The myth of the slave-ship has come through history clouded by the darkness of its own existence, clouded by the fear and terror of those who have heard tell of-or have experienced-its terrors.
Greta was the captain whose ways of cruelty and torture reached out to the innocent girls who could not resist her, whose wills were not strong enough to resist the temptation of torturous sexuality.
What is it that Greta offered her women?
Her flaming red hair, blossoming breasts, rough sexuality, were the personification of all her tortures. With her own hands, so eager and willing, she beat woman after woman into submission, and she thought she had them all under her control.
Until Linda....
Linda was something special.
Linda was Greta's arch-enemy, tortured into boarding the ship and then tortured into "training." Linda was good-really good, as far as Greta was concerned-because she could take anything Greta gave without breaking. Linda, too, was filled with masochistic and sadistic tendencies, and she loved to exploit them.
And yet, on another hand, Linda was far more clever than Greta would have liked to believe.
Linda had in her power the wills of all the other slave-women so that, when they wanted to plan a mutiny against Greta, she could draw them together into a cohesive unit, unite them in a plan of attack.
Would it work?
At first, the women thought not. Greta captured two of the conspirators, Polly and Jenny, and tortured them humiliatingly in front of the whole shipful of women.
And yet the strength of the mutiny grew instead of decreasing, and eventually, Linda was able to find a way out for herself and the other women.
CHAPTER ONE
The day dawned clear and bright with a high sun and shimmering heat. Greta stood at the captain's bridge of the ship and surveyed the ocean. It was clear and blue of the brightest hues and she looked upon it, arms folded across her leather-cased tits. She was the ruler of the sea. She was queen of all she surveyed and it, in this case, the entire sea. And anyone who would dispute her would find themselves screaming for mercy at the very feet of the most powerful woman on the sea.
Below her was a ship filled with slaves, all of them bending over backwards to do her will or else to receive the most terrible beatings imagnable. But then, a well-trained slave will endure everything. Even the most terrible beatings imaginable.
They were sleeping now. Yes, let them get their sleep. They earned it, but then, they also needed it. The day would dawn with new tortures and new ways of doing old things. But they could handle it. They were a crack bunch of slaves.
Greta stood looking over the ocean trying to imagine what she could so to change things. True, she had just what she had wanted, but there was something missing. That was a new slave. She had grown tired of the various slaves she had and knew that while perfection was nice once achieved, it had to be achieved over and over again for it to have any meaning at all. For her to have a crack bunch fo slaves meant nothing if there wasn't anything there to keep improvement is ripe. She needed a bit of sand to throw in her cogs. She needed someone to take her back-breaking and tit-twisting punishment and enjoy it like it could be enjoyed only by those who had never eaten leather before. She needed new new blood on her ship.
She would have to scan the sea in order to find something suitable to grab. A good ship to hijack. A good galleon to consume. There would have to be one on the high seas that could give her what she wanted.
As she thought of it, her hand began to slip down to her leather-encrusted crotch where a cunt of incredible beauty lay. She placed it into the warm, moist darkness and began to play with her tough pussy. Pussy. It was more like an alley cat. Tough, able to take care of itself ... it had to be like that. She was mistress of the ship and she had to be so far above her slaves that they would get stiff necks looking up at her, as she would tell them. She had to be the iron-fisted master and once one part of her weakened, the rest would fall, too. After all, a chain is only as strong as the weakest link.
Her hand fell into her cunt and began clutching hard at the soft but wiry hair that covered it. sandwiched in between it and the leather that covered it. The leather gloves on her hand created a certain type of marvelous friction on her cunt-lips and she could feel a tinge of sexual excitement climb up her body. Leather turned her on. Tremendously. Almost
She clutched at her cunt harder and harder. Pain! Pain was eroticism. Eroticism was pain. There was no separating the two. One was not possible with the other one lacking. You must have both in order to be complete and sex without them was far from the satisfaction it could be. Greta was never able to understand why people felt the way they did about it all.
That was shy she was out at sea now. When she had lived in London and ran her salon, there was a basement full of the finest impliments of torture in the world. There were racks and whips and chains and spikes ... more spikes than the mind could conceive. And there were so many different weights to tie onto firm young tits and so many firm young tits to choose from ... that was always the nicest part of the salon. When you're in a big city, there is always someone that you can get. Single young women who run away from home and the safety of the family to the fun, intrigue and excitement of the big city ... they were a dime a dozen. Just go out on the streets and there they were. Just take your carriage out on the roads and there they were by the dozens at the side of the road attempting to get a ride into the nearest town.
With a system like that, it was hard not to succeed. Just make sure that there is a good enough cover and there is never any problem. Greta ran a whorehouse. As a madame, there was no doubt that her house was of a sexual nature, but there was also the chance to say that the few screams that did filter out to street level were really those of the poor girl who had fallen in with a rather incensed partner. The man just got carried away. That was all. And the patrons never saw the basement of delights. No. That was not the right thing to do. After all, they were purely for the training of the girls and the pleasure of Greta. A man on one square inch of her precious basement would defile it to a point of near disuse, if she would be in a more fanatical state that day. At any rate, there was no reason at all that a man should be there and she wouldn't allow one to even look at the basement door. She hung an expensive tapestry on it. That was all she needed to keep prying eyes away.
A well trained slave is a delight, but there is always a rotten apple in the barrel somewhere and that had been the case with Greta. She knew she should have known better than to leave the one girl alone, but she did and she regretted if ever since. That one girl ... what was her name? Was it Linda? Yes, Linda. That was it. She had always been a strong-willed bitch. Very hard one to break. A lot of fun to the challenge, but too much of a bitch to be worth anything. Picked up one day on an outing to the park. She seemed to be putting on that act of being naive from the beginning. And she was the ruin of an empire.
She had escaped one night in a manner that Greta never did understand. She Knew that Linda would go to the authorities and she would be, as the commoners would say, up shit creek without a paddle. That had to be stopped one way or another and the answer was to get the hell out of town and fast.
By dawn she had rounded up a handful of slaves and all of the equipment she could carry and took off for the docks. A pirate ship was making its way out of the harbor and she was able to grab it and load her women and equipment on board and, in exchange for sex, they would be taken to a port were they would be safe.
The pirates had not reckoned on Greta, however, and in a matter of days there wasn't a man to be found on board. That was something of a triumph for her and she now had her salon back, but in a place where escape wouldn't be possible nor would detection. This was the most perfect set-up a person could ask for and this was what she had.
The only drawback was that there was a definite shortage of new blood. A ship in the area to take in order for it to be effective. After all, there wasn't the great selection of girls that there had been in London and there was something of a problem now in getting that new blood that was so greatly desired.
That's why she was bored. She needed a new slave to break. A brand new slave that could be beaten into a bloody submission and taken into chains and spikes and weights to a point where her spirit would be so trampled she would be the perfect slave, squeezing the flesh until a strong person would scream out in pain. But not Greta. She was beyond that. She could take anything. Except this boredom.
She jammed her finger into the cunt and began to finger it as hard as she could. Her clit hung in the way and she mashed it with the powerful finger until it became more and more stimulated and grew in length and hardness.
She felt a sudden sting of pleasure sweep over her and she could suddenly feel herself begin to melt in the heat of the self-stimulation as well as the hot sun. She was so eager for something new on her ship that she would have done almost anything to get it. Almost anything? Only almost anything? Never! This was Greta and Greta could do anything!
The one finger had become three now and the masturbation grew rougher and rougher. She needed something and she knew just what she needed.
Quickly descending the stairs of her bridge, she entered the slave quarters and yanked one of the sleeping women from the bed. It was Polly.
"Wake up, you smelly cunt, before I kick your tits around the deck like a couple of bowling balls."
Polly opened her eyes slowly and saw the towering form of Greta above her. Instinctively she moved towards the leather boot closest to her and began to lick it.
"Is that the way I've taught you to lick a fucking boot? Is it?"
Polly went into her work with a renewed vigor and Greta looked happier. The firm smile set upon her face and would have struck terror in a lesser person.
"Fine. Fine slave. You're doing good. Very good. Now come with me."
Grabbing Polly by her fine dark hair, she led the back up to the bridge.
"Okay, cunt, get to work on me and do a good job, too, while I scan the high seas for some new playmates for you."
Greta stood looking at the sea again while Polly licked the leather encasement on her cunt. It tasted musky as leather does and with each lick, Polly began to put more and more into it. Greta could feel the force of the tongue in her cunt and moaned a little.
"That's good, slave. Real good. Keep it up and you might be rewarded with the whip."
Polly wasn't sure if she wanted the whip, but it would be hers one way or another. If she did good, she would get the whip as a reward. If not, she would get it as punishment. It was all the same thing, but Greta gave it a different name.
Polly began to throw her tongue inside the leather brief and let it roam about the area around her cunt and her inner thighs. This was the sort of thing that she knew would be the most appreciated by her mistress. And if you have to have it under reward of punishment, it would be best to have it as a reward. After all, you can even convince yourself that it isn't that bad if you take it as a reward.
She moved at the leather-encased twat with a marvelous adeptabilty and Greta knew that she had made a good choice for the morning. "Take that leather thing off me, slave," Greta growled. "With your teeth."
Polly complied. She took the leather overhang in her mouth and began to pull it down slowly but surely. Greta liked it slow and she smiled and let the feeling sweep over her. Polly continued to take it down with her' teeth held firmly on the leather. The soft material slipped down her legs more and more and she smiled to herself that she had a damn good slave in Polly.
When Greta felt that she'd pulled the leather briefs down far enough, she stopped Polly with her voice.
"Okay slave. That's enough. Breakfast time." And Greta shoved her hips forward into Polly's face. "Eat kid, it's good for you."
Polly ripped into Greta's cunt with a force that she knew that she loved so well. Teeth. She loved the feel of teeth on her cunt, and that was the first thing that Polly always used on her. It was the one thing that always made Greth feel her best. "Go slave, go. Eat me, slave, eat my wet cunt. I want your no good tongue working over that hole, eat me, she screamed.
Polly ate her with everything she had, all that mattered in her head was Greta. She was the one who made the decisions. She was lord and master. She was the one who had to be satisified. She was the one, the only one who mattered. There was always Greta and there would always be Greta. She was all that mattered.
Greta felt that the time had come for the reward and she picked up the whip. She waved it in the air for a moment and then drew it slowly across Polly's young, firm, tits. She really wanted to make things super for her young beautiful slave.
Polly felt the leather move across her breasts and knew that what she had been waiting for was about to happen, She had pleased her mistress. She wasn't very fond of the whip, but she also knew that she had been turned on by it in the past and turned on enough to quiver all over with excitement. It had even gotten to the point where she knew just what Greta menat when she said that the only real total satisifaction was through pain. She had explained to Polly that it wasn't only pain inflicted on yourself, but pain inflicted by other people as well. Pain, just pain, any kind of pain at all. It all ran together in her mind like a madness that was possessing everything in sight. And she also knew that the only way to get around anything like that was to give into the pain. Cry, scream, whimper, do anything you want, but give into the pain and then it could be a marvelous experience. She knew that from past experience and knew it well.
-Greta picked up the whip and held it over her head and brought it down on Polly's back. Crack! The sound of the whip could be heard all over the ship. The whip was strong and hard and Polly started for a moment before continuing her work on the captain.
The whip raised into the air again and then landed once more on her skin. A large red welt raised up on her back and Polly screamed with the pain. Polly winced, but continued to gnaw away at the cunt that was before her waiting to be eaten.
"Come on slave, I want that mouth to do it's work. Eat me!" Greta's voice was raised in excitement now. She was loud, and hot and enjoying every moment of what was going on. She had a first class slave at her cunt now and she would allow the slave to continue to serve her. A good master always allowed the slave to continue if she were giving her master pleasure.
Polly's tongue continued to lick and suck on Greta's cunt in an almost mad way now. She worked to a frenzy poing without stopping for a second. Greta's pussy was wet now with her own excitement and the moistness that Polly's tongue had put there, but she was enjoying it, there was no doubt about that. The pain was something else to be consireded but there was no room for anything beside Greta's cunt and the reward that her mistress was giving her.
The harder Polly licked at the cunt the harder the blows from the whip became leaving little red lines all over Polly's back. The wounds stung as the salt air got into them, but Polly let her mind stray from the task that she was in the middle of. There was always something to keep the sting of the whip from being too bitter to taste.
The whip crushed again and again against the flesh of the young woman who knelt before her master, tongue in service for the great mistress of the high seas, Greta.
The beginnings of an orgasm were beginning to be felt and Greta began to moan softly with a more irregularity in her breathing now apparent and the coming of the orgasm would be soon ... very soon. She would be in the middle of a frenzied mass of great sexual pain at almost any moment and she would be most uncontrollable.
There was an increase in the frequency of the whip and Polly knew the end was coming and that there would be a great orgasm at almost any moment. The time was getting closer and closer and she was getting more and more into the activity she was forced to by this Queen Bitch of the Sea.
And then it struck. Greta began to heave mightily and suddenly she unleashed a gallon of cunt juice at least and a thousand or more mad cracks from her whip. She was out of her mind suddenly and she smashed the leather strap against the body of the woman again and again as the massive orgasm raged through her body, tearing her apart without any show of mercy at all. She was mad with power and sex and she whipped the young girl who faithfully ate at her cunt mercilessly.
Polly continued to tear away at the cunt with a mad passion while the whip beat against her raw back. It was but a mass of torn flesh now and there was only the raw, red skin and the dripping blood to receive the continued blows of the whip.
And suddenly, Polly too was seized by the gripping of the orgasm, both her keeper's and the whips and she began to writhe with the suddenly powerful feeling that she, too, was being seized by the orgasmic powers and she, too, was in the middle of a ripping, roaring orgasm that threatened to leave her dead if she would let it. She was coming just as hard and furious as Greta was.
The continued whipping kept her coming long after she might have otherwise, and Greta had since come out of her orgasm and she delighted to see her slave in the torture she was in.
"Come on, slave, come for me. Come more and more for me. That's it, slave! Suffer, suffer for me!"
She continued to crack the whip against the sensitive skin that was left on Polly's back and the girl kept coming madly. This was the sort of spontaneous torture that Greta loved to see. This was just the very thing that she wanted to look upon and enjoy. This was the very thing that she liked. The more of this she could get, the better. It was worth everything.
And then suddenly her eyes moved to the sea for just a moment and off onto the horizon was the very thing she had been looking for. There was a ship.
She gave one last massive crack to Polly and threw the whip to the ground.
"Look, slave, a ship! We've got a ship! Go on down below and get the rest of the slaves together and tell them to be ready immediately. We have a ship to board and prisoners to take. Go! Stop coming and go!"
Polly was on her feet in no time, racing below to warn the others that there was work to do. Her back no longer seemed to bother her and she was aware of that and it puzzled her, but not enough to keep her from the appointed round.
On the horizon, another ship was sighted. The captain, a stout, beared man of middle years, looked out at the seas with his periscope to see what there might be that was approaching his ship with a great speed. The sight of the flag flying from the mast was not that familiar to him, but the black flag with the skull and screaming woman meant nothing too good.
"I believe we are being approached by pirates," he told his crew. "Be prepared to fight them off."
The ship was approaching fast now and the captain was able to catch sight of their leader and it was a sight that curled his blood. A fierce woman with red hair and a very skimpy leather outfit was commanding a horde of naked slaves, all of them women. He had no idea what to make of what he saw, and his first thought was to get all women on board down below.
"What's the meaning of my being shoved by one of your crew?" demanded one blonde woman after the crew had been told to carry out the order.
"We're being approached by a pirate ship."
"And I'm not fit to stand up to pirates?"
"My good woman, this is a strange ship. Who knows what they'll want. They'll no doubt want women and you are a woman."
"And what if they do want women? Do you think that I can't look after myself? I am the governness of the daughter to the Lord of Bexly, his most majestic Laurel of Schaffer and I can stand up to his lecherous attacks most well. He is notorious for such actions, I may remind you, should you not already know, and I shall be able to take on any pirate that had thought of crossing my path with his rapier drawn."
"My good woman...."
"And before that I had served as housekeeper for the also feared Lord Mayne who had the habit of wandering about the streets of London and beating the nances with his shoes. These encounters always made him ready for sex and he would try and ravish me upon his arrival at the homestead. Yet, I did repulse him, too. So do not think that I can be shoved aside like an ordinary woman, good sir."
The captain would not argue. This blonde with the perfect figure was not about to hear another word from him. Did she want to stay on board? Then let her stay on board. The hatch below was safe. Let this one go where she wanted. And if the pirates did take her, that would be their problem.
The ship was close enough for boarding now and the captain readied himself to meet the inhabitants of . this strange vessel!' He wasn't sure what he would do, but he would try and do what he could.
The ship drew alongside and a voice called from a red-haired siren on the deck.
"Give us your women or we will fire, mate."
The captain wasn't sure what he had heard, and Greta repeated it once, but then, thinking better of it, ordered that the ship be boarded. In a matter of minutes, the leather-clad mistress stood before the captain demanding the women of the ship.
"Or else, you see this whip? Would you like to taste it? It has a marvelous flavor to it and the salt air will enhance it."
The captain looked and found himself surrounded by a mass of women all carrying an impliment of torture of one sort of another. There wasn't much else he could do.
"What on earth is going on here?" It was that blonde lady again. She came from the deck below and she was as angry and bitching as the captain could ever remember her. "I distinctly told you I didn't want to be shoved down there by those animals that work for you and they still persisted in taking me below. I demand to know what the meaning of all this is!"
"The meaning is," Greta said quietly, "that you are coming with us ... Linda."
The woman turned around and found herself face to face with Greta.
"Why, Greta! So this is what you've taken to. I had wondered. I thought that you might have been swallowed up by the earth to be unleashed upon another generation years hence from now like they do in novels. Captain, this is Greta. I used to work for her, too. In fact, I used to do a lot of work for her and got paid in a very peculiar manner, too. Oh, and Polly. I'd have known that back anywhere. I see you're in fine health."
Greta had no idea what Linda felt she had to gain by the game she played, but she knew that she would be the only prisoner they would have to take from this ship. That and some food for supplies. And she didn't think she would have any problem getting either.
"Captain, if this bitch has complained as much to you as she has to me, I know you'll want to get rid of her. Give us food, too, or we'll take the rest of the women and leave you the blonde-haired bitch." Then she turned to the girls. "I believe I'll take this one, girls. She seems to be my type. The shrew does need to be tamed. And, captain, if you don't hurry, we might be agreed to leave you the bitch anyway."
Within half an hour, the two ships had parted with the captain feeling that he had indeed come off with the better part of the bargain. Greta wouldn't hurt him too much. He was a man and men just weren't worth the trouble. If he had put up a fight, he would have been crushed. But if not, why bother? Men were like flies. They were fine if they bothered someone else. Once they began to land on you, then they were to be squashed. That was the only time they would even have to be acknowledged.
The ship moved full speed out to sea and the women all gathered around the new catch.
"You may remember some of the girls, Linda. It hasn't been all that long, has it? Maybe two years? Did you really think that you would ever successfully get away from me? No one ever successfully gets away from me, you know. No one. And this is proof to anyone who thinks that it can be done. If anyone is really that foolish, that is!"
Linda only looked about the sea of half-scowling faces that surrounded it. She knew what to expect, but she also knew what to do about it.
"Well, I must say that you have at least moved up in the world. The world's first traveling house of ill-repute, right, Greta?"
"You know the only reason that I had the house was for a front. I don't need it any longer. I have this and it is a marvelous thing. No one will get me here. No one at all. Oh, one does miss the growing amounts of girls who flee to London, but there is an occasional ship and even one of them has to have you on it, Linda, dear."
Greta stepped back to look at her arch rival. She had been an incredible pain the first time. This time, however, Greta knew just what to do with her. Mistakes of the first round were not about to repeat themselves at all. Not by a long shot. This was to be the real thing this time and not a failure like the last. Linda could and would be tamed.
"You know, Linda, that dress of yours is positively beautiful. I have to give you a gift to make you feel that you're wanted and I can give you a chain to go with your dress. I think it would look beautiful right about here."
She pressed her hands against the firm and round tits on the woman. "Yes, don't you think the chain would look good right about here? Yes, I think so. Girls, would one of you like to go to my jewelry box and get out my favorite chain so that I may present it as a welcome aboard gift to our new visitor? I believe it would be in bad taste not to do so."
One of the girls left and Greta smiled at Linda. "I had to put you down as the only real failure that I've ever had, you know. I believe that you can be conquered, my dear, and I believe that the task will not be as hard as anyone might believe. Even you. I can break you, my dear. I wasn't ready for a special case like you when I had you, but I am ready now and I know just what to do to you, my dear. I will tell you that I am welcoming you on board for a most exquisite voyage and how soon you get off and in what condition will be determined by the way that you respond to my training and how long it will last with you. But I do have a lot of faith in you, my dear. You can do it. I've been aware of your abilities for a long time and I'm going to enjoy having you with me for a long time to come. You will be marvelous. I know. I've known you for a while and I've studied your potential. You will be a good slave."
The girl she had dispatched for the chain and ball arrived with the jewelry and handed it to Greta along with pliers for her to apply it to the waiting body of Linda.
"Uh, you will have to remove the dress, dear. It goes on much better that way."
Linda just stood there and looked at her with a smirk on her face. "Sort of a love bracelet, huh?"
Greta laughed at that. "You guessed it. And there is no one in the world that I would love to see more in these than you. Okay, girls, go to her!"
"The three girls closest to me, right, Greta?"
"Oh, you do have a memory, don't you? You can remember all the things that used to happen back in London. And you can remember when you didn't do them."
"And you can remember that you never did break me, no matter what happened. And you know why that is?"
"Because you are a first-class bitch, dear.
Just ask the captain of the ship I took you off."
By now the girls around her had taken the dress from the shoulders of the blonde governness and left her standing in her underwear. Her two very nicely formed and overripe tits protruded out over the edge of the corset she wore."
