The Humbled

Title Page

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Cover Art © 2006 YPVS

Indian Ocean near the Gulf of Aden

“I have what you want. The hands thing really isn’t necessary.”

Evenly intoned words of reason as the woman nods towards a duffle bag, keeping her arms well over her head. The AK-47 dips as the miscreant of the seas turns his head to briefly glance in the indicated direction. Near the stern of the ketch lies a package of interest. Greenbacks peek through the partially opened zipper.

“Do I need to count it?” he grins, the inflection of his question suggesting a playful familiarity.

The woman puts her hands down.

“Enough of this game. You need to celebrate and I have a full day’s sail back to the Seychelles. While you take the cash and enjoy, avoiding your pirate brethren will be a task for me.”

“I’ve arranged for passage. ‘Tall woman of color in a blue and white ketch’. Once I relay the message that you’ve paid, you’ll have no trouble. Yes, we are notorious but our word of ‘no harm’ is our stock in trade.”

The woman nods, noting that the pirate’s young companion stares at her breasts. With lowered hands the massive glands press firmly and seem to strain the tight white halter top. The boy gawks. Then his eyes lower to view muscular but well shaped thighs, the brief cotton shorts unveiling puissant femininity.

“Does he speak English, Rafael?”

“Some. He’s just not accustomed to women. Many weeks at sea.”

“He’s handsome. Better than his picture. Tell him to lower the gun.”

There follows a command barked in the Somali tongue and the confused lad lowers his weapon. Then Rafael gestures for him to approach.

“It’s not loaded. But he has not needed to know that,” Rafael comments as the lad steps toward him in response, his confusion growing as the woman captive becomes authoritative.

There follows a quick, well aimed swing of Rafael’s AK-47. The stock glances off the side of the lad’s skull. The woman instantly steps forth as the recipient’s knees buckle, her reaction assuring no further harm as powerful arms effortlessly guide the lithe form to the deck.

“Not much to him. I’ll need to inspect and photograph... as agreed.”

Rafael laughs, seeming more relaxed as the subterfuge ends.

“Our forced camaraderie makes for intimacy... a male bonding thing. We’ve too often bathed in proximity. He meets your criteria, I assure you.”

Mocha hands work to loosen the simple tie at the waist of the pantaloons. Rafael notes the degree of proficiency and smiles. The large, powerful woman has stripped men naked many times before.

Within seconds a long flaccid p***s greets the bright sun of the Indian Ocean.

“Uncirced... a nice bonus,” the woman casually notes as a knowing hand gently pinches the tip and unfurls the impressive length. A ruler appears from nowhere, standing at the ready ostensibly for the day’s catch. The woman pulls firmly to assure that the male organ is unraveled to be fully stretched for measurement.

“Click a couple of shots while I hold him at full length.”

As one hand pulls, the other wields the ruler to demarcate just as one would ascertain the size of a captured fish. A digital camera clicks to record the finding. The woman knows that despite the organ’s flaccidity, her attention assures that the semi conscious lad unwillingly reveals what she needs to offer as evidence. Ironically, even when stiff and fully engorged, the male appendage will not grow past the length fostered by the tension of her experienced grip.

“Ten inches. You’ve done well for us, Rafael,” she compliments as she releases it in order to stand.

Rafael chuckles and picks up the duffle bag as the woman bends again. An exposed thigh endures the quick prick of a hypodermic needle. The dazed form spasmodically flinches.

“Remember Rafael, it may not be as lucrative as hijacking a commercial vessel, but it’s quicker and much less dangerous,” the woman notes with a laugh. “What will you tell his family?”

“He fell over board,” comes the succinct reply. “A tragic drowning.”

Rafael lugubriously shrugs then steps over the gunnel to return to his motor launch. Stowing his prize of cash, he again utilizes the Somali tongue to radio the completion of his mission. Meanwhile the lad senses the warming forced relaxation of the injection of atropine and settles back, his chemically enfeebled muscles ensuring that he helplessly watches as the woman deprives him of all clothing. Yes, she has stripped many.

“You’ve been deceived, my boy. Sold into slavery. The tables have turned.”

The motor launch roars to life. The drugged captive can only look up in awe as the smiling woman rights herself to proudly tower over him. There comes a look of Schadenfreude as she turns her head to watch Rafael’s high speed launch accelerate.

“But Rafael’s deception is comparatively modest.”

The woman reaches to retrieve a black electrical box. She tugs to de-telescope a small antenna then points it toward the departing skiff. A thumb presses and, despite the dose of atropine, the lad lurches to the sound of a thundering explosion.

“My deceit, in turn, is rather drastic... wouldn’t you say? The bag contained more dynamite than dollars.”

A hand lowers and taps the lad’s nose as one would offer affection to a puppy.

“Yes... you fell overboard... and poor Rafael has had a problem with a fuel leak. Tsk. Tsk. Bad day for the Somali pirates.”

A bare foot lifts, moves to the groin and deftly flips up the long strip of uncircumcised male flesh, better revealing the virile scrotal sac to the smirking feminine gaze. As Rafael’s burning launch slowly sinks, the woman finds casual joy in using her bare toes to toy with the exposed and helpless symbol of male ‘superiority’. She finds elation when the organ begins to firm, despite the lad’s wounded head and her injection.

“But don’t feel sorry for Rafael. I suspect you will soon envy his fate.”

The woman turns and from a stowage box fetches a mass of clanking metal.

“Now, let’s get you properly dressed, shall we?”

Dilated eyes gape at a ponderous collection of chains and cuffs. Despite the intense heat of the tropics... despite the calming atropine... the perception of being forcibly adorned with chilling metal brings a shudder. Yet he stiffens more.