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Punishment Day On Dorado Cay by Aubrey Wylde

EXTRACT FOR
Punishment Day On Dorado Cay 
(Aubrey Wylde)


PUNISHMENT DAY ON DORADO CAY

Chapter 1

Morning

 

Dawn was a long time coming for Kris, Alyx and Cassandra. Tied as they were, sitting with their backs to stanchions, legs spread wide, sleep was impossible. The deck grew ever harder to their naked bottoms, their arms and legs soon began to cramp. They were all grateful when the sky lightened and they heard the sounds of movement in the cabin.

Finally the door to the cabin opened and Mr. Binkman came out, carrying a cup of coffee in one hand and his pistol in the other. The trophy wife followed him. She was much younger than Mr. Binkman, blonde from a bottle and with a bust that Kris cattily thought must be considerably greater than her IQ. She was dressed in one of the skimpiest bikinis Kris had ever seen.

“Well, girls,” Mr. Binkman said with a smirk as he looked over his captives, “you’ll be happy to know I’ve notified the staff about your little escapade. They’ll send someone out to collect you in a bit. I told them not to hurry. I’ve some plans for you.”

Binkman took a sip of his coffee, then stepped closer, to inspect his naked, bound captives. As he did his nose started to twitch and then he looked around, sniffing in an exaggerated manner like a cartoon character.

During the night all three women had succumbed to the need to relieve their bladders and being firmly tied in place had done what had to be done. Binkman saw the stains on the teak deck fanning out from each of the women. He put his coffee down on the railing and went to a locker at the back of the cabin. He returned reeling out a hose.

“Melissa, m’dear,” he said to the trophy wife, “would you mind turning on the pump?”

Melissa went to the wheelhouse. A moment later, somewhere below decks, a motor could be heard turning.

“Piss on my deck, will ya?” Binkman said. “Well, it’s bath time ladies.”

He turned the hose on each woman in turn, aiming mostly at their pussies. The water was uncomfortably cool and the jet was painfully strong. He laughed coarsely at their futile efforts to escape the pounding stream by twisting and wriggling.

When he was finished he ordered Melissa the trophy wife to start untying them. She started with Kris. When she was free she was helped to her feet and then allowed a few moments to stretch and get the kinks out. Then Binkman and Melissa made her stand with her back to one of the posts that supported the canopy over the deck. Her arms were tied behind the post.

The Binkmans then did the same for Alyx and Cassandra. When all three women were tied to posts Binkman asked Melissa to freshen up his coffee. She took the cup below and returned moments later. She handed it to him.

“Ah, yes,” he said, stepping in front of Kris, “a good strong, hot cup of coffee. I always say the hotter the better, don’t you?” He pressed the cup against one of Kris’ nipples. It was definitely hot, far too hot to drink. She winced and tried to pull away. Binkman responded by moving the cup to the other nipple. Then he moved on to Alyx.

“You like coffee, too?” he asked mockingly as he applied the cup.

“No,” she replied.

“Sure? Try it again,” Binkman said, moving to her other nipple.

He stepped back and took a sip, then looked at the deck, already drying out. The pee stains were still obvious.

“Ya know just hosing down the deck isn’t going to keep that piss from staining it,” he said. “Those’re gonna have to be scrubbed. And I ain’t doing it.” He looked straight at Cassandra. “You look able bodied, missy.” He turned to Melissa. “Bring a scrub brush and untie this one.”

Melissa went below decks again and returned with a large scrub brush. She dropped it on the deck at Cassandra’s feet and then untied her.

“On your hands and knees and start scrubbing,” Binkman ordered. “Melissa, why don’t you help her by manning the hose. And I thought I told you to get down.” He glared at Cassandra, who’d been slow to obey.

Cassandra went down on her hands and knees. She picked up the scrub brush and started scrubbing. Being naked and busty, her large breasts hung down and jiggled lewdly as she scrubbed. Not only that but the position exposed her sex, which Melissa took little time in exploiting, alternating between hosing the deck and aiming the stream at Cassandra’s slit and anus. When Cassandra would move to protect her bottom Melissa shifted the stream to her dangling breasts.

When Cassandra had finished scrubbing Binkman ordered her to stand with her back to the post again.  Melissa then tied her wrists behind her back, around the post. She came back to stand next to her husband, who put the pistol in his pocket. She snuggled up against him, a vicious little smirk on her face.

“Yep,” Binkman said, gloating, “y’all are gonna get a public punishment for this stunt. Gonna have to adjust my schedule so’s I can make it down here. Whaddaya think it should be, m’love?”

“Oh, I think something really, really nasty, dear,” the petite dyed blonde said.