"My, a corset. I had no idea that you were getting into the upper class."
"All the best people are wearing one these days," Linda said as she looked over the almost nude body of the pirate lady. "I see your mode of dress hasn't changed at all. Still the leather queen of the high seas, I guess. And I suppose your social standing hasn't been altered either."
Greta paused with the chain in her hands for a moment. "Haven't changed, have you? Still the u in cunt."
And with the fine young woman held prisoner by Polly, Greta moved in towards the two tits in order to chain them. Linda hadn't moved at all.
"Not struggling, my dear?"
"There are some things in the world that do stick with one."
Greta laughed again in a terrifying laugh that would have shriveled a lesser woman than the one she was about to enslave for the second time in her life. She would love every minute of the coming torture. And she was sure that Linda would feel home again.
The iron clasps on the ends of the chains were held up to the tits and placed against them. The iron was cold and Linda shivered slightly from them, but never changed her smirking expression. Not her. She was above this all. And Greta knew that. Greta also knew that she would have to be much tougher on her if she would be able to break this spirit. And she could do it if she worked hard enough at it.
She took the pliers and held it up to crush the first clasp to the waiting tits. She paused a moment and wondered of something and then, shaking her head and smiling, she took the soft, pliable nipple and crushed it in the pliers with fair bit of force. Linda kept silent, but it was clear that she was feeling the pain quite well. Still, she refused to cry out at all. Greta smiled again and pressed a little harder on the handles. Linda was visibly shaken and still she tried to keep silent. Greta increased again and this time tears began to streak from the eyes of the blonde captive.
"My, my, what an endurance level. You ought to really enjoy this, then."
She released the pliers and placed the clasp at the reddened nipple and crushed it to the soft, pliable skin. When she was sure it would hold, she released the mass of soft flesh and let it be pulled down by the weight of the ball that she was supported by the chain. The tit pulled straight downward and stretched while Linda gasped with the pain that shot through her body as the bell stretched her tit and almost pulled off her nipple. Linda wished it would, for that would lessen the pain somewhat.
Greta knew that what she wanted was being accomplished and that she was putting Linda in great pain. But Linda wasn't even close to taming yet. She knew what to expect and she readied herself to attach the second nipple.
She didn't crush this one this time. Instead, she opted to tease her, knowing that anticipation of the act is always worse than the actual occurrence. It was definitely worth the fun that it was. Definitely. Linda was turning a bright red now from the pain she felt.
"Bring back any old memories of the fun we had together, Linda?"
Linda was still silent and Greta attached the other chain to the other tit. Then she released them and looked at the two stretched tits hanging, pulled to a painful tightness by the weight in the center of the chain. It was beautiful and she felt it exciting her.
"Slaves, gather 'round and look at how well our new person takes to it. Almost like she was born into it, isn't it?"
The various slaves on the ship gathered around to look at Linda in her state of pain. Some of them touched her and Greta smiled and told them to go right ahead and do whatever they wanted to her.
They began to remove her clothes. It had been so long since they had seen clothes of any sort and now they were very interested. It wasn't long before she stood as nude as many of them, but her body wasn't the mass of blemishes that the others were. Still, give her time. She would match them.
One by one the slaves began inspecting the nude body of the governness and placing their hands all about the taut flesh of the tits that was pulled so tight that Linda felt as if she were being run through a laundry wringer. It was a very tight and painful feeling and the tears streamed down her cheeks as she felt the pain pulsate through her body. It was strange, but there was a certain feeling of eroticism about it all. Linda might have thought it a bit strange, but not really. It was quite natural, she thought. Perhaps she did share more of the thoughts of the pirate than she would have suspected, but maybe there was a point to it all. Sex was pain and pain was sex, and the two really were the same thing. She really seemed to like what was being done to her. She was unable to get over the pain and now it began to delight her. She liked that and the way that the slaves went about her body with the fierceness that they did. There must really be a shortage of new blood on the high seas. There was a certain amount of protection from the law, but there was always the problem that the people you got were too few and far between and that was indeed a problem. There was never anything worse than having too little people to train. Linda knew that well.
There was now a glint on the face of the captain as she looked at Linda chained. She was quite pleased at the aura of delight that covered her face, despite the tears and the wincing.
"I believe you really enjoy this, my dear. I'm glad we were able to give you the type of greeting you were hoping for."
Linda could hardly talk as the weight pulled her tits farther and farther down. Greta smiled as she looked at her and then moved closer in order to do something.
"I thought you might like this."
She picked up the ball and held it above the pair of tits like a ball poised to drop. And then she dropped it. The ball fell towards the floor until the tits refused to stretch any longer and the ball bounced a little before it stopped and Linda opened her mouth wide with the pain that gripped her. Greta did it again and the soft tit flesh again stretched to its breaking point and Linda gasped for air at the pain she felt. She had never known such pain since she had fled from Greta two years earlier, but she had also not known such sexual pleasure since then, either. She wanted someone to stick something up her cunt fast. Anything. It didn't matter. Anything that would fit and even if it didn't fit, it would do. There had to be something, though. And that was a definite thing. , Greta seemed to sense it. With a certain amount of feeling for the olden days, she smiled at Linda and stuck the handle of her whip up the cunt of Linda. It was exactly what the governness wanted and the expression on her face was exquisite. It mixed the pain and the pleasure of the experience that she was going through and she panted with joy at the whip handle as it was moved up and down inside her cunt. Her gasps were now gasps of joy and she felt that she had never been through anything so beautiful and so erotic in her life. This was it. If nothing ever happened again, this would be it. How much of an idiot she had been to fear the pain. Sure it hurt, but it wasn't so bad when it actually happened. It was the anticipation of the event that did it more than the actual event.
Now the breathing became more and more orgasmic and Greta, having had the experience that one needed to tell of these things, knew that there was about to be an orgasm. She plied the body with the whip handle just long enough for there to be a really heavy reaction and then she stopped at the very last minute possible to stop before causing the orgasm.
"Bitch! You haven't changed at all!" Linda gasped for air as she felt the orgasm fade away.
"Not at all, my dear. I have to save you for other things. Can't let you go completely on this one particular thing. You'll thank me for it, too. I can tell."
The pliers were brought over again and Greta began to remove the ball and chain from her tits.
"Your breasts will sag soon enough, dear. I have other things in mind for you."
Linda wondered what it would be this time. Might it be the rack? How about a table of spikes? A whip? What should she be thinking of next?
The tits sprang upwards as they were released and Linda's hands went to them to massage them.
"Still masturbating, Linda?"
Linda just gave Greta a dirty look as she could manage in her condition. The massaging of the tits felt good and she would keep it up no matter what Great had to say. After all, the ball was heavy and her tits were sore and she knew that she would feel it much later.
But now her mind was running towards other things and they included the problem of what was going to happen to her now that there was something new about to happen. What diabolical deed would it be this time? It was hard to say, but there would be something that would make her hurt like hell, but also, at the same time, sufficiently horny and this time she might be allowed to come. What a drag it would be if Greta did that again to her, what a real drag!
But the major problem was that would be the new torture that was devised for her. That was the problem indeed. Her mind reeled with the machines of the past and the way they had with the human body, turning it into forms and shapes and lengths that were formerly declared impossible. A human body could do anything, and Greta was proof that it could. Anything was possible as long as there were the right kinds of machines to back it up. Greta had them, too.
She was ready for just about anything now, and she knew that it would indeed happen, too. It was open season on her now and it would be a miracle if she would be able to get through it all, but then, she knew she would survive it. She always did. And look at her now. She wasn't that much worse for it. She was still a very attractive woman and didn't look at all the thirty-five years she was. Indeed, she spoke as if she were still twenty-five. And her hair was golden blonde and her figure still caused men to go wild when they saw passing by. She was indeed a wonderful specimen of womanhood. There was no doubt about that. And the bruises and cuts and the like do heal eventually. Even when they are believed to be disfigurements, there is always a healing over. And if the skin doesn't heal quite right, there are many cosmetics that can hide it. There wasn't a scar visible on her body from the days that she spent with Greta in London. She did come out of it in very good shape and there was no reason to believe that this time would be no different.
The only real difference that would be there would be the fact that this time she would do what she never quite succeeded in and that would be the breaking of Greta. Get the authorities after her? It might be a bit too hard from the ship, but it wouldn't be hard to get rid of Greta. It just had to be done in the right fashion and one that would be just the way Greta would like it. That was all that she had to do. She had visions of what it would be like and she waited eagerly for the day when she would be able to dispose of Greta once and for all.
But why did she feel that she had to do that? Was it because of the pain? Not really. Linda enjoyed it as much as Greta. There had to be something else and Linda herself wasn't sure of what it was. Perhaps it was the need for power. Perhaps it was the need to feel that there had been something accomplished and that she had taken over it all totally. Perhaps it all came from the desire to control just as much as Greta did. Linda often thought she would make a pretty good Greta herself. She would do quite nicely standing up there on the captain's bridge snapping her whip over a multitude of slaves that were below waiting for her every command. But the only drawback was her own dislike of inflicting pain. She was something on the order of a masochist and nothing near the sadist one would have to be in order to unseat and dethrone Greta. And that would have to be a real sadist.
The only person Linda could see inflicting pain on and enjoying it would be Great, even in the knowledge that Greta hated pain on herself. But then, wasn't that the way it was with most sadists? Pain is great, but on the other person. A bit of their own medicine is nothing what they wanted at all. It had to be great pain, but always on some other person. And if the person didn't mind it, why bother not to?
But the idea was that the reason she was such a hard slave to break, whether or not Linda realized it, was the mixture she was of masochist and strong will. She could endure just about everything and even enjoy it at times. It was a rare combination and a welcome one, too. After all, if one must be that way, it was the best way to be.
Greta lad her to a grating on deck. It had been removed from the floor of the deck and placed against a wall in order to make better use of it than it was being made o on the floor. There was so much you could do with a grating if you just had the right touch and a flair of the imaginative. That was just what Greta had. She was right on the ball when it came to torture.
"How do you like this one, Linda? I made it just for you in hopes that you would come back to us."
"Greta, you are too kind. Too kind. And so practical. If I never come back, you could use it on someone else."
"And I have, too, and it's marvelous. I'd love for you to try it. Do try it."
Before Linda could make up her mind to say that she would be delighted to try it, she had been seized by the slaves and bound with a heavy rope to it. Her wrists and ankles were all bound to a separate corner so as to position her spread-eagle against the grating. Greta stood back and looked at the handiwork.
"Very good, girls. Very good work. You'll all be rewarded for this, but I do think that for this beauty, there is something missing."
She moved over to Linda and ran her hand over the soft body of the girl. Linda's body began to quiver all over and when Greta took a nipple in hand and began to twist, she began to thrust her hips forward with the passionate feelings she felt.
"That's it! I know just what she needs."
Greta grabbed the cunt as it thrust forward and held it away from the grating, caressing it with her leather gloves, feeling the soft cunt hairs that bristled with the excitement that she gave them. She knew well that Linda was loving everything that she did and that there would be no end to the way these things were going for a long time to come. It would be great fun and very erotic.
Greta signalled for the rope to be brought over again and with it in hand, she began to truss up the cunt and tie it to the grating.
"I know you will want to move around a bit, my dear, but this will keep you in place better. You won't tire out as easily."
"I know, Greta. You do hate the sight of tired blood, don't you?"
"How well you remember," Greta smiled.
She stood back and looked at her handiwork. Linda was now wearing a length of rope that covered her cunt and would act as a sort of chastity belt.
"This is to keep people out of your cunt. I have other ideas for it."
The pirate lady stood looking at the trussed up body o f her slave and smiled. It was good. It was very good, indeed. There was something about it that she liked.
"My dear, you are quite pale, did you know?"
"I knew you'd notice eventually," Linda replied.
"Well, I'd be a rotten hostess if I didn't do anything about it, you know. I do believe I'll leave you for a bit to get a bit more color before I come back and flog you to within an inch of your sex. I want you to get a little bit more color. You can appreciate the feel of the whip a bit more if I do that to you. You know, dear?"
Linda suddenly stopped smiling. "You know what that will feel like? Whipping me will be enough, you know. You don't have to do it on top of a sunburn, Greta."
"I wouldn't consider doing it for anyone else, you know. I mean, I'd have no respect for their physical appearance. I'd flog them pale. But you I can feel something for...."
"And it's up your ass."
"Watch that, Linda. I might let you cook a little longer. And it does get very bright here, especially since it is approaching noon and the sun is rather bright, you know. I'd watch it. And, like I said, I'm doing you a favor. I want you flogged with a marvelous bit of color to your skin. It should enhance the streaks that will be forming on you."
Greta laughed again. There was very little worse than that laugh. It was wicked. It was the most evil sounding laugh that could be found. Greta had it all, too. She had one of those laughs that could instill a terror that would never be satiated by calm. Greta knew it, too, and she made no effort not to hide it either. It was a really great tool of hers.
She laughed again and instructed her slaves that there were other chores to be done and they would be able to come back and take care of Linda later. But there were more important things to be done before the treat of watching Linda cook. It was what would be done to the woman later on that would be the real fun. That was what they all knew, too, so when Greta told the slaves to get to work, they went eagerly.
Linda could only stay tied to the grating and wait for what would happen next. She already knew it would be the supreme test of her endurance.
CHAPTER TWO
Linda was now out in the sun and it beat upon her with the merciless manner that a sun can in the middle of the ocean. It wouldn't give her a moment's protection and she wondered what would be worse ... the inevitable beating or the waiting for the time to come and having to spend it out in a hot sun.
The sun was hot and bright and shining directly in her eyes. She couldn't look at anything and all she could do was keep her eyes closed, yet she was afraid to close them for a moment and let someone sneak up on her and smash her with a stick or metal rod or really just about anything that one could do that sort of thing with. It was a definite problem and she would alternately squint and close her eyes as the right feeling hit her. She wouldn't let herself be left open for any sort of attack. She couldn't. It wouldn't be the way she wanted things to be. Pain was fine, but the surprise element can, at times, take away from things. That was the only real drawback of the whole thing.
She knew it wouldn't be long before Greta would return. She was probably rewarding her slaves at that very moment by allowing them to crawl all over her and lick her tits and cunt. She loved that sort of thing. They could do just about anything in the world to her because she was in charge of them and they were indeed her slaves. She had them in the broadest sense of the word, too. She had a ship of slaves and there was no denying that.
Linda began to think back on the time she spent with Greta in the basement of the house in London. She had just come into London from the North Country and she was as green as the grass. She had n idea what the finely-dressed lady in the fine carriage wanted, except to give her a home for the night and longer, if she wanted to stay. Women in the North Country were a lot like that and it was the feeling that the city wasn't quite as mean as she had been led to believe in her thirty years in the North Country.
She had just lost her husband and she was tired of living the life of a farm widow. She knew that she had to strike out on her own and, too naive for even herself to believe, she set out for London by horsecart. She firmly believed that she would be able to get there with no trouble. Perhaps her naive past was a direct result of her strong will ... too strong a will, that is. It would get her into trouble, she always suspected. And she was always right.
Had it been a man who had offered her the ride after she had been robbed of her cart and horse one night after being set upon by robbers who raped and robbed her, she wouldn't have even considered taking him up on it. Indeed, countless men had offered her rides to London and she turned them down each time knowing what would happen. But she had no conception of what would happen when she took the ride from Greta. All she knew was that it meant a meal and a place to sleep after five days of wondering on the road.
Great had a fine house in a quiet area of the city and she was fascinated with the place as she had never seen anything like it. And the inside was even nicer. There were expensive tapestries hanging all about the place and a lot of women, some younger and others older. Greta explained it as a sort of hotel for women, but it didn't take long for Linda to figure out that she was now in a brothel and that she was about to become a whore. Still, the thought wasn't unpleasant to her because it was something after the dullness of the North Country life. She would appreciate the change tremendously.
Three nights after she had come to Greta, she was an expert on the subject of being a first-class hooker. She was bright and learned rather quickly. She knew most of the ins and outs of the business in no time.
That was when it became time for Greta to introduce her to the joys of the basement and what it held for those who were allowed down there. She was told never to bring a man down to the basement as they wouldn't really appreciate what was down there. Oh, there were those who would, but Greta wouldn't appreciate the increase in money she would have to pay in order to keep the house going. And it would be a good one because houses like the one she had in her basement were not considered to be all that good to have around. Sex was healthy as long as it was paid off, but torture was not the most acceptable thing in the world. A problem? Only if you considered it to be one.
From the moment she was brought to the basement of horrors or the House of Pain, as they called it, Linda was surprised at how nicely she had taken to it. She rather enjoyed the various types of torture and she also liked the way that Greta tried to smash the spirit of her girls and got increasingly angered when she couldn't figure out Linda at all. After all, torture is for submission and Linda never seemed that submissive. Greta would get thoroughly enraged when Linda would deliberately not do something to get whipped or beaten or even the rack. That was the strange thing about it all. Greta couldn't imagine a person actually liking the torture she gave to Linda and she thought that Linda was being obstinate ... which she was, anyway. Linda could make it into a game like no other woman there could and it was that very fact that made Greta the angriest. When there is someone that is playing a game against the master, the master will tend not to look upon it that kindly and Greta was not to be an exception. Greta vowed that she would beat Linda into submission if it took the rest of her life and, from the way it began to look, it might just well take that long.
Linda seemed to love every minute of it all and the more she went against Greta, the worse she tried to make it for Linda. New tortures were devised for her that would really break her spirit. The chain and ball on the tits were one. But again, nothing worked at all. There had to be a way and she would find it.
Linda had ideas of escaping, however, for she tired of the game and wanted to get out and do other things. There were millions of other things for a person to do besides get involved with a torture freak and she would do the other things.
When Greta wasn't looking, then, she was able to plan her escape. It wouldn't be all that hard, really, because there were a lot of loopholes there if one only had the mind to look for them and, as there had never been an escape from this type of devil's prison, there was a safe belief in thinking that she had never had anyone there who was alert enough to find them. It would be a very safe one at that.
One night she slipped out through a door that was supposed to be locked, but wasn't. She went straight to the police and told them of the basement and then took off for any place where Greta wouldn't be able to find her. She would eventually be out away, anyway, so there would be no real sweat on that. In fact, she had lived the intervening years in the full belief that Greta was either behind bars or dead.
Greta, however, was far from either and she strode back onto the deck to prove her presence if one would even bother to doubt.
"Miss me?"
"Like the plague."
"Good. I brought a little gift for you." She held up the whip. "And if you're ready for it, I can give it to you."
She went over and looked at Linda's skin. It was quite red and just a light touch made Linda wince in pain.
"Oh, you're quite ready. I want to get you before you blister because it is no fun at all to have one who blisters. It gets messy and I am not a person who is turned on by a real mess ... but I could make an exception in your case."
"You are really the perfect hostess, Greta. Really."
"I'm so glad you noticed. I mean, the way I have to go out of my way for you is quite tiring."
"And always so complimentary, too."
"I was hoping you'd noticed. Now, how about that gift? I do think you are in the right mood to receive it."
By now the slaves had gathered around to see what would follow and they would have a wonderful time watching what would fall this new slave that they, for the most part, had never seen before. The only one who was a holdover from the old days was Polly. She was all that seemed to have survived the years. She had no idea what happened to the others. They were probably all dead by now. Torture can do that to a person sometimes.
"Now then, have I got everyone here? That's fine. I'm glad you are all here to see what I can do to a person with a whip when they run away. Keep in mind that, while this is my only run-away, I have now a perfect record in retrieving them and if you escape, you will be caught, too. And you might get this, but you might also get worse. It all depends on the mood I'm in. After all, Linda and I are old friends. Aren't we, dear?"
Linda smiled. "Maybe not as old as you, dear."
"You always have to get in your little dig, don't you?" Greta now raised the whip to strike.
The sound of the leather slashed through the air and ended in a crashing crescendo against the sensitive skin of Linda. The pain that reeled in her mind was not to be believed. She wanted to pass out right then and there from the pain that she felt. She wanted to die on the grating like a kind of martyr. But still, there was that tinge of excitement in it all that she couldn't explain at all.
Again the whip sang through the air and hit the skin again, leaving a dripping streak of deep red blood on her right tit. The blood trickled down the mass of flesh and she felt suddenly as if ther was a hot fluid being poured on her. The blood seemed to boil as the red liquid ran down the hot flesh. The burning of the sun was enough to make a lesser person pass out alone. But Linda seemed to endure more than the normal person would. Perhaps that's why Greta smiled as she bore down on her again with the whip and stung it across the flat stomach of the woman on the grate.
Linda began to move about the grating, but she was tied in too tightly to make much of an impression. She could feel the ropes move against her snatch and burn rather than alleviate the feelings of sexual desire she began to get from the beating. If anything, it added to the feelings and she wanted something up her cunt more than ever now. She wanted to be raped by something. It could be human, it could be wooden or leather ... anything. She had to have something up her soft, moist cunt to make her feel complete. Just leave it there for a moment. She would come in three seconds if she was given the chance and the chance was all she asked. This was the real torture and not the whipping on the burned flesh. This was it. This was perfect cruelty.
She could feel the stings of the whip less and less and the whip smashed against her body. Still, the rest of her seemed independent from the rest of the whipping and tears began to well up in her eyes and trickle down her reddened face as the blows continued. She was covered with streaks of red and drying blood that began to grow dark and hard from the sun baking down on it. Her body could hardly stand the stings that were being thrown against it, but the desire to do something sexually and the inability to do so was even worse. She had to find something to do to get over the torture, but there was nothing that she could do.
The whip raced against her legs, coating them with the streaks of the laughing whip. Her cunt was still the untouched part of her body ... there were those ropes there. And that made it even worse. If she could be kissed in the cunt once by the leather, she would come in gallons. But here it was but a rope burn and that was far from the feeling that she wanted to feel.
