Chapter 4

Damsels in Despair

It was not my first time in the ship's brig. Rankin had chained me here before casting me adrift. I knew the heavy irons were a sort of window dressing, an infliction by which virtuous young ladies were shown the error in their insistence upon remaining virtuous. My wrists were joined, my ankles were joined, and an iron collar around my neck was attached to the hull by a heavy length of chain which actually permitted a good deal of freedom. But the weight of the heavy irons made that unattractive. Rankin made quite certain that any girl he put in the brig would not forget she was a prisoner.

I was not alone in that prison. The girl with me was one I remembered coming on board with a handsome blonde Swede. She was, however, a direct contrast to the tall blonde man, being of only medium height, with dark features, black hair, and flashing dark eyes. Her name was Margot, and she was a heavily chained as I. And as naked.

"Right after they put you in that dingy and cast you adrift," she told me heatedly, "I was informed that I would be expected to spread my legs that any man on board might 'enjoy me' anytime he wished." She sounded disgusted. "I refused, of course. That's when Rankin threw me in here. I'll stay chained up like this until I agree to spread my legs, they told me. But it's horrible in here."

"Well, at least you can get out by saying the word," I ventured.

"Well, that might have been but there was also a deadline. It passed yesterday. Rankin has hinted that I would be whipped before the whole crew. Perhaps I should have given in."

I thought about the fact that the crew could have just tied her down and taken her all they wanted, but didn't say a thing. Perhaps Margot was thinking the same.

"When I came on board, I was prepared to go to bed with Eric. And I was even looking forward to it. But when they ordered that Kathy girl to strip and then made her dance around as they whipped at her behind, I knew this wasn't the kind of crowd I would like. And Eric was just as bad as the rest. When they handcuffed you and cast you adrift in that boat, I told Eric I didn't want him touching me again. That's when they picked on me to be the next one to strip and become everyone's plaything. I Refused and here I am." She still sounded defiant.

I sighed and rested as best I could in the heavy chains and hard bench. My mind flashed back to earlier that very morning when Rankin has forced Marjory into a deal she didn't want. I could still remember the steps going up to her bedroom, hard against my bare feet. And the way she stripped to reveal a very good body. Rankin even made comments, crude, to be sure, but there was admiration behind his tone.

I had to stand by as an observer, unable to flee or to do a thing to stop the coming whipping of the woman who held all of us on Palm Island enthralled. When she casually tossed aside the panties, she turned expectantly to the three men crowding around.

"Beg for it," Rankin said with a hiss, enjoying his domination over this woman. Marjory swallowed hard and tried to keep the hate and anger out of her voice.

"Please, Mr. Teller, I wish you to thrash me. I want you to fasten me so I can't get away, then whip or cane my bare skin in whatever way may give you pleasure." Her voice fell silent until she added, for good measure, "Please whip me as hard as you can."

It was Rankin's day! I watched the naked Marjory step to the spot where I once stood and I watched Rankin use the controls with an expert hand. Very soon the beautiful Marjory stood with wrists tight strapped and raised above her head. She looked so beautiful and so brave, I longed to cry.

I have told of other whippings but the wounding of Marjory's skin is something too scared to recount. Rankin was a real bastard throughout, testing this instrument or that, or concentrating on one portion of the lovely curves and then another. Strangely he refrained from thrashing Marjory up between her legs. It was Marjory herself who won the show. I simply do not know what force or power she possessed that enabled her to stand throughout multiple cuts and slashes of canes and crops with her cheek pressed hard against one raised arm, accepting agony with only the trembling of muscles beneath her skin. Never once did she scream. Again and again the leather etched its marks against her flesh.

When it was over, Rankin kept his word. Marjory was released and escorted back to her office. That was all.

Rankin's hobby is the punishment of girls. He adores whipping us and feeds hungrily upon our nakedness. I cannot explain Rankin, but he is probably right in his assertion that, if other men had the money, they would do the same. Rankin loves to tell the only gauge of anything is the bottom line. If that is so, a girl should stay away from any man who has more than a hundred dollars in the bank.

The following day I was released from the hateful brig and allowed to step out in the sunshine without handcuffs or rope. I would once have gloried in the freedom but a girl on Rankin's yacht has no thought of glory but only of what comes next. The man who released me told me to go to Rankin's office. I kissed the still defiant Margot and did as I was told.

