Concrete Boots

by peregrinf

Copyright© 2010 by peregrinf

BDSM Sex Story: This is a story of consensual bondage, rape, sodomy, and death, inspired by one brief sentence at the end of one of ASSM's Laura Lynn Davis's excellent stories, but it does not employ any of her themes. Interestingly, I drew a fan letter from a foot fetishist.

Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Rape   Heterosexual   Tear Jerker   BDSM   Rough   Snuff   Group Sex   Anal Sex   Exhibitionism   Voyeurism   Foot Fetish   Caution   .

WARNING: This is a story of consensual bondage, rape, sodomy, drowning and death. It was inspired by one brief sentence at the end of one of Laura Lynn Davis's excellent stories, but it does not employ any of her themes.

HOW I WROTE THIS, AND HOW YOU MAY WANT TO READ IT: I found alternating the viewpoint when writing in the first person an intriguing challenge. One of the problems was maintaining consistency.

Using Microsoft Word for Windows 2000, I created a two column table, placing the male protagonist's sections on the left and the female's on the right. I worked back and forth between them, chapter by chapter, as it were. Sometimes I finished an entire section for one character before writing the other character's experiences, at other times I found myself jumping back and forth in mid-section.

And finally, some interesting statistics:

As of this writing: The women's free dive record is 130 meters, about 427 feet. The men's free dive record is 133 meters,. about 439 feet. The Bahamas Trench is 4,450 meters deep, or 14,600 feet, about 2.75 miles.


I was sweating by the time I levered the first shovel full of concrete into the galvanized washtub. You try mixing concrete by hand in the hot sun sometime.

Once I had a couple of inches spread evenly over the bottom I was glad to take a break. "Okay, step in," I told my wife. Taking my hand, Jenny gingerly stepped into the wide pail, reaching also for the port bow stay as she did. The tub sat up on sheet of plywood, with casters under it. I'd locked the wheels so they wouldn't roll until we wanted it to.

She giggled. "It's cold!" She wiggled her toes and a little crept up between them, gray and thick against her pink skin. "Feels weird, like tapioca pudding!"

I was mopping the sweat off. "You sure you want to do this?" The boat rode easily at our private dock, the channel placid in the morning calm.

Jenny grasped the starboard stay as well, arms spread wide as she faced the bow of our cruiser, her blue eyes sparkling. "More than anything!"

She looked at the way my jutting hardon was trying to rupture my Speedo. There wasn't any doubt how my libido felt about it - my stiff cock was evidence enough of that, no matter what my brain was thinking, or my heart feeling. "And you want it, too, don't you?"

"I don't want to lose you," I insisted. God she was beautiful, a petite blond, barely five feet tall, a hundred pounds of sexual high explosive, her shiny black bikini hugging her girlish tits and tight little pussy.

"But you do want to see me die," she answered breathlessly.

No! I said to myself. "Yeah," I admitted reluctantly.

"Do it!" she insisted. "Do it now, before I lose my nerve."

I bent to scoop up another shovel of concrete and add it to the basin. "You can change your mind right up until the last minute..."

She shook her head, her short blond locks flicking around her smooth, soft cheeks. "No. Once it sets, I can't. I won't. Besides, how would you explain it?"

I had to admit, if I had to ask someone to chisel her out it would be pretty hard to explain how she'd gotten her feet set in tub of concrete.

I levered another shovel of concrete into the basin. The gray slurry moved up on her feet. I was doing it gently so I didn't bruise her with the heavy, gravel laden mix. She'd set her feet about shoulder width apart, and I eased the next load between them, careful not to bump her with the shovel.

It was slow, but, shovel full by shovel full, the level rose, covering her dainty toes. Bit by bit it crept up - her insteps - next her ankles, then her shins.

She was breathing hard, looking down as the gray mass slowly engulfed her legs. I stopped and wiped the sweat off, giving her a chance to drag her feet out before it got too deep, but she just straightened, holding on to the stays, her lips parted in that way they had when she was sexually aroused.


