Girl Seven

The lights went out.

I groaned as the boat rocked once more and waited for the searing agony, praying that there wouldn't be ligament damage and it would go back in cleanly.

The next thing I knew, I lay against a bulkhead with a cupboard door across my legs. My now almost completely numb arm hung limply by my side. With trepidation I gingerly probed the shoulder joint and sighed in relief as I felt it was still in place. I lay in the dark massaging it for a few minutes and got some feeling back. That was good and bad news and I whimpered as the blood flow returned and my hand throbbed as if I had hit it with a hammer.

At least the boat seemed steady again and the sky looked lighter. As relief flooded in, I also realised that when the lights went out, all power must have gone. That was how my arm had been released. I got up, winced at the pain and felt around in the semi-dark until I located the metal cord on the bedpost. Luckily for me, the clamp holding my wrist restraint had popped open, saving me from serious injury. I assumed I had been flung against the cupboard and the door had sheared off with the impact. I was going to have a few bruises to go with my sore shoulder and my head throbbed as it had when I first woke up on this damned boat. I felt around and there were mercifully no cuts or lumps there, but the back of my head was sore where it must have rammed into the door.

Then a thought flashed through my mind. Did I dare hope? I pushed at the cabin door and almost wept in joy as it opened a fraction.

Slumped back on the bed, I took stock of the situation. I unbuckled my arm and ankle bands. It was strange to be without them after so long and I had barely realised I was still wearing them I was so used to them. It was only then I felt my collar chain as it dangled between my breasts like some arcane pendant necklace. I unclipped it from the collar and left it with the bands. I reached up to remove the collar but something stopped me. I had always liked wearing chokers and there was something about the feel of it. It could stay for now.

Slowly and unsteadily, I made my way up to the top deck. The sun was low in the sky so I took it to be late in the day. I must have been out for a good few hours. Then my heart sank as I saw a bank of thick, menacing black clouds on the horizon. Lightning flashed within them and distant thunder rumbled ominously. As I wondered where it would be best to hide from it, I felt the wet deck under my feet and a light breeze at my back.

Of course - the storm had passed. It was moving away. I turned and sighed in relief at clear blue sky and calm waters as far as the eye could see. The distant shore of the island shimmered in the heat-haze. I could only hope the storm had missed them.

Things were looking up but I needed to restore power. And I needed to find out what had happened to Amelie. I looked around the deck and damage seemed to be minimal to my untrained eye. It was apparent they had lost a few sun loungers and the colourful awning I had spent so long beneath, but otherwise everything seemed intact. I righted two overturned loungers, but the one dangling from the Starboard rail would have to wait. I saw two others bobbing gently on the water about fifty yards away along with the awning, some stray lifebelts and other unidentified detritus.

It took me ten minutes to find the fuse box in a small utility room off the galley. The main switch was tripped to the 'off' position. I turned it back on and lights began to flicker as the generator kicked in.

I was unused to the layout below decks. I had really only been in Engine Room Two and most of my movements had involved the blindfold. The first two bedrooms I tried were empty. Clearly, they had been used by her friends but that was all. Amelie wasn't in the main bedroom, but my eye was drawn to a bank of three screens and a control panel on one wall. As I expected, each screen showed a different hi-res view of my former prison room. Below the screens were a microphone and speaker and a few rocker switches. I tried them in turn and stopped at the last one. At least I now knew how the lights, restraint releases and the shower door were controlled. I assumed the last one was the sprinkler and left it alone.

I eventually found her in Engine Room Two where I had been strapped to the chair. If she had been strapped in as I had been, she wouldn't have been thrown out of it when the storm hit. She wouldn't be lying naked on the floor in a foetal position, surrounded by broken glass. I could only assume that she had been flung against the bulkhead and the tall wall mirror positioned to give a perfect view of the chair had shattered with her not inconsiderable impact. Most of the wooden frame lay across her back.

She lay so still that at first, I feared the worst. I leaned in close and at least she was breathing. It was shallow, but it was something.