"Did you enjoy walking up here, Celie?" Rankin asked by way of greeting. "It's a lovely day. And it's better than the brig."

"Yes."

"I suppose you realize you could walk right back down again? And this time find a couple more chains to keep you amused. That is, if you don't come up with some more answers?"

"I suspected that."

"Well, sweetheart, there's only so many girls a man can screw. We rounded up those four little pretties Marjory hated to part with. I don't give them any choice, I tie them down. The only reason they didn't get in the brig was that they seem pretty well resigned. Marjory did a good job of breaking them in."

"You really are a bastard, Rankin! What have you got saved up for me?"

"I'm going to have one of the boys print the word 'AVAILABLE' across your belly and then you can mingle with the guests and enjoy yourself. There's only one simple little thing by which you'll pay for your room and board, whenever I or one of my crew or guests wants you to lay down and spread your legs, you'll do it. And you'll do it as though you're getting a real good deal, no sobs or pouts. What do you say to that, Celie?"

"If I say no, do I get put in another dingy?"

"Worse than that, honey, you get to walk the plank. But before that happens you'll get tied down to a hatch cover and get yourself pierced by every man on the ship. I'm offering you a pretty good deal, considering."

"Considering what?"

"Considering you can't escape. Considering I own every bit of you. And considering I'm going to sell you to the highest bidder, along with the other four. When I get around to it, sweetheart. Now, honey, call me a bastard again and I'll hang you up by your thumbs."

I wanted to cry. So much for my virginity! But out of pure helplessness I had come a long way since that first time when my refusals had put me in a dingy. Now the awful choice Rankin gave me didn't seem as bad as it would have before my little visit to Palm Island. If a girl is pierced once, she might as well get pierced twice. Or for that matter, twenty times. And if this reasoning was prompted by the lingering influence of Palm Island, there was nothing I could do about it anyway. I looked Rankin in the eye and said, tonelessly, "Very well, Mr. Teller, I'll accept your terms. Do you wish me to lay down for you?"

Rankin's yacht was magnificent, and the guests were enjoying themselves. I was gathered into the group and promptly raped by several of the men, and then as I was plied with drinks and conversation, I learned that ever girl present was expected to make herself available to all in the same manner as I. A small ceremony was enacted with me as the leading lady. My hands were handcuffed behind my back while a member of the crew painted the word Rankin had promised across my belly. If ever a girl knew herself available, I did then.

There were about ten couples and because half the girls had already capitulated there was no pressure on the other half to join the shameful sisters of which I was one. But I could tell they were scared. All knew about Margot in the brig, and about me. They had witnessed Marjory's girls, all tied up and naked, as they were escorted aboard the ship. I was told they were imprisoned in a lower cabin where they were kept tightly bound all the time and could consider their future. While the females were not enjoying themselves all that much, every male on the yacht was having the time of his life. They not only had the girls they had brought aboard, but every other female on the ship. After my tummy was labeled, my wrists were left handcuffed behind my back in a way to evoke lust in the loins of ever male. The result was that male arms were constantly helping me to the deck where I spread my legs and pretended to enjoy their favors and admire their prowess. I abandoned sarcasm alone with pouting and sulking. I felt so damned ashamed of my actions that I actually considered jumping into the ocean with the sharks. But I can't profess that such action appealed enough to me to be serious about it. One look over the rail and I backed away. In any case, the handcuffs had been such a success they left them on my wrists until the novelty wore off and I was voted the most popular girl on the ship. If I had been a nymphomaniac, it would have been wonderful.

There was fun and games. The games mostly involved a female having to draw a number from a hat and whichever of us got the lucky number was then sentenced to be bound in some disgusting fashion and whipped throughout the day. These whippings were never what you would think. There was nothing ritualistic, no formal ceremony to mark the infliction of pain upon an innocent girl, no drum roll. But, having gotten the unfortunate girl secured, a whip was hung on her somewhere and every passing male was allowed to use it. Of necessity these male attentions were rationed to each. Each guest or member of the crew was allowed to strip the unfortunate girl twice a day, enough to keep the immobilized maiden in constant pain and a dither of anxiety. On my first time I did not draw the fatal number and was privileged to watch the girl who did. She was one of the number who had not accepted ravishment but in this matter of fun and games there were no alternative, m this case her name was Lucy. She was seized in good-natured humor on the part of the males, and planted erect in the middle of a clear space on the deck, and told to take off her clothes while we all watched. When she refused to strip, the job was done for her by two members of the crew, while other males present cheered and came out with disgusting comments. Lucy was then placed on a hatch cover equipped with metal rings no doubt designed for this purpose. Her ankles were bound well apart, as were her knees. She was then forced to crouch while her wrists and forearms were tied between her thighs which left her forehead on the deck and her bottom pointed prettily pointed upward. It was a cruel posture and when a thin cane was dropped before Lucy's anguished eyes, we all knew what was about to happen. Rankin made a delightful speech. He let all men know the limits but also insisted that all should give the girl up to that full limit. He also made it clear that if any man wished to screw her while her bottom was marked with scarlet lines and sticking up in the air, he was welcome.

