The Isle of Women

Chapter One-3

The captain looked her up and down. “I’ll say one thing, you’re a pretty girl, the prettiest I’ve seen in many a long year. So if you are nice to me, I may be nice back. But don’t you dare cross me or you’ll be sorry.”

He stood up and began to undo his breeches. He reached inside and pulled out his c**k. “On your knees, girl, and suck me. You’d better be good.”

Augusta didn’t bother to disguise her distaste. She got down, took the c**k in her hand and put it to her lips. It smelled none too clean. Perhaps she could persuade him to wash now and again. She peeled back the foreskin and took it in her mouth. She had spent a long time sucking Lawrence’s c**k, a thing of beauty, to her mind. She began to suck the captain in the same way, delicately, slowly and sensually. But this apparently was not what was required. The captain grabbed her by the hair and thrust his c**k in deep, right to the back of her throat. She began to choke, and struggled for air, but the captain twisted her hair, forcing her head back, ramming in his c**k still further. At last he pulled back and Augusta gasped for air, but a moment later the c**k was forced into her mouth again. The captain now began to f**k her mouth with rapid thrusts. Soon her jaws were aching, but mercifully it was not long before he came, ejaculating into her mouth with a stream of thick semen. She pulled her mouth away as soon as she could, and spat it out onto the floor. The captain laughed.

“Don’t like it?” he said. “You’ll spit a gallon of spunk before I’ve done with you.”

He buttoned himself up and Augusta quickly put her clothes back on. Now that his desire was quenched, he seemed prepared to be almost human. He offered her some bread and cheese, and a glass of beer, both of which she took eagerly, not knowing when she might see food again. At least the beer took away the sour taste of his semen in her mouth. He watched her as she ate, perhaps not able to believe his luck in having at his disposal such a pretty girl.

“Captain,” said Augusta, hoping to take advantage of any improvement in his mood, “is it possible that I could speak with my friend? Just for a moment to reassure him that I am here?”

“No,” said the captain sharply. “Don’t even think of it. You are going to stay hidden here, and that’s that.”

Her heart fell. “Well, perhaps I might be allowed to send him a note? A very discreet one?”

“I’ll think about it,” the captain replied. He got up to go. “I’m going up on deck. We’re casting off soon. Make sure you stay here. If you leave this cabin, you will leave the ship, for good.”

“Very well,” she said. Augusta settled into her little bunk. She pulled up the shift in which she slept and stroked her belly, then pushed her hand lower, running her fingers through the bush of curly hair. She began to masturbate; she found it comforting as well as pleasurable. She slid a finger lower still, slipping it between the lips of her cunt. She was shocked to find herself wet. How could this be? She had just sucked the c**k of a man she felt no liking for, no respect, whom she found personally repugnant. It was not possible to be aroused by such a thing. And yet there it was; her body had betrayed her. She felt ashamed. But it didn’t stop her from wanting to touch herself. In fact, it made the pleasure all the sweeter. As she rubbed her swollen clit images of the captain’s engorged c**k came unbidden into her mind, and immediately she orgasmed.

By the time the captain returned, she was fast asleep, curled up in her little cubbyhole. When she awoke the next morning, she wondered for a moment where she was, then she felt the rolling of the ship. The captain was nowhere to be seen. An hour later he reappeared, by which time Augusta was dressed in her scruffy men’s clothing and had managed to wash her face in a bowl and otherwise attend to her toilet, though she had none of her feminine things, no hairbrush, no perfume, no rouge for her cheeks. Fortunately, she thought, the captain was not the kind of man to notice such things.

He pulled her towards him and kissed her on the mouth. Even this early in the morning, she could smell the drink on his breath. He put his hand up to her breast and squeezed, then laughed. “I’m going to enjoy this trip,” he said, “even though my cargo is nothing but a bunch of scurvy convicts.”

He sat down at the table. “I’ve been thinking,” he said. “I don’t believe this can work unless I take the cabin boy into my confidence. He’s bound to find out sooner or later; he needs to be in and out of here all the time.”

“Can you trust him?”

“I’ll put the fear of god into him,” the captain said. He put his head back and roared “Boy” at the top of his voice. In a moment Augusta heard small feet scurrying along the corridor and the door opened. The boy she had seen the previous day entered, then stopped, his mouth open in amazement.

“Shut that door,” the captain barked. “Now this here is a special friend of mine. Despite what you see her wearing, she is in fact a woman, a very fine woman. She has particular reasons for being on this voyage and I have particular reason for accommodating her. It’s no concern of yours what those reasons are. You need to be clear about one thing, and one thing only. Her presence here is a secret. You will not tell a living soul. If you do, and you know this is no idle threat, I will tear out your eyeballs and feed them to you, then I will cut off your willy and shove it up your arsehole. Do you understand?”

Augusta could see that the poor boy was actually shaking with fear. “No, sir, yes, sir,” he stammered.