“How about this for a starter,” Binkman said as he slipped behind her, placing an arm around her waist. His free hand was slipping under the waistband of her bikini bottom, under the tiny patch of cloth covering her mound. “Tie them on the beach, spread eagle style. Then smear bacon grease on their nipples and pussies.” He had his hand all the way into her bottom now and was massaging her. “Then we let the crabs nibble away at them. What do you think it feels like to have a crab pinching your clitty?”

“I don’t know,” she purred, “but I’ll bet it really, really hurts. Do you think a crab could actually bite it off?”

She was reaching behind her now, obviously stroking him.

“I don’t know. A big one might be able to. Them little fellers would probably just keep tugging and nipping away at it.”

“And could a crab get up on them to get at their nipples. Especially Miss Boobies with those big melons. That’s a long way for a little crab to climb, dear.”

“Well, I suppose we could let the crabs have their clittys and let the seagulls have their nips. Wouldn’t that be fun? Watching the seagulls grab their nips in their beaks and pull on them? How far d’you think a seagull could stretch a nipple? Two, three inches maybe?”

“Let’s try an experiment.” She went to Kris and seized one of her nipples between thumb and forefinger. She started pulling. “We’ll pretend I’m a seagull.” She lifted the breast, stretching it out. Her long fingernails dug viciously into the tender flesh of the nipple. She began tugging and twisting. “Whaddaya think, Krissy? Is that what being bit by a seagull would feel like?”

Kris bit her lip to keep from crying out, but couldn’t prevent the tears from starting to trickle. Good Lord, she thought, this woman is as bad as her husband. She gave the poor nipple another hard tug, then released it and stepped back.

“Maybe we’ll find out in a few days,” Binkman said. “Meantime, this here is a ship and I’m the captain, which means I’m the law on-board. And as the captain I’m damned well going to impose some proper seagoing punishment on you pirates. Back in the old days they’d flog the hide offa your back as soon as look at you.” Binkman had retrieved his pistol from his pocket. He waved it at each woman in turn to emphasize his point. “I think will start with this one.” He pointed the pistol at Alyx. She thought for a moment Binkman intended to shoot her. But then he said to Melissa “Get her ready.”

Melissa untied Alyx. As she stretched her kinked limbs a thought entered her mind. She could jump overboard. Swim for it. She could take them by surprise, be over the rail before they could react. Would Binkman shoot at her in the water? But swim where? Her memory of the previous night and the difficulty she’d had getting to the boat was still fresh. Even if Binkman didn’t shoot her she’d most likely drown before she made it to shore. Damn, she thought. I’m getting suicidal.

So, instead of leaping over the side of the boat she meekly let the bitchy little trophy wife lead her across the deck to another of the posts supporting the awning. Melissa had her stand facing the post, then raise her arms over her head and cross her wrists. Binkman handed Melissa a short piece of rope which she used to tie Alyx’s wrists to the post. Melissa had to stand on tiptoe to reach high enough.

With Alyx secured Binkman pocketed the pistol and went below again. He returned carrying a cat-o-nine tails.

“Perhaps I should thank you girls,” he said nastily. “Always wanted a chance to use Old Betsy here.”

He held it up for all the women to see it, making sure to stand where Alyx could turn her head and look. The cat was a fearsome thing. The various flogging devices used on the island were designed to sting but do minimal damage, since a woman sent to the infirmary for weeks or permanently injured was considered a waste of a valuable property. But this device was longer, the falls made of coarse, stiff material. And most frightening, bits of metal were worked into the falls.

“Yep,” Binkman continued with pride in his voice. “Picked this up years ago. This is the genuine article. This is what they used in the old days on men o’war, back in the days of wooden ships and iron men. Always wanted to see what it could do.”

He swung the cat back and forth gently, letting the falls trace a sinuous path through the air. Then his arm moved back and Alyx closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, while Cassandra and Kris stared in wide-eyed horror as he prepared to strike.

Binkman stopped and turned to Melissa. “My dear, I think a few practice strokes are in order. Get a life jacket and tie it to one of these posts.”

Melissa did as she was told, ducking into the cabin and returning a moment later with a bright orange life jacket and a piece of twine. She wrapped the lifejacket around a post where all three women could see it and tied it in place with twine. Binkman stepped up and chose his spot like a golfer lining up for a putt. He swung the cat, not very hard, and it raked across the lifejacket, leaving ragged parallel rips in its path. A second swing came in too low, striking the post and ripping small splinters from it.

“Damn!” Binkman swore in a low voice. “Gonna cost to have that fixed.”

