© Connard Wellingham 2003

The boat sliced through the calm blue waters, its prow making comforting gurgling sounds. Amanda lay on the foredeck letting the sun soak into her skin.

'How on earth, ' she wondered idly, 'did I get into this?'

Her bottom ached, her arms ached and her cunt ached after last night's session. She shifted her position and winced as more muscles protested at the abuse they had received.

'Still, ' she thought with a contented sigh, 'it isn't all bad.'

She most definitely had that being well-fucked feeling - and the spanking had added a certain spice to the proceedings. And, she was forced to add, although she'd been hurt, she hadn't actually been harmed. In the time she had been on board, she had received no cuts, only minor bruises, suffered no broken bones and had not been forced to wear or do anything that could or would mar her looks.

And, really, the life was quite relaxing. Certainly there were periods of intense activity; when the yacht came about, or the winds were unfavourable, for example. Then everyone except Devlin would be frantically winding handles, pulling ropes and grappling with flapping canvas. There had been many sore bottoms and not a few tears the first few days as Devlin and the other men taught the girls the rudiments of sailing by the simple means of applying a whip if they got it wrong. Painful - but it had worked for they were now at least a moderately competent crew. And there were the domestic duties; cooking, cleaning and so on. But, other than these, a modern yacht practically sailed itself. And, of course, there was the sex but, she smiled to herself, she couldn't really complain about that. Why, she must have cum three times last night alone.

There were noises behind her and she lazily turned her head to see John, the mate, pulling a girl up the aft companionway. Poor Jenny, she really did seem to have a problem. She seemed to get more than her fair share of spankings. There always seemed to be some misdemeanour for which she had to bend over and expose her bottom to receive the whip or the paddle. Perhaps it was because she had such a deliciously spankable bottom. And she always wailed so sexily. 'If I was a man," she thought idly, 'I'd want to spank and fuck Jenny all day long, too. In fact, even though I'm not a man, I'd rather like to take a paddle to these full, round cheeks of hers and then, afterwards, kiss away the tears.' The thought gave her a little inner glow and butterflies in her tummy.

Jenny was dragged to a short boom attached to the mast. No sails were hoisted on this boom, it was reserved for recalcitrant girls. Amanda, herself, had been suspended from it more than once. Jenny's wrists were tied to the boom, a spreader bar was attached to her ankles and she was hoisted up until she was a good foot off the deck. A hooter gave three short toots. Amanda clambered to her feet. Three toots meant 'all hands on deck'. Jenny must have really done something wrong. She noticed that John did not have the large bulge in his shorts that he normally had when conducting a beating of this sort. This must be very serious.

The girls tumbled out of various hatchways and Gerry, the third man in the crew, sauntered up from the rear cabin. Devlin was, as usual, at the helm.

"Where's Tracy?" asked John when they had all assembled.

"Cooking lunch," said Georgette.

"She's excused then." He looked around at the assembled crew, his face serious. "I'm sorry to say we have a problem. Just now I discovered Jenny trying to send a message on the radio. You all know the radio is completely out-of-bounds. And you know the penalty for tampering with it. Jenny, I'm sorry to say, refuses to say what she was doing or who she was trying to contact. This is a most serious breach of discipline and I'm afraid it can't go unpunished."

'He looks genuinely upset about it, ' thought Amanda in astonishment. Up till now she had always thought the men were relatively indifferent to the effect their games had on the girls.

"Jenny will receive 20 lashes across her body. There will be no restrictions except the face and the feet."

This drew a gasp from the assembled crew. Amanda felt herself blanch. Normally beatings were just to the bottom or, occasionally, the breasts. She glanced up at the girl suspended above her. Although the colour had drained from her face it remained set and defiant.

"Normal rules will otherwise apply," John continued. "No blood will be drawn, except accidentally, and no permanent damage will be inflicted. Jenny, you know why you are here?" The girl nodded. "Will you tell me why you were using the radio?"

A variety of emotions chased across the young girl's face; anger, fear, stubbornness. "I... I can't, sir."

"It will be less severe if you tell me, you know." John's voice was surprisingly gentle.

"I know. It's just that... I can't tell you. I can't," she finished with a wail.

John sighed. "In which case I have no options but to give you the full 20 lashes. Gerry will you keep count?"

His partner nodded, equally grim.

John picked up the short-handled whip with its three long strands. Raising his arm he brought the strands whistling round. They curled round the girl's body like thin black snakes and when they fell away, there were three red weals on her side and up one breast. Time seemed to have stopped. Even the wind and the waves seemed to have paused their ceaseless murmur. In the sudden silence Jenny screamed and Gerry's flat voice said, "One."

His face a mask, John continued his awful task. With grave deliberation, ritual almost, he moved around the suspended girl, lashing her with the whip. A rag doll in the wind, she danced to his tune of pain. Her screams became continuous until she could scream no more and were all the more terrible for being silent. And through it all came Gerry's flat voice, counting the deadly strokes.

