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Chapter 2: Storm and Clearing
In the afternoon I took a long nap below with Rafiq. I was trying to get myself more on his schedule. He seemed naturally to be a night person.
The schedule for watching the helm was 0500 to 1200, morning shift, Skipper sometimes spelled by Ivy, who knew at lot; 1200-2100, afternoon and evening, James, again sometimes spelled by Ivy, and with April increasing being entrusted for some periods of time; and 2100-0500, the night shift, Rafiq. Nobody thought I was qualified to be responsible for the boat by myself. ...By the way, it was the Skipper who insisted we tell time on the 24-hour rather than the 12-hour scale.
When I awoke, I had the feeling that something was afoot on deck. I left Rafiq asleep, and as I emerged above, I was shocked to see April, stripped completely naked, bound hands over head, a cloth gag across her mouth, and James, wielding a whip on her.
It was not the cat-o’-nine-tails used on me. It was a short single thong whip, very flexible, probably of some synthetic material. From the speed with which he flicked it on her, I sensed that it was lightweight.
James was going after April’s butt. The whip left only faint pink marks, and from April reactions I didn’t get the sense that it was unbearably painful.
Nevertheless, she was really upset, yelling muffled through her gag. I know April, and I knew that she had no previous experience with corporal punishment. I felt torn. I didn’t know whether I should try to intercede on her behalf.
Ivy was watching, agitated. Her wrists were bound before her with leather handcuffs. The Skipper standing next to her, seeming to monitor Ivy’s reaction as much as he was watching April’s whipping.
I felt certain that the Skipper and James were not going to tolerate any interference from me. Trying to do anything would probably just land me another whipping, and I really didn’t want that. Especially not now, since yesterday’s whip marks were still visible, even though the welts had receded. My nipples were still sensitive.
So I just watched, feeling helpless. James had switched to the front of her thighs, lashing her over and over again. April was twisting and turning, trying to avoid the strokes. I knew he was trying to get her between the legs, but she kept them together to protect herself.
“Now I want to see you dance,” said James, standing before her. “Come on, shake it.”
April shook her head. James lashed her twice across the stomach, then across the ribs. I wondered if he would whip her breasts. Her big jugs looked like a tempting target.
April protested as loudly as she could through her gag, but James was insistent, “Dance. Dance. Shake it!”
After the another whip stroke landed just below her breasts, she acquiesced and began rocking her hips rhythmically. James let up with the whip for a moment, then started giving her light strokes on her hips in rhythm with her dance.
April continued to dance. She wasn’t putting a whole lot into it; she kept her legs together, and her jugs swayed only a little. But for now James seemed reasonably satisfied. He started to feel up her ass while she rocked her hips.
April didn’t seem too distressed at this point, but she certainly didn’t look happy about it either. Although I certainly didn’t want to trade places with her, I did sort of wonder how I would do in her situation. Coerced with a whip into performing naked. All eyes on your body.
Giving her a couple hard slaps on the butt, James said, “Come on, put your body into it. Shake that booty!”
Moving her legs apart, April started putting more into it. Her jugs started swaying back and forth.
Taking hold of her nipples and jiggling her breasts, James said, “Come on. Shake those big boobs. I want to see them flop.”
April waggled her big jugs back and forth in wide flopping sweeps. I wondered how she felt about being made to do that. I wondered how I would do in that situation. And I wondered if how much I can shake my breasts would have much allure.
Dangling the whip before her, James never took his eyes of her. Then he flicked it lightly at her breasts a few times. Voicing muffled complaints through her gag, April recoiled away from the strokes while continuing her gyrations.
As she rocked her hips, James then slid his hand along the inside of her thigh and into her crotch. April tightened her legs together, trimming her undulations and finally stopping altogether. Through her gag I thought she said, “Let me go.”
Left hand at her pussy, James scored the whip onto her hip, wrapping around onto her rear. April continued her muffled complaints.
As he continued to harass her, she lifted her leg, set a foot to his stomach and gave him a kick that sent him stumbling backward. He fell against the bulkhead.
Although he got up slowly, rubbing the back of his head where he hit it, he seemed to take it in good humor. He was smiling, and muttering something about how much he liked strong women. But he stopped going after her pussy.
Instead, he started whipping her breasts. April was twisting and lurching trying to dodge the strokes, all the while crying out incoherently through her gag. Now her big jugs were really bouncing. She tried to kick at him, but James stayed out of range of her feet as he laid on stroke after stroke. Her breasts were getting flushed.
Finally, April ceased her struggles and muffled yells, and just stood there sobbing as James continued lashing her breasts. This was just unbearable; I was going to have to try to intercede.
Just as I was about to step forward, James laid off. He dropped the whip and gave her a hug, with consoling words. Perhaps April’s sobbing acquiescence was not the kind of response that aroused him to further whip her.
When he ungagged her and released her wrists, she turned away from him, and with Ivy immediately retreated below to our compartment. I followed them down to console her. But they had locked the door and wouldn’t let me in.
