Holiday Slavery

H O L I D A Y

B O N D A G E

Chapter 10: Life on a Slave Ship!

We got up very late the next morning. My Mistress had coffee and toast sent up while I showered ... and then bathed and dressed her. Over breakfast, she told me more about the ship and crew.

Not only were all the passengers B&D fans, but the whole crew as well; the officers and senior crew members were all Masters and Mistresses, and they all owned one or more of the slaves that made up the rest of the crew, like deck-hands and stewards. When on duty, these wore collars (but usually nothing else!) to mark them as crew and to indicate their job; off-duty, they were confined to the crew slave-quarters or to their owners' cabins unless the owners chose to join in the passengers' activities. While the slavery in the crew ranks was full-time and virtually permanent (but voluntary nonetheless), most of the passengers were people like my Mistress and me -- with an 'occasional' or 'part-time' Master-Mistress/slave arrangement.

By this time we'd finished our breakfast, and I was as anxious as she was to see all this in action. Before leaving our cabin, she called Master Paul's, but there was no answer, so she took me on a leisurely tour of the more interesting parts of the ship.

It was the same ship, of course, yet everything seemed different. There were Masters and Mistresses everywhere with their naked or near-naked slaves. Some of the slaves wore no shackles at all, but others were shackled or even quite heavily and elaborately harnessed. The most noticeable thing was that everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves; if orders were given in sharp tones, or slaps for minor errors were given with apparent anger, or ropes were pulled tight with real strength, it was all in fun and part of the game.

I recognised some people from the first few days we'd been aboard; and it was quite strange to discover which of the people we'd met then were Masters or Mistresses and which were slaves! But there were others whom I didn't know, and I asked my Mistress where they had come from.

"Well," she said, "there are a number of holiday itineraries available. Some of the people who sailed with us stayed on board for the whole two-week cruise; others got off at the island, and are staying either until the ship calls on the next cruise, or even for longer periods ... months or years! Their places were taken by people who had disembarked on the last or earlier visits. You didn't guess, did you, that some of the people we saw on the island would be coming back on the ship with us?"

She was right, of course; there were some faces I recognised, not from the first days aboard, but from the island. And it sometimes wasn't only faces I recognised; it was also the naked tits and cocks and balls of slaves!

"There are rules and conditions here, too," my Mistress told me. "Not just for slaves, but also for us owners. For example, we have to respect the 'ownership rights' of other Mistresses and Masters, and not use their slaves without their permission and the slave's consent."

A few minutes after saying this, she seemed to break this very rule. A male slave, naked except for ankle shackles and handcuffs behind his back, passed close to us; my Mistress stopped him and spent a few moments fondling his body, especially his defenceless cock and balls! He submitted without a murmur and even thanked her politely when she'd finished.

I wasn't game to question her actions, but she saw the confusion in my eyes and explained with a smile: "There's an unwritten agreement that, if a slave is shackled and unaccompanied by an owner, it's an open invitation to any Master or Mistress for a quick fondle. You better remember that! Of course, if you're not willing to submit to that, I can always hang a note to that effect from one of your nipples or your cock!"

The passengers and (off-duty) crew-members were enjoying a wide variety of activities. Some were swimming or just lounging about and soaking up the sun; a few slaves were deepening their tans whether they liked it or not, spreadeagled to rings in the deck or even tied to a slowly-turning spit arrangement! Others were playing ship-board games, but nearly all the activities had some bondage-oriented twist to them!

For example, even the simple activity of swimming was different for slaves; we were expected to do it while wearing shackles of some kind or another! In most cases, this meant only a short 'hobble' chain between the ankles, allowing the small kicking action required but nothing more; but some stricter owners even insisted on their (presumably more experienced) slaves swimming with their arms shackled behind their backs!

The only way this could work was for the slave to do a kind of back-stroke, using just the kicking action to move through the water. We saw one slave-girl who was very good at this, and she looked good too; her large breasts thrust proudly skywards as she lay on her back and paddled to and fro across the pool, smilingly accepting the frequent caresses of Masters and Mistresses as they swam alongside.

We came upon one 'sport' that interested my Mistress enough to stay and watch; after a while she said to me "I'd like to try this -- how about it?" A few minutes later the opportunity arose to join in and I found myself (with a number of other slaves) acting as a target for pistol-shooting practice! Fortunately, the pistols fired harmless soft plastic pellets!

