Love in a Changed World Ch. 16

Chapter 16:

I.

We got dressed and set out for the docks. We were quite the party. Of course there was me, and my budding harem. And there was Midge, Misty, Beth, and Bella. The girls had brought along some companions some I recognized; some were new to this moveable feast. Nadia, Pudge, and I, despite our brief tryst were ready ahead of the others and hopped over in the compound's van on the first trip Manalo made to bring supplies requested by the yacht's sous-chef and bar man. We leaned on the yacht's upper deck railing and watched the other

Midge had brought along Mike -- the poor bastard she'd nearly drown last night. He was, in fact a local lifeguard and, in fact, bore an unfortunate resemblance to David Hasselhoff. He immediately became Michael Knight in my mind -- after Hasselhoff's character in Knight Rider. He looked like a lifeguard -- tanned muscular physique, chiseled jaw, dark sunglasses, and sun-bleached hair. He even had the red swim trunks. Midge decided to play along and had found herself a red two-piece lifeguard swimsuit -- the kind that's a sports bra top with sensible bottoms. She wore a pair of very brief navy-blue shorts that stopped abruptly at her hips. She had a nice tan that, apparently, she intended to work on more as she shimmered with coconut oil. The effect on her defined abs was marked. The oil accented each ridge in her eight-pack.

Misty had asked Denise -- the muscular blonde tank of bouncer from the nightclub. The bouncer wore a black one-piece swimsuit with red shorts. Every part of her rippled with muscles that almost seemed to strain like tightly coiled springs against her tanned skin. Misty was the image of shipboard fashion. She had on nearly translucent white billowy jacket that was open in the front. A white bikini showed off her other-worldly legs. Oversized sunglasses and white sunhat completed the mean-girl vibe that I knew was a façade.

Their "guest" did not. I recognized Misty and Denise's "friend" from the hot tub last night. He carried -- struggled -with, their bags. He limped up the ramp. "Put the bags in my cabin and wait there outside the door." Misty commanded. The boy nodded. "Naked," she added. The boy didn't respond. Misty grabbed him by the collar jerked him off his feet and threw him to the floor. The bags were strewn on the deck.

She stood over him and asked, "Did you hear me, you weeping sore on the ass of humanity?

The boy nodded and stood. Misty picked up one of the bags with one hand and tossed it to him. He caught it but collapsed with its weight. "Go. Now." The leggy blonde commanded. The boy struggled to his feet, then struggled with both the girls' bags and he disappeared into the ship.

"What did you bring?" I asked noted the obvious weight of the bags.

"Some eveningwear, a few swimsuits, exercise clothes, a couple of nighties," Misty answered, "Oh, and a fuck-load of plates from the weight room -- I'd like him to feel like he's doing something." She laughed and her and Denise made their way aft."

Bella came onboard with two of her dancing buddies from last night. Pretty much standard college guys -- jocks from the looks of them. They weren't the ones I saw her grinding the shit out of. Perhaps these two were held in reserve for today.

Beth was the last to board. She was followed by her merry trio of loveable gearheads. They were more like the walking (barely) wounded at this point. Manny worked his way aboard on crutches; his knee was in some sort of blue neoprene and metal brace. Moe -- who'd actually made it out of the club last night had a similar brace on his right wrist and bruising extending from his right shoulder up that side of his neck. And, there was Jack. I'd last seen Jack or Jack's feet sticking out under a table at the nightclub while Beth pummeled his face and neck in unconscious fury. He had bruising on his face that was indicative of a broken nose and wore a soft neck brace. The boys nodded to us -- well Jack waved -- as they boarded.

Beth skipped over Her dark blue one-piece was evident under a sheer coverup. It was very -- I don't know -- "womanly" and contrasted with her girlish look and demeanor. She gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek like she hadn't seen me in a year when she'd been my "minder" last night while I was passed out. "I see the boys rallied," I observed pointing at her mangled trio.

"I know -right?" She said, giving me a fun, but too hard punch to my sore shoulder. She pretended not to notice but clearly did. She explained, "I told them it was fine if they didn't feel up to coming, but they were talking about the boat and how they saw it come in. They heard something about how fast it is for its size and wanted a look around."

"Ah, that makes sense." I replied, thinking "And there is the prospect -- certainty - of wild beach and at-sea maniac sex with the red tornado." Beth skipped on to find the others.

"Those poor boys," I said out loud, "That girl doesn't know her own strength.