Crack! The whip sang out again loud and clear and Linda felt it draw across her tits and leave another red streak. The sunburn made no difference at all any longer. It was all the same mass of pain now. She could have been left pale as a ghost. There was a numbness over her now that was not to be believed.
Smash! There was another crack of the whip and she found herself swimming in a mass of pain. Stars formed before her eyes and she lost, for the moment, all sense of where she was.
And then, suddenly, the blows stopped. The laughter of Greta filled the air and made the wounds sting. Greta laughed again and again and louder and louder and Linda wanted to sink from all that was there.
"Look at you, Linda. You're a bloody mess!" And she laughed even louder at her little joke. "We've got to clean you off. Girls?"
And before Linda could realize what was happening, a line of girls danced up to her with buckets and poured cooling, stinging, burning sea water on the raw body of the blonde. Linda could, once again, feel pain. This was, however, not an ordinary pain, for this was a long, lingering pain that stayed with her and stung and stung until she thought her head would fall off in preparation to the rest of her hitting the deck, piece by piece. She wanted to die.
"Do you want to die yet? Or have I got a longer way to go than I originally hoped? I'll get you yet, my pretty. I'll get you yet!"
Greta laughed loudly then and with a wave of her hand, signalled the girls to follow her and they left Linda to dry in the sun.
Greta did give Linda a bit of time to heal her wounds, but it was not in the most comfortable of positions.
"I don't want you to feel like you're not doing anything, Linda, so I will leave you something to do," she said to her that one day when she first put her in irons. "It's almost like weren't they? Well, we're going to try one here and the whole idea is for you to be put in these chains and for you to figure out a way to get out of them. Isn't that going to be fun?"
Linda smirked again. "Still playing the same old party games. Really, Greta, I would have thought you to be more imaginative than that."
"You would? Well, perhaps I can come up with something. But this will have to do for the moment. I mean, there are going to be many more moments that we will be able to share together and I do want to make them as much of a challenge for you as I can. If I remember correctly, there was always the joy of the challenge that you liked so well."
Again, there was a laugh and before she knew it, Linda was placed in irons. They were rather conventional in their appearance. Linda was spread-eagle against the cold brick wall. It would make it easier for activity, should any be desired. Her skin had to heal, though. That was the major point of it all.
It wasn't long ... perhaps a day or two, before Greta returned with a leather harness of sorts.
"I came up with this one and I know it should keep you occupied for a while. It is quite a lot of fun, actually. Let me show you how it works."
She unchained the woman and placed her in the leather harness. It had straps that pressed into her tits and forced them out farther than they might have been otherwise and, for the other feature, had two straps that ran from the crotch up to her arms. The arms were tied behind the back and that seemed to be it. There was no piece across the front of the crotch at all.
"There isn't much to this one at all, Greta. Are you slipping in your old age?"
Greta only smiled. "On the contrary, you must be slipping if you believe that I am after what you know of me." She went over to a box she had carried and removed a spiked ball. She brought it over to the woman and showed it to her.
"Like it? I picked it up for a song from some pirates. I rather like it. I keep it around for special occasions and you, my pretty, are as special an occasion as I can see taking it out for. I do hope you'll like it."
Greta deposited the ball on the floor for a moment and chained Linda back up to the wall and then picked up the ball and brandished it for a moment. Then, with her sly smile, she went to work.
She fastened the ball on both sides of the leather strip that ended at her cunt and let the ball droop slightly. This would place it at her cunt lips. Linda's shoulders were also at an unnatural droop, so she would try and straighten them up, but the ball would prevent her from doing so too much. If she moved, it would go directly to her cunt and spikes would penetrate, but in all the wrong places. She would have enjoyed it more if one could go into her cunt because she could fuck it. That, however, was not the case at all. She had the bad fortune to be in a bad position with a bad result should she try and straighten out.
Greta loved this, however, and could find nothing wrong with it at all.
"Perfect!" She was feeling at the height of her powers. "Sheer perfection, I must say. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Oh, absolutely marvelous, darling. I must say that you do know how to keep a person occupied when they have nothing to do but hang around. You ought to be a social director."
Greta smiled. "I am, my dear. I am." She pinched a nipple and, as expected, Linda writhed, sending the spiked ball into the cunt hard and fast.
"Greta," she gasped, "you should be the perfect bitch."
Pause. "Try, master, and you've got it."
With that, the woman laughed again and walked away from her prisoner. She would keep for a while. Tend to other things now.
There were slaves on the ship that were waiting for Greta to tell them what to do. There were things to be done that had to be accomplished and there were other slaves to break besides Linda. True, Linda was a good one to have for the work, there were others. There were always others.
Linda tried to find a good position to keep in, but every time she moved, the spiked ball jabbed into her more and more. She thought she now had holes in her where there would be regular grooves for the spikes to go. She had to find something comfortable because there wasn't much comfort in the world now.
The next thing she knew, there were a multitude of slaves there to greet her. She hadn't seem them come in and she realized that they had been there longer than she had thought. Could it be that they had been there for some time? And if they had, where had she been?
"Well, you're awake, my pretty. Nice to have you with us again. I wondered when you would come back to us the way you were before. You were out like a light. I do hope you feel better.
"What ... what do you want?"
"I just wanted my girls to see you so they could take notes on you and the way that you looked. I mean, they might find themselves there, too, so I would suggest that they look at you and learn what can happen to them if they aren't as careful as they might be and try and go against my will. And I hope you learn too, girls."
But there was something else on her mind, it seemed, and she had other things that she wanted to do.
"I want to have a bit of a talk with you, my pretty. So if you will be so kind as to follow me to my office ... no, now that I think it over, perhaps it would be better if you were led. That might help to show you the correct spirit that I wish you to show around me. Girls!"
Two of the slaves came forward bearing a collar and chain. They gave it to Greta who showed it to Linda.
"You see this, my pretty? Well, I'm going to use it on you to keep you in step with me. I hope that it will do the work it is supposed to and that you will feel properly submissive with it around your neck, my pretty."
She took the heavy metal collar and placed it around her neck, fastening it with the pliers. Then she gave Linda's nipple a little twist again and, as planned, Linda writhed once more, sending the spikes into her soft cunt again, re-opening old wounds.
Linda had a chance to look at her body again and saw that she had healed a good deal and that she was no longer the mass of slashes she had been. How long have I been out? It had to be a long time, she thought. It just had to.
The leash around her neck, Greta jerked on the chain and pulled Linda off with her. "Come slave, follow me. Let's go, girl. Come on." She finished that off with a laugh. That laugh. It would finish anyone off.
Linda felt it tingle inside her body again. She knew that whatever was on Greta's mind, it would be no good at all. Nothing that she ever came up with was good. Nothing. All that Greta knew was pain and more pain. Greta was going to show some new type of torture to her and see if that would break her spirit.
She had no idea how long she had been on the ship, but she had taken more punishment in her waking hours than she had taken in a longer time when she was with Greta in London. The bitch has it in for me, she thought. But still she had other things that she had to do or that she wanted to do. There were so many things in the world that had to be accomplished and one of them included the disposal of Greta. Linda gave it a bit of thought and tried to think of what she would be able to do to get her goal accomplished. But was all worth whatever she was able to give it?
Linda thought about things. She had been whipped repeatedly, her tits had been stretched almost completely out of shape and she had been burned and flogged and covered with salt water. She had been stretched out in irons and now she was in a leather harness which had caused her to pass out earlier and was being led like an animal to some brand new type of torture. Where would it all end? Would it all end? Would anything ever end? All she knew was that she had to get off the slave ship and to do it as fast as she could. There was much in favor of leaving to keep her on board.
That was the first and foremost thing in her mind as she found herself being taken into the quarters of the leather queen of the high seas. She was led to a stark desk which seemed to be about the only piece of furniture in the room at all.
There wasn't too much else there. A globe and a chair, which was behind the desk for Greta to seat herself upon. There was also a candle to give light when needed. Or was it?
"I want to talk to you, Linda," she said in a softer tone than Linda had ever heard from her before. It seemed like she might be cracking, and all on her own. Linda would wait and see what words would follow.
"I want to talk to you, Linda. I want to have a good, serious talk with you." She sat behind the desk, but she still held the chain in her hand. Linda had to lean over to keep the ball from her cunt.
"Linda, we have to stop fooling around like this. You know what I mean, too, so don't try and play dumb with me. You're a lot smarter than you were when I first picked you up that day near London. And you were a lot smarter than a lot of the girls I have here that have been with me since London.
"I know what you are doing because I knew that you were doing it back in London. I know you can endure a lot of pain and that the real torture is not letting you get fucked while it all goes on. I know you can take a lot more than other women and I know you are using it against me like that. You are a hard woman to break, but I know I can do it, if I have to. Everything has its breaking point, and you, my pretty, are no exception. But what worries me, to speak frankly, is that I may hit it before you. What I suggest then is . ... "
There was a pause and she took a deep breath. Linda had never seen Greta like this before, and it intrigued her as well as worried her. But she said nothing, preferring to wait and let the master go on as she wished.
"What I am. trying to say, Linda, is that I know the two of us would make a great team together. I mean, the two of us, here, on the high seas and out getting all the slaves we need. I could use a woman like you as a right hand man. I mean, I can make a very good slave ship. I think you know that because you have been my only problem. But they say that if one can't destroy, it is better to join and I am giving you this offer, if you want it. Stay here with me and help me run a tight ship. What do you think?"
There was a long silence and Linda just looked at the woman who had just offered a part of her kingdom. But what to do? Take it? Leave it? It certainly had something to it to make it attractive. But just how good an offer was it?
Linda knew that Greta would tire very quickly of the joint arrangement, leaving it finally for someone else to be disposed of in her mysterious ways, like Linda. She knew she would be off the ship in a week, dead or dying. She knew that Greta would never be able to live with such an arrangement. It was impossible. Greta was not that type of woman. She never was and could never be.
Yes, Linda knew just what would happen to her. If she let things stay as they were, she would probably end up a bloodied mess, but there would be at least two things in her favor in that she would be a lot happier as a bloodied mess than dead and that she would be erotically stimulated enough to make everything else worth it for a while. There was not too much else that she would have to worry about. After all, as far as clothes, went, there weren't any, unless Greta wanted her to wear something, and that would be leather that she would give her. Food? Greta always fed her slaves because she liked them as healthy as she could get them. How about a place to stay? Rent-free right there on the ship. Really, the more she thought about it, she had it just the way she wanted it all to be. There was absolutely nothing that she didn't have to keep her going. It was the best arrangement that could be arranged. She would be content with it for a while. And when she got tired, there were always ways to escape. That was a certainty. So why shouldn't she stay where she was and be the arrogant slave she had been before. It would be a lot more fun than being a right hand man to Greta for one week and then spending the rest of time floating face down in the ocean. There were some choices too easy to be made. This was one of them.
The more she thought about it, the more she wondered why she even had to think about it all. After all, there was so much else to worry about. Forget this. And she did.
"Well, I'm waiting for an answer. Will you give it to me?"
She thought for a moment and then opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the entrance of some of the slaves who danced in to see her.
"We've sighted a ship off on the horizon."
"Slaves!! Who told you to come in here without my calling you?"
"But there is a ship out...."
"Have I ever given you permission to come in and see me just like that, barging in and all? Have I?"
"No."
"No, what?"
"No, sir."
"Better. "Now listen to me, get the hell out of here before I give you something that will make you remember nothing at all. I don't care about the ship on the horizon. I have slaves enough on this ship to train, judging from the entrance you made just now. Now do me a favor and get the hell out of this cabin because when I do come out finally, I am going to teach each of you a lesson that I don't think will be forgotten for a long time to come. Do you understand me?"
There was a long pause and a silence as no one moved.
"I think, Greta dear, that I will refuse your generous offer of proposal. I shant wish to be your partner or anything else of the sort."
The fact that she had been refused was not the primary point in her sudden flare-up of anger. It had more to do with the method that she had been refused in. It had been in front of the other slaves. And something had to be done.
"The ship on the horizon will not be pursued. You all have jobs to do, so please get to them. I must continue speaking with Linda."
Slowly, the room emptied out and left the two alone again.
"I shall repeat my terms again and I will see how far they get this time."
Greta took out a match and struck it and lit the candle. Although it was a distance below, it was directly below the crack between Linda's two tits. This would not only get her attention, this new form of torture, but would be guaranteed to get Greta what she wanted. And Greta was ready for just about anything that would happen. Everything was fair game and the rules were set and ready. This would be a final round, too.
The flame took to the candle wick and rose steadily until Linda began to feel the heat of the flame against her tits. She began to move back, but suddenly she realized that she was unable to move back, for there was something keeping her from moving at all. It was the chain which was now firmly in the hand of Greta and with the smile on her face, it was clear as to what was about to happen and Linda wondered what might it all give way to.
"Now then, because I think you might have been a little hard of hearing, or perhaps you failed to fully understand me before, but at any rate, I will repeat what I said before and that is that I will give you a chance to become my closest hand on this ship. I'm giving you part of my empire. What do you say to that?"
"It is a lovely day at sea today, isn't it?"
Greta pulled on the chain and suddenly Linda felt herself closer to the fire than she would have wanted to be for comfort. The heat of the flame felt as if it were beginning to cook her like a roast of meat. Greta continued.
"I believe you did hear me that time, so again I ask, what might be your answer?
"Did you notice the tits on that one blonde that was standing near the door? I believe she is splendid. I would love to get my hands on her and do what I would with her."
Again the chain pulled her closer to the flame, this time the strong hand of Greta holding her there rather than letting her go as it had the time before.
"Are you going to answer me this time, or are you going to give me some kind of inane remark?"
"I don't really know. Does this sound to you like an answer or an inane remark?"
Again the flame found its way closer to the huge tit and this time the heat began to get a little too much for her to bear. She writhed, but the chain still held the spoked ball in place and she soon found herself in a most compromising situation. She had very little idea as to what she would be able to do about it all. All she really could do would be to let the flames sweep over her like they were doing. Don't struggle. That only makes it worse.
"I give you one last chance, my pretty. Otherwise it is going to be most unpleasant for you."
Again she met with silence. There was a pause and finally Linda spoke.
"Don't you think you should have gotten the message by now?"
That was not the right thing to say to Greta and she was gripped by a mass of anger. She wanted to kill the arrogant blonde-haired bitch. That was all she asked at the moment. She wanted to destroy. She wanted to kill. She wanted to amend the wrong done to her ego by this bitch that stood over the candle.
She brought the chain closer to her and let the flames almost lick the warm flesh of the tit.
"Ever been sucked off by a flame?"
Linda wasn't sure if she wanted to try. No, she was sure. She knew she didn't want that at all, but yet, there was something. It seemed to tell her to go ahead. At any rate, Greta was now placed on a spot that she had to get out of and she had just the thing.
"I have just the thing," she said. "I know what will put your mind in your head in the right vein. I have just the very thing. And with a flash, she lead the bewildered and even frightened Linda off to a new horror.
CHAPTER THREE
Linda thought she would have been disappointed if there proved to be no secret trap doors or the like around the ship. There would have to be something like that just to make it seem like the way these things are in the novels and now, when she was led off to one of the very things she wasn't too sure she wanted to be taken there. It was not going to be anything too great as she thought about it. By that, she meant that her enjoyment would definitely be minimal. This one would be no picnic at all and she was not looking too eagerly for the joys that it would bring. It wouldn't bring too many of them at all.
The door that it started out with was deceptively hidden as a wood panel. It had no clue as to what it would be hiding, but there it sat nonetheless and she would be taken inside it and tortured. The spiked ball kept hitting against her cunt and making her wince with every step.
"Let's run the last few steps, shall we?"
Linda didn't want to run at all, but there was no choice. She had to do it because she was on the end of the leash and whatever the master wanted, she would have to do.
Greta ran with the chain in her hand and pulled the woman along as the spiked ball lit into her cunt harder and harder and felt as if it were stabbing her. The captain just laughed as it happened and ran even faster.
Linda tried to hunch her shoulders and drop the ball lower, but it made no difference at all. She was in that clutch that would allow anything to happen and there was no telling what would be next, except more pain and discomfort and anguish and agony. It wouldn't be pleasant, but it would be such a relief when it stopped.
They ran faster and faster. Would they ever get to the trap door? Would this be the way they would go on forever? Would she die like this? Would she fall over from a fatal stab in the cunt?
An occasional stab would land inside the twat like a prick and she would savor that for the brief moment that it existed for her, but after that she knew that she was being ripped apart by the ball and she could feel the blood flowing too freely down her legs and onto the floor as they continued to race about the deck.
They had gone past the door a number of times. Greta was being her usual sadistic self now and it was hell for anyone to have to go through. This was the sort of thing that Linda vowed she would get even with the woman for. It was the very thing she had said she would even the score with, if she would be able to find a way to do it.
But the ball knew none of this. All it knew was that there was pussy to puncture and that it had work to do and that it would get to do it. It seemed as if the ball had a mind of its own and that it wanted to destroy the pussy before it, leaving its mark in her forever. The ball struck against her more times, it seemed, than it had to. For every one or two times she would consider it normal, it would strike at least ten times more than she figured it would have to. She understood it not and the whole thing was at the point that she had to get away from the ball and get away quick.
But just when it all seemed like it would be hopeless and nothing but raw, awful pain, something seemed to happen that made it all different. Suddenly, it was more as if the feeling was erotic rather than painful. Again it jabbed her and again it tingled the twat and again she suddenly found herself hoping for more. It was the most amazing thing she had ever experienced, she thought. It was like getting raped by a metal hand with long fingernails and suddenly she liked it. No, she didn't like it, she loved it. She wanted to race all about the deck and let the sharp spikes turn her into a bloody, happy erotic mess of bloodied flesh. It was the most amazing thing she had ever felt before in her life. It was incredible. She wanted to be taken by this cold iron hand and she wanted it to be as soon as possible, and that would indeed be soon.
If Greta had realized this, Linda thought, she would have stopped me right then and there, but she probably doesn't suspect a thing and so that is really great. Really great.
They raced on.
"Faster, you fucking bitch. Come on, race faster. You can do it. I know you can do it. Now get the hell going and do it!"
Suddenly, the feelings she had wanted were approaching and she could feel the spike hit her in the very right place. Her clit might have been punctured and destroyed, but it made no difference at all now. She was in the best possible condition she could imagine. She was about to come and come hard and she was happy as hell.
She began to quiver and shake as she ran and suddenly she was dropping large globs of her cunt juice about the deck and leaving a spotted trail as the drops fell to the deck and splattered themselves on the wood. They were big and wet and the ball was covered with them very quickly and they dripped from the spikes, too. She could feel the great waves of the orgasm grab her and shake her until she thought she would go out of her mind from the pain of the ball in her cunt, the orgasm and the fact that it was too sensitive around her cunt to take either the running or the ball as she ran about the deck, coming and sending off her very life.
Great saw the way the woman was now running out of control and then noticed the great pools of cunt juice on the deck. She raced the woman faster and Linda now went out of her head in pain. It was all so much that she had no idea of anything at all. She began screaming at the top of her lungs and uttering sounds, words, anything. It made no difference. She had to get the sounds out.
"Fuck! Fuck!" she screamed like a mad thing. She was too far gone to realize anything. Anything at all. And one of the last things she might have realized was Greta guiding her full speed into a wall.
Had she been aware of it, all she would have seen were the stars that flashed around her head and she would have felt the searing jab that smashed into her cunt and almost wrecked it completely. It would have been worse had it hit on a different angle, but it didn't, and she was merely knocked out.
She came through the wall entirely and smashed it to nothing but a mass of splinters. She had no idea just how far she had gone until she stopped in the center of the room on the other side of the wall and fell through a trap door and down into the dungeon below, Greta watching the whole time and laughing at what was going on.
But even Greta couldn't deny the erotic feelings the whole scene gave off. It was more than she would be able to take and the thrill of the moment became sexual as she could almost feel the same pain that Linda felt. Greta fell to the floor and writhed to as an orgasm of massive proportions struck at her and rendered her senseless as she, too, gave off a million gallons of cunt juice and sent it off onto the deck in an ever-expanding puddle that became nothing but a large pool of the juice. It was more than she would be able to take, but then, it was the one very nice thing about the slave ship. There was always something going on to get off on.
Linda was out cold for a long time, long enough for some new type of thing to take place in the world of torture. She had been tortured on the cunt long enough, Greta figured. One can destroy a cunt only so much before it becomes broken beyond repair. Then it gets to be a thing that is no longer much use to anyone at all and you can't even torture it effectively. But bring it to the breaking point and just leave a little short of it and there are a world of possibilities to be explored. That was the very thought that passed through Greta's mind as she put Linda into the new torture that she had waiting for her. This one was to be the best of them all so far, too. If this didn't break the spirit of the girl, nothing would and she would have to be disposed of in some other way. Death wasn't a very nice trip, but it would be necessary if nothing else worked.
When Linda awoke from her sleep, she found herself in a new device.
"What the hell is this?"
"This, my dear, is something that could never be possible anywhere else but on board a ship."
"Why is that?"
"Because I never thought of it on land. I do, however, think that once you've tried it out, you will agree that there has never been anything like it and that there may be nothing like it ever. I don't like to get too definite about it, though, because I hate to box myself into something. You know?"
"I know. What is it?"
It was a most unusual concoction. Linda's head was kept in place by a strong metal harness and her tits rested on a wooden counter. On either side and raised a little ways above the massive bulbs of soft, pliable yet squeezably soft flesh were two gutters in which things round could be rolled down and onto the two overripe tits. Her hands were bound to the platform supports at the elbows and wrists and her legs had been pinned against the wooden pole that held it up by metal bands. At her cunt was a V made out of wood where the supports branched out and her cunt was held inside rigidly. It seemed as if she would never be able to move a muscle from the position she was placed inside.
