Slave Ship

by Mark Andrews

  “How many bookings have you received in the last few minutes, Don?” I asked the duty officer.

  There was a chuckle at the other end. “Thirty-four, Brian, and my board has just lit up with three more.”

  I wasn’t surprised. I called Henry to ask him to make sure Allison was in my suite for I would want her in an hour or so, that was for sure.

  Mr Kimotsu was an expert torturer. I knew that already. In another age, he would have been a member of the Kempei Tai, the Japanese Military Secret Police during World War II for they were renowned for their skill at using torture to elicit information from men and women POW’s alike. He didn’t apply his whip indiscriminately. Indeed, he was very careful to apply it in measured lines across her breasts, her belly - each line almost exactly two inches apart, and then to each of her widely stretched thighs, catching the soft inner flesh as well as the hardier outer face.

  He only gave her about a dozen lashes, each administered a few seconds after her bottom had landed once more on the knife but each one was a eternity of pain.

  Juma looked quite incredible I thought although I knew she would be out of action for a few days after this. Bill Strange had insisted that when a girl suffered as much as this, he wanted her in his clinic under his immediate supervision for a few days and I readily agreed.

  Still, right now, as each drop onto the knife, followed by the lash of the whip to her velvet-smooth flesh took its toll, she was the absolute epitome of wretchedness. Each stroke was well spaced - about five minutes or so and the whole punishment therefore took only an hour and a half from the time she was led in to when Sanzo carried her (over his shoulder) out to the clinic.

  During that hour and a half however, the whole ship - or rather the people on it, had their eyes glued to the scene, either in person or via the TV monitors. Even the other girls, those who weren’t employed at some other task, watched although their faces registered horror, not excitement, as Juma was systematically hurt - for the pleasure it gave Mr Kimotsu - and the other guests on the ship.

  At dinner that night, he was roundly congratulated for putting on such a good show.

  In the meantime, everyone that could obtain the services of a slavegirl, repaired to his cabin and fucked her mightily. As did I of course.

  Allison was waiting for me in my stateroom, and although the TV in my cabin was off by the time I got there, I knew from the expression on her face that she too had watched the event in the PR.

  “Well?” I said, “what did you think of Juma’s performance?”

  She grinned at me. “I wish it had been me...”

  I gaped at her. “Allison, I know you have discovered a new liking for pain, but that would have to be about the worst...?”

  “I don’t care. As she dropped down onto that board, all I wanted was for it to be my arse and my cunt that felt the pain...”

  She had taken to using terms like this for her former private parts and I assumed it was all part of her transformation. “I wonder,” I said. “Perhaps we may try it... First however, I have a need...”

  She grinned even more broadly. “Of course you do, master. Allow me...”

  She had me stripped and lying on the bed and had mounted me in seconds, bouncing up and down on top of my rampant weapon as if she had been doing it for years and she brought me to a wonderful orgasm.

  But then she looked plaintively down at me. “And now, master, may we go down to the PR?”

  Chapter 5

  We did. I couldn’t wait to see how she reacted to such pain.

  By now I had realised this girl was a real sex-slut and masochist. Henry had informed me of her astonishing predilection for pain when he had realised she was beginning to enjoy his use of the whip and cane on her body. It had come about shortly after she had begun to understand just how incredible sexual pleasure could be. I had even tried it out myself, caning her bottom before sex - and it had made her even more fiery in bed.

  But this ritual torture? Could she really want to experience it? It seemed she did. I called Henry on my communicator and asked him to meet me in the PR.

  “Allison has requested a session on the knife, Henry,” I said.

  “Requested, Brian?” He too was obviously astonished.

  “Requested,” I said firmly. “Get her fixed up on it, would you please.”

  He jumped to obey but I watched her carefully. I was right in doing so. For all her apparent eagerness to experience the awful pain of the knife on her pussy, she was now showing signs of apprehension. But she didn’t say anything. Not then. I knew she would be screaming in pain soon, just as Juma had so recently.

  He didn’t have to struggle with her, though. She moved quite willingly over to the blade and cocked her leg over it then volunteered her wrists for the manacles and her ankles for the chains, while I took up the pliant whip so recently surrendered by Mr Kimotsu.

  “Still want to experience the torture, Allison?” I said softly.

  “Yes, master,” she replied although now in a very small voice. Gone was the excitement she had displayed up in my stateroom.

  I nodded to Henry and he pulled her up off the knife, held her up there for a few seconds, then dropped her back down onto it.

  “Aaagheeeaaaghooowwwghaaagh!” she screamed as the wood cut into her nether orifices - and to round off her pain, I gave her a nasty swipe of the whip across her lovely breasts. I stood there, watching her now almost convulsive antics as she tried to cope with the pain. But I also noticed something else. She was wet. Yes, down there! She was oozing her juices copiously and her eyes were now dreamy. She really was into the pain although she continued to scream and flail her body about.

  I nodded to Henry again. This would be the last for I really wanted her to have the pleasure and any longer would have made it unbearable - I thought. He hoisted her up off the wooden knife and dropped her down onto it and again I whipped her - on her belly this time.