"Or does," Countered Nadia.

I guess either was terrifying.

Our vessel was an 85-meter-long custom-built white motor yacht. Shimmering white, she had the long sleek lines of the pleasure cruiser she was. Steel hulled, over-built, and over-powered, she could cut through the water at up to 50 knots. There were two master suites, seven staterooms, a few other nice guest cabins, various indoor salons, game rooms, bars, and dining areas. The was a small pool and hot tub on the fantail and a sun deck forward. She had a well deck that houses two excursion boats that matched the mothership in power and style. She carried a crew of 30 to conn and serve the ship as well as meet any wish from the guests. The Red Ensign hung from her stern which was emblazed in gold with "Dulcinea - Hamilton, Bermuda"

The Commodore waved to the guests and gave a jolly salute to Nadia and Midge as they boarded. He stood on the flying bridge as the crew made ready for departure. He stood about 5'9' had a trim red beard, black eye patch over his left eye. He wore a tropical white uniform the shoulder boards adorned with bar and circle rank insignia of, well, a commodore, and three award ribbons on the left chest -- he was entitled to more but only bothered with these. He turned and limped on an artificial leg in the bridge.

"See. 'Pirate', Gar." Midge whispered to me and jabbed me in my aching ribs as she went by.

Sir Stephen St John Smythe, VC, KCB, Royal Navy (ret), was the younger son of a bankrupt earl. Faced with the prospect of an arranged marriage to merge the family's unprofitable lands with better ones, he ran off and joined the Royal Navy at 16. By 27, he been brought up from the lower ranks - more through the efforts of his brother - the new earl - who couldn't have his brother at his table in his enlisted man's uniform - than through any perceived effort or drive on his part.

Shortly thereafter, Lieutenant Commander, The Honorable Stephen St John Smythe found himself somewhere the Royal Navy wasn't quite ready for - an actual shooting war. At San Carlos Water in the Falklands, the unassuming and quiet officer found himself on trigger end of a manually aimed .50 Caliber machine gun. The gun was older than its current operator and it represented his landing ship's last remaining and woefully outdated defense against jet-age aerial attacks. The gun's crew had been killed by a strafing Argentine A-4 Skyhawk. That same plane banked around for a bomb run, blasting away with its 20mm cannon as it bore down on the doomed ship. Wounded and bleeding, the young man took control of the gun and engaged the Skyhawk. To the surprise of everyone except the young lieutenant commander - who'd spent his Summers shooting a lot of skeet to win pocket money, he put a half dozen rounds in the Argentine pilot's chest. The Airedale nearly had his posthumous revenge as his strafing cannon rounds exploded St John- Smythe's remaining ammunition. He woke up on the hospital ship SS Uganda missing his left eye and his left leg below the knee. His actions were adjudged to have saved the ship and 500 Royal Marine Commandos.

For his heroic action, he received an eye patch, a prosthetic leg, a Victoria Cross, a knighthood, and a medical discharge. Unemployed and broken at 28, he was hired up by Nadia's grandfather as "commodore" of the family's yacht flotilla. Apparently, some relative of the family had a nephew hunkered down on that landing ship. Lifetime employment was therefore a given. He was now in his 60's. With his rakish looks retained, a red beard, the eye patch and wooden leg, he looked like, well, a pirate. The young folk of the family accepted his having raided the Spanish Main as a given.

"Are we British now?" Pudge asked gesturing to the Red Ensign.

"The Commodore usually flags the yachts in the closest available British Overseas Territory," Nadia explained. "He says, 'Aye, the family's money can buy most things, but the VC can get us anything the money can't if you know where to spend it'." I laughed at Nadia's pirate-speak. The Commodore didn't talk like a pirate, but he did know he could get anything he needed from the local administration of a British colony by tapping the ribbon on his chest and telling the story of San Carlos Water. He also drank for free in the mess of any Royal Marine detachment anywhere in the world.

"I still think he's a pirate." It was Midge. She'd come up behind us as the yacht's gangway was drawn. A horn was sounded, and the yacht pulled away awkwardly it seemed.

"Madame Nadia, Miss Mary." A formal, but kind voice with a tinge of accent remaining after 40 years surrounded by "colonials" as he called Americans.

"Commodore Steve!" Midge hugged the average sized, red bearded man. She practically lifted the old salt off the deck. She released.

"Sir Stephen," Nadia extended her manicured hand. The officer too took it and kissed it, then went about his business.

