While the hanging girl closed her eyes to shut out the sheer humiliation of it all, both men openly inspected her naked breasts. Ferret inserted his curved fingertips under the hanging pendant and flicked it, sending the little mound wobbling liquidly, all the while snickering with delight.
The playful tits inspired Yasir who now moved in to get a piece of the action. He slid behind the hanging girl and brought both big hands up to cover those pert tits, closing them into his callused palms, squeezing until the girl wiggled and arched back against him and a muffled groan came from her parted lips.
The big man felt her up lavishly while little Kip whimpered behind her gag.
“You’re right, Sego. This one’s some hot piece! You know what I think? I think she ain’t a Fed after all. I think she’s just a little whore lookin’ for some action, crawlin’ around on boats lookin’ for some sailors to show her a good time.” He laughed at his own joke.
Mallory, watching with growing indignation, could stand it no longer. She began to thrash about, yanking on the rope that held her in place and braying her protests loudly, if incoherently, from behind the ball stuffed in her gaping mouth.
The two men turned to regard her, with curious detachment, as the dark-haired woman shook and twisted in fiery agitation. They looked at one another and smiled.
“Hey, it looks like the other chick is jealous — just ‘cause her friend’s having all the fun.”
“Yeah, but her friend is the one with tits, that’s why.”
“You think the other one is pissed, ‘cause she’s flat as a board?”
“I dunno, let’s find out.”
Mallory watched the men approach with growing alarm. As Sego reached for her, she twisted in agitated fury and kicked out at him. The knife appeared from nowhere, the blade, close to her face. Mallory suddenly got very, very still. The ferret plucked the right shoulder of her T-shirt and forced the blade through the seam. She held herself tense as the flat side of the cold blade was pressed against her other shoulder, and a second slit was made from shoulder to neck on her left side. Yasir’s stubby fingers dug into the neck of the tattered T-shirt, and he yanked it down to her waist.
The two men inspected the lanky woman as she hung before them, stripped to her brassiere and baggy shorts. The bra was a salmon-colored, lightweight thing, with unadorned thin straps and cups made of fine mesh — more for form than for uplift, as Mallory’s skimpy tits hardly required support.
Sego immediately went to work on the bra and with a few strategic snips, it fell away to expose Mallory Channing’s petite breasts. He gathered up the flimsy tangle of straps and tossed it aside. Then he stepped back to join his comrade in admiring Mallory’s newly-bared chest: lithe, sculpted with thickened disks that mounded slightly outward in bas-relief, their centers crowned with surprisingly thick, ripe nipples.
The grinning ferret reached for her. A finger and thumb closed to lightly pluck an inviting pink nipple, plump and fleshy. He rolled it experimentally between thumb and forefinger, while his captive glared at him over her gag, a look of cold hatred in her pale blue eyes. The ferret-faced man looked back into her eyes as his fingers toyed with her nipple. And he was still looking into her eyes as his fingers tightened, vise-like, on the sensate tip.
Mallory’s muted cry came out strangled as she arched back and shook her head in helpless rage.
The vise-like pressure held for one long agonizing moment, and then it relaxed, though he still held her by the throbbing nipple, lightly tugging on the pliant flesh.
“You know what,” he said regarding his captive with a decidedly wicked grin, “I think this one wants to play, too. Just a couple of whores, lookin’ for some fun,” the thin man smirked, reaching for the belt of Mallory’s shorts.
But just as his fingers were about to attack the helpless girl’s belt buckle, the sound of a motor boat grew abruptly louder. The startled crewmen look at each other, and as one, turned to scramble to the deck, leaving the three girls to stare at one another, commiserating their fate in silence.
Chapter Four
Having no choice in the matter, the girls were forced to wait in place, while from above them they heard the motor of the small boat slow to an idle, and then abruptly quit. The silence lasted for no more then five minutes, after which there was the sound of male voices in the hallway: Sego’s and occasionally Yasir’s — defensive and plaintive; and a third voice, a low rumbling voice that was both accusatory and questioning.