Lucy was tugging at the bonds but could hardly move. When Rankin went on to point out that her large breasts could be striped on their sides, she started to cry. Rankin picked up the cane and promised a demonstration to illustrate the true functions of the curves on which a girl sat down.

It was almost as though I, too, was bound upon the deck. I could feel Lucy's horror and was well aware of how wickedly stretched and tight was that bottom. It would hurt twice as bad as if Lucy took her punishment standing up. Rankin made a big deal of selecting his stance, making some trial swishes to make the cane whine in evil promise, and then cut squarely across the maiden curves. Lucy was too shocked by the pain to do more than gasp and stare with wide eyes straight ahead. Finally a pathetic whine came from her tight mouth.

The thin line across her bottom slowly turned red. Rankin bowed to the assembly, dropped the can beside the girl, and stalked away to his office. The crowd slowly dispersed to let Lucy await stroke number two.

But she was not left alone for long. Throughout the day there were males visiting her often enough so that she always had a fresh scarlet mark forming on her skin. And often the man would take his two strokes, sometimes fiercely savage in their intensity, then avail himself of the up turned bottom to implant his phallus within her sheath. As her bottom grew more and more sore, her cries grew in intensity whenever a male body was thrusting into her sheath and banging his body against her bruised bottom.

After witnessing this display, the other girls who had been holding out gave in and became a part of the ship-wide orgy. Kindly males held glasses to my lips or fed me sandwiches, and always admired my handcuffed wrists, which several admitted shamefully gave them the most rigid erections of their life. I worked hard at being polite and receptive of male humor. And I never failed to lower myself to the deck whenever any male indicated it was his wish. This latter function was helped by the fact that several other girls were always available. The voyage of the Rankin's Pride was a real fun thing ... So long as you were a man.

I wanted to stay away from Lucy, but there was a fascination about her predicament which drew me in her direction throughout the day. Often Lucy screamed but all the girls pretended not to hear. And when we looked with shamed eyes upon her punished bottom, we discovered and every increasing crisscross of stripes. Many of the lash marks extended down to her thighs, and there was some marks on each breast. When she broken-heartedly rejoined the party after her time was up, she became the belle of the ball and found herself the object of much male attention. Some of the men seemed to get very excited when she had to lay on her tortured bottom on the hard deck for their carnal attentions. And she made no attempt to contain her cries of pain when a male was thrusting inside her and pushing her bottom hard against the wood.

I was grateful for the attention she was getting because it made the males a little less interested in my, my handcuffs, and my pussy.

Lucy was a shy little girl and the luck of the draw had proven traumatic to her. Other girls of larger size and stamina endured ill fortunate with whatever grace they could muster. A girl named Nancy was a case in point. There was no whip for Nancy, but instead a prettily executed tying up job which left her sitting prominently on the deck with one ankle bound to the opposite knee and her wrists tightly bound in front, then tied down in the knee hollow of her leg. She was left in the total frustration of being a constant witness to the manner in which she was tied but not being able to reach a single knot. She spent most of the time trying to employ her teeth against the tight and neatly tied cords which held her wrists. Nancy's punishment was simply embarrassment, and a blush from shame she felt at the male remarks directed against her. Some playful tried to encourage her to untie herself, hinting that since all the ropes and knots were in plain sight, she should be able to get her teeth on something.

She took the comments with wry good humor, returning quip for quip, and sometimes in disgust rolling on to her back to display a tangle of arms and legs, along with a more intimate view of her sex.

