Chapter 6
I scraped the deck and polished the ship's brass until my arms ached. At about three bells (three o'clock), I went below to wash up for the séance. A certain excitement invaded me as though I were preparing for my birthday with all my guests awaiting me. Of course I would be the most unimportant among them, but that did not prevent me from being the most excited one.
I put on a sparkling white shirt which showed off my tan to good advantage and my slacks had a pleat like a knife. At exactly four I tapped on the door of cabin "A" which belonged to the inimitable Mrs. Rugt.
A voice that obviously belonged to Nora rang out and previewed an observation.
"Come in Peter, we were waiting for you."
I walked in timidly and was told to sit beside Hilda. The seductive 'Gretchen' was dressed in ethereal blue and was more lovely than ever. She did not even take notice of my presence, but she seemed to stare in space as if she were contemplating another world.
"Tea, Peter?" Mr. Rugt offered me a cup and saucer which I took. He then poured in some tea and before he took his permanent place refilled Rosalind's cup.
While taking a sip of the warm stimulating liquid, I glanced at everyone and was pleased to find them all perky and in splendid form. Naturally, Hilda was somewhere on the moon, but that was to be expected.
The guests were exchanging conversation and the subject seemed to be about beauty in connection with its physical appreciation.
"I have always claimed that beauty is breathed in by the organism," the claim was coming from Mrs. Roach. "Let me explain. If you will notice carefully the dilation of a woman's nostrils and their capacity to drink in the surroundings, whether it be spiritual, physical or what have you, you will be witnessing beauty in action. Sensuality must expand itself through sensual organs. Outside of the nostrils the face is generally immobile. False movements of the eyes or mouth denote stupid and weak sensuality. I say, watch the nostrils."
What an odd subject. I had never thought about this and right off I found Mrs. Roaches reasoning somewhat vague. But vaguer notions were yet to come. Paul Rugt ventured forth.
"I agree with you in part, Rosalind. I often consider the sensual intensity and quality of a person by the state of their nostrils. Pure animal verification that's all. But you must go deeper than that. At the moment of dilation the hands are active indicating the grace of the mind and the comportment of the sensual expression. And much further, the attitude of the body and it's secretions must be taken into account. Why it's almost a clinical affair."
Paul Rugt spoke intelligently with a steady voice depicting clear thought. I was envious of him and would have liked to express my own thoughts on the subject if I had any.
"We are gathered here this afternoon to study and naturally enjoy sensual reactions. We are, with the exception of the youngsters, inclined to take our pleasures seriously with the hope of broadening out horizons. I would like to ask Mag Dill whether she will be good enough to provoke certain reactions among the men and we may even be surprised if it should invite the female instinct also."
Mag Dill looked askance at Nora Rugt and it was pretty evident that these two women did not get along. I don't think Mag Dill quite understood Nora, but the tone of voice definitely displeased her and her frown showed it.
"Well, what do you want me to do?" Mag rasped.
"My dear girl, parade your charms. We are here to mutually seduce one another if we are capable of it."
"Look here now, I have had as much as your high and mighty ass," Mag growled.
"Easy Mag, easy," Stevedore Jack intervened and prevented a spat.
"I won't have her makin' any insinuations, ya see," Mag tried to wrestle free from her husky husband.
"Be sweet honey, so we can all have fun," Jack patted his wife on the shoulder.
"You'll see how sweet I am, you silly lug. I'm going to make love to Mr. Rugt. That is if her highness doesn't mind."
"Good for you Mag. My husband is all yours." Nora teased and taunted her.
In one fell swoop Mag straddled the lap of Paul Rugt. Her skirt was high and her spread legs dangled to the side. She was brazen and her rapid sexuality awakened my dormant prick. Mag grabbed the two sides of Rugt's head with her fine claws and bending his neck back she planted a hearty kiss flush in the mouth. They stood locked to one another for a solid minute. Little by little, Mag seemed to arch forward and the tight skirt around her firm ass stretched to its limit.
That was when my joy stick stood up and took notice. There is a certain arch that a woman will take and a man must become ready. This fine poised attitude is magnificent and stimulates the male more than a hundred kisses. Like a swan in flight, Mag was fixed upon Paul's lap and I could well imagine that yawning crack displaying a wet rose bud.
A hand wandered over the surface of my trousers. I did not look down but I felt the strong sensual odor of Rosalind Roach. She was fingering my zipper. I slipped down and spread my legs to facilitate matters.
Mag opened Paul Rugt's shirt after she undid his tie and threw it at the feet of Nora. Rugt did not bat an eye. Mrs. Dill reached into the opening of the immaculate shirt and caressed the male breasts of the stoical Rugt.
What was that man made of? Once more he was being attacked through an excess of love and yet he remained calm and aloof.