I was afraid to return to the deck and be alone the Skipper and James. I thought they might whip me next. I stayed below in the galley and made dinner. All the while I felt bad for April. And I felt bad for myself that she wouldn’t even allow me in to offer comfort.
I must have been really on edge, because when the Skipper suddenly appeared in the galley doorway, I let out a startled yelp.
I quickly apologized. “Sorry. I was just startled.”
“No problem. Just came down for some rum. You doing all right? Need any help?”
“No, sir. Things will be ready in fifteen or twenty minutes.”
“Good. You’re the best damned cook. Yeah. Best damn cook I ever had aboard.”
That was blatant nonsense. My cooking was elementary, especially compared to Ivy’s, which had been surprisingly elegant. At that time I hadn’t had much experience at it. But it seemed that the Skipper was using praise to reassure me of his benign intentions.
After rummaging around the galley for a couple minutes, then pouring himself some rum and taking several gulps, he spoke, in a manner sort of to himself, but with the obvious intention that I should hear, “That James... I don’t know about that boy. Doesn’t seem to have good judgment. Tried to warn him about whipping April. I guess I didn’t make myself clear.”
Then turning and looking straight at me, he said, “Jenny, you know, there’s a certain kind of girl you can whip. And a certain kind of girl you can’t. You gotta be able to recognize the difference. The right kind of girl, when you whip her, she’ll be the best damn girl ever. Yeah, the best damn girl ever. But you gotta know the right time to whip her. And you gotta do it the right way.”
With that he turned and scuffed out of the galley. I just stood there, dazed. The right kind of girl to whip? Was he referring to me?
********
The next morning April treated James with an icy reserve, despite his repeated advances. Meanwhile, I was feeling that I needed to talk with another woman about what the Skipper had said to me. I wanted to talk to April. But not with Ivy there. Ivy hated me. And today Ivy never left April’s side.
This question, about whether there was some right kind of girl to whip, is not something I wanted to bring up with Rafiq. I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to like what he had to say. I had a feeling that he wouldn’t be that sympathetic.
Indeed, it seemed more likely that he would just encourage me to enjoy getting whipped. Last night I had told him of my past experiences with corporal punishment (as related in other stories on this website). Although he had tried to convey sympathy, he was plainly aroused by the erotic overtones.
In any case, I was feeling isolated. And vulnerable. Otherwise the day was relatively uneventful... until early evening just before dinner.
I was down in the girls compartment. I kept my clothes in there but I didn’t sleep there any more with April and Ivy. Instead I liked sharing Rafiq’s berth, although it was a tight squeeze and in his sleep he sometimes mashed me against the wall.
At this time I was sorting through my clothes. Ivy came in. I had grown accustomed to maintaining silence with her.
But after couple minutes, she confronted me, saying, “Hey, slut bitch. See this safety pin? I think I’m gonna stick it through your clit.”
I wasn’t much afraid that Ivy could actually do that. But I was concerned that she might try to scratch me with the open safety pin. I tried to mollify her.
“Oh, Ivy. I’ve told you how sorry I am about what happened between you and Rafiq. I would never have been so friendly with him in the first place if I had known that it would cause you two to break up.” Actually, I don’t know whether that last statement was true. At this point, I really wanted and needed Rafiq as my own. How could I have foregone him?
I continued, “And I’m not a slut either. I’ve barely even gone to bed with Rafiq ...I mean, like technically.”
And that was sort of true, a result of the lack of privacy. When we were about to do it once on deck in the middle of the night, the Skipper came out and partook of his strange night-time habit of pissing over the bulkhead. We did it once under the covers in Rafiq’s berth, but since the guys’ bedroom also serves as everyone’s living room, the distraction of wondering if somebody was about to walk in on us made it less than ideal, at least for me. Finally, the girls’ compartment doesn’t work for me because it’s imbued with Ivy’s vibes.
“You are a slut, you rotten bitch. You fuck for every guy you see. That’s why I’m going to try to slow you down by safety pinning your clit.” She waved the pin toward my crotch.
“Get away from me with that thing. ...And I don’t fuck for every guy I see. I’ll bet you’ve gone to bed with a lot more guys than I have. A whole lot more.”
I was sure she had to be more experienced than me. I had sexual relations with only one guy before this, Mick (who I’ve mentioned in three previous stories). ...Well, there was a sort of encounter with one guy before Mick, but that was a mistake, and a bummer, so I don’t count that. ...In any case, I’m pretty cautious compared to a lot of girls I know.
Ivy continued closing in on me, threatening with that safety pin. I retreated and fell back onto April’s berth, raising my legs to defend myself. Ivy thrust her pin at me. I let out a shriek when she scratched my calf. I gave her a hard kick in the stomach. Ivy cried out, but pressed forward again. Spontaneously screeching the whole time, I continued kicking at her.
At that moment the Skipper burst through the door, followed by Rafiq and James. Instantly they separated us.
