Shameful Reckonings

by S. J. Lewis

  “Take off your clothes,” Paul said.

  “I beg your pardon?” Sigrid took a sideways step away from him.

  “Take off your clothes,” he repeated. “I want to see you naked.”

  The crewman just stood there, watching her, muscular arms folded. He was wearing sunglasses, so she couldn’t see his eyes, but he seemed to be smiling faintly.

  “You must be joking,” Sigrid replied. It didn’t come out as confidently as she’d intended. Something was very wrong here… and where had Amanda gotten to?

  “I am not joking,” Paul shook his head. “Do it.”

  “I will not!” Sigrid snapped.

  “Do you want me to do it, then?” He took a step towards her. He wasn’t smiling so much now as baring his teeth. They were very white.

  Sigrid looked quickly from him to the crewman and back again. Another of the yacht’s crew came up from the cabins below. He was carrying something. He smiled at her and tossed it at her feet. The bundle fell open, and Sigrid recognized Amanda’s shorts, shirt and underwear. She felt her blood run cold.

  There was no place to run, and they were so far from shore that she wasn’t sure where the nearest land was.

  “Your companion was more cooperative,” Paul chuckled. Sigrid launched herself at him, intending to rake his eyes out with her nails at least before she was overpowered. But he blocked her attack with a sweep of his arm and the next thing she knew he’d grabbed her by her ponytail. He twisted and pulled and she fell heavily to the deck, face-down. Then he had his foot on her hair, holding her down, and his knee was on the small of her back. She screamed as loudly as she could. Paul only laughed.

  “Scream all you like,” he told her. She felt his hands gripping her wrists and twisting her arms behind her and she screamed again.

  One of the crewmen came over. She saw him hand something to Paul and then she felt something thin and hard circling her trapped wrists. She heard a zipping noise, and the thing around her wrists tightened cruelly.

  “Please… please don’t, Paul,” she sobbed.

  “Why not?” Paul asked, and then laughed. He took his knee from her back and his foot from her hair and she rolled onto her side and looked up at him. There were tears in her eyes. It was a useful skill to be able to cry at will. Sigrid doubted that it was going to do her any good.

  “Get her up,” Paul ordered the crewmen. They grabbed her by her arms and hauled her to her feet. She tried to kick one of them in the shins, but the sari hindered her and her sandals were too fragile to do any real damage anyway. Before she could try to kick the other man, Paul stepped forward and slapped her. Hard. Her head snapped to one side and her vision blurred. She’d have fallen if the two crewmen hadn’t kept her upright. She was still trying to see straight when she felt Paul pulling at her sari. He got it off of her shoulder and yanked it down, baring her to her waist. Then his hands were mauling her breasts, fondling, squeezing and pinching. Sigrid whimpered and squirmed feebly. The slap had been hard enough to stun her, and her ears were ringing. She felt completely disoriented.

  “Take her below,” she heard Paul order the crewmen. “Make her secure. I’ll be down in a moment.”

  ***

  Sigrid writhed and twisted in the narrow bunk. She’d been stripped naked. Whatever the crewmen hadn’t been able to rip off of her they had cut away with a knife. She could still feel their hard hands on her body. Her wrists were still bound by whatever Paul had used on her. It felt like it was made of plastic. It hurt. The crewmen had tied her ankles together with rope, and then tied her legs together just above her knees. More rope circled her neck, and a length of it ran from there to the rope binding her legs so that she was sharply bent over. The compartment the bunk was in had to be somewhere in the bowels of the yacht. It had no portholes, and with the door shut it was completely dark.

  The door to the compartment swung open. Paul stood there without entering for a moment, just looking at her. His smile looked smug.

  “Please, Paul,” Sigrid put a tremor into her voice. “You don’t have to do this. Please untie me. It hurts.”

  “Behave yourself and perhaps I will,” he replied. “You are truly a beautiful woman, you know. A lovely prize.”

