Abduction

Part 7 Escape!

Morning - Celia awoke with a start. Where was she? Her heart was racing; she had been having the most extraordinary dream. She had been in the unusual situation of being chased by a unicorn, of all things, along a lonely beach; it had been gaining on her but then it wasn't a unicorn but a man, a naked man running but he still had the unicorn's horn in place of his penis.

Her breathing slowed; it had been just a dream but then it came to her, seeing lovely Natasha's head on the pillow beside her, that she was trapped, abducted to a beach house by the old man and his accomplices and the unicorn's horn and erect man were just so symbolic of Natasha and her predicament. There had been six erections the night before - how many penes might there be for her today?

She recalled the old man had said it was the last day of the 'holiday' - ha, some holiday, and then they would go home. Did he really mean that: were they going to be released? Was it all nearly over? But he had also mentioned a few visitors, 'some old friends' in for morning coffee and something to nibble. Celia had no illusion what the 'something' to nibble would be. How many 'old friends?' She was sure it would be an ordeal.

Breakfast seemed no different from the other days. In a way nice to sit in the sunshine with the sea across the sand and eat the cereals and fruit provided but, despite the chattiness of the old man, Natasha and she were worried. What was in store for them?

"You can have a little run down the beach and a swim if you like before our visitors arrive.

"How many will be coming?"

Celia saw the two minders glance at each other and smile. She knew with a sinking feeling a lot would be coming and, no doubt, 'coming' in or around Natasha and herself. It had been a silly word to use.

But it was good to get out of the house, good to run hand in hand with her friend down to the sea. Nice to stand talking, feeling a little away from the old man's influence, to talk of escape and reporting them all to the police; talking of what they would do together after it all was over, back at the university. Very together, was Celia's hope.

The sea was so calm, like the proverbial millpond.

Walking towards them along the margin between sea and sand was an old be-whiskered man, clearly a man of the sea He was seemingly beachcombing. Old faded blue jeans, dark salt stained blue cap and even a blue knitted jersey which, Celia thought, was perhaps an over precaution as the day was warming nicely. The girls watched him as he came closer, They were not surprised to see his interest change from the flotsam and jetsam along the beach to them.

"Hello," they said.

"Good mornin', fine mornin', fine mornin' indeed." His eyes darted from their faces downwards and then back again. His eyes under big eyebrows seemed to be squinting, at their edges a mass of wrinkles radiated betraying years of staring across the sea but the eyes were noticeably liquid and seemed to sparkle in the sun. Through his beard his lips were smiling and friendly. "About to take a dip? You seem dressed or," a bit of a wheeze of a laugh," undressed for it."

"We. we haven't swimming things. You see we're being held..."

"Well, I'm not saying I'm against the council's idea of a naturalists' beach..."

"Naturist," said Celia automatically.

"Ah, maybe, it's not as if I've not swum... didn't have swimmin' trunks with me half the time on board ship. Remember once we was anchored off this island in the South Seas waiting for... let's say a rendezvous and we went ashore in a rowin' boat much like the one yonder, to takes a look and stretch our legs and we all went swimmin' naked as you are now. Course we was all men."

Celia wondered about that. All men cooped up on a ship. She wondered whether the naked swimming had become rather 'frolicsome." A strange sight.

"Another time I was, let me recall..."

It was true, Celia thought, these old sea dogs did like to yarn.

"I was crewin' this yacht and the owner, millionaire and more you know, liked out o' port to dispense with clothes. He'd asked if I minded and course I'd said 'no.' Needed the work and I'd seen who his guests were and they were young and female. What I hadn't expected was he wanted us crew naked as well. Well, for the young lads that would ha' been decorative, perhaps, but I couldn't see the young ladies thinkin' much of an old grey like me sailin' the ship and climbin' the riggin,' such as it was, with me old tackle swingin' but..." Again the wheezing laugh. "Let's say I was not excluded from their shenanigans."

It was all rather a confidence about the old man's past. Celia rather suspected he was not just yarning but particularly enjoying trying to shock them. Such tales were hardly going to do that after their weekend's experiences!

"Well, best be gettin' on."

The girls watched the old man walking away towards an old rowing boat. They looked at each other and shook their heads. What a strange old boy!

