Return to Dominatrix Island

Return to Dominatrix Island

By ChristopherDB Copyright 2025

Note from the author: This story is the third part in a series. Please read the original story, Escape from Dominatrix Island, and the sequel Escape Crew from Dominatrix Island, which can be found here at Literotica. This story contains scenes of female domination and captive males, with non-consensual bdsm and sexual situations. It is written only for adults who enjoy these topics.

Suddenly I woke up, groggy and disoriented. Outside my cabin door I heard the footsteps and foreign speaking voices of several women, and they didn't sound friendly.

Dim light came in through the windows, or I suppose portholes was the proper term, but was it early morning or early evening? I'd eaten a good meal before dozing off and thought I was with people that I could trust, but the food or drinks must have been drugged.

The door to my cabin was flung open and a woman stood in the doorway. Light spilled in behind her so I could see she was wearing a black leather motorcycle style jacket, tight fitting shorts of matching black leather, and knee high rubber boots with flat heels.

She spotted me in my bunk, called out excitedly over her shoulder to another woman, and approached me with a pair of handcuffs in a confident strut of authority. I knew the boat had returned to the citadel, on the remote island ruled by dominant women and I cursed out loud.

....

If you're reading this story you probably already know about my background. How I'd been kept as a so-called guest at the citadel after escaping from my underworld employer that planned to have me killed. Although the ladies of the citadel called me their guest, I felt I was more of a prisoner and was sometimes paddled or whipped by them, not always for disciplinary reasons, but more often for their sadistic amusement.

Another man, McGonnigle, and I had recently made a daring escape, along with a few others. Anastasia, one of the elite women of the citadel had given us access to an old speedboat, and we fled in the night to a freighter that had been waiting for us offshore.

My memory is still vivid, after climbing a rope ladder up the side of the rusty old ship, the leaky speedboat having just sunk beneath the dark water, McGonnigle and I were standing by the rail. Our passengers that night were being led off down the deck towards what I assumed was the crew quarters, while some mysterious cargo we had been instructed to haul on our escape was being unloaded from a heavy net.

McGonnigle was normally upbeat and fearless to the point of being reckless. However he turned to me with a look of concern on his face and pointed out in a low voice that the ship seemed to have an all female crew. I whispered to him that I saw one of them light a cigarette from a pack that was the same foreign brand smoked by the women of the citadel.

It was that lady, cigarette in hand, stocky build and wearing grimy coveralls with sturdy work boots, who approached us. She gave a friendly smile, and as she started walking towards the open doorway and lighted portholes in the distance, waved over her shoulder for us to follow.

We were taken to a room that I assumed was the crew's mess hall. Tables and benches were bolted to the floor and there was what looked like a cafeteria serving line along one wall with a dark kitchen beyond.

The lady crew member said something in a foreign language and gestured to a coffee maker and some shelving with snack foods at one end of the serving line, then paused as she walked out the door to hold up one hand, as if to indicate we were to wait there.

"I can't believe it!" McGonnigle said with excitement, almost running over to the coffee and snacks. "Do you know how long it's been since I've had a cup of tea?"

There was the clinking of a porcelain mug as he took it off a shelf, filled it from a hot water tap next to the coffee, and then paused to look at a selection of tea bags.

My body was still pumped full of adrenaline from the escape in the speedboat and I stood nervously by one of the tables, trembling. Patting my chest, I felt something inside my shirt, and remembered an envelope that Anastasia had handed me before we left the citadel. I sat down at a table and opened it.

McGonnigle flopped down at the end of one of the benches and straddled it so he could lean back against the wall. He seemed completely relaxed now, taking careful sips of his hot tea and chucking to himself.

"What ya got there mate?" he asked. "Oh, right. Anastasia gave me this sort of care package. Let's have a look see." He pulled a similar envelope out of his shirt.

My envelope contained some money, though the bills were a foreign currency so I wasn't sure if it was a lot or just a modest amount to cover expenses to get back home. There were also some folded pieces of paper.