  Did he intend to play pirate chief and helpless captive? Sigrid had met men with similar fantasies, but she didn’t think Paul was playing at anything. He entered the compartment. It was small enough that he had to stoop. He flipped her onto her other side on the bunk, so that her back was to him. She felt his hands on her ass, on her thighs.

  “I want to be the first to have you,” he told her.

  “What?” Sigrid tried to turn her head to look at him, but he pulled the compartment door shut and they were plunged back into darkness. She heard a rustling noise, and then he was in the bunk with her. His hand reached over to cup her breast and squeeze it again. She felt him pressing up against her. She could tell that he was already erect. He might be ready, but she wasn’t. She tried to squirm away, but she was already almost up against the bulkhead.

  “Easy… easy…” Paul breathed into her ear. “Don’t fight it. It might even be enjoyable.”

  She whimpered. His hand moved from her breast to her pussy. He began fingering her. She tried to relax. She tried to let her body respond in a purely physical way. She had done it before. But she wasn’t quite wet enough when she felt his cock sliding into her. He was a big man, and physically powerful. She lay very still as he fucked her, whimpering from time to time when her abused body demanded it. What he was doing hurt, but it didn’t hurt as much as the hard, sharp-edged plastic that fettered her wrists, so it was endurable. It seemed to go on for a long, long time before she felt him shudder and heard him groan. Again, a shudder and groan, deep and rumbling. And again, and once more, and then he was done. His breath was very warm against the back of her neck. He pulled his cock out. She felt him get out of the bunk. She kept still and whimpered some more in the dark. She yelped when he slapped her ass hard.

  “You will get better,” he chuckled. Then she felt a sharp sting, right where he’d slapped her the moment before. She was barely aware when he opened the door to the compartment and stepped out. He closed the door and she was back in darkness. She felt weak and dizzy, and she knew he’d injected her with something. That was the last thing she knew for a while.

  Chapter Four

  “She’s waking up.”

  “Move faster, then.”

  Sigrid heard the voices as if they were reaching her from the bottom of a deep well. Her head throbbed, her pussy was sore, her hands felt limp and lifeless. There was a faint metallic taste in her mouth. She was vaguely aware that she was in terrible danger and that she should do something about it, but her body felt as if it could only send signals of discomfort and pain. It would not respond to commands. She tried to move and could not tell if she had succeeded. She tried to scream, but all she could manage was a dry croak.

  “Tighten those straps.”

  She thought that she recognized Paul’s voice. She tried to look for him, but she couldn’t move her head properly and her eyes couldn’t seem to focus. As her body slowly shook off the effects of whatever Paul had injected her with, she started to realize some things. Her hands were no longer bound behind her. Now her arms were stretched wide over her head. She tried to move them, and couldn’t. Something was holding her by her wrists.

  Her legs were also spread wide, and she couldn’t move them either. She seemed to be lying on her back, on something cold and very hard. With a painful effort, she managed to raise her head for a moment and look down the length of her still-naked body. She couldn’t see much and she couldn’t keep it up for more than a moment. Her neck muscles lost their strength and the back of her head thumped against the cold, hard surface. She rolled her head to the left. If she concentrated and squinted, she could just make out that her left wrist was fastened to a metal bar by a wide leather strap. Rolling her head to the right and repeating her effort, she sa
w that her right wrist was likewise fettered. She tried to scream again. All that came out was a louder croak.

  “Okay. She’s set.” It was another one of those unfamiliar voices from the well.

  “Good. Raise her up now.” It was Paul’s voice. Then Sigrid heard a strange metallic clacking noise. It stopped. It started again, and she felt her arms being lifted a little way off of the floor. There was another pause, then more clacking, and her arms were lifted higher. She tried to move again, and managed to flex her knees. Her spread legs seemed to be tied to something heavy. She blearily realized that she’d put herself into the position of a woman waiting to receive her lover. With an effort, she pushed her legs flat again.

