To the Bottom of the Sea

Location:   Pacific, 300 kilometres past Easter Island, heading due west,
passing sea mount communities.
Condition:   Normal
Ships time:   18.30hrs zulu time

Funny how Lucas always manages to be in the gym the same time as me, Lieutenant Hitchcock mused as she sweated on the nautilus machine.

Lucas was hunched over on the bike trying not to be noticed and making himself more obvious in the process. Unfortunately for Lucas they were alone, that meant as he tried to surreptiously watch her Hitchcock was watching him.

A response test, she thought, moving off the arm program and into the thigh sequence.

Hitchcock could smell her own sweat; a high, light perfume. She could smell the people that had been in the gym before them; dense, musky odours that would linger, perhaps for hours. The thigh sequence began. After a few minutes of watching the wall she stole a look at Lucas. Wolenczak appeared to be having trouble breathing, was a little redder in the face than before and kept looking at the floor as he cycled on.

It wasn't simply the sight of Hitchcock in the unitard and shorts that drove Lucas to follow Hitchcock's exercise schedule with such precision. It was her smell as she worked, the small sounds she made as she exercised and the thought that she knew why he was always here on the bike before her and yet she still came, regular as clockwork, to the nautilus and sat there, with a feint sheen of moisture on her, exercising for him. The gym gear she wore had gotten progressively more aggressive in the time he had been shadowing her - gone from an old baggy sweat suit, through sweat pants and lycra top to this most enervating of combinations, grey marl unitard (the high legged swim suit kind, he noticed) and a pair of black cycle shorts. The definition across her buttocks and thighs was incredible, there were moments as she ran on the running machine when Lucas thought he would die, right there, as he watched her ass and marvelled at his good fortune.

By the end of her routine Lucas had cycled almost a hundred kilometres, normally it was only forty or fifty, so today was a particularly long one.

...and he only groaned once. Hitchcock's train of thought was disturbed by the ships bell, 19.30hrs.

Towelling her face she stepped off the running track and strolled over to where Lucas sat on the machine, pedalling steadily, hunched over, "You know, you should do some laps or something, Wolenczak. Put in some time on the rower or the nautilus."

Hitchcock smiled to herself, she knew perfectly well why he chose to sit on the bike hour after hour; it had nothing to do with fitness and everything to do with disguising his erection.

She knows, fuck, I've been made, doubt raced through Lucas' mind and fluttered across his face,have to say something, anything.

"Well, I'm just not into the muscle thing, Lieutenant, just want to get some aerobic exercise. If I use this thing," he said tapping the handlebars, "I can imagine I'm on the surface doing something else."

Good work, almost plausible, he said to himself.

Lucas looked quite pleased with his little speech, relief showed in his face.

"Okay Wolenczak, I'll see you later."
Hitchcock stretched lazily, not more than foot from the bike, turned and walked away, she could feel his eyes on her and almost hear the rush of blood in his cock. The thought caught her by surprise, and caught her imagination. Into the showers though first.

It took Lucas almost ten more kilometres before he was able to get off the bike.

Why do I continue to torture myself like this, he thought, she knows - she must - why else would she say that? Lucas wandered off, back to the narrow dark warren he made his own.

A little steam crept from beneath the door to the women’s shower room as he passed, alone in the corridor Lucas paused, scratched absently at his balls and realised exactly how much havoc she had wrecked upon him. Standing there he was almost knocked down by the person emerging from the door, Hitchcock.

"What are you doing there Wolenczak?" There was a hard, terse note in her voice.

She hit him with those high intensity blue eyes, quickly looked him up and down, Lucas was looking into the middle distance, with one hand in his jogging pants pocket. She could smell him, he hadn't showered.

Time for some fun, she thought.

Lucas looked up startled, realised she was standing right in front of him, looking right into his eyes. He yanked his hand out of his pocket on reflex. She'd said something to him, but what?

He blurted, "On my way to the mess... pick up a soda... thought I saw something, heard something... you hear anything?"

He hadn't broken her gaze but had broken into a blush, could feel the tips of his ears burn.

It was all Hitchcock could do not to laugh, the boy was blushing.