My mouth was dry and my pussy was wet as I watched Dave mix the concrete in the wheelbarrow on the bow of our boat. Even this early in the morning the sun was hot, and he was sweating, his muscles bulging as he had carefully stirred the mix. I swallowed hard when he ladled the first shovel full into the washtub. It hadn't been easy to find one of the old, galvanized washtubs - everyone makes them of plastic these days, it seems. Finally we found one in a building supply place. It was perfect, wide enough I could spread my feet, deep enough that the concrete would come almost to my knees if he filled it to the brim.

When he had about two inches covering the bottom, he invited me to step in.

It was the point of no return. I was trembling as I lifted my foot. His hand was warm and firm in mine, but I gripped the stay to steady myself as well, and eased my foot down on the lumpy mess, giggling from the sudden chill. It felt like - oh, I don't know - maybe thick, heavy tapioca pudding is the best comparison. It was slimy, and lumpy, of course - we were using a good gravel mix. It was like stepping in mud that had little rocks in it to bruise the bottom of your feet.

My pussy wept at the thought of what was to come.

"You sure you want to do this?" he asked me.

Oh God! Did I? Did I! I grabbed the starboard stay, spreading my arms as if I were being crucified. "More than anything!"

I saw his erection, like a pole - no, more like an eager animal trying to tunnel out of his swim suit to get at me. There was a wet spot at the tip. "And you want it, too, don't you?"

"I don't want to lose you," he said, and his eyes told me he was speaking the truth. But so was his cock, and it wanted something else.

"But you do want to see me die." My chest was tight as I said it.

"Yeah." He squeezed the word out.

"Do it!" Oh God I was scared and excited. "Do it NOW, before I lose my nerve."

He shoveled more concrete in around my feet. He was so sweet as he tried to avoid hurting me.

As he shoveled he tried to talk me out of it, but I refused. We'd planned this for months. No, I would not go back on it. I'd had the fantasy since I'd read some trashy crime novel - swimming in concrete boots, they'd called it as the bad guys had prepared to dispose of the girl who was going to rat them out before the Grand Jury.

Then there'd been that film, a gangster movie. After raping the woman they'd set her feet in concrete and dropped her over the side of a launch, into that dark, cold harbor, and the camera had followed her down, her hair rising above her as if trying to follow the bubbles from her mouth, while she struggled against the weight relentlessly dragging her down.

I felt the weight of the concrete as it slowly covered my feet, heavy and thick.

David paused and I looked out beyond him at the water, hornier than I think I'd ever been. Soon, soon, I told myself. I was wracked by a mini-orgasm at just the thought of what lay ahead for me.


The concrete covered her feet now. Where it had slopped up and dropped back it left a gray coating on her skin that dried in the hot sun. I'd have to add water, sprinkle it for it to set right. Soon the wheel barrow I'd mixed it in would be down enough I could tilt it and pour what was left into the tub.

She asked me to tie her wrists to the stays, as we'd planned, so she'd be helpless.

"Helpless it is," I agreed, sinking the shovel into the wheelbarrow and getting the short lengths of rope. She'd cut them to length herself, even whipping the ends so they wouldn't fray.

"Tight it is," I agreed, pulling her arm up the stay. I carefully wrapped the rope to trap her wrist against the cable. Afraid she'd cut her skin on the wires, I added a turn of rope as a cushion between her and the cable.

I tried not to think about what I was doing as I bound her other wrist. I loved her. But I hated her for what she was driving me to do to - no, not "to" but with her. We were in this together. She was strained, her arms tight, breasts drawn up, her belly flat, and I could see how her feet threatened to suck up out of the concrete. Finishing the tying, I tried lifting the handles of the heavy wheelbarrow and found I could get it off the deck. Careful to get it over the tub, I tilted and watched the concrete slide in around Jenny's legs. I heard her gasp as the mass of cement, water and gravel engulfed her almost to her knees.

Awkwardly, I scraped the last out of the wheelbarrow and used the shovel to smooth it in the tub, careful not to cut her legs with the blade.

It was done. I stepped back and looked at her, drawn tight by the stays, her body gleaming in the hot sun. Her beautiful face was shiny with sweat, and a few drops trickled down her sides from her armpits, down between her breasts cupped in the black triangles of her top, her nipples obviously stiff with arousal beneath the shiny Lycra molded to her firm tits.