We slaves were bound in a line, spreadeagled and facing my Mistress and the other 'marksmen'; our faces were covered with transparent plastic masks, but the rest of our naked bodies were totally exposed to their aim. I found myself tensing as my Mistress raised her pistol for her first shot; there was a soft 'pop' as it jerked in her hand, and I felt a sharp (but by no means painful) sting somewhere on my chest, followed by four more scattered over my torso.

When all the 'marksmen' had completed a group of five shots, a slave crew-member came to each 'target' in turn and held a sheet of transparent plastic against our naked bodies. It had circles marked on it, like an ordinary target, which were used to determine the score by the spots of coloured dye carried in the tips of the pellets. The circles showed how close each shot had come to one of four 'bulls-eyes' -- not surprisingly, these were (in order of increasing value!) our navels, both our nipples and our cock and balls or (for female slaves) their pussies!

Due to the low power of the air-pistols (deliberately so, in order not to inflict real injury), they weren't particularly accurate. There was a lot of good-natured banter between the 'marksmen' and the onlookers when shots missed their naked 'targets' completely, or when a shot scored on a 'bulls-eye' other than the one aimed at; such scores were deducted from the shooter's total. In spite of this inaccuracy, my Mistress did manage to score one shot exactly on one of my nipples and another right on the tip of my cock ... and I discovered that what was only a sharp sting on my chest or belly, was a good deal more uncomfortable on more sensitive parts of my naked anatomy!

Afterwards, my Mistress chatted with three other 'marksmen' over a cup of coffee. They were all Mistresses with their own slaves, two of them males like me and the other a female. I recognised one of the men, having met him during the first days of the cruise; and the slave-girl's face seemed somehow familiar although I was sure she hadn't been there then.

Naturally, since we were merely slaves, I couldn't simply ask her where I'd seen her before ... not without risking my Mistress' displeasure and probably some punishment! (I had to content myself with smiling at her and admiring her well-tanned and well-shaped, if slightly plump, naked body and attractive face!) But an opportunity arose almost as soon as the Mistresses had settled down in four comfortable deck-chairs.

I discovered that, although the crew slaves provided the amenities like bar service, it was still the duty of us 'passenger' slaves to actually wait on our owners. In fact, it turned out that I and the slave-girl (her name was Lindy) had to wait on all four Mistresses, because the other two male slaves were wearing shackles that kept their hands securely behind their backs.

While we were fetching the coffee and cakes, I asked Lindy about her stay on the island; and we soon realised that it was she who had 'scrubbed me down' in the prison yard ... was it only yesterday morning?! My cock stood up at the memory of her hands soaping me all over -- as well as at other memories of the prison, some painful, some very pleasant.

Lindy noticed and smiled at me. "I hope that means you enjoyed it," she said. "I enjoyed doing that to lots of slaves like you -- and to a few girls as well! I'll tell you all about it if we get a chance, but now we better be good slaves and shut up," she finished as we got back to our Mistresses.

"So what were you two nattering about?" Lindy's Mistress asked her as she poured the coffee. Lindy told her and she replied, "Why don't you tell him the whole story? I'm sure Mistress Tina would enjoy it too."

Lindy obeyed cheerfully. "You see, Peter, I spent a whole week of our visit in that prison, and my Mistress specifically asked for me to be given that chore as often as possible, because I'd been quite reluctant to touch other slaves, especially males. Now I'm completely cured of that!" she grinned.

"Tell them why you were in prison," prompted her Mistress.

"For deliberate and persistent impertinence, ma'am," said Lindy humbly. But then she grinned up at her Mistress and went on: "It was deliberate; I wanted to find out what it was like in there, but I didn't want my Mistress to have me put in just to humour me. So I misbehaved until she'd had enough and 'accused' me at the public punishments."

She went on to describe vividly her 'prison term': the long hours of 'hard labour' (like soaping naked slave bodies!); the heavy shackles she wore most of the time, particularly at night for sleeping; the frequent, but not unpleasant, fondling that all the 'inmates' had to accept from the 'guards'; the tight bondage that was a big part of every day; and the occasional quite severe punishment given to some 'prisoners' (who all freely admitted they were real masochists and loved it!). As if her story itself wasn't enough to excite me, all four Mistresses took turns in giving us three male slaves a very thorough and intimate fondling!

"Well, so much for your tale of woe, slave-girl," said Lindy's Mistress at last. They smiled at each other in a way that clearly showed how much they both enjoyed this game. "But now, Tina, we'd all like to hear a bit more about your slave's rather unusual experience yesterday!"