"Shall we swim," asked Natasha.

"It's his boat," said Celia.

And it seemed the rowing boat was indeed his as he was pulling it down to the sea. As one the girls moved towards it.

"Oh, could we have a ride?"

"In me boat? Well, yes, yes if you like." He pulled it into the sea and stood holding it with his legs in the water. "Hop in."

The boat rocked as Natasha and then Celia got in. The old seaman pushed it a little further into the water and then with surprising agility for his age heaved himself in over the gunwale.

"Now girls you sits in the sternsheets - aft."

They settled themselves as the old boy fitted the oars into the rowlocks and sat down on the centre thwart and began to row, pulling the boat out into the sea.

Celia looked at Natasha, Natasha looked at Celia - surely they had escaped. Looking behind them and on the shore they could see the minders and the old man come out of the beach house and look towards them but, it seemed, there was nothing they could do. No other boat on the shore. No fast motor boat to catch them. They looked wonderfully impotent. Celia smiled to herself - she liked that idea.

The old seaman paused in his rowing, "How long a trip would you like, Miss?" He said as he pulled off his old blue pullover.

"Oh no!" Celia looked round at the man, "we don't want a round trip."

The man was looking a little downwards and certainly not back to the shore. Celia realised her leg were not exactly closed and he was, unsurprisingly, appraising her sex. She closed her legs tightly.

Celia wanted to tell the man about what had been happening but when she opened her mouth it wouldn't come out and probably, she thought, left her looking a bit fish like with her mouth open and silently closing. It was the old man's influence.

"Could... could we go to the harbour."

"The fishin' harbour?"

"Mmmm."

"Suppose so, but you're not dressed for shoppin' or much else 'sides... never mind."

The old seaman looked puzzled but after a bit he pulled to the left and brought the boat around parallel to the shore. His rowing was steady and fine.

They rowed on in silence for a time. Celia looked to the shore but there was no sign of Mr Levinson or the minders. She watched the water slipping past the boat and then looked more closely at the rowing boat itself. It was surprisingly tidy and there were various ropes so neatly coiled or tied that she had to comment. The old man became quite animated at their interest and talked about knots and rope work for quite a time. The old seaman certainly knew his trade.

"Hot work. Not that I'm not used to it, m'dears."

He unbuttoned his shirt and the girls could see he was sweating freely. If anything his rowing became a little stronger. Perhaps, thought, Celia it was a man thing - showing off to the girls. Certainly he was strong and from what she could see under his shirt he was more muscle than fat. When he removed his shirt Celia could see her appraisal was more than accurate, his arms bulged with strength and many a young man would have envied his torso if not the grey hairs and evidence of past misuse - not a few scars.

What rather surprised Celia and Natasha as well - Celia could see the surprise on her face. Was when the old seaman paused and started to undo his jeans.

"Seein' as you are all naked like, I don't see why I shouldn't join you. Better purchase on the thwart with naked buttocks, you know, less constricting and cooler. Give you somethin' to look at as well!" Again the wheezing laugh, "ha, some't to look at!"

In a way the girls did not know where to look. They had seen enough naked men, enough of men's tackle that weekend to last, well, a whole year at least, but there right before their eyes, was the old seaman naked but for his cap with his frog like penis and balls lying on his open thighs as he pulled on the oars. It kept catching the girls' eyes as it flopped from first one thigh, then to the other as the boat moved. Flip, flop, flip, flop. It was not little either. There was no hint of erection about it: it was just big when small, so to speak.

"About half way to the harbour. Why the harbour?"

Celia swallowed. Were they far enough from the old man's influence to speak?

"We've been kidnapped you see and..."

It all started to come out, their tongues seemed loosened, and they were telling the old seaman about their capture and what had happened to them. He shook his head and made tut-tutting noises.

But as they talked, as they described something of their experience both could see the old seaman was not unmoved. He might have been verbally sympathetic, probably was in reality in his mind sympathetic but the other part of him was finding the descriptions exciting - in a sexual way. The girls could not miss his penis sitting up and starting to look around.

"White slavers you think? Why I remember..."

"No, no, they said, the old man, Mr Levinson, said he was releasing us... releasing us today."

"And you believed him?"