God she was beautiful! Unable to resist it, I touched her cheek, toyed with her ear as she tilted her head against my touch before I let my hand stroke her neck, feeling her racing pulse.

All I could think of was how much I loved her, that I loved her enough to grant her this last, mortal wish. Turning away, I blinked back tears. I knew nothing I said or did could change her mind. Her fate was set in stone - or, in this case, concrete. Squatting down, I used my finger to trace a big heart in the slowly hardening cement. I wrote our initials in it, hers above mine, and scratched an arrow through the heart, adding the date beneath it.


The concrete was almost up to my ankles now. I wiggled my toes, feeling it slurp around and between them. Soon I wouldn't be able to wiggle them.

But I wanted something more. I asked him to tie my hands to the stays. "I told you, I want to be helpless."

I watched him get the ropes, making sure he picked the right ones. I'd measured carefully, tried them out, carefully wrapped the ends in fine cord so they wouldn't fray, just like a sailor would have done it.

"Tight," I reminded him.

He pulled my arm up tight so my wrist was high up, my arm straight, and then lashed it to the stay. The stainless steel cable was cold and rough against my wrist. If I struggled I'd probably tear my wrist open on it. Then he put a turn of rope between my skin and the cable and I smiled at him in gratitude.

Stretching my other arm out, he repeated the process, drawing me up tight, just as we'd measured and planned. I was "bar tight" as a sailor would say about a line under heavy load. I could barely wriggle, but I had to be careful. My feet weren't buried deeply enough in the concrete to really anchor them yet. "I'm about to pull out," I warned him. "Better finish the concrete."

His muscles bulged, those muscles I so loved to run my hands over. I'd probably never get to do that again, I realized with a shock, the reality of what was coming suddenly hitting me. The thought made me shiver as he tilted the wheelbarrow, a thick wave of concrete slopping into the tub.

If I hadn't been anchored to the stays I might have been knocked off balance by the sudden weight. As it was it felt as if some heavy load had pushed against my shins, pressed down on my feet. I felt it compact more around my toes as he smoothed the cement down in the tub, then stepped back.

I was hot. The sweat running down my body tickled. I hoped the others would be here soon so we could get underway. Once we got moving the breeze of our motion would cool me off.

I could see the love and desire in his eyes as he studied me. He touched my cheek and I leaned my face against his caress, thrilling to his touch. He toyed with my ear and my horniness blazed up. He stroked the side of my neck.

Oh how I loved him, that he'd do this for me!

I saw him cry for me. Before he turned away I saw his eyes brim with tears of love and loss. But not even that could change my mind.

He knelt at my feet, and I looked down along my straining body as he drew a heart in the concrete, put our initials in it, an arrow through it, and dated it.

Tears leaked down my own cheeks at the sight of it.

DAVE I ran the silken blindfold through my hands as I came up behind Jenny. I had to duck under her arm to get in front of her. As I brought the blindfold up, I saw the fear in her eyes, and halted as she begged me to wait, reminding her it was what she wanted. "I know, and I do. Just give me a minute."

I waited. I saw the love for me in her eyes as she looked at me, and felt another turbulent surge of emotions - love and hate. She knew I'd do anything for her, and that I was doing this proved how much I loved her. She'd asked me to fulfill her final fantasy, and I was, and I couldn't help hating her for it, and me for my weakness.

She looked around, past me, to our house on one side, the house I'd built for her, then back to the channel to the ocean. Her eyes were as blue as the sky she surveyed one last time.

"All right," she said, and I brought the blindfold up. She closed her eyes as I drew the black band across them. Awkwardly, I reached behind her head to tie it in place. Then I carefully adjusted it so she couldn't see anything.

I saw her arms strain against the ropes, the muscles of her beautiful legs testing the hardness of the concrete encasing her feet and lower legs. For a moment I hesitated, then knelt to carefully pack it back in, closing the tiny gap she'd opened around her upper calves. Then I picked up the hose and wet down the surface of the concrete again.

Then I held her, awkwardly because of the tub of concrete. Finally I had to break away.

"The others will be here soon," I told her.

"How many?"

