Chapter 7

Hans Piemmel had gone to bed as soon as Harry relieved him from the watch, and had fallen asleep immediately. But only an hour later he woke, prodded to consciousness by his sailor's ear, an ear that listened to his ship, the wind, and the sea, even while he slept. He lay quietly for a minute, trying to isolate the one sound which had waked him from all the others filtering into the darkness of his cabin.

Unable to decide what had disturbed him, he did not go back to sleep, as so many landlubbers would, but immediately rose and pulled on his tight blue jeans, and reached for the flashlight lying by his bed. A man could never turn his back on the sea, even while he slept, and the burly captain of the Vera had stayed alive many times because he followed through on what had only been intuition. Perhaps what had waked him had only been the faint tapping of some sixth sense on the sleep-fogged panes of his mind, but Hans knew better than to ignore that tapping.

Padding softly up the fore companionway on his bare feet, his ears attuned to the whispering night, Hans slid back the hatch cover, and raised his head into the rapidly lifting darkness. The motor sounded fine, no problem there, and the weather was holding clear and calm. Hans listened a while, and almost decided he'd answered a false alarm, when he heard the faint but unmistakable sounds of a woman moaning. Stepping up the companionway ladder two more steps, he peered into the early morning light, over the raised deckhouse, back into the cockpit.

What he saw there caused a lewd grin to flit momentarily across his face, and his insatiable cock to stir hungrily against the zipper of his jeans. What he saw was Harry Johnson leaning lazily back against the side of the cockpit, and the familiar form of Lynn Shaffer, propped on one arm, between his legs on the floor of the cockpit, one hand wrapped lovingly around the base of Harry's massive cock, her mouth and darting tongue tickling the bulbous head insanely. Hans' grin was wiped off his face and replaced by a look of cunning calculation. Quickly, and silently, he descended the ladder, retraced his steps to his bunk, and reached underneath to pull out his faded duffel bag. Tearing the drawstrings apart, he searched inside until he found the leather case containing his camera and film, and quickly began to load his most light sensitive film into the camera. He could only work with available light, so the pictures wouldn't be great, but the sky was beginning to lighten up considerably and if he waited he might miss his chance completely. Besides, the pictures didn't have to be that good. The threat of having good pictures was enough.

Coming stealthily up on deck, Hans crawled forward until only his head showed over the deckhouse. He managed to squeeze off five shots on a slight time exposure before Harry began spurting his burning hot seed into the young woman's eagerly waiting mouth. Hans' vicarious excitement in witnessing this scene was cut short as Lynn suddenly stood up, and quickly began to make her way toward the front of the boat. Hans spun around, hurried on his knees to the open hatch cover, and twisted his body down into it. He paused slightly, allowing Lynn to notice him, and then disappeared down the hatch, holding his right arm above his head as he descended so that Lynn could not mistake the object he held in his hand for anything but a camera. Once below, he sauntered to his cabin, and grinned with satisfaction as he flopped down on his bunk. His lips formed around a slight, off-key whistle, and his hands worked to remove the exposed film from its container.

Above, Lynn remained as if rooted to the spot where she stood. Her mind jumped crazily and abruptly from the frustration and shame she had just been through in the cockpit with Harry, and settled with fearful finality on this new development: Hans had been taking pictures while she and Harry...

Oh no, what do I do now? For one split second Lynn had a vision of herself in hell, tormented by unseen demons, unable to take a single step without raising from her path hideous forms that tore at her naked body and ran their slathering tongues over her smooth pink flesh, leering at her with smoldering eyes and toothless gums. She turned hysterically back to the cockpit, and was confronted with the spectacle of Harry stuffing his huge, deflated penis into his pants. She stared at his massive cock as though it had become a living creature that threatened her with annihilation, that was capable of ripping her body apart at the slightest whim. Again she whirled, moving forward quickly on the boat, desperately trying to find some escape from this floating, pitching, circle of hell. But there was none. She rushed across the deck, trying blindly to make her way aft, but smashed her shin against the teak wall of the deckhouse and sank to the deck, whimpering softly, clutching her battered shin in both hands, utterly defeated.