"Yes and no. Seemed best to escape with you especially with what he had in store for us today... he said nothing about parcelling us up and sending us on, rather there were going to be a lot of visitors."

"And what were they going to do?"

Natasha was suddenly cross, "What were they going to do? Fuck us, I expect, one after another - in here (she opened her legs and pointed) or in our bottoms or more likely they'd expect us to suck one whilst one went in here and another in our bottoms. Get the picture? Can you imagine that?"

The old seaman was rowing with considerable vigour, his muscles to both arms and thighs straining, the sweat standing all over his body and with his penis as hard and firm as any man could wish for and pointing up at the sky. It was more than evident the old seaman could imagine just what Natasha had been describing and she suddenly realised just what she had done.

"Sorry," she said, her eyes on the erection. It was after all very obviously present and swaying side to side with the boat's movement. It had not caused the old seaman to cease his rowing.

"Did that hurt?" Natasha was referring to the tattoo rising all the way up the penis' shaft - a dragon curled all around the fleshy pole.

"Yep, certainly did. Years back in Japan. The girl who did it, though, had such a nice way of keeping it hard whilst she worked I hardly noticed. Had to be worked on like that. She made it go soft at the end of each session as well," again the wheezy laugh.

"But surely it'd just go soft by itself. Wouldn't need anything special... oh!"

Celia thought Natasha had been a little slow on the uptake. "I think," she said, " Mr. err..."

"Bill."

"... Bill means the lady in question made the..."

"...dragon spit," wheezed the old salt. "Well, well, so I'm takin' you to safety; doing my good deed for the day. What could be nicer, doing something good for a change and being able to do it on the sea, which I love, with two beautiful young ladies, and I've always liked the ladies, them naked to boot - and I've never said no to that: but what's more being all worked up in their company and naked as well!"

They rowed on, the harbour starting to become visibly bigger but the man's penis visibly getting very much smaller..

"Can we pay you?"

"What with? Have you some notes tucked away somewhere?" His wheezing laugh again.

"No," said Natasha a little indignantly.

The old seaman smiled and pulled on his oars. He may not have said anything but it was obvious what he was thinking because once more his penis stirred and the dragon stood up.

"Oh," said Natasha.

It was not at all out of the frying pan into the fire. The old seaman was not forcing himself on the girls but the implication of what he would like as payment was rather obvious - very much there in front of them.

"Would you like us to make the, um, dragon spit?"

"Well, m'dears, that'd do most kindly but don't hurry yerselves, we is not there yet."

Natasha looked at Celia and she shrugged. The night before they had been handling penes: now they were going to be doing it again. There seemed no escape from that.

Natasha reached forward and gently fondled the man's hairy balls. There was no let up in his rowing but if anything his big thighs went a little wider and his smile got broader.

Her fingers so gentle. Celia knew how gentle they could be. She watched for a time and then lent forward and ran her forefinger up the underside of the old boy's erection. It bounced, a real leap upwards. She laughed and did it again and then again. Natasha was smiling and the old man's wheezing laugh came. It was all so incongruous. Two naked girls sitting in a rowing boat with an old man rowing but naked and with the two girls playing with his penis balls.

"Let me try." And Natasha did the same. She too giggled as it jumped and then began gently easing the old wrinkled foreskin up and down. With her finger Celia traced the dragon tattoo before closing her forefinger and thumb around the shaft and moving her fingers up and down in time with Natasha.

The old seaman sighed and Natasha and she took their fingers away thinking they were about to set him off. There was a good distance still to the harbour and they were both of the mind to give him a pleasant memory of his kindness.

The old salt had a big grin on his bearded face - hardly surprising really with two young girls playing with his penis. With his legs spread wide he was giving them plenty of access.

They were careful; they worked it together; they prolonged his pleasure; careful to stop when the penis bounced a little too enthusiastically; careful to use light finger tip touches for much of the time; but eventually Celia had to say they were getting a little near their destination.

Natasha began to work it with purpose and Celia cupped her hands at the end of the old seaman's penis ready to catch what was to come.

It was to the old boy's credit that he did not falter, there was not a hint of a variation in his stroke - he most certainly did not 'catch a crab' - when he began to come. The sudden appearance of white shooting from it up into the air. Natasha's fingers moving fast and steadily as she pumped him: the warm semen spurting and pooling in Celia's upturned hands.

