Scene 7 – The Beach
“Take me now, Drake,” the writhing young blonde pleaded, still stretched out and bound to the heavy plank on which she had suffered all morning long. “I can’t take this bloody teasing anymore. Please! Fuck me right now, this minute!”
Verity Mayfair was shackled, spread-eagle on the vertical eight-foot-square bondage board, naked except for a few tiny, tattered scraps of clothing. She was growling and squirming, desperate to satisfy the insane, tormenting lust that had been building in her loins for hours.
Her large breasts were bulging out, individually circled and cruelly squeezed by the leather cords that had contracted in the heat of the sun on this isolated tropical beach. That must have hurt, but the anguish from the constant sexual arousal obviously needed to be taken care of first.
I had just switched off the vibrator whose soft head had been tied to, and was pressing against, her lovely young pussy. The devilish device was programmed to stimulate her for one minute, switch off for sixty seconds, then turn on again for another round.
And so on, continuously. It was powered by solar panels, so it would torture her all day long.
The timing was sufficient to arouse the young, healthy lass, but it was never long enough to bring her to orgasm. I pulled it away from her crotch.
“Verity,” I asked, “are you sure? You’ve been guarding your virginity this entire time, and...”
“Fuck my virginity,” she snarled. “Damn it, Drake, I've never been penetrated by a man, but those pirate bitches have stuck dildos into me, licked me to orgasm, I've done the same for them, so I fucking know what a goddamn orgasm is, and I fucking need your mother-fucking cock inside my damn cunt!”
She spat that all out without pausing. The girl had impressive breath control.
And impressive ferocity: in the week I had known her, Verity had never cursed. Not ever.
Not even when she (and I) had been captured by The Pirate Emerald’s vicious, well-armed band of sex-crazed female cut-throats.
Not even when she had been flogged on the deck of the SS Dominance, tied face-to-face and tit-to-tit with Wench Juanita, in punishment for licking each other to unauthorized orgasms.
Not even when the crew tied the two of us to these bondage frames with contracting leather cords on our limbs that were designed to tear us apart as they dried in the sun.
Not even when Emerald sailed away and left us to slowly die in agony.
Verity was truly in need. Still, I hesitated to take advantage of the situation.
Truth be told, I’d been wanting to make love to this smart and stunning twenty-year-old since I met her. She was an English history student who had been assisting me in tracking down Emerald so I could discover and stop her evil scheme. The villainess and her band of Wenches had bound and sexually used us for the previous couple of days.
And I was just as ready for sex as she was, for the solar panels also intermittently powered a mechanical penis stimulator that had been locked onto my junk as I lay strapped to a board just across from hers.
I had just freed myself of my torturous death trap a few moments earlier and was preparing to do the same for Verity. Before I could do that, she had started her pleas for penetration.
She now looked down at my hard cock and then glared into my eyes. “I know you want to, Drake, so for the love of God just do it already!”
The lady was persistent, and she was of age, so...
Without further ado, as they say, I leaned onto my virgin companion and entered her wet and ready vagina. I took it easy, because I’m pretty big down there, and she was inexperienced in such things. Her eyes nearly rolled back into her head as I pushed my way upward.
“Goddamn,” she cried, “that’s fucking big, Drake.”
“Sorry,” I told her. “I can pull out.”
“Don’t you fucking dare, you bastard,” she insisted. “Keep going.”
So I did.
I started my pumping slow and easy, but as she continued to loudly encourage me, I began thrusting into her with no tenderness or finesse, in an effort to quench the erotic flames that consumed her.
Verity’s moans and groans were coming from deep inside her throat and chest, and she banged her head against the board behind her like she was possessed.
I’d known her and lusted after her for a week; this moment of consummation was a long time coming. Her orgasm was not.
Not long in coming, I mean.
She took only seconds to climax, thrashing as best she could in her extremely tight, spread-eagle bondage. She screamed like a banshee; I thought the girl was having a seizure.
I stopped thrusting and stayed still inside her.