"We're off for the Dry Tortugas," he started. The yacht surged and he continued, explaining, "I've first who's ready for his own billet, who is currently learning to stand on his own. He has a third he wants for a second who is currently taking us out." It wasn't an apology, merely an explanation. The Commodore drove his officers and men hard, but they were well trained and handsomely paid. Rough start or not, the third at the conn was ready, if he wasn't the prospective captain will let him know why. He went on, "We should be two hours out. Plan is for the day is to anchor in Bird Key, luncheon ashore, tea at your leisure, and supper aboard. We will then make a night cruise arriving back in the morning in plenty of time for your guests to make their flights."

There was a pause.

Nadia realized the old man was waiting for her approval as the senior member of the family aboard. "That sounds great, Sir Stephen, please proceed." Nadia told him.

"Outstanding, Madame Nadia," Sir Stephen replied, "There is brunch on the fantail, I believe Chef Alfonse has graced us with his beignets." He nodded to Midge as he turned to depart.

"Yeoooowweee," Midge exclaimed as she made for the fantail. The old sea dog was always a favorite of the family's children. Having none of his own, he doted on them. Even the few with genuinely loving parents found fatherly, or in Midge's case, grandfatherly affection from the man. He knew the teen had a love for his chef's beignets and what grandfather isn't indulgent?

I snickered, "Madame Nadia."

She elbowed me in the ribs hard enough that I staggered a step to the left -- port as it were. "It's because I'm married," Nadia explained, "He's a very formal man, and observes the conventions of address to a married woman even if she's married to a dolt."

"Yes, sir, Admiral of the Blue, the Lady Nadia," I made a mock salute as we walked to the fantail. "England expects every man to do his duty, and all that."

She rolled her eyes at me but giggled. I did love making her laugh.

II.

"I think I'm going to go to our cabin to unpack." Nadia said but didn't move. I was waving to a few folks on shore as we pulled into the Gulf of Mexico in earnest. "I said, 'I think I'm going to go to our cabin to unpack'." Nadia repeated. I didn't think we had that much stuff. I don't usually unpack my bag on an overnight stay, but Nadia is obsessive about organization.

Also, I'm an idiot.

Nadia grabbed both my upper arms, pulled me to her, and pressed her lips to mine. It was about as amazing a kiss as one might have with a stunningly beautiful woman in the tropical sun cruising on a luxury yacht. Her tongue dance in my mouth. She pulled me into her a little more and raised bare thigh against my growing manhood. She pulled her lips from mine and released me from her grasp. The started to walk past me, running her hand diagonally down my front and across the rising tent in my pants. "Maybe, you could help me," she "suggested" and she walked by. Her hips swayed in her short red and yellow sun dress.

I decided I should go help.

She turned a corner into the first level and caught the stairs to the level where our stateroom was. Now, in addition to having a lot of familiarity with her family's yachts (which were laid out mostly the same), Nadia tends to make a point of memorizing the layout of anywhere she's going to be for any length of time. I was less familiar and had gotten lost a couple of times before find our suite. The sitting area of the suite was spacious with a small bar, a private dining area, and some comfortable lounge furniture. I opened the bedroom door to find in darkened out.

I walked in a few steps and realized my eyes were not very useful given the sudden transition from the tropical sun to darkness. The only light came in through the door, and that was suddenly gone as the door closed behind me. It had to be Nadia. She was somewhere in the darkness -- stalking me. "Marco," I said, hoping she might respond. She didn't. I took a couple of clumsy steps in the dark and tried again., "Marco."

"Polo," came the whisper so close behind me I could feel her breath.

I spun and reached out, but she was gone -- damn she was fast.

"You're going to have to be quicker than that," her voice came from my right. I took a step that way. My eyes were starting to adjust, but the room was designed so it could be completely blacked out and it was. I stumbled. I opened my mouth to call out to her.

"Polo!" She said loudly from right in front of me.

Before I could react, I was in her grasp. She wrapped her arms around me, locked me in a kiss, and then threw me onto the bed. I expected her to land on top of me, but she didn't. A dim light came on and I saw her. She moved from the light switch to the bed slowly. Her sundress was gone. She was completely naked, and I was speechless. "You're want to get those clothes off, or should I rip them off you?" She didn't have to ask twice. I was out of my clothes in an instant. I stood to meet her at the edge of the bed. "I didn't say you could get up," she said with a wry smile.

