She had waited five years for this trip. They had scrimped and saved every spare penny they could find. Tommy had researched to find the best deep-sea sailing ship and had selected a refurbished Westsail 32. The owner built it as a kit in 1979, and it was obviously loved. Yet, he grew too old to sail it by himself and rented it on occasion so that “she could stretch her sea legs.”
They planned their supplies and packed carefully so that everything would fit. As they were loading the boat, she saw a box marked, “Do not open. Surprise inside.” Curious. But, she obeyed, as she always did whenever he would give her a direction. Well, that is unless she WANTED the consequences for disobedience.
They were two days out to sea, and the box had not left her mind. WHAT IS IN THE BOX???
Three days out, and still no answer to her questions.
After dinner on the fourth night, he told her to go stand by the mast. She obeyed. He disappeared into the heart of the ship and returned with the box. “Turn around to face the mast, Angela.” She obeyed. She could hear the tape ripping from the box. Then she heard a sound she knew very well: handcuffs.
“Wrap your arms around the mast.” She obeyed, and he secured them at the wrists. He went behind her to the box and she could hear him removing things one-by-one, and he laid them in her peripheral. She knew better than to look directly, but she struggled to see what she could without being caught. Floggers. A crop. A switch. Her favorite vibrator.
He stood directly behind her and untied her bikini top, letting it drop onto the deck. He slid her bottoms down her legs and off her feet. After picking up the crop, he tapped the inside of her ankles to indicate that he wanted her to spread her legs some. She obeyed. He pressed hard against her, forcing her to lie up against the cold mast. He leaned close to her ear and whispered, “We won’t need the gag this time, because there is nobody near enough to hear you scream.”
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