“Brawling!” the Skipper bellowed. His face was red with anger. “I won’t tolerate brawling among my crew. Up on deck immediately. A whipping for both of you.”
Whatever punishment I received would be worth it if Ivy got the same. Yet I wondered how she would take it compared to me. Would she retain her composure? Would I end up begging and weeping?
When we got out on deck, the Skipper ordered, “Strip off your tops, both of you.” After a few moments of hesitation I took off my tank top; Ivy took off her bikini top. We stood side by side, bare breasted, facing the guys.
The Skipper took out a nasty looking slender tawse-like black strap, and a long, thin cane. After eyeing us for several moments, the Skipper continued, “Now the rest. Take it down.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Ivy to see if she was going to strip completely, which is what I thought the Skipper had told us to do, although I wasn’t quite sure. She didn’t move. I wasn’t going to strip if she didn’t.
“Do you understand?” asked the Skipper. “Ivy, off with your bikini bottom. Jenny, off with your shorts and whatever you have underneath. Any more delay and I’ll whip your breasts.”
That was unequivocal. Without hesitation, I took down my shorts and undies. Then both of us stood naked while the guys looked us over. Now I wished that we hadn’t shaved ourselves that second night on the boat. It just made me feel that much more exposed.
James had his eyes on Ivy. The Skipper mostly studied my body. Rafiq’s gaze shifted back and forth between Ivy and me. I felt he was comparing my body with hers, and I didn’t like that one bit.
The Skipper said, “Well, Jenny, I see that the other day’s whip marks from the cat on your tits have disappeared.”
“Please sir, don’t whip me there now.”
“Where don’t you want me to whip you?”
“Not on the breasts, sir, please.” I knew he just wanted to hear me say ‘tits’ or ‘breasts’. I didn’t care what he made me say. I just didn’t want that wicked looking cane slicing onto my girl flesh.
“We’ll see what happens this afternoon, Jenny. But for now you are to turn around and get down on all fours. ...You too, Ivy.”
We turned around and got down on our hand and knees.
“Elbows down on the deck. Bottom up,” continued the Skipper. “Arch your back, Ivy. Get that butt up there like you really want to receive the punishment you deserve. That’s better. ...Knees further apart, Jenny. This is no time for modesty. ...That’s good. A nice stable position.”
So there we were, weight resting on forearms and knees, butts elevated, waiting for a whipping. With knees well apart I knew we must be putting on an interesting show. I wondered if my labia were staying closed, minimizing what they could see. But I knew that was the least of my worries now.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see the Skipper preparing to swat Ivy with the strap. After eyeing her for several moments, he swung it into her. Whap! Ivy gasped. Her hand went back, rubbing her rear.
After a moment, the Skipper said, “Enough of that. Get that hand back where it belongs. There’s more to come.”
Ivy resumed her position. ...Whap! She winced, but maintained her position. ...Whap! “Ah!” ...Whap! “Ow!” ...Whap! “Ow! Shit. Be careful where you’re hitting.” ...Whap! “Ow! Fuck. Not there. Oooh...” Ivy brought her hand back and crumpled low, gasping. He must have hit her on the pussy. We were so vulnerable in this position. There were tears in her eyes, but she was trying not to cry.
“Now Jenny, it’s your turn,” said the Skipper.
I grimaced, waiting. ...Whap! I inhaled sharply, but suppressed vocalization. I didn’t want to come across as being weaker than Ivy. ...Whap! I was gasping and panting, suppressing the impulse to bring my hand back to protect my butt. ...Whap! My butt was burning. ...Whap! “Ooh!” That one was on the backs of the thighs. ...Whap! “Ahhh! Owww...” The end of the strap had caught my pussy. I brought my hand back momentarily.
“Back into position,”ordered the Skipper. “There’s one more to come.”
Whap! “Ahhhhh! Ow-ow-ow...” Right smack on the pussy, really hard. The intensity was electric. Like Ivy, I folded low to the deck gasping, but trying to suppress the sobs that wanted to issue forth.
“Bravely taken, both of you. Good girls. I’ll give you a few minutes respite before your caning.”
Whipping on the genitals seemed so unjust. And I couldn’t believe there was more to come now. I remained curled up, prostrate, gently rubbing my burning labia, just trying not to give way to tears.
My head was turned away from Ivy, and I had no thought of her. But I later learned that her feeling of despair matched my own at this point.
After a while the Skipper said, “Now we’ll have you stand up. Since you two wanted to have at each other, perhaps it’s appropriate to have each of you administer the cane to the other.”
I glanced over at Ivy. She was getting up. She glanced over at me with a look of revulsion. I got up quickly.
Skipper said, “All right Ivy, bend over and hold the bulkhead. Jenny will give you a caning.”
Ivy hesitated, looking at me angrily. “I won’t have her cane me. Absolutely not.”
“Yes, Jenny’s going to cane you. Absolutely.”
I spoke up, “I don’t want to cane her.”