The audience watched, caught up in the spell of this dire ritual. Afraid, almost, to breath in case they upset some deadly balance. There was a thump beside Amanda. Suzie, the youngest of them, had fainted. Amanda made to help her.

"Leave her."

The last stroke fell. Jenny's body, from shoulder to knees was criss-crossed with angry red weals. A drop of blood trickled slowly, almost apologetically, from one of them. John dropped the whip on the deck and strode off without a backward glance.

"Amanda. Georgette. Help me with Jenny. Rachel attend to Suzie," Gerry ordered.

Slowly and tenderly, they freed Jenny from her bonds and carried her limp form down to the sick bay. Gerry opened the medicine cabinet and the three applied salves and dressings to the girl's damaged skin.

"Stay with her," Gerry ordered.

Throughout the long day Amanda and Georgette stayed with the suffering girl. They held her hands and bathed her brow as she slipped in and out of a feverish, fitful sleep. At one point she sat bolt upright, eyes wide and gripped Amanda's hand tightly.

"Oh, Amanda, I hate it. I've got to get out. I've got to. Promise me you'll help me. Promise."

"It's all right, darling. I'll help you, I promise," said Amanda soothingly, knowing she was lying and hating herself for it. Inside she knew there is no possible escape from a small boat in the middle of the ocean - except the ultimate one.

Jenny searched her face with desperate eyes. Amanda tied to meet her gaze calmly. Seemingly satisfied with what she saw, Jenny fell back and slept again.

Several hours - a lifetime - later, Gerry appeared. "How is she?"

"Sleeping more peacefully," Georgette said.

"Good."

Taking care to disturb the sleeping girl as little as possible, he examined her wounds, applied more salve and pronounced himself satisfied.

"You've done well," he said. "Send Tracy and Rachel along then get something to eat."

As if on cue, the pair suddenly realised that they were tired and hungry, their muscles cramped from sitting in the same position for so long.

"Yes, sir," they chorused and gratefully slipped away.

Utterly exhausted and emotionally drained, Amanda took to her bunk immediately after eating. Despite her exhaustion, sleep would not come. Images passed through her mind in a continuous cycle - Jenny's face as the first blow fell, John's haunted gaze, the red weals that sprung up on Jenny's skin wherever the lash landed, Jenny's plea for help. Round and round they went like demented rats until, to get some peace from them, she rose and crept to the galley to make some cocoa.

For a long time she sat, the cocoa slowly cooling, untouched, in the mug. To an observer, she would have appeared to be sitting quietly but inside the thoughts tumbled and roiled like a maelstrom.

At last she came to a decision and rose to her feet. She noted the cup of cold cocoa with surprise, not even having been aware of making it. Down the narrow corridor towards the stern she stole on faltering feet.

There was a faint strip of light showing under the door. Very carefully, she pressed her ear to the panelling and listened. Faint noises came from within. Summoning up every ounce of courage she possessed, she tapped on the door. A chair scraped and the door opened.

"Amanda," Devlin said with surprise.

"I'm really sorry to disturb you, sir. I know it's very late but I must speak to you."

"You'd better come in then."

He stood aside to let her slip into the cabin. She stood, blinking in the light as he seated himself. Leaning back he steepled his finger over his chest and regarded her.

"Now, what's so important that you need to speak to me in the middle of the night."

"It's Jenny, sir. I'm very worried about her." He frowned so she hurried on. "I don't think she's at all happy here, sir."

He sat forward abruptly. "Did she tell you that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Is that why she was trying to use the radio."

"I guess so."

"And did she say who she was trying to contact?"

"No, sir, but she was sort of delirious after... after... anyway she was sort of muttering and mumbling and then, all of a sudden, she said quite clearly that she had to get off the boat. That she wasn't coping with it all."

He regarded her directly, frowning thoughtfully and tapping the tips of his fingers together.

"Hmmm. This is serious. You did right in coming to see me. Did she say how she plans to escape?"

"No, sir. She wasn't really... together if you know what I mean."

"We can't have a discontented member of the crew. Did she say why she was unhappy? Has she given any indication in the past of how she felt?"

"No, sir, nothing." Taking a deep breath, Amanda plunged ahead. "But, if you'll forgive me for saying so, sir, you do tend to pick on her. She does seem to get more than her fair share of attention."

"What do you mean?"

"I may be speaking out of turn, sir, but it appears to us, the other girls that is, that Jenny gets more beatings than us and more, er, fucking."

"So are you suggesting that you should get more beatings or Jenny less?"

Amanda was stung. "Neither, sir. It's not my place to decide who gets whipped and when. I was merely trying to give a possible reason for Jenny's unhappiness."

