Don't Try Suicide Ch. 06-08

Chapter 6

After their evening meal, while they were sat out in the dying rays of the sun. Bev confessed that she felt guilty about all the aggravation she had caused, even though it was completely illogical.

"How could you have prevented it?" was the obvious argument.

But she still reported feeling guilty and would feel much better if they both gave her a sound spanking as soon as possible.

"How soundly spanked do you need?" asked Sid, he was quite concerned that Bev didn't know when to stop.

"Harder than last time, really make me cry this time please." she begged, "I know I'm incorrigible, but now I know you want to spank me it's like I'm trying to make up for lost time."

"That's OK" said Debs "I'll spank you every day if you want, if Sid takes you below and gets you well warmed up, I'll be in shortly and make you cry."

Debs turned to Sid "She needs this Sid and I need it, I try to rationalize it but hurting people turns me on."

"How much do you want to hurt me," asked Bev huskily, pushing a hand between her legs.

"I want to hurt you a lot, I want to make you scream," Debs replied honestly in a barely audible whisper.

"Do it then, take me in the sex toy room and make me scream," Bev whispered

"Are you sure?" Asked Sid.

"And lock the door," added Bev, "just you Debs, I don't trust Sid to hurt me enough."

"You are a very kinky girl," purred Debs rising from her chair and leading Bev below decks, "You stay here Sid, Bev needs my special skills."

"Actually Sid come and watch," called Debs from outside the sex toy cabin, "you need to learn what Bev needs."

As Sid entered the cabin, Debs and Bev were sat on the bed, Bev was nuzzled into Debs chest having her hair stroked. She was a bit scared now, but Sid had learnt that Bev was very brave and wouldn't back out.

"Lock the door Sid," Debs instructed, against what Sid wondered, but nodded and obeyed.

Sid crossed the smaller cabin with its central bed and sat in the arm chair. He was wearing baggy Bermuda shorts that were beginning to tent. The atmosphere in the small cabin felt charged with expectation.

Debs always made an effort to try new ideas, she sat on the bed and positioned Bev with her legs wide open around her waist facing down between her own legs. Bev's body from her tits up was hanging off the bed.

Debs stared down at a beautifully presented bottom. She could see her wide open pussy and arse hole, her hour glass waist and back disappearing off the bed and her slightly chubby but smooth legs to her sides.

Debs began by running her nails across her skin, and as they drew towards Bev's pussy she spanked her glistening mound hard enough for Bev to draw breath.

The wooden hair brushes were all she intended to use today, but that would come later. Bev was really going to enjoy this spanking, almost as much as Debs. She suspected that Sid would enjoy the show as well.

Debs stroked the bristles of the hair brush over Bev's bottom, abrading the skin, making it smooth and sensitive. More vigorous strokes were used to bring a pink blush to the tops of her thighs and sides of her buttocks.

Bev had never had her pussy spanked until that evening.

By the end Beverly was screaming, tears running freely and still she would not admit she was a pain slut.

"You are such a pain slut," spoke Sid for the first time "that your name is cited in the English Oxford Dictionary's definition." He'd been thinking about that for a while.

That caused a bit of a giggle from everyone and Debs drew the spanking to a close. "I didn't break you with the hair brush," said Debs proudly.

Chapter 7.

It was very dark when the threesome emerged from the cabin, they first went to get some clothing against the chill of the night then stopped by the galley for a bottle of wine and some snacks to take to the aft deck.

Sid was telling a joke about a young man telling his dad that he wanted to get married.

"Say you're sorry," he intoned taking dads part.

"Why, I haven't done anything wrong," he replied to himself.

"Say you're sorry," insisted dad again in a deeper voice.

"What for?" replied the son in Sid's perplexed impersonation.

"Say you're sorry," dad's deeper voice said yet again.

They were nearly on deck now and Bev and Debs were both fascinated where this was going.

"OK, I'm Sorry," said Sid now sounding annoyed.

The smiling threesome then in unison stopped dead as a heavily accented Jamaican voice finished the joke from the aft deck.

"Your training is now over son, you're ready to get married."

Sid emerged onto the aft deck cautiously and switched the light on. Bev and Debs stood wearily behind him.

Dr. Fulton Wilson sat in a reclining chair, with a number of folders on his lap. "Hi guys, aren't you going to offer your guest a drink?"

"How long have you been there?" Demanded Debs.

"I'm not a pain slut. Admit it, you're a dirty pain slut, I'm not, just fucking spank me," his sing-song impersonation resonated with Sid's joke, before laughing out loud.

"It's really none of my business, you're not doing anything wrong as far as I can see, it's just different," He explained. "I found it quite arousing in fact, but that's not why I'm here."

Bev accepted Fulton's explanation and asked with reddened cheeks if wine would be OK. He accepted and she went to get another glass.

They were soon sat round the galley table and Fulton's easy manner eased them back into their normal relaxed state.

They discussed wines and the best fresh fruits available on Jamaica before Fulton turned the discussion rather unexpectedly to one of his Favorite TV detectives, Columbo.

Sid enthused about Columbo, he had the box set and regularly used to post on a Columbo fan blog.

"I know you did," said Fulton, opening the first file.

The relaxed atmosphere evaporated in that instance.

"You know Columbo would have hated face book," continued Fulton, "It takes all the leg work and deduction out of an investigation."

Debs in a low voice, close to a whisper asked, "why have you been snooping on Sid?"

