The Captains Wife (Chapter 12)

Chapter 12 - The Captains Punishment

Never had I felt lower than when the captain looked at me at that moment. The rage seemed to leave him and his eyes were filled with sadness. He seemed overcome with despair. I knew I had hurt him and I was furious with myself. I had done a despicable, unforgivable thing. I felt dirty and vile.

With the desperation of the damned I threw myself at his feet and sobbed. I wept bitter tears and kissed his feet but he only stood there, ignoring me. I cried for a long time until it seemed I had no more tears.

I looked up at him, silently pleading. Why didn't he react? Why didn't he strike me? Where was his fierce paddle now? The thought of his punishments filled me with desire and I longed for the crack of his belt across my buttocks. I wished with all my being he would take his paddle and punish me harder than ever before. I knew I deserved it and I longed for the release of guilt that punishment brings.

But the Red Devil only pushed me away and left the room. I followed, crawling on my hands and knees, tears suddenly flowing again, begging him to punish me. I followed him to the main deck. Here he whispered for some time to the first mate who looked at me lustfully and occasionally grinned.

"Immediately, Captain!" the first mate barked and grasping my long hair he pulled me away from the captain. I screamed and struggled to stay but his grip was strong and I was f***ed to follow him.

He led me to the foredeck. Here he found some ropes and I knew again I was to be tied and it pleased me. Perhaps the captain would punish me after all. Every time I'd been tied before I'd been punished most diligently, so I had no reason to suspect otherwise. I cooperated willingly, almost eagerly.

But this time the first mate tied me in an unusual and most disagreeable position. He tied my hands straight above my head. Then he lifted my legs and tied my ankles to my wrists so that my face peered out between my legs and I was doubled over like a very narrow U. He f***ed my head down and tied my legs together behind my head, the stretched cord making it impossible for me to raise my head, my legs keeping me from turning it.

My sex was open and exposed directly beneath my blushing face. Then, to my horror, the cook appeared with his pottery jar of sweet honey. He dripped it over my chest and sex and I writhed in horror and despair.

The honey tickled as it dripped off my body and I felt stimulated in several places at once. But soon the honey began to dry and I could already begin to feel the tightening of the skin surrounding my lower lips. The sensation was so close to a tickle or an itch I could not help but moan in self-pity and beg for some kind of release.

I broke off my plea in mid-cry when the Red Devil appeared before me. He made a motion with his hand and I saw the cabin boy was being dragged forward. In horror I watched as the boy was stripped naked and bound face down across the width of a barrel. A rod was produced and passed to the Captain who began to cane the boy brutally.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Again and again the thin rod swished through the air and struck the writhing, howling boy. Deep red lines sprang up across his lily white bottom cheeks and as the beating continued, these lines began to swell and darken and soon they were purple and black.

But still the Captain caned the boy, moving down to the back of the boy's legs, whipping the stick across the c***d's tender thighs. I began to weep I felt so awful for the innocent boy. I moaned and cried out but everyone ignored me. The boy slumped forward in a stupor, and someone fetched a bucket of cold seawater to splash across his face. This revived him only slightly, and then he was out again. The second bucket was poured slowly across his bleeding buttocks and the sting of the salt water awoke the boy fully. As though he hadn't stopped, the Red Devil continued the caning.

I thought the caning was severe, but it was nothing like the treatment that came afterward. Fortunately the boy was scarcely conscious during the experience, and my only regret is that I was not u*********s too.

The men ****d him. Faint in my understanding of such things as I am, I could not mistake their actions for anything else. One by one they came up and took him from behind. I saw the Captain watching but he did not participate. Only when he saw the boy was raw and bleeding continuously did he stop the men, promising those who were left unsatisfied other rewards.

"Toss him overboard," growled the captain to several of his men. I cried out for the Captain to have mercy but was ignored. Men untied the cabin boy and began dragging him to the edge of the ship. I wanted to retch I felt so angry. I tore at my bonds, the ropes cutting into my flesh but doing nothing to aid my escape.

"Please!" I begged, sobbing. "Please have mercy on the boy, Captain. He did nothing. He's just an innocent boy. It was all my doing, all my fault. The boy did nothing. You've beaten him. Let him live, I beg of you. Kill me instead, if you must, or beat me. But let the boy alone. He has been punished enough."

Something in my ineloquent words must have pricked the Red Devil's heart, for suddenly he shouted the men to stop just as they had lifted the boy over the edge and were prepared to drop him. The boy hung there, lifeless, his future on hold.