Let's see how this plays out, I thought. I said, "Well' I'm up. I guess you'll have to decide if you want to do something about it." Did I mention I'm an idiot?

Nadia's smile went from "wry" to "bemused". She put her hands on my shoulders and kissed me. She pulled away, the smile left her face, and she said, "You are a stupid, stupid little man." She started to push down on my shoulders. It was light pressure at first. Then it started to build. I brought my hands to her wrists an pushed back. She increased the pressure a bit. I bent my legs and widened my stance to increase my resistance. Again, she pushed harder. I was starting to buckle. I strained further and gave it everything I had. I was sweating with exertion. I looked at her.

She was just "there". Like she was waiting in line at the grocery store. I was pushing with everything I had, and she wasn't even sweating. She looked me in the eye.

And smiled.

She then pushed me down like I wasn't even there. I crumpled to my knees out of breath. A few moments passed while I composed myself. She saw I was catching my breath, and said, "And now you have to pay for your insolence." She sat on the edge of the bed, and commanded, "Turn around." This time, I didn't resist. Her legs went over my shoulders and she took my head into her hands. Then she pushed my face into her fabulous hairless pussy. I worked my tongue into her. She supplemented my work with her own grinding. She moaned in pleasure. "Don't stop. Don't stop," she said breathlessly. I a couple of minutes, she was cumming. She shuddered. I could feel the muscles of her body tensing and releasing. She pressed my face harder into her, cutting off my air. I pressed as hard as I could against her thighs, but she overpowered me. I stopped trying and hoped her orgasm would end before I did.

She started to relax just when I thought I couldn't las any longer. She released me and flopped back onto the bed. I was panting myself. Naturally, I was slower to recover.

She sat back up after a couple of minutes. She put her put her hands under my shoulders and pulled me on top of her as she lay back down. She pulled me close and kissed me, and said, "We're not done." She rolled us over. "Wait here," she told me. I wasn't going anywhere regardless.

She got up and went to her bag. I was suddenly concerned she'd come back with Pudge's strap-on. She didn't. She came back with a set of leather restraints. I was confused. If she wanted me restrained all she had to do was hold me down -- she'd proven that over and over. She walked around the bed, attaching a restraint to each corner of the bed. Then she lay on the bed. And started by attaching the leg restraints to her feet. "I can't do the hand's myself," she said to me. The implication was that I was now going to restrain her hands.

"Nad, I don't know about this," I said timidly.

"It's the only way. It's your turn to take control," she explained.

I nodded and began to fasten her wrists to the bed.

"Tighter," she commanded, then explained, "They have to hold when you make me cum." I cinched both wrist restraints as hard as they would go. Nadia gave each a pull. I thought the bed might shift, then remember -- we're on a boat -- it's secured to the floor. I realized that was why she hadn't done this before now -- she needed a steel framed bed like this that was secured to the floor. She must have been worried that she might break the bed. Nadia finished her test and said, "It's good," then she paused and said, "I'm helpless. Take me."

She lay spread eagle on the bed. I knelt between her secured legs. I ran my hands up to her breasts, massaged them, then ran them down her body. I massaged the creases of her legs around her hairless cleft. I was rock hard.

I crawled up her body until I was straddling her. "Open your mouth, whore," I ordered. Nadia glared at me -- I'd never called her anything like that before, but I was feeling the moment. I was scared for a second, then found my courage. I reached back and grabbed a nipple and twisted. Nadia yelped. "Open your mouth," I repeated omitting the slur. Nadia complied. I took her head in both hands and said, "Good girl," and jammed my dick into her. I fucked her throat hard, and she took everything I had. I could have easily cum like this but decided to stop before I did.

I got up. On a hunch, I went over to Nadia's bag of tricks. I found what I was hoping I might -- a foot long dildo as wide as a soda can. "You want to know what this feels like in your ass, whore?" I asked. Her eyes went wide. In my mind I was hoping she might say a clear "no", but she didn't. I took some lube from the bag and squeeze it on the ram.

I climbed back into bed and fingered Nadia's pussy. She was definitely ready. Then I fingered her ass and positioned the dildo. She moaned as I pressed it against her hole. "Take it, whore," I said as I rammed the monster into her. She screamed, but I put my hand over her mouth. The monster had a vibrate feature, and I activated it. She began to moan. The I put my cock into her hairless wonder. She started to scream again. I twisted her nipple again, "Quiet, whore." She cut herself off.