"I'm on my way there too, and no I haven't heard anything, don't worry, if anything happens we'll be the first to know."

Smiling she put a hand on his shoulder and gently propelled him down the corridor. She walked a few paces behind so she could watch his butt.

I wonder what he looks like in swim shorts, she thought,god I love teenagers. So wonderfully predictable, so easy to manipulate.

Another darker thought occurred to Hitchcock as they strolled along, this odd couple, and this one made her laugh a little out loud.

Fuck, how am I going to get out of this? I can't go into the mess looking like this; people'll think I'm some kind of scumbag. Lucas' train of though was arrested by her little laugh, the burn came back twice as bad to the tips of his ears, but his feet continued to plod along.

"You sit, I'll get these," Hitchcock’s tone had mellowed.

She stalked over to the dispenser, got two mugs of coco.

It is the navy, she thought,and he'll never notice the state he's in.

With that and with her back turned to Lucas, Hitchcock dumped a small pill in his mug.

Worth every penny I paid in Singapore from the herbalist, she told herself.

They made ships talk, about Whiskers operations and ideas he had about increasing their operating efficiency, it was 21.00hrs when Lucas suddenly felt heavy, drowsy almost.

Must be the exercise, he told himself.

"I gotta go, hit the sack. Sorry, Lieutenant.”

Finally, she said to herself,thought I'd been ripped off with this one.

"No problem, Lucas. I'll see you later." Her tone was carefree, or so it seemed to Lucas’ fogged mind.

About two hours time, I think.

Lucas stopped at the head on the way back to his bunk, polished his teeth at the sink in his cabin and crashed out fully dressed still on his unmade bunk. Hitchcock hurried back to her cabin, locked the door and got the bag down from its shelf. As she inventoried the kit inside Hitchcock felt a heat inside her, it had been months since she'd had an opportunity to use some of this stuff, a long time, much too long. The jumpsuit came off and was hung away. Hitchcock stood in front of her door mirror wearing a g-string and lycra vest top, and admired herself, her lean form and lightly but powerfully muscled body.

Just a little prep work first, she told herself.

The g-string came off and fell to the deck, the top she left on, it was thin enough to work through. Rubbing at her nipples she stood before the mirror, slid her hand between her thighs and used her middle finger on herself. First on the labia, very gently, then on the clit that hid beneath. As she worked Hitchcock daydreamed about the fun to come, about what she had in mind for Wolenczak.

There it was, hiding in the bottom of the bag, a quick run under the faucet and it was good as new. A little blob of lube, she bent over using the sink for balance and slipped it in.

So much better like this, Hitchcock said to herself,how is it that two dollars worth of plastic can be so much fun?

With the butt plug in place she went back to the mirror, smiled at her reflected self and pulled a small chair over. Slouched in the chair, with her feet propped either side of the mirror, she could see everything, feel the basso thrum of the boat’s engines through her heels. Her erect nipples, the way the muscles had tightened across her belly and the shiny blue plastic of the plug, the wonderful sensation it imparted.

Hitchcock licked at her finger, tasting herself then slid it down and in. Without so much as a glance on her clit she shoved her finger into her hole, reached far enough in so she could touch the top of her cervix and started from there. A gentle circular motion, moving slightly down with every revolution, so that she though her head might unscrew. Halfway down the desire to cum was unbearable, she pitched her other hand in. Moistened her finger tip and started to work with a circular action on her clit, all the time watching herself in the mirror, the lips spread apart, the colour flush from pink to red, she could feel the orgasm build, it was all she could do to stop herself from screaming, she though of Lucas and his willing body, his compliant mind, she shoved her other fingers into her cunt and brought herself off so hard she almost blacked out.

Later for Wolenczak, she giggled inside at the thought, sitting panting in the chair. Hitchcock looked over to the kit and smiled,but not much later.

******

Location:   Pacific, 500 kilometres out from Easter Island, heading due west.

Condition:   Normal

Time:   00.15 hrs, zulu time.