By this time my Mistress had a stock reply to this request. Many of the passengers (and most of the crew) that we'd met had said how glad they were that I hadn't decided to opt out because of the 'abduction' and they were all very interested in hearing more about it. After the umpteenth query about it, my Mistress started to tell them that she would discuss it with Master Paul and maybe they could tell the story publicly as part of the cruise entertainment.

She was able to talk to Master Paul at lunch a little later -- we had been allocated to the same table. At least, my Mistress and Master Paul shared a table with several other Masters and Mistresses; Helen and I and the other slaves had to stand or sit or kneel on the floor (depending on the individual owner's mood)! Master Paul was all in favour of telling the 'abduction' story and the officer sharing their table (a Mistress who happened to be involved with entertainment arrangements) promised to fit this in to the programme and advertise it.

After lunch my Mistress and Master Paul found a quiet corner on deck where we could be relatively private and chatted about their respective discussions with Helen and me last night. Helen begged permission to show me how very glad she was that everything was OK between my Mistress and me, and proceeded to press her magnificent naked body against mine, wrapping one arm around my back and the other around my neck, and practically sucked all the breath from my lungs with a long deep kiss. One word from Master Paul and I think she would have seduced me on the spot ... and I wouldn't have resisted!

During the conversation, Master Paul said to my Mistress with a grin, "I gather that slave Peter knows all about your little escapade the night he was with Mistress Anne."

"Yes," replied my Mistress coolly. "So slave Helen even told you that she told him. I think she needs a good scolding -- or worse! May I?" Master Paul nodded with a smile and my Mistress went on, her voice like a whiplash: "Come here, slave-girl! Hands behind your back!" When Helen obeyed, she took hold of one nipple between each thumb and a finger and began to pinch and twist them.

"I don't like my secrets spread around ..." her soft voice was like ice "... especially not by talkative slave-girls! I've a good mind to punish you severely!" Looking directly into Helen's eyes, she continued to squeeze until nervousness and a touch of fear was plain in them ... then suddenly let go, bent down and kissed each nipple, and said to Helen with a big smile, "But I won't! I do understand why you told Peter and I forgive you. I just thought a little scare might stop you doing it again."

"Very neatly done!" applauded Master Paul. "But tell me -- does your slave now show any interest in turning the tables on you for a bit of variety?"

My Mistress was ready for him. "No," she said calmly. "I'm quite sure my slave is a true submissive. But he tells me that you'd be willing to oblige me if I wanted to continue my experiment in that side of things!"

Master Paul was clearly taken aback, but he recovered quickly. "I see! My slave-girl's been spilling my secrets too. Come here, wench!" He subjected Helen's nipples to the same treatment, only considerably harder, saying, "I can also understand why you told slave Peter ... but you should have told me last night that you'd done it." Gasping with the pain in her nipples, Helen said, I'm sorry, Master ... I forgot ... truly I did!"; with a last twist Master Paul released her nipples, kissed them and said gently, "OK, I believe you.

"I wanted to make the suggestion to you myself," he went on quite smoothly to my Mistress, "but the offer still stands. What do you say?"

"The answer is no," replied my Mistress firmly ... but then she hesitated. "Wait a minute -- I've an idea. Have you tried the submissive side yet?" Master Paul shook his head and she continued, "I could offer to bring your experience up to the level of mine, but instead I propose a contest ... with a small advantage my way! ... the loser to be the winner's slave for a few hours. What do you say to that?"

After a little thought Master Paul agreed. They discussed what the contest would be and settled on a game of strip poker, with my Mistress starting with one or two more articles of clothing to bet with. I'd seen my Mistress play poker and I knew she was a very competent player, but Master Paul was obviously quite confident; "When I win," he said smiling, "maybe slave Peter's fears will be fulfilled."

"What do you mean?" asked my Mistress.

"Oh, didn't he tell you?" said Master Paul. "He thought you and I were screwing that night; that was why he started to rebel, he was jealous!"

I looked at Helen and an involuntary cry came to my lips. "Oh Helen -- that was my secret!"

My Mistress came to my rescue. "He did tell me, actually," she said to Master Paul, then went on to Helen: "You've been spilling everyone's secrets, haven't you? To be fair all round, I think you should give slave Peter a go at your nipples, too ... don't you agree, Paul?"

Helen didn't even wait for Master Paul's approval. She turned to me, put her hands behind her back and said softly, "I'm sorry, Peter, I didn't realise it was so important to you. Now give my nipples a good hard pinch!"

