Chapter 2
When Joyce Wilson next awakened, she was lying on a mattress, unable to do much of anything.
Her hands were tied and her mouth was gagged as she lay there in a darkened room. It took her several seconds to realize that she was in a boat, and as she cocked her head upward slightly, she could see through a porthole, observing the passing night as the boat continued to move along the water.
She had no more an opportunity to blink her eyes open when a strong, bulky Negro man in a sailor's cap and a form-fitting yellow T-shirt surfaced.
"Hope you're resting comfortably," he smiled, speaking with a Caribbean accent.
"Where am I?" she asked in a terror-striken tone once he had removed the gag from her mouth. "My folks will be worried to death. What did you do to me?"
"We just gave you a little something to knock you out," he smiled.
"Are you the man who grabbed hold of me?"
"Yes, I am."
"But where's Don?" she asked in a worried tone.
"You needn't worry about Don," the Negro man laughed jovially. "He's on the boat and resting very comfortably."
"Did you tie him up, too?"
"Of course not," the Negro laughed again. "He's one of us."
"You're kidnapping me," she began to sob. "What are you gonna do to me?"
"Just sit tight and relax," the man said. "Take these pills."
He removed a container of pills from his pocket, opening the bottle, then removing two pills and shoving them up next to her mouth.
"Just swallow these and everything will be fine," he said.
"What are these?"
"They're just sleeping pills. When you awake, we'll be at our destination."
"My folks will be worried sick," she cried.
"Don't worry," he chuckled. "As long as you're a good girl, nothing is gonna happen to you. We'll just keep you around for a little while. So swallow these pills.
Joyce recognized that she had no alternative other than to swallow the pills. After she gulped them down, the Negro placed a gag over her mouth again, just in case she were to awaken and would begin making noise. It wasn't that he was worried about her being overheard by anyone else. After all, they were at sea, miles away from anyone or anything. It was just that they did not want to be disturbed by a girl's constant sobbing.
She did not awaken for the second time until she was ashore. She blinked her eyes open and looked around ever so curiously as she tried to determine where she was. It was a small but neatly furnished room with green paint and no windows. It was impossible for her to tell what time of the day or night it happened to be, or just where this room was located.
Her next shocking revelation was that she was clad only in her lace panties and bra. Somebody had taken off her dress, and there she was, lying on top of a huge, circular, comfortable bed.
Under ordinary circumstances she could have had a nap and enjoyed the luxury of a lovely, neatly furnished room, but these were no ordinary circumstances. Something strange was happening and just the thought of the whole thing left her with a sharp, jarring sensation in the pit of her stomach.
Just when she was about to burst into tears of desperation, the door opened and a broad-shouldered, distinguished, dark-haired man with a beard walked inside the room.
He looked for all intent and purposes like a college professor, and was even dressed like one, wearing light blue slacks and an immaculate, white, long-sleeved shirt with a blue tie.
"Good afternoon, Miss Wilson," the man said in a soothing, mellow tone. "Or better yet, I'll call you Joyce. We like being informal around the island."
"We're still on the island?" Joyce asked. "You mean, we're back in Paradise Island? I remember traveling on the water."
"Don't get your hopes up," the man said, sliding into a chair situated next to the bed. "No, Joyce, darling. We're on a private little island. All I'll tell you is that it's somewhere in the Caribbean but nobody could ever find us here. We're lost in the wildreness, and that's just the way I want it. It gives me the opportunity to conduct some of my little experiements without any interference from outside sources."
"What kind of experiments?" her body tensed.
At first she had been so overwhelmed with surprise over the strange things that had been happening to her that it didn't even dawn on her that here was a grown man who must have been at least in his middle thirties staring at her in an almost completely nude state. Never in her life had she been confronted with anything like this. On those occasions when she had gone out on dates with young men, she would allow them no more than a few passionate French kisses and nothing beyond. On every one of those occasions she had worn a dress or slacks. Her mother had admonished her about going out on a date wearing anything as provocative as even a short skirt, telling her just how much of a risk she was running as far as exciting a young man was concerned.
So here she was, lying ever so helplessly in the middle of the bed, clad in nothing more than her lace white panties and matching bra. At first the man had been casual enough, but now she could see the way that he was eyeing every curvaceous part of her smooth, well-tapered body.
"My name is Harold Graves," the man said, smiling wryly as his eyes focused on her jutting, voluptuous breasts, then on her sleek, exceedingly trim legs. "As for my experiments, you'll learn to enjoy them in time. You're a virgin, aren't you?"
"How dare you ask me such a question?" she replied gaspingly. "What do you want, anyway?"
"I researched you well in advance before deciding to make my move," Harold Graves explained. "I have people checking at certain hotels. That young man Don is a very good operator. He did all the research, then finally got an opportunity to make a move."