Megan was an auburn haired beauty some said was Rankin's ex-mistress. She was somewhat older than the rest of us and enjoyed the distinction of wearing a minimum of clothes. It was understood she occupied the role of house mother or matron, and was empowered to either inflict or alleviate punishment. She provided a willing shoulder on which a girl might cry, and a lot of sage advice which was mostly to the effect we might just as well make the best of a bad job because there was no way we were going to escape. No one seemed certain whether Megan was to be sold at auction like all the rest.

Like all the rest I was forced to sleep as best I could with the party going on around. If I found the noise too much, I could go out on the deck and curl up on anything I found. I have forgotten how many days passed before one evening when Megan handcuffed my wrists once more behind my back and told me, with a forceful hand on my bare arm, that she wanted me to spend the night in the brig with Margot, who was still clutching at virtue. She was becoming increasingly morbid over her solitary confinement and the weight of irons on her. Megan confided in me that if Margot continued her rebellion against the system, she was going to get a flogging, naked and secured to the rigging in the fashion of ancient days. Megan thrust me inside the brig and clanked the iron door behind me.

I found Margot as heavily ironed as before, and with firmly set jaw in a determination not to give in. I was thankful I had not been promised a flogging should my errand fail. Miserably I said, "Hi, Margot, it's me again. They've taken away my hands so I can't play with you. I'm terribly sorry."

"I take it you've given in to them?" The tone was far from friendly.

I felt a bitch and could feel a blush. "I'm doing everything they tell me to," I admitted. "I'm here to tell you a girl survives. In its way, it's not so bad."

"So you're playing Judas Goat? I'm ashamed of you, Celie, I thought you had more guts."

Standing on one foot, I raised the other to the bench so as to provide my companion with a clear inspection of my vagina. "Look at it, Margot, you know how it's been used since they took me out of here. I've lost count of how many times I've been screwed, but it doesn't look any different. Does it?"

"Only proves nature's been kind to you. I'm surprised it's not swollen and red."

I returned my foot to the floor. If I had had hands, I would have thrown my arms around her neck and comforted us both. But now I simply wiggled my shoulders and said, "You can call me a Judas Goat if you want, Margot, but I don't see any sense in your remaining in this iron cage with all those beastly irons fastened on you everywhere. I hate those irons and I know you do. Why don't you accept the inevitable and walk back into life?"

"It isn't inevitable, not if I hold out long enough."

"I'm suppose to tell you that if you refuse to obey, you're going to be flogged with everyone watching and getting a good look at your nakedness. A flogging is terrible and you won't heal from it for weeks." I tried not to make it sound too awful but I did want to make her think about what she was really facing.

I saw her wince and sensed what an awful time she'd had locked inside this metal box. I knew that the heavy irons on her body wore down more than just her body, they were hard on the mind, too.

"Flogged? Isn't that when they strip the skin from your back with some horrible kind of whip until you become unconscious?" Margot looked nervous. "If I'm going to be flogged anyway, there's no point in surrendering."

"I think if you'd be obedient, Margot, they'd forget the flogging. I haven't been flogged so I don't know what they mean by it. Perhaps it's just another word for being whipped."

I watched Margot set her jaw even more firmly, as if the threat simply made her more resolved to fight them. Her voice was bitter, "Very well, Celie, you can tell them they can flog me. I will not allow myself to be violated by all sorts of men I don't even know. If you would have held out the way I'm doing, we would win out. But you're all such cowards."

"We want to live."

"Well, I don't. Not on their terms. I'll stay like this until doomsday if that's what they want."

I gazed at the poor, chained girl, wondering what made her so different from me. I saw myself fighting for survival and a bleeding back was not a part of it. I was wondering what to say next when Margot gave me some hint of why she felt the way she did.

"Sex is beastly," she said with heat. "Men pushing that horrible object inside what a girl has. It is obscene. Celie, can't you see that?"

"But a girl's pussy is made for that purpose!" I cried. After all, sex could be fun, too, if it was with a man you really loved.

Margot snorted. "The whole thing is disgusting."

"But don't you expect to fall in love some day and want your man inside you? Margot, dear, when it's done properly it's wonderful."

The poor girl was busy fighting her irons. Her tone now was that of a speaker on a platform, "Don't you silly creatures realize this so called falling in love is nothing more than natural urges. All that romantic crap about meeting your dream man is just that, crap! Moonlight and roses are nothing more than tricks men use to get passed a girl's defenses."

"But ... "

"No buts! The act is terrible! Celie, do try and have some sense."