The doors opened and Sego and Yasir walked in, flanking a neatly bearded man, tall and fit; an older man, with cold blue eyes and flecks of gray in his brushed-back, thinning hair. The dark turtleneck he wore with his blue blazer gave him a vaguely nautical look, and he held himself with sense of command, as though he were quite definitely the Captain of the Big Wizz. His thin lips were set and tight as he contemplated the three prisoners. Unlike the other two who looked upon the unfortunate girls with open, leering male lust, this man seemed to view the bare-breasted females with cold indifference, as though his finely controlled features would allow for no display of emotions.
“So. Quite a catch ...and we weren’t even fishing,” the Captain said in a contemplative voice, as he studied Mallory’s sleek, stretched-out, figure.
“Have you searched them?”
The man called Sego, pointedly eyed up the semi-nude women, broke out into a smile, and began to make what might have been a joke, but one look at the humorless Captain caused him to bite his lip. This man was not kidding!
“Nah,” he confessed. “We didn’t have time. Sir”, he added lamely, when the Captain spun around to give him a hard look. Sego wilted.
The Captain said nothing, his eyes once more studying Mallory.
“You two are useless,” he said talking to the two crewmen while his eyes never strayed from Mallory’s. “Worse than useless. What little brains you have are in your cocks.” Although the words were derisive, the tone was cold and even.
Suddenly, he spun on his heel, and started to the door.
“Search them. Take Cunt 8 to her cabin. Bring the other two to me. And tell Dwayne, and Merc that I want to see them - immediately!” Then he was gone.
***
The Dillon girl, ’Cunt 8’ to her captors, was taken down and led away. She seemed to be in a daze. Next, the two agents were unhitched from the overhead lines, though the handcuffs and gags remained in place. Their pockets were searched and the billfolds with their IDs were discovered. Then their shoes and socks were removed. Finally, they had to drop their shorts — just to make sure, their captors assured them with big grins. Then, barefoot, wearing nothing but their shorts, the two handcuffed agents were escorted along the carpeted passageway and up one flight of stairs to what must have been the Captain’s cabin.
Yasir respectfully knocked on the door and waited for the curt “Enter”. The Captain sat behind his desk; an impressive bank of video monitors behind him showing black and white scenes of the interior of the boat. On one, an obviously exhausted Meghan Dillon lay curled up asleep on her bed.
The Captain ignored the monitors, studying the service revolvers on the desk in front of him. And he was not alone. Behind him stood the two crewmen whom the girls had observed leaving for shore earlier that day. To his left stood the thick, stocky guy with the bullet-head, hairy tattooed arms folded, pug face impassive and dull. He had the powerfully built physique of a fireplug. At his other side was the tall, blond guy. He was smiling at them in a way that showed that he, unlike his boss, fully appreciated the sight of a couple of pretty, half-naked women. Mallory dropped her eyes to floor and kept them there as the two captives were hauled before the Captain’s desk.
Sego deposited the ID folders on the desk and stepped quickly back. The Captain picked up each one, studied the ID cards, looked at their pictures to compare them to the originals; found the photo of Meghan Dillon that Mallory had tucked into hers. His stern face showed not the slightest expression as he finished his ex
amination.
“Sit down.” he motioned to them. “You! Take off their cuffs. Then you two get to work! I want to get going. We’ll talk later.”
He waited until his orders were carried out, and Sego and Yasir had beaten a hasty retreat to the deck. The bare-chested women were left sitting on the edge of two hard wooden chairs, rubbing their freed wrists, embarrassed, trying to avoid the intent male eyes.
“Now, we’re going to have a little talk. But first I’m going to tell you about our rules here. I am the Captain of this vessel, and as such I demand absolute obedience from everyone aboard. We have certain rules here, rules which I will tell you only once.
“The first rule is: You are not to talk without permission, except for answering a question put to myself or one of my crew. Second, you will answer all questions fully and truthfully. If you violate these or any other rules while on this ship, you will be punished and the gags re-applied until you’re ready to obey. You see, on this ship we have the disciplinary means necessary to carry out appropriate punishment, and my crew looks forward to the opportunity to use those means on lovely women, believe me.”