  Every time she heard the clacking noise she felt her arms being lifted higher. She tried to see where that noise was coming from, but her head still felt too heavy for her neck. Eventually, her arms were lifted so high off of the floor that her head hung back at an angle. The lifting continued. Now she could feel her ass being dragged slowly across the floor. She shivered violently. The clicking and the lifting continued. Her arms were taking more and more of her weight as she was raised higher off of the floor. She struggled to get her feet under her, even though she didn’t think she could stand on her own yet.

  “Stop,” Paul ordered. Sigrid was hanging by her arms now. Only her heels were in contact with the floor. She’d gotten more feeling back now, and she wished she hadn’t. She could see well enough to know that Paul was coming towards her and that he was carrying something in his hand.

  “Open your mouth,” he ordered.

  “Fuck you,” Sigrid mumbled. She was getting some control of her muscles back, but it came out as: “Fug-oo.” Paul took her nipple between the thumb and forefinger of his free hand and pinched. Sigrid yelped.

  “I said, open your mouth, bitch,” Paul snarled, his face suddenly inches from hers.

  She felt too weak to fight. She opened her mouth. Paul quickly stuffed some kind of hard rubber bit between her jaws, pushing it deep into her mouth. He buckled it tightly in place. Paul stepped back as if to survey his handiwork and then turned away.

  “Keep going,” he ordered. The clicking resumed. The sheer slowness of it all was a form of torture. Sigrid managed to get her feet under her. It was a relief to find that her legs could actually take some of her weight. Her vision was almost back to normal. She tried to look around as best she could.

  She was in a room… no, a chamber. It was round, maybe twenty feet across. The ceiling was domed, and very high above her head. The floor was paved with dark stone. The walls were of more dark stone. The dome might have been made of cement. It felt somehow as if they were deep underground. She could see only two other men in the chamber with her. Paul was standing against the wall, watching her intently. He had changed into jeans and a long white pullover shirt. The other man was off to her left. He was brown-skinned and well-muscled. He wore only shorts, no shoes, and a black hood that covered his face. He was operating a hand-powered crank that made the clicking noise. A chain ran up from the crank, through a pulley, and up to the top of the dome, where it ran through another pulley. From there it ran back down. Not far above Sigrid’s head, it split into two chains. One ran to each end of the metal bar that her wrists were strapped to. Looking down, she could see that her ankles were strapped to an identical bar. She could just about stand on her own now, but the man kept working the crank. Soon she was standing on her toes, and then she couldn’t reach the floor at all. Her arms and legs were painfully stretched, and it was too cool and damp in the chamber. She shivered.

  “That’s enough,” Paul said. The man at the crank locked it in position. Sigrid saw Paul take a cell phone out of his shirt pocket. He held it up. Was he making a call? Then she remembered that some cell phones could take digital pictures and she hastily turned her head away. She heard Paul laugh. He came over to her.

  “Too late, bitch,” he said. He held the cell phone up so she could see herself, stretched and suspended, the deep tan of her body broken by the creamy white of her breasts and loins. She looked tired and bedraggled in the picture. Paul snapped the phone shut and put it back in his pocket. His hands strayed to her breasts. She was still too weak to fight. With the bit in her mouth, it was enough of a struggle to keep from drooling.

  “You have a magnificent body,” he said. “All you need now is the proper training.”

  Sigrid tried to snarl at him around the gag.

  Paul looked around her. “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Apparently there was a third man there, standing behind her where she could not see.

  “This is your first lesson in discipline,” Paul smiled. “Unfortunately, it must be harsh.”

  Sigrid felt a sudden chill that went far beyond the cool dankness of the chamber. Paul patted her hip affectionately before he stepped back and away.

  “Do not hold back,” he called out to the man behind her, “but be careful. Do not break that lovely skin.”

  “I know my job,” the third man replied.

  “Begin,” Paul nodded. An instant later, Sigrid heard a sharp crack! There was a terrible, searing pain across her backside. She shrieked, and it echoed through the chamber. Another crack! Something struck her painfully hard across the backs of her thighs and she shrieked again. The next blow fell across her calves. The one after that was across the small of her back.

