Pirates bondage story | steel chain, slave

For deep-water cruising with a crew of two women they had elected for a two-masted rig which had divided their sail area into five manageable pieces plus a sixth that could be set between the masts. That sixth sail however they had left ashore with the thought that, where there is little or no reason to hurry, it's room was more valuable than the extra drive.

So they had set out on the great adventure. The watches, four hours on and four off, they had kept rigidly but nevertheless shared the work irrespective of watches. On that day Julie, the designated Captain and Caterer - if only because she could navigate, had been below preparing food against the expected bout of bad weather. Frequently she glanced at the compass telltale screwed to the deck-head in the single all-purpose cabin.

Emma, off watch, had been dozing in the shade of the awning that was rigged over the cockpit but occasionally she stirred to check the self-steering gear and the compass in the binnacle. The two girls worked together in perfect harmony as is required by that harsh task-mistress The Sea.

For the second day running the little yawl was slipping easily through the water at about two knots close-hauled on the port tack with all her canvas spread aloft to the light breeze. The previous day, when Julie had been the one dozing, she had been brought to her feet by the unexpected sound of an engine. It sounded like an airplane but out here... very far from land...? She spotted it at about the same time as the aircrew spotted them for the small seaplane altered course to fly right over them. It circled for a second look and then, with waggling wings, flew away leaving two puzzled ladies alone once more on the bland face of the ocean.

"Must surely have flown from a ship?" queried Emma.

"Most likely. Must be some size of ship to carry a 'plane. But what the hell were they scouting for out here?"

There the matter had to end and was promptly forgotten apart from the entry in the Log. Julie, busy below, had heard a slight bump but even had she thought about it would have assumed they had hit a slightly bigger wave - she was expecting the sea to rise. Emma, warm, comfortable, relaxed and asleep had heard nothing. She had been rudely awakened by a hand pressing over her mouth and, on opening her eyes, had seen only the huge revolver that was trying its best to penetrate her left nostril.

Her assailant was a big man, naked but for a pair of worn jeans, whose heavily muscled body was tanned to a deep bronze colour. Ordinarily such a man would have aroused an interested excitement but, under these conditions, it conjured up only a paralysing fear and she obeyed his explicit hissed instruction to remain quiet.

He was joined by a little evil-looking man who, equally sun-bronzed, presented more the appearance of a monkey. As the big man removed his hand so the newcomer pressed a ball-gag to her lips; seconds later she had found herself face down on the cockpit floor expertly hog-tied. Head twisted back over her shoulder she could only watch helplessly as the monkey man knelt over the companion hatch and tapped lightly on the coachroof.

"What is it?" Julie stopped halfway on to the bridge deck as her startled gaze fell upon her helpless companion and, in that half-second pause, powerful hands lifted her the rest of the way.

For half an hour the two girls had lain helplessly side by side, Emma still gagged, while the monkey man sailed their little ship on a course right-angled to their previous direction. The big man was below apparently talking on their radio but Julie could make little of what he said; she assumed, in light of their present experience, that he was using some kind of code.

Shortly after came a sound which she recognised and minutes later the sea-plane settled to the water off their port side. The monkey man hove-to and an outboard-powered inflatable brought a city-suited man aboard. Despite his eccentric dress for the occasion he was clearly not a landlubber as he briskly made an inspection of the little ship and issued orders.

"She's not carrying registration marks. Easy to re-rig as a Bermudan cutter. You two sail her back. Put the women aboard the plane and dump their personal stuff over the side - make sure that it sinks. Be careful with them; they're worth more than the ship."

Thus had begun their captivity. Had she been asked, Julie would have expressed a low opinion of their interpretation of the exhortation to be careful. Somewhere in the depths of the large motor yacht Emma's gag had been removed and their hands had been locked behind their backs with well-padded cuffs but they swung to the motion of the boat suspended by their ankles. In the pitch darkness Emma's voice had cheerfully remarked that the sensation might have been worse had they been able to see. But, Julie ruefully admitted to herself, Emma had always been able to find something cheerful in the most horrendous of situations.

How long they had hung there in helpless captivity she had but little idea but eventually Julie became aware of a commotion. Sound travels easily throughout a steel-built ship just as it travels easily through the water from ship to ship. She could only conjecture, of course, but the garbled sounds as of running feet, the banging of water-tight doors, odd shouts and other noises that she was unable to identify aroused a fearful anticipation that the ship had suffered some kind of catastrophe. Had they run aground or collided with another vessel? Were they in danger of sinking? Would anyone remember the two girls? In a situation of extreme danger the macho men might well forget their human cargo.

The door of their prison banged open and a pencil of light played around the interior. Came a gasp and a roaring seafarers' oath. "By all the..... ! She carries more than just stolen goods."

She was cut down and carried up on deck where she was soon to learn that they had been rescued from pirates, who had proposed to sell them for profit of greater value than their little ship, by a band of rogues whose brutish business was primarily slave-trafficking. And those sounds of banging watertight doors had been gunfire!

On deck she was stripped, her hands were cuffed behind and then linked to a deck-bolt by a short chain. Soon she witnessed Emma being similarly bound followed by two other girls. They were lined up along the portside where several empty deck-bolts remained and the implications seemed to be an imminent sale. But her observations were cut short by a ragged-clothed man who worked the length of the line pulling hoods over the prisoners' heads.

She became aware gradually that the deck beneath her feet was no longer pitching or rolling and guessed that they had entered harbour or a sheltered anchorage. Real dread began to build in her mind as she awaited the final fate. If only she was able to see the activity around her... and so she came to realise that all activity had ceased. There was a strange stillness, a calm; they must be awaiting the arrival of buyers?