He took a third swing, this time hitting the lifejacket square. Small bits of fabric and plastic foam flotation went flying.

“Ahoy, the Pequod,” a voice called out. “Permission to come aboard?”

Alyx recognized it as Eric’s. She turned to see a Boston Whaler approach with Eric and three of his assistants aboard. She’d never been happy to see him before, but now she felt she could kiss him. Mr. Binkman looked a bit unhappy.

“Permission granted,” he called out somewhat grudgingly.

 The Whaler pulled alongside. Eric climbed aboard, followed by two of his assistants. He looked at the cat in Binkman’s hand and the shredded lifejacket. He arched an eyebrow pointedly as he looked at Mr. Binkman. “I do hope, sir, you didn’t seriously intend to use that device on any of our girls. I’m certain the board of directors would be most unhappy.”

Binkman looked a bit sheepish. “Of course not. I was just havin’ some fun messing with their minds.”

He shot a nasty look at Kris and Cassandra. Something in that look made Kris believe Binkman had every intention of working them over with the terrible device. She prayed he’d never be given the opportunity.

“Very good, sir. I’m glad to hear that.” Something in the tone of Eric’s reply told Kris that Eric wasn’t entirely believing Mr. Binkman either. “We’ll be taking the girls into our custody now.”

His assistants untied Kris and Cassandra first and helped them into the Whaler. Then they returned for Alyx. She was trembling and had to be helped to walk across the deck to the boarding ladder. Minutes later Eric had them lined up on the dock.

“Girls,” he was saying, “you have no idea how mad I am at you, and you know what an easy going person I am. So you can imagine how much trouble you are in. Now, I’m going to take you to the detention cells. I should have you hogtied and make you wriggle on your bellies all the way there, but I’m not going to do that. But if you cause the least amount of trouble, if you so much as show me a dirty look I’ll have you spread eagled on the ground and whip your asses off right now. Is that clear?”

All three mumbled yes, eyes firmly cast down at the ground.

“Ok, then. Follow me.”

He led them through the cluster of service buildings they’d slunk through the night before, then turned away from the fence and the main building, to lead them to a low concrete structure, almost like a bunker. One at a time he led them down a stairway and through a heavy metal door. Inside was a bare corridor with blank metal doors on either side, cell doors. Each woman was ushered into a cell, alone, and the door swung shut behind her.

 


Chapter 2

Interrogation

 

Time passed slowly in the cell for Kris. There was no window and she had no way to judge the passing of time. She also had nothing to occupy her time. The cell was entirely bare except for a metal cot bolted to the wall and metal bucket to use as a toilet and a plastic water bottle. A single light fixture was sunk into the ceiling. A small opaque dome, probably housing a closed circuit TV camera, was the only other object to break the flat concrete surface.

After a while a small hatch near the bottom of the metal door slid open. A bowl of plain rice and another plastic water bottle were passed through and the hatch closed. Time passed. The light dimmed for a time but was not completely extinguished. Twice more food was passed through the door. Again the light dimmed, then brightened after some hours. Kris assumed another day had passed. She waited for the next meal to be passed in.

The door to the cell opened. Two burly men in the khaki trousers and sand gray shirts of the club staff entered. Kris braced herself, thinking she was being taken out for the public punishment.

Her wrists were cuffed behind her back and she was escorted out of the cell, one of the men keeping firm hold of either arm. In the hallway they turned right, opposite the direction she’d entered the building from. They passed several unmarked metal doors, each with two openings, a small one up high and larger one lower down, covered by sliding panels. More cells, Kris thought. She wondered which ones Alyx and Cassandra were in.

At the end of the hallway there was another metal door, this one lacking the openings. One of her escorts opened it and they entered to find a stairwell winding downwards. They descended the stairs and then passed through another door into a sort of ante room. The room was empty of furniture, just unadorned beige walls and linoleum flooring. There were three doors, one in each wall. Her escorts took her straight through the room and opened the door.

The room was clearly a torture chamber. The centerpiece of the room was a heavy, straight backed wooden chair with leather straps fastened to it. A metal cabinet, several chairs and small tray, like a TV tray, were lined up against the walls. Her escorts unfastened Kris’ wrist, then went to stand by the door, leaving her standing in the middle of the room, next to the chair.

After a few minutes the door opened and three men entered. All three appeared to be well into middle age, one short and rather thin, the  other two of average height and a little overweight. Two were dressed in the white linen suits that the higher level staff of the Club favored. The third was dressed more casually in slacks and a florid tropical pattern shirt.  The two men who had brought her to the room quietly slipped out the door.

