Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.
*****
Reader note Tess O'Meter -- Red.
I am naked.
My wrists and ankles are stretched painful away from my body, muscles starting to quiver from the strain.
I don't know how long I have been here; it seems like all day.
It's all a bit blurry really.
Last night, as I was walking back to my hotel, I passed some local guy who smiled at me.
"This is for my sister," he said before smashing his fist into my sternum.
I landed heavily on my knees, retching, and couldn't do a damn thing to protect myself when my hands were yanked back and secured behind me.
A cloth was dragged over my head, and still coughing and gasping, I was thrown into the trunk of a car.
Once I had my wits back, I tried yelling and screaming for help, but no one came.
The car stopped and I yelled some more.
I heard the trunk open and tried to pull in some air, then I froze as what was unmistakably a blade was pressed against my balls.
"One more sound out of you and I'll cut them off and feed them to my dog, which is no more than you deserve you fucking rapist."
I shook my head but spoke carefully and quietly, so as not to spook the guy who had my manhood at his mercy, "Sir, I promise you, I haven't raped anyone."
My balls were crushed in his huge fist and I cried out.
"You think my sister lied, you think her injuries were what, playing fucking volleyball on the beach?"
"I think there's been a mistake," I managed at a whimper.
"Yea Motherfucker, you made a big fucking mistake," he confirmed, before letting me go and slamming the trunk lid shut.
I lay shaking in the dark, my balls throbbing, sniffing up tears. I couldn't get the hood off or get my hands free.
Who did they think I was?
I'd never hurt anyone.
Okay, I like watching dodgy porn but who doesn't? That's why they make the damn stuff.
This wasn't fair.
I lay, feeling scared and sorry for myself, the air in the trunk on this hot Caribbean night, getting hotter and thinner.
Eventually, dizzy, and terrified, I passed out.
I had come round the following morning, with the help of a bucket of water being thrown into my face.
Spluttering and coughing, shaking my hair out of my eyes, I blinked up at two enormous women who were standing laughing at me.
"Rise and shine," one said and threw another bucket.
Disoriented and dehydrated, it took me a moment to realize that I was still bound, but now my hands were above me.
I was half sat on a small stool, suspended from a tree in a backyard.
I gasped, coughed, cleared my lungs, and got a firmer seat on the stool.
"There's been a mistake," I began calmly, "I haven't done anything. Maybe another American on the island? I can help you if you are looking for someone, someone who's done something bad, but it wasn't me."
I watched them and they watched me.
My heart was pounding, I swear it must have been like a cartoon through my soaked T-Shirt.
One of the women came forward and leaning down, shocked me by running her tongue up the side of my face from my chin to my temple.
I tensed in discomfort, but God help me, felt my fucking stupid cock spring to immediate attention.
She looked at my cock, now tenting my shorts and looked back at me, "You're a liar," she said softly.
I started to explain my innocence more forcefully, but the second women shoved a wad of material into my mouth and then some tape around my head.
I could make no more than muffled protests.
They looked down at me, trembling, bound beneath them.
Then they both started to remove each other's clothing, caressing each other as they went. Tops off, shorts and skirts pushed down, revealing bikini clad, muscular, beautifully proportioned bodies.
I groaned as my cock tried to climb out of my shorts and they looked down at me, their eyes gleaming with triumph, like they had proven some point.
'For fucks sake,' I wanted to yell at them, 'what man who is still breathing, faced by two almost naked real-life Amazon Goddesses, touching each other, is not going to get hard?'
All they could hear was my wide-eyed mumbling.
All they could see was my aroused, trembling, sweating body and my eyes unable to look away from their astounding beauty.
I was fucking doomed.
One of the women grabbed my T-Shirt so forcefully that she nearly pulled me from the seat. She then ripped it straight down, exposing my chest and abs.
Humming a tune to herself, she started to explore me with her hands, even as the second woman grabbed the back of my T-Shirt and ripped it clean off.
They explored my flesh at their leisure and before long I was moaning.
Louder when my shorts went the same way as my T-Shirt, and I was completely at their mercy.
Next, they cheerfully scrubbed me with coarse brushes and rough hands. I started to cry again when they cleaned me intimately.
I felt so helpless and I could do nothing to stop them hurting me. Which they did.
My whole body was scrubbed, my hair was shampooed, then the soap rinsed off with more buckets of freezing cold water.