But my moment of anger had passed. I just bent down and gave each nipple a gentle but erotic kiss; then I said, "It's OK, beautiful. I guess we slaves just don't get to have secrets, eh?"

My Mistress wasn't quite satisfied, however. "I still think some punishment is appropriate for all this chattering ... I know! We can put something in her mouth to stop her talking, and I have just the thing! Let's go see if there's a bondage room free right now!"

There was. The ship had quite a number of rooms set apart for bondage, from small to quite large and from well-lit cheerful places at deck level to ominous semi-dungeons deep in its holds. Most were in use almost round the clock, we were told, but we did find one that was available for the next hour or so.

On the way there my Mistress whispered her idea to Master Paul and, when we entered the small well-equipped room, it took them only moments to carry it out. Master Paul tied Helen's wrists and elbows tightly behind her back, stretched her ankles apart with a spreader bar and then suspended her upside down from a strong pulley in the ceiling. Meanwhile my Mistress tied me to a triangular frame, placing a knob at its apex right on my anus and strapping both my knees and ankles to the two sides; my feet didn't quite reach the floor, which meant that some of my weight was resting right on that knob!

She didn't tie my hands in any way, but instead passed a rope under my armpits and tied it to a ring in the wall behind me and adjusted its length so that I was neatly balanced on the base of the triangle. Master Paul had by now lifted Helen's inverted body so that her head was at the level of my hips ... and I began to guess what would be blocking her talkative mouth!

Master Paul gave me permission to use my free hands to caress Helen's lovely body, hanging in front of me in all its beauty; but the rope under my armpits and the position of the pulley supporting Helen made it impossible for my mouth to reach her crotch. Feeling her smooth skin under my hands and tracing her generous curves with my fingers was enough to make my cock stand up, and my Mistress helped too by reaching between my legs and stroking it with one hand while fondling my balls with the other. Soon it was fully hard ... and then my Mistress fixed a rod between the top of the triangle and the wall, arching my bdy forward until my hard purple organ was only a few inches from Helen's inverted head.

"OK, slave-boy," she said as she and Master Paul stood aside to watch. "Shut this pretty chatterbox up with your cock! You can control how deep it goes into her mouth and how fast she gets you excited, but we want you to last as long you can without your cock ever leaving her mouth."

It wasn't easy -- but great fun, mind you! -- following those intructions. If I allowed Helen's mouth to cover only the tip of my cock, she used her teeth and tongue to great effect on its sensitive head; if I forced it deep into her throat, my arousal was almost greater. At first she took no notice of my pleas to stop the erotic action of her tongue and teeth, but I managed to 'persuade' her to co-operate by using one hand to pinch her nipples quite hard when I wanted her to stop nibbling!

I don't know how long I lasted -- it couldn't have been more than about twenty minutes -- before I was unable to control myself any longer. My urge was to push Helen's mouth even further on to my cock, but Master Paul gently but firmly pulled her head away, saying, "You can't come in her mouth; upside down, she might choke." My Mistress said, "Use your hands on your cock if you want to, slave" ... allowing me for the first time in ages actually to bring myself off. A moment later my purple cock spurted its fliud over Helen's gorgeous tits as my orgasm swept over me.

Afterwards, when my Mistress had made me milk my cock almost dry, Master Paul made Helen lick it clean and then take its limp form back into her mouth while I obeyed his orders in fingering and caressing her wide-open pussy hanging so conveniently in front of me. She made no attempt to excite me with her teeth or tongue as my fingers traced her pussy-lips, plunged deep into her open cunt and wiggled at her sensitive clit. Under Master Paul's guidance, I kept her highly aroused without letting her come ("She's been a bad girl, and doesn't deserve it," he said!); but this very activity, plus the sensations caused by her moans of pleasure, soon had my cock filling her mouth again.

Our limited time in the room prevented my reaching another climax; when we were untied and followed our owners out, I was frustrated ... but much less so than Helen! She hadn't lost her spirit, however; she smiled at me and said with a twinkle in her lovely eyes, "Was that fun for you? Got any more secrets for me to spill?" And Master Paul, overhearing, slapped her affectionately on the bottom and threatened, "Careful, you cheeky little gossip! Next time we'll tie you so that you can swallow it ... and then make him come once for every word you said that you shouldn't!"

