tagNonConsent/ReluctanceThe Lust Boat Ch. 14

The Lust Boat Ch. 14


"Where are we going, mistress?" Lacey asked. They were in a part of the ship Lacey had never seen before. Angie had led her down one narrow, ugly corridor after another. It was strikingly different from the opulent carpeting and panelling in the portions of the ship used by the guests.

"So eager, little slut?" Angie raised a dark eyebrow. Her hand was locked firmly around Lacey's wrist as she towed her along.

Not that Lacey would have been able to run away in the heels she was wearing. She was barely able to keep from stumbling as she followed her mistress. When Angie had come to Lacey's room that morning, she had ordered Lacey to put on the strappy heels, along with stockings, a lacy garter belt, and a demi-bra that pushed her breasts up alarmingly. She hadn't provided any panties. When she'd caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, Lacey had been surprised to realize that the outfit made her look even more slutty than total nakedness would have. The garter belt and the tops of the stockings framed her sex, and her breasts swelled over the bra as if offering themselves to be touched.

"You don't have to wait any longer; we're here," Angie announced, pausing outside a steel door marked "Mess." "This is the cafeteria for the staff who run the ship. Not the people who make the videos and train the slaves-- they eat in one of the formal dining halls-- but the people who keep the engines running and steer the ship and mop the decks."

Angie reached into her shoulder bag and took out a velvet pouch. She poured its contents out into her hand: a string of beads consisting of one very large bead and then a series of smaller beads, culminating in a loop handle. Lacey eyed them with apprehension. She wasn't sure what they were for, but it seemed inevitable Angie had some perverted use for them in mind.

"We're going to go into the cafeteria, and you're going to approach whoever happens to be sitting closest to the door and persuade them to stuff all of these up your ass," Angie said.

Lacey's heart kicked. "What?"

"I think you could benefit from further demonstration of what it means to be a slave. I own you. I can give you away or lend you out anytime I want, even to a randomly selected stranger. And they will treat you any way they like."

"But--" Lacey's ass tightened involuntarily as she regarded the size of that first bead. It might feel good inside, smooth and full, if the person putting it in was careful. Or it might hurt a lot. Would the unknown person be rough with her? "Please, no. I don't want a stranger to touch me."

Angie's face was hard. "It has nothing to do with what you want. Either you get the first person by the door to do this, or I'll give you to the whole room to play with. There are probably about a dozen people in there. They've worked on this boat a long time, seen a lot of orgies, but they rarely get to participate. They've probably built up quite a lot of frustration."

Lacey shuddered.

Angie continued to outline the consequences of noncompliance. "It could take a while for twelve frustrated people to satisfy themselves. By the time everyone finished, some of the ones who went first might want seconds. I doubt even someone as slutty as you would be enjoying it by the end. So you'd better work real hard to get that first person to stick all these beads up your ass. Because you're going to be sorry if you fail. If they leave even one bead hanging out..."

"Yes, mistress," Lacey whispered, her mouth dry. Her hands clutched at the beads as Angie opened the door.

Their entrance caused a halt in the steady buzz of conversation. Everyone looked up at the intrusion. Lacey felt very conscious of the wisps of clothing accentuating her nakedness. As Angie had indicated, there were about a dozen people in work clothes seated at the round tables, mostly men. A few whistles and catcalls made Lacey blush, but she concentrated on finding the person she needed to approach.

*There.* The table closest to the door had only one occupant, a short-haired woman in Dickies and a workshirt with "Chris" embroidered on the pocket. Lacey was relieved that she was female, however butch she was.

As Lacey approached carefully in her heels, the woman looked up to meet her gaze. *Oh.* Chris was handsome, with dark hair and eyes that gave her the look of a prettier James Dean. Lacey bit her lip and dropped her own eyes. The rolled-up sleeves of Chris's workshirt revealed muscular forearms and strong hands.

Despite herself, Lacey was already wondering what those long, powerful fingers might feel like. She had always found butch women intriguing, but of course she could never have risked outing herself by associating with one. Straight-looking, feminine lovers had been safer for her acting career.

Lacey waited until she was close enough to speak softly, though she was aware that everyone else in the room was straining to overhear. "Hello, I'm Lacey. W- would you please put these beads into-- into my ass. I'll do anything you want. Anything."

Chris put down her soda and raised her eyebrows. "Is this some kind of joke?"

Lacey shook her head. She took another step closer, near enough to smell engine oil and degreaser from Chris's clothes. "Mistress Angie told me to get the first person past the door to do it. Please."