Skipper gave me a withering look as he handed me the cane. “You will obey orders.” Then turning to the James and Rafiq, he said, “Bind Ivy’s wrists to the boom. ...Arms apart, crux style. I don’t want her twisting and turning, trying to avoid Jenny’s strokes.”
They tied a rope around each wrist, then secured the opposite ends far apart on the boom. Ivy’s arms were drawn apart, raised about thirty degrees from horizontal. Looking at her in that position, her body was awesome.
I glanced at Rafiq. His eyes were glued to Ivy. I felt a wave of jealousy. But I tried to convince myself that I was still the one he loved. ...That even though Ivy and I were both equally naked, it was only the magnetic quality of a bound woman that drew his eyes.
“Twelve strokes with the cane, vigorous applied. Proceed, Jenny,” ordered the Skipper.
I positioned myself to apply cane strokes to Ivy’s rear. I wasn’t sure I could go through with this. I hesitated. ...Finally I said, “I can’t do this. It isn’t right.”
The Skipper grabbed his strap and came at me. He cocked his arm; looking right at my breasts. I dropped the cane drew my arms across my chest. Whap! Whap! Whap! Protecting my breasts, my arms took the force of the strokes.
He had backed me against the bulkhead. Whap! “Ow!” He had landed that on the front of my thighs. I raised and turned in one knee to try to protect my privates. Whap! Whap!
“You self-righteous little goody-goody! Don’t tell me what’s right. You steal Ivy’s guy, cause her all kinds of grief, and then you have the nerve to tell me that you can’t obey my rightful order to discipline her for brawling. Now I’m going to teach you something.” His words stung as much as the strap.
Turning to James and Rafiq, he said, “Hold her arms out against the bulkhead, I’m going whip her tits and pussy till she learns to obey.”
As James stepped forward to seize my left arm, Rafiq intervened, staying the Skipper’s hand, “Now wait just a god-damn minute. This is getting out of hand. I’m not letting you harm Jenny.”
“Harm Jenny? Who said anything about harming Jenny? I’m disciplining her. Understand? I’m fed up with the hostility between these two girls. Now they’re going whip each other until they decide they can live together aboard my ship. Now take hold of her arm. I know what I’m doing.”
Rafiq glared at the Skipper. The Skipper, drawn to his full height, his jaw set with determination, stared him down. Annunciating each word slowly, the Skipper said, “Jenny needs this. I know how to take care of her.”
Rafiq eyed him for a moment, then looked at me, searching. I don’t know what Rafiq read from my expression, but whatever it was, he acquiesced and gently took my right arm, which I surrendered to him. They held my arms back against the bulkhead. I was on my knees, facing the Skipper.
Whap! “AHHHH!” He smacked the strap straight onto my left nipple.
Whap! “OHHHHH! Oh god!” Laid into my right nipple, so hard. My breasts were on fire.
“Open your legs wider.”
I obeyed, whimpering, “Please no, please.”
Whap! Right into my pussy. “OOOOH!” ...Then again. Whap! “AHHHHH! ...Please stop! I’ll do what you say. I’ll whip Ivy. Just don’t hit me there any more.” I realized that Ivy was going to get caned one way or another. I was only undergoing this agonizing strapping to prove, to myself as much as anyone else, that I was being forced to administer it.
“That’s a good girl, Jenny,” said the Skipper. “Now one more to make sure.”
Whap! So hard on the pussy. “OW-OW-OW! ...Oh-my-god.” I felt faint.
As they released my arms, I dropped to the deck, softly crying, nursing my pussy. I didn’t care what kind of a show I was putting on.
After several minutes I glanced up. The Skipper was watching me patiently, Rafiq sympathetically. April looked distressed. Ivy, bound to the boom, looking over her shoulder at me, revealed nothing in her expression.
Finally I got up. The Skipper handed me the cane. He said to Ivy, “Arch your back. Get your bottom out there nicely. That’s good. You know you need this caning.”
The cane was thin and surprisingly light. But it was the longest cane I’d ever seen. I positioned myself and placed the cane on Ivy’s rear. I hoped I could handle it accurately.
I drew it back. Then swung it into her. It hit her, mid- rear. Ivy didn’t flinch.
“That’s not nearly hard enough. Start over. Don’t you hold back unless you want me to belabor your tits and pussy again.”
“Please no. I’m trying to do it right, sir.” I gave him the most plaintive expression I could.
The Skipper smiled and muttered something that sounded like “What a gem.”
Again I placed the cane to Ivy’s rear. Then drew it back. This time I swung hard. Whoosh-thack! Ivy gasped loudly and writhed. I had hit her lower than I intended, across the top of her thighs. She glanced back at me, but the only thing I could read in her expression was pain.
I paused. Then took aim more carefully. Whoosh-thack! Right across the middle of her butt. She gasped again, and panted.