Her downfall was complete, she thought, as the hysterical core of her mind was gradually haloed by a desperate lucidity. Not only had she been the victim of some ungodly metamorphosis aboard the Vera, from saint to sinner, but that transition had been recorded and filed on film, to be used... how? Again, Lynn could not escape the only possible conclusion: Hans was going to show those pictures to her husband, Mark. And what would Mark do? Lynn shuddered. What would any man do if he saw his wife willingly sucking another man's cock?

There was only one way out of her predicament, Lynn knew. She had to get those pictures from Hans at whatever cost; and to destroy them. She stood up, flexing the pain out of her shin, and walked with surprising determination to the forward companionway, which led down into the darkness of the main cabin below. She was less frightened now, her hysteria cooled by sobering necessity. Unhesitatingly, she lowered her small, luscious body into the darkness below.

Hans had just finished unloading his camera, when he heard her knocking with surprising force on the door of his cabin. Sooner than I thought, he said to himself, an evil grin spreading across his face. He rose, walked over to the door, but had to step back as Lynn threw it open, and stepped into the cabin. Her small, delicious breasts were heaving up and down from the intensity of her emotions, and she was clearly unaware that she stood in front of her tormentor clad only in the half-open robe she'd been wearing upstairs.

"Good evening, Mrs. Shaffer, Ma'am," Hans said mockingly. "Is there something I can do for you?"

Lynn hesitated, intimidated by the tone of his voice. Her confusion and fear returned to her, constricting her throat to the extent that she could only manage an affirmative nod. She pulled her flimsy robe over her lusciously inviting body, but knew she couldn't hide its voluptuous curves and hidden recesses from the piercing eye of the sailor's imagination.

"Well now," Hans said, reveling in the discomfort his look caused her as it stripped the unsubstantial piece of terrycloth from her quivering body, "speak up. Don't tell me I have to stand here and guess?"

Gathering the robe even closer to her, Lynn managed to force a whisper from her paralyzed throat.

"That camera..."

"You'll have to speak up, baby. I'm a little hard of hearing." Hans was having a great time.

"You had a camera..." Lynn's voice could scarcely be heard, and it trailed off into silence.

Hans paused, and then went back to sit on the edge of his bunk.

"Yes, I did. As a matter of fact, I did," he grinned. "I was just trying to get some shots of the sun rising. Didn't get any though. Got up on deck a little too early. Too bad. Had to settle for just a few scenic shots... you know, waves and birds, and that kind of thing?"

"You mean you didn't... I mean... did you... ?" Lynn faltered, confused, almost half-believing his little joke. Her hope was short- lived.

"... get a few shots of you? Yeah, as a matter of fact, I did. Only I couldn't see you too well, 'cause Harry's knee seemed to keep getting in the way. Still, I think you'll like 'em. They really make a statement. Very exciting photographs -- I, for one, really think they ought to be published."

Lynn's blood turned to ice as her suspicions were proven true, and her voice assumed an abjectly pleading tone.

"Hans, please, you've got to give me those pictures... please."

"Give 'em to you. What do you mean? If we sell 'em, to the right people that is, we'll both make a lot of money, don't you see? These pictures could be very profitable for both of us."

"Stop it!" Lynn screamed, unable to take any more of his cuteness, "Stop playing with me! I've got to have those pictures!"

Hans' face suddenly hardened, and a fire slowly began to kindle itself in his eyes.

"All right, baby, I'll give you the pictures..."

Lynn couldn't believe her ears. She started to say something, but he stopped her.

"... but you can't expect me to give up my share in the profit we were going to make off 'em, can you now?"

"But, I can't..." Lynn stuttered, "I don't have any money."

"I'm not talking about money, baby," he retorted, "money will come later. What I'm talking about is something a little different."

