Lois Atkinson – one time Junior League young matron, educated at an exclusive East Coast private school, at some lost point in time socially prominent in her affluent suburb – stirred in her sleep. The pale light of dawn pierced the windows of the spacious sea cruiser where she lay, a pale slim shape, on a narrow mattress on the deck. Her head hurt vaguely, a result of the previous day's constant sipping of vodka. But she needed that, she told herself, to dull the indignities and sexual humiliation to which her companions subjected her throughout each day and night.
As her consciousness surfaced and she turned onto her back, she was made aware that her soft buttocks still carried the smart from where, two days earlier, Fancha had handcuffed her slender wrists to a staple high on a post, and thoroughly whipped her white ass with a lithe cane for a perceived lack of enthusiasm in her duties; which in this instance involved repeatedly licking and sucking the Haitian's plump labia and puckered asshole until she came. Sobbing and struggling helplessly, she was desperate for the excruciating punishment to stop, and once freed, willingly performed her task, to Fancha's considerable satisfaction.
As she sat up, the stinging emanating from the soft flesh of her bottom was joined by a dull ache in her tender rectum. Junior Allen – her smiling, powerful, sinister captor – had taken her in the rear early on, and her anal orifice was his preferred point of entry. Evidently he enjoyed the shocked and shameful reaction provoked in his victim by this outrageous form of incursion; Lois had never imagined such an activity existed, let alone that she would be repeatedly subjected to it; her husband had never expressed more than a cursory interest in things sexual.
Her ass had adapted to a degree to the thrusting presence of Junior Allen's engorged member, and she no longer experienced the sharp anal pain of the first few assaults. However, he seemed to savor a degree of pain in his partner, and aggressively ploughed her till she was crying in discomfort and humiliation. Now, she feared, her anus was stretched permanently open, and she flinched at the thought of the contents of her bowels leaking through the gaping entrance; a fear enhanced by feeling the trickle of come that was the residue of Junior's last incursion.
Her daily routine was now more or less established. Upon awakening, Junior Allen would roughly take her in her mouth, obliging her to suck him until he came, which he did with great vigor, holding her ears tightly so that the hot spurts hit the back of her soft throat. She had become better at controlling her gag reflex, and could now take him deep; still, he enjoyed thrusting into her as far as possible and watching with keen enjoyment as she struggled to swallow his copious emissions without choking.
Once or twice he had placed her on her back on the counter, draped her legs over his shoulders and fucked her pussy, studying her expressions as he moved back and forth. But he appeared to derive greater satisfaction from inflicting the humiliation of oral and anal entry; and she was always obliged to lick him clean afterwards, a particularly distasteful activity when he had been in her ass. Apart from an old man's shirt worn open, she was always naked, her rear and front on display to her captors.
Throughout the hours she cleaned and cooked. In the course of the long day Junior Allen would usually seize her dark, soft hair at least once and force her to her knees to suck and swallow. When he was done with her, it was Fancha's turn. Sometimes in private, sometimes in front of Junior Allen, Lois would be obliged to serve the Haitian harlot's whims, pressing her pale, shocked face into the innermost recesses of Fancha's pussy and asshole to lick and suck her with her pretty pointed tongue. As evening came, Junior and Fancha would confer about Lois' behavior that day. Had she been utterly compliant? Had she shown enthusiasm? Was she acquiring skill in performing her appointed tasks? Invariably there was a reproof, resulting in the girl, pleading and protesting, being placed in the handcuffs high on the cabin post.
Stretched on tiptoe, she looked fearfully over her shoulder as Fancha – the appointed agent of punishment – fetched either the lithe cane or (if Lois' transgressions were not so very severe) a short whip. She was a mistress of slow, deliberate punishment, judging finely the moment when the pain from one stripe had started to recede, which called for a new infliction. Her aim was also excellent, allowing her (if she chose) to lay one stripe directly on top of another, to Lois' agonized consternation. The instrument of pain selected, Fancha then gleefully chastised Lois' squirming delicate buttocks, white thighs, and lower back – occasionally the girl's small breasts and flat, soft stomach - with anywhere from six to fifteen strokes. In the latter case, once released Lois would collapse into a weeping, mewing, boneless heap on the deck, her screams and sobs having been completely disregarded.