"And that is exactly what I have in mind, too, my pretty." Greta was no longer laughing. She was cackling. "And when you see what is going to happen, you will probably agree that something is going to give, and I hope it is your spirit. This is one that would be too good a device to waste on just anyone, you know. I think it would be marvelous. What you will feel after this is going to be the greatest feeling. For you, I have created this masterpiece. It is a definite work of art and worthy of a place in a famous museum. It is one of the supreme devices in the world of torture and I know that it would be the greatest thing that you will experience because, for no other reason, it is the greatest thing that has ever been devised for torture, if I may be so modest again."
"Oh, you may. You may. It is by far the least offensive part of you."
Greta wasn't sure just how to take it, but she knew exactly how it was meant. She just smiled a sick smile and nodded her head.
"Pity, but I will miss these verbal sparring sessions that we seem to have a lot of. This, my dear, is the ultimate in torture. If you come out of this with a completely undented spirit, as I seem to fear you might, then there is no hope for you but to do something so completely sinister that it even curdles my blood."
"The little that isn't yet curdled, I suppose."
Pause. "Yes. Now, if you're ready, so much the better. Otherwise, it is too bad. Ta-ta." And with that, she left the room and walked away laughing rather loudly. Linda could feel the walls vibrating with the pulsating laugh and her blood froze again. She knew what was about to happen. Exactly what it would be, details ... they mattered little. All she knew was that the feeling would be far from good.
She rolled her eyes upwards to see what was about to happen. She could barely see the form of Greta over her, laughing hysterically.
"Okay, my pretty. Get ready for this one. It'll knock you out!"
The next sound she heard was that of something rolling down the chute and gathering momentum with each passing second. Whatever it was, she was unable to see it yet and she knew it wouldn't be anything she would enjoy. She knew it would be more than she wanted. Even a masochist has limits.
The object got closer and closer and she was finally able to see what it was. It was a ... a cannon ball! The feelings that raced through her body along with a rapid heartbeat were more than she thought she could stand. It was going to be a feeling that she would never be able to get over. It would completely destroy her tits.
The hollow sound of the rolling ball grew closer and closer and it seemed as if it would never hit. She wanted it to hit its mark and get it over with. She wanted the thing to hit her and let the pain end. It would be over in a second.
She tried to get out of the confining braces. She struggled and found it was no use at all. She couldn't even move her chest to get her tits off the counter they rested on. She was trapped. Greta realized this more than she did and laughed even louder at the futile struggling. She was enjoying the very moment of the drama that unfolded below her. This was all the sort of thing she had hoped for and she wanted it to really get going because she was horny again. She would have a ball with the cannon ball smashing off the tits and whenever Linda thought it was all over, it would begin all over again. That would be an even better part of it.
The ball was getting closer and closer and Linda's pulse was racing so fast that she thought her heart would give out right then and there. It would be the sort of thing where she would die of a heart attack just before it hit and it was rolling faster and faster with each passing second. Faster and faster, nearer and nearer and nearer and suddenly ... bang!
The ball hit with a loud thud that was drowned out by the cry that her tongue loosed upon the world. The scream rose throgh the air and out of the hatch that the crazed pirate captain looked into. The scream filled the air above the ship and filtered out to the entire area, covering the earth as it continued to issue from the lips of the prisoner as the pain wracked her body and made her feel as if she was crumbling.
Bang! Another one hit the other tit just as the effects of the first hit were beginning to wear off. Again, the mighty wail rose from the woman's lips and she felt the entire world begin to destruct around her. Her tits were flat, crushed by the weight of the cannon ball that hit her tit and then rolled off the counter and dropping to the floor, missing her bound feet by mere fractions of an inch.
They kept rolling on down the chute. Each time she thought that it might have been the last, there was another one to take the place of it and the pain would reach a new height in intensity. Her tits were becoming totally discolored and they began to swell up to a size that seemed to be almost completely abnormal. And the pain seemed bent only on matching that. It was more than she was able to bear. She wanted to die. Death wouldn't allow her to feel the pain she felt. Life did. She tried thinking death, but there was nothing she could do because she was still living. Could she die? Would they be kind enough to let it happen? She could only hope. nd still the balls kept on coming at her. And the pain, rather than numbing as it would normally do, stayed on and grew in intensity as the sensitive skin below grew more and more sensitive and she could feel the blows hit her harder and harder. She was no longer sure just what was happening. All she knew was that the end of the world was upon her. The sky was getting black and the screams that she heard were not hers but of the poor souls trapped beneath a falling sky which would crumble down on them and crush them mercilessly. It would be the fitting end to a world where the decadence of Greta was allowed to exist.
Greta watched from above as a slave that she had commanded to do so ate out the rough snatch that Greta kept between her legs. Greta had no desire to miss what she was being treated to and she wanted to experience it the best way she knew. A second slave was there to drop the cannon balls at the right time and they would keep it up until Greta decided she had seen enough. And that seemed to be a long way off, too.
The more Linda screamed, the more turned on Greta became and the more turned on Greta became, the more she ordered the cannon balls to be dropped until she was so lost in the world of her own sexuality that she no longer seemed to know what was going on. It seemed as if there was too much for any one person to handle on either end and they were all getting to a point of such total arousal that no one could stand it any longer.
Greta grew closer and closer to her own orgasm and she knew she would come with a terrible force, but she would love it. The slave at her cunt had such a marvelous tongue that was so well trained that Greta could never see giving her up at all. It was something short, but not by much, of a miracle. She had no idea that a tongue could work so well. It was the greatest thing she had ever experienced.
The tongue ripped away at her again and again and the woman felt the strong flesh inside her cunt and taking terrible liberties with her sexuality. It cuddled her clit and vibrated the vagina. It wowed the walls and totally tingled the twat. She was really at the end of her rope.
That was when she suddenly began gasping for air and the fleshy mass of cunt became a ruptured pipe of cunt juice, spewing it all about the area, sending her completely out of her mind with the way that the whole thing went. She had no idea just what she would be able to do and she knew only that there was a great orgasm in progress, stimulated by the screams and yells of a marvelous piece of cunt below who was in such utter and exquisite pain and agony that she could do nothing but enjoy what went on for her benefit. It was almost like a show in which she had been invited to look on and see all the people who had been trained to perform their strange rites just for her and if she was turned on by them, so much the better. After all, it was all for her, wasn't it?
Linda was close to hoarseness and when she felt the drops of Greta's come hit her, she was certain the torture wouldn't last that much longer and she was glad when she was seemingly right. But she was so near the end of everything, that all she was able to do was to close her eyes and let it all wash over her like a bad dream. That's all she seemed to need. That was all the rest she thought she would be able to take. Her head hung in the harness like a bell clapper and she merely closed her eyes and in a second moment, was totally oblivious to whatever else was going on in the area.
Greta left her there on her harness for a while. She would be taken out later when she had a chance to think of what she would say to Greta on removal. Greta had other slaves on the ship to take care of.
There were three women already bound on the deck for her to do something with. They had been there all morning waiting for the punishment of some task they failed to perform to the satisfaction desired. Their arms were tied behind their backs at the elbow and the hands tied to the hands of the person next to them at the wrist, save for the two hands on either side that would find themselves handing stray, save for the little work Greta did and found a new way of tying them up, too. And the same went basically for the knees where they were tied up, knee to knee. Heads were in metal harnesses and tied through a ring in the leather at the top of the head to a mast that held up a sail. The rest of the body was untouched, save for the marks where the whip had caressed their naked bodies.
Greta believed these girls wanted more. She believed all of her slaves wanted mor and she was always willing to oblige the desires of that sort that they always had. There was no reason not to and she would always whip them the more they wanted it. And if they didn't, she would whip them anyway. After all, a person can never be whipped too much. That was a fact that Greta herself had proven to be true without a shadow of a doubt.
The whip was ready and Greta raised it behind her shoulder in the better flogging stance that she had found to get the best results. After all, a good flogging had to be carried off correctly and if anyone knew about the best ways to flog, it was indeed Greta.
She lashed out at the three women with the whip and decorated their backs, asses, and legs with the red lines that the whip leaves as a calling card. There was so much of their firm bodies to flog and Greta was having such a great time at it, she knew it would be a chore to stop doing it altogether. After all, there is nothing quite like a good flogging. Had she been able to, she would have made it mandatory for everyone in the world to flog.
After all, why not? When there is always someone around to be flogged, do it. That was her motto. Flog it, beat it, crush it, pulverize it, smash it, chain it, humiliate it, destroy it, fuck it, take it, rape it ... they were all interchangeable mottos that she kept in her mind to help the day go a little bit better.
In the warped mind of Greta, each day was there to flog or likewise destroy someone and only that made the day worth anything. Days were just for that very thing and she knew it just as well as anyone else. And she knew that the major reason that any day wouldn't come off was that there had to be someone stimulating to destroy. She wondered who would be next.
The whip cracked across the soft skin of the three maidens tied up above the leather-clad madame and each crack of the whip sent them mad for cover of some sort or another. Each time she smashed the leather against them, they could feel a tingle leap all throughout their bodies and it would take them and annihilate them totally. It was the sort of thing they got used to, but it did take a good while for it to happen. But then, it was worth it, wasn't it?
She cracked the whip across their asses, opening up new grooves of flesh for inspection by the salt air. They were hit repeatedly and again repeatedly and the more they were hit, the more they seemed to writhe in pleasure, although she was sure that it must be some kind of mistake because this was a crop of new recruits, recently brought in to see if they could stand the grade and even if they couldn't, they would still be trained to because that was the way of the slave ship. Greta would have it no other way.
They screamed and their screams went out all over the boat to serve as a reminder to anyone who felt they could get around Greta one way or another. Greta no longer remembered why she was whipping the girls, but she did know that she must have had a good reason to do so because she was indeed whipping them and she wouldn't have done it for nothing. She never did anything like that for nothing. It was the way she was. And if it was for nothing after all, then they would remember to keep things well for the next time. Let it be a lesson to them. A new slave could never use too many lessons and that was the truth.
So Greta finished whipping the slaves and left to see how Linda was doing. She left the women hanging in the air because she knew she would come back to them and take them on again. That was the way of Greta. Let them think that they had the full treatment before ripping into them all over again. It was the fun way of doing it all and she enjoyed it immensely. Very much indeed.
The whipping continued and the cracks of the whip played themselves on and on in the mind of Greta. But whippings always lived on inside her head. They were always there when she wanted them. They didn't have to be physical whippings to turn her on, but they did have to be the real thing in order to keep the slaves in their place. But since that would be able to wait, and since she wasn't too sure that Linda would, she dropped the one in favor of the other and she was out like a flash to see what her brand new re-acquired slave was up to. It should be something delicious, she thought.
Linda was not quite as servile as Great would have loved her to be, but at least she was not as strong as she had been before. That was more than she had realistically expected and Greta decided to give her something of another chance, so to speak.
"I've got some other things in mind for you, so I guess one might say that we've hit the next plateau, you know?"
Linda knew. Things would get better here. They would be a milder torture than some of it had been before because there was no real reason to completely destroy the girl now, yet there would still be some wild bits of torture so that she wouldn't get too confident that all was over now. On the contrary, it had just begun.
The proper training of a slave has to be done in stages. The first stage is the breaking of the slave's will. That is always the hardest thing and requires the most work. One has to have the perserverance of a saint to successfully carry it off because there are so many times that, just as things look like they're getting better, they might become worse and there is that moment that every master has at one time or another when the thought of "is it all really worth it?" comes flying through their mind and they really wonder if they have done anything that is going to pay off in the end. But a good master can go beyond that and surpass it beautifully, sometimes even beyond the wildest of dreams.
At any rate, this would be stage one when the most torturous devices imaginable are used. It is, of course, up to the discretion of the trainer as to what will be used, but there are some of the finest things used in order to break a slave in. Some of them are not to be believed at all in the power they can hold. Racks and bars and wheels and ropes form just a small part of it all.
The next step is an easing into the slave mold. There is a lot that still has to be done, but it is a lot easier because it is no longer being fought with the strong iron will that had manifested itself in the earlier stages. Oh, the slave might become rebellious just when you think it will never happen, but it never really does work out like that because it is only a few that are not sufficiently broken in like that when it comes off that way.
If such a thing does happen, a quick trip back through the familiar territory of stage one should correct things and if not, then it might be wise to either come up with even greater tortures or to just dispose of the person as a good slave should have manifested itself completely by that time. If not, it might be a waste of time, depending on what the span of interest is and interest in a challenge would be on the part of the master.
Stage two would include, as said before, lighter tortures and still using the same equipment as in stage one, but not as heavily as in stage one. A stage one slave could be in pain all day long, but not a stage two slave, for a stage two slave doesn't need it. And the length of time a slave in stage one is in pain may or may not mean too much, depending on how it is looked at. There are those who believe that a slave exposed to the same pain for a long length of time will burn not unlike soup in a pan that is not stirred will burn to the pot. The pain might need a bit of stirring to keep it from getting dull and it is a good idea to keep things fresh.
Another school says that it is fine to leave them in the same pain for a prolonged period of time because the pain transcends into a million levels of its own and besides, when the victim is eventually removed from his torture rack, the pain will begin all over again as the muscles are forced into another position. It can work either way.
Greta wasn't sure which one she preferred, as it all seemed to go according to the way she felt at the time of the torture. If she felt a certain way, she would react a certain way and if she felt still another way, she would react that way, too.
All was relative to her. She had been in the business for a long time and she knew a good many of the ways in and around certain things. It would be rather hard for her to be placed in a bad position because, as said before, she did indeed know her way around the whole thing. She had a good idea as to what she would be able to do and not be able to do and she was going to do it in such a way that she knew she would break Linda if it was the last thing she did.
The thought that came into Greta's mind as she tried to think of something for Linda was that she could catch more flies with sugar than with vinegar. That would be fine advice if she was catching flies, but she wasn't. Instead, she was breaking a slave and the thought lingered on in her mind until she realized the right way to adapt it. She would use honey in her work, but the honey would be cunt. There was no woman alive, she decided, that wouldn't want a piece of cunt like hers, and she would let Linda have it ... but under torturous conditions, naturally. Let it begin to sink into her mind that humiliating bondage was great and she would be hers forever. Give her a girl at an impressionable age and she would be her slave for the rest of her life.
The apparatus she had in mind for Linda was a couple of metal balls that would hang from her tits separately and to tie her in a bent over position so that the leg muscles would stretch to a point of total agony. Spread her legs out a little with a metal bar and there would be the best way to start things out. This would be it all.
Linda was just coming around as Greta came in to see how she was.
"Sleep well?"
Linda groaned.
"So, what do you think of it now? Want to be arrogant again, Linda?"
Linda groaned again. She was too dragged out to say a word.
"Perhaps," Greta said, "you need something of a rest. Is that it?"
Again Linda, groaned.
"My, my. We can't have a person on board the ship in a state like that." Greta hit her with the whip once to wake her up. Linda hardly felt the stinging on her flesh. She was too far gone to know too much of anything. "Shall we try it again? Would you like to wake up?"
"To your ugly face?"
Things were indeed getting back to normal.
"Yes, to my ugly face. The face you will come to know and respect, if I have to kill you to get you to do that."
"I can certainly respect your face when I'm dead, can't I?"
"You'd better believe it. You'll praise me from your watery grave, assuming we even have the thought to heave you overboard. We might just let the maggots get you. Use you as a reminder of what happens to a slave that doesn't obey."
"And what if I obey?"
There was the silence that comes with a remark that no one expected, yet everyone hoped for.
"Would you repeat that? I'm not sure I got it the first time."
There was a pause as Linda got her breath together again. "I said, what if I decided to obey?"
"Then we take you on to the next step of training."
Linda thought hard. "Did I ever get that before?"
"You don't remember?"
"It has been two years at least, dear. Give my memory a chance."
"Yes, I do believe you rose rather high in the ranks. I had some thoughts of advancing you before you got so high up on your horse and ran away to tell the police all about the house. You could have at least left quietly and let me have my torture garden. I do still think it most inconsiderate of you to have done that, you know. I still steam a bit when I think of it. I had the perfect life going on up there in London and you had to come along and ruin the whole thing. I really will never see what you had it in for me about. I never treated you that badly. I have always been fair in treatment to all my girls unless one does step out of line badly, but I do think that you would know what to expect about stepping out of line as you did manage to do a marvelous job of it. I mean, you were magnificent in your execution."
"I suppose you plan to be magnificent in your execution, too. Are you trying to train me or kill me?"
"Both perhaps. It is hard to say. I start one thing and find myself getting carried away with another. It is terrible, don't you agree? I think if we really talked about it, I might find several neurosis there that would have to be dealt with immediately. I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if I were a full-fledged psychopath."
"Neither would I, dear. I wouldn't be at all surprised if you were, too."
"See what I mean? It is getting rather apparent, I think. Perhaps I'll have it checked the next time we land in a port."
Her loud, spine-chilling cackle raged on through the air again as Linda realized that they would never touch down in port. She was doomed to spend the rest of her days on a ship with a self-admitted psychopath. That was not the worst thing in the world, however, because, as she gave it some thought, she realized that she might be in even worse shape. There might be two of them on the ship. That would be a problem.
The next thing she knew, however, there was someone loosening the bonds that held her into the brace that she was tied into. She was in the wooden brace and was now being taken out of it. This was the freeing of the prisoner from the prison and the two of them were going to go on. to another room without chains this time. This' time she was being taken out free and clear and taken to who would know where else for the next stage of it all. It was not the nicest thing she could think of because the nicest thing she could think of was letting her go completely, but this was at least something that wasn't as bad as some of the things that had passed. And what made it seem even stranger was that Greta actually seemed human this time, something that had never been apparent before.
Out of her last brace of torture, Linda felt like a new person. She could stretch, but within limits because she was covered with bruises and scars and so many blemishes of the skin that she looked horrible. A few days earlier, she was a maiden of uncommon beauty. Now she was in terrible shape.
It was the one thing that she would never have forgiven Greta for had she been able to see herself in a mirror, but as there were no mirrors around the place, it would be a bit difficult for such a thing to be done. Mirrors were in certain rooms and Greta knew enough to avoid these with her now until the wounds healed, both physically and mentally. After all, training a good slave is not the easiest thing in the world and a lot of things have to be taken into consideration. Greta had enough experience to know what she would be able to get away with. The time was now ripe to let Linda rest and recover for a while. There were creams on board that would have her fixed up like new in no time and they would be employed to their, fullest extent because there would be little fun in having her for a slave training with all the bruises and scars on her as they were. There were other things that would have to be done first and the rest was good to heal her body and also her mind. She would get the feeling of apprehension for what might be next, but also of greatfulness and the idea that maybe Greta wasn't so ruthless after all, and that maybe underneath all that leather, there was a heart of something human after all.
"I'm going to let you rest for a while, my dear," she told her slave-to-be. "I believe that for the moment you have definitely earned a rest. So I will show you to your room and you may stay there until you feel well enough to continue."
And if Linda had any ideas of what it would be like in the coming time, she had a rest period to really let them get out of hand.
CHAPTER FOUR
Linda was indeed allowed to recuperate from the tortures she had undergone until there was no sign at all of what she had gone through left on her body. She was as clear and unblemished as the day she had been brought aboard. Greta also treated her well by giving her all the food she would need to make a speedy recovery. Linda knew she was getting a red-carpet treatment because of the way that Greta hoped it would make her recover quickly and be ready to undergo more torture for she had been put through an unusual amount of it all before, but that she also wished for her to think somewhat kindly of her and take her up on the offer to help her run the ship. Linda would never agree to it, but she would not discourage whatever Greta had that she wanted to use on her to try and convince her to take it. That was completely in her favor. It is was torture, that was okay. Linda knew she would be able to take it. If it was something like the kid glove treatment she was getting now. that was also fine. Anything was acceptable. Anything at all.
The next thing that would happen, as Linda figured, would be a renewed sparring match. She enjoyed them even though she knew that Greta did come back with the better retorts, both verbal and physical, but then, why shouldn't she? She was, after all, in a better position to do so as she was the queen master of the ship and the controller of all the activities that went on about the ship. She was the one that one had to answer to and when you've got all the apparatus around that she did, you do manage to control everything. And so it was with Greta. Completely.
Greta did come up to see Linda every once in a while, but conversations were short and abrupt and not very friendly at all with Linda figuring that Greta didn't want to appear as if she were softening too much. Soften a little, but not too much or else all might be lost.
Besides, there were other slaves on the ship to be attended to and they had to be watched like hawks for they did have a tendency to get out of line a bit, too. They were always in danger of getting too much out of line and so if they were watched like hawks, they wouldn't even have the time to think of getting out of line. And that is the way to handle a slave.
Linda was in bed for a while and enjoying it completely. Not only did it give her time to heal and rest, but also time to think. And she began to think of her last charge, the girl named Miranda. She had-been hired by her father and was doing the sort of splendid job that the old man liked. Miranda was a stunning girl of sixteen with brown hair and a pleasant face and the reason that Linda liked her so much was because she was a knockout as far as beauty went. She had a beautiful face, actually, and her body was too well put-together to be believed. If there was one thing that Linda wanted, it was to get close enough to her charge to be able to have her sexually That was her one great desire and she knew that if she would work at it long enough, she would get there. That was, of course, until she got picked up again by Greta.
Greta's slave ship had destroyed everything. There was no way off it and there was no great chance of getting to be with Miranda now that things had happened as they had. Linda would eventually forget about Miranda because that was natural. She would probably never really think about her after a couple more days, but she would be on that damned slave ship for the rest of her life. That was the thing that bothered her the most.
There were very few things Linda wanted in life, but of get off the slave ship and get back into Miranda was one of them. Or maybe it altogether.
When she had finally become well enough to please Greta, Linda was moved from the sick bay to her quarters which were not too unlike the ones she had before, as she had many of the same conveniences. She had a bed and a dresser and a wash stand in her cabin while almost all the other girls had straw to sleep on. Linda knew why. And she would still say no to the question it it would ever pop up again. She had no desire to share the ship in leadership with Greta.
