Twas On The Good Ship Venus

"Bananas! Bananas!" he yelled at me. "How stupid can you be?"

This was the captain yelling at me as he saw my packed lunch as I opened it after sunbathing on his old-style sailing ship. I was on holiday somewhere hot and had decided to take a days sailing on an old style brigantine - the sort of ship a pirate might have sailed. For a bondage kinkster like me it was like a second heaven to be surrounded by miles of rope, rope to climb, rope to pull, rope tied in knots and all that in a setting of old and seasoned timber.

I had nearly cried earlier when I learned that as I was the only guest they were going to cancel the cruise. Fortunately it did not take much of an additional "contribution" to crew funds to persuade then to take me for a trip, albeit maybe shorter than usual.

With this settled, we set off. I looked around the ship, felt the wind blow my hair and the warmth of many male eyes burning my skin. This increased when I stripped to my bikini and settled on a flat area towards the bow and closed my eyes to sunbathe. With my eyes closed I felt the breeze caress my body and heard the wind tease the sails. As I was feet first, so to speak, I also felt the whispy wind fingers run up the inside of my legs and evaporate on contact with the crotch of my swimwear. This was tanatalisingly real, yet ephemeral.

I knew that while the crew (six, I think) busied themselves the also watched me closely.

......

At around noon I took out my packed lunch and that was when all hell let loose. I had just peeled the banana when the captain screamed at me. He continued shouting that bringing a banana on a ship was the height of bad luck and that it was a crime that needed paying for. As he and the crew crowded me, he gave me two choices. The first was to leave the ship immediately, but as we were a mile or so from shore this did not seem like a good idea. The second was to accept his judgement and to "pay" the crew "dues".

His eyes and tone suggested that I not mess with him, else the options might well shrink to one.....and I was not ready for a long swim.

"I accept your judgement and will pay my dues," I heard myself say rather meekly, and with this four crew members picked me up and carried me to the capstan.

This is the large wooden post into which bars can be inserted for men to push on as they pull up the anchor or possibly a heavy sail. I was planted stomach down atop the capstan, bare wood on bare flesh and my arms and legs stretched as if in a star. The men then inserted the bars under my arms and legs and I was tied using salty, smelly rope taken from the racks at the side. I was not just tied, but each limb was bound as if in a rope sleeve along its length, encasing limb and wooden bar, ankle to thigh, wrist to bicep. I was helpless, scared and loving it. I had only dreamed of being restrained in such conditions and now a piece of fruit had been the trigger.

The captain stood near my head and grasped my hair. He lifted my eyes level with his wide, cracked, leather belt as he unbuckled with one hand and pulled it through the loops of his trousers. A final flick, sounding more like a crack of thunder. I was beginning to swim in the delight of my situation, but I heard him announce five strokes.

The next thing I felt was buring fire across my arse. It was the first of the strokes and as I was set upon unforgiving wood, my arse had to absorb the full energy of his strike. Naturally I yelled; even if I had wanted to remain silent, I could not. Not with the surprise and the pain. Strangely the next four did not seem so bad. I am sure he used as much energy with each as with the first, but the sponge that is my body was soaking this up.

At the end of five strokes, tears coursed down my cheeks and you could have fried eggs on my bum. So it was with further surprise that I felt a pull at first one side of my bikini bottoms and then the next as the strings were cut and the clothe pulled roughly from under me, frictioning against my engorged clit as it went.

"The little tarts aroused by this," said the captain as he passed my cut pants around to each member of crew, each inhaling deeply as it went.

"Let's cool her down then see what fun we can have."

A bucket of cold water was thrown over my back and imagined steam rising for my derriere. The captain then walked in front of me again and lifted one of the wooden pins used to hold the ropes. The type that have a bulbous end and a collar and are around 10 inches long. This one was black with use and shining smooth too.

"Can you take this?"

I shook my head, but that made no matter as that wooden phallus was soon pushing between my swollen labia and entering my wet and welcoming hole. I think I surprised everyone, including myself when it went straight in, first time. It felt so good, I was full, burning and just lost to the moment. He worked it hard, pushing against my cervix on most thrusts. He had one hand holding my arse down and while his other arm rammed as if loading a cannon. It did not take long for my first orgasm to rise and rip through me.

He kept going until I had crested three times and then he lost interest. He left me to the crew for the rest to the afternoon. Between sailing home they took it in turns to screw this woman tied to the capstan, so available and so inviting. They did nothing more than screw me, more than once some of them, and it seems that was their dues.

I was released just before we reached harbour and I did not see the captain until I looked back from the dock. I had put on shorts and a shirt, but the rope patterns covered my limbs like tattoos and my gait was a little unsteady. No one said 'thank you' or 'good bye'. It was just done. Maybe it was just another day for them, but for me it was one to savour.