Chris looked past her at Angie, who was watching from just inside the door. "You really want me to play with your sweet little girlfriend's ass?" she asked Angie.

"She's not my girlfriend; she's my slave," said Angie. "Unlike many of the slaves you've seen on this ship, Lacey's not just playing along. I wanted her, I took her, and she has no choice in how I decide to use her. Which is not to say that she doesn't enjoy it.

"You can use those anal beads on her or not," Angie continued. "She knows what will happen if you don't. Either way, I'll enjoy watching and she'll learn a valuable lesson in humility."

Lacey handed the beads to Chris hopefully, watching Chris roll and fondle them. She wished she knew what Chris was thinking. Chris was actually quite attractive. Lacey's eyes followed the smooth line of Chris's jaw down her neck into the open V of her shirt.

Chris looked up and caught her looking. Lacey blushed. "I know pretty blonde girls like you," Chris said. "You want me to fuck your brains out, but you're ashamed to be seen in public with me." She stood up.

"I ought to fuck you til you scream right here in front of everyone, as payback for all the pretty girls who've ever asked me to be their dirty little secret."

Lacey felt unwelcome wetness swelling in her groin at that prospect. She licked her lips nervously. "Whatever you want-- just, please, put the beads in my ass, too."

Chris regarded her steadily for a tense moment. Lacey held her breath. "Lean forward over the table," Chris ordered, finally.

Relief flowed over Lacey's body in a warm wave. She pushed the lunch tray aside and laid her torso on the cool surface of the table. She turned her head, but she couldn't see Chris behind her. The sensation of a looming unseen presence was unnerving.

Leslie yelped when Chris snapped one of her stocking suspenders against her buttock. Several of the people in the room laughed.

"Spread your asscheeks with your hands," Chris directed. Lacey obeyed, feeling horribly exposed. She jumped at the featherlight touch of Chris's finger stroking down the sensitive groove.

Chris rolled the big first bead up and down Lacey's crack a few times. "You must be a real slut to be able to put something this big in your ass," she commented. "Do you let your mistress fuck you in the ass with a fat dildo?"

*Let her?* Lacey thought indignantly, *It's not as though I have a choice.*

Chris was annoyed at her slowness in answering. She pinched Lacey hard on the tender skin of her inner thigh. "Well, do, you?"

"Yes, ma'am," Lacey said.

"And does the thought if it always make you as sloppy wet as you are now?"

Lacey cringed. It was true; she could feel the air currents on her wet, swollen pussy. "Yes," she whispered.

"No wonder she picked you to be her sex slave," Chris commented. She rolled the bead around the puckered skin and muscle of Lacey's anus, massaging gently and insistently. "Matt," she called to one of the onlookers, "bring me the olive oil off the salad bar."

Lacey's gratitude, on realizing Chris did not mean to shove the large object in unlubricated, expressed itself in the form of a surge of even more moisture from her cunt.

Chris drizzled a little oil from the bottle over the bead and Lacey's anus. Lacey wiggled a little under the tickling trickle. Chris rolled the bead against the opening some more, feeling the muscle soften. She leaned over to speak in Lacey's ear. "Do you really want me to put this in your ass?" she asked. Her breath brushed Lacey's cheek.

Lacey closed her eyes. Angie had threatened her with gang rape if she didn't take these beads up her ass. But, all threats aside, she did want to feel Chris stretch her open with that round, smooth bead. "Yes," she admitted.

"I don't think everyone could hear you," Chris said, still leaning in close to speak confidentially. "Beg me for it loud enough that everyone in the room knows how much you need me to touch you. Or you don't get your beads, and your mistress will give you whatever punishment she promised."

"Please," Lacey's voice broke a little as she raised it desperately. "Please put the beads in my ass," she pleaded, practically shouting. "I need you to put them in." She burned with embarrassment. The other occupants of the room had crowded around for better views, and she could hear them snickering and commenting. She was pretty sure she could hear the snick of cell phone cameras, too.

But all that faded into the background as Chris began pressing on the large bead. It sank into Lacey's anus reluctantly at first. She moaned softly as the muscle yielded. As soon as the midway point was reached, though, her ass gulped up the bead with surprising speed, shooting its rounded bulk past the tight ring of muscle at the entrance and deep into her rectum. Lacey cried out at the ripple of cunt-clenching pleasure that accompanied it.