"Six," I answered. I'd had to choose carefully among our friends. We didn't want anyone squeamish, no one with any reservations. I saw her gulp. Was it too many? But it was too late to change it now. She didn't know who they were, which of our friends would want to see her die.

"Any women?"

"One man is bringing a date, another his wife. I've got to go greet them. Don't go away," I managed to joke.

"I love you!" she suddenly called, almost desperately, and I went back to her, stroked her tenderly.

"I love you, too." I felt a pang, because I knew, unless she changed her mind, those would be the last words I heard from her. We'd agreed, all she needed to do after this moment was speak a word, any word, and it would stop.

I prayed she would, though I was sure she wouldn't break her silence ever. She was that strong.

I tried to adjust my aching cock so it wouldn't show as I made my way through the house to let our guests in.


"Wait!" I pleaded as Dave raised the black silk blindfold toward my eyes.

"It's what you wanted," he reminded me.

My heart was racing. "I know, and I do. Just give me a minute."

I feasted my eyes on him. I could see the pain in his eyes. That he loved me enough to do this for me only made my love for him greater. He was kind, and handsome and thoughtful.

I looked around, too, beyond him, trying to store up the memories. Our house on the water, the beauty of the hot Florida sky, the sandy beaches with their palm trees and the blue, blue water. These memories would have to sustain me, since this would be the last time I saw my darling husband, and all the rest.

"All right," I said softly. I closed my eyes as he brought the black band over them. I felt him tying it at the back of my head, adjusting the front to cut off the last sliver of light so I could see nothing.

I shivered, tugging against the ropes binding my wrists to the stays. I could barely wiggle my legs in the slowly hardening concrete. Dave must have knelt then, because I felt him carefully pressing the concrete firmly against my calves. I must have opened a gap with my testing, and I promised myself I'd not do it again.

He sprayed the concrete then, so it would harden better he'd told me. The water from the hose was cold on my naked legs. Then we shared a few private moments in each other's arms.

"How many?" I asked when he told me the others would be arriving soon. Thank God, I thought, we'd finally be getting underway. I shivered when he answered "six." So many. But enough. "Any women?"

Six men, one date and one wife? There'd be women here to see, to watch. Would they understand?

Would any of them follow my example someday in the future? Or perhaps they'd use a different means, with the same end in mind.

"I'm sure I'll be right here when you get back," I answered him when he jokingly asked me to wait there while he went to greet them.

"I love you!" I said desperately at the last moment.

He came back, touched me gently. "I love you, too."

He knew that was the last time I'd speak, unless I wanted to call this off. One word more and I'd be saved, that's all it would take. I knew it wouldn't happen.

The weight of the concrete around my feet was all too real now, too solid.


Once clear of the channel I pushed the throttles forward and the cruiser lifted, began to plane over the glassy sea, pitching gently from wave to wave, the twin diesels making it's frame quiver with their throaty roar. There was only a slight swell, no wind, with a calm, clear forecast for the next week. Long enough. More than long enough for the round trip all of us but Jenny would make.

I couldn't help looking down on her below me at the bow, her feet now locked in the cold, gray tub of concrete, her arms spread wide, tied to the stays. The wind of our passage blowing her hair back in streamers like spun gold, her only covering the black blindfold and shiny black bikini that clung to her curves.

It was time for the bikini to go. My mouth went dry at the thought, even as my cock regained the thrust it had lost during the tedious passage out to the open sea.

Setting the autopilot, I went below, to the stern. "Anyone want to play with the lady?" I asked. "She's over dressed, and probably needs a good coating of this, too."

I tossed them the bottle of sun screen, and went back to my piloting.

Back up on the flying bridge, I took control of the boat again, looking down on our guests as they gathered around Jenny. I knew Jenny wouldn't talk now, that she'd take whatever came now without complaint, without saying a word.

Oh, she'd probably moan some, perhaps scream before it was over, but she wouldn't talk. I knew how stubborn she could be.

Charlie, a buff blond guy, pinched her ass and I saw her flinch. Then John, a wiry guy with curly black hair untied her top and the little scraps over her tits were drawn away. Her breasts gleamed very white in the sun - she'd never been one for nude sunbathing. Mike looked like he wanted to rape her already, and Mike's girl licked her lips at the sight of Jenny's firm tits, her sharp, pink nipples.