These were photocopies of newspaper articles, thankfully written in English, and covered the story of my employer and the yacht I had been traveling on before I fled to save my life. There had been a fire below decks early one morning, and many of the guests had been trapped in their cabins and didn't survive. My employer and most of the crew escaped in a life raft, and watched the burning yacht eventually sink. I know it had been his intention for me to die in that fire and I felt fortunate to be alive.

"Those birds found me passport!" McGonnigle exclaimed. He was looking at some documents that had obviously been waterlogged at one time and carefully dried out. It looked like he had also been given some money, but McGonnigle had just tossed the bills aside. Grinning, he just looked over his passport, periodically taking a sip of tea and laughing.

Other newspaper articles I'd been given covered my employer being under suspicion of murder regarding the fire on his yacht. Although it had sank far enough offshore, eliminating the hope of any rescue or fire fighting teams arriving in time to help, the water had been relatively shallow in that area. Authorities had been diving on the sunken yacht, recovering bodies, and finding evidence of foul play. A few people, including myself, were listed as missing.

I heard footsteps outside the door and a tall older woman walked into the room. She wore khaki pants, a white shirt with some stripes on the shoulders, and her steel gray hair was pulled back in a tight bun.

"Gentlemen, welcome aboard," she said with a thick accent that I couldn't place. She introduced herself as the ship's captain. "I've already met with your passengers, and the women of your crew. They speak highly of you." We introduced ourselves and the woman gave me a firm handshake.

"I see that you have some money," the captain said, nodding towards the stack of bills I had partially hidden under my paperwork, and McGonnigle's wad of cash lying out on the table. "However, the older couple you brought aboard already arranged to pay for your passage."

She explained that the ship would be passing close to McGonnigle's homeland in a few days and would let us off there. If we wished to get off at another location, it would cost us extra.

"Think it over, and if you like I can take you up to the bridge to see the course we have plotted. I'm sure we can work something out," she said with confidence.

"Is this your first time aboard a merchant ship?" she asked, and we both told her that it was. The captain explained that the ship was considered to be a tramp freighter. Smaller, independent cargos, and some passengers, transported as opportunities came up, as opposed to running any regular schedule.

"Let me guess. You maybe dropped off some supplies at the citadel and our passengers paid you to circle back after dark to pick us up?" I asked.

"Mr. Van, in my business I ask very few questions. I'm sure you're aware that the citadel is very private place and I can't tell you anything about them or any other clients," the captain said with a professional tone. "Bear in mind, I'll give you and Mr. McGonnigle the same discretion. If you wait here for a few minutes, I'll have someone show you to your quarters."

Realizing there was something else inside my shirt I pulled out a wadded up piece of cloth. It was the citadel's flag that I had taken off the speedboat just before it sank. McGonnigle was thrilled that I had taken it as a souvenir.

The next day I was feeling really good. From what I had seen so far of the freighter it might have been past its prime, but the food onboard was excellent. After lunch, McGonnigle and I had been approached by one of the ladies of the crew. She didn't speak English but was holding some electric clippers, scissors, and some razors.

I hadn't had a shave or haircut since I'd been at the citadel, and given the length and tangled mess of McGonnigle's hair and beard, we were both happy to follow her to an alcove out in the passageway where a chair was set up near a sink as an improvised barber shop. I was surprised at how much that improved my morale.

The captain had told us that we were free to move about the ship so long as we didn't get in the way of operations, whatever that meant. I was walking around one of the passageways and looked through the window of a door, and saw that the freighter had a small gym with some exercise equipment.

However, what really caught my eye was a petite brunette woman who was lounging back on an inclined weight bench. Her sports bra had been lifted up to expose her modest yet perfectly shaped breasts. Her shorts and panties were in a small pile on the floor to one side, and another woman was crouched down in front of her.

The lady on the weight bench had her eyes closed, and her hands were lightly caressing the hair of the other woman whose face was between her legs. The second lady had a stocky build and a rather butch looking haircut, and it occurred to me that the freighter might have an all lesbian crew.