Celia and Natasha looked at each other and nodded. They had done a good job! Natasha looked down at the pool of semen lying in Celia's hands and shrugged. It was not a bad effort - the old seaman had produced a goodly amount of semen. The dragon had spat!

Trailing her hands in the water Celia let the stuff wash away - food for the fish no doubt!

"Ahoy Bill! Been fishing?"

The wheezing laugh, "Just landing the catch. I'll explain. Up you go girls, careful now."

Celia and Natasha climbed up the stone steps, the lower ones a little slippery with weed but their naked feet giving good purchase.

A couple of men, clearly men of the sea - most likely fishermen, they smelt of fish - waited at the top, their calloused hands reaching and welcoming. From below Bill called, "You'd better pop in't hut there girls. Don't want people seeing you like that. Let's get something on you - see if we can tie a dress or some'it."

An unusual expression, thought Celia, perhaps idiomatic.

The seaman indicated an old tarred wooden shed and the girls hurried through its door. No sooner in than Celia felt strong hands grabbing her wrists and a gag being pulled against her mouth and tied. Her eyes instantly wide. It was happening again! She stared expecting to see the old man sitting and shaking his head at them but he was not there - nor the minders. Were Natasha and she literally out of the frying pan and into the fire?

Behind them the door opened again. "Well, m'dears, time indeed to dress you in someit; I told you I was good with knots as seaman are, how about a nice little woven rope dress?"

"Mmphh."

"Don't worry. it's nice soft hemp, it'll feel good on your naked skin. Told you I'd been in Japan. Well, ropes and knots always fascinated me, so important on board ship, but they find other uses. I'm going to make you each a nice little rope dress - the Japs call it a 'Karada' you know."

The girls were held tightly by the fishermen.

"It's really comfortable but does not really cover very much up at all - just the way we seaman like our women! Ties up a bit like a large mesh you see. Zakky here would have fitted yer up with a nice netting dress. He's good with the needle had we had your measurements. A nice tight fitting fishing net suit, holding you all tight, coverin' everything but showin' everything - all yer little bits n' pieces showin' n' pokin' through the net. Couldn't yer, Zakky?"

"Sure could," said the man holding Celia. She could feel his old jeans rough against her bottom. He evidently liked the idea of the net: Celia could feel movement within the jeans. He was erecting against her bottom.

"Course there has to be an opening in the net to let the fish in doesn't there, Zakky? Where'd that be?"

"Twixt legs."

The wheezing laugh, "Aye, to let the old codfish swim in one after another, eh Zakky? Your cods first, I'll be bound."

"Aye!" Zakky was rubbing himself through his jeans up and down Celia's bottom.

"The Karada, like Zakky's net, hides nothin' but, yer see, gives a lot of points to tie other ropes and things to; makes a woman easy to control n' firmly bind for spanking, fuckin' or other recreational purposes - just the way we seaman like our women!"

Bill picked up a coil of rope, "ten yard or so should do the trick.

Celia watched as Bill unwound the rope and carefully selected what she thought must be the centre point of the rope and draped it loosely around Natasha's neck. Between Natasha's big brown breasts he twisted the two ends around each other three times. Crouching he parted Natasha's legs but she pulled them tight together again.

"Now, don't be difficult, young lady. Sam?"

The fisherman holding Natasha interposed a leg between Natasha's and, between Bill and him, her legs were prised open. The two rope ends were tucked through Natasha's legs and knotted once just there. As Bill drew the two ends upwards Celia realised the knot were going to sit right on Natasha's little button.

The ends went across Natasha's hips and looped under the front ropes before Bill crossed them over at the back and brought each to the front and through the lowest of the front twists and then back again crossing once more over her back to catch the next twist and then the last twist. To Natasha's front Celia saw the rope was making a diamond pattern with her breasts within the shapes.

"Lookin' good," said Bill.

He brought the two ends up her back and through the neck loop and then down her back; more looping and tying and there was Natasha quite trussed up. Celia knew to the men it would make her look even sexier than usual. Another time, another place and it would have been fun to tie each other up like that. If she could remember how all the knots went. Tied up but not tied.