  But then, after watching her sex-induced, libidinous writhings for a few moments and asked Henry to release her, her eyes opened wide and she shook her head. “No, master. More, please...?”

  But I shook my head at Henry. “Get her down,” I said shortly. I took her back to my cabin and laid her down on my bed. “You really wanted more of that?” I asked incredulously.

  She smiled dreamily. “It was wonderful, master...”

  I said nothing then. What could one say to that? But I raped her - hard and long and once more she responded like a hell-cat, thrusting her loins - which must have been in severe pain, if not agony from the knife, up at me with every one of my lunges.

  I think it was during that session I began at last to understand the strange feelings I was having about this beautiful creature...

  I said earlier that Shaun Harding’s expertise as a designer of electrical torture machines was in much demand. The use of electricity to torture the human body is not new. It has been used since before World War II and was much used during it by both the Gestapo in Nazi Germany and the Japanese Kempei Tai.

  But Shaun’s machines were real works of art. Not for him a mere black box with some wires and switches on it. He designed gadgets that intrigued as well as hurt. One of the most popular we simply called The Shocker and involved an arrangement that required the victim to hold a near-impossible pose. Any movement on her part involved nasty electric shocks to various part of her body. Let me describe it.

  First there was the frame. Just two stainless steel uprights set between deck and deck-head ten feet apart. From these, at shoulder height, dangled two manacles on the ends of stainless steel wires that were attached to two micro-switches mounted on the poles. On the deck, where her ankles would be chained, were two more micro-switches, positioned to fit under her heels. Between them stood an erect phallus, also crafted of stainless steel.

  The last it
em was another pole set out in front of the other two and between them and this one reached up only to chest height. At its very top, a pulley wheel allowed another wire to dangle down at front and back of the pole. On the side nearest the two fixed uprights, the wire divided in two and ended in tiny alligator clips. On the other side, that nearest the audience in the swivel chairs, the wire ended in a stainless steel plum bob which, at this moment sat in a basin of water affixed to the front side of the pole.

  That was all that was discernible. The works were in a box discretely placed on the back wall behind the frame.

  Susan, was an English girl who was dark to Allison’s fair but was still really lovely with masses of dark brown hair, big brown eyes and a beautiful olive complexion combined with an athletic body that we had made even better. She was from a middle-class background and had been a teacher in her former life. Her hobbies had included squash, tennis and bicycle riding, hence her athletic figure.

  She had been booked by a German client by the name of Fritz Burckhard and he had come aboard solely because I had promised him that Shaun’s gadgets would allow him to indulge his fetish of electrical torture to his heart’s content...

  Her trainer brought her into the PR and over to The Shocker, where waited Fritz and a small number of seated guests. His expertise at electrical torture was at this time an unknown quantity but there were those upstairs who were leaning against the bar and watching assiduously. If he showed promise, they would be down here like a shot.

  Her trainer first mounted her over the erect phallus, forcing her to cock a leg over it until it was well inside her. Then he fixed her ankles into the manacles that positioned her heels right over the two micro-switches, drawing them apart and thus impaling her even more onto the steel cock already well inside her quim. This meant they were spread very wide, quite uncomfortably wide, actually.

  Next he took her right hand and extended it out, parallel with her shoulder and snapped the manacle on the end of the dangling wire on the pole to her wrist, then repeated the act with her other arm. She was now standing with her feet wide and her arms up in a near horizontal position. At this time she had no idea of the micro-switches under her heels or on the ends of the wires and allowed her body to sit down on the heel switches and her arms to droop down until stopped by the two wires holding them out sideways.

  It remained then to affix the alligator clips to her nipples. This her trainer did now, snapping them over the two rings embedded in the little buds of pinkish flesh and in the process lifting the plumb bob out of the water and causing her tits to be pulled out from her breasts. She screamed in pain at this. I grinned to myself. If she thought that was painful, just wait till the machine was switched on. Shaun was standing at the wall unit, its cover open and adjusting certain dials and switches inside it. He would activate it once her trainer had finished her preparation.

  That was now. Once the two clips were attached to her nipple rings and he had adjusted the length of the wire so that the plumb bob was just clear of the water, his work was done and he stepped back, nodding to Fritz.

  “You see, slavegirl,” he began, “it will be your task to stand quite still over the next hour or so. Under your feet are two switches and two more are on the ends of these wires... Here, where the plumb bob rests just above the water is another switch - the connection being made when it drops into the water. Now, as to what happens when any of these three switches are closed...”

  Here he grinned and nodded to Shaun, who threw the main switch, activating the whole machine. Immediately, Susan began to shake, her face contorted into an expression of agony and her mouth opened in a silent scream - silent because her voice-box was paralysed by the shocks.

  They weren’t high voltage but they went between her vagina, via the pole she was impaled on, and her nipples, the circuit coming via the bowl of water on the pole out in front of her (or from the pulley wheel over which ran the wire to her tits), and thus it took only a very small current, innocuous anywhere else on her body, to give her exquisite pain.

