Faceless Stranger

"Yes Miss, you had a very exciting masturbation session. I watched and unfortunately saw that you were denied the climax you had worked your pink orchid so hard to achieve. That was too bad, but I've got your ticket for your next nasty little ride."

I did owe him something. His graphic description of my solo session as a voyeur had me wishing I could've given him a good show. Maybe his repeated mention of my ticket for a 'nasty little ride' would be what he was looking for. Maybe I could perform for my pirate and then he'd free me. I offered a correction to his description of my hidden feminine flower, "I've always thought of my lady parts as a rose, not an orchid."

"Does your pussy have thorns?" he asked.

"What? No. It's very soft and delicate."

"No thorns inside or around your pussy?" he repeated.

"No! Absolutely not. What the hell...?" I was indignant at his rude question.

"Then if you don't have any thorns, it's not a rose. I'm an expert orchid pirate and as such, I am going to plunder your orchid. But I don't touch roses."

It sounded like he'd finished coiling his rope and had stuffed it in his sack. I heard the sack being strapped to his back and then I was caught by surprise as his arm wrapped around my waist, and with a hearty tug, he pulled me off my log seat, slinging me over his shoulders as before. The top of his pack pushed into my stomach, an arm was rammed between my legs as he pressed on my butt to hold me in place. His other arm rolled over my neck, securing my body across his broad shoulders. He took a small hop and shuffled me, rebalancing his load, and began moving down the trail.

My cheek slid against his cheek and neck, it was stubbled and sweaty; the rough scent of this physical man stirred a growing sense of surrender in my heart as he carried me away blindfolded, bound and hanging across his shoulders. I squirmed to adjust myself, trying to keep the contents of his pack from poking into my stomach. He moved his hand over the back of my head, grabbed my hair and pulled hard to bend my ear close to his lips; "You are trouble, Miss," he breathed in a forceful whisper. "If you make any sudden moves now, you are likely to send the both of us over the edge of the cliff. I won't let you look, so I'll have to carry you. The footing along here is quite treacherous. I'm going to give you another chance to get close and maybe go over 'the edge' again - but on my terms. Will you cooperate?" He paused, waiting for me to agree, then added, "Your life is in my hands now, understand?"

"I wasn't trying to escape, I was just trying to..."

He yanked my hair again, "Understand?" he whispered in a calm, firm voice. "No rash or impulsive moves Miss. Ready?"

"Ready for what?" I asked in a meek voice.

"Harr," he chuckled in a mock pirate voice, "I'm going to take you down over the cliff to my secret orchid cove. The trail is not even fit for skinny goats, a misstep and we die. But if we get safely to the bottom by using my eyes and tiny steps of my sure feet, rather than taking the next twenty-five meters in a single step, I think you will enjoy the place. No one other than me has ever been down here, it's a pirate's secret. I've discovered an unknown orchid species along this cliff edge. I am going to enjoy uncovering another new orchid on the beach below." He added another "Harr, harr," and then gave a comforting pat to my bottom with the thick arm that ran between my legs.

"Ready? Hold still and I'll take it slow." He took a few steps along the even trail and then moved with caution as he shuffled along, one foot in front of the other as we descended the sheer face of his secret orchid pirate trail. I was scared, but cooperative and did nothing impetuous. I could feel his back and shoulder muscles tense as he crept down the steep trail. I was nervous and also trusting in his powerful build and calm manner, similar to the time he rescued me from my ill advised humping log - only the panic was dialed down a few notches. Maybe I was getting used to living on the edge?

***

He picked his way carefully along the precipice, resting often until I heard him exhale as he came to a stop. He leaned back, pressing me into the hillside and then stooped his shoulders, unloading me onto a broad, sandy patch. "Your cooperation was appreciated, Miss."

I could hear the surf rolling onto the beach with small rumbles. I asked, "Now that you've managed to safely get us down the cliff to this secret pirate cove; is this where you're going to rape me?" I tried to sound matter of fact, hoping that I sounded like a dispassionate woman ready to negotiate. It was a bluff. I doubted it would change anything; I was a captive, a hostage to an overpowering masculine force that I now believed was a pirate in his own right.

"Is that your secret desire? Do you want to be raped on this this beach?"