I sighed. But I honestly did not want to see this girl hung up in some horrible fashion to have her skin striped with some cat-o-nine-tails. I tried again, "But, darling, what about love? People do fall in love, don't they? And then they do this thing you're so set against."

"Love is a trap!" Margot was running ahead at full steam. "It's nothing but a reaction of our glands! Men are terrible."

"Honest, Margot, it isn't as bad as you think."

"Never." The word was spoken quietly for a change but that made it all the more absolute.

"Margot, it's not that bad. There's a party going on up there. If you just forget that some girls would call it rape, and try to enjoy it. Some of the men aren't too rough."

It was no use. Margot won the encounter hands down. In the morning I was taken from the brig and given back my hands while she remained in the iron prison with an even shorter tether from her collar to the wall. It was on that day I was given permission to visit Marjory's four slave girls.

Elsie, Gloria, Janet and Natalie were far better off than Margot. The wrists of each girl had been crossed behind her back and tightly bound, not because Rankin was short of handcuffs, but simply to give them hope and something to do. It appeared they were for Rankin's use only until we reached that part of the world were girls could be sold at auction without problems. Enough of Palm Island's influence remained, just as with myself, to make their plight bearable and to endure Rankin's carnal thrusts. I was the only one with arms and was the one to embrace each before telling of the on-going party and of the selection from the hat for daily public whipping.

The poor girls had been prisoners for so long that being bound and locked in a cabin on a ship was not bothering them as much as it would have some other girls. They laughed in saying that they knew they could never get their hands free but in trying to untie each other kept them constantly amused. And, since Rankin managed to violate all four of them each day, they had nothing to complain about. All of us longed to return to Palm Island but all of us now knew this was no more than a dream.

They did speculate about being sold and what the man who bought them would do to them. But with a philosophy born from not knowing what punishment you would suffer each day on Palm Island, they shrugged it off and something they would just have to wait and see.

The next day it was me who drew the dreaded number from the hat.

My ordeal was obscene but relatively painless. My hands were tied behind my back. I was then laid on my back on the deck to get my ankles noosed to spread my legs outrageously far apart and raised high. My bottom was actually raised off the wood deck so that I was laying on my shoulders and bound arms. My pussy was wide open for all to see, including me, who got a better view of my own pussy than most girls do. Any man or woman who wished could play with that wide-open pussy and, if he were clever, screw me while I lay there.

I suppose my punishment could have been worse, but after an hour or two of that exposure and some rough treatment from male fingers, I wasn't all that sure. It was a terrible way to be tied but my principal problem was the seemingly endless parade of male hands and finger exploring my private place. This constant interest in my sex kept me constantly aroused, a condition which occasionally resulted in a most unsatisfactory orgasm. Rankin added to the fun by coming to visit and doing the same things to me. Thoughtfully, he produced a candle, the butt end of which he inserted within my sex. With a smile he put a match to the wick, explaining that it would be a long time before the flame burned down to my flesh. In the meantime I would enjoy the benefit of a trickle of hot wax on my skin. It was a refinement admired by all.

I went through agonies watching that damned flame. At first I fought the ropes that held me but that only caused more hot wax to run down the candle and scold my tender flesh. I squealed more than once. And that candle stopped no one from teasing my sensitive parts, some people even tapping the candle so they could see wax running down the side and onto my sensitive flesh. Before long there was a layer of cooling wax firmly embedded in my pubic hair and covering my clit.

I watched the flame burn closer to my pussy with considerable fear. I was sure when the flame began to burn I would scream myself hoarse. And the thought flashed through my mind that serious damage would be done to my sex, so much so that I might never be able to use it for sex again. I was scared.

At the last moment Megan came to inspect our master's work. She deemed the burning candle had given enough mental agony, and withdrew it from my lips and tossed it overboard.

If I had ever loved anyone, I loved her then. The flogging of Margot was a Tour de Force, an even to quicken every pulse aboard the Rankin's Pride. One of the crew even had a drum by which to mark the steps of the doomed girl as she walked to her fate. Margot was minus restraints for the first time in days. She gazed in horror at the sea of male and female faces as she was led to where she would be punished. She fought valiantly as her arms were raised for the wrists to be tight tied to leave her almost on her toes and beautifully for the sentenced Rankin read aloud in somber tones. It announced-that the naked prisoner had committed this crime and that, refusing to be friendly with guest and crew, etc. She was thus condemned to receive twenty strokes with a cat-o-nine-tails. Should she chose to faint she would be revived with water. Rankin added his hope that she would benefit from the correction.