  Shaun opened the main switch after a few seconds and Fritz went on: “As you can see, slave, a quite electrifying experience, is it not? But you can avoid it... All you have to do is keep the plum bob out of the water, stay up on your tip toes, and keep your hands up level with your shoulders. Break any of those rules and you feel the shocks...”

  He stepped up and raised her hands up until they were level with her shoulders, grasped her around her waist and raised her heels up off the pads over the switches beneath them, and then pushed her upper body backwards until the plum bob rose right up out of the surface of the water in the bowl.

  “See, easy isn’t it?” he said, grinning maliciously at her as he stepped back and again nodded to Shaun. Of course he, as well as everyone else in the room (and those watching on the TV screens all over the ship’s public rooms) knew that to maintain those three positions was going to be anything but easy for her, especially for an hour or more.

  Fritz took his seat in the centre front row and sipped the glass of champagne Juma, the duty steward down in the PR, had provided for him.

  Susan stared out at the rows of occupied seats in front of her, despair written all over her pretty face. Already her shoulders ached abominably and she had only been in that position a minute or so. And staying up on tip toes was also hard. She experimented, dropping down just a little. But the micro-switches had been well positioned. It only took a half inch or so and one of them closed, sending another bolt of that awful pain to the most sensitive parts of her body. As I said, Shaun was a real expert in this field and he knew about the dangers of applying electrical currents near the heart. He had investigated the matter though and had used a frequency of alternating current that would not cause problems.

  She was ready for the jolt this time though and gave an almighty scream of anguish and hastily pushed herself up off the pads over the tiny switches beneath them. Next she tried the ones on the ends of the wires that held her arms out sideways. This was even worse than the pain of staying up on tip toes but she found she had just as small a leeway here as under her heels and another horrible shock attacked her nipples and her vagina.

  Fritz sat back and delighted in her screams and her attempts to rectify her mistakes. Every time the minute current bit in to her body, she went into strictures of agony, her muscles constricting in a quite involuntary reaction to the shocks and it took all her strength of mind to overcome the natural reaction to them and restore her body to its proper position. As she did, the muscles of her so athletic body rippled and corded and went into fantastic shapes.

  His cock, like most of the others on that deck - hell, around most of the ship, I guessed, was rigid and now, other guests began to appear, excited by the sight of Susan over the TV screens and anxious to see this torture in the flesh.

  It was certainly worth seeing. She couldn’t hold the position for more than a minute. No-one could, not even Juma, I suspected although that girl’s incredible muscles and stamina might just enable her to hold out for the whole sixty minutes allowed for this show.

  Wasn’t I worried about damage to the girl? No. Shaun had showed me the results of his research into electrical torture and its effects, long and short term and I was convinced that although the girl experiencing it would suffer excruciating pain every time she lapsed, no long-term ill effects were likely.

  Every one of the forty-nine seats in the PR were soon filled and other guests stood either side of the Shocker, watching avidly as Susan tried valiantly to resist the temptation to drop down onto her heels, drop her arms - just a little, or lean forward to ease the ache in her back. And every time she did, there was a hum and a crackle (artificially created by Shaun’s expertise to add drama to the scene) and Susan screamed beautifully, while her body went into those strictures of agony that so pleased our passengers.

  She lasted the whole sixty m
inutes. Not all of the girls would. Some would faint from the effort and the pain but even this, Shaun had allowed for. The shocks could not continue past thirty seconds and then, if any of the micro-switches was still closed at the end of that period, the machine shut down and would need to be manually started again.

  But Susan was strong. Sport had made her hardy and her beautiful muscles kept her arms up and her body up on her toes for much longer than I would have thought possible. As time passed, she got better at it. I suspect she was teaching herself to endure the agony in her muscles rather than experience the shocks and the guests started making little side-bets as to how long she would last before her next lapse.

  She heard them and I even saw her give a little smile of determination. She was going to beat them all - she did too, this time going longer than ever before. But of course it was quite impossible to stay up on tip toes for much longer than a few minutes, to keep her hands up level or even her upper body sloping back to prevent the plum bob dipping into the water, and eventually, in one or other of these areas, she lapsed and again the shocks tore at her body, sending it again into those delicious contortions that made more than one of the men down there spurt his load...

  But electrical torture wasn’t our only delight down in that room.

  Another very popular punishment involved the use of two girls. The equipment used was here very simple. Just a rope over a pulley suspended from the deck-head and a couple of bricks under it. And that was it.

  The rope divided in two at both ends. At one end there were two manacles; on the other, a pair of snap rings. The pulley attached to the deck-head was on the end of a winch that could raise and lower it as required.

  This was a favourite torment of Mr Sun, a Korean millionaire who delighted in torturing Caucasian women. But he also delighted in pairing a white girl with one of another racial type. For this session he chose Michelle, an English girl, and Shamba, a Sudanese girl who, like the Nigerian Juma, was extraordinarily athletic.