Gentle fingers began to work on the binding around her neck and the hood was as gently removed. For a few seconds she kept her eyes closed against the blinding sun but, when she opened up, it was to see the smiling face of Luke Johnstone. What...?

"Was that realistic enough?"

"You mean...?" The words faded away.

"You've been here all the time. Although... your mind was roving in my VR program."

"Good God, Luke. That was more than realistic. I've been sailing with Emm... who was that girl anyway? We were boarded and taken off by pirates who proposed to sell us and the ship... both. The pirate's were captured by other pir...? But then... you must know all about that?"

"Yeah. I've been with you all the way... as it were. 'Twas I who made up the story and put it into my program. When you said you wondered what it would be like to be stolen away... well... do I take it that you're not so inclined now to laugh at me?"

"It was frighteningly real. But it seemed to go on for several days. How long... how do you do that?"

He held two fingers up behind his head like an Indian feather headdress: "Pure genius. D'you think I can grow rich on it?"

Growing on his face again was that boyish look that she adored so much and irresistibly she moved forward to deliver her special hug. She tripped; for some reason she failed to raise her hands and so pitched headlong into his arms. Then it was that, as he set her back on her feet, she became aware of the cause of that mishap. He was supporting her with his hands on either side of her breasts and she had tried, without success, to remove them.

Her wrists were enclosed in padded inch-wide steel rings between which hung some twelve inches of silver - stainless steel - chain. Her ankles were likewise restrained and the two chains were joined at their centres by yet a third chain. It was this last which had prevented her hands from rising. Luke's hands, still caressing her bosom, alerted her too to the fact that the flimsy see-through material in which she had been arrayed by her would-be slavers was not an illusion of virtual-reality but was real. But then... had not she been stripped naked before being shackled to the deck?

Luke was taking evident pleasure at her look of incredulity: "You wanted to understand the feelings of people taken into captivity, helpless, deprived of control for their future? My VR world gave you a taste of that but now you have to pay the bill. I've taken you to be MY slave. For the next two weeks you will live in those chains and serve me as I command. Disobey and punishment will follow."

While talking he had been fitting a collar around her neck and she heard a distinct but soft click as he locked it into place. That sound, and the humiliation which it implied, seemed to snap her out of the hypnotic state that had been induced by Luke's high-handed action and she erupted into furious revolt.

He shook his head slowly: "No arguing with steel."

From the desk in front of the computer he picked-up a small remote-control unit and pressed a button. From where it had been standing unnoticed in a corner a small six-wheeled robot hummed into life and approached them. Yes, he was a great man with gadgets. Luke leaned down to put his forefinger through a small ring on top and drew out a thin flexible steel wire that he locked to her collar.

"This I call Fido. It is much like a faithful dog. You'll find it is much heavier than a ball-and-chain and will stop any attempt to escape or run away. It will also guide you in your daily chores. Get naughty and it will reel-in that tether and pin you to the floor until I choose to release you. Now, if you will follow Fido to the kitchen I would like some coffee, white with hot milk and a selection of biscuits."

Fido started off towing her behind and Luke seemingly had disappeared. In the kitchen she ignored the command for coffee while she examined her predicament. A quick search through the drawers and cupboards revealed that the only implements available to her would never tackle the steel bondage that held her. The kitchen had but the one door access to which she found was quickly denied by Fido whenever she moved in that direction. Once again her fury rose to choke her; he had tethered her to a robot guard... a shepherd dog... he wasn't even bothering to control her himself!

A voice came from Fido... unmistakably Luke's: "You are wasting time Julie. It is understandable and, for this occasion, I will excuse you. But please understand that you cannot escape. Please understand too that I will wait only so long for my coffee."

It was just too surreal to be real. Surely she was still being subjected to Luke's VR program? With the pirates that had seemed too real to be an illusion. Was it possible that in real time, in real life, he had taken her forcibly as a slave? Was she to be a slave in every sense of the word not just in his kitchen but also in his bed? Was his threat of punishment to mean beatings? That would leave marks on her real body but in this virtual world...?

If it WAS a virtual world?

She needed a way of distinguishing what was real from what was being generated by Luke and his diabolical skills in programming. Could he take her to bed in his virtual world and yet not commit rape? That thought was her undoing. She clutched the side of the sink as the orgasm raged through her body to leave her limply gazing down on the still un-served coffee. Ah; she had forgotten the biscuits!

That surely had to have been a REAL orgasm? Hadn't it? It could have been a real orgasm induced as she dwelt in a virtual world? Fido was twitching her tether - no, it must be Luke's doing. He must have her under observation. That being so then he couldn't blame her for the effect he was having on her body chemistry.

This wasn't fair. He could manipulate her any way he chose and she was helpless to resist. She felt her body rising again in revolt and strove to control it. But bondage of any sort had always been a great turn-on for her and Luke knew it only too well. In or out of his damned VR machine she was now his toy. Chained or not, real or virtual, she was helpless to resist him on any level be it real or a fantasy of his choosing.

Yes. She was discovering with a vengeance exactly what was involved in being held in total bondage. In being truly captive. What it meant to be a slave and bound, by fear and by threat, to obey without question.

Luke had said she was to be held for two weeks? BUT. Cold fear began to invade her belly. Those few days on pirate-infested seas had occupied only an hour at most. In Luke's VR world, if that was indeed where she now found herself, his two weeks could mean anything from a two-minute spree to a life-time of bound servitude.

She gripped the sink once more. Her gasps came weakly with the realisation that, VR or true reality, she was a helpless and hopeless prisoner until Luke decided to release her. Yes. She did indeed trust Luke. And Luke was in charge. But what was it that some bright spark once said? Nothing corrupts like power ... and nothing corrupts so absolutely as absolute power!