In the early briefings, Groff and Bibi discussed arms and attire with the Norquists and agreed that while there would be no topless appearances by family or anyone else, there would be occasions when nude swimming would be permitted, as long as proper security was posted and the crew was more or less under control. A few days later, as the vessel continued to slowly work its way on a southeasterly course, BJ and other officers asked and received permission to have a sun deck created for the crew, aside from and out of sight of the family’s private sun area. The boat’s engineers went to the task with enthusiasm and constructed an inconspicuous, slightly raised wooden deck, surrounded by lightweight shutters that could be easily lowered flat to the deck. This area was just forward of one helo pad. Building this crew R&R area was a major coup for the BJ team, because the women happily used the space at every opportunity when off duty and credited the BJ team for it.
Privately, Jean and Bibi debated at great length what weapons they wanted to have ready at hand on this cruise. Unlike smaller private yachts, which often had one or two guns aboard for emergencies, Altuna’s substantial private armory was an anomaly. Tremendous sums had been spent to assure that her defensive weapons were all legally registered with the governments in virtually any port they might visit. On occasion, overly officious customs officials would come aboard demanding to see the armory and its contents. If they persisted, they were courteously, but firmly ushered into the owners’ suite. There they were shown, with great formality, the bound volume of sealed documents indicating that no one less than the current national head of state in whatever nation they were in had signed off on Altuna as an honorary vessel in that country’s navy and that the Captain was ranked as no less than a full admiral in that organization. This demonstration, plus a few well placed and generous gifts, always sent the customs teams scuttling back to their crappy little offices, often to discover a couple of dark-suited, unsmiling federal government goons waiting for them, anxious to discover why these petty customs bureaucrats were interfering with vessels of import to the head of state. If the customs personnel were fortunate, they received little more than a chewing out by the official visitors. However, if their presence on the yacht had resulted in an official complaint from the owners or captain, the port would quite suddenly have new customs personnel and those who visited and annoyed Altuna would disappear, sometimes forever. The lucky ones simply went back to their offices and meditated on why in God’s name they had even attempted to question the yacht’s documentation.
***
“I was wondering when we’d get some time together,” Jean Groff said as she stood at the bar in her suite. “We are entitled to some private time, don’t you think?”
“Yes. I suppose so, but I doubt we’ll have much this time,” said Bibi, who lay on the massive bed, watching her partner and friend pour the sparkling Sekt and wondering how the two of them had ever managed to become friends and partners and more. They were not alike. Bibi was muscular and a bit rough around the edges. Groff was slimmer, more polished, diplomatic and less impulsive. Yet they worked well together and had endured challenges that would have destroyed other professional and personal relationships years ago. Still the bond went deeper than their professionalism and they sought private time with each other whenever the opportunity arose. This morning, they were on call, but off duty as the yacht cruised slowly to a new island destination. They were making the most of it and had requested that breakfast and the wine be delivered from the master galley and left outside the suite at an early hour. Now they were relaxing and doing some planning.
“What do you make of this whole thing?” Bibi asked slowly, her words coming more as verbal thoughts than as a sentence. The short silk robe she wore was open and revealed her large, already well-tanned, firm breasts, a white cotton thong and showed a few of her many scars from encounters past and recent. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and shone from the careful washing given it the night before. She was propped up on one elbow, still looking out the huge horizontal port at the passing ocean.
“I have been working on that since I got here,” Groff replied, slowly easing the cork out of the bottle top and allowing the internal gas to escape quietly. Groff was never one to pop open any champagne bottles. It just wasn’t her style. “But I think we need to be very alert for the unexpected. Norquist has some shadowy contacts, including, according to some of our sources in Germany, a company connected with your friend Brillcart.”
“I saw that,” Bibi said, thinking of the somewhat cryptic message from Frey that came to her hotel in Miami the day before departure. “I also suspect that there might just be ties with some of the old Amsterdam gang.”
“Yeah. Just what we need,” Groff added, pouring a second glass of wine for Bibi who had immediately downed the first in a single swallow. “Gees, Bib, you drink like you haven’t had any liquids for days.”
“This, my dear Groff,” Bibi said, holding up her half-empty glass, “is not exactly a wine to be savored. It goes down better in long draughts, like this,” and she emptied the glass again, holding it up for refill, but placing her free hand gently around Groff’s neck and pulling her friend and the cold bottle down on the bed with her. Groff responded easily to the invitation, placed the half-empty bottle on the table next to the bed and snuggled up along side of Bibi, the front of her clean and starched white shirt totally open and bringing two fine pair of breasts into direct, intimate contact. Their bellies met as well and, with legs open and parted, they began to nuzzle and kiss each other gently. Bibi put her arms around Jean’s waist and brought her thigh up into close contact with Jean’s sex. Groff copied the move and they rolled over on the bed, with Groff on top, her unbound dark hair flowing down over their faces and Groff moving slowly down from Bibi’s lips to her neck to her breasts and then slowly, lower.