I was still wearing the scrub type clothing I'd been given for my escape from the citadel, and the loose pants with no underwear offered no resistance as my penis became firmly erect.

The butch lady was wearing dirty coveralls like most of the women on the crew. She may have been walking by the gym and seen the pretty brunette working out in her time off, so she stopped in to chat, and one thing led to another.

No, these two had been together before. The butch lady knew just how to pleasure the brunette, who flexed out her hips, and raised her shapely legs. She hadn't even bothered to take off her bright white gym shoes, and wrapped her legs around her lover's back. In my mind I cursed the butch lady for mostly blocking my view as I adjusted my erection. I had no fear of them spotting me. They were clearly lost in the moment.

Suddenly a door opened at the end of the passageway. I quickly stepped to the side of the gym door and turned my body in hopes of hiding the bulge in my pants.

"Van!" called out the lady at the end of the hall, she seemed excited to see me and came running over.

It was Nichola, a young blonde who had been one of the guards at the citadel and was on the escape crew with myself, McGonnigle, and another woman. She wore her long blonde hair loose over her shoulders, and had changed from her black leathers to a loose fitting white t-shirt and grey sweat pants, though she still wore the black rubber boots with flat heels from the night of the escape. This was the first time since that night that I had seen her or anyone else from our crew, other than McGonnigle.

Nichola had seen the bulge in my pants. There was just no way to hide it. She took a quick peek through the window into the gym and just smiled at me. She didn't speak English and was trying to tell me something, maybe in several languages. Then she reached down to lightly touch my hard penis through my pants and said,

"I show... appreciate... grat-itude?"

My quarters were just up the stairs. A narrow little cabin I'd been sharing with McGonnigle, who thankfully wasn't there. I dropped my pants to my ankles and sat down on the edge of my bunk. Nichola wasted no time and knelt in front of me.

She began stroking my cock with one hand, and cautiously took the head of my penis into her mouth. I was reminded of a girlfriend back when I was in my early twenties, who had no interest in giving me blowjobs but would occasionally give in to my persistent requests. However, Nichola was interested in pleasuring me, out of some sense of gratitude for helping her to escape.

Briskly, and a bit too roughly at times, Nichola pumped on the base of my cock, while lightly sucking on only the first few inches. It seemed like forever since I'd had a blowjob. The last time had been on my employer's yacht, the night before I'd fled on a jet ski and ended up on an island, where I was taken to the citadel by women dressed in leather and boots.

On the yacht there had been women available for the guests, and I'd been sharing my bed with a young Asian lady. She had a special technique when sucking my cock where she pressed a thumb against the back of my scrotum, while easing one of her slender fingers up my asshole. Being Asian, it may have been some Kama Sutra technique, and I always came quickly in her mouth.

Although Nichola lacked those skills, her lips and tongue felt so good on the head of my penis. When combined with flashbacks of the Asian woman, and of course the two lesbian crew ladies that I had seen just a short time ago in the gym, I felt myself building towards a powerful orgasm.

Nichola sensed this, probably because of my heavy breathing. She let my penis out of her mouth and began to stroke the full length of it, now thankfully lubricated with her saliva. I let out a gasp and Nichola scooted to one side as a burst of cum shot from my penis. Her tight and aggressive strokes slowed to an easy pace with a soft grip, and she pumped out every last drop, letting my cum drip onto the floor.

As my breathing returned to normal, Nichola slipped into the small bathroom to wash her hands. Pulling up my pants, I reached into the bathroom beside her to pull some toilet paper off the roll so I could wipe up the floor.

When she came out of the bathroom I gently placed a hand on her waist, looked into her eyes and gave a few flicks of my tongue, because I would gladly go down on her in return. However, Nichola just smiled and shook her head. She turned away and opened the door to the hallway.

At that moment a woman from the freighter's crew happened to be walking by, one that spoke English, and I had an idea. I stopped the crew lady and asked her to talk to Nichola and act as a translator. I wanted to know why she escaped the island with us. After all, she worked at the citadel, so it didn't make sense to me that she would want to leave.

The crew lady gave me a look of suspicion, and briefly spoke with Nichola who then walked away.