And there I was, feverish and trembling, with my cock trapped in a forceful hand. I closed my eyes in a effort to think of something else, but it was no good. My trousers were being lowered and I felt the cool draft on my warm legs.
When I opened my eyes, Mag was sticking a pear-shaped breast at the lips of the ravaged aristocrat. He opened his mouth wide and sopped it in. At the same time a cavernous mouth covered my sex and I felt the warm comfort of Rosalind's tongue and lips.
Paul licked one and then the other and I was happy to see him waking up and participating with such an excellent and aggressive partner.
To my right, there seemed to be a commotion between Jack Dill and the fragile Hilda. She was kicking and biting the man, but he was gradually forcing her thighs apart. His big hands held her down the way he wanted. The fiery Hilda scraped at the sailor's bronzed face but without success.
Only two people in the room remained inactive, Melvin Roach, who was looking on as though he were watching a play and Nora Rugt, who was obviously delighting in her position of a simple observer.
Mag was searching the trousers of the ever awakening Mr. Rugt and soon she came out with an instrument of extreme value. She slipped it out with a vigorous motion and she wouldn't let go of it for anything. She reminded me of an apprentice horseback rider who would not release her saddle hump. Mag lifted her skirt all the higher and I saw a tuft of hair break from her luscious thighs. It seemed to beckon and lap in the stiff dick with its sturdy head. Mr. Rugt let it slip into the hilt.
The vivacious sailor's wife allowed her head to swing back and she emitted a groan of pleasure. They were joined together and Mag was bouncing up and down on the pleasure rod as though she owned it.
Mrs. Roach was giving me her best. An arm slid up my rear and her index finger was searching for my ass-hole. I spread my cheeks and hinted where it was. She fingered the rim and then put her nail portion in my rosy virginal hole. Her two hands were playing with me and in the most professional fashion. Soon her mouth was over my breast nipple at the left nipple and then the right. She was possessing me and all at once I felt that role was all wrong. She was the male and I was acting like the female. I was hot but discontented. My first reaction was to squeeze her breasts but instinctively I felt this to be child's play. Then, for the first time, the male within me took roots.
I cupped her ass and tightened my fingers around her taut flesh. She was so pleased with my aggressiveness that she nibbled at my ear. This gave me the courage to go on. I manipulated through her fine hairs until I came to two tremendous wet lips. Her big thighs fell helter-skelter and her enormous hole leaped into my unskilled hand.
I didn't want to falter. This was the time to show my talent. If I were ever to grow into a lover, this was my opportunity to learn. I stuck a finger up her huge aperture and it got lost. Then I tried two of them and they became lonesome in that wet hollow which appeared to be contracting and distending at times. I attempted three fingers and then four glued together. This worked out better. Rosalind bit my lip and all the while shoved her index finger deeper into my ass-hole. Her perfume intoxicated me and my passion mounted.
"Ah, you show promise after all. You are beginning to satisfy me," she cooed.
I felt proud and I was stirred on to new heights. Another arm wrapped around her and massaged her booming breasts. My fingers found her budding nips and they played skillfully on the tiny bumps.
Through my feverish eyes which seemed to roll in my head like two marbles in a can, I saw Mag and Paul Rugt foaming and frothing on the floor. Smartly they had taken on a new position. Paul had mounted his perky steed Mag who was bucking away in wholesome delight.
But the sight that almost released me from my partners slippery hole, was that of Melvin Roach. Melvin was sniffing the rear end of jockey Paul. Since he found it to his liking, he lowered the under shorts and explored the matter deeper. I had never before seen or even imagined such a spectacle. For that matter the theatrics that were going on astounded me and I could not give my best.
However, the wonderful manipulation of my sexual organs by the masterful Rosalind Roach put me in another sphere. First it was the cupping of my rosy buttocks and then the plucking of my ass hairs and the neat plugging up of my anus hole. All the while my balls and cock were licked and tongues until they set prickles over my bare boyish skin. There was no doubt about it, Rosalind was sucking me in with all her voluptuousness and she was wanton about it. I should have known what she would be like. Just watching her mouth her food, or handling a soft fabric, or just watching some graceful glance with her eyes, indicated that this woman lived and breathed with all her sensual organs. And here she was taking and sharing with me the delights of a ferocious intercourse.
My prick was embedded in her warm cat (How can I call it a mere pussy it was just too big to be called that.) Mrs. Roach inspired me. I drank her in and swam in the great sea of her odors and substance.
The small bit of me that vaguely noticed what was going on around me saw many strange sights. For example: Melvin had his face hidden in the rear of Paul and was making some awful sounds.
Powerless, Hilda was finally trapped by the wicked dick of the hefty stevedore and she continued to beat on his chest and face half with fear and I think, half with hysterical pleasure. Sometimes she would bite into his neck and this would shoot a new charge of energy throughout Jack's muscular body.