The Captain turned to me. "Do you mean what you say?"

"I meant every word, my Lord."

"You shall be punished, of course."

"Yes, Master. I deserve to be punished."

"It shall be done out of my sight. I cannot bear to look at you."

This news hit me like a blow. "Captain, please. Punish me yourself. If it is you I can take it. If you let the others torture me I shall die."

The Red Devil glared at me. "When you betrayed me you lost whatever right you had to be called mine. You are theirs, now." His hand gestured towards the foul-smelling horde of men gathering around us. I began to weep, knowing that he was right.

"Take him below, to his bed," said the Captain to the men holding the cabin boy. "And the woman is yours. Do not kill her or injure her permanently, but make her suffer as you will."

Then the Red Devil turned his back on me and walked away. I screamed and screamed but I might as well have been pleading to a stone wall. The Captain had abandoned me. I was alone and surrounded by many.

Thankfully I remember very little of my punishments, though my stomach is filled with bile at the thought of what I endured. The caning was first and the worst, because I was the most alert. They beat me while I was doubled, striking my buttocks and the backs of my legs countless times. My flesh was nothing but bl**dy welts and bruises, and I passed out several times and had to be revived.

The men seemed to think this spoiled their amusement for they wanted to toy with me for a long time. Someone suggested punishing my feet. He had lived in the Orient for a time and claimed that foot punishments were painful but could last for hours.

So the soles of my feet were caned. I was not removed from my doubled position, only lowered so my feet were at a level where they could be caned. At first the blows were only painful, then they became agonizing. I could have sworn my feet were nothing but bl**dy stumps of flesh but the men claimed they were only red and puffy and could take much more. This nearly overwhelmed me as I imagined an entire night of this torture.

When my feet were so swollen that the men feared permanent injury the cane was exchanged for a soft leather whip. They whipped my legs and buttocks, too, the sting of the leather across my welted flesh drawing screams from my hoarse throat. How long this lasted I do not know, for I was nearly out of my mind with pain.

Fresh pain brought me to a state of more alertness when the men began to whip the lips of my sex. At first I felt nothing but unbelievable suffering. I sweated profusely and howled until my voice gave out. I cared nothing for these evil men who only laughed at my distress and pain and enjoyed seeing me suffer so horribly.

After what felt like days the whipping of my sex became intermingled with pleasure. My sex grew damp and I could feel a swelling arousal coursing through my body. I began to anticipate the stroke of the whip, to arch my body to receive it, to nearly beg for its punishing, pleasurable stroke. The odd thing was that it never struck me quite where I wanted it, always landing near but never just right. If the men had planned it better they could not have tormented me in any worse fashion. To be so hungry and yet so unsatisfied was far more grotesque than the mundane pain.

After hours of beating I was released from my cramped and awkward position. My body screamed in agony as the bl**d began to flow freshly into my neglected limbs. I could not walk for my feet were far too sore. I had to be carried to the men.

Once I was stretched out upon the hard wooden deck the men began to attack me. Cocks were thrust f***efully into my mouth nearly choking me. Hands and members explored my sex, sometimes both at once, it seemed, widening me. The pain was intense but I could in no way resist. I was limp with exhaustion and fear, and perhaps I was resigned to my fate.

Countless cocks and fingers entered me from behind. As soon as one cock was satisfied it seemed two more took its place. I was ****d over and over again in all my orifices. I was engulfed with the musky scent of males in heat. All around me were bodies, the naked bodies of men. I saw glimpses of arms and legs, magnificent chests, bellies, thighs, cocks, and buttocks.
Everywhere I looked I saw bodies pressed against each other and against me. I prayed I was only dreaming, that this was nothing but a nightmare, but in my heart I knew it was true, it was real.

I thought of the Captain frequently during that night's tortures, wondering what he was doing, where he was, and if he was thinking of me. I wondered if he hated me because of what I'd done, if he'd ever forgive me. I wished to God I'd never even met that cabin boy, but then my heart went out to him, lying on his bunk with nothing but pain to comfort him.

It was a long, miserable night. I prayed I might die and at last have peace.

To Be Continued...
90% (5/1)
Categories: BDSMFetishHardcore
Posted by wastedaway
4 years ago    Views: 534
Comments (1)
Reply for:
Reply text
Please login or register to post comments.
3 years ago
That was some punishment