“You will look after her as well as me. Bring her vittles. But don’t let on to anyone that you are getting extra food. Do it secretly.”

“Yes, sir,” the boy repeated.

“If she wants anything doing, you will do it, like washing. But quietly, without anyone noticing. And if anyone questions you, you play innocent, you understand? Not a hint to anyone.”

“Yes, sir, I understand, sir,” said the boy, still quaking in his boots.

“Now get us some breakfast,” the captain said.

The boy brought bread and butter, cheese and a cut of beef, with some tea. Augusta and the captain ate in silence. Then the captain pushed his plate away.

“Show me your t**s, girl,” he said.

Augusta hesitated. “Captain, may we discuss this? I realise that you have absolute power over me, and that I am in no position to bargain. But it will be a long voyage. I venture that things will go better between us if there is a measure of courtesy and politeness, and consideration.”

The captain looked surly. “Consideration for what?”

“Let me put it this way,” Augusta said, choosing her words carefully. “You may use me as you please. I cannot resist. But, if there are some conditions observed, I shall be much more disposed to be nice, to give you those things which you specially enjoy, even to offer you some refinements you may not have previously encountered.”

“Refinements? What refinements? I thought you were a gentlewoman, not a w***e who knows all the tricks.”

“I may not know all the tricks, but I have a good imagination, and I am not a prude.”

“What conditions, then?”

“Firstly, you confine your demands to once a day. For an hour, I will do anything you wish. But the rest of the day I shall be left in peace.”

The captain considered this. “Anything?”

“Provided you do me no harm.”

“What else?”

“You keep yourself moderately clean, so that your person does not offend me.”

The captain looked displeased. No one likes to be told they are dirty. “It’s not easy staying clean on a ship.”

“Do your best,” she said. “I ask no more.”

“What else?

“You do not force yourself upon me. I will do anything you ask, but in my own time, easily and pleasantly. I will suck your c**k to your heart’s content, but not if I am half choked to death.”

“Some sluts like it that way,” the captain growled.

Augusta smiled. “This slut does not.”

“I don’t like being told by a chit of a girl what I can do and not do.”

“I’m only making suggestions about how to make things better for both of us.”

“Suppose I like it rough?” the captain said.

Augusta shrugged her shoulders. “I can only try,” she said, resigned to her fate.

“So now show me your t**s,” the captain said. Augusta unbuttoned her shirt and pulled it open. She stared the captain in the eye, trying to shame him. She had no power to resist brute force, only some hope that there was a better side to him.

The captain smiled. “Now I’ve made my point,” he said. “You can put them away for the time being.” She did up her shirt. The captain smiled at her, the first time he had done so. “They are awful pretty t**s,” he added. “You can’t blame me for wanting to look at them.”

Things settled down into a kind of a routine after that. Sometimes the captain was almost agreeable, and she made things easy for him. She knew he wanted to bugger her. She had invited Lawrence to use her that way, and together they had experimented in how to do it without discomfort. When the captain insisted, she lubricated herself with some butter from the table and bent herself double and took his c**k and eased it in slowly. But it still hurt her, because once inside her ass the captain got excited and began to f**k hard. She cried out in protest, though not loudly in case she was discovered. The captain took no notice; if anything, her cries served to inflame his lust still further and he thrust into her furiously. It was little other than a rape. Fortunately, the tightness of her opening made him come quickly and no damage was done.

She felt anger, not least because she knew she could do little to resist such assaults. And yet, when the captain had gone up on deck, and she had lifted her skirt to clean herself, she saw that she was once more wet, little beads of slippery moisture seeping from between the lips of her cunt. Even a rape excites me, she thought. Surely that is not right! But right or not, her body seemed to have a mind of its own. After she had quickly relieved the urgency of her lust (another effect of the captain’s treatment of her) she got to thinking. Perhaps, she reasoned, it’s because I have been without s*x for so long that even a man as gross as the captain was capable of arousing some desire. When she had Lawrence, she was in the habit of f*****g two or three times a week, and never without an orgasm for herself, sometimes two or three in quick succession. The sudden and enforced celibacy of recent weeks must have inflamed her in unforeseen and unsanctioned ways. Otherwise, how could she be aroused by being buggered in such a brutal manner?

Sometimes the captain took her by bending her over on the kitchen table and pushing straight into her cunt, f*****g her furiously. She didn’t mind this; rear entry was her favourite position; a c**k went in so deep. Once or twice, though the memory still shocked her, she had been excited enough to come, though she disguised it, keeping silent, trying to control the spasms. It would be too, too shaming if that awful man thought she was aroused by him.

What was most difficult was when he had been drinking a lot. Then he would always want oral s*x, but the drink affected him, making it hard to ejaculate. He would thrust harder and harder into her mouth, choking her as he had done the first time, till she gasped for breath. And he would get angry at his inability to come, smacking her face hard, twisting her n*****s, pulling her hair. As the voyage went on, the captain seemed to drink more and more, and his mood turned uglier.