I hung, semi suspended as they left me to dry, sitting close by with cold cans and chatting about some woman on the island.
I stopped sniveling and tried to listen; they were talking about me.
"It's good timing that she is on the island, she will know how to deal with him."
"HA! Poor bastard."
"She's here several more days, although he may not last that long."
"She will be pleased, and Old Betty is so happy that we have found a suitable present for The Lady."
"Old Betty is happy that she didn't have to spend her money or give up one of her slaves."
They both giggled.
I was amazed.
There were rumors about this island. That it was basically run by the women and the men were little more than slaves.
They were talking almost like it was true.
And who was this Lady?
Deciding that I was dry enough they came back over and examined me again.
Running her fingers through my hair, which needed a trim and was starting to curl, one of them said, "Should we shave his head as well?"
"No," the older woman shook her head, running her hand over my jaw," The Lady likes her scruff and a good head of hair. We'll leave that, it will please her."
They had then moved into my view a couple of cutthroat razors, and I nearly died from fright right then.
They started to rub oil into my body, and I tried to calm my breathing, jittery from terror and the pleasure of their touch.
They weren't going to kill me. I was a present for someone wasn't I? I would have a chance of escape.
There was no chance of escape as they both picked up a razor and started to shave me.
My chest, stomach and most intimate places were left bare, and somehow unmanly, despite my desperate gagged pleas for mercy.
I had started to feel unlike myself.
I had started to feel like a thing.
Hopeless against their superior strength I had been placed back into a car and driven a short distance, then marched along a beach towards a small group of trees, sticking up from the sand.
In this small area of shade, created by five spindly mangrove trees, their roots buried deep in the sand, I had been tied spread-eagled.
The area was deserted, nothing but a small bungalow on the beach above me, but no sign of life.
Ours were the only footsteps in the sand.
Once I was bound securely, they removed my gag.
I tried again as they attached some sort of note to my wrist.
"Please, I swear. I didn't rape anyone, it wasn't me."
"Then you must have a double."
"Please, it's a mistake," I pleaded.
The older women bent down and stroked my face, not unkindly, "I sincerely hope for your sake that's not the case," she said.
Standing again she gave her last words of wisdom.
"Don't make a fuss, no one will hear you. The Lady will find you if it is meant. You are hers now."
Then they had left me.
Hours ago.
- x
I lay, pulled apart, fading in and out as the sea crashes against the beach.
I'm so thirsty, I can't even swallow, and I'm starting to think that I have been left here to die.
I'm not sure what's real anymore, so when I see a figure walking down the beach, I watch without much interest.
I'm probably imagining it.
The figure gets closer and seems to spot me, heading my way with a smile.
Maybe she's real. I try to call out but it's just a rasp.
She comes closer.
Bare feet, shorts and vest top, big floppy hat, sunglasses, and hair that has been teased into a tangled mess by the breeze.
This isn't what I imagined when they spoke of The Lady.
This could be a random tourist, or local, and I'm naked, spread-eagled, and helpless.
For Christ's sake, why am I getting hard again? Like this isn't embarrassing enough. What the hell is wrong with me?
The woman reaches me.
She is carrying a large tumbler of icy orange juice, the glass sweating, and as she leans over to read the note tied to my bound wrist, freezing wet drops are scattered across my body, making me jump.
I'm suddenly unbearable thirsty, I try to speak but there is no sound.
She leans down and places her cold glass on my stomach.
I can't see her eyes, but she hasn't offered to let me drink, which seems wrong.
She places a finger on my lips as I try to speak again.
"Hush now, or it will be worse for you."
Warning, "Don't spill my drink," before she starts to explore my body with her hands.
Her nails scrap across my nipples, making me jump and she grabs her drink before it spills, hissing at me.
"Sorry," I manage to croak out, whimpering as she grips my hair and yanks my head back.
"You will address me as Mistress, and not speak without permission," she informs me.
Oh, Shit it's her, it's The Lady.
"Sorry Mistress," I managed, and her grip turns to a stroke.
"Are you thirsty? Would you like some of this?" she asks kindly.
"Yes, please Mistress," I say, momentarily relieved before she crushes my hope by pouring the icy drink all over my chest and stomach.
She picks up an ice cube and sucks absently on it as she watches me struggling to hold back tears.
Smirking at my bobbing cock.
I have literally no idea why I'm turned on right now, because this normal looking woman is terrifying.