After a minute of panting and sweating, Verity calmed down. I did my best to tenderly wipe away the perspiration from her eyes.
I had not cum yet. My hard cock remained inside her while I leaned back a bit and untied the cords that looped around and squeezed each of her swollen, purple-tinged C-cup breasts.
As the blood painfully flowed back into her tits, the intense sensation caused Verity to suddenly climax again. She convulsed and cried out once more, unleashing a fresh, impressive string of curse words.
(Most of them I knew, but there were a couple of obscure ones that she must have picked up from the multi-national crew of Wenches as they ravaged her on board the ship. I made a mental note to have her teach me some of them sometime.)
As a newcomer to all things sexual, the girl was certainly getting the hang of the process. The vibrator between her legs had been the primary cause of her insane lust, but I could sense there was more to her sexual frenzy than just that:
Namely, Verity Mayfair was not the first person I had met who was mightily turned on by a heady mix of danger, bondage and sex.
I should know, for I was one of those people. That’s partly why I was an agent for a secret crime-fighting organization called the Bureau Of National Defense And Global Enterprise.
At B.O.N.D.A.G.E., we agents were all hedonists with a healthy (unhealthy?) interest in sex and BDSM.
Verity calmed down again while I kissed her tenderly. I withdrew from her pussy slowly, and released the woman from her bondage. Once on the ground, her legs gave way and she collapsed into my arms.
“Jesus, Drake,” she softly said, “is it always like that?”
“You mean the orgasms?” I asked. “Uh, no, they're not usually that hard. Yours were... unusually robust.”
She gave a weak chuckle. “Good. I don’t think I could take that again.”
At which point hugged me for support and then kissed me. Firmly, passionately and definitively. I reciprocated, of course.
When she pulled back, she whispered, above the sound of the surf hitting the shore, “But I’d like to try again, later. Maybe a little bit slower next time.”
She put her hand on my cock, looked down and exclaimed, “Drake, you’re still hard. Did you cum?”
I confessed I had not.
“Then I need to take care of my hero,” she said.
“First,” I pointed out, “we need to get out of this heat and clean up a bit. Also, making love on a sandy beach is not recommended.”
I led her a few yards from the beach into the foliage, over to a relatively deep part of a clear stream that ran from the hills on this small island to the ocean. From the ship in the harbor, I had seen the Wenches go there in pairs, hand in hand.
We discarded the scraps of clothing we wore and lay in the brook. The cool water felt fantastic as we washed away the sweat and grime of the previous few hours.
Near that spot was a small, shaded clearing with a low platform and some padding the size of a king mattress; I figured Emerald’s crew had used this spot for the very activity we were about to engage in.
I was right; there was a wooden chest with a bottle of lube and some towels within easy reach. There were also four pre-set wrist and ankle cuffs chained to the corners of the platform.
Yep, the sex-and-bondage-loving Wenches had been here.
Verity and I knelt before each other, kissed properly and caressed a long time, exploring each other’s bodies. It was very nice.
We had seen each other naked; hell, we had watched each other being used sexually by Emerald and her crew, but we had never been together, as true lovers, like this.
I laid Verity down on her back and prepared to lick her pussy in preparation for entry, but she gently stopped me.
“Drake, I’ve had plenty of that lately from the Wenches,” she explained. “Let me do it to you. I’m not experienced at it, but I’ve seen the women do it to you enough that I think I have the basics down.”
She lay next to me, her head on my thigh and her crotch near my face. As she licked my cock, I took some lube and started to use my hands to gently stimulate her clit.
“I’m still a little tender down there,” she said. “Tell you what, Drake, let me tie you down so you can just relax and enjoy the sensation. I know that bondage turns you on.”
I was hesitant, but she insisted, and who am I to deny a beautiful woman’s erotic request? The cuffs were easy to secure on my wrists and ankles and soon I was spread-eagle and immobile.