We spent the rest of the afternoon sunbathing, swimming and watching all the other Masters, Mistresses and slaves 'at play'. I was fascinated by the many shapely naked slave-girls and -- perhaps even more so! -- by what was happening to them, and to the male slaves as well. My cock was in an almost constant erection ... not at all helped by my Mistress' frequent and casual caresses. Helen was clearly affected in a similar way; but her excitement wasn't as obvious as mine. The rule (for us both) against touching ourselves was in force again; I managed with difficulty obey it, but Helen succumbed to temptation once and then had her hands cuffed behind her back!

We also joined in some of the games. At one point Master Paul, who fancied himself as something of a marksman, took part in a variation on the pistol-shooting that my Mistress and I had played at earlier. This version was a good deal more difficult for the 'marksmen', because the 'targets' were moving while they were being shot at; and it was considerably less comfortable for the naked slaves who were the 'targets', because they were suspended from a gantry over the stern of the ship!

Helen was clearly not very keen on this idea when Master Paul expressed his interest, and he made it quite clear that he wouldn't force her to submit to it. But, after a short hesitation, she gave him a smile that showed some nervousness mixed with a lot of trust and said, "Yes Master, I want to please you; I'm sure it's really quite safe." My Mistress and I watched in admiration as she allowed her ankles to be securely strapped into thickly padded cuffs; then she and the other 'target' slaves were lifted upside-down into the air and swung a few yards beyond the rails that prevented passengers falling over the stern.

Their arms were not bound in any way; this was to give them a better chance of swimming in the unlikely event of their bonds failing and dropping them into the sea, we were told by the officer organising this game. He also told us that there had never been a breakage in the gantry gear but (to make doubly certain) a team of the best swimmers amongst the slave crew was on alert on a deck below with lifebelts and an inflated lifeboat ready for instant launching.

The naked bodies of the slave 'targets' swung gently back and forth with the motion of the ship, and even spun around occasionally giving the 'marksmen' a look at their backs and bottoms as well. Since hitting a target at all was so much more difficult, and it was impossible for the 'circles' to be held against them, each 'marksman' was simply allowed fifty shots at his or her 'target'. Of these, most missed completely and very few hit any nipples or cocks or pussies.

When Helen was returned to the deck and released, Master Paul inspected her naked body carefully for the tell-tale spots left by his pellets. To his disappointment he found only five; to make things worse, seven of his shots were found to have hit other targets, which meant that he had a minus score! But he took it all in good part, grinned at the teasing of the onlookers and concentrated on giving Helen a big hug and a long lingering kiss to thank her for her co-operation.

Most of the games were designed to accommodate both male and female slaves, but a few were more suitable for one sex than the other. One of these was the common ship-board game of deck quoits ... and I hardly need to spell out which sex played the main rôle, or why!! So it was almost inevitable that I would spend some time arched face up over a low bench with my cock tied to a rod protruding between my legs.

While Master Paul and Helen watched, my Mistress tossed a few quoits at my upstanding prick; then she stopped and said to Master Paul, "Why don't we give the quoits to your slave-girl? We could tell her how many we expect her to score, with a small penalty if she scores fewer." Master Paul agreed readily, and my Mistress handed the quoits to Helen; after some discussion, Helen was told that she should aim to get two out of three shots over my prick.

Tied as I was, I couldn't see Helen's throws; I could only feel them as the quoits hit me. The tension of wondering when and where the next one would land was quite exciting, and my cock stood up stiff beside its support, to the delight of the onlookers. And that tension wasn't just academic because, when a quoit was thrown correctly and accurately, it tended to hit me first on or near my balls ... which was distinctly uncomfortable although not really painful, thanks to its relatively light weight.

Unfortunately for her, Helen didn't achieve the success rate asked of her, and at last she had to pay the penalty. I didn't mind this bit at all, though, because she had to lie face down on top of me for it! Her gorgeous tits pressed into my chest, and I could feel her thighs clutching my cock, still tied to the rod. Master Paul applied eight or nine strokes across her upturned bum-cheeks, but I suspect without much strength, because Helen had a smile of sheer enjoyment on her lovely face as she stood up and waited while I was released. To our owners' question, we both agreed willingly to do this again sometime.

During the afternoon we also spent time discussing how we would present the story of our 'abduction and auction' adventure. It had been fitted into that evening's entertainment programme and, judging by the number of Masters and Mistresses who said they were looking forward to it, it would be well attended. We did want to give them their "money's worth," so we planned in detail who'd tell which parts of the story and how we'd try to give it visual impact as well. We even went into an unused room and rehearsed briefly.

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