Margot defeated them all, enduring the first terrible stroke across her back, a stroke which left its wound and shed blood. Instead of the expected scream, she raised herself from the deck by bound wrists and managed to turn and look back at the master to whom she now belonged. In a loud, clear voice she proclaimed surrender and promised to be the most obedient slave girl ever. Recognizing sincerity, Rankin cut her down and told her curtly she would get the awful word painted on her belly the same as me, and she'd better make it good. Poor Margot knelt and kissed his foot.

Later Margot threw her arms around my neck and whispered, "You were right, dear, I should have listened. And now I'm so terribly ashamed." There was a pause before she added, "Is my back terribly cut?"

I have to admit that Margot became like all the rest of us. She had been for all of us a symbol of what was right and proper. Now she was no longer ironed and placing her smarting back on the deck to appease the lust of men the same as the lesser girls who lacked her courage. But I asked myself about the benefit of courage when it led only to Rankin's irons and Rankin's whip. Poor Margot ceased to be a symbol and was now just a girl.

I think it was the next day when I was called to Rankin's office to stand submissively before his desk, while his dour inspection stripped me ten times naked. He didn't offer a seat and his tone was crisp as he conceded, "You're a good girl, Celie, a good fuck and you do what you're told. It won't be too long now before we put our surplus females on the auction block. You're scheduled to go with the rest. But I'm wondering if you might not prefer to stay on the ship as my personal property." His eyes roved up and down my nakedness. "I can't promise you anything, Celie, girl. I'd be keeping you for my own amusement so obviously you'll get your ass whipped now and then. Along with some other things pretty much like we've been doing here. Anyway, I'm offering you a choice: the auction block to be sold as a slave girl, or staying here with me. It's pretty much between the devil you know and the devil you don't. What do you say, kid?"

"You've got Megan, why would you want me?"

"Don't ask no questions, honey, and you won't get no lies."

"You've been mean to all of us girls, Mr. Teller. I'm still remembering that dingy. I'd like to take my chance on the auction block. Please don't be offended."

"I figured you'd chose the block, and I'm not offended, girlie. Old Rankin don't get offended easily. Anyway, there's a little time yet before some old boy gets to buy you." His dismal was a curt, "Have a nice day."

My day was ruined. I now felt certain I had made a wrong choice. When I thought of the kind of men who would buy a slave girl, a shiver ran down my spine. I could have kicked myself. Rankin had been mean enough to all of us so that being a permanent prisoner here wasn't too attractive, either. I comforted myself with the thought that a fresh and different captivity might be an improvement. I longed for Palm Island with all my heart.

Rankin had a thing for rituals. We all knew some girl was going to get it when guests and crew were lined up on a far rail while a plank was thrust over the side and made secure to the deck. Rankin took the opportunity to make a speech. "This here voyage has been a fun thing for all of us," he proclaimed. "Most of our little gals have played alone and behaved the way little gals should. But four of my old friends have brought aboard four of the most damned fool females I ever did see. They got their legs clamped together tight and think they're too good to let us have fun with them." Rankin beamed on us all. "But we ain't got no more time to fool with four females who think their pussy is their private property. These four gals is pure waste." Again he paused dramatically before adding, "And all of us know what we do with waste aboard a ship."

There were stirrings and whispering among the guests. The crew couldn't have cared less, but I noticed four young women clutching the arms of four male escorts as though reassuring themselves of the protection. My heart bled for each.

"We all know what the old time pirates did with gals who wouldn't try to please," Rankin continued zestfully. "They made them walk the plank, that's what they did with them. And that's we're going to do here, aboard the Rankin's Pride today. As far as I know we've only got four examples of females who don't know how females should act. Since we all know the names of these dumb broads, I'm now asking their escorts to tie his gal's hands behind her back, and shove them forward for us all to see. I know you've all got a bit of rope, so go to it."

Four young women leaped like startled rabbits from the audience and fled swiftly out of sight. But Rankin had that figured. "Go to it, boys. Track the little fillies down and drag them back her by the hair." Rankin laughed. "Don't imagine we'll have long to wait."