Verity’s blowjob was not the best I’d ever had—I'd been a judge in the most recent “Miss Blowjob World” competition in Bangkok and I know first-hand what the best is like—but it was surely one of the most gratifying. She sensuously licked my cock like a lollipop, then sucked and stroked it while moaning.
It didn't take me long to climax. It was a big one, with growls and involuntary spasms within my shackles; sexually speaking, I had been wound tighter than a watch for hours.
I caught my breath, expecting Verity to release me.
“Bravo,” I heard a female voice call out from the surrounding foliage. I looked around as best I could, strung out there, flat on the ground.
Emerald was giving Verity a slow clap with her leather-gloved hands as she approached us two, smiling. She was dressed in a fetching, old-fashioned female pirate’s outfit with a micro-mini skirt that showed a lot of leg.
A lot of leg. And a little bit extra; from my vantage point on the ground, I could see she'd skipped her usual thong panties this time.
“Did you save some for me?” the pirate asked the blonde girl. Verity opened her mouth partway to reveal that she had taken my ejaculate in her mouth and had not yet swallowed it. There was a devilish twinkle in my young companion’s eyes, one I had not seen before.
Verity stood on my chest to get a little height—Emerald was taller than the young blonde—and kissed the older woman, transferring my cum, mouth-to-mouth. There was also some groping of breasts and ass between the two.
“Nice,” purred the pirate as she licked her lips. “As tasty as I remembered it from last night.”
Obviously, at some point, Emerald and the crew had secretly returned to the island after leaving Verity and me tied up on the beach.
It was also obvious that Verity had been recruited or brainwashed by Emerald and her all-female, all-treacherous crew.
Speaking of which, from out of the clearing now came three of the Wenches, leading fellow crewwoman Juanita, who was in restraints. She was bound by excruciatingly tight layers of rope around her breasts and upper torso, with her hands pulled up brutally high behind her back in what’s known as a reverse-prayer tie.
She was also viciously gagged with a large leather piece that covered her lower face and obviously secured a huge plug in her mouth, filling the space completely.
She was disheveled, bruised and most of her outfit had been torn off—not that this fit and randy female crew ever wore much in the way of clothing in the tropical heat—suggesting that she had been punished recently.
The Wenches maneuvered Juanita over to where my face lay on the bondage platform. Her legs were free and her pussy was exposed.
Emerald grabbed Juanita by the nipples, pinching and twisting them, hard. The poor Wench groaned beneath her gag and sunk to her knees, straddling my face with her naked pussy.
“Start licking her, you scum,” the pirate captain told me as she smacked Juanita’s bare breasts with her riding crop.
“You have my permission to bring the Wench to orgasm,” she added. “It will be the last one this betraying bitch will experience for a very, very long time.”
Emerald drew her sword and used the tip of it to play with my still-moist cock and balls.
“As for you, Mister Drake, Verity has graciously given you the last bit of sexual pleasure you will ever have.”
She and her crew, which now seemed to include my former traveling companion, laughed.
They laughed again and then there was silence for a few seconds. .
Finally, I spoke up. My voice was muffled by the thighs and pussy of the woman straddling my face.
“Uh, is anyone going to say ‘Cut?’” I asked out loud. “We don’t have any more action or dialogue for this scene.”
“Oh, yeah,” said our director Sam Traylor, obviously mesmerized by the erotic scene in front of him and the film crew. “Cut! Print! Take five, everybody.”
Somebody called out, “Can we make it fifteen?”
The director sighed. “Fine.”
“How’d I do, Sam?” asked Kylie, the young actress who played Verity.
“Just fine, Miss Kirchner,” he replied as he approached us.
The bulge in his pants betrayed his real feelings; the action had been more than just "fine” to this man. Sam had gotten the same oral treatment from Kylie the previous night—I had been present and had received the same—and he was probably hoping to get a repeat performance later.
“Although,” he said, “your fellatio was demonstrably a bit more...skilled...than your character should possess. At least at the beginning.”