"Come with me," the woman said and walked towards the stairwell. I followed her all the way up to the top floor. The wheelhouse was inside an open door off the hallway and she momentarily stepped inside as if looking for someone.

Then she knocked on a door across the hall, which had a sign that read, Kapitein. We were invited in. There was a comfortable office just inside the door, where the captain sat behind her desk. Through an open doorway to one side I could see her adjoining stateroom.

The crew woman spoke to the captain in a foreign language and then excused herself from the room. The captain invited me to sit down in a chair across from her desk. I suspected I might somehow be in trouble.

"Mr. Van, I understand you wanted to ask one of the ladies some questions about the citadel. As I told you when you came aboard, the citadel is a private place. You shouldn't ask any questions about it, be that with myself, my crew, or anyone who was there with you," she said flatly.

The captain told me that she could have me confined to my quarters but would prefer not to do so. However, I was firmly reminded not to ask any more questions about the citadel, and was told it was best that I never even mentioned the place to anyone once I got back on land.

When I left the room I had that old feeling of having been called into the principal's office and been lucky to have gotten off with a warning.

To my surprise, McGonnigle was in our cabin. I hadn't seen him much since we came on board the freighter, and he looked exhausted. I asked if he'd been working out in the gym.

"Nah, been down in the engine room. Ship's an old rust bucket but the ladies keep her running smooth. The chief engineer took quite a shine to me," he said with a sly grin. "She could fuck a man in two. She's a full figured gal!" We both laughed.

I shared my story about Nichola sucking my cock, and also told him about being taken to the captain's office.

"Not sure if you noticed, mate," McGonnigle said. "But the crew has been keeping us separated from the citadel lassies. They're bunking on the next deck up in the officer's quarters."

Although we'd originally been told we were free to walk around the ship, while McGonnigle had been taking a self-guided tour he ran into someone from the citadel upstairs. He was trying to chat with them and was quickly escorted off the floor by one of the ship's crew.

"Pretty sure they eat in the officer's dining room, which is why we haven't seen them about," he mused. "No worries though, they serve the same grub in the crew's mess and its good enough for me."

He was stripping off his clothes and getting into his bunk. I wanted to discuss our next move. While he had all of his documentation, I would be arriving in a foreign country without a passport. Not to mention we'd both been missing and people would want to know where we had been.

"No worries, mate. I've been up to the bridge and looked at their chart. The captain has a plan to get us ashore without papers, plus I know a thing or two about smuggling," McGonnigle said. "It's in me blood." He pulled a sheet over himself, rolled over, and to my amazement seemed to doze off immediately.

The next day I was hanging out in the crew's lounge, bored, but trying to stay out of the way and out of trouble with the captain. There was a large shelf of paperback books, the communal library I suppose.

I searched through the shelves and found what might have been the only books printed in English, written by Janet Evanovich. Stories about a lady bounty hunter, kind of a detective stories with some humor worked in, and I sat down to read for what might have been a few hours.

Reading in the lounge became my routine and a day or so later I heard the ship's horn give a series of blasts, and I could sense we were slowing down. I heard crew members walking through the hallway outside the lounge and I'll admit I was a bit nervous. Had I pissed off the captain and she turned the ship back to the citadel? Suddenly McGonnigle popped his head in the door.

"Come on, mate. You gotta see this," he said with excitement in his voice. He was with a heavyset blonde woman who wore her hair in a long ponytail, and her dirty coveralls were unzipped to show off her ample cleavage. I assumed she was the engineer he'd hooked up with.

A group of crew members were gathered outside by the railing, where a gate had been opened. A yacht was pulling up along the side. It was smaller and more conservative looking than my employer's yacht, but was probably just as capable of crossing oceans.

"She's from France," McGonnigle said, pointing to the flag flying on top of the yacht's wheelhouse. "I suspect our passengers from the citadel are getting off."

As if on cue the elderly couple came up behind us and walked over to the railing. One of the freighter's crew followed behind them carrying the old military duffle bags that had been our cargo.