Panting, she waited for Chris to begin inserting the smaller remaining beads. Instead, Chris grabbed Lacey by the back of her hair and pulled her upright. Chris smiled as Lacey looked at her in confusion. "I think you should put my lunch tray away," Chris said.

"But I need you to put the rest of the beads in!" Lacey blurted out. She shot a glance at Angie, who tilted her head significantly toward the avid crowd. *Oh, God. If Angie says they can all have me, they are going to fuck me into a battered wreck.* She didn't dare tell Chris what Angie had threatened, for fear the others might overhear.

Chris smiled. "Then you should do what I say."

Lacey picked up the cafeteria tray, the bead's fullness shifting inside her. The group of onlookers did not make way for her to reach the stack of trays and the dish tub on the other side of the room. She had to push through them, feeling their eyes on the tail of beads that dangled from her ass and brushed against the backs of her stocking-clad legs with every step.

Having set the tray down, Lacey had to run the gauntlet again to get back to where Chris stood smirking at her. This time, the groping hands were bolder as she passed. Several times, she was forced to clench her asshole to keep tugs on the string of beads from dislodging the large bead anchoring them all in her ass.

Finally, breathing hard, Lacey managed to break through the scrum to present herself to Chris once again. "Please," Lacey said, her recent experience with the ungentle attentions of the crowd reinforcing her determination not to be their plaything.

"All right," Chris said. With an abruptness that sent a thrill of fear through Lacey's chest, the dark-haired woman seized Lacey by the upper arms, whirled, and pushed her back up against the painted metal of the bulkhead. The weight of Chris's body trapped Lacey against the wall. She squirmed a little, surprised at the ache in her clit engendered by her helpless position.

"Oh, you like to be forced," Chris said. "I can tell. I suppose that way you can tell yourself you're innocent. But nice, innocent girls don't get soaking wet when a big dyke shoves something up their ass and pins them against a wall." She picked up the hanging end of the string of beads and brushed them teasingly across Lacey's clit. Lacey jerked against her, hips tilting forward eagerly.

Gathering up a handful of the dangling smaller beads, Chris began stuffing them into Lacey's flowing vagina. Obscene squishing noises made it impossible for Lacey to deny that she was, indeed, humiliatingly wet.

Even with the beads twisting and slipping distractingly inside her cunt, though, Lacey was aware of Mistress Angie's stipulation. "My ass, please, I need them in my ass."

"Such a kinky slut," Chris taunted. But she tugged gently, so that a few beads, coated in Lacey's arousal, slithered out of her cunt. Chris's knowing fingers easily popped one of the beads through Lacey's asshole, pushing the big first bead even farther up her ass. Lacey moaned. The onlookers cheered.

Chris slipped another bead into Lacey's tight hole. Then, slowly and deliberately, she pulled it back out again. Lacey's sphincter clung to it, tugged outward by the pressure of the bead. The sensation was exquisite, but Lacey protested. "No, please! I need you to put them all in inside."

"Tell me you're a slut," Chris said.

"I'm a slut," Lacey said, despairingly. She was rewarded when Chris pushed the bead back inside her ass.

"Tell me you're a whore," Chris demanded.

"I'm a whore," Lacey said, moaning as another bead joined the three in her ass.

"And a fucktoy," Chris prompted.

Lacey hesitated. She hated being called that. Chris pulled a bead back out of her ass. "I'm a f-fucktoy," Lacey said quickly. The bead stretched its way back into her tight tunnel.

Chris pulled the rest of the beads from Lacey's cunt, cupping the glistening collection in her hand. "You've always craved the touch of butch dykes like me, haven't you?"

"Yes," Lacey confessed. With one long finger, Chris guided another bead into her rectum.

"When you touch yourself, you sometimes pretend it's someone like me stroking you, don't you?"

"Yes." It was true, though Lacey couldn't imagine how Chris had known. The beads in her ass churned as the tight orifice accommodated yet another bead. Despite all the exercises to develop added capacity to which she had been subjected, Lacey's ass was starting to feel very full.

"But you would have pretended you weren't attracted to me if you hadn't been forced to admit it," Chris said.

Lacey didn't say anything, unsure of what sort of response Chris wanted. Chris pulled the bead she'd just inserted back out with a "pop."

"You're right," said Lacey hastily. "I would have lied." She held very still, waiting for Chris's reaction. When it came, the pressure of the bead entering her anus was so welcome she couldn't contain her deep moan of relief and pleasure.

"Because you're a hypocrite," Chris said.