He gave her a little nod of acknowledgement. "So you think we pick on Jenny more than you. Perhaps she deserves more than you."

Amanda shrugged. "Possibly, sir. But there may be other reasons."

"Careful, Amanda. You are verging on insolence." His tone was sharp. "What other reason could there be?"

"I don't know, sir." Then a little imp made her add. "Perhaps it's because she has a very attractive bottom."

He gave a shout of sudden laughter. "You've noticed, have you?"

Amanda blushed and studied the floor. "Yes, sir. I have to say I've sometimes thought about it myself."

"About spanking her bottom?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, well. You're full of surprises Amanda."

He sat back and regarded her downcast head thoughtfully for a long moment. His chair creaked as he stood and she looked up quickly. He tilted her chin so she was looking directly into his eyes.

"You've given me much to think about. You have done your duty well in telling me about Jenny. But..." his hand was caressing her shoulder, his eyes gazing hypnotically into hers. "... suggesting that I might be favouring Jenny in preference to you - that is going to far." He was stroking her arm now.

Amanda found she was trembling. "Jenny does, indeed, have a bottom that begs to be spanked but so, for that matter, do you. For your insolence I think a paddling is required."

"Oh, sir," Amanda gasped. "Please..." But even she wasn't certain if she meant 'please, no' or 'please, yes'.

"Take off your clothes and bend over the desk like a good girl."

Her heart beating frantically, Amanda did as she was bid. She felt his hands at her bottom, caressing and squeezing. They felt cool against her flaming skin. He prised her cheeks apart and ran a gentle, probing finger up and down the crack. She was embarrassed that he would find her so wet.

The hands left her bottom. She braced herself for what was to come. The pain was intense - the pain from the first blow always was. No matter that she knew it was coming and knew it would hurt, it always took her by surprise. Her breath hissed and she bit her lower lip to stop herself from calling out. She clenched her buttocks tightly in a vain attempt to ease the pain.

"Such a delightful bottom," he murmured.

There was a long pause and the pain began to subside. For one fleeting, fantastic moment, she hoped against hope that that one blow was it, although she knew really that it wasn't. There would be more.

The second blow fell. If anything this was worse than the first for she had started to relax and it caught her unawares. She was unable to prevent a small cry escaping her lips and she wiggled her bottom, possibly more than the pain warranted for she knew that, once it had gone, the heat would remain - the heat that could only be satisfied by having a stiff cock buried deep inside her.

The blows went on. The gap between each seemed arbitrary but each lasted an aeon. So much so that by the time he had completed four or five, the heat had arrived in unbearable intensity. Her bottom burned, her cunt burned. She could feel moisture leaking from her cunt. She wriggled her hips frantically, squeezing her cheeks together in a futile attempt to relieve both the pain and the heat.

"Well," he said at last. "I think that's enough."

She waited. Waited for the sound of his zip being undone. Waited for the feel of his hard cock nudging the entrance to her cunt. She waited in her need for him to take her. The waiting seemed endless. There was silence in the cabin except for his breathing and the pounding of her heart. The slight creaking of the boat's timbers and the gentle slapping of waves against the hull she did not hear. They were part of familiar everyday and below the level of awareness. She did not dare look round. But the inner fire would not be denied.

"Please." Her voice was barely audible - a mere whisper of sound.

"Yes, Amanda?" Was there amusement in his tone?

"Please... put your cock in me. Fuck me. Please?" The words were wrenched from her throat. How she hated this burning need. How she needed his cock.

He chuckled. "Seeing as you ask so nicely..."

His hands gripped her flaming bottom, the fingers digging into her flesh. Pain flared and she cried out. And then he was there, his cock forcing its way gently but insistently between her inner folds and into her vagina.

"Yesss," she gasped. "Oh, yesss."

He began to move. He filled her completely, her insides being replaced by cock. And when he pulled back he left a void as large as the space between the stars. She gripped the desk tightly and thrust back at him. The pain was ignored, overwhelmed by her need to feel him rhythmically plunder her depths. She felt a trembling start deep in her belly.

'Oh, God, yes, ' she screamed inside. 'I'm going to cum.'

She felt her juices flow, her belly spasm and her vagina clamp round his cock. A feeling of bliss spread through her body from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair. She wanted to suspend time and sail on this euphoric tide forever. But the cock in her cunt was still moving. Like the pendulum of a clock it shuttled back and forth. Like time itself it would not be denied.

She was very sensitive. The pain in her bottom, his hands on her hips, his pubic hair scratching her tender skin, his balls slapping against her thighs were almost intolerable. She felt his hand slide round her front and his finger probing her cunt lips. It found her clitoris and she almost hit the roof. She jerked and twisted as he tweaked the responsive nubbin and waves of pleasure crashed through her. She clenched her vaginal muscles, trying to draw him even more tightly to her, keep him bound inside her.