John untied Jenny's bikini bottom next as someone opened the suntan lotion. He drew off Jenny's last bit of covering. I could only see the firm cheeks of her ass from my angle, but I knew the others could see her pussy with its delicate, light red bush. Jenny's ass cheeks flexed, and my hands tightened on the wheel. I ached to be down there with them, but this was my penance for now - just to watch.

John said something, and let the little scraps of Jenny's bikini flutter over the side. I watched as they were swirled around by the bow wave and quickly left behind.

She wouldn't need it again anyway, I thought with a pang. The eight of them shared the sunscreen around, began fondling her, stroking her, squeezing her breasts, her ass, coating her naked flesh. I saw her squirm against the ropes binding her wrists, the stays actually flexing a little, her leg muscles straining against the now hard concrete.

They were careful, thorough, but who wouldn't have been, given that lovely body so totally at their mercy? Mike's hand must have found her pussy, because I saw Jenny's ass tighten, saw her try to spread her legs and hump her cunt. She tilted her head to the side, turned her face upwards, as if trying to see me through her blindfold, her lips parted with passion.

I couldn't hear what they were saying over the engine noise, but I could guess. One of the women was clinging to her date, hugging his arm to her tits, pressing his knuckles into her crotch as she watched him pinch Jenny's tits with his other hand.

The woman who'd been holding her date's arm released it after saying something, and I watched her strip off her own bikini. Then they were all getting naked. The men were rampantly erect. Mike wasted no time in somehow getting his cock up into her. I knew he'd wanted her for years. I saw Jenny flinch as he filled her with one thrust.

Setting the autopilot again for a moment, I stripped off my own bathing suit, then steered with one hand as I stroked my hardon with the other, watching my wife being raped. It was, I told myself, what she wanted. And it was only beginning. The woman who'd had her date's knuckles in her cunt drew him aside, backed against the rail, and made him take her there, squealing her joy as he hammered his cock into her. I was afraid for a moment he'd push her overboard with his thrusts, but she held on to him and he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her away, lowering her to the deck so he could really ram her safely.

My own cock erupted, heavy blobs of cum spattering the deck, and still the orgy went on below on the foredeck. Charlie replaced Mike, thrusting into Jenny like a madman. Her head tossed, and I heard her cries even over the motors.

I was seeing a different Jenny now -- wanton and slutty. It was as if she were making up for all the years of church going and rectitude before she died.

Oh, she'd been a great lover, but we'd been monogamous, and she a virgin when I'd married her. We'd experimented with positions, she'd become a superb cock sucker, and relished it when I'd gone down on her. We'd made love outdoors in the yard, and once in the kitchen, even.

But we'd been totally faithful to each other, and now all that was being thrown away in one final wanton orgy. She'd ordered it up, and I'd delivered it.

I hated myself for that, I hated her for wanting it. I hated myself for enjoying her degradation so much, knowing that later, while the boat rode at anchor, I'd join them and we'd all take her again.

I loved her so much I couldn't deny her final wishes.

I watched as Mimi sucked a river of cum from Jenny's ravished cunt, and wished it were me instead drinking other men's cum from my lovely wife.

Then the men each took one more turn at her before returning to the stern, leaving Jenny dripping with sweat and cum, sagging wearly from her bound wrists.

That evening we anchored in the lee of one of the hundreds of small cays in the northern Bahamas. While the others set out a picnic dinner from their coolers, I went forward with a bottle of water for Jenny.

She was resting as well as she could, obviously exhausted. Cum had dried crusty on her pussy and down the insides of her thighs, but the blindfold was still in place.

"I brought you some water," I greeted her tenderly, hoping she'd talk to me, that we could call this off.

She didn't, of course, only making sucking motions with her sweet lips. I held the bottle to her sucking mouth and let her drink her fill. When she was done I used the rest of the water to wash down her pussy and thighs.

Then I went back to the others.

"How is she?" Darlene asked. She was the one who'd gotten screwed to the deck earlier.

"Not about to quit," I answered.

"Maybe we can change her mind after supper," Mike said. I didn't like his grin, or the way he said it.