Then I saw the blood. Oh fuck, I hate blood. There was a pool of it under her and a thick trail ran down her back from her right shoulder, which was obscured by the mirror frame. It had almost dried, so she had been there a while. She groaned softly as I took hold of the heavy frame and moved it off her. Shards of glass fell out onto her skin and as I made to brush them away, the source of the blood became apparent. Embedded just below her right shoulder blade was a ragged sliver of glass about six inches long. It had gone in deep and at an angle. Her skin bulged with almost three inches of the shard in there and a wave of nausea swept over me. It needed attention quickly and I wasn't sure if my first aid skills were going to be up to the job.

As I cleared the rest of the glass from around her, she stirred. I barely heard the words she was so groggy. "Wh... wh'appen?"

I grimaced as she turned her head to reveal a lump near her right temple the size of a golf ball. "Your fucking prediction that we would be fine was way off, lady. Nature happened. Don't move - you've been hurt."

She let out a weak laugh. "Fuggen' right it hurts."

I managed to get her coherent enough to point me in the direction of the medical kit. Equipped for being at sea, it had all I needed except for one thing. As Boo had used it on me, I knew there must be some on board, so I went back down and asked her where it was.

"Galley - under sink. Wha' want tha' for?"

I told her she had three choices. I could use the chloroform on her, punch her on the swelling on her head to knock her out or just stitch her up there and then and listen to her scream.

Unsurprisingly, she chose the former option.

It took a while but I got there - seven fairly rough stitches and a waste of good vodka to clean the wound. When I had a swig for courage, it burned and fizzed in my empty tummy. I needed food and fast. I applied a field dressing and hoped the stitches would hold.

Getting her to her feet when she came around was an issue, not least in trying to avoid the broken glass that littered the room. I knew how I felt after the chloroform, and I shuddered to think what it was would be like on top of her head injury. I put some aloe vera on it but otherwise my limited medical skills were just about exhausted.

I am tall at five feet nine but it was still an almighty struggle. My sore shoulder didn't help, but I got her upright and began the long walk downstairs. I needed time to think and I needed her out of the way. I knew just the place.

After much pulling, pushing and cursing we reached my former prison. She stood in the doorway, looking down at me, her eyes glazed, thumb pointing behind her. She sounded like she had drunk a bottle of rum. "No' goin' in theh."

To the indignation of my aching shoulder, I raised my hand and held my fist close to the livid-looking egg on her head. "I will if I have to..."

She flinched backwards, nostrils flared and stepped back into the room, looking daggers at me. I swung the door shut and pressed the lock button.

I went back up in a daze. I checked on the screens in the master bedroom and she was on the edge of the bed, head in her hands. She got up and stumbled to the toilet and I looked away as she was violently sick, her body shaking as she retched. I went to the galley and filled a bottle with water. I found some painkillers and took two myself. Back downstairs, I opened the hatch in the door and pushed through a tray with the water, Advil and a bag of ice.

From inside the room, I heard a weak, "Thangyou..."

Okay, she was sorted for now - time to get myself back in the game. I found some ready meals in the freezer and by the time the microwave had done its job, my mouth watered and my stomach grumbled. Jerk chicken, rice and beer - just what I needed. Feeling much better, I checked on her once more. She was flat out and I expected her to be so for some time.

I thought about a session on the chair, but I would need to clear the glass away first. That could wait - I was sure I could find something else to amuse me on this floating sin palace. The first thing I found on a more detailed search of my new bedroom was my case containing my little bag of weed. I was delighted to find a few ready rolled ones just waiting for my attention. I found some sun-cream, popped the cap of another beer and went up on deck. There would not be much sun left, but as Amelie had said when I was first strapped to her barrel, the sun and redheads are not the best of friends. I needed some sunlight after days of incarceration and slathered myself copiously before I lay down on one of the loungers, fired up the joint and knocked back the cool beer.

As the sun set, I looked around this gorgeous yacht, the distant island, the warm inviting Caribbean Sea. I held in the last of the smoke for a long time before depositing the remains over the rail. I finished the rest of the beer slowly, savouring it as the vivid colours on the ocean turned ever deeper.

As I lay there, relief swept over me. I was free of my prison. I was back to being Jade Valerie Spencer.

Then I thought again. I had no idea how far I had progressed in my 'examination'. I began to wonder if the storm had not only washed away anything not strapped down, but also my chances of this becoming my default lifestyle.