"Come on Deborah Louise Munton, 28, from Bath, why would I not be interested in a man who won thirty two million pounds sterling, four months ago."

Fulton allowed the silence to continue for a while, before carrying on.

"Face book gives you an incredible door into another persons life. I know you won the Lottery Sid, I know that you gave a considerable amount away to family and friends and I know the comments they posted about you are not nice."

"What is it you want," said Sid trembling.

Fulton smiled almost kindly, "please let me finish, I'll be about 5 minutes then you can talk about it."

"Sid the reason I'm sat here is because of your last post, your plan to run away to sea and spend some time trying to find something worth while to do."

"If I was going to blackmail you I would not have brought these genuine documents, they're not forged, they're all registered with the correct authorities."

"Here's your passport, driving license, national identity card, work permit and birth certificate." he said, passing the folder to Bev.

"My dad's one of the governors, and in return for Jamaican nationality we want you to help fund and run the largest free clinic in Montego Bay.

Bev erupted, "he's got to be kidding," she almost laughed, "how could we do that?"

Deb's was much cooler, "he's not kidding, he's done his research, Sid worked as Chief Medical Administrator at Bath General City Hospital. I was a Senior Nursing Officer."

Bev said weakly, "I'm trained in child care NVQ 1."

"The clinic is a charity so you can raise money anywhere you choose."

"This is the last chance this clinic has, without you guys dropping out of heaven, the clinic will have to close within weeks," stressed Fulton, "my dad as Governor has been trying desperately to save it for the last twelve months, but there just isn't the money."

"There's no point in me forcing you, you won't be committed. The clinic has serious issues with management." He dried up, obviously, this meant a lot to Fulton, "The rest is in the files".

"I'll leave you to talk about it, but just think, what you going to do with thirty million pounds that you can't do with five million?" he said emotionally as he stepped onto his motor launch.

They took the files down to the Mistress Suite, and started pulling documents out of the folders, Sid and Debs were amazing as a team and soon started listing what was required to bring the clinic up to a basic standard. Costs were estimated and Bev fell asleep on the bottom of the bed.

When she awoke and started to stir she was sharply told not to move, they had covered her in bits of paper over night as Sid and Debs had burned the midnight oil. As she was uncovered and papers were filed in new piles, Bev went to the galley to put the kettle on, before going for a piss.

There was a card stapled to the front of the first folder with Fulton's details on. And this was all that Sid brought to the breakfast table where Bev had laid out their meal of fresh yogurt, fruit and nuts. Fresh coffee was in the pot.

Bev had decided that she would do whatever Sid and Bev wanted, she had become their willing slave in every way conceivable, she was even excited about beginning a new life, especially if there was financial security and a sense of value and purpose beyond making money.

Sid snapped the card down on the table and said grandly, "we've decided Bev".

Chapter 9.

Ten years later.

Anthony was sat quietly on his own in his dirty flat, thinking of another Saturday night out at the local pub where he would get pissed and hopefully bring Sharon or one of her loud mouthed mates home for a quick fumble and then a quick shag in the morning if his hangover hard on didn't fail him.

The rash on his cock itched, he thrust his dirty fingers down his trousers to scratch it. His fingers smelled of fishy cheese when he sniffed them. He would have to get the landlord to fix the shower.

An older and less annoyed Russell Howard was bringing his 'Good News' show to a conclusion on the telly.

"And finally this week 'It's not all doom and gloom', comes from Jamaica."

An older but, still easy going and happy looking Fulton narrated a story of a clinic that had served the people of Montego Bay for sixty years.

The camera showed old footage of a gloomy but functioning clinic, children, mothers and the old lay in basic wards with volunteers. A few medical staff were overwhelmed by a flu virus.

The narrator went on to tell how even this basic facility for the poor of Jamaica was threatened with imminent closure in 2015.

The music brightens and the narrator then describes how it was saved by three individuals who had no connection or interest in the clinic but ploughed millions of dollars of their own money and ten years of their lives into not only saving the clinic, but bringing it up to standards never seen before in free health care in Jamaica. An act of pure altruism.

The picture pans to the wards of the clinic today. Happy well staffed bright wards. Well managed volunteers in clean uniforms and up to date equipment.

A local resident from a rural background tells how the clinic was and how much better it is now. How thankful they are that the sick can be treated.

The three philanthropists are introduced to the camera. Anthony freezes when Beverly Wilson is introduced.

"fucking hell, she's dead," he murmurs, "she's alive?"

Beverley Wilson looked almost exactly the same as she did 10 years previously. A bit thinner, her skin well tanned, she looked incredibly happy and content and confident. Her last name was different as well, but that's to be expected.

Her voice had picked up a slight Jamaican accent when she spoke. "The drive to make a success of this clinic has come from my friends Debs and Sid and from my husband Fulton. I have been involved in bringing in the thousands of volunteers who have helped us over the years. Those thousands of volunteers and fund raisers are the ones who have made the clinic what it is today. This clinic belongs to Jamaica because of their relentless efforts and I hope it serves the community for many, many generations."

The assembled volunteers and community cheered and danced. The camera showed Fulton crying, hugging his wife with dinner plate sized hands.

Anthony grabbed the remote and paused the action. He missed Russell Howard's brief conclusion that this indeed was the best use of a lottery win he had ever heard of.

Anthony's parting gift to Beverley was to tell all her friends that she liked to be spanked, it had destroyed her.

If success is the best form of revenge, Anthony's day had come.