Bethany's Sins

Part 6

Bethany no longer knew who she really was for sure; she was sweet thing, she was the girl once known as Bethany, she was Master's little toy, she didn't see any distinction between these identities.

A week after her coming here, she awoke to find her legs free. Only her arms were still bound to the bed. Herrault stood there.

"Good morning. I have decided to give you a name. You are going to be 'slave Bea' from now on. Of course, you should also answer to 'sweet thing', and any other thing I wish to call you. But your name is Bea. Only those meals, drinks and facilities provided for Bea or slave Bea may be used by you. Understood?" Bethany, now Bea, understood all too well after the training she had received when Herrault told her she was "sweet thing". Now, though, she felt as though she had an identity. The name Bethany was gone. It was nice to keep the initial, and she did not mind being "B". Then she saw it written, and realised that she was not a letter, but a real name. A slave. After what had gone before, both parts felt like a wondrous gift. She had a name and an identity again.

And, she was allowed out of bed. The doctor had declared her recovered from her ordeal, and Herrault was eager to demonstrate some things to her.

He unbound her arms from the bed, and made her sit up, holding her wrists firmly in his hands. She looked at him with nothing but uncertainty in her eyes. She did not want to be a slave, she suddenly found, now that she was free of those restraints, and yet she did not want to escape either. She wanted to know what he would do to her next.

His next move was to bind her arms behind her back. He used leather straps around her wrists and elbows, pinning her arms tightly back and thrusting her chest forwards. He stroked her hair and then lifted her to her feet. She was surprised and almost sank to the floor immediately, but he caught her and steadied her. She was surprised at the tenderness of his touch, and the fact that instead of squirming away from his hold as he continued to keep his hands on her, she actually moved slightly closer to him. Then she was stable again, and he released her, pausing a moment to admire her shapely body and her outthrust breasts. Then he ordered her to follow him.

"Yes, Master," was her unthinking response. Herrault began to lead the way, to his car, Bea assumed. As she stepped from the hospital room, however, she was surprised all over again. It was too compact and too plush to be a hospital, or anything that she had ever seen before. Except...

She realised suddenly that she must be on some sort of luxury yacht, and she had been kept in the sickbay for her entire time on board. She knew that it must be quite big, because otherwise she would have noticed the rocking of the waves and recognised much sooner that she was at sea. The hopelessness of her situation dawned on her: there would be no way that she could escape this floating slave dungeon. She followed her captor down the corridor towards whatever part of the ship he wished to show her.

In the end, it was the deck to which he was taking her. There was a lift in place that meant that she did not need to use a ladder, but could ride effortlessly to the open air, with no need for Herrault to allow the use of her arms at any point. She had, of course, been correct in deciding that it was a yacht; and now she could see the wide expanse of blue water that surrounded it. The sun was blazing in the sky, its heat pouring down on her naked skin. She didn't know where in the world she was, nor what time of day it was, but she guessed that she must be somewhere near the tropics, and that it was within a couple of hours of noon.

"Ah, your latest acquisition is up and about, eh, Boss?" The strange male voice suddenly brought to mind Bea's nakedness, and she flinched, wishing that she could use her hands or anything to hide her body from its owner. She looked along the side of the vessel and saw the man approaching. He wore a captain's hat, but was otherwise dressed for the climate in a casual manner. He clearly knew Herrault well, but his accent was unmistakeably Australian. Herrault had clearly built up whatever crew his yacht carried, from trusted men and women from all corners of the globe.

"Indeed, and a treasure to behold, is she not? This one is really special, I can tell you."

"Nice one! Your other beauties are all on the front deck waiting for you! I'll just watch from indoors with the Doc, Sammy and Nige..."

"Don't get too excited, Lou...this is just to get her introduced. There'll be plenty more later, though."

Bea was totally ignored as the two men discussed an imminent sexual encounter between herself and either Herrault, or possibly one of his "other beauties". Helpless as she was, it did not occur to her to interject in the conversation, even, but she simply followed it as best she could. The two men parted, and Herrault guided his "latest acquisition" towards the front of the vessel.

"There are currently five men and six women on board," Herrault explained to his slave, "Myself, Lou, whose experience at sea I find invaluable, the Doctor who cares for anyone on board, Sam who looks after the engines, and Nigel who is a jack of all trades, and an invaluable assistant to me in my work. The women come and go as they please, sometimes there are more and sometimes there are fewer, but they know that they are here for one reason only, and that is sex. They like it, enjoy it, and get free rides around the wealthy pleasure zones of the world. You are the only exception. You are here because you are my slave."

Herrault timed his speech perfectly, so that they opened out onto the front deck just as he finished explaining the yacht's complement. Here, the other five women were relaxing in the sun. None of them wore anything, and there was no need to do so. Although the yacht was at anchor and out in the sea, it was not currently at any of those places where the pleasure boats of the fabulously rich would congregate. There was a faint sliver of land visible at one point on the horizon, but the chances were miniscule that anyone not actually on the boat would see them. And, as Herrault had said, the women were there for one thing only, which was to give sexual satisfaction to the male crew members (or each other, if they so wished). Here, they were just laid out on an expanse of wooden (or fake wooden) decking, lying on towels or lounge beds and soaking up the rays. Bea had imagined that they would all be blonde with big tits, but in fact only one fit that stereotypical image. All were slim or athletic, with wondrous curves; but two were from the Indian subcontinent, it seemed, one was Japanese, and the last was black-haired and blue-eyed. Only the blonde and one of the Indian women sported breasts that Bea would have called large, the others tending to be in the C-cup region. Bea realised that she herself fit perfectly the image that Herrault seemed to like most in a woman. No wonder she had been chosen by him! She recognised that the blonde had been the one who brought her the poisoned soup, and a couple of the others had also posed as nurses during her treatment. The one who had seemed so strong was the taller of the Indians, a very athletic figure but still incredibly sexy. Bea recalled that she had forced her to drink her own pee. There was no doubt in her mind that these women were well aware of Bea's status on the ship, and that no amount of appealing to a sense of sisterhood could save her. After all, they had already collaborated so efficiently in her torture and confinement, why should they change now?

"Okay, girls!" Herrault called out, "Let's give Bea memorable welcome, just like we planned!"