Junior Allen, smiling as always, then simply picked her up, dropped her face down on his bunk, spat on his hand to lubricate his by now rigid cock, spread apart the girl's buttocks and thrust into her squirming rectum, alternating deep and shallow strokes so that Lois gasped and cried out repeatedly, impaled and writhing helplessly beneath his heavy, powerful body, until he was satisfied. Certainly her cries and protests encouraged him to draw out the ordeal; he always continued steadily until Lois was completely subdued, all resistance gone. When her sobbing had quieted and she no longer struggled, when she simply gasped and reflexively tightened the walls of her rectum on his flesh as he thrust almost to her heart; then he would speed up his pace and roar with pleasure as he peaked, the voice emanating from his broad chest drowning the thin squeal – was it of pain, embarrassment, or perhaps pleasure? - that Lois gave as she felt her innermost depths sprayed with a seemingly endless series of hot, gushing spurts.
Dawn had broken and Junior Allen would be requiring his early morning oral attentions. She stood up, rinsed her mouth, and plodded over to his bunk. If she kneeled beside him as he lay and began to stimulate him with her mouth, sometimes he would lie back and allow her to pleasure him, instead of thrusting deep into her throat. He was erect, a good eight inches of engorged, uncircumcized flesh sticking straight up. Lowering her head, she kissed the purple tip, licked it thoroughly, then popped it into her mouth. Sucking slowly and carefully, she drew it in for almost its full length; paused, while caressing the shaft with her tongue; then let it slide back through her full lips. He stirred, so she quickly repeated the motion. Feeling her master's gaze on her she opened her soft, beautiful eyes wide to acknowledge him respectfully; he enjoyed seeing her doe-like, submissive expression as her mouth was stretched wide by his thick cock.
She looked up obediently as she sucked him; she felt a trickle of pre-come on the head, and took care to swallow it as she moved her head slowly up and down. On this occasion Junior seemed content to allow her to service him; a few more attentions and she felt his shaft thicken, his body shifted and he began to come. Almost without warning her mouth was filled with warm, fountaining liquid, which she quickly swallowed, making as she did so small sounds of ecstasy that hopefully conveyed suitable appreciation of her master's nectar.
She continued to suck him, and swallow, until the flow of come subsided; he made a curt motion of his head, indicating that her work was, for the moment, complete. She inspected his wet cock to make sure that it was licked clean; then hastened to the head to brush her teeth, gulp a measure of vodka, and remove the salty, sticky taste of Junior's sperm. The vodka distracted her with its warm glow; she took another sip, then began to prepare breakfast.
The day passed unusually, without demands from Junior or Fancha for her to present her various parts for duty. In the middle of the long, sunny afternoon, Junior left on an unspecified errand. However the presence of Fancha, Lois' nude state, and the fact that the boat was moored on an island far from anyone else all ensured that the chances of escape were nil. Instead, Fancha regarded her with appraisal. "Do you know where it was Junior went?"
Lois expressed a lack of knowledge about the doings of her master. "He's out with an old shipmate. Swedish. He's going to bring him back to the boat. Then you and I are going to put on a show for the men. You better get ready; when I'm done with you, you'll have to pleasure them both."Then, laughing gleefully "Maybe me as well. Maybe all at the same time. How do you like that, Miss? Not so high and mighty as before, are we? Guess getting your ass tanned regular changes your attitude some. Think I'll tell Junior you were difficult today; then we'll start the evening with you hooked up and wriggling while you wait for your butt to start burning. I've got an urge to make your white ass jump; before it gets fucked.
Maybe I'll whip inside your thighs some this time; told that hurts a girl more than anything. The men will enjoy seeing a high class white bitch begging and howling, saying she'll take it in her mouth or ass if I stop whipping her...only for a minute. Makes them real hot." Lois blushed deeply; on occasion she had indeed shamefully offered to do anything to stop the relentless strokes that seared her backside.