  She jerked and struggled and shrieked as the whipping went on. She tried to beg for mercy, but it was impossible to form words with that hard rubber bit wedged between her teeth. The pain had cleared her head of the last effects of the drug. Between strokes she wondered desperately what Paul wanted. She had teased him before. She had no doubt that he knew it. She’d thought that his rape of her on his boat had been a form of payback from him. She didn’t like it, but she would have understood it. But now she had no idea where she was, what Paul wanted, or why he was doing this to her.

  Another lash across her backside, where she was already sore, made her shriek again. She looked at Paul, pleading for mercy from him with her eyes. He only smiled, as if he was perfectly satisfied with the way things were. If she hadn’t been gagged, she could have begged him, promised him anything he wanted, if only he would stop this. But she couldn’t form any recognizable words, and all she got for her effort to do so anyway was a trickle of saliva that dribbled onto her breasts. Another blow slashed across her shoulders. It was followed almost immediately by one across the backs of her thighs again. The pain of her tautly stretched body and abused flesh grew too strong, and she started to pass out. Then her tormentor lashed her up between her spread legs. She bucked and howled up at the domed roof as he whipped her ass again… and again.

  The whipping stopped. Sigrid hung limp in her bonds. Her arms were aching badly enough now that they hurt worse than most of the places she’d been struck. She wondered if her ordeal was over. She hoped desperately that it was. She saw Paul approaching. He was still smiling.

  “So…” he reached up to fondle her breasts again. “If I let you down now, will you do anything that I want?”

  Sigrid nodded wearily.

  “Anything at all?” He pinched one coral-pink nipple. Sigrid nodded more vigorously. She tried to say ‘yes, yes’, but it came out as ‘es, es’. She drooled onto her chest.

  “Unfortunately, we are not done yet.” Paul shrugged. “I am sure that you are very eager to please me now. It seems a pity not to learn what skills you have, but there will be much time for that later.” He let go of her nipple and moved away. Now for the first time she saw who had been whipping her as he stepped around in front of her. Like the crank operator, he wore shorts and a black hood over his face. He was burly, his skin a pale fish belly white. He seemed to be covered with a thin pelt of coarse, curling black hair. He held a long, wide leather strap in his hand. Sigrid couldn’t see his face because of the hood, but she thought he was smiling as he stood there sizing her up. She shook her head ‘no’ desper
ately. Then he brought the strap down across her thighs and she screamed at the sudden pain. The next blow was across her belly. It was hard enough to knock the wind out of her. The third was across her breasts, and she had no breath to scream.

  It went on. He moved to flog her right side, and then moved to give her left side the same treatment. Sigrid shrieked and squealed and struggled wildly and none of it did her any good. It hurt worse when he struck at only one of her legs, because the strap would curl around it. When that happened the end of the strap stung like white fire when it hit. The last thing she remembered was seeing him take aim at one of her arms.

  The next thing she knew someone had doused her unconscious body with icy cold water. She came to spluttering and choking and gasping. Her body was nothing but one terrible ache and she wished she was still unconscious. Then the man brought the strap up between her legs again. It was as if a flashbulb had gone off in her head, blotting out all sights and sounds and feelings for a long, terrible moment. Then the pain came rushing in like a consuming fire. She barely noticed when he whipped her across her breasts again.

  ***

  All she could hear was somebody whimpering. It took her a moment to realize that it was her. The side of her face was pressed against something cold and hard. There was hardly any feeling in her hands, but they seemed to be resting on that same cold, hard surface, as were her breasts, knees and lower legs. She seemed to be bent over something. Whatever it was, it was not as cold or as hard. Her pain-wracked brain dimly realized that her ass was up in the air and her legs were spread. She felt big hands gripping her hips. A moment later, she heard a deep male grunt and felt a cock being forced into her sore, throbbing pussy. She tried to move, but then other hands gripped her ankles and wrists, holding her still. Somebody pulled a bag over her head so that she couldn’t see. Then she heard Paul’s voice calling out.