"I'm a hypocrite," Lacey agreed, arching her back as another bead slipped up her ass. "Oh, God."

"And a coward."

"A coward," Lacey whimpered. Eyes closed, she writhed at the pang of stretched fullness in her rectum elicited by another bead.

"So, in addition to enjoying it, you deserve to be raped like this," Chris said.

Lacey's eyes popped open. "What?"

Chris tugged warningly on the string of beads, pulling against the inside ring of Lacey's asshole. "You're a hypocritical slut. You want women like me to satisfy you discreetly, but you wouldn't admit to knowing me on the street. I'm just taking my due." Her dark eyes fastened on Lacey's blue ones. "You. Deserve. To be. Raped." She pulled a bead out despite Lacey's attempts to clench her ass hard around it. "Slut."

Lacey felt sick. She wished her clit would stop throbbing its approval of Chris's demeaning accusation, because her mind was horrified by it. Yet, if she angered Chris with a denial that she deserved to be raped, she would be repeatedly violated by everyone in the room. Was it so bad to mouth a few words conceding Chris's right to rape her if it would prevent a dozen more people from raping her?

*Yes, it is "so bad,"* she thought. To proclaim herself an irredeemable slut whose very existence merited the punishment of sexual violation and exploitation? To verbally approve of how she had been raped and violated by Chris and Angie and others? She cringed at the thought. But the threat of the alternative, hours of pounding abuse, was overwhelming.

"Yes," she said in a choked voice.

"What was that?" Chris asked cruelly.

"Yes, I deserve to be raped," Lacey said, tears running down her face. "Please, just put the beads in my ass."

Chris shoved a bead in roughly. Drawing her hand up through Lacey's pussy, she showed the generous sheen of cunt juices to the bystanders. "Just in case anyone was wondering if the little slut was getting off on this, here's undeniable proof."

One last bead, slightly larger than the others but not as big as the first, hung between Lacey's legs. All of this had been in vain if she couldn't get Chris to put that last bead in with the rest.

Chris flicked it back and forth. "That must be some punishment your mistress threatened you with to make you so desperate," she mused. "So you're her sex slave. That must mean she takes you whenever and however she likes. Is that true?"

"Yes," Lacey whispered.

"She uses you for her pleasure and violates that sweet body in unthinkable ways?" Flick, flick. Chris batted the bead harder.

Lacey trembled. "Yes."

"And there's nothing you can do to stop her, whether you like it or not?" Chris's eyes were glittering hungrily. She teased Lacey's asshole with the bead.

"No, nothing."

"But you do like it. It makes you come hard when she rapes you because you're a born fucktoy, aren't you?" Chris pressed gently upward on the bead.

"Oh, God, yes, I'm her fucktoy!" Lacey exclaimed. "Put it in my ass, please! I'm a fucktoy!" She nearly sobbed as the last bead shot home, leaving only the loop of the handle outside, snug in her asscrack.

Sagging back against the bulkhead in relief, Lacey caught a glimpse of Mistress Angie's face over Chris's shoulder. She had thought Angie might be disappointed that her slave had managed to complete her challenge and avoid punishment, but Angie looked flushed and triumphant instead. *She probably loved hearing me scream that I'm her fucktoy,* Lacey thought, ashamed.

"I'm not done with you, slut," said Chris, reclaiming Lacey's attention. "You got the beads up your ass like you wanted. Now I get what I want."

Lacey swallowed in apprehension. Chris stepped back, grabbing Lacey by the shoulder and spinning her so her back was against Chris's front. The rough cloth and fasteners of Chris's work clothing imprinted themselves on Lacey's skin. She could feel the slight curves of Chris's breasts against her shoulders.

One of Chris's large, strong hands wrapped itself around the vulnerable column of Lacey's throat. Lacey felt her pulse battering against Chris's grip. Chris didn't exert more than a light, warning pressure. She didn't have to; Lacey understood.

With her other hand, Chris pulled Lacey's breasts out over her skimpy bra. The dozen or so onlookers had arranged themselves in a rough semicircle facing the two women. They cheered as Lacey's breasts were fully exposed.

Chris's skillful fingers on her nipples weakened Lacey's knees. Lacey's breath caught, and she became even more conscious of the pleasurable pressure of the beads in her ass.

"That's right," Chris growled in her ear. "Stuck-up little bitch likes to pretend she's put off by me. I'm going to demonstrate in front of God and everyone how you really feel about me touching you."

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