The dog watches, most of the crew slept. Lulled by the steady hum of the engines and gentle sense of movement many enjoyed a deep and dreamless sleep. Darwin moved through his tubes in a more languorous manner than usual, half his brain slept and the rest guided him on. Past the quarters of his friend Lucas. From his vantage point Darwin could see that the young human slept fitfully on an unmade bed. This wasn't unusual, he'd seen Lucas like this often enough to know that it meant nothing unusual; he swam on, lost in cetacean daydreams, whistling softly to himself, remembering the pod and warmer seas.

Wolenczak had begun to dream moments before Darwin's visit. His dreams were filled with turbulent, unquiet images - data swimming between his fingers, always out of his grasp - pursuing a restless form through the boat's companionways, never to grasp it - images of pursuit, never of resolution. But something new invaded his sleeping mind.

Lucas dreamt of mermaids passing their hands over him; cold, narrow fingertips dancing a tattoo across the backs of his legs, the small of his back, his shoulders; his hands and wrists held fast by kelp as their faces flashed past. The sensations changed from a fine fingertip to a more gentle, curved sensation; almost as if a bottle nosed dolphin were rubbing itself against him, but it couldn't be that (his sleeping mind told him) since there was no sensation of being buzzed by the creature's sonar. But still the curve tormented his flesh, he struggled against the seaweed to see the author of this subtle torture but found no weakness in its hold. He grew slightly colder, Lucas felt the hairs stand on end across his body, the motion continued, then something changed. Before the dream of being under water held no fear for him but now, now it felt as if he were drowning; a moment of disorientation and he found himself awake and on his bunk.

Something still felt wrong. Lucas shifted his body and tried to move but found himself restrained, face down on the bunk. His sleep-addled mind raced and he became aware of a taste, a form in his mouth that he couldn't spit out, and he was naked. How was this possible? It didn't add up. Naked, restrained, gagged, this had to be some kind of weird navy joke he told himself. Then he felt another weight on the bed shift and another person's body heat on his back, he could hear them sigh and the curved sensation returned.

The curve moved over his body and onto his thighs, the drifted off his skin to be replaced with a different touch. Out of the corner of his eye Lucas could see the remains of his gym gear, neatly sliced to aid its removal without waking him. He could also see an out of place kit bag, but it was empty. The fingertips pressed into his flesh with a gentle kneading action on the crease between his butt and his thighs, then short nails dragged themselves across his ass and down between his legs. His surprise prompted him to pull against his restraints and try to shout out but it did no good, whoever had done this to him knew what they were doing.

Lucas still couldn't turn enough to see who it was behind him but something was familiar about this person, not the touch and obviously not the voice, but something was familiar. He stiffened as the fingers touched the back of his balls, paused and the encircled them, Lucas lifted himself a little off the mattress and the hands stole forward a little and a nail scraped the base of his cock. The hand was under him now, cupping his balls and holding the base of his erection, it stayed there for a few moments, it's partner wandered across his thighs and grabbed his waist urging him up into a flat crouch. Normally having his arms pinned at the wrist, head held by the gag and with his knees lifting under him lifting his ass up into the air would be disturbing for a young man like Wolenczak but on this occasion he didn't have an opportunity to feel embarrassment; what he felt was the hand on his dick tighten and begin to stroke first the root and then the crown of his erection.

The hand remained there long enough and moved with such a surety of purpose that Lucas almost forgot about it's partner until the nails of his unseen assailant raked themselves all the way down his back from the nape of his neck to the crack of his ass, if it hadn't been for the gag he would certainly have screamed. The hand paused, then slid between his ass cheeks and onto his anus. He realised that he had been lubed up as he slept, that that had been why he had suddenly grown colder. The finger moved around his asshole in a little circle and was then shoved in up to the second joint; he bit down on the ball in his mouth ‘til his teeth hurt. The hand on his cock worked a little faster, the finger in his ass moved in time adding another dimension to the intense sensations.

Lucas was held there for a time, the pace slowed and he began to wonder how long he had been in this ridiculous position. The hand on his cock moved up and began to work on the glans itself, fingertips only, working with a lightness of touch that made his head spin. He barely noticed the finger come out of his asshole; all he could feel was the delicate touch on his glans.

