It’s a stormy Autumn day in 1794. Salt spray assaults your nostrils, the wind tears at your hair, flecks of sea foam scurry down the side of your body and your cunt is full of the Captain’s spunk. You’re used to the pitch and yaw of the ship but no amount of tossing and rolling is going to dislodge you from your position as the ship’s figurehead...
It had all started some fifty years earlier when the “Gilly Den” had been privately commissioned by the late Rear Admiral Sir Justin Burrows for construction at the most modern of Dutch shipyards. The Admiral was a renowned ‘ladies man’ who had women (and children) in several ports around the globe and, as a private whim which was quite in-keeping with his priapic nature, he asked for a special figurehead to be constructed for his new ship:
“She must be made of the finest hardwood and should be soaked in your most excellent preservatives so that she will not decay or rot. She must be carved as naked and be complete in all of her feminine endowments. Unlike the usual figureheads you make, I wish this whorish lady to lay astride the bowsprit with her succulent rear on ready display and always available and her head raised ready to accept any” .
The Admiral was a rich and influential man and, knowing both his propensity for lewdness (and generosity when pleased), the shipyard’s carpenters set about the building of the ship. Fully one tenth of the cost of the ship was invested in the construction of you, the figurehead. Your breasts were carved by experienced craftsmen with the most gentle of parings and were polished for more than three months using satin dusters made from the undergarments of Parisian whores. Your mouth, cunt and rectum were lined with the softest of red velvet, your lips were made from the whitest of vellum, your pussy was given a soft kid-leather opening, your arsehole was made from rings of chamois designed to stretch and fit snugly and the carpenters contrived a series of channels within your body to allow fluids to drain away.
On the Gilly Den’s maiden voyage the retired Admiral had taken you to a small Polynesian island he’d visited before (when in His Majesty’s Naval Service) where the island natives, he knew, possessed a magical knowledge handed down over many centuries - they would breathe life into you and make you a voluptuary to satisfy any man. The journey was an easy one and, as the ship rode the currents into the tropical bay of that island, you were greeted by dozens of rafts carrying tall, dark-skinned, muscular young men and firm-breasted young women in their prime; the youngest being seventeen. All wore grass skirts that ruffled in the breeze to reveal their underlying nudity and their bodies glistened as the sun scattered its light amongst the droplets of sea water on their skin. The Gilly Den was towed landward as far as was safe and, from there, it was possible to smell the island’s humid perfume-scented air and hear the songs of hundreds of tropical birds.
Preparations were made for the ceremony that would bring you to life and, by the third day, all was ready. As night fell the air was swollen with the musky odour of ritual incense and the sensual sound of a drum beating rhythmically. As the sky darkened, the ship became surrounded by large rafts lit by brightly burning torches flickering in the gentle breeze until there were almost one hundred villagers present. All the people were completely naked and the near-physical presence of the occasion was stimulating them all to a highly aroused state. Some men were slowly stroking their cocks and many of the women were fondling their breasts or had their fingers rhythmically rubbing their pussy’s in time with the beat of the drum. Their nipples were hard and their breasts bounced softly as they swayed to the beat. All of these caresses were solitary: no-one touched anyone else as if waiting for some sign and all were looking towards you in your ‘unborn’ wooden state.
The drums stopped. The largest raft, that of the Tribal Chief and his Magic Man, left the shore and was propelled majestically and with great ceremony towards the ship by four heavily muscled men with oiled torsos that shone with the reflected torchlight. The chief’s raft reached the Gilly Den and the Chief and Magic Man climbed up the rope ladder over the bows and took their place behind your inert and lifeless wooden body. The Magic Man raised his arms and looked up to the night sky as the drums started again with an insistent beat and he started to chant in a strange language known only to the successive generations of Magic Men. As he chanted he began to quiver and the exotic feathers in his head-dress shimmered in the light. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he used his toes to move himself forward, measure by measure and in time with the drum beat, until his loins were almost cupped around your hard wooden buttocks.
Slowly, and as he moved, his thick oiled cock rose powerfully from beneath the grasses around his waist and stood erect in the warm night air - poised like a spear ready to strike it’s prey. His chanting grew in intensity and speed and the drums were now beating faster with a new sexual fervour. The swaying bodies around the ship were now locked into the pace of the drum beat; many had their eyes half-closed in some sort of sexual delirium.
The Magic Man lunged forwards and, with a soul-curdling scream, he took your carefully crafted virginity.