Lynn gasped as she read his meaning in the lust-excited pupils of his cruel eyes. Ah God, she thought to herself, he can't mean... I can't. Not again. Her thoughts forced themselves into her throat, and she heard herself saying, "No... I won't... you can't do this..."

"But I can baby," Hans sneered, "Don't you realize I can do anything I want with you now? All I've got to do is show these pictures to Mark Shaffer, and you've lost yourself a husband."

"No, Mark wouldn't... he would understand. He could never believe that I would..."

"Not even with the evidence right in front of him?" the sadistic sailor interrupted.

"No... never... he wouldn't..."

"All right, honey, then try this one on for size." Hans stood up, and walked over to her. "I understand your husband and Harry Johnson have a little business deal cooking, that right? Never mind answering, I know it's right. Well, let me ask you a question. What if I went to Harry Johnson, and said I wanted some money for these pictures?" Hans smiled as Lynn turned her delicate body away from his, and saw that she did not follow what he was saying. "Let me put it this way. There are two people in those pictures, baby, not just you. Well suppose I went to that other person, Harry Johnson, and said that you, and me, and your little husband had all decided we needed a little money. And then, suppose I told him we had decided to work together." Hans smiled sadistically as Lynn turned slowly to him, her face tortured by the sudden realization of what he was saying. "And then suppose I told him we decided to plant you between his legs, so we could take some nice little pictures of the two of you together."

"No!" Lynn screamed. "You couldn't! You wouldn't!"

"Yes, baby I could and I would." Hans' voice hardened again, and he reached out and spun Lynn's frail body into his powerful manliness. Grasping her shoulders with his huge hands, he lifted her almost off the floor, and held her close to his vicious, twisted face. "You are my property now, baby, and I can do anything I want to with you. 'Cause if you don't go along with everything I say, I will show those pictures to Johnson, and say you were in on it, and then you can kiss that little business deal good-bye!"

Lynn's mind rebelled hopelessly at what he was saying, but she knew he was right. He held an absolute control over her now, and there was absolutely nothing she could to about it. She went limp in his arms knowing that she was totally defeated, knowing that her shame was complete, and that from this moment on she would be living in a hell governed by the mad, sex-crazed sailor who held her so close. Her head dropped, and she did not even offer the slightest resistance as Hans Piemmel lifted her easily from the floor and deposited her in the same bunk where he had taken her so cruelly the first time.

She didn't protest as he peeled the robe from her impassive shoulders, but stared with glazed eyes at the ceiling above her head, knowing that whatever might come, there was no use fighting it. She had lost all her weapons the minute Hans' camera had caught her performing fellatio on Harry Johnson, and she lay defenseless now before the impending assault by the sadistic captain of the Vera. This was her last chance, she vaguely thought, and perhaps she could plead with him now. Maybe he would understand. She looked away, staring out the porthole into the coming morning, and realized that this was a futile hope. Nothing could stop the brutal seaman from exploiting her now. Then, suddenly, his lips pressed tightly against the naked flesh of her belly, causing her to squirm and almost faint with shocked surprise.

The sudden wet contact sent a chill of undesired excitement racing up the length of Lynn's spine. Her eyes glazed over as he dropped his lips down to the swelling mound of her pussy, spreading the softly curling pubic hair with his thumbs and flicking his tongue slowly into the moistly flowering slit of her vagina. Oh God! Lynn moaned and jumped at the touch of his tongue against the tiny hard bud of her clitoris. She watched with fearful eyes as he stood and stared at her soft blonde pussy- hair and the wide, throbbing lips of her openly splayed pussy. They seemed to beg for him, to call out to be touched more and be kissed, and the hardness of his penis ached and made him quiver as he dug into her thighs fiercely with his fingers. Then he slithered forward, up upon the wanton slit between the girl's trembling thighs, down to where his face was just above her vaginal flesh. In shocked realization, Lynn saw what the sailor was going to do to her, and she sucked in her breath in horror.