Whoosh-thack! “Ooh!” ...Then again. And again. One hard stroke after another, with the Skipper quietly counting them out. Ivy recoiled with each one. By the ninth stroke Ivy’s rear was fully marked with horizontal stripes. Her cries were increasingly desperate. I paused and looked at the Skipper.
“Three more to go.” He passed his hand over her rear, feeling the welts. I noticed that his other hand was on her breasts. “You’re doing very well Ivy.”
He stepped back and nodded to me. I took aim and swung the cane. Whoosh-thack! “OW! Oh god! It hurts.”
There seemed to be no more room on her rear for more strokes. The next I aimed to the back of her thighs. Whoosh-thack! “OOOOH!” ...And the last. Whoosh-thack! “AHHHHH!” She hung there quietly crying.
I felt bad for her. I considered apologizing. But I knew I was next, and I thought that anything I could say might be taken as insincere. I expected no mercy from her.
As James and Rafiq released her, the Skipper put a supporting arm around her. “Bravely taken, Ivy.” He held her for several minutes, as Ivy rubbed her rear and regained her composure.
Still holding her, the Skipper turned to Rafiq and James and said, “Bind Jenny to the boom. When Ivy feels ready, she will administer the caning.”
They bound my wrists with ropes and drew my arms apart, binding me in a crux position to the boom. The ropes were pulled hard, my arms about thirty degrees above horizontal.
I hung that way for some time, waiting. The fear of what was to come was mixed with the contentment of having Rafiq’s eyes on me, not on Ivy. Something in my core was stirred by being bound naked and vulnerable before him. After all, my desire for him, and his for me, lay at the root for why I was now to be whipped. This was powerfully arousing to me.
Ivy finally took up the cane. She slowly circumambulated me, eyeing me cooly all the while. Then she positioned herself, placing the cane to my rear and rubbing it back and forth. She was letting the moments linger.
She drew back the cane. Whoosh-thack! I choked back a cry, gasping with the pain. ...Whoosh-thackk! Searing pain. I was panting loudly. ...Whoosh-thackkk! “Ow!” That one was across the back of the thighs. I writhed.
Still I arched my back, presenting my rear to the cane. I was determined to show that I could accept whatever punishment Ivy could inflict. Yet it was pointless to try to hide how much she was hurting me.
Whoosh-thackkk! “OOOH!” ...Whoosh-thackkkk! “AHHHH!”
Through the red haze of pain that enveloped me, I heard Rafiq’s voice, “Ivy’s hitting way harder than Jenny did. That’s not right.”
The Skipper replied, “Ivy’s got a lot more issues with Jenny than visa versa. You know that. ...Five down, seven to go.”
Ivy swatted me hard four more times, twice on the butt, twice on the back of the thighs. I cried out with each stroke. Then she paused. I hung there gasping and panting, trying to endure the searing pain.
Then she walked slowly around me. I tried to compose myself as best I could. Standing before me, off to my right side, resting the cane on her shoulder, she eyed me. Blinking away the tears, I returned her gaze. The way she was looking at my breasts made me uneasy.
“It’s so satisfying to inflict pain on you after how you’ve made me feel during this voyage. What I’m going to do now... It’s what I have to do to really satisfy myself.” Then she started to swing the cane into my breasts.
“Hey!” with a shout, Rafiq leaped forward, catching the main force of the cane with his hand. “What the hell are you doing?” he said, disarming her.
Ivy was pissed, but the Skipper mollified her by saying, “Calm down, Ivy. If you want to put the sting to Jenny’s titties, I’ll give you something that will sting ’m good. But not the cane.”
The Skipper went below, and after a minute returned with a thin switch. “This ought to work pretty good. Light enough not to bruise her. See how it works,” he said, offering it to Ivy.
“Let me see that thing,” said Rafiq, intercepting it. He swished it through the air a couple of times, swatted it on to his own calf a couple times, though not very hard, then handed it to Ivy, apparently satisfied that it wouldn’t harm me.
Ivy frowned, apparently unimpressed with the switch. Like Rafiq she tested it on her calf, but she snapped it hard on herself, flinched, then seemed to brighten at the prospect of using it on me. “How many strokes am I allowed,” she asked.
“Whatever,” the Skipper replied. “I’ll let you know. There’ll be parity.”
Ivy held the switch before me, then played it back and forth over my breasts, repeatedly bumping it over my stiff nipples. She said, “What I’m going to do to your little tits now is what you deserve. So don’t complain.”
Ssswitt! She snapped it hard onto my breasts, just above the nipples. “Ooooh!” ...Ssswitt! Ssswitt! Ssswitt! Ssswitt! In rapid succession, below the nipples. ...Ssswitt! Ssswitt! Ssswitt! Ssswitt! Right across the nipples. “Ow-Ow-Ow. Oh fuck, not there, Ivy!”
She paused for a moment to pinch my nipples. “Ouch! Don’t,” I whimpered.