With powerful strokes he moved inside you taking his pleasure and giving you life. The villagers had the sign they had waited for and fell on each other. The rafts tossed in the water as each became a seething mass of orgiastic bodies. The Magic Man still looked skyward and, starting from the fathomless blackness of space, there was a movement. The point of light grew brighter as if being fed by the power of the erotic activity below. It glimmered with a cool blue light as it moved swiftly downwards and enveloped both you and the Magic Man. Within your oaken breast murmured a small oaken heartbeat, within your mind stirred a small current of thought, within your body spread the gentle warmth of life and within your wooden cunt started a gentle flow of juice easing the Magic Man’s movement, speeding his actions and accelerating your birth.
A tremor started in the plumage of his head-dress and grew to take over the whole of his perspiring physique as, with the force of a liquid bullet, he filled your soft virgin cunt with his seed. Your buttocks were no longer hard but soft and supple, your carefully polished breasts now shuddered with every life-giving plunge into you and your tits blossomed proudly with pert dark-red nipples.
Carnality surrounded the ship as men fucked women, nubile young women rode on hard-pricked young men, women sucked and were sucked. Everywhere there were cocks, cunts, breasts, mouths and arseholes being stretched, filled and fingered in celebration of your birth.
The blue light faded, its work done as the your gathering life-force took on a momentum of its own. The Magic Man slumped forward then drew back with his cock sliding wetly from your tight cunt, drawing out your grateful pussy lips as he departed. He stood aside and the Tribal Chief moved forwards placing his cock-tip against the small puckered entrance to your arsehole. The rosette opened as he leaned forwards and you took him in with the ring of flesh gripping snugly, flexing inwards on his inward journey and clasping at his prick as he withdrew.
Your new eyes fluttered open for the first time and beheld the joyous pleasuring of the people around you. On your right a man’s cock glistened moistly in the torchlight as he steadily fucked a dark-skinned, sultry young woman who, in turn, sucked on an old man’s large, erect prick. On your left a woman was being fucked in her arse whilst licking another woman’s hairless pussy. Beneath you a young man was climbing the ship’s rope ladder and, reaching out, he grasped your hardened nipples. He twisted his legs in the ladder for most of his support with the rest of his weight taken by your teats. This twisting of your nipples caused your first spasm. The tightened caress of your anus squeezed the Chief to climax and his juice spattered into your fresh rectum. As he came the Rear Admiral climbed past and sat astride the bowsprit facing you. He slid forward and inserted his thick cock into your untested mouth. By swinging on some rigging just above you he was able to screw your mouth with a sure, steady rhythm.
By now the villagers were climbing on to the Gilly Den. The Chief had already been replaced by a Warrior whose cock slid into your arse whilst his wife slid a long and slender, curved tropical vegetable into your cunt and then the other end into her own. The Warrior and she fucked you in arse and cunt whilst a beautiful young woman leaned over the bow rail alongside you and caught her breath as one of the crew took her from behind. You looked sideways at her and she at you; you felt stronger sensations watching her rub her own nipples and come as you were fucked in the mouth, cunt and arse.
Young men from the rafts were climbing into the rigging above you and were furiously wanking as they watched the sight below. The Rear Admiral spunked in your mouth and his juices ran down the side of your face. His place was taken by a woman who pressed her bare pussy with its dewy folds of scented flesh against your mouth as though trying to retrieve some of the Admiral’s seed for herself. Your new tongue snaked forth and penetrated her dripping cunt. She leaned back on the bowsprit and rubbed and squeezed her nipples as your lips sucked on her and lapped at her clitoris. The lascivious sight below proved too much for some of the boys above and from their stiff young cocks spurted an arc of jism that flew down through the musk-laden night air and splattered below onto your milk-white back and the woman’s tanned tits.
She moaned and arched her back in climax as she spread the warm spunk over her scented skin, the Warrior groaned and pressed tight into your buttocks as he shot his load into your arse, his wife, impaled on the slim vegetable linking your two cunts, shuddered and clung to his waist as her orgasm took her. Deep in your frame small knots of sensation spread mounting tendrils of excitement to the muscles of your cunt and spurred them into spasms that gambolled over themselves to make a torrent of pleasure that clutched at the shuddering vegetable dildo buried there. Small rivers of sperm trickled over the sides of your back and dripped into the ink-black water below.
The decks of the rafts around the ship were shiny with the juices that had squirted from pricks and dripped from cunt and arse. The people lay almost motionless, satiated and gorged amongst the ruins of their passion. Your birth was complete, the ritual had been witnessed and your life and purpose had begun.