I felt the boat surge forward under me as it accelerated, felt it lift. There was only a slight pitch on the gentle seas. The wind dried the sweat on me as I stood, helplessly spread on the foredeck.

I knew Dave could see me from the flying bridge where he piloted. What must I look like to him - a pagan sacrifice perhaps? Was that what I was? A sacrifice to my wanton lusts?

I thought of what was to come next, and shivered.

In moments I'd be naked and helpless, totally vulnerable, aboard a boat with six - no, seven men - and presumably some women, but women who would, at best, leave me to my fate, but were more likely to join in my torment and final extinction.

Two days more, I thought, only two days. I concentrated on the sensations - the sun and wind on my body, the sound and vibration of the boat, the smell of the sea.

I heard them coming, talking and laughing nervously as they made their way past the cabin to the foredeck. They saw me and the conversation faded. I felt them duck under my arms as they surrounded me.

"My God, she's really going to do it," one of the women commented.

"Yeah, but she's over dressed," one of the men noted. Someone pinched me and I flinched, as much as my bindings allowed, but didn't complain. I was a spy, caught by the enemy. I'd never talk.

Someone untied the strap holding my bikini top up and I felt the cups loosen. The tie around my back went next, and I heard someone gasp admiringly as my tits felt the sun strike them, the breeze drying the sweat as my nipples stiffened even more. I couldn't help shift my head, listening, wandering what would be next.

"She's going to get a wicked sunburn if we don't do something for her," one of the women pointed out. Was that Mimi? I put the idea out of my head, not wanting to know which of my friends was here to watch me die.

Someone untied the bottom of my bikini and pulled it off. It stuck to my wet pussy, and then I was naked to the wind and the sun, their eyes, the eyes of any passing boats - were there any passing boats? I had no way of knowing, but I was on display to the whole world.

"She won't need this again," a man said, and I knew he was talking about my bikini, that he'd jettisoned it overboard. Oily hands touched me, stroked me - first one pair, then more, until I was being massaged from neck to toe. Rough, calloused hands were on my breasts one moment, then it was smaller, feminine fingers massaging my breasts. Someone was cupping my ass, fingers probing into the crack even as my lust soared.

A hand slid down my stomach, fingers combing through my pubic hair, curling under to explore the sodden folds of my pussy and I tried to rise on my toes to get away from the invasion.

But of course I couldn't. I was locked into the concrete now, my feet, ankles, shins and calves encased in it. I could barely squirm as they massaged sunscreen into my naked flesh. I whimpered as a finger probed my cunt and someone pinched my nipples, first one then the other. A finger tickled the tight pucker of my anus.

"I've got as good a body as she does," one of the women grumbled, and a man - her man? - dared her to prove it, and there was a rustle of cloth. I knew the woman was getting naked. A man grumbled about the heat and there were bumpings and jostlings - were they all getting naked?

Someone pressed his body against me - a man, he was hard and hairy. I knew they'd find a way, even with me locked in the tub of concrete. I'd kept my feet apart so they could. A cock found my cunt and I moaned as it was driven up into me, filling me. There was no thought of my pleasure, of course, but I hadn't expected it. Hadn't wanted it. He was rough, and harsh, ramming up into me, but I was wet and welcoming.

Before I could come I felt him shooting his cum into me, jerking his cock up into me hard with every pulse. I almost screamed with frustration. I was so close, so close, but I didn't orgasm and I felt him pulling out, felt his semen ooze from my pussy. I wanted to beg for another cock, but held my tongue.

I didn't need to beg. Another man took me and I shuddered as he rammed up into my sodden cunt. I heard moans and squeals and realized that the women - were there two of them? - were satisfying some of the men while the others used me.

I began to cum as the second man unloaded into me, grunting harshly, finally drawing a shuddering breath as he withdrew. Then there was another, and another, and all I could do was stand there and take it. My arms and shoulders ached as they raped me, one after another, on the next to last day of my life.

When they were done I was left limp and exhausted, practically hanging from my wrists as their cum drooled out of my battered pussy.

"Oh, dussum's have an ouchy?" one of the women asked. I flinched as she fingered my bruised pussy. "Would'ums like me to kiss it and make it better.