He looked at each of them. His face remained impassive, but the hardness in those shifting eyes convinced Mallory that the man was dead serious.
“Now, if you wish the gags to be removed, nod your heads.” He looked meaningfully from Mallory to Kip and each nodded, grateful for the chance to get the hateful rubber balls out of their distended mouths.
Freed of their gags, the girls worked their jaws and lips, and gave each other reassuring glances. Mallory wanted to take the lead, to try to reason with the man, but she thought it wise to bide her time. She would wait for her opportunity. Then they heard the muffled rumble of the yacht’s diesels; felt the quiet surge of power from deep in the vessel, felt the unmistakable movement. The prisoners realized, with a sinking feeling, that they were underway. Each mile would take them further beyond all hope of rescue.
“Now. What is your name?”
“My name is Mallory Channing. I’m a Federal Agent and you’re....”
His raised hand stopped her.
“You will answer my questions, nothing more. And you will address me as ‘Sir’. You will also address any of my crew as ‘Sir’. Now, let’s try again. What is your name?”
“Mallory Channing .. Sir.” She found his intense stare unsettling.
“No! And I am only going to tell you this once, and only once. You have stolen aboard my boat. By all the laws of the sea, it is the Captain’s right to deal with stowaways as he pleases. So you see, you are mine to do with as I like. Now, we’ll start all over. I don’t care what your name used to be. It changed the minute you set foot on this boat. Here we use only nicknames. It protects the innocent,” he added with a trace of a smile; a muffled snicker came from the two crewmen. “From now on you will be known as Cunt 9, do you understand?” he spoke slowly and carefully.
The man looked at Mallory with the deadpan expression of a snake studying its prey. She felt a shiver run through her, and for the first time, she actually knew fear; palpable, heart-pounding fear. Her throat was dry as she tried the words.
“Yes...I understand...Sir.” The last was quickly added when his gaze flickered.
“Good. Now, what is your name?”
Mallory felt a crazy urge to laugh at him. The whole thing was so absurd! Yet the deadly quiet and the intensity of his gaze, convinced her that she must not trifle with this man. She heard herself saying the mandated words.
“C..Cunt.. 9, Sir”, she whispered, burning with profound humiliation.
He repeated the formula with Kip, who was promptly dubbed Cunt 10. Kip obeyed, her tousled head hung low, eyes studying the rug.
“We shall have to do something about your manners. Raise your heads. Look at me when I talk to you.”
A detailed interrogation followed. They went over the same ground again and again. The man seemed intent on finding out what they knew, how they had come to suspect the Big Wizz, and who else knew they were onboard. He spoke in a calm even voice, and listened to her answers with that expressionless look. Still there was something about his hard blue eyes that remained unsettling. The agents knew they would have to be very careful.
At first, Mallory kept her answers terse, though in time, she tried to convince the man that particular craft was well known to the police; was under suspicion by a swarm of detectives who knew that they had gone aboard. He had best give up before he was charged with kidnapping federal agents.
For a moment, he searched her face with his pale blue eyes. Then, in a gesture designed to show her just how much he feared her implied threats, he picked up their identification tags and casually tossed them out a porthole.
“You still don’t understand, Cunt 9. This vessel is already in international waters. Your agency has no jurisdiction.” He leaned across the desk, bringing his face close to hers. His voice was low and deadly.
“You’re no longer Ms Mallory Channing, Government Agent. On this ship, you’re a cunt…Cunt 9 - and I own you. A nice-looking cunt, I’ll grant you, but one who, at the moment, is in deep trouble. I might just as well tie you up and dump you over the side, but that sweet ass of yours has saved you, at least for now. I have a feeling your ass might be ‘useful’ to me, so I’m going to let you live. Now if you, and little sister here are real good girls, and if you’re obedient, and nice to me and my crew, then maybe, just maybe, you’ll live to see port.”
He backed away and sat down, tilting back in his chair, and lit a cigarette.
"Now, both of you, stand up,” he ordered quietly.