There it was. Paul was pumping the rear-end of the fluttery Mrs. Dill. He was helped in his exploits by the malicious tongue of the thin, svelte Roach. Mrs. Roach and I were giving and taking spurts of juice from one another and Hilda was slowly succumbing in her delirium to the manly sailor, Jack Dill.
And where was Nora Rugt in all this? She sat quite calmly in a comfortable arm chair surveying the love séance. If I had looked closer, I would have seen a glint in her eye that would perhaps have startled me. It is only now, after some time, that I can imagine and even know the way she looked upon us.
Suddenly I felt something tightening around me and when I put my hand to my side I detected a thick cord of rope that was binding me to the buxom body of Rosalind Roach. My action was suspended for the moment and I looked around I saw that all the others had been lassoed and dragged to the center of the room by one common cord. When I regained some much needed consciousness, I saw Nora pulling a huge rope with all her strength. Soon seven of us were rubbing shoulders and other private parts together.
Someone began to tickle my anus and a head was sucking at the breasts of my partner. The sweet smell of Hilda inflamed me and my mouth sought hers. Mag was biting the ass of her howling husband. It was either out of passion or hate. Melvin Roach was looking for Paul's prick and it was not to be had. for it was in Rosalind's spacious mouth.
Can you ever imagine such an entanglement of bodies? None of us had reached his or her climax and we were restrained from doing so by the tightness of the rope. But we severed, all of us. One by one we ejaculated and there was a chorus of "Oh's" and "Ah's" and trembling sounds. Love-juice stuck to our bodies and we did not know whom to thank or despise for it.
Exhausted, we all slumped upon one another. A few of us, like Jack Dill myself and Rosalind Roach, tried to renew out tasks. But our activity did not take last long for a thundering slash of a giant whip poured it's force on our naked hides.
Yes, Nora Rugt was flogging us all indiscriminately. What had we done? Was she jealous because she did not get a chance to participate? Was she crazed by the sight she had seen? At the time I could not guess with a mind completely dulled and tired by such a unusual continuous effort.
No one seemed to complain. Hilda cried hysterically and kept repeating "Again, again." Melvin appeared to be in ecstasy. As for the others they fought, against the unwarranted attack. Jack Dill tried to break the giant cord with his chest muscles but was fighting a losing battle. Mrs. Roach got her teeth into the cord and was biting away to no avail. Paul was using his hands and I was trying to slip my light physique through the tight binds.
It was no use, we were trapped and at the same time we were feeling the sting of a whip with several arms to it. My face and arms and hips reddened. Soon a trickling of blood flowed off Dill's shoulder. I never knew who had shed the blood. Mag Dill began to scream for some sort of mercy.
Burnt and bruised we huddled together trying to use each other as a shield to ward off the blows. Suddenly Paul's voice burst out.
"Stop, Nora, Stop," One could tell that he was deeply hurt.
But the punishment continued. The why and wherefore were absent and there was no reason given, just the crack of the whip.
Nora was the master, the mistress and the great goddess of this cruel craft and we were feeling her wrath. She used every ounce of her force and it was a healthy brutal force that drove her on. Sweat poured down her forehead as she beat us into submission.
"Whoever is left standing, may have me, that is if he or she can have enough strength left to make love to me," she gasped and huffed these words with an ironic tone touched with bitterness.
We were all crushed by the enraged woman and for the first time we were witnesses and sufferers of her terrible caprices. Who would escape and conquer her?
Suddenly the rope snapped and Jack Dill fell away from the group a few feet away. He was completely exhausted by his effort. For his great achievement he received two slaps in the face with the last force of Nora's whip.
Jack struggled to his feet. His mouth was bleeding and he looked like a boxer who had just gone down for the count. His legs were woozy and he staggered around like a drunk.
Another whip lash circled about his neck and dragged him back to the floor. He was breathing hard and his dazed eyes showed determination and hate for his aggressor.
Once more he rose to his feet and this time he advanced toward the fierce tigress. Nora stood her ground and watched the crippled sailor trace her out. She was defiant in her stance and her chin was jutting out like the prow of her proud vessel. Jack zigged-zagged like a hopeless alcoholic and came within hitting distance.
Stevedore Jack Dill, broken by the blows he had taken, was gazing into the flaming eyes of Nora Rugt. He was trying to read their meaning, but his mind was in pain. Perhaps he had temporarily lost his wits. The adversaries contemplated each other as though they were seeing one another for the first time.
Suddenly Nora spit like a viper and her hot saliva found its mark in the middle of Jack's face. The sailor lifted his hand and we felt that Nora had met her end. But the hand remained surprised and never came crashing down.
The moment was imprinted in our minds as though a flash bulb had clicked in a red room.