I lay there in confusion as the sky darkened and the stars came out. I went over in my head the events of the last few days. Now, away from my cell, everything seemed much clearer. The things I had done as Girl Seven were a revelation to me and I recalled them all as if watching a newsreel.

I went back down below decks and a quick search in Engine Room Two produced what was required. Back on deck at my rum barrel, I lay across it and slid the vibrator home. I gripped the rings I had been tied to so often and wished they were all standing around me once more, waiting to take me any which way they chose. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I came, some from the sheer elation of the racking orgasm, but others from the thought that this all may be short-lived.

Girl Seven should be consigned to history, but from the sound of it, she wasn't going quietly.

Jade or Girl Seven?

That night, I slept on-deck under the stars. It was utterly magical lying there with a tapestry of a billion pinpricks of light over my head with no light pollution to ruin it. My second joint enhanced it all and the bottle of wine I liberated lasted me deep into the night as my fingers danced and various things buzzed and vibrated for my pleasure. I turned the lounger around as dawn broke and got a spectacular sunrise to put a beautiful full-stop on what had been a very fine night indeed.

After breakfast and a leisurely shower, I looked in on my prisoner. She paced the small area between the bed and the wall and seemed stronger. From what I could see, her dressing was clean. As she was recovering well, I decided to play some games with her.

One night she had taunted me with pictures of lobster and champagne as I ate bananas and drank coconut milk. I found pen and paper and drew a few little pictograms - a coffee pot, some fresh fruit, a glass of mango juice, a fat spliff and a glass of champagne. Ok, I was going to save the latter two for later, but they were there for poetic effect. Underneath, I wrote, 'What Girl Seven is having.'

I toasted two stale pieces of bread, found the coconut water I had seemed to live on, added two more Advil and another bag of ice.

As I passed them under the door, she took the note and I heard a genuine laugh. "Nice one!" Her voice sounded a little stronger.

After availing myself of the first three items on my list I went and cleared up the mess in Engine Room Two. It took ages to clear away the broken glass and mop up the blood. I thought of turfing it all over the side but decided against it. The poor oceans had enough to put up with without that. I broke the rest of the glass out of the mirror frame and got it all into a tough-looking rubbish bag. It could wait until we got ashore.

Which got me to thinking - I still didn't know how long Marcel was going to be away. There was no way I could drive this bloody monstrous floating palace and while I am a good swimmer, I didn't know what lurked in the depths between here and land, which looked a very long way off.

No, we were there until whenever he was due to return. There were plenty of essentials - dope, booze and artificial aids - so I'd be ok for a while at least. I laughed to myself - there was also plenty of food and water - just in case I needed them.

Then I remembered that I had the means of finding out exactly when he was due back. I went to the control panel in the bedroom and leaned towards the mic. Unsure as how loud it would be, I turned up the knob next to it.

"Can you hear me?"

The way she shrieked and curled up on the bed with her hands over her ears at my deafening voice and the howl of feedback led me to believe that maybe she could. I put a hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh as she winced.

"Merde, fucking hell, please turn it down!"

At least she sounded better. I yelled, "Sorry!" into the mic making her cringe once more and giggled to myself as I turned the level down as the feedback assailed her. "That better?"

"Thank you."

"No problem, Girl Eight. How are you feeling?"

That laugh again. "Girl Eight, eh? So the tables are turned! Felt better, Cherie, felt better. Having fun up there?"

I purred. "Mmmm, sleeping under the stars, weed, wine, masturbation. Just the thing after solitary confinement!"

Her voice was sardonic. "Yes, I'm sure it's all going so well. How about using the radio and getting us some help?"

I swallowed hard. I had never even considered the radio. I knew there was no cell phone reception out there, but I wasn't sure I'd even be able to work the radio. Instead, I went on a wing and a prayer. "Radio's fried. Storm took out a lot of shit."

As she groaned, I asked her when her husband was due back. As I had done, she had lost track of time and I had to tell her the day and date. My heart sank - he wasn't due back for another five days.

Despite my disappointment, I thanked her. "Well then, looks like we're stuck here with roles reversed, eh? How's the head by the way?"