The shortest man introduced himself. “I am Mr. Hepple. I am the general manager of the club here at Dorado Cay. This” he motioned at the man to his left, “is Mr. Watmaugh. He is the head of security here.”

He paused and took a long look at Kris. Something about his mien made her stomach turn over.

“You realize, Kris, that this incident is quite serious,” Mr. Hepple said gravely. “As officials of the Club it is our duty to investigate what has occurred, so that we might better prevent future such occurrences. We tend not to use the word ‘slave’ here. It has such, um, unpleasant connotations. However, slaves are what you girls in fact are and you represent a considerable investment that our members would be loathed to lose. And then there’s the considerable threat to their privacy should one of you succeed in an unauthorized departure from the island. So you can understand the awkward position you’ve put us in here.”

He paused.

“Personally, I take no pleasure in inflicting unpleasantness on anyone. I’m merely a professional resort manager. Our members, my employers, as you well know see things from a different perspective. Our founders, many of them, had classical educations. They established certain procedures that we on the staff must follow in specific situations. Clearly, we must question you. That would be a given anywhere. Now, you may or may not be aware that in ancient Rome testimony from slaves was always taken under torture. Not surprisingly, our founders were quite taken by this idea and thus incorporated it into our instructions.”

He paused again and then gestured towards the man he hadn’t yet introduced, the one in the flowery shirt.

“This is Detective Franz, formerly of the N.Y.P.D. Retired now, he works as a consultant for us. He will be in charge of your interrogation, though Mr. Watmaugh and myself will observe.” The detective gave a small wave.

“Hi, Kris,” he said. He walked around her slowly, glancing up and down, not saying anything. It was a motion designed to make her nervous and it was succeeding. Mr. Hepple and Mr. Watmaugh stepped back away, watching.

Detective Franz stopped in front of her, staring at her with hands clasped. He finally spoke again.

“So, Kris,” he said finally. She noticed he wasn’t looking her in the eyes. He seemed more focused on her chest. “As Mr. Hepple mentioned, I was on the force in New York City for many years, and I conducted many interviews with prisoners. It always bothered me that there were limits as to what I could do to get to the truth. Not a problem here and I have to say I’m enjoying my work so much more because of that. Why don’t you take a seat. We’re going to be at this for a while.”

He motioned her to sit on the chair.  It was heavily constructed and bolted securely to the floor. She stepped back and sat down. Franz walked behind her, still talking.

“As Mr. Hepple stated, the policy here is to apply a certain amount of torture, just to be certain you’re not holding anything back from us.”

He gently brought her arms behind her used leather straps fastened to the chair to bind them.

“Now, you realize that you’re going up for a public punishment in the not too distant future, so I can’t really be as aggressive as I would like to be. We can’t have bruises showing when you go before the crowd.”

He gave her right breast a light slap for emphasis. Then he knelt down at her feet. He positioned her ankles at the front legs of the chair and secured them with straps. He stroked her pussy, just to emphasize her vulnerability, before he fastened a strap around each thigh. Then he stood up and looked down at her with a malicious look in his eye.

“Fortunately there are methods we can use that won’t leave any marks.” He went off to  the side of the room and returned carrying some items, what they were Kris wasn’t certain but there were dangling wires. He knelt down beside the chair and placed the items on the floor. He fussed around for a moment, then held up an item that looked like a Flash Gordon bra. There were two translucent plastic cups, a copper nub centered on each, a red wire dangling from it. Several more copper points were arranged around the central one, these all having black wires attached. A wide elastic strap connected the two cups, with two more straps dangling from the opposite sides.

Detective Franz held the cups in front of Kris and placed one on each breast, positioning them so the central copper contacts were on her nipples. The cups were much smaller than her breasts so they were almost like caps over the ends. Deftly Franz slipped his hands behind her back, fastening the straps that held the cups in place.

He picked another object up. This one was a translucent plastic dildo, though a bit short, only five inches or so. But at the base there were two extensions, a slightly curved one in front and a much more hooked one in back. Copper strips were embedded on the surfaces of both the dildo and the extensions. Detective Franz picked up a tube of lubricating gel and smeared a generous amount on the dildo. He placed the tip between her inner lips and slowly but firmly pushed the dildo into place. It took a bit more effort  and some wiggling when the rear extension reached her anus, but he soon had it in place. Kris could feel the forward extension pressing against her clit and the rear extension intruding into her anus.

“Now this may pinch a bit,” Franz was saying. “But we don’t want you expelling this.” She felt a pinch on each of her inner lips. “Those clips should keep things in place. Would you believe it? Before I added those clip I saw girls squeeze so hard they fired the plug all the way across, the room.”