Then again... Ssswitt! Ssswitt! Ssswitt! Ssswitt! Ssswitt! She was raining the switch down all over my breasts. The sting was beyond description. “AHHHHHH! You’re going to kill me.” ...Ssswitt! Ssswitt! Ssswitt! “OW-OW-OW! Please no...” My nipples were on fire. I was feeling faint.
I heard Rafiq say “That’s enough now.”
“Just a few more,” the Skipper said. I was dimly aware that he was holding Rafiq back.
Ssswitt! Ssswitt! Ssswitt! Ssswitt! Ssswitt! Ivy was raining the switch down, hard and fast as she could, straight onto the nipples. “EEEEEEEE!” Things around me darkened. I felt as if I was falling into a different realm of reality.
I next thing I was aware of I was lying on the deck with the Skipper, Rafiq, and April crouching over me. Standing further back was James. Ivy was not to be seen. My breasts hurt like hell. I guess my butt hurt too, but I barely noticed it compared to my breasts.
“Bravely done, Jenny. You are one strong young woman,” said the Skipper.
I was afraid to look at my breasts. Cautiously I brought my hands to them, unsure quite what I would find. Although I could feel the horizontal welts, maybe I was little surprised that everything still seemed to be intact. But my nipples seemed puffier. I glanced down at them. “Am I okay?”
“Oh yes,” replied the Skipper. “You still have a fine-looking pair of titties. Very cute with your whip marks.”
Rafiq scowled at him, “I don’t agree one bit with what you let Ivy do to her.”
“Well, Ivy wields a mean switch, I must say,” replied the Skipper. “But I said there would be parity. Time for Ivy to see how it feels.”
A moment later, Ivy appeared from below, still naked. “Would a little ice be helpful?” she asked.
Rafiq took the melting ice cube from her and passed it gently over the welts on my breasts. The sensation of cold on my nipples was almost too strong. Yet it did make them feel better. I really liked how all these people, including Ivy, were hovering over me. I just lay there absorbing their solicitude.
After a time, having indicated that I wanted to get up, they assisted me to my feet. The Skipper now said, “Jenny, I want you to administer the switch to Ivy’s breasts.”
Ivy looked alarmed. I said, “Please, haven’t both of us been punished enough?”
The Skipper gave me this look that seemed to ask like, hadn’t I learned anything yet?
I quickly changed my tune, “Yes sir.” I wasn’t going to take another thrashing right where it would hurt the most just to spare Ivy’s breasts. Not after what she did to mine.
The Skipper said, “Ivy, on your knees, back against the bulkhead. James, hold one of her arms. I’ll hold the other.” They held her against the bulkhead.
“Jenny, take the switch and lay it on good and hard across her nipples. I’ll tell you when to stop.”
I took up the switch. It was lightweight, a couple feet long long, stiff but springy. Placing it against Ivy’s breasts, I said, “I’m doing this because I’ve been ordered to. Not for revenge. But I don’t mind if you find out what it felt like, what you just did to me.”
Ivy just closed her eyes and turned her head away. I brought back the switch. Then swatted her with it. I don’t think I hit her hard, but I landed it right across the nipples. “Aaaaghhh!” Ivy choked back further cries, and just panted.
“More, and harder,” ordered the Skipper. “She hit you way harder than that.”
With a flick of the wrist, I swatted her again. Then again and again and again, above the nipples, below the nipples, and right on the nipples. “OW! OW! Fuck!” Her breasts jiggled as she gasped and panted and swore.
I realized that I enjoyed the power of making her struggle with the same kind of anguish she had inflicted on me. I gave her four more rapid strokes across her nipples.
She let out a prolonged shriek and then her body sagged. From between her legs a stream of pee ran onto the deck. I was alarmed.
They gently set her on the deck, leaning her against the bulkhead. April had disappeared below, probably for some ice. I just stood there paralyzed, as Ivy sat clasping her breasts, crying.
As they tended to Ivy, she regained her composure. The Skipper then said, “Good girl, Ivy. Bravely taken. Now, would you like to whip Jenny some more?”
Ivy turned to him with an expression of shock. She shook her head vigorously negative.
“Lovely.” With an expression of vindication the Skipper turned to Rafiq and said, “You see. We’ve come to a resolution.”
Rafiq looked at me with a questioning expression, then at Ivy. Seeming to know not what to say, he made a gesture of exasperated acquiescence, and turned away.
The Skipper then pulled out this tubular, long black wooden thing, rounded at both ends, but with intricately carved texture along its length. “I think we’ll join you two with this. We want to bring you some satisfaction after taking your whippings so well.”
My mouth fell open when I realized that thing was a double-ended dildo and that he intended to make Ivy and me fuck on it together.
Rafiq turned to him, incensed, “Now this has gone far enough. Give me that thing.” He grabbed it from the Skipper. He was about to pitch it overboard, but taking a quick second look at it, he changed his mind and flung it across the deck. It clattered down the steps into the cabin.