"No! Don't twist my words!" I spun around, turning my back to the direction of his voice.

His hand spun me back around and pushed me, pinning me against the sharp stone cliff. Both palms pressed between my shoulders and breasts, holding me in a helpless position. I could smell his sun-drenched skin as he leaned into my face, "What do you want?" he asked with a smirk in his voice. "Miss, what is it that you truly want today?"

"I want..., I want to know lots of things... I want to know why you bothered to carry me to this hidden place and I want to know if you are going to rape me way down here where nobody can see or hear what you are doing to me?"

He pressed his pirate paws with a continued firmness, "You keep bring us back to the subject of rape, it that what you're secretly fantasizing about, but can't, or won't admit it?"

I squirmed under his question and forced embrace, his hands slipped down, squishing my lady lumps. "I only bring up that word because of what you so strongly implied; telling me you 'had my ticket for my next nasty little ride' and then being rather explicit about plundering my pink orchid. If you are truly a pirate like you claim, I'd expect a pirate to pillage, plunder and yes, rape - it's in your job description, isn't it?"

His fingers closed around my mounded mammaries, squeezing as he breathed steamed words into my ear, "Miss, you are full of ideas. But I've got a few of my own."

"Are you going to rape me?"

"No."

His abrupt answer to my repeated and pointed question came as a relief to me; at least at first. Then a sense of foreboding swept over me. What was he going to do with me? I was confused by an overload of emotions; small relief at first when he said he wasn't going to force himself to penetrate me. I felt extreme gratitude that he had saved my life, yet threatened by his desire to do something with my vagina, or my orchid as he called her. All adding to my strange mix of apprehension, curiosity and surrender to a faceless stranger to whom I owed my life.

I was bound by a mysterious man who had carried me away to a hidden cove for some desired purpose. He didn't seem to be a violent threat, yet he was rough and even sensual. There was a strong, overtly sexual tone that I couldn't ignore. It was a dark side to this gallant savior of a maiden in distress. What the hell kind of a man is an 'orchid pirate?'

"So, you promise you're not going to rape me?" I asked, unsure if I should keep the idea of non-consensual sex in front of my pirate master.

"No. I told you that already. Right?" I nodded meekly to his exasperated response.

"No," he elaborated, "Somewhere between your saucy mouth and your half-teased twat, beats a wild rebellious heart. I'm going to watch you stew in your own nasty, erotic juices that got you into danger to begin with this morning. By the time you get going on your next nasty little ride, I think your saucy mouth and terrible twat will conspire to betray your half-hearted protests; I have a feeling you will be begging me to plunder your pink orchid."

His grip on my chest loosened into a caress, his fingers circled around the edges of my cups before he stopped touching me. After a moment he asked, "How are you feeling?"

I was taken off guard by the question, my ex-fiancé never, never asked me about my feelings. I didn't know how to answer his question; I had too many confused feelings to sort out and give him an answer. I said nothing.

His hands settled on my hips, his chin rested on top of my hair, "Miss, you have had a lot of questions this morning, but it seems, very few answers."

"I'm sorry," I said after he waited a minute or two for me to give him some kind of answer. "I'm sorry, I can't explain my feelings to you, my emotions have been completely swirly, too swirly even for me to understand. I assume you can understand that."

Still holding his lips above my head, he spoke, "Assume? I don't traffic in assumptions. Assumptions are dangerous and can get a man killed. I must have the facts; how are you feeling?"

The coarse stone behind me poked my spine as I slumped, bleating, "I don't have facts, I only have feelings. Only feelings are real for me. I don't traffic in facts."

My orchid pirate laughed, dropped his head so that our noses touched, "You're a unique girl," he said in an amused voice. "Let me start with a simple bargain; I propose a fact and you tell me how you feel about it. So, let's try this fact; Miss, how would you feel if I untied your hands?"

"What about my blindfold?"

A swift, sharp nip on my nose with his teeth made me realize that I shouldn't keep trying to negotiate with my secretive handler. Holding my head between his hands, he leaned into my face and said, "I just saved your life, and I proposed a fact in exchange for your feelings. You are not in a position to parlay with me. We are operating under my rules. Yet you insist on causing trouble, Miss. You are going to give me what I want, one way or another."