There was a sudden flash of bright, white light and the whirr of a Polaroid camera, the hand didn't stop and that was the main thing. Then something was pushed in front of him, the pillow at the head of the bunk hit the deck and he could see the image develop on the film, first the lightest areas of the picture then the darker tones. It was him; it was what his manipulator must be seeing now. There was an arm looping into the frame from the right, passing behind his thigh and gripping his dick, he could see the hand and his own cock quite clearly. There was a small area of his ass in the picture with his asshole almost dead centre, still open a little from its earlier abuse, shiny with lubricant. Lucas found himself fascinated by the little picture, enraptured by the feelings coming from his dick and surprised by what happened next.

A tongue began to work on his asshole; as he crouched there a hand grasped his balls and held them back, increasing the tension in his dick, the stroking hand picked up it's pace and a tongue slithered and danced around and then into his asshole. A circular motion just like the finger that had been there before, topped off with sudden darts into his asshole. He felt his cheeks grow wet with saliva, his balls were being gently massaged and the fingers on his helmet tightened with every stroke. It was almost with relief that he came, the hot licks of cum shot up the bunk, catching him under the chin and across the chest. Lucas sagged onto the bunk insensate, it was almost a faint, so powerful was the ejaculation.

Hitchcock sat back from him, perched on the end of the bunk looking at Wolenczak's semi-recumbent form.

Lucas had lasted pretty well, she thought to herself, hadn't struggled too much, had just sort of let it happen.Quite encouraging really.

The butt plug rested on her left heel and she gave it a couple of turns with her foot to get herself back in the mood a little. The tube of lubricant was still almost half full and the night was young, she reminded herself. Hopping off the bed Katherine set the instamatic camera up on it’s mini tripod on Lucas' work station, checked the framing and got back onto the bunk. Lucas hadn't stirred, which suited Hitchcock just fine. She checked the limb restraints and the gag, tightened the ones around his ankles and slipped a blindfold over his eyes. She then turned away from Lucas to face the camera, smiling she used some of the remaining lube and took a picture, triggering the camera with a small remote.

The feel of fabric over his eyes roused Lucas; he had cum so hard it almost felt like he had a headache brewing, there was an ache in his sinuses to match the ache in his stomach. He tried to move but found himself more securely fastened than before. Unable to shift from the crouch now, his legs had been pinioned. He wondered what was happening, heard the camera click and whirr and then felt the body on the other end of the bunk shift toward him.

So much better than the plug, Hitchcock said to herself.

She looked at the saliva drying on Lucas's asscheeks and bent and kissed them, she shuffled forward on her knees, savouring the moment.

A kiss on the ass! Surely not again! Lucas’ mind raced, he could make no articulate sound.

He waited for a hand on his cock, but it didn't come. All sorts of thoughts raced through his mind, he tried to guess what was coming next but failed, yet the thoughts that filled his mind helped fill his cock.

A moment more, Hitchcock thought.

She watched Lucas tense, inhale and saw his manhood begin to swell and rise. As he exhaled she took her opportunity and pushed herself in. Lucas strained against the cuffs but could not get free, his whole body shuddered as she gripped his shoulders and forced the dildo in further, grinding herself against his buttocks and riding his flexing body, her fingernails digging deep into his shoulder muscles.

The strap-on was cunningly shaped, eight inches of priaptic plastic attached to a jock strap of webbing and velcro, the inner face of the jock strap was contoured and moulded to mix sensation with control, it almost felt part of her. Hitchcock was in no hurry, Wolenczak tried to escape the intrusion but Hitchcock anticipated his every move, like a champion cowboy on a steer.

Lucas almost swallowed the gag in shock, the cylinder in his ass made him feel strange, light headed. He wanted it out, but at the same time he didn't. His erection didn't diminish, there was a pressure on his prostate that he had never felt before and Lucas could feel the heavy pulse in his cock return, as it came back his sinus ache lifted.

Hitchcock began to work as Wolenczak's movements slowed, she ground herself against him and against the dingus, pausing only to add a little more lube and grab a handful of his hair. The hot plastic felt great against her, she angled herself onto the slippery material and moved it from her clit to the opening of her vagina. Lucas had begun to breathe heavily; she pulled his hair back harder and began to slam her cock into him, harder with every stroke.