Greta was now about to embark on the second stage of the training, however, and that would begin quite soon. It would be a rather strange thing for Linda because she couldn't remember it at all although she knew that she had gone through it before. She must have, but it was a total memory blot to her. It might have been any number of things that happened, but they were all a blur to her. But no matter for with the training beginning, things should come back to her soon enough.
She went to Greta's cabin that morning to see what the captain had-in mind to begin the training with.
"So, my pretty, how are you feeling?"
"Oh, fit as a fiddle. And yourself?"
"Never felt better in my life. I always feel good when there is a new slave to break in even more. I love this time of the year. Oh, do I ever. And have I got some to tures for you!"
"I figured. You've such a torture for me that I will probably wish I were dead, right?"
"Wish? My dear, you'll pray!"
"What are you going to do to me?"
Greta paused for a moment. "That's right. You never did remember what it was like. Well, first of all, how do you feel sexually at the moment?"
"I could take it or leave it."
"Well, my pretty, you are going to take it."
That was about all that anyone had to say to her for it all began to come back to her suddenly. She could remember something suddenly about what it had been like before. The key had opened the chest and a flood of memories began to come back, but the light was a little dim yet and it was a little bit rough to see just what it was that she could remember of her experiences and she had a good idea as to what was coming.
"I'm going to be eating you out, right?" Linda asked.
"Oh, that is very good. You do remember some things, don't you?"
Linda smiled. "Every once in a while."
"Remember anything else, my pretty?"
Linda shook her head. She was pleased she had remembered as much as she did. Greta smiled. She would show her and refresh her memory.
Linda was led to the captain's bedroom where there was a huge bed waiting for use. It would be put to great use, too. They both knew it.
"Sit down and take a load off your feet. You'll need all the rest you can get right now, my pretty." Greta went off to get something while Linda sat down.
Greta returned in a moment with an iron bar.
"Remember this one? Does it all come back to you now?"
Linda looked up for a moment. Yes. Yes, it did come back to her suddenly. She could remember it all as if it were yesterday.
"Yes, I do remember that bar. It is a marvelous little thing, isn't it? That is one of the things that I thought I would never forget."
"Well, I can gurantee that you won't forget it too much longer. In fact, it might be with you for a long time to come and I think I can guarantee that, my pretty."
The bar was brought out and Linda was placed in the stirrup on either end. Her legs were now spread apart.
Next Greta took her hands and tied them to the bar, forcing her to bend rather far over in a most uncomfortable position.
"Oh, I never did tell you, but there is something else I added to this. I think you may like it."
Greta produced a couple of iron ball weights that were like the ones she had used earlier.
"I use these all the time now. I find them to be so handy to have around. They add flavor to just about anything that I can come up with and I really think that they will do a marvelous job. I think you'll love them, too."
Linda could say nothing, for it made no difference what she thought. It would still remain on her tits. And Greta did that very thing, tying one ball to each nipple and watching as they pulled her down even farther. Greta cackled and hopped onto the bed, spreading her legs apart and thrusting her cunt directly at the mouth of Linda. Her body now hung below the bed level and it was a challenge to get it up to the level of Greta's roaring cunt lips. Greta, however, was ready for her and wanted her now and she would be rising to her level and the two of them would get into it all and soon.
The frenzy of activity was now beginning to reach a high level as she struggled to keep her mouth up high enough to eat out Greta and not incur the wrath of her master for at the moment, she was taking all the torture she could take.
The time seemed to crawl on by and Greta lay there on the bed waiting for the action to begin.
"Are you going to begin now or wait for the first of the month?" she demanded of her slave.
Linda answered by stretching her tongue out towards Greta.
"I think perhaps you need a bit of help. Let me see if this does anything for you." Greta reached over and grabbed her whip. The whip always worked wonders. She snapped it and the leather strap slammed across the tender ass of the slave. Immediately, her mouth jammed forward and into the cunt that waited for her. It was time for the fun and games to begin.
Her mouth ran against the twat and began to eat furiously of the fruits that were before it. She ate hard and fast until it began to get a little bit tiring, and she slowed down, but a good crack from the whip got her going again and there was no letting down at that point. Things would keep up like that for a while again until she would let down and then the whip would sing out and she would listen and go back to work, hard as ever. There was a good cycle to it and there was never much of a let down in activity as far as things went. Greta had her cunt worked on continually and Linda was always on the move. Both people seemed to be enjoying it, too.
Linda's tongue ran through the cunt and excited it beyond whatever belief the owner of the cunt figured would be possible. Linda went wild with the tough twat, kissing the cunt lips and kissing them hard. She frenched them and ran her tongue into the excited tunnel while the walls gave off the fluids they gave off when excited. There was no stopping either of them now and they went absolutely wild.
They went at each other with a frenzy that was unmatched by practically everything they had done earlier. They went wild with each other and the two of them were too much into what they were doing to realize that there was anything else to do but that of which they were doing. So they did it.
Linda was no longer thinking about the stretched boobs or her aching leg muscles that hurt beyond belief. No, now she was thinking of other things. She thought of the toughness of the snatch that was looking at her in the face, and how she would conquer it yet. Each lick of her tongue told her that some day she would be the one to have gotten rid of the queen bitch of the sea and that one day she would be the very person to rid the world of the menace that was known as Greta, the pirate queen of the sea. One day she would be the one to do it, and no one else would be able to claim the credit. It would be all hers.
She wondered if the others on the ship would help any at all. Probably not. They were a bunch of silly, immature children and it wouldn't really be worth the trouble to get them involved in her plot because they were probably about the same anyway. After all, they were all that way. That was the problem. That was always the problem.
At any rate, the next thing that would happen would be the orgasm. Linda set herself to get ready for that. It would be coming soon and she knew because she could feel the changes in her and she could feel Greta gripping the whip a little harder.
This also indicated to Linda the necessity to brace herself for there would be a good whipping about to happen and while it would be one of the all time great whippings that man could devise, for in this case, it was not man at all, but Greta, the pirate queen.
Greta's hands began to grip the whip handle tighter and tighter and Linda thought she could hear the handle groaning. She was positive that the whip was screaming itself and there would follow a bit of play with the leather strap that would be unlike anything that she had ever felt before in her life. It would be too much for her to stand, but she would stand it and, who was to say, but perhaps she would have an orgasm, too. It had happened that way in the past, and there was no telling what would happen at all.
Greta began to sway and moan and gasp for air and there was no doubt that something would happen. And it did, too. The effect was not unlike the breaking of a dam, for when she came, she came hard and fast. It was the most amazing thing that Linda had ever seen, for she had not seen the last orgasm that Greta had.
Greta came again in gallons and there was so much for Linda to get into her mouth and not let go that she was sure that there was more coming out of her now than there had ever been before. Her body must be made entirely of cunt juice, Linda thought, and she wouldn't have been surprised at all if she had been told it wasn't.
As Greta came, she began to snap the whip at Linda in orgasmic delight as the slave continued to eat out the cunt of the master. It was the continual of the blows from the whip that made Linda go at her mater even more and even began to bring her close to an orgasm of her own. It would be one of those really great ones, too, for the excitement of the whip was getting too much for her to take, and she knew that there would be an end to it soon, but had no real idea just when.
The whip cracked again and again and before long there was the feel of the orgasm strong in the body of the slave and she too felt as if she would come any moment. It would be a massive orgasm and they would both have come going out of their minds.
Again the whip and again and suddenly the body of Linda began to writhe madly in orgasmic pain while the whip continued to decorate the body with red streaks and dripping blood and the two of them were now mad with the feeling that they had from their activities. And they writhed madly and they could feel things get to a point where they knew that it would all be over soon when there was no more left to get rid of.
It finally happened, too, and Greta sank back on the bed in a heap while Linda leaned over into a comfortable position. Greta closed her eyes for a moment and was fast asleep in another. Linda just leaned against the bedpost and did the exact same thing.
They did not wake up at the same time. Both were more than exhausted with their activities and they slept for hours. The first to awaken was Greta.
She looked at the sleeping form of Linda and her first thought was to whip the hell out of her falling asleep. But it would be the one thing that she really didn't want to do at the time for, looking upon the sleeping form of the girl, she began to find the peacefulness that she exuded to be too nice to interrupt. It was peaceful, very peaceful.
Greta wasn't sure just what it was she was feeling towards this woman who she had tried to break so many times and never could succeed. She had often wondered what she would do if she were to come upon a woman who refused to be taken and she could never come up with an answer that would satisfy her. It would always be one of those "wait until you meet one" things and she knew that this was no answer at all. What she had needed was something more definite and there had to be something in the world that would tell her and tell her right. It would be hard to come with some answer of one sort or another and since the problem never really presented itself, there was no real solution forthcoming. She had never given too much thought to it after Linda had escaped because the one potential problem had escaped and there was no need to even think of her coming back. They never returned. Never. But this time, they did.
So, what to do? That was the problem. That was too much of a problem for one person to answer. And now she was face to face with the problem and she was totally at a loss for any sort of idea. She knew there had to be one, but where and why and how it was still remained illusive to her.
She also began to wonder about what she thought about Linda. Why couldn't she bring herself to be consistently mean to her? Was it because she knew that the one person in the world who could destroy her was Linda? She was the one person who knew the game and the rules just as well as she did, and she was the one who had invented them. Linda knew all that she had to know to get around Greta, and that could be dangerous. Very dangerous.
And then there was something else. Greta had come three times with Linda and each of them was a magnificent orgasm. They were all better than she had experienced in too long a time. Could that mean something, too? She wasn't sure at all. There had to be an explanation somewhere and there was going to be a good deal of trouble if things kept up the way they were going because if they did indeed continue as they were, it would potentially destroy all that Greta stood for. It wasn't advisable to fall in love with a slave.
Greta sat on the bed and looked at the bent over figure of the woman as it slept, slumped against the bed post. There wasn't much that ran through Greta's mind except that she had no idea what to think at all any longer. She had a good deal to worry about, too. Lack of a solution for the problem at hand might well bring up more problems and she needed none of them now. Linda was enough.
"Have I got a position for you!" intoned Greta to the awakening Linda.
"Don't bother," replied Linda. "The one I'm in is bad enough."
"No, no, my pretty. Nothing like that," Greta said, springing to her feet and untying Linda. "I've something else for you."
Linda was now fully untied, yet she remained bent over although the weights were no longer on her, nor was the bar attached to any part of her.
"Why don't you straighten up?"
"You tell me. You're the one who put me in this position."
"Well, you've got to get erect eventually."
"Let it be later eventually." Despite her words, Linda began to straighten up. It was slow and painful, but in a few minutes, she was standing erect, and massaging her stinging leg muscles.
"Now, what is this new position you've got for me?"
"I'm very pleased with the progress you've been making, my dear, and I want to give you a new position."
"Greta, we've been all through this-"
"Will you let me finish? Linda, you are going to let me finish a sentence. I am promoting you to a rank. You are going to have charge of your very own slave. She is yours to break. We got her last night while you were asleep. I should have called you for the raid and the boarding, but I thought you needed the rest more. She is a blonde, and her name is Jean and she is all yours. Perhaps you won't be such a difficult slave after this. You'll have some idea as to what others go through to break slaves and you won't think it any picnic ... perhaps."
Linda wasn't too sure if she wanted her own slave, but she did think it at least worth a try, especially since Greta was being so nice to her. It was one thing that made it a little better. She would take it and see what it was like. After all, to successfully overthrow the ruling class, it is necessary to gain their confidence and their support.
"I'll accept. Where is she?"
"I have her in irons below."
"Spiked?"
"No, plain. Plain, ordinary, everyday chains. You know the type."
"Quite well, thank you," was the icy reply.
"Good. Well, that's where she is and that is where you will take charge of her. She looks to be a very good slave as soon as we can get through to her. I believe you will see what I mean when you meet her. And besides that, she is quite nicely put together and I do believe you will have a good time with her. She might be that sort."
"Age? How old is she?"
"Twenty. Good enough."
"Perfect," replied Linda, making a sign of approval. "I'll take her although I would like to see what she looks like first."
"Oh, you can look at her, but if you don't take her, you'll end up in chains beside her."
"What if she's a dog?"
"You dare to doubt my taste, my pretty?"
Linda looked at Greta. "The only taste you have in your mouth is in your ass."
"You ought to know, my dear."
Then they went off to look at the new prisoner.
Jean was a girl of twenty with long flowing blonde hair. She looked rather nice in chains, Linda thought. She had something to her that would be a marvelous thing to get involved with. After all, she was blonde, looked to have a beautiful body to her and there were many things to her that ranked Greta's taste above what Linda might have thought it to be and that was indeed quite nice. There was always something to having a person picked out for you who was nicer than you would have expected.
"See? Linda, you doubted me, but you got a nice one just the same."
"What would you say if I told you that I was surprised?"
"I wouldn't say a word. I already know what you're like because of my rotten taste. Now, this is Jean and she is all yours to do whatever you want to. She is to be your slave and you can train her in whatever way you want to do so. I hope that you can handle her because if you can't, you will ... well, let's just leave it like that as something held over your head. The element of suspense should keep you on your toes. And if not, then there is absolutely nothing to your mind at all."
"Your taste again."
But Jean was waiting for her first lesson and Linda was to give it to her. Greta was waiting to see just what the outcome would be. And the first lesson began.
Linda approached the new girl and asked her a question.
"How do you like it so far?"
"If you don't let me out of here, you motherfucking lezzies, I'm gonna kill every last one of you."
Linda turned to Greta. "I knew there would be a catch."
But Greta only indicated that Jean waited to be tamed and Linda returned to the task.
"Motherfucking lezzies. Would you like to see what a motherfucking lezzie can do?"
"Oh, shut the fuck up!" came the reply. Linda answered that with a hard swat across the face that sent Jean's head back against the stone wall. It took a moment for Jean to recover, but she did and she was again met by the hand of Linda which smashed against her head and sent her reeling back again.
"You're sick! You're perverted! You're not normal!" she screamed at the two of them as they glowered at her.
"You're right, Greta. This is going to be a challenge."
"I thought you loved a challenge."
"I do. I can't wait to get to stomp on this little bitch."
"Then go ahead," said Greta. "Don't let me get in the way at all. Act as if I wasn't here."
Linda walked back over to Jean and grabbed her nipple. Then, with a vice-like grip, she began to squeeze on it until she saw Jean's eyes well up with tears. She began to close her eyes with the pain, but Linda continued to squeeze the nipple until Jean thought that it might go completely flat between the two fingers. And finally she screamed out.
"Stop!"
But Linda did not stop. She had other things she would do to the girl. One outburst might produce another and that was not wanted at all. She wanted a nice quiet and servile slave and this would be at all costs.
She released the nipple and Jean caught her breath again but lost it very quickly when Linda struck again. This time it was with a hand. She grabbed a tit and began to twist it as if she were wringing out a towel. Again, Jean began to wince with pain and the tears flowed again, this time traveling down her cheek and onto the surface of the face. She was in great pain and Linda knew that this was indeed the only way to train the slave.
The tit had turned a bright red as the twisting continued and Jean was no longer breathing for the pain was so intense.
"Breathe," commanded Linda. "Breathe for you might find it helpful. I don't think I'll be stopping this too soon."
Jean gasped for air, but again held her breath. It was too much pain for her to be able to stand and she wanted it to stop. Linda thought she heard the word "bastards" under Jean's breath and Jean was sure she had said it quietly enough to not have it heard.
The tit was wrung even more. It was getting to a point where things were getting too painful to stand and in another moment, Jean passed out.
"Pretty low pain threshold," remarked Linda as she let go of the limp tit.
"I remember a time when the same could be said for you." Linda was silent. "Well, what are you going to do with her now?"
Linda thought for a moment. "It might be a good idea to have her tied up when she comes to. That will show her that there is pain in the strangest places."
"The things you say!" exclaimed Greta with a note of happiness in her voice. "You might be successful after all."
They unchained the girl and brought her to what Greta described as her favorite torture place. It was an anchor that had long fallen out of use because the ship no longer docked. This was a new plaything for torture now and it would be put to good use. Linda would tie Jean up in it.
When Jean awoke, she wasn't entirely sure how she was positioned, but she did know that it hurt her. One leg was tied most unnaturally to the underside of the anchor while the other was in a crouched position on the top of the anchor. Her wrists were stretched to the top of the structure and her entire body was stretched too far for comfort. It was the sort of thing that might have felt good if it wasn't so tight. Jean could hardly open her eyes with the pain she felt.
"What ... what are you ... trying to do?" she asked in halting breaths.
Linda only smiled. "I have to turn you into a good slave. I think that's pretty obvious, don't you?"
Jean was still breathing heavy. "Why?"
Linda thought for a moment. And then she thought for a second moment. And the more she thought about it, the more she realized she didn't have an answer for her question and she wasn't sure if there was anyone around who would be able to. In fact, even Greta might not be able to come up with anything that would do for an answer. If one would tak about the sort of enigma that would get things totally out of hand, this was it. That would be an enormous problem. If she would have been able to come up with the answer, all might be fine. But the problem was that she wasn't able to find it and the more she thought of it, the more it began to bother her and the more it began to bother her, the more she thought about it. She had to sit down.
She sat on a barrel and thought of the problem while Jean, long passed out again, had completely forgotten the question or that, she had even asked of him. And it was indeed a problem. Perhaps she would ask Greta about that. Perhaps not.
And the more she thought about it, the more she wondered just what she was doing and why she was doing it and a glance at the limp body of Jean seemed to set her mind on a strange course that she knew would be her final path for the rest of the voyage. And the voyage would end in the end of Greta.
CHAPTER FIVE
Mutiny was the first and foremost thing on the mind of Linda, but there was more to consider than just a mutiny. One has to plan it in such a way that it would look convincing and not look like it was all one's doing. Greta was not stupid. She may be many things, but stupid was not one of them. She would route out the person who was heading the mutiny and take care of them but good. There would have to be something that she would be able to do to make it seem that it had been someone altogether different who was responsible for the trouble and she had just the person in mind.
Polly was one of those people who had become too loyal for Linda to stand. Polly was the one who was currently in second place with Greta and if one was to get rid of Greta, the way to do it was with Polly. And the way to do that was to get rid of Polly and do that first, but by making it look like Greta was actually the one getting rid of Polly and that wouldn't be too hard to do at all. In fact, it might be easy. It was all a matter of how one did certain things and made them look that way. And one of those ways would be to make it look as if Polly was beginning to get soft with the slaves. That was the one thing that Greta hated.
Polly had taken charge of a slave named Jenny. Jenny was twenty-one years old and had the darkest, most interesting eyes that Linda had ever seen. She was to be the bait to help catch Polly.
But first Polly had to be set up for this and that was to be accomplished in any way possible.
The first way that came to mind had something to do with having a note left in a place where she was sure that it would be seen by Greta. A note wouldn't say too much, but it would do enough to get the idea planted in the mind of Greta and let things go on from there, and if she remembered correct, wasn't Polly supposed to have some sort of rebellious streak in her that Greta was having a hard time getting out of her in London? In fact, Polly was going to escape with Linda and decided at the last minute not to, but Greta had found out anyway and the way that Polly was now probably resulted from that entire thing. That made a lot of sense.
Well, that was the first bit of work to do. And she would write the note out as soon as she would be able to find a way to copy the handwriting.
"Polly, would you like to do me a favor?" she said one night after the rest of the ship had gone to sleep, leaving the two guards for the night, Polly and Linda, alone.
The request was smiled at by Polly who imagined that Linda had something different from the request that she finally hit the woman with, but it was a nice thought.
"My signature? Any reason?"
"A person I used to work for told me that you could tell a person's place of origin from his handwriting. I just began thinking about that now and I thought that it might be a good thing to try and help pass the boredom until dawn."
Polly smiled. Bait taken. She wrote out her name when they got to Linda's cabin and Linda studied it and made a guess at London. Polly smiled and said that it must be because she grew up in London, but actually she was from south of London. Good guess. And it certainly was. But Linda had her handwriting sample and she tucked it safely aside after "tossing" it out the window and into the ocean for Polly's benefit.
That afternoon as Polly and her bunch of slaves were out in training, Linda left Jean tied to a grating and cornered Greta and told her that she had heard Polly say something about a mutiny last night during guard duty, but she wasn't sure about it because Polly was talking in her sleep.
"What do you mean she was talking in her sleep? She was supposed to be on guard duty and wide awake."
"Well, I really don't think you ought to hold it against her because she has been working extra hard ... she has been putting a lot of time into breaking Jenny and I would say that deserves a little extra sleep, wouldn't you?"
"No and that's why I am the captain of this ship and you're not, but I will overlook it this time because it is such a nice day and the breeze has caught my heart fluttering like a sea gull. But you had better warn her next time you see her that I won't tolerate it again."
Linda agreed and left. There were three things in her favor this time and they might all work. Good. Polly was now guilty of sleeping on guard duty, pollible mutiny although Greta didn't acknowledge the mutiny bit at all. Still, that didn't mean that it only fell upon deaf ears. She might have heard it anyway and she probably did. It was grinding away inside her brain as well as the thought of Polly working extra hard on Jenny when Jenny was not hard to break at all. But the next bit of evidence would get that set straight.
The next morning Greta found a note in Polly's handwriting that said that she would meet Jenny that night when everyone had gone to bed and they would be able to carry on their training alone without anyone getting in the way. Greta knew exactly what she meant and she remembered what Linda had said about Polly working extra hard on breaking Jenny and that was when it dawned on Greta that Jenny was not hard to break at all. In fact, she was a pretty good slave. And Greta was aware that Polly and Jenny were getting a bit close because it wasn't too hard to see that from the way they felt about each other. Let it just be said that Linda's evidence would do exactly what was desired by Linda.
Greta vowed to be at their meeting place that night to see them, but when neither of them showed, Greta was convinced they had word of her coming or that the note was a plant, but at any rate, failure to show meant only one thing to her. Guilt.