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, it's just that I've never been bound, blindfolded and abducted by a pirate before and I don't know how to act. I'm flooded with emotions. So, yes, please untie my hands and I'll do what you want. I feel I owe you a lot for rescuing me back up there. I would feel grateful if you freed my hands."

"So, Miss, we both know that you're trouble, right? If I decide to untie your hands, I need to know some facts - will a pair of free hands get you into more trouble?"

"No," I answered.

"Good girl." He brushed my cheek with the back of his hand, then continued his interrogation, "Let's step back to earlier this morning, and I want you to consider where you'd be right now if I hadn't hauled your ass off that wooden phallus as you rode that dangerous dangling dong."

"I don't want to think about it," was my response as a chilled shiver rippled through my body as I returned to the inescapable terror of falling to my death.

"Let me offer another fact and you tell me how that makes you feel; if one orchid pirate hadn't come along, your corpse would be floating out to sea right now, making a feast for the sharks. How does that fact make you feel?"

"I feel... I feel that I owe you my life, I feel I am yours."

"Good girl. Now that we both understand that you are indebted to me, even for your life. Do you feel that you can follow all of my instructions without making trouble?"

"I don't want to be any more trouble to you." Before I could catch it, an impulsive burp burst from deep within my psyche, I told him, "I feel I need to be submissive to all your instructions."

Again, he assured me with a "Good girl."

Using both hands and with a vice-like pressure to the side of my head, he twisted me around. His fingers trailed down my temples, brushing my hair off my neck to make way for his touch to run down my throat, lightly landing on my shoulders. Reaching from behind, under my arms, his manly hands glided up under my breasts, cupping them as his palms rose, pressing into my nipples. With open hands, he bunched my orbs into a collected single mass of soft, feminine features, which he methodically caressed. His heaving, warm breath passed from his lips to tickle my left ear.

"Tell me more about your feelings. Go back to earlier in the day and tell me about your feelings as you rubbed that long, smooth log between your legs."

His thick fingers continued their rounds, circling my nips, getting them to rise as he waited for my brain to shift gears and allow me to get back to the place where I was building my fantasy and acting horny. I rekindled those personal fantasies as I ground on my pleasure nub, coaxing my eroticism to expand in my womb and inflate into a heated bubble of glowing ecstasy, waiting for the moment it would burst and make my body collapse under the eruption and irresistible weight of orgasmic pleasure.

I gathered my past sexual thoughts from the morning, helped by the titillating arousal being applied to the sensitive tips of my tits. He was waiting for me to tell him about my private feelings as I masturbated on the smooth, fallen log before he had to rescue me.

I began, "I ran away to this island after a painful Valentine's Day break up. It was a very impetuous thing for me to do. But that's what I do. I'm running away from my old life in Chicago."

"Walking alone on that jungle trail I was feeling heartbroken and alone and then stymied by an obstacle, the large, fallen tree, blocking my path. I decided I would try to surmount that obstacle and continue in my solitary journey. It was a metaphor for my life. When I climbed on top of that obstacle, I felt powerful and confident. I slid along with that trunk between my legs and I was aroused by the physical stimulation and intoxicating feeling of mounting a big obstacle that looked to me like the erect penis of a god. I've got a dirty, sexy imagination, and I got myself pretty lathered up with that image."

His silence and strong caressing through my t-shirt and bra encouraged me to continue. "I got excited feeling that my sexuality could be used for healing, I had a feeling I'd discovered a divine calling. I got aroused with not only a sense of a coming powerful orgasm, but a sense of sexual purpose. It works that way for me, I like sex to be more than physical, I want it to be metaphysical. I fantasized that I was fucking a massive supernatural cock and channeling feminine energy into the masculine force to unite and heal a wounded world."

In the act of telling my inner feelings to this faceless stranger gently groping me, I fell back into my world of erotic fantasy and enjoyed the mental stimulation of my sexual thoughts coupled with the tangible stimulation of my breasts. I continued, "I was feeling whole, spiritual and extremely horny, driving my hips into that rounded surface wedged between my legs, working my hot and happy clit to drive her wild, so wild that I would climax and fly over the edge - figuratively speaking, with a soul and body wrenching, healing orgasm. My vigorous bouncing and humping with my engorged girl parts must have cracked that supernatural cock and I came close to flying over the edge - literally speaking. You know the story from that point."

