displayed in bondage at the prow before being taken down and walked on all fours on a leash before them along the dusty quayside; the fervour of the feminine crowd intense, at seeing a white male humiliated ... and their smug vindictiveness so justified, on seeing his cock jutting erect below him as he was shamed, with a submissive and masochistic pleasure at the fate which awaited him, which he couldn’t hide. A sneering hijab wearing woman greeted the procession of warbling and satisfied women as they made their way from the quayside.

“Madam Fatima has some business to attend to, upon the square...” She looked down at Doleman with a curt smile, her cunt already hot at the prospect of having the white slave lick it in obedience at the earliest opportunity.

“ ... a little demonstration of our authority, which I know she’d love to have her new pet witness.” Doleman’s cock perked all the more, as he took in the dark lust in her words, and saw her nipples poke hard through the black material of her long dress; as per all the women there, they may have had their figures obscured externally by uniform full length black dresses, their heads covered, and many with full burkas or niqabs, but it was apparent that their bodies flowed freely in nakedness beneath the silky materials ... and upon this island, in frequent and unashamed arousal.

His leash was tugged toward the white domed habitations, and the warbling of the procession was soon amplified by that of an immense crowd of women, so obviously vocal in spiteful enjoyment, their eyes glued to a woman whose black dress was tied at the waist, emphasising the femininity of her broad hips and full breasts wonderfully, a whip displayed in her hand as she stood over a naked male, bound head to toe, and writhing in the dirt at her feet ... dominated. Doleman’s cock pulsed out a dribble of pre-cum, knowing immediately that this was Fatima ... and knowing he’d also know that whip. The sneering woman knew he’d guessed, but cemented his fate with curt pleasure.

“There, that’s the woman who now owns you, Madam Fatima ... you’ll see how she deals with males who cross her.” They held back a little within the crowd, not wishing to distract Fatima from her present pleasure, the curt woman whispering something to another, who produced a black hood with eyelets, and a black shawl, with which Doleman was hooded and covered to avoid further overexcited distraction due to his pale flesh; he was now as several other enslaved males within the immense crowd, no more than a dog being walked out, to witness justified discipline ... and the wholesale pleasure the women of Marahwah got from it.

They could now venture a little closer, while the smug woman related on what was happening, Doleman noting that there was another male there, bound and seated on a stool-like object, his cock and balls dangling exposed, inviting a whip, which is what Doleman imagined was to happen ... but he was to know different.