They did as they were told, standing to face their captor.
“Get undressed.” The deadly eyes never wavered.
Kip looked at Mallory, but the senior agent looked away. They had no choice. Their hands went to their shorts. Mallory, unbuckled the belt and opened her baggy shorts, holding them up as if reluctant to let them slide down her long bare legs. Kip worked open the snug denim cutoffs and hooking her thumbs into the front, shoved them down her hips, past her knees, raising each foot in turn to step out of the fallen shorts. Mallory followed, letting the shorts fall to the ankles, stepping free. Now each girl stood in her panties before his desk, waiting.
Mallory’s salmon-colored briefs were slung low on her long svelte hips; dark pubic hair mistily visible through the tautly drawn crotch. Kip’s underpants were a pastel yellow cotton, trimmed in white elastic, high-cut at the hips, the legbands high-arching ridges that curved under to leave her small butt peeking out in cheeky insolence at either side.
“Go on. What are you waiting for?”
Mallory felt the tension, the flush of embarrassment - the sense of denial that this could be happening to her! She kept her eyes on the wall behind him, well over his head, brought her hands to her panties, hooked her thumbs in the waistband and, taking a deep breath, ran the dusky pink panties down her legs, bending forward, and stepping free of them, all in one quick motion.
Simultaneously, Kip dropped her drawers, stepped delicately out of them, and kicked them away.
The elegant brunette stood tall and erect, her eyes on some distant horizon. ‘Let the bastards look,’ she thought, chin held high with supreme disregard for the leering males. Not as belligerent, Kip flushed and kept her head bent; eyes on the carpet.
For a moment no one said anything. He kept them standing there before his desk.
The men smiled to see the dark-haired woman’s proud nude figure, those sleek long lines, the petite tits with jutting nipples, the long torso with a hint of hipbones defining the flat belly, and at its base, a wedge of pubic hair, dark luxuriant coils of soft pussy fur. The slender lines melded into slim hips and those impressive legs, shapely feminine contours that tapered to slim ankles and long narrow feet. To her side, the slight figure of the smaller girl looked almost pubescent, the curves underdeveloped. His hands could easily span that small waist, the fingertips touching, and should tho
se hands slide lower, they could curve around to cup those neatly curved buttocks. The girl’s small, frisky tits, added to her a fresh, playful appeal, while demurely tucked between her rounded thighs, a gently mounded pubes sported a light sprinkling of fine, dusky curls.
"Shoulders back, arms at your side, palms forward, legs together."
The two prisoners struck the mandated pose. Mallory turned her wrists so her palms faced forward, raised her chin, and brought her heels together. Kip did the same.
“Very good. I think they’re learning,” the Captain said to his grinning blond sidekick. Again the two nudes were subjected to this humiliating scrutiny while, he studied them with those impassive eyes, even as his henchmen smirked with self-satisfied pleasure. For the longest time the two girls were kept standing there. Then the Captain stirred, sat upright, and crushed out his cigarette.
“Now get down. On your knees!”
Mallory had sinking feeling. She knew what was coming next, and she dreaded it. Yet the sight of her .38 on the desk, had given her a glimmer of hope. She was close to it. So close.
She slid to her knees, as the Captain came around his desk to stand before her. He strode right up to her and planted his feet in a widened stance. He was only inches away, hands on his hips, looking down on her dark hair. Before her eyes, she saw the telltale bulge in his pants, waiting for her.
“Go on. You know what to do.” His tone was even, business-like, as though detached form the erotic sight of the beautiful nude who knelt at his feet. Still, he couldn’t help the tiny curl that twitched the corner of his lips when he saw those exquisite fingers reaching for the front of his tented pants.
Chapter Five
Mallory saw her chance! The kneeling woman tightened her muscles, and with all the strength she could muster, she struck, lashing out with a lightening jab, burying her fist in the softness of the vulnerable crotch of the man who towered over her. He screamed, buckled over, clutching his injured manhood, as the girls scrambled to their feet, and Mallory lunged across the desk to make a grab for the gun.