He hugged the girls, then spoke, "Yes, I watched you get close to the edge; disappointed that you didn't make it over the edge - figuratively speaking, but oh so glad you didn't go over the literal edge."

His hands released my paired mangoes, climbing up to yank on my hair. "Yes, Miss, that was a nasty little ride that your tingly twat sent you on at the end. Coitus interruptus." Tightening his grip on my locks, he bent my head back, "Don't you hate coitus interruptus? You might say it tends to leave a girl just hanging, wouldn't you agree?" His question had a hungry snarl embedded in its tone.

"Miss, I've got your ticket for your next nasty little ride. You are going to finish what you started at the top of this cliff. You are going to do everything I say and follow my every instruction. You will be submissive to my demands - won't you?"

I nodded with his fist wrapped around the strands hanging down my neck. "Good little girl. Good horny little girl," he said softly.

Lifting my bound arms high off my lower back, painfully wrenching my shoulders, he produced a knife and inserted it between my wrists, cutting the rope in a swift, violent motion, letting it fall to the sand at my heels. My freed hands dropped to my side. I was grateful for his release.

Though blindfolded, I could feel his eyes washing over me. "Pull your shirt off. Do not dislodge your eye covering." Hearing his command, I complied without hesitation.

"That's a first for you. I'll have to revise your file: Has learned to follow instructions, does not mouth off to cause trouble. Good girl."

"Turn your back to me." I did as I was told. "Unhook your bra." I separated the three eye hook fasteners and moved my hand to throw the straps off my shoulders.

"No!" he shouted. I told you to unhook your bra. Did I tell you to take it off?"

Brushing the strap back up in place on my shoulder, I stammered, "No, I thought that you..."

I got a sharp swat on my butt. "Do only what I order you to do, no less, no more. Do you understand how you are going to behave under my command, Miss?"

I stood in silence, ashamed of my transgression and shook my head in agreement.

He rubbed my butt, whispering "Good girl. I know you will try your best for me. I know you will because you owe me so much, right?"

"Unbutton your shorts." I loosened my waistband by undoing the button, but did not touch the zipper.

"That's what I like from my little rescue girl. Following orders, not getting ahead of herself. Good girl." I was pleased that I had done my given task well for my faceless pirate captain.

"Hunch and wiggle your shoulders and let your loosened bra fall off." I wiggled my titties extra sexy to knock the garment from my chest, letting my tits slap against each other once they were set free from their lacy cupped restraints.

"Drop your shorts to your ankles, but don't step out of them." I pulled my pants down off my hips, letting them slide over my thighs, knees and calves, landing at my ankles.

"Miss, tell me what you feel on your tits," was his question as I stood in my pink panties.

I rushed to respond, "I feel nothing. I removed my bra like you said. There is nothing there to feel. I'm naked, except for my undies."

My answer was met with a swift swat by a cupped hand to my ass. I let off a surprised grunt, but I did not scream. "What? I told you the truth. Why'd you smack my ass?"

"Did you feel that?"

"Of course. That's a stupid question." As soon as I said that, I tensed for another slap at my posterior. Instead, I got the same stupid question.

"Did you feel that?"

"I told you, yes."

"I see I have some work to do to prepare you for the pleasure of your next nasty little ride. You say you have feelings, but I see that they are shallow. You will soon learn to explore yourself and feel deeper. Do you understand?"

"No," was my answer. "I already have deep feelings," I protested. "You don't understand me."

I got another stinging reprimand across my tush. "What! What are you trying to do with me?"

"Did you feel that?"

I tried to calm myself and cooperate with his unreasonable treatment and repetitive question. "Please, I don't understand why you keep doing this to me."

"Miss, where did you feel it?"

"On my butt."

"How does your butt feel now?"

"A little warm and red I suppose, maybe a little residual stinging."

He addressed me like my high school geometry teacher when I was unclear on some inane geometric proof. "I want you to think for a moment before you answer; where on your butt are you feeling my recent attention?"

I gave his question a moment, then replied with a tentative, but obvious observation, "On my skin."