I shuddered. I'd never had a woman make love to me, even touch me down there, but I was at her mercy.

"Lucky for you," the woman went on, "I like sloppy seconds. I loved watching my husband fuck you, and now I'm going to suck his cum out of you, and I just bet you'll like it, you filthy slut."

I shook my head in denial, even as my body responded to the way she was exploring my sodden twat. I was a cum slut, getting what I deserved, and eventually I'd get my final reward.

But not before I'd suffered every degradation they could inflict on me.

I whimpered as her tongue touched my steaming flesh. Her lips closed on my pussy and she sucked on me, her jaw working as she mouthed my swollen twat. She dug in deep, scooping the cum out of me even as my cunt released wave after wave of my own juices to mix with all the semen pouring from me.

I wailed as yet another orgasm blazed through me. Then they left me hanging weakly from the stays, laughing and joking, as the concrete slowly finished setting, gripping my legs and feet tighter and tighter as afternoon wore on to evening.

By the time we anchored I was totally drained, physically and emotionally and carnally, the cum having dribbled down my thighs and dried to an itchy crust. After a day in the sun and wind, I was parched, so I roused when Dave brought me water.

I knew he was going to try to break my silence. But that would have been sign that I didn't want to go through with this. He should have known better than to even try. I made sucking motions with my dry lips and he sighed and brought the water bottle to my mouth so I could suck from its nipple.

Then he squirted my cunt and thighs down with the rest, making me squirm, reminding me again of my helpless exposure, the stream of water stimulating my tender pussy. His hands stroked the insides of my thighs in an effort to get the cum off.

I loved his touch. He massaged my pussy, too, trying to get some of the rest of the cum off of it, before walking away. I knew he'd be back. I knew they'd all be back. I shivered, thinking of what they might do to me next.

I was hungry, of course, but it didn't matter. I could go a couple of days without food, and after that I'd never be hungry again.


I was trembling myself as we went forward in the darkness. The full moon was a few degrees above the horizon, casting a glowing path across the water, painting Jenny silver against the velvet night.

I shushed them as we passed the cabin and after a few more soft murmurs and whispers we reached the foredeck and moved around her. We surrounded her and just looked for a long, long time. She was so beautiful! Her naked skin was satin-finished silver and velvet shadows in the moonlight. Her nipples were again stiff with arousal, little dark berries capping the gentle mounds of her breasts. Her chest rose and fell, her breathing quick and nervous.

She knew we were there. Her head was up, turning this way and that, her nose seeming to test the air as she listened for us. Her lips were parted slightly, the way they had parted when I petted her before we made love.

Unable to resist it any longer, I touched her cheek, steadied her head, and brought my lips to hers. She kissed me hungrily, but I held back, gentling her before letting the kiss grow harder, more hungry. I slipped my tongue into her mouth and she sucked at me eagerly.

As I cupped the side of her head in my right hand, I touched her side, her ribs with my left, and slid my hand up to capture the soft, warm mound of her breast. My thumb toyed with her already stiff nipple, and I felt her suck in a breath as the little button stiffened even more. I pinched it as the others around me moved in.

They began to fondle her, soothing her, teasing her, arousing her all at the same time. And as we distracted her with those touches, John and Larry began loosening the ropes binding her to the stays.

I felt her tense, heard her whimper into my mouth as they brought her arms down. Her shoulders must have been in agony after she'd spent the day tied the way she had been. I broke the kiss and tried to massage her shoulders a little.

The brakes on the casters were released, and together we turned the tub so Jenny faced the starboard rail. John and Larry guided her hands. She was far from the rail, making her bend forward so she could reach.

Using the same ropes, they tied her hands to the varnished wood. I stood back as Mike squeezed some lubricant on his fingers and began oiling Jenny's asshole. My gut tightened, my cock hard as steel as we prepared to violate Jenny's last virgin opening. He added a second finger and I saw Jenny flinch, heard her moan softly.

She'd never let me in back there, never even let me put my finger up her tail. It was the one opening she'd prohibited to me, but now, unless she said something, she'd get it at last - in the end.