"I can hardly believe that somebody who seemed that nice could be so terrible," she began to sob.
"Now don't get your dander up," Harold Graves laughed. "Everything is going to be just fine, provided you don't lose your cool. We have ways of dealing with people who are uncooperative. You met Orlando on the boat. He can be very persuasive when he wants to be."
"You mean the Caribbean?"
"Yes, that's right. He's a former wrestler and he's an excellent weight lifter. He's very good at rough stuff. Of course, he wouldn't have to use any more than a little bit of restraint on you before you'd get the point. You understand what you're up against, my dear?"
"Yes," she replied almost inaudibly.
"Good, then it's time for us to start on our little experiment. Before I start, I might as well get a little bit comfortable."
The longer that Harold Graves talked, the more confused that Joyce Wilson became, with one exception. It was only too obvious that he had grand designs on her body, and there she was, her tanned, almost naked body providing the perfect temptation for him. She kept cursing under her breath at the person who had undressed her and subjected her to such an indignity of lying here in front of this bearded, all-too-confident man.
As she lay there wondering what was going to happen next, Joyce watched with accelerating surprise as Harold Graves got up from the chair he had been sitting on and began to ever so matter-of-factly remove his clothes.
The thing she couldn't get over about Harold Graves was that every move he made was very much like a college professor. Every statement that emanated from him as well as every action that he perpetrated was done with a certain type of clinical casualness. He was even undressing in the same manner, methodically removing his tie, then taking off his shirt.
Several times she turned her head away with embarrassment, hating to have to face the inevitable of seeing a man naked for the first time in her life. She got to thinking about her girl friends at school and how they were always telling her how much of a prude she was. She wondered how some of them would be reacting under the same circumstances. They probably would be as terrified as she, Joyce speculated, when she recognized that none of these girls would be dealing with a stranger. Here was a man who was unknown to her just five minutes earlier, and now there he was shaking his hips back and forth as he ever so eagerly began to slide his shorts down his legs. As he got ever closer to the point of finishing his undressing, this broad-shouldered, muscular man was attaining a state of ever-heightening enthusiasm.
As she stared at his thick, naked cock, she began to sob once more, throwing her head into her hands.
"I can't believe it, I can't believe it's for real," she sighed.
"Get off that crying bit," he said, demonstrating his impatience and disgust. "We can't stand cry-babies around this place. You wouldn't want me to bring Orlando in here, would you?"
"Of course not."
"All right then. So just cool it, girl."
His admonition suddenly brought an end to her tears. Even though Joyce was doing her best to somehow regain her composure, she was finding it difficult. Her shoulders and arms began to uncontrollably tremble, and as she saw her ardent pursuer moving ever closer toward the bed, she once again was unable to suppress a few tears.
Harold Graves licked his lips suggestively as he slid his naked body on top of the bed. Joyce instinctively cringed, recognizing that the inevitable was at hand.
She looked down at his long, naked cock, which appeared ready to launch into immediate action. Every time that she stared at his swelling, blood-engorged member, she wondered just how badly he would hurt her with it.
Hzrold Graves reached down and made a quick grab for her panties.
As his fingers held on tightly to the elastic waistband, Joyce heaved a deep, nervous sigh, then blurted out:
"Please, don't!"
"Keep quiet if you know what's good for you," he said.
"Please, don't take them off."
"I get the feeling that a man's never seen you naked before. Is that rightr
"Just the family doctor. Please, don't. Ohhh, please, don't."
"Enough of this crap."
Harold Graves' face suddenly became flushed with anger. As it reddened, he reached out and delivered a stinging slap with his right hand that caught Joyce on the side of the face. It wasn't what one could call the kind of robust slap that would project acute pain. It was just enough to snap her back to where Harold Graves wanted her. Once again he was imparting to her the knowledge that she was in a subservient position and had no business of bucking him in any way.
The slap accomplished its stinging purpose, prompting her to stop her sobbing. Her sensitive blue eyes widened as she stared at him. He held on tightly to her panties for a few moments, laughing with unabated joy as he teased his virginal captive. After snapping the elastic waistband against her stomach a few times, Harold decided that it was time to strip her.
He began to slide her panties down her sleek, trim, brown thighs. As he listened to the sounds of the panties making contact with her legs, his cock hardened that much more and his hairy, lust-inflated testicles began to tingle.
"You really are some little piece of ass," Harold gulped. "I'm gonna really teach you a few things about life, things you should have learned a long time ago. My, oh, my, to think that that beautiful body of yours has gone untouched for so long. And without any adventures."
He kept on tugging at her panties, sliding them down her legs.
Harold brought his action to a halt as the panties pushed past her upper thighs.