There was nowhere the girls could hide. We heard their squeals and screams as each girl was caught and dragged back to the awaiting plank. Each of the virtuous maidens fought like fury but were soon conquered and quickly standing before, naked and with bound hands behind their backs. I thought they were foolish not to have done as the rest of us. Surrender isn't all that bad. Especially when compared to what awaited these girls.

But they had made their choice and would not pay the price. Horror showed in the face of each girl as she stared at the plank. Next to it stood a crewman with a long pike at ready.

Rankin now practiced some more of his sardonic humor. Waving to one of the four girls, he said in amused tones, "Come on over, and walk out on that there plank just to show the folks it will hold a girl's weight. Go out as far as you like. And if you fall in, we'll put you out ... This first time. All we want is a demonstration."

The poor girl was almost shaking with fear. She was also frantically tugging at tied wrists in a way I knew all too well. Since she lacked the will to do it herself, Rankin picked her up and placed her on the plank with the Pacific Ocean below. She immediately stepped back on the back but was instantly replaced and this time found herself a couple of feet further out. And this time the man with the spiked pole thrust the pointed end hard into her back. When her timid young feet reached the final limit of wood, the pole made a single brutal thrust and, with a loud scream, she fell to whatever was waiting for her down below.

Rankin was as good as his word. Almost in the same moment the bound and naked girl stepped off the plank, a crewman armed with ropes jumped off after her. In a minute the poor girl was pulled back on deck, spitting out sea water and coughing. She was soon judged to be in good condition and was told to stand beside her three companions, all of whom seemed to me wanted to change their minds. But whenever they opened their mouths were told to keep quiet if they didn't want to be gagged. The wicked game no got properly underway.

This time Rankin's pointing to another girl, who instantly turned and ran for her life in a useless escape attempt. She was dragged back, screaming and struggling. Two crew members held her arms as she was placed on the plank, and one continued to hold her tight while the other tied a bandage over her eyes. Another man performed the same task for the three girls awaiting the same fate. The spiked pole did its work and, step by faltering step, the maiden soon to die made her way steadily toward empty space. As she fell, she screamed again and again until all present heard the fateful splash of a girl's naked body meeting its end among the sharks. The remaining three could not stand the stress. They had heard the encouragement of the man with the spiked pole and her screams. Blindfolded they could not see to run, and with hands bound behind their backs there was little they could do but follow the awful course of Rankin's sentence. But now each in her own way, speaking into darkness, they promised to renounce their principles and offered their bodies to any man who wanted them. They turned distraught features from side to side in search of pity but the audience of standing spellbound by the execution it had just witness and the ones about to be performed. The poor girl moaning her promises was carried and placed on the plank where the spike instantly found the flesh between the bottom cheeks and pressed hard there. Fear of impalement within drove the unfortunately girl to make step after step until she, too, joined her companion in the sea.

"Two down and two to go," proclaimed Rankin. Number three was pushed forward after refusing to answer her name. She fell to her knees, trembling with fear, and refused to walk even against the spike. But she, too, was only human, and under the thrust of steel was pushed to the end of the wooden plank. Her scream was the loudest of all.

Number four was the one who had first taken the walk off the end and was still dripping wet. She became a wild thing, carrying neither for blindfold or bonds, kicking and lunging in blind despair. It did no good, the crewmen picked her up bodily and placed her on the plank of doom. With the splash as her body hit the water and her choked off final scream, Rankin Teller's entertainment was at an end.

Marjory's four maiden's had been brought from their cabin to witness the price of virginity, and were now taken back. The rest of us, in a state of pure horror, were getting ready to disperse, probably to resume the continual party. Each girl's face reflected her horror at what had happened and the thought that it might happen to her.

It was then that Rankin played his final card. Crewmen went to the rail and there was an exchange of shouts and laughing as each of the naked girls who had walked the plank were hauled back to the deck to stand there dripping wet and shivering with fright.

It had been a simple deception, a boat had been out of sight and waited below to drag each girl to safety. Along with everyone else I felt better and would have embraced the poor creatures had they not been the center of Rankin's attention. Their blindfolds were removed. What the owner had to say was predictable. Each addressed each girl by name and asked the same question, "Do you feel like using your pussy now?"

Each girl said yes, and, after all, why not! For each had suffered death and been brought back to life. How could a girl equate the sanctity of her vagina against a miracle. As the last girl made her shameful surrender, a crewman appeared with a brush and some paint.