All she had to do was speak, say one word, and she knew I'd stop whatever was going on and we'd return home and I'd somehow get her out of that block of concrete.

But she never said a thing.

After adding a third finger, Mike withdrew them, and oiled up his cock before handing the lotion to someone else.

Then he set the head of his hardon at the dusky rosebud of her asshole and began to drive it in. I watched as she resisted, and then seemed to accept Mike's cock as it burrowed into her ass.

Larry began fondling Jenny's tits, and I couldn't resist reaching under her to feel he swampy cunt, to toy with her clit. Mike's balls nudged my fingers and I knew he was full depth in her. Jenny was whimpering as he stroked his cock in her backside, slowly at first, then faster, and she began to whine, trying to drive herself back on him as best she could.

She was enjoying it!

Mike drove deep and unloaded into her ass with quick, hard spasms, finally falling away. Before I could move, Charlie was filling his place, filling Jenny's asshole with his big cock. The ladies took over fondling Jenny, pinching her titties, rubbing her clit, even sticking the fingers in her cunt as I joined the rest of the men for my turn at butt.

Finally it was my turn and I gripped her hips as I aimed my cock into her well loosened anal passage, and slowly slid my cock into the velvety dark passage so long denied to me.

Somehow, I think she knew it was me. I reamed her with long, slow strokes, savoring the incomparable sensation of her clasping flesh, marveling at how different it felt from her cunt. I curled myself over her warm body, cupping one breast in my left hand while with my right I sought her clit and cunt. I was vaguely aware of the others standing back, giving us space, respecting my union with her.

I didn't bugger her. I just made love to her in a new way for us, weeping myself as I took pleasure in her body, and tried to pleasure her as she was pleasuring me.

No matter how long it might have lasted, it wasn't long enough; eventually I had to cum, filling her ass with powerful, hot spurts until my groin was wrung dry and my cock shriveling. Reluctantly I withdrew, stood up, releasing her with one final caress of her beautiful ass.

It was a while before I realized she was back up, tied once again to the stays, and we were alone together. As the others sat around in the stern recovering, I slipped down to the galley, got a sponge and drew a bucket of warm, soapy water, and returned to the bow.

I took my time, laving every inch of her gently before rinsing her with fresh, clean water, and to hell with the dent it made in our fresh water supply.

When I was done, I kissed her tenderly, and left. Pausing to look back at her standing alone in the moonlight, wondering, praying that she might change her mind.

But I knew in my heart she wouldn't. Tomorrow it would all end for her. And I knew that I was looking forward to it. Not looking forward to being rid of her, because I knew I would miss her desperately.

No. I was looking forward to it because some twisted, perverse part of me wanted to watch her die.


Later I heard them coming back of course, at dusk, their chatter and laughter echoing over the silence of the ocean before Dave shushed them. I steeled myself for the next ordeal, whatever it was to be.

There was no script. I was theirs to do with as they wished, of course. For the first and last time of my life I was yielding control totally to others. From being a control freak I had gone to being a toy, a slave, a victim to be used and discarded.

Their talk faded out to a few murmurs, then nothing. They surrounded me silently, their feet shuffling on the deck. For a long time there was nothing. I could hear their breathing, smell the liquor on their breath. How drunk were they? Drunk enough to abandon all inhibitions? The thought gave me chills. I was desperately horny, breathing hard. I wanted to squirm my thighs against each other, but couldn't, of course. I hungered for a sound from them, a touch, anything, my tension building until I was ready to scream.

The first gentle touch was to my cheek, and I knew it was Dave. Then his mouth closed over mine and I responded with a rush. He drew back, though, controlling the kiss, only slowly responding to my own desperate hunger, until finally we were feasting on each other.

Then, even as his one hand cupped the side of my head, his other hand touched my naked side, slid up to cup my breast, his thumb stroking the stiff, eager nubbin of my nipple. He pinched it and I gasped through the kiss, our breaths mingling.

Then I felt other hands on me, stroking teasing, patting. Someone captured my other breast, hands stroked my ass, a finger exploring the crack, another hand stroking my throbbing pussy. I was hardly aware of it when they began to unfasten my wrists. But they didn't free me, only released the ropes, keeping a grip on my arms as they lowered my arms.

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