She went back to her cabin and pondered upon what Linda had said to her about the sleeping on guard duty and the rebellion mentioned in her sleep and now this with Jenny and the thought that she WAS rather rebellious in her younger days, now that the thought came back to her ... and it all added up to one thing. Polly and Jenny were potential menaces to the ship and would have to be dealt with and punished.
Greta won dered if it would be a good idea to let them do something first that would incriminate themselves further, but that had its drawbacks, too. After all, was it worth it to let someone do that because the next time they pulled something it might be the actual mutiny. And then where would they by?
No, get them now. And get them personally. And that was premium. And show them what happened to people who did that sort of thing. And make them an example for anyone who thought they could do it and get away with it.
Greta strode out of the cabin and went directly to where she knew she would find Polly and Jenny. On the way she passed Linda who had just placed Jean in weights hanging them from her nipples and suspending her body slightly off the ground by her wrists.
"I might want you to take over for Polly for a while because I wish to speak with her. Can you join me?"
Linda nodded and left Jean hanging, but not in as much pain as she would have felt a couple of days earlier. She was indeed getting used to it and that was a good sign.
Polly was holding a whip over a handful of slaves who were doing general cleaning work on deck. She looked quite a sight in her knee-length leather boots and a leather G-string as well as the leather pasties that covered her tits. Her leather headdress was firm on her head and she stood with her hands on her hips and her legs astride and the dark hair flowing in the wind. She looked magnificent and Greta would have loved to thing that anyone who looked quite like that ought to be a model slavemaster and not a traitor as she was indeed.
Jenny wore only the boots for she was still a new slave as as all the women wore boots, she only had them. When she would rise in the ranks, she would become able to wear more, but now it was only the boots.
Greta summoned them and told them to come over to her and they both did. Linda, dressed identically to Polly, took the whip and assumed command over the slaves and cracked the whip a couple of times to make her point clear. It struck a different person each time she cracked, it, but that was fine because she did have to keep them on their toes. After all, this was a slave ship.
Polly and Jenny were escorted back to the cabin where Greta confronted them with the idea that she thought they were conspiring against her. Did she have proof? She didn't need proof. She had all the proof she needed and it was based on the observations she had made on them because it was rather obvious that the two of them were conspiring something and she felt that it would be best if they were both punished. It would be the only thing to do and since they were both on the ship long enought to know the rules, weren't they? They had to agree that they were.
What would be done to them? Well, they had to show they had learned their lesson and punishment was the only thing that Greta would even consider. And punished they would be.
Linda watched the slaves under her charge with an iron eye. She made sure that they did exactly what they were told to do and that they did it right. They were to make the place so clean that she would be able to eat off the floor if she had to and they scrubbed the decks and the ship so hard that the ship shined in the afternoon sun.
A scream was heard. It was Greta. It was a call to summon all the various people on ship. And they did mass together quickly because when Greta called, a good slave answered immediately.
They all assembled and looked up to see Polly and Jenny, both nude and both tied to the' rigging. Jenny was tied entirely by ropes that stretched all over her body and pulled taut, but Polly was tied to a mast and her cunt placed in a wooden brace that squeezed it tight and refused to let up on the pain she felt. In addition to that, there was a leather strap running over her face like a muzzle that gave her something to bite into and she did indeed bite into it because of the intensity of the pain that she felt from the brace and the unnaturally pronounced arch in her back that had been placed there by the position she was placed in to tie her hands and legs to the mast. Jenny was extrememly uncomfortable. Polly was in agony.
Below them stood Greta with a whale's harpoon and she had it pointed at their cunts, Polly's especially. She wouldn't hesitate to use it, either, if she would have to, because there was no reason why she shouldn't use it at all.
As she stood there thinking about it, the idea hit to jab a little bit at one of them and she picked out Polly because she was closest to her and because she was, after all, the one person that would make the best example for them to go by. It would be a marvelous chance to make sure that the rest of the world would listen to her whenever she spoke and it would indeed work well because there was a certain necessity to making things work as well as they would be able to as there was a slave ship to be run and that was the only thing to it. Slave ships were not the easiest thing in the world to run and there was nothing they could do about it except try and keep things going as smooth as they had been before.
And that was the reason that Greta jabbed her hard with the harpoon just above the cunt and right where she would feel things the most. The skin around that area was sensitive and it would be the one thing that would make it even more effective. That was the one objective, too. Make things as effective as possible. A Good slave master is effective and that was the only thing that had to be taken into great consideration. Nothing else would matter. Only a good master. Period. Greta had often said that a slave is only as good as the master. She was indeed right.
Greta watched the two slave-women tied to the poles on the masthead, and her whole body tingled with the sexual arousal that pain provided for her. She was nothing without her slave-women, nothing . except a lonely, frightened mass of flesh that couldn't get it on. For a flash of an instant-not long enough to stop what she was doing-Greta wondered how it had all started, and she felt a rush of memories come upon her. What they were, precisely, she could not say. Perhaps a childhood too fierce and too strict; perhaps a young adulthood too filled with pain and disappointment. Wherever the needs had come from, though, they were there, and Greta presented herself to the world as the cruelest dominatrice her victims would ever know.
She took the lance and reached it up to Jenny's body. This time, she thought, she would take care. This time she would not be quite so aggressive and direct about it: this time she would tease the poor young mutineer into agony.
The tip of the lance bit lightly, ever so lightly, into Jenny's foot, into the soft underside of it that tickled and yet agonized the woman. Greta watched carefully the expression of Jenny's face as she let the spearhead run up and down the arch of the foot. It was an expression of delighted pain and ecstatic terror, an expression that made Greta's tactics w Jenny attempted to move her foot out of the way of the invading spear, but she couldn't. Greta followed her everywhere, seemed to chase her foot with the head of the spear. She couldn't let up for an instant. She had to continue the teasing torture just as she had to continue being as cruel as everyone, including herself, expected her to be. If she let up for only a moment, if she gave in to any tender feelings, she would break, and they'd be able to get her. Yes, they'd get her, and that would be the end.
In the instant of that thought, Greta pierced the spearhead lightly into Jenny's flesh.
"Oh, my life!" screamed Jenny. "Oh, please, let me be!"
Greta smiled. That was it: that was what she wanted to hear. Her ears loved the sounds of the beggings for mercy, the pleadings for reprieves. And her mouth loved to spit out the answers:
"Damn you, bitch, take more!" with the inevitable plunging of the spear into the yet-tender flesh of the tied and bound slave-woman. Jenny screamed out again, and Greta bubbled inside with a heavenly sort of perversity, with a longing and a desire for the pain of passion, and the passion of pain, that had grown with every year of her life.
Once again, then, through the thin strip of leather that covered the soles of Jenny's black-booted calves, Greta pressed the tip of her spear. She was aching to jab it into the open vaginal hole of the tied slave, but she suppressed herself. She wanted this one to be perfect.
Slowly and quietly, she speared lightly the soles of Jenny's feet, watching her carefully and making certain that her slave reacted in precisely the manner Greta wished. Her deliberateness was achieving its desired end, because Jenny's face bore all the torment of the torture.
Her mouth contorted in the agony of her spearing. Greta watched it with satisfaction, feeling that the depth of the girl's suffering was not yet sufficient and that she ought, certainly, to increase the quantity-or quality-of the pain in order to reach her own level of satisfaction.
With her fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt of the spear, Greta found herself particularly enjoying the sensations that occurred when she jabbed the point into the slave-wo man's lightly-leathered soles. It was almost as if she could feel the delicately pricking pain in her own fingertips, as if she could, through ah osmosis of sorts, experience the pain of her slave: it was all hers in a refined, more gentle manner. Her own sickness cherished the idea of the pain passing through the wooden length of the spear into her own fingers. In a way, she felt, it renewed her strength, as an electric current renews the strength of its receiver.
She had to laugh aloud, and the laughter came from deep within her, from the terror and the cruelty of her soul. It was a laughter that was burdened with the pain of her own life.
"Jenny!" she spat out, still laughing the blackness from her belly. "Jenny, I want you to keep still! I don't want to see a piece of your body moving, or you'll get this thing right up your damned cunt!"
Jenny's eyes closed: how could she keep still if she was trembling in terror? What more could this woman do to her? How much more could she, herself, bear?
Greta pulled the spear away from Jenny's body and waved it back and forth in the air, as if it were the victory staff of some conquering general. And it was, perhaps, indeed, Greta's victory staff, for without it, she had little, she had nothing. This staff, and her chains, her biting words, her flashing instruments, were the basis of her life, and the only things that truly befriended her. Hers was a life full of things, and without the "things" she had no substance.
Jenny attempted to keep still. Her eyes were closed, her muscles tightened in protection. She knew quite well that what Greta was demanding of her was a near-impossibility, and yet, that was her task: she was, indeed, on this ship in order to endure the impossible, to learn a tolerance of pain and emotional stress that any normal, or even above-average human being, could never imagine.
Greta squinted her eyes and watched carefully, chuckling to herself because she knew, of course, the impossibility of the task she had just assigned. Her smile was barely visible, and yet Jenny saw it-perhaps because she knew it was there, she'd seen it so many times before, so many times the dull and yet singularly sinister smile of the slave-ship captain, delighting in the pain she caused.
As Greta watched, she let one of her hands come off the tightly-held spear, and roam over her vastly round and magnificent breasts, flicking and squeezing the tenderly erect nipples, and then pinching the firmly pliable flesh itself. All those who stood around watched her-it seemed that her fingers had a set routine to follow, a pattern they knew well. The index finger and thumb moved around the flesh, first in circles, and then up and down, in apparent stripes on her breasts. The leather tightly covered her bosom, and squeaked slightly as she rubbed harder, and then harder. They watched as Greta's nipples became more and more erect, and seemed to want to push right through the gleaming black material into the sunshine of the day. The breasts themselves seemed to swell, and yet, in reality, it was Greta's own movement that changed the shape. As she rubbed the mounds, and became sexually aroused, her back arched, and she leaned away from her belly, slightly thing her head backwards. Less clever women than herself, and than her slave-women, too, would have thought that she was looking away from Jenny, now, and absorbed in her own sexual arousal. But no-they knew, and she knew, that her eyes were ever on the bound slave-woman, for it was the knowledge that Jenny had to move that was arousing her so highly, the knowledge that when she did so, she, Greta, might plunge the spearhead up her slave's open vagina.
"Jenny!" she cried suddenly, standing upright once more, and grasping tthe spear in both of her hands. "Jenny! Move!"
Jenny knew this trick, and there was no way out of it. If she contradicted this second order and didn't move, she would get the spearhead up her vaginal canal, and if she obeyed the second, Greta would claim that the first had precedence, and still jab up the spearhead.
There was no way out. Jenny chose to move, because her body couldn't bear tthe physical silence any longer. The tears dropped from her eyes and the sobs wwrenched themselves out of her throat as her head bobbed in the unexpected confrontation with her admission of inability to endure any further torture.
Greta's laughter bubbled up and over, running out into the air of the sea, harmonizing with Jenny's sobs in a cacophonous manner that horrified the bystanders and let them feel fear for their own well-being once more. For a few moments they had, at least, stood watching the torture of another, and felt a small amount of security in their own safety. But now, it was gone. Greta's laughter signaled the end of safety for any of them, and probably for all of them.
The crowd of bystanders moved further away from Greta as she drew back the spear and prepared for Jenny's ultimate torture.
"You moved, Jenny!" Greta said, merely for effect. "You moved, and contradicted my previous order!"
Jenny knew what she was supposed to answer.
"Yes, Captain, but I did obey the second."
"No matter, slave-woman. One order contradicted is one punishment due." Her fingers clutched the handle-end of the spear. "Are you prepared?" Greta always went through this dialogue-the same one each time-when she was about to administer a terrible punishment. It prolongued it a little for her, which was both good and bad. During the few minutes of conversation, preparatory to the administration of the punishment, she could let the whole idea of it seep into her body and arouse her. Once again, just the thought of pain, particularly that administered to the genital or breast area, aroused Greta into a state of high sexual excitement. She had to force herself to keep her mind on the task at hand. Jenny had not answered.
"Answer, slave! Are you prepared?"
The tears had obscured Jenny's words, but she knew she must answer, or the punishment would be worse.
"Yes, Captain, I am prepared."
"Then close your eyes, and receive the kiss of my punishment." It was a metaphor Greta particularly enjoyed using-it made her feel gender about the torturous means she used for "training" her women.
The women watching looked at the veins in Greta's hand bulge as she tightened her grip and then let loose all her fury and all her own pain with the spear that travelled quickly from its held position to the point between Jenny's legs, in the center of the iron clamp where the treasure of her womanhood lay-a treasure that would never see the joys or the passion of gentle heterosexual sex, a treasure that lay dormant except for Greta's misuse of it.
As the spear pierced into her vagina, Jenny screamed and her voice must have carried over the miles of sea water that surrounded them. Her voice was more than heard by the watching women, who felt the pain between their own legs and who stood like statues in their own fear.
"Oh, please!!!" screamed the tortured woman. "Oh let me go!"
Greta laughed. She'd done what she wanted to do, and now maybe this bitch would admit to all the mutinous things that she was planning.
"Well, are you going to tell me now?" Greta laughed.
"Tell you what?" sobbed out Jenny.
"Tell me about the mutiny! Tell me or I swear, I'll kill you, you fucking bitch! Tell me or you'll get it again, right up your lovely cunt!"
Greta's fury was not a thing to be dealt with lightly, and Jenny knew it. She also knew that she was not the instigator of the mutiny, and suddenly, she felt no hesitation about telling Greta who was. After all, why should she take the punishment for something she was not doing? This wasn't a united front-any or all of the girls would turn against one another to preserve themselves: that was the name of the game in this place.
"It's not me!" she screamed suddenly.
Greta held the spear in her hand, and stared at Jenny silently. The glint in her eyes was a glint of anger and of suspicion. Jenny knew Greta wouldn't believe her for a long while yet.
"You lie," Greta spat out suddenly.
"No!" Jenny cried. "I swear to you, Captain, it's not me!" She could see Polly shaking from where she hung on the masthead, but she didn't care. All that mattered to Jenny right now was getting out of the position in which she found herself at the moment. The blood from her vagina was dripping all over the lead vice, and as it dried, pulled her flesh with it and gave her even greater pain.
"Not you?" questioned Greta, pulling back the spear and readying herself for another jab should the occasion call for it. "Then who?" she asked innocently, glancing over at the trembling Polly.
Jenny hesitated. She had thought it would have been easy to save herself, but it was apparently not as easy as she thought. How could she live with the guilt of betraying one of her slave-sisters, even if it would save her own life? Probably, she thought, if she gave away Polly right now, Greta would let her down off the mast and might not punish her again for awhile. She might even be considerate enough to send her to Sick Bay for healing purposes.
But-Jenny knew there was also the chance that Greta would take out more hatred on her even if she did turn in Polly, and then she would be in a conflictwith which she wasn't sure she could live, for she would have betrayed Polly and brought more punishment upon herself, anyway. What the hell was the point of that? Her crotch ached: perhaps her pain would tell her what to do. She didn't know herself, and Greta was waiting.
"Who?" she heard the slave-ship Captain shout again. "Who?"
It was a choice between the Self and the Other. How could she possibly choose, how could she decide who would be saved? It was simple. She had to save herself-there was no other way.
Her head drooped in shame and pain. "Polly," she whispered.
"I can't hear you," spat out Greta quietly. She had heard; she simply wanted Jenny to shout it out, to proclaim to the world and to all the women watching her betrayal of a fellow slave.
Jenny sobbed, because she knew this all. She knew Greta would torment her until she shouted the name out loud, until anyone listened would hear the name that signalled her betrayal.
"Oh no!" she sobbed. "Don't! You heard me, you heard me!" Her tears overpowered her ability to speak, but Greta wouldn't stand for it.
"Louder, I said!" snapped Greta. "I want everyone to hear it."
Everyone had already heard it, of course, and there was no real need for Jenny to repeat it. It was simply for the sake of humiliation that she was being forced to do so. It was, too, a humiliation Jenny felt was well-deserved. She had, after all, betrayed one of her slave-sisters, and could not bear the guilt and shame of her act lightly. Inside she was crying to be beaten for the terrible thing she'd done, and yet outwardly, she maintained a rationality that served as self-protection.
"Say it, Jenny," Greta said smoothly, sternly and bitterly. Her command was irrevocable.
"Polly," repeated Jenny, more loudly this time.
"Louder, Jenny!" screamed Greta.
"Polly! Polly! Polly!" hollered Jenny at the top of her lungs, and then let her head droop down again in painful sorrow for her act. The tears gushed easily and her shame overpowered any other feeling.
Greta's laughter was the only thing she could hear. It echoed into her head and reverberated throughout her entire soul. She'd never forgive herself for what she'd done, and yet, she'd felt there'd been no other choice-it was her own safety or Polly's, and it was up to her to save herself first.
She watched Greta walking over towards the hanging Polly, and saw Polly's eyes, even in the distance, a home for fear and mistrust. She wondered what the woman was feeling now, how she felt being betrayed, and how she felt knowing that she would have to bear the brunt of the torture.
Greta's form was stern and sturdy as she walked towards Polly, spear in her hand, glint in her eye. She knew what she had in mind for this mutineer, but she wouldn't let it out until just the moment before. She wanted to torment Polly a bit first, to tease her into an agony just as great, if not greater, than Jenny's agony had been.
"So, Polly," she smiled sweetly-"sweetly," what a paradoxical word to describe the ultimate bitterness of Greta's heart!-"Jenny tells me that you are the one who has been up to no good, that you are the one who is at the head of the mutiny plot. Is that true, Polly?"
Polly could not answer. Obviously, it was true. Greta knew it, Jenny knew it, everyone knew it. Polly's mind was not on an answer, but on the future punishment she would be given. What would it be? What would Greta concoct for her this time? How much more horror would she have to bear?
"Polly!" shouted Greta. "Answer-now!"
"Yes," spoke Polly, softly and yet clearly. It would be best to do exactly as Greta commanded; it would, probably, save her from some of the coming ordeal.
Greta laughed and then turned aside. She ordered three of the watching slave-women to untie Jenny from her bondage-place and let her down and then bring her to Sick Bay. Greta was through with her for awhile, and didn't particularly want her around.
Greta's business, now, was with Polly. It was she whom she had to deal with now, she from whom she had to save her own ship. If this woman was capable of beginning a mutinous plot, she might be capable of more. Greta would simply have to teach her a lesson-and one that she wouldn't lightly forget.
"Untie her!" commanded Greta, turning to two more of the watching slave-women. "Untie her and bring her to me."
The slaves did as they were told-did they have any choice? and at any rate, they were glad to see Polly coming down-and brought the blonde beauty to Greta's outstretched and eagerly sadistic hands.
Greta just stood there smiling, grinning in a way that allowed all of the cruelty in her heart to pass out through her face. Simply by looking at her, by watching the slight movements of her eyes and mouth, the twitchings of her face, one would be able to understand the fierceness within her. Her plan was secure now: she knew exactly what she would do with Polly. Damn the cunt! she'd teach her who went fooling around with the ship without permission! She'd teach her who got away with mutinous plans on her slave-ship! The lesson she'd teach Polly was to be a lesson for all the slaves-they would see what would happen to young ladies who did not obey, or who did not like, the Captain of the ship.
She ordered one of the mates to bring the cannon up from th. [text cuts off at this point in the original pocketbook]
She took the slave-woman by the hands and drew her over to the railing of the ship. Polly very carefully followed Greta's movements, not wanting to do anything that might make her punishment worse. And yet, she wondered, could she possibly do so? She really felt that this punishment was to be the ultimate, and that she would not escape from it alive. Her hands shook as Greta took them in her own and threw her harshly against the railing, maintaining her silence all the while. The cannon approached, wheeled in by two of the slave-women. It was an antiquated, homemade affair, but certainly would be adequate for Greta's intentions. The cannon-barrel itself was a threatening, black iron tube, and Greta patted it sensuously.
"Like this?" she asked Polly.
Polly just stared at her.
"Answer!" commanded the Captain.
"Yes," Polly said quietly. "Yes, I like it fine."
"Get down on it!" Greta continued, grabbing the girl's hand and forcing her down onto the cannon. With hands that were fierce and trembling with passion, Greta smashed Polly down onto the cannon-seat and quickly tied a heavy rope around her waist, and then breasts and neck. She hooked it into the cannon-barrel itself and then secured Polly's arms behind her back so that the woman was in a totally servile and immovable position. With the cannon-barrel smashed up against her crotch, Polly-felt the last moments of her life passing. So this is what it was, she screamed inwardly, keeping the tears inside, so this is what it has all meant? I've come and gone so fast on this earth, and all for nothing-all for this bitch who plays with others' lives as if each of us were her toys.
The skin of her thighs rubbed against the hard iron of the cannon, and she could not control herself any longer. Greta lit a match and touched it to the hole in the cannon-barrel. And then, just as the flame was about to catch, Greta ripped the long match away.
"To your stations!" she screamed excitedly, running from Polly and leaving the woman tied uncomfortably to the torture device. "Everyone ready!"
As the women ran to their stations, they saw approaching them the cause of Greta's excitement: they saw, on the horizon, the approaching steamer that would be Greta's next victim..
CHAPTER SIX
Linda watched the approaching ship with a fascination that she had not felt for any of Greta's doings on the slave-ship up to this point. She knew that it was a ship from the mother country, and she wondered what Greta would do to get a victim from this one. Who would it be? Someone like herself? An older woman, perhaps? Or someone young and innocent who would give way to all of Greta's tortures because she wouldn't know any better?
Oh, Lord, how much she wanted to revenge that woman sometimes! The anger within her own soul was still something that was difficult to accept, and yet, she knew it was there. She knew, too, that if given the chance, she might be as vicious as Greta was. The only difference would be that she, Linda, would not derive quite as much pleasure from it. Although she was a masochist at heart, there was a limit to her pain allowance; her sadistic energies, too, always reached a boundary, beyond which she could not pass.
