by John Savage
What would a pirate do if he were to capture a tall, beautiful, athletic young woman on a remote Caribbean island? Take her prisoner, of course; keep her in tight bondage and use and abuse her body until he reached somewhere he could sell her at the slave auctions.
But if he and his shipmates were to find thirteen of them, the first women they had seen after many months at sea, then they would indeed have found a rare and valuable treasure. For the crew of the Sea Witch, however, these man-hating Amazons prove to be more than a handful…
Lynnette was untied and taken out, each bare arm being held by a strong male hand. Captain Friend followed them up the stairs. Several lanterns were lit around the deck, and most of the crew was already there, awaiting the show.
“Untie her hands but tie them again in front of her,” he ordered. “Then tie a rope to them and hang her from that yardarm until her toes are unable to touch the deck.”
Many eager eyes watched as the proud woman was untied and changed to a different form of bondage. When the two men pulled on the rope they had tossed over the yardarm, Lynnette was lifted off her feet until only the tips of her toes scrapped the wooden deck, then another few inches after that. There was a sigh of satisfaction rippling around the men.
“Now go below and bring up all the other women, one at a time. Keep their hands tied but put a noose around their necks. Tie that to the railing there so that they have to kneel down and face their leader.”
Again the crew watched as a dozen lovely young women were led up the stairs one by one, and secured kneeling before them. There were rough catcalls and crude comments hurled at them, along with promises of what would be done as soon as the men were allowed. Finally, all twelve were kneeling, most looking frightened, but all defiant.
Captain Friend climbed to the poop deck so he could address the whole group. He told Jean to translate for the girls.
“Men, you are gathered her to witness the punishment of one of our prisoners,” he said in a loud voice. “She is guilty of disrespect to her new owners.” He paused dramatically for a few seconds. Also to allow Jean to tell the girls what the crew had already heard. “She will be whipped.”
There was a murmur of satisfaction. The crew loved a good whipping. And these lovely creatures would make fine victims.
He waited a few more moments, enjoying the look of disbelief and fear on the faces of their captives. The only one who did not show fear was Lynnette, hanging by her wrists and the one who should show fear, if any. It was her ass, after all.
“Mr. Swenson, you have the cat?”
“Aye, sir,” said one of the crew, stepping forward. In his hand was a black leather whip with nine thongs. A couple of the women gave out gasps when it was brought into sight. He took up a position behind the hanging woman, and then looked up to his Captain for the signal.
“You may begin, Mr. Swenson,” Friend said. “Deliver thirteen strokes upon her bottom only. Space them out well.”
“Aye, aye,” replied Swenson. The woman looked over her shoulders at the man with the whip, nothing but contempt on her face. It was almost as if she did not know how much this was going to hurt. His arm came back and the first stroke was on its way.
Lynnette came close to screaming, all in the audience could tell that. Her body jerked into an arch, her mouth opened, but she held back the scream. Perhaps it was a matter of pride, perhaps training, but she seemed determined not to scream for these men.
There was plenty of reason to scream. All nine of the lashes had struck the bare flesh of her bottom, each delivering its own venom in a stinging bite that left her ass burning.
“One,” counted Swenson.
All could see short red lines forming on her smooth skin, each a trace of where a whip had kissed.
When she was again hanging still, his arm came back and swung. He put a great deal of force into the second stroke as he wished to make this beautiful woman scream.
When they had other female captives, it had not taken much effort to make them scream, just the touch of a real whip and they were whimpering and screaming and begging for mercy. This woman did not.
The second stroke also failed to evoke the desired sound effects. Again her body jerked violently and her feet kicked at empty air. She looked as if she were trying to curl up into a ball. Her mouth was set in a determined line and her features were contorted by the pain. Yet she would not give vent to it with a scream.
More red streaks formed upon her skin. All eyes were glued to that area, even those of the captive maidens. Some of them grimaced each time the whip cut into her behind. Perhaps they knew that it would be their turn one day.
The third stroke brought forth a gasp and a little half cry, half whine. Sweat was beginning to appear on her face and breasts. Her hands were clenched into fists that sprang open only when the lash hurt her bottom.
The fourth stroke again brought forth a whine, but no scream. Captain Friend leaned upon the railing to look down upon this unusual woman with interest.
It was the fifth stroke that did it. This was not a mild spanking they were giving her. This was honest punishment designed to inflict a great deal of pain. Welts were forming all over her cheeks, each swollen and turning ugly colors. The first strokes laid the groundwork, the next delivered the real pain. The cat-o-nine-tails was now being used on flesh that was already swollen and painful to the touch. The pain level rose a notch. And she finally screamed.
It came out despite her best effort to keep it in, a wail of agony, an animal cry of pain. Each of the kneeling Amazons felt her pain, too. Had they not been bound, certainly they would have leapt upon the pirates and attempted to kill them with bare hands.
The rest of the strokes were delivered slowly and upon flesh turning dark with bruises and swelling. After the first time, Lynnette no longer tried to keep her cries within. She screamed and did not care who heard it.
And she danced. Each time the whip struck her, she kicked wildly, a wonderful dance that was so very nice to watch. Unless you were one of the bound captives and wondering when it would be your turn, that is.
“Twelve,” said Swenson. Then he stood there, the whip hanging limply at his side, his bare chest covered in sweat much as she was covered in pain-sweat. For a long time no one said anything, the panting woman who hung there with head bowed and flesh almost torn up was a sight to behold.
But all good things come to an end. “Mr. Swenson,” the captain called down. “Leave her hang. We have other affairs to attend to.”
“All night, Captain?”
“For a few hours. I want her to think about this punishment.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
For a few more moments, Friend looked upon the hanging, suffering woman and felt the lust within his heart and loins heat up. Lord, but she was beautiful! Even more so in her suffering. Gone was that haughty, proud look. Instead she was a defeated, afraid woman who knew she was in the hands of those who could and would hurt her more than she could possibly endure.
Finally he came down the steps to the main deck. Slowly he walked along the line of nearly naked, bound women. When he got to the end, he turned and reviewed each again. All male eyes were upon him with eagerness. “This one,” he said, pointing to one of the tall blondes. “And this one.” A brunette. “And this one.” The last was the only redhead, the one who had stabbed one of his crew.
“Take these three to the galley. The rest, take them back below and secure them for the night. Mr. Bethemy, you know how that is to be done.”
Friend went to the galley ahead of his men and was waiting there when the first of the women was brought in.
The tall blonde stood there, fearful, angry, and defiant, all at the same time. Well, Friend thought to himself, we’ll get rid of the anger and defiance before this voyage is over. The fear can stay.
“Get rid of that animal skin,” he told the man holding her. When his hand reached for her covering, she tried to avoid him, but her hands were still bound behind her and his other hand held a fair grip upon her arm. He pulled it off with a snicker. As he tossed it aside, she tried to kick him between the legs.
Fortunately he had been expecting something like that, and blocked it with his thigh. Then he grabbed her arms from behind and held her solidly with the girl facing the Captain. “What you want I should do with her, Cap?”
“Put her on her back on yon table. Then tie her down right good. Be sure you spread her legs wide.”