Furious, the Skipper turned to him and started shouting. As I stood there stupefied, I felt Ivy pull on my wrist. April was gesturing us to come below. We scrambled down the steps as Rafiq and the Skipper stood bellowing at each other. Ahead of me, just before turning into our compartment, Ivy bent and grabbed something off the floor. It was the double-ended dildo.
We got into our compartment and locked the door. Safe! We turned to each other. Ivy and I spontaneously embraced. Overcome with emotion, I started crying. So did Ivy. April joined in the hug, consoling us.
Several times over I apologized to Ivy for the distress I caused her for breaking up her relationship with Rafiq. Ivy apologized for her hatred of me, and for whipping me so harshly. It was intensely cathartic. And such a euphoria to return to the sisterhood of women.
As we sat on the floor talking, I said to Ivy, “With you and Rafiq I felt like I had a little-sister relationship. I never thought of myself as a contender for Rafiq’s love. I never suspected he had that kind of interest in me. I thought of you two as a stable couple... even though...”
“Our relationship had problems before you came along. He had started saying that he wanted a more open relationship, where he could see other women. I was really upset about that. I felt I was losing him.”
“But still, if I’d just thought a little about how it was going to affect you, I could have resisted his advances. But I’d never been in this situation before. I just wasn’t thinking.” ...Yet I wondered, even if I had known the pain it would cause, would I have resisted Rafiq’s advance?
April interrupted, “Men aren’t worth all this shit. Why don’t we just kick ’m in the balls?” She laughed in her earthy manner.
“Yeah,” agreed Ivy, giggling. “Let’s mutiny. Tomorrow morning. We’ll take over the ship and throw them all overboard. ...Er, no. We’ll be the officers, and they’ll be the deck hands. I’m going to wield the whip.”
April said, “Tomorrow morning it is. Mutiny on the Argo. We’ll go out and kick ’m in the balls and take over the ship. I’ll take on James. Ivy, you take Rafiq. He deserves it from you. And Jenny, you take the Skipper. You’re going to kick ’m in the balls, right?”
Giggling, we all agreed. The absurdity of the fantasy was bewitching. Kicking the Skipper in the balls was so far beyond anything I could ever actually do.
Then there was a knock at the door. We listened without saying anything.
“It’s me,” called Rafiq. The doorknob clicked as he tried to turn it, but it was locked. “Just checking to see if everything is okay. Do you need anything?”
“Get the hell away from here,” April called back at him. She grinned, listening for how he would respond to that.
“No, wait,” I called to him. “Could you bring us that ointment you put on me that other time I got whipped?”
“Oh... And while you’re at it, bring us something to eat,” April called to him. “We’re not coming out tonight.”
Rafiq agreed. About ten minutes later he knocked at the door again. April opened it just enough to allow him to pass a bag of stuff in. But I made real sure that he caught a glimpse of me giving him a big smile as he looked through the opening.
After locking the door, April checked out what he had brought us for food. A small container of rice and bean casserole left over from yesterday, not enough for all of us; a bag of baby-cut carrots, a liter carton of soy milk, and a box of low-fat crackers. It would do.
I wondered what the guys would be eating tonight. None of them had cooked anything since the voyage began. I imagined Rafiq would have cereal and soy milk for dinner, same as he had for breakfast. And that Skipper would eat beer nuts, washed down with rum, and James would eat something directly out of a can. But that’s just my imagination. Who knows what they were actually doing.
As we munched, Ivy said, “I’m through with Rafiq forever. He has a few engaging qualities, but basically I’ve lost interest. And he’s too short besides.”
“He’s not that short. He’s taller than you,” I replied.
“Well, so? He’s still a dweeb.” Ivy then went on to recite a couple of episodes indicating what she considered to be his defects. I found her complaints utterly unconvincing, mostly revealing her own self-centeredness. But I forced myself to keep quiet and act sympathetic. For me it was best if Ivy lose all interest in Rafiq.
After a bite to eat, we proceeded to put salve on our welts. Ivy insisted that we apply it to each other. As she lay on her stomach, propped on her elbows to keep the weight off her sore breasts, I smoothed it over her rear. She opened her legs. April put her fingers on her privates. Ivy wriggled in contentment.
As we continued, Ivy was clearly becoming aroused. She was grinding her loins on the floor. But suddenly she stopped and rolled over, perhaps not yet wishing to release her sexual tension.
“Now you have to put that stuff on my breasts, where you whacked me so hard. ...You nasty girl.” She grinned at me.
I had reservations about such intimate contact with Ivy. Despite the feel-good spirit of the moment, I was uncertain that everything was fully resolved between us. My sense was that the issue of Rafiq could still loom large. But I applied the ointment to her breasts. Her nipples were hard. My fingers bumped over them as I applied the ointment.
Laying there, Ivy squirmed as she arched her back and extended her arms above her head, stretching her front out to the maximum. She had an awesome body. Perfect-sized breasts, flat stomach, tight thighs. And she always carried herself like she knew what she had.