Her mind wandered back to the ship, back to the innocents who did not know the sort of torture with which they were about to collide. One of them, Linda knew, would be near her soon; one of them would become Greta's new slave, Greta's new masterpiece, Greta's plaything for torture.
The ocean was calm and Linda kept her eyes on the approaching vessel. She had never been through an actual "capture" with Greta before, and it would be an interesting sort of experience, to be sure. She wondered exactly how Greta would go about this one, how she would get another unknowing young girl to submit to the tortures of her ship.
But of course she knew that it was not a question of "submission," for where Greta was concerned, there was little choice involved, little concern with the other person's will. She, who had such a strong will, could not even get out of the trap Greta had laid for her. She had been as much a captive as any weaker woman. Greta simply had that power.
She looked around at the women standing at their "stations" all around the deck of the ship, and it frightened her. Suddenly, it seemed such a vicious and horrifying way to life, and she was part of it all. That, she felt, was the most horrifying thing.
Perhaps she ought to give up her plans for escape-they were so futile, after all-and join in earnest with the women who planned to mutiny. With a well-laid plan, they just might be able to carry through the task. With enough forethought and cleverness, they might be able to overthrow the power of the sick and devastating Captain, and force her into their submission.
She had little time to think about it further, because Greta was suddenly standing at her side.
"So," she spat out at Linda, "we're going to get another new one now."
"Yes, so it seems," answered Linda snidely. "And you always get what you want, don't you?"
"Always." Greta's words were sharp and precise. She knew what she wanted from Linda now, and she would get it. The question remained of how to approach the matter, how to subtly suggest to Linda that she would be the mistress in charge of torturing the new slave into submission.
"Linda, you almost like it here, sometimes, don't you?"
Linda only smiled. Greta knew her secret-that the torture was sometimes a pleasure to her-and there was obviously no need to hide it.
"You do, don't you cunt?" snapped Greta.
"I do, bitch," answered Linda boldly.
"Watch your language," bristled Greta in reply.
"Don't bother with that cruel facade, Greta, we're all alone, and if it came to a match between mere physical strength, you know I'd win, hands down."
"It's never a purely physical match, lovely Linda. I have all the power in my hands, and you know it."
"Perhaps for a while you do."
"What do you mean by that?" asked Greta suspiciously.
"Greta, you know precisely what I mean, so don't bother to ask."
"Listen, Linda, I don't care about that right now. What I care about is that approaching ship, and what's going to happen to the lucky girl who gets to be my next victim."
"Oh?" said Linda lazily. "What about the lucky little charmer?"
"I want you to train her."
It came as a surprise to Linda, but she accepted it coolly, testing out Greta further.
"What is it exactly that you want me to do to her?" she asked.
"Why, anything you want, my dear, anything you want."
"How about letting her go?" Linda asked, almost laughing.
"Very funny, bitch," snapped Greta. "But you don't seem to take me seriously. I mean it, Linda, I want you to take charge of this new girl."
"Why?" Linda asked simply.
"I want to watch you beat the living daylights out of someone. I know it's in you. and I want to prove it to myself."
"All right, Greta," Linda answered calmly. "I'll do it. But I won't be doing it for you, that's for certain. I'll be doing it to test myself out, to see how much I can give without flinching. It will be sort of fun, I suppose-rather a game."
"Good, that's more like it," said Greta smugly. "I knew you'd come around to it."
"You know everything, don't you, Greta?" Linda asked provokingly.
"Just about, baby, just about," retorted Greta, reaching out menacingly for one of Linda's beautiful tits.
She squeezed hard.
Linda didn't flinch, but only looked the other way. Greta, naturally, expected such behavior, and didn't think anything of it, laughing instead of becoming angry.
"Listen, now," she continued. "I want you to go below the decks while we meet this ship. Later, I'll bring the girl to you for inspection and treatment."
"Why?" asked Linda curiously. "Why don't you want me to watch you capture her?"
"Do what I say, bitch, or you won't get another fucking thing from me!"
"Maybe that would be best, Greta, maybe that would be best."
"I doubt it."
Linda just laughed, quickly and harshly, and began walking towards the porthole and staircase that led to the area below the deck of the ship. She couldn't figure out why, particularly, Greta wanted to keep her away from the scene of the piracy. The only thing she could vaguely come up with was the fact that she was most likely to escape from Greta's ship, and if she had knowledge of how the woman went about her piracies, she, Linda, would be capable of reporting Greta to the authorities.
And yet, that didn't seem real enough. There must be something else....
Her big and beautiful body moved towards the lower decks and she let her hands rub over her mountainous tits. When she was alone, during times like these, it was easy to wonder about what it would have been like to have a different kind of life-a home, perhaps, with a loving husband and children-the whole "civilized" scene of life.
Certainly she was capable of it, or had been, at some previous time. Now? Now she was sometimes a monster to herself, an intellectual woman who had "gone bad" and let her emotionally sado-masochistic tendencies get the best of her. She would have been able to control them, had she tried at all. She would have been able to live a "normal" life and be loved by a man.
What could her life possibly hold for her now? What did the future promise her? Her mind went blank. The only thing of which Linda could force an awareness was the present-the realities that surrounded her: those realities consisted of her own, strong body, alive with feeling and passion, and the many instruments and devices of torture that hung all around her.
What would she do to the young girl who would be so irrationally taken into custody by the cruel Greta? She settled back against a wooden plank, and let her mind go. The fantasies that floated in were not sado-masochistic, but loving, and she could not force them out.
Let them in, she urged her mind, let them in.
She saw a beautiful young woman walking to her through the darkness of the ship, bound in ropes and chains by the cruel gang of women-pirates and slaves. The young woman was all hers, all Linda's, and she could do with her as she pleased.
She took her into the back room that had been granted to her for use in the "training" of the young woman. Once inside, she closed the door carefully, and then quietly urged the young woman towards the bed. She did not wish to whip or beat this beautiful girl, she merely wished to make love with her.
"Child," she spoke softly, "what is your name?"
"Miranda," the girl answered, and it was no surprise to Linda that even in her fantasy, she used the name of the child to whom she'd been governess, the child of whom she'd been so fond.
"Lie down, dear," said the fantasizing woman. "Lie down and see how comfortable I will make you."
The lovely young woman lay down on the thin mattress, and tried to manipulate her ankles and hands out of the shackles that had been placed on them.
"Let me do that," whispered Linda. She would have to be careful if she didn't want the others to become suspicious.
She undid the materials of bondage and removed them from Miranda's flesh.
"There," she said softly, "does that feel any better?"
"Oh, much," said Miranda, rubbing her wrists together.
In her fantasy, Linda leaned over the beautiful young woman and .began to kiss her soft face flesh; but as she did so, reality interrupted-apparently she'd been daydreaming longer than she'd realized.
"Are you ready?" asked Greta harshly, with a smile.
"Ready?" questioned Linda.
"We've got the girl. I think you'll like her. No, I know you'll like her. Linda, she's something special. You will definitely enjoy this little game."
Greta stood back so that Linda could see through the opening of the door in the lower decks. She could barely make out the form of the young woman, brought in bondage by three of the slave-women. And yet, there was something familiar ... something strangely-
"Miranda!" she gasped, feeling the palpitations of her heart pounding against her chest.
"So!" Greta laughed heartily. "You recognize your pet!"
"Oh, no, Greta...." moaned Linda quietly.
"Yes, exactly, Linda!"
"I can't do it! Oh, Miranda!" she sobbed.
"Shut up, Linda," snapped Greta, smacking the blonde woman across her breasts. "Shut up or I'll get worse than you ever thought possible!"
Linda looked up, slowly, at the young woman who stood before her. It was, without a doubt in the world, Miranda, her most favorite pet, her precious student, her fantasy-lover.
Greta let Linda take in the whole scene, let her react-and watched her. reactions. It was important that Linda become angry at Miranda in just the right way; otherwise, the sadistic tendencies would remain untouched and Miranda would never be able to go through her "training" with her former governess.
"Aren't you proud of Miranda, Linda? She's come so far up in the world since you last tutored her."
Greta had touched the right nerve. "Oh, Miranda," said Linda, holding back the tears. "How could you do it?"
Miranda didn't answer.
"Answer your teacher, bitch!" shouted Greta, kicking the young girl in the leg.
"I didn't have a choice," said Miranda.
But Linda didn't hear her. She couldn't get over the feeling of disappointment-disappointment that the young girl was not as strong as she, Linda, had thought, disappointment that she had not, as she'd thought, found someone with a will so strong that she would have been, somehow, able to resist Greta. And, too, she thought, she'd found someone who was gentle, who wouldn't urge the sadistic tendencies out of her. Apparently, it was not so, for anyone who gave in to Greta had to, on some level, be willing to submit to torture. Greta knew just how to pick them.
And so, the anger grew in her. All her fantasies had been destroyed, all her hopes for a loving relationship. It was almost obscene to see this young woman standing before her; it made her sick to her stomach.
It made her want to rip the girl to shreds, to destroy her as she felt destroyed, to punish her for the destruction of fantasies.
Greta watched the anger grow, and was pleased. She knew that any moment now, Linda would be ready. She wanted to get her at full steam: this young girl would have to be trained well.
Linda's arm jumped out suddenly, attempting to scratch Miranda's face.
"No!" snapped Greta, pushing Linda back. "Not like that."
She took Linda aside and pointed out a long row of devices she might use for the new torture of Miranda. "You see," said Greta, "we must do it carefully and never so directly as you were about to do."
"I have you for this, Greta," said Linda bluntly. "I know what I'm feeling now, and I hate you for it."
"Good," answered Greta, laughing. "Then you'll get her twice as badly."
Linda fingered a small hand whip that had appealed to her taste and fancy. It had a short wooden handle with lead-tipped leather strings attached. She could imagine it smacking against Miranda's white, smooth bottom, and as she imagined it, her cunt ached with desire.
"You can take her into the back room," smiled Greta, "for a-while, at least, until I decide I want to watch."
"You would get a thrill out of that, wouldn't you, Greta?" Linda remarked spitefully.
"Wouldn't you, dear?" Greta returned.
Linda didn't answer. She wasn't in the right mood for Greta's remarks. All she wanted to do right now was get her hands on Miranda and whip her little ass to shreds. She wanted to have her in that back room and destroy her mind with torture.
She came out into the main area with Greta by her side and the small powerful whip in her hand.
Miranda caught sight of it and shrieked.
"Shut up, child!" shouted Greta. "Or you'll get worse, and that's a certainty. If you don't behave yourself, you're going to get trained by me as well as by Linda here, and you won't like that a bit."
Miranda began whimpering and Linda reached out for her arm, dragging the girl towards her. "You little bitch!" she said. "How could you do this to me?"
"I didn't want to, Linda, I didn't want to!" screamed Miranda.
Smack! The whip hit her right across her sobbing face, and as blood trickled out of her wound in her lips, the sobs came on more strongly, and Linda grew even more infuriated.
"Shut your mouth!" she spat out at her former student. "Shut up your fucking mouth or you'll get double the punishment!"
Miranda just stared at her in horror. She could not understand the reality of what was going on-she could not understand it at all. And what was more, she didn't want to; it was beyond her comprehension-this whole world.
She accompanied Linda into the back room, and soon, from the outside, the slave-woman and their Captain could hear the screams and leather-through-air sounds of torture filling the air.
Inside, Linda was enjoying herself to the hilt.
"You destroyed my belief in you!" she shouted, bringing the small whip down on Miranda's white ass, and then on her full, round breasts.
"No, no, Linda!" shouted Miranda, trying to dodge the older woman's blows, but being totally unsuccessful, since Linda simply followed her everywhere she went.
After Miranda was duly beaten, Linda decided she wanted some help. She wanted to introduce this woman to some of the true joys of Greta's ship.
Linda walked to the door of the small cabin and looked out. "Greta!" she called.
Greta came to her, responding readily. "What is it?"
"I want some help," said Linda. "I want to give this one part of the routine you gave me."
Greta smiled in approval and triumph.
She opened the door to another room and led Linda and the captive in.
There, before Linda's eyes, was one f the too-familiar torture devices, one she'd now enjoy using on her once-favorite student, Miranda. It was a wooden chopping block, equipped with the special added attraction of spikes arrayed all over the top.
Miranda broke from her captors and attempted to get away, but she could not. As two of the women grabbed her, she surrendered easily to their overbearing strength.
"So easily," murmured Linda, "so easily."
She instructed the slave-women to bring Miranda to the chopping block and tie her there. Then, with Greta's help, she adored Miranda with additional ropes, chains, and a pair of spike-bearing earrings that dangled down onto her full breasts and pierced through the white skin.
The shrieks and cries for mercy were delightful to Linda's ears and only filled her with a sadistic pleasure she had never yet experienced. It would be a pleasure to see this girl bleed and scream, to watch her cry out for mercy, and then surrender to Linda's will.
Greta, too, was pleased with the action. She was pleased because finally, her favorite slave was doing her bidding, and enjoying it. She felt now that she had a side-kick, a first mate who would defend her in all her actions, who would speak for her in front of the other slave-women.
Linda was behaving perfectly, after all. Greta watched her as she beat the young woman mercilessly with the small whip, and watched the obscene delight in her face as Miranda cried out for pity and mercy. When she did, Linda only screamed and hit her harder, laughing all the while.
"You stupid girl!" she laughed out, "betraying yourself to the Captain of this ship! Didn't you have any more self-respect than that?"
Greta didn't even mind the nasty comments about herself, because she felt so certain about Linda's loyalty now. She was sure that all would be well, that the mutiny would be stilled, that she would reign, unchallenged, once again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The air was thick with the mood of torture and sex.
Linda felt the atmosphere closing in around her, twisting her thoughts and dissolving her free will. The sight of Miranda's deliciously-rounded buttocks, stretched taut in the position which the girl had been forced to maintain-the reddish blue welts from the crisscrossing of the lash-the sweet, melon-shaped breasts bobbing so periously close to the spoked chopping-block top-all of these things whirled through her brain and seemed to heighten her senses.
Her senses and her need to inflict punishment.
Gone now, were any and all thoughts about reality or the future. Gone were the fears from Linda's mind about what might be happening to her. All that was left was pure, unmitigated lust. The need to hurt ... the need to dominate ... the need for rough, hard sex.
Suddenly, Miranda's helpless form seemed to become the center of the world. Linda's eyes opened wider-lust-filled, glazed-over circles that zeroed in on the luscious captive.
Tied there ... helpless ... forced into a half-bending position, Miranda's bare bottom provided a lovely and tantalizing frame for her cunt. From the position in which she now stood, holding the whip, Linda could make out the dark thatch of silky hair ... partially and temptingly hidden from full view by Miranda's creamy white thighs.
Linda's eyes narrowed, as though by focusing more intensely, it would be possible to part the sweet, pink lips ... to expose that sweet slit by mere strength of will.
Miranda shivered and her body rippled in pain. Tiny droplets of perspiration slithered down her satin flesh and she moaned softly.
Linda felt her heartbeat quicken. The girl's slight movement had been just enough to provide a split-seoncd's view of her lightly-veiled pussy.
And now, Linda knew what she wanted to do ... what she had to do.
For a moment, she allowed herself the sweet torture of hesitation. Her breath seemed to whistle through clenched teeth as she stood there, visualizing what she was going to do to this girl ... how she was going to repay that little bitch for having betrayed her and disappointed her so unforgivably.
Linda shivered as she felt the moistness growing between her own thighs. Inside the opening of her body she felt her clitoris, tight and hard as a miniature prick. She felt the throbbing of her desire there-pounding like a heartbeat.
Her breasts rose and fell with the heaviness of her breathing. The nipples stood erect and taut. They tingled, as if in anticipation of the glorious activity to come.
And then, Linda couldn't bear the waiting any longer, couldn't stand to delay her pleasure for even one more moment.
"Somebody take this over for me." She held the whip up high over her head.
The voice she heard was barely recognizable as her own. In it, there rippled a harshness, a cruelty that momentarily surprised even Linda, herself. She could not allow herself to look at Miranda's face for certainly, she knew, the nature of her intentions must have been clear to the helpless girl.
As though reading Linda's mind, Miranda began to whimper ... a soft, futile sound ... but loud enough to make itself heard throughout the audience that watched with eager eyes.
It was Greta who took the whip from Linda's outstretched hand. A smirk of satisfaction twisted her lips into a cruel smile as she watched her favorite protigee, overcome by sadistic lust.
This was going to be good, Greta thought. More than good. This was going to be magnificent. Well worth the waiting for. She'd always known Linda could do it ... always known that, given the right provocation Linda could evolve into an expert in the field of domination and humiliation.
She did not ask Linda how she intended to use Miranda's quivering, helpless body. It was not necessary. Just one look at Linda was enough to tell the most callous observer that Linda was possessed now ... well in hand ... caught in the grips of a demon whose power was infinate.
Greta watched, pleasure-filled, as Linda's face contorted into an even tighter mask of hatred and lust. The eyes were narrow slits of fire. The mouth was a scarlet gash of cruelty. The body was ... heaven!
"Use the whip!"
The sound of Linda's voice rang through the air, loud and true. Gone were the last traces of hesitation or conflict. Only the tension of strong desire remained ... music to Greta's ears.
Greta was more than glad to comply with Linda's wishes. Happily, she walked around to Miranda's left side and feasted her own eyes on the sight of the girl's slashed buttocks. Lovingly, Greta drew the leather thongs across the bruised, abused flesh, thrilling to the sight of Miranda's trembling response.
"Hot leather always makes them dance," Greta snarled. And with that, she brought the whip high above her head and arced her arm downward, full-force.
Miranda was propelled from a state of half-conscious whining into full voice. She screamed as though her very heart were being torn out. Her eyes bugged wide and her throat contorted with pain, as the cruel leather cut into her bare skin and brought bright little droplets of blood to the surface.
"Beautiful, beautiful," Greta murmured, half-dazed by the sudden rush of her own, increasing desire.
She paused with the lashed raised anew, suddenly transfixed by the lovely sight before her. The blood running down Miranda's thighs ... trickling side by side with the sweat of pain ... it was almost more than Greta could bear. She wanted to rip into this girl ... wanted to beat the living shit out of her wanted to demolish this exquisite body with her nails and teeth ... wanted to fuck the girl into madness....
But no-to let Linda do this was an even greater pleasure. Greta told herself that she must not give in to her desires, no matter how strong. Better to have the supreme victory of watching Linda blossom into an exquisite mistress of torture. For wasn't it she, Greta, who, in fact, would experience the only real triumph in this situation? Wasn't it Greta who had masterminded this entire circumstance. And wasn't Linda, in fact, merely an instrument of Greta's will?
That was as it should be. Linda was Greta's slave. And, by extension, Miranda was also Greta's slave. Greta owned them all. Exactly as it should be!
The sound of hurrying footsteps interrupted Greta from her lust-filled reverie. A smile crossed her face as she turned to the right to see Linda, approaching Miranda.
Linda's heart was beating as though it meant to shatter every one of her ribs. Her knuckles were white from the strain as she strongly clutched the huge dildo in her hand.
The device was an enormous prick ... carved of the smoothest ebony wood. Its dimensions far outsized any phallus that had ever been. The head was huge and thick and mean-looking. The perfect instrument of torture.
Out of the corner of her eye, Miranda had caught a glimpse of her ex-teacher passing by, with that horrible object in her clutches. Despite the weakness she felt from the torture her poor body had already endured, the girl screamed out in terror.
"No, please ... don't use that on me...."
Miranda's words were quickly interrupted as Greta grabbed her by the hair and smacked her sharply across both cheeks. Again and again Greta slapped the poor, sobbing girl.
"Silence!" Greta commanded. "You will bear your punishment without pleading for mercy ... or else what you'll get will be far worse from me. Is that understood!"
Miranda looked as though she were about to faint. The last of the color seemed to drain from her cheeks, running as though it were liquid and leaving the flesh in its wake pale and pasty-looking.
"I'll attend to this," Linda snapped.
Greta felt her temper rising.,. . but she chose to control it. No sense in asserting her dominance over Linda at this very moment, she decided. That would only serve to interrupt Linda's momentum. Later, if necessary, Linda could be made to see who was in charge here ... the only one who was boss.
"Untie her ankles!" Linda growled, shivering with. desire. "I want her spread wide ... I want her cunt "laid bare, so I can split it wide open!"
Greta nodded, indicating that the girls closet to torturer and victim should obey Linda's command.
They materialized from the sidelines. As if out of nowhere, hands and fingers appeared ... undoing the bonds around Miranda's slender ankles-only to refasten them to rings in the floor with other cords.
Miranda was whimpering pitifully-but she might as well have not been there at all. Nobody was listening to her. All eyes and full attention was fized on the sight of her lovely buttocks and now, on the pink, moist slit that was coming into full view as the girl's legs were forced as far apart as they would go.
"Please, I can't stand it!" Miranda screamed, feeling as though her thighs were going to be separated from her torso.
Greta brought the lash down expertly, catching Miranda squarely across the vagina The cruel leather whip bit into the sensitive flesh, wrenching a scream of pure agony out of the girl's dry, constricted throat.
Miranda fainted.
"A bucket of sea water will take care of this little bitch!" It was Linda's merciless voice that filled the air.
Again, Greta nodded her assent.
Moments later, several female bodies hurried back into the room. Slender fingers hoisted heavy buckets filled with water.
The liquid made a loud, splashing sound as it hit Miranda directly in the face. Some of the water ran down over her shoulders, dripping from the tips of her pink nipples and making her breasts shine as though they'd been enisled out of the finest marble.
For a moment, the girl remained still, lifeless-looking. Then, as though waking from a dream, her eyelashes fluttered and she stared incredulously around the room.
In a flash the reality of her plight returned to her and her expression ch nged. Her face twisted with renewed terror and her lips trembled on the edge of a scream.
"My legs!" she yelled, straining at the bonds that held her wide apart.