“Oh, dang it, Sammy,” Kylie said. “I’m sorry. Let’s try it again.”
The director looked around; all of his camera and sound crew had scattered into the brush, presumably to jerk off—or pair off—after watching that sexy scene. Getting them back in any reasonable amount of time was probably asking too much.
“Ah, where did I lose control?” he muttered to no one in particular. “Thanks for the enthusiasm, Kylie, but I think we’re done for the day. None of us got much sleep last night.”
He was right about that. I had to smile at the memory.
The party in his hotel room had started as a foursome, with just Sam, Kylie, Richelle—the actress who played Emerald—and me. As the night progressed, other members of the cast and crew slipped in and it turned into a five-way, and then a six-way, a nine-way, and then...
Eventually, I lost count of the number of participants in that pleasant orgy.
By sunrise, Sam’s hotel room looked like a porn version of that comically over-crowded stateroom scene in the Marx Brothers' film A Night at the Opera.)
(I love that movie, It's a classic.)
While I was getting untied here in the jungle, I saw Richelle talking to the actress who played Juanita, who was still bound but no longer gagged. The conversation looked very ... intimate.
“Sorry I was a little harsh with the whip earlier, Maria,” Richelle said. “Are your breasts okay? Do you want me to untie you?”
“Let the ropes be for now,” replied the busty Latina actress. “Yes, the crop stung a little. You can make it up to me, if you’d like.”
Richelle led the woman towards her trailer, caressing Maria's ass along the way.
Meanwhile, Sam and Kylie had disappeared into his trailer to “discuss” the previous scene. Obviously, people were pairing off now that we'd wrapped for the day. I wandered back to the beach where Kylie and I had “walked the plank,” the big bondage boards we had been strapped to.
How had I—well, Agent Emerson Drake—escaped the devious deathtrap set by The Pirate Emerald?
Simple. Love set us free.
In a scene that we had filmed earlier that day at the planks, Juanita, the Wench that had been whipped with Verity for accidentally bringing the girl to orgasm during a tease-and-denial session, revealed that she had fallen in love with my companion. They had been sexual partners both before that punishment and afterward, at first forced into it by Emerald and then...
The script had Juanita being charged with the last-minute check of the bonds on my plank before she and the crew abandoned us, stretched out and suffering.
Secretly, her character had partially sliced one of the leather straps holding me to the board, hoping that, as the leather dried and contracted, I’d be able to snap it and free myself.
“Save her,” she whispered to me, referring to Verity, just across from me. “Save her and bring her back to me, if you can.”
At any rate, right now those planks were occupied by two Asian-American actresses who played Emerald’s go-to assistants when it came time for bondage, or whipping, or anything BDSM-related.
Two other members of the cast, Nicole and Jenny, were licking the pussies of that naked pair as they were tied up and stretched out on the boards, like Kylie and I had been earlier.
This time, however, there were no cameras around to record the action; apparently, these four women were also finished for the day and were simply taking advantage of the props on hand for a little recreation.
“Hello, Tamiko, Hoshi,” I called out to the ladies in bondage.
“Hi, Dirk,” Tamiko replied, squirming a bit while enjoying Jenny's talented tongue. “Care to join in? We could use a cock in this mix.”
I indicated my flaccid penis and told them I had just shot a scene with Kylie; I was not quite ready to facilitate their request.
“That’s okay,” said Nicole, breaking off her cunnilingus action on Hoshi. She held out a flogger to me. “As long as your arm hasn’t gone limp, Dirk, you can help out in other ways.”
I took the handle of the multi-tailed whip and grinned at the thought of getting “revenge” on these two, remembering the day a few weeks previously that Tamiko and Hoshi and I had all auditioned for this movie. The sisters had tortured and tormented me without mercy in a mock interrogation scene, so this was time for payback.
Although, knowing these two kinky bitches as well as I did, I figured they were probably going to enjoy the flogging as much as I was.
Next time: Flashback to that audition process, when the actresses really get into their roles as sexy and sadistic interrogators.