April brought her face toward Ivy’s crotch and extended her tongue to her clit. Ivy squirmed in appreciation. Warming up to the spirit of the moment I put my mouth to her nipple and sucked. The ointment tasted bitter. After a few moments, Ivy began moaning with satisfaction, quivering and gasping. Then she lay quiet.
After a while, sitting up, she said, “Now we have to put it on Jenny’s welts. Lie down on your stomach.” There was an aggressiveness in her tone.
I lay down on my stomach, propped on my elbows, so as not to press my sore breasts on the floor. I grunted as Ivy set herself astraddle on the small of my back, facing my bottom. It was not all that comfortable. She applied the ointment to my rear vigorously, not gently. She kneaded my buns, occasionally giving them a slap.
The way I was tightening my butt against her, she must have known that I was not comfortable with what she was doing. But I didn’t complain. If this was the price of peace, so be it.
Having finished applying the ointment to my rear, she gave me a couple hard slaps, one on each side of my bottom. Then getting off me, she told me to roll over.
I hesitated. I wasn’t sure I trusted her enough to present my front to her. Everything on the front is more sensitive. And she was not in a gentle mood.
“Come on, roll over,” she repeated. “Let me attend to Rafiq’s new girlfriend.”
Slowly, I turned over on my back, saying, “Be gentle. My nipples are really sensitive now.”
On my back, I took a deep breath and exhaled fully. I raised my arms over my head. I decided I was going to acquiesce to this dominatrix. I would to do whatever she said. I had stolen her boyfriend. Rafiq chose my innocence over this poised and beautiful woman. So now she could do whatever she wished to me. But she could never have Rafiq back. He was mine now.
Although I was convincing myself to acquiesce, in the back of my mind I knew there were limits to what I would accept from Ivy. But perhaps she was not going to push those limits.
Lying on my back, I closed my eyes and relaxed. Ivy straddled my hips. Arms overhead, I crossed my wrists, imagining that I was bound.
My mind drifting freely into a medieval fantasy, I imagined that the Lady Ivy was going to punish me for stealing her man. Yes, despite the peasant girl circumstances in my fantasy, Sir Rafiq had recognized in my true worth and had taken me for his lady. Now he wore my kerchief in his helmet. But somehow I had happened into the clutches of Lady Ivy. She had already had me whipped. But I had taken it bravely. So now she was going to debase me sexually.
Ivy applied the salve to my breasts. She was gentle. But in my fantasy I had her molesting my body. In fact I arched my back, receptively encouraging her caress. But in my fantasy I was writhing under her torment. I pressed my loins upward into Ivy’s weight as she straddled my hips.
“Stick it in her,” I heard Ivy murmur to April. This jolted me from my reverie. I did not want Ivy sticking that gross dildo thing into me.
But then I considered that April, not Ivy, was going to do it. ...Well, in the spirit of peace maybe I should go along with that. I tried to relax and slip back into my fantasy: It seemed that Lady Ivy was going to have my good friend rape me with a horrid wooden penis.
I felt it touch my labia. It was really wet. April must have put lubricant on it. I am not naturally that moist.
April was pushing it into me. So big and hard. I grimaced as it slid in further and further. Finally, all the way in.
Ivy, still straddling me, shifted her weight so that I could press my clit onto her. I pressed upwards. Circular motions. I murmured with pleasure. Ivy continued playing gently with my nipples. I could feel a slight tremor in the dildo at the hands of April as she moved it in rhythm with me. The pressure to release my sexual tension was rising inexorably.
In my fantasy these women were holding me down and sexually stimulating me against my will, exploiting my erogenous zones in order to gain control of my volition. In my fantasy I didn’t want my body to betray me but was helpless against the onslaught of their perversions; they knew how to take advantage of my body’s weaknesses.
I didn’t know why the image of them taking me against my will was so tantalizing. On the other hand, what could be more obvious than the allure of the thought that Rafiq’s love for me had set in motion the events leading both to today’s whipping and to my current sexual debasement. My entire being was trembling with sexual energy.
Over the top. The heat of orgasm radiated through me. Sublime pleasure. ...Unearthly bliss. ...Preternatural ecstasy. I continued pressing my loins against Ivy’s weight as April worked me with the dildo.
I bathed in the warmth of orgasmic release. This body, after taking in so much punishment, so much pain, was now immersed in so much pleasure.
As the rapture of orgasm ebbed, I lay still. Utterly satisfied. This is what I had earned after the unremitting torment of the strap, cane, and switch.
After a time Ivy got off me and turned her attention to April. As the two girls got on together, I curled up and drifted into a little cat nap with that wooden penis still stuck into me. I realize that leaving it in might sound gross. I can’t really explain why I didn’t remove it; I don’t think there was further pleasure in it. Perhaps I felt I didn’t have the authority to remove it.
When I awoke a short while later, Ivy and April were lying quietly together, and the dildo had come out of me. After a time we roused ourselves, got dressed, and passed the evening quietly chatting.
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