Another groan. "I think I've stopped seeing double now. I was just getting a nice little glow on in the chair when I was catapulted head-first into the wall. Fucking mirror - knew it was a bad idea." She flexed her shoulder. "Thanks..."

"You're welcome. Speak later, Girl Eight - I gotta hot date with a spliff, a bottle of Carib and a drop-dead gorgeous fucking-machine chair!"

She scowled up at the camera. "No smoking below deck!"

I laughed. "And you'll stop me how?"

I cut the sound and gathered what I needed for the rest of the morning. It was early, but I had nowhere else to be. I spent way over an hour in the chair, denying myself each time I got close, taking it back almost to a standstill before squeezing down on it and going up through the gears once more.

I felt relaxed after my joint and decided to take a break and explore the cupboards around the room. I found some clamps and shivered as the rubbery ends closed over my puffy nipples. I lubed up a butt plug and gasped as it slid home. I walked through to the galley and grabbed another beer. It wasn't yet midday. Jeez, this was the life - half stoned, a nice beer buzz and a machine that never said 'no'.

Afterwards, as I slathered on high-factor gloop in preparation for an hour on a sun lounger, a thought came to me. Jade Spencer would have just turned it on, turned it up and gone for it. I had teased myself for almost ninety minutes until I couldn't hold back anymore.

Girl Seven wasn't going quietly. She wasn't going at all. Girl Seven was starting to take over. I looked at myself in the mirror in the bathroom. There were the same green eyes staring back at me, the same shoulder-length red hair. The same subtly enhanced breasts, the same clit ring. I was still thirty-three years old, but I felt like I had grown up somehow.

And I thought to myself, 'All the same but slightly different. Am I looking at Jade Spencer or Girl Seven?'

I took mercy on her that evening and microwaved one of the ready meals. I poured a small glass of wine along with the usual pills and ice. My note this time read, 'Upgrade to Business Class!'

I spent the night on deck again and next morning I gave her a proper breakfast. She didn't know it, but I had decided to release her. I thought about setting the sprinkler going first, but seeing her lying on the bed quietly, I realised it may not be a good idea. She still didn't look in great shape and despite the temptation, I resisted.

Instead, I flicked on the mic switch. "Whenever you feel up to it, Girl Eight." Then I opened the shower room for her and went down to open the prison door. She was already showering and I left a huge towel on the bed along with one of her many white bikinis I had found in her bedroom.

I went up on deck and pulled a sun lounger near to mine. I oiled myself and waited. It was fifteen minutes before she emerged. Her head appeared in the gangway, her short, white-blonde hair matted to her head. She looked around and saw me lying a few yards away.

I lit the joint I had been cradling awaiting her arrival. Water sluiced from her as she closed the short distance between us. She hadn't bothered to dry herself - in this heat it would take seconds. Naked apart from the bikini bottoms, her white hair and the white fabric were an amazing contrast to her skin and the water droplets shimmered in the sunlight.

I held out the joint and she shook her head. "Not something I care for, thank you. Don't suppose you have a cigarette?"

My turn to shake my head. "What you said."

She turned away, her voice sounding wistful. "Sensible girl. Gave up a while ago, but every now and then..." She went silent for a moment then waved an arm around the scene. "Quite something, huh?"

I took another hit. "Now I can see it properly, yes."

She sat down on the lounger opposite me and picked up the beer I had set out for her. "Bit early for me but given the circumstances..."

She drank half the bottle before holding it out to me. I tapped mine against hers as she smiled ruefully. "Thank you for not throwing me overboard!"

"Two things there - I'd never have got you upstairs - down was bad enough. And secondly, I wouldn't have had all the fun I've had with you."

She looked at me levelly. "I like you. You've got spirit." She flexed her shoulder and touched her forehead. The swelling had reduced but was still visible. "Thank you - I won't say you saved my life, but you did a good job of patching me up."

"Not sure you deserved it, but hey - I'm a sucker I suppose."

She narrowed her eyes. "So - I put you through sexual hell. You punish me for punishing you. Do I now punish you for imprisoning me? Where would it end, huh? Will we still be here when we are old and grey, kicking shit out of each other?"