Two quick flicks of Greta's trained whipping arm brought fresh stripes to the inside of each of Miranda's thighs. "Any more complaints?" the woman said, glaring at her panic-stricken victim.
Miranda did not answer. She gulped and shivered.. Her breasts swayed from side to side with her heavy, labored breathing.
Satisfied that her victim was properly intimidated, Greta tossed away her whip and looked to Linda for the next move.
Linda stood glued to a spot behind Miranda's trussed form. With her right hand she caressed the smooth, enormous wooden phallus while her eyes gleamed with desire at the sight of the girl's gaping pussy lips. Linda's tongue flicked out from between her teeth and slithered around to moisten her own mouth. The little spear of flesh continued to move as though it were eager to reach a goal.
And, indeed it was. For a moment later, Linda rushed forward, dropped to her knees and thrust her face against Miranda's bleeding cunt.
Miranda groaned ... a combination of pain and shock. Linda's oral caresses were rubbing over torn and bleeding flesh. And yet, the pressure of a wet tongue against her exposed clitoris was not without its exciting side-affects.
Neither Linda's lovemaking nor her mood was tender. In her mind, she told herself over and over that she was possessing this little bitch ... dominating her completely and paying her back for having failed. She was not interested in giving Miranda pleasure for its own sake. Miranda's pleasure was merely evidence of Linda's victory. By the time she was finished, Miranda would be begging for more. And, of course, she would be denied.
She wanted to get Miranda hot, though. Wanted to see that ass and cunt wiggle with excitement. She was going to have her way with this girl-to the hilt. She was going to make Miranda's pussy cream with desire, Linda told herself, as she thrust her tongue even further into the tight, slippery little love-tube.
And still, despite her hatred and her anger, Linda had to admit to herself that this felt good-better than ever before. It was delightful to have Miranda captive before her like this-with her little snatch spread wide and available.
Caught up in the increasing tempo of her own desire, Linda put the dildo down for the time being and concentrating on the enticing task of tonguing Miranda's genital area. Now, she allowed her mouth to roam more freely.
She moved her lips up between the crack of Miranda's welted, widespread asscheeks until the tight little puckered hole was moistened with saliva.
Miranda trembled as she felt her taut asshole suddenly invaded by the tip of Linda's artful tongue. She wiggled her hips and groaned slightly. Her breathing became heavier.
Linda dug her fingernails deeeply into the soft bottom-flesh of Miranda's rump and spread the girl's asscheeks even further apart, opening the little brown hole at the same time. Now, Linda was able to work her tongue inside Miranda's anus until it could go no further.
"Fingerfuck the bitch!" someone called out from the sea of eager faces. "Fist her good and proper! Punch her twat until it splits!"
The sound of sex combined with the closeness of Miranda's yielding body was more than Linda could resist. Lost in the whirling currents of her own desire, she allowed herself to be carried aloft on this wild tide of sex. Growling with lust, she slid her hand in between Miranda's outspread thighs and found the opening of the girl's cunt.
Miranda gasped as Linda's middle finger slid up into the moist channel and disappeared from sight. Inside, she felt Linda's fingernail scratching the delicate flesh but there was no denying the excitement that accompanied the motion.
And then, suddenly, Linda's knuckles were bruising the outer lips of Miranda's cunt. With abrupt horror, Miranda realized what was happening.,.. and what was about to happen. Linda was balling her fingers into a fist!
The girl opened her mouth to scream again because the agony was so severe.,. . but no sound would come. In the meantime, Linda had curled her fingers tightly into her palm and was forcing her fist into Miranda's tight pussy.
The opening widened slowly, reluctantly. Linda shoved forward with all her might. Miranda howled.
And suddenly, Linda's hand was buried inside the gaping and bleeding hole.
A murmur went up around the room as the spectators realized what had happened. And then, the sound of excitement grew as the blood began to trickle out of the torn opening to Miranda's body.
Linda pulled out her blood-covered fingers and reached for the huge dildo. In a second, she had the enormous tool positioned at the opening of Miranda's cunt.
Miranda made a low, gurgling sound as the wooden shaft started to enter her. "Please, Linda ... darling...." she groaned. "Please don't do this ... I-love-you...."
Linda stopped, with the dildo's head only half buried in the girl's gaping pussy hole.
"Continue!" Greta shouted breathily.
But Linda couldn't move. Miranda's words had immobilized her.
"I've-I've always loved you," Miranda wailed, as though she knew the effect she was having on her torturer.
Linda slid the dildo head from the girl's hole and reached forward to unbuckle the straps from around Miranda's ankles.
"Don't you dare!" Greta screamed, frightened now that the spell was about to be broken .,. . that she was going to lose her hold on Linda's soul.
"Don't touch her!" Linda screamed as Greta started to move closer in their direction. "Don't lay a hand on her or.,. . or I'll kill you!"
Greta moved her head only slightly. Before Linda knew what had happened she was being held prisoner by four women.
"We'll see who gives the orders around here," Greta snarled. "Bring her up to the top, girls."
The beating had left her unconscious. When Linda awakened, she was tied to the mast. Her head was encased by a leather hat that tied under the chin and was attached to a strong, metal hook so that she could not look downward. Her nipples were captured by strong cords and pulled taut. Between her legs, a thick hemp rope ran horizontal, cutting into her pussy. The pain was more than she could bear, almost, and she was forced to look directly into the glaring sun.
She did not know if the other girls were going to return and beat her some more. She had heard Greta promise that those girls who whipped her would be rewarded and those who refused would be punished beyond their wildest dreams.
Her body felt as though it had been ripped into a thousand pieces.
Her cunt felt as though it had been split open when Greta shoved that ebony dildo inside of it ... and twisted until Linda screamed in agony.
Yes, they would probably return to beat her some more, Linda realized in her half-conscious state. They would probably do all kinds of horrible things to her ... kill her even, perhaps.
But at least, while they were torturing her, they would be leaving Miranda alone.
Miranda ... loved her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Linda did not know how long she had been tied in that painful position on deck. The hours had blended into one another. The salt spray from the sea and the unbearably hot, burning, blinding sun had made time meaningless.
Her body felt as though it were being burned to a crisp from the strong rays. The pain had long since diminished to a dull, all-over ache. Her limbs felt numb. Her eyes were swollen and bleary.
And slowly, steadily, the only feeling that Linda was aware of was hatred ... hatred for Greta and everything she stood for.
That hatred grew like a squall over the horizon. It began slowly as a vague resentment and displeasure. As the hours passed and the sun continued to burn and sting her torture-wracked body, the resentment turned to anger.
Linda felt it blossoming inside of her. It filled her and engulfed her until it seemed to be a physical sensation that she was experiencing.
Despite the pain and exhaustion in her body, her spirit was very much alive ... burning every bit as brightly and as strongly as the sun overhead. That spirit was rallying it's forces ... gathering its energies and now, finally, screaming in silence for revenge.
Linda tried to move, to adjust herself to a more comfortable or tolerable position within her bonds, but that was impossible. Greta had seen to it that she was unable to move, unable to find even a moment's respite from the tortuous immobility that the ropes provided.
That bitch ... that insufferable, dyke bitch. The words and the feelings rolled over and over inside her head, like the swelling and ebbing of waves beyond the bow. She would fix Greta but good, Linda vowed inwardly. Somehow, some day, Linda would make sure that Greta got what she deserved. Something slow and excruciating.
Her mind played with possible ways of getting back at the woman she hated so. Linda allowed her imagination its total freedom ... for she knew that this very anger which she felt so strongly inside of her was her key to survival. As long as her spirit rebelled, she would endure and survive.
Revbelled ... ah, there it was. The key. The answer. Mutiny was the way it would be done. And somehow, Greta herself would be the cause of her own downfall.
Despite the circumstances in which she was now restrained, Linda felt a smile curl around the edges of her lips and bring the gleam back to her eyes. Hope. That was what she was feeling. Hope and confidence that very shortly, she would be able to give Greta enough rope so that the woman could hang herself.
It shouldn't be so difficult, after all, Linda promised herself. She knew Greta well. Very well, in fact. She was intimately familiar with the madness of which Greta was capable. She hated Greta with a passion. Why couldn't there be a way to use that hate to her own best advantage, for a change. That very sadism that Greta had so proudly brought out in her must be harnessed and used against the woman who inspired it.
But how?
Linda thought and rethought, weighing various possibilities in her mind. Mutiny was definitely her goal ... but how to achieve it successfully....
The sharp clatter of high-heel boots clicking across the wooden deck snapped Linda out of her reverie and back to the moment with sobering speed.
She could not turn her head because of the mask which held it taut in a front-facing position.
But she didn't have to.
She knew who was approaching her.
There was only one person aboard this ship who walked with such arrogance ... whose footsteps seemed to make the very deck of the ship tremble and reverberate with fear.
Greta.
The enemy....
"So, my little upstart...." the voice, unmistakably Greta's, was thick with smugness and cruelty, "have you had enough punishment yet? Have you decided it is better to obey than to resist your mistress?"
Just the sound of the woman's voice ... the arrogance in her tone was. enough to make Linda tremble with rage. Inside herself, the torture and the beatings and the humiliation were mild compared with the need she had to overtake this woman and make her pay for her crimes ... against the human body and the human soul.
And suddenly, the answer was there ... clear as daylight in Linda's mind's eye. She knew how she was goin to do it. She knew how she was going to bring about Greta's downfall. She knew how she was going to use Greta, herself, to accomplish mutiny....
The tears that filled Linda's eyes were tears of anger. Still, she allowed them to flow freely, knowing that they would have their desired effect.
"So, you are crying ... repentence? Is that what I see flowing from those lovely eyes?" Greta sounded as though she were going to cheer for her own victory at any moment. The slight softening of her tone announced the fact that she was pleased with he apparent result of her torture. Pleased and delighted.
"You are right, Mistress," Linda whispered through dry, cracked lips. She did not have to work hard to achieve the weak, dry tone in which her words were spoken. Her lips were cracked and her tongue felt as though the sun had swelled it to twice its normal size.
"You would like something to drink, yes?" Greta asked, without making a move toward the water bucket.
"Oh please, Mistress. I beg you ... my mouth is so dry. I feel so weak. Don't punish me any more. I'm sorry for what I said ... for what I did. Please...."
"Yes, more darling ... much, much more," Greta said, dreamily, caught up in her own fantasies. "I love to hear you beg. I adore to hear you plead. Tell me who is the boss around here. Tell me how much you implore me for my forgiveness."
"Oh yes, Mistress ... that I do," Linda agreed, continuing with the charade, watching and feeling the momentum of her little scheme being born and growing inside her. She had to work to keep her confidence and pleasure from showing. "I want ... no, I need your forgiveness more than anything. I realize now how mistaken I've been. There is no one like you. You are the boss ... without doubt, you own me ... my body, my soul, my life ... everything."
Greta's chest swelled with pride and satisfaction, reminding Linda of a peacock showing off during the mating dance. Linda knew she was doing well ... her humble-pie monologue was having its desired effect. She continued now, with ease, certain that she was headed in the right direction to achieve her goal.
"I am your slave ... your willing slave," she announced in a soft, repentant tone of voice. "You have only to order and I will obey ... gladly. But please, first ... a drink ... something to quench my thirst. I've been out here in this broiling sun for so long ... please...."
"With pleasure, my dear," Greta answered, a new, cunning smile playing with her features. She moved hautily across the distance separating the two women. Her enormous breatss jiggled merrily and seemed to reflect the rays of the sun. She was naked except for the high, black leather boots that she wore.
She stepped up in front of Linda and cut the bonds which held her headpiece in place. For the first time, Linda was able to move her head from right to left, up and down.
Linda cried out reflexively as she attempted to take advantage of this new, partial freedom. Her neck had become stiff and sore from the many hours of non-movement. Her shoulders felt as though they might collapse from the burdon of supporting the weight of her head ... but still, she would not be discouraged, would not be stopped in her plan.
She was still tied quite securely on her hands and knees, even though she was now able to manipulate her head. She watched, silently, as Greta positioned herself directly before her kneeling form.
Greta didn't speak for a few moments. She stood in front of Linda and then moved closer, so that the curly thatch of her pussy was barely inches from Linda's swollen, sunburnt face.
Linda stared at the nakedness in front of her and then gazed upward, questioningly, into Greta's cruel face. "Mistress?"
"You wanted something to drink, did you not?"
It was not Greta's answer, but the things she did not say that told Linda what was expected of her. Inside herself, the kneeling, bound beauty felt her insides tilt with revulsion. Still, she knew that she had to continue this play acting for a while in order to achieve the ultimate triumph she had in mind.
"As you wish, Greta," she whispered, hoping, inside herself that the revulsion she felt would not give itself away through her inability to perform. She would keep her goal in mind, she promised herself. No matter what she had to do ,. . no matter what Greta made her do, she would continue to tell herself that this was all necessary ... merely a means to an end ... the most delightful end she could imagine ... Greta's defeat.
She closed her eyes and leaned forward, acutely aware of the odor of Greta's body so close to her nostrils .,. . an unmistakable fragrance that informed her Greta was excited.
"No, bitch ... open your eyes!" Greta snapped. "I want you to see exactly what you're doing. I want to make sure that you know whose pussy you're drinking from. It wouldn't be quite the same if you were eating me out while your thoughts were of someone else ... would it?"
"Yes, Mistress," Linda whispered while, inside herself, she cursed Greta for being such a rotten cunt. The woman was mad, to be sure, but she wasn't stupid. Linda would have to take more care ... pay attention to every minute detail of her behavior so as not to betray her real feelings.
She opened her eyes ... just in time to see Greta's hips thrusting forward in her direction ... thighs spread and pussy lips parted .,. . moist and waiting for attention.
Linda extended her tongue and brought it into contact with the soft hairs surrounding Greta's open cunt. The pungent taste of female sexuality assailed her and she fought not to recoil from the mere force of her hatred.
"Get that tongue inside," Greta commanded. "Open your mouth wide, you little bitch ... or else you're going to drown."
Hating every moment of this, Linda did as she was told ... and just in time ... for in that moment, Greta ejected a stream of warm, yellow liquid from the depths of her body.
Greta caught Linda by the hair and forced her face all the way up to the gaping orafice. "Drink that piss, you bitch! Swallow it into your stomach. That's the only drink you're going to get ... and even that is too much for the likes of you!"
Mouthful after mouthful of bitter liquid poured down her throat. Linda was forced to swallow quickly in order to keep herself from gagging and becoming ill. She was grateful, at least, that there was no one there on the deck who could witness her humiliation. She felt as though she would surely die if anyone were to see her in this position ... serving Greta in this way.
It was uncanny ... as though Greta had been actually able to read Linda's mind. In the midst of it all, she pushed Linda's head back and stepped to the Side of the kneeling woman.
"No, not alone ... not with just the two of us here," she announced, suddenly. "I want to have you illustrate your defeat and servility publicly. I want you to serve me in front of the whole ship ... and especially ... in front of your darling Miranda."
It took all of Linda's control and resolve to keep from protesting at that point.,.. to stop herself from telling Greta what she really felt. Still, she knew that she would have to force herself, somehow, to go through with this. With this and with everything and anything else that Greta could devise for her .,. . until he time was right to change things, forever.
Greta unbound Linda and dragged her to her feet. Linda whimpered in pain as arms and legs which had been motionless and bound for hours were suddenly called upon to function and support weight. She felt as though every part of her body had been beaten and bruised as, indeed, had been the case. She hurt everywhere ... inside and out. ... and, as Greta dragged her below decks, she found herself wondering vaguely if her body would ever mend again.
"Greta, please," she begged, "let me show you how much I've changed. Let me make amends."
Greta paused, momentarily curious. "What exactly did you have in mind," she asked.
Linda took a deep breath. She knew that this was the cruicial moment ... the making or the breaking of her scheme.
"Once," she continued," you wanted me to be your assistant. You wanted me to be at your side to train these girls ... to punish them and to discipline them for your pleasure. Let me do that now, Greta ... please, let me be an instrument of your will."
"I'm not sure," Greta answered. "I don't believe I'll ever be able to fully trust you again."
"You must," Linda said, giving it her all now. "You know you need me every bit as much as I need you. You know that you cannot continue to control all of these girls by yourself. They are too much for one person. Without my help, one day, they will revolt against you. You may be powerful, but even you, yourself, can not dominate an entire shipful of women slaves."
"Oh, can't I?" The fury and indignation gleamed brightly in Greta's eyes ... exactly as Linda had hoped it would. "Well see who is supreme around here, young lady. Not only am I going to bend you to my will, but every single woman on this ship is going to serve me."
"At once?" Linda raised an eyebrow in purposeful disbelief.
"If I wish it. Watch and see, you little bitch. I'm going to tan all of your hides now! How dare you assume that I, Greta, need anybody!"
With that, Greta tightened her hold on Linda's arm and dragged her the rest of the way downstairs to the huge quarters below deck.
"I want everybody in here," Greta screamed out, her voice rippling with obcession. "Everybody! Do you here me! Get your asses in here, or I'll whip you all to shreds!"
"You'll never be able to control them all, mark my words," Linda said, fanning he flame that she had created with her own cunning and her knowledge of Greta's power madness.
Greta backhanded Linda across the face ... once, twice, three times.
Linda whimpered in pain. Her head was spinning from the sharp blows and her vision was momentarily blurred. When she could see clearly again, a procession of naked bodies was filing into the room.
"I have something to show you," Greta announced, when the entire room was filled with waiting, curious faces. "My new toilet bowl ... our beloved Linda. Watch, everyone ... and see what is in store for you if any of you dares to disobey me the way she has!" Greta then returned her attention to Linda.
"On your knees, cunt!" she screamed. "Show everybody how high and mighty you are now!"
Linda sank to her knees in front of Greta. She waited while the other woman seated herself on a chair and spread her thighs wide.
The red lips of her cunt parted, revealing the moist, inner flesh. Her clit was clearly visible, hard and stiff ... proof positive of her excitement.
"Suck, you little bitch!" Greta growled.
"Drink that stuff out of my pussy. Let everyone see how low you've fallen."
Linda felt her cheeks blush scarlet with the embarrassment of her predicament. And yet, she moved close to the woman, crawling forward on her knees, willing to do Greta's bidding ... at least for now.
Linda did not so much as glance to the right or to the left ... she did not dare ... for she knew that somewhere in that crowd of faces must be Miranda. To see Miranda, looking at her as she drank the urine from Greta's vagina was more than Linda thought she would be able to bear. Later, everything could be explained....
The warm liquid filled her mouth again. Linda was aware of the howls of derision and the sounds of excitement around the room as Greta forced her to drink it all.
"Now, eat my cunt," Greta said in a loud voice, for the benefit of everyone in the room.
Linda slid her tongue far into the wet Slit, aware of a mixture of tastes. The residue of the urine combined with the lubricating liquid which marked Greta's excitement and lust.
Good, Linda thought to herself. It was important that Greta be mad with arousal in order for this scheme to work.
Linda raised her trembling fingers and spread the lips of Greta's cunt as far apart as they would go. The elongated clitoris was clearly accesable now, and Linda took advantage of that fact to grasp thee stiff peninsula of flesh between her mouth and tease it expertly ... just the way she knew that Greta would like it.
Indeed, Linda was quite correct. Greta's moans and grunts of excitement filled the air as Linda continued to tease her clit and lick the walls of her cunt hungrily. Again and again, Linda slid her tongue as far into Greta's dripping channel as it would go ... and again and again, Greta writhed and undulated her belly with delight.
Now, Linda reached up to find the hardening points of Greta's breasts. She captured a stiff nipple in each hand and rolled the little buds of flesh back and forth rhythmically between her thumbs and forefingers.
Greta threw her head back and thrust her pelvis upward, burying Linda's face in the tight pussy hair. Linda lapped avidly at the wet, gaping hole. She used her lips, her tongue, her teeth ... everything and in every way she could think of to drive Greta past the point of control.
It worked. Soon, Greta's naked bottom was thumping heavily against the seat of the chair as she pistoned her hips eagerly ... in an ever-increasing tempo of desire and lust.
"What about the rest of them?" Linda's voice was a challenge, reminding Greta of the bragging she had done, just a little while ago.
Greta understood what Linda was talking about and grinned, confident that she would be able to make good her boast.
"You!" Greta called, pointing to one of the women, standing along the sidelines. "Over here!" She tapped one breast, making the message obvious. "And you! Over here ... I want you to suck my other tit."
Soon, there were two other women catering to Greta's enormous lust. A mouth suckled hungrily on each breast, slurping and nuzzling the warm, excited flesh.
Greta slid her booted leg in between the thighs of one of the women who were sucking on her nipples. The spikes drove hard into the woman's naked crotch, bringing forth a cry of pain from the unsuspecting girl.
It seemed to go on forever. The more she was catered to, the more Greta seemed to want ... and the more she hautily demanded. She ordered that she be brought a selection of 'sexual persuaders' in order to heighten her pleasure.
No one dared to disobey her.
And all the time, Linda was waiting ... just biding her time for the right moment to come along.
It was perfect. With Linda goading her on, Greta reached new heights of excitement ... and cruelty. Before long the women giving her pleasure were screaming in pain as Greta whipped them mercilessly and tore their flesh, shoving huge, spiked dildos into their bleeding cunts.
And then, Linda saw her opportunity. As Greta was just about to reach her orgasm, Linda leaped up, grabbed one of the whips and yelled, "Now, girls! Let's get this bitch now and give her a taste of her own medicine ... let's give her what she deserves!
The mood changed immediately. Inspired by their pain and humilation, the girls turned on Greta like savages. Soon, the whips were flying through the air, striping Greta's silken flesh, beating her senseless.
Linda laughed long and loud as the little boat was cut loose from the main ship. Greta, tied to the mast of the smaller vessel was still unconscious from her beating. But when she woke up, Linda knew, the woman was in for a big surprise.
She turned and smiled. Miranda, standing beside her smiled too.
Now, they could devote their full attention to each other ... forever.