Chapter Eleven
Taken
The two surly deck hands who bumped into Groff and Reinholt earlier concluded that Groff was a pushover and assuming thus, they picked up one additional partner and moved down the portside passageway with less than necessary stealth. They made more noise than they should have. As they approached Groff’s cabin door, the largest of the three, who was an assistant engineer, stumbled and grabbed the doorknob for support.
Jean heard the noise and was suddenly awake as the masked trio burst into her cabin. She went for the knife under her pillow, but before she could bring it into play, two large women were on top of her, pinning her to the bed and putting a pillow over her face. She struggled and tried to yell, but they were much stronger, heavier and had the advantage of surprise. She was soon on her belly, screaming into the pillow while both of the women sat astride her waist, while the third twisted her hands behind her and bound her wrists with a nylon quick tie. The second assailant did the same to her flailing feet. Once they had her immobilized, they completed the binding with a second thin nylon tie above her knees and one at her elbows. As they bound her arms, they pulled them painfully back until the elbows touched and forced her abundant chest forward. All three women commented lewdly about her tits and what they’d do with them as soon as they got her where they were taking her. One seized her by the hair, pulled her head sharply back and jammed a gel-filled plug into her mouth. She secured it with a spider web of thick straps that encompassed her head and created not only a secure base for the gag, but also a harness that could be used to control her with the same intensity as it might a horse or a dog. The arrangement sealed not only her mouth, but also the area between her chin and her nose, making breathing more difficult. To cap these moves, they added a padded leather blindfold over her eyes and then wrapped Jean in a blanket. They picked her up and took her out the cabin door and into the dimly lit passageway, down a steep flight of service stairs and dumped her into one of the tanks that was empty. To make sure she wouldn’t flee the sealed tank, they locked a steel collar around her neck and attached a short chain from the collar to a ring welded to the side of the tank.
Bound, gagged and blindfolded, chained to the tank and still stunned by the sudden and unexpected attack, Jean lay on the tank’s smooth steel bottom, breathing with some effort through her nose, trying to determine where she was and how she got there. The hatch to the tank slammed shut and, if she had been able to see, Groff would have noted that the lights went out. It was deathly silent in the tank. Considering that the yacht was plowing along at 15 knots through the calm Caribbean Sea, Jean noted that there was very little sound and only the distant whine of the turbines and a very faint vibration from the cold metal steel on which she lay. Meanwhile, the phone at her empty bedside rang and rang.
***
Much later, while Groff dozed and pondered exactly what was going on aboard the yacht, the tank hatch opened and someone entered. The hatch clanged shut and someone touched Jean’s ass with what felt like a wooden stick. There was a thud as something heavy and jingling hit the deck near her head and then she felt the cold grasp of heavy, thick manacles being locked around her wrists, slightly above the nylon bindings, which were then cut off. The cool metal was a relief, but allowed only slightly more motion. When Jean tried to shift her position, the stick that had poked her ass descended on the same area, this time meeting flesh with a loud hiss and thud, and leaving a wide red welt. No words were spoken, but the message was clear and Jean stopped struggling as the mark of her buttocks sizzled and cooked.
They put similar steel cuffs on her ankles, around her legs just above the knee and above her elbows. A heavy chain was put around her waist and locked there. They pulled her to her knees and held her in that pose while another chain was connected to the back of her collar, pulled down and locked to her elbow cuffs and then to the back of the waist chain. Tension in this chain along her spine was increased so that in order to breath, Groff had to bend her head back, reducing the pressure on her neck. But they weren’t finished with her. The spinal chain went from her waist to the rings on her ankle shackles and ended at a ring on the deck. Groff was now bound in this tight kneeling position and was not going to be able to move much, no matter what she wanted or what they did to her. The steel bands around her lower thighs were pulled outward and chained closely to rings in the deck after her legs were pulled wide apart. The bondage was brutal, precise and complete. She tested the position and earned another telling blow from the cane, this time across her naked breasts.
The end of the heavy cane was placed under her chin and the holder forced her to raise her head until, if she hadn’t been blindfolded, Groff would have been staring at her punisher. Groff waited. The collar-to-feet chain tightened more. Another chain, locked to the front of her heavy collar, extended outward and went to a ring on a nearby tank wall that Groff faced.
“You will make a video for us,” the voice behind the cane said, quietly. “You will explain to your partner that if she doesn’t give herself up you will be tortured and perhaps even put to death.”
Once again the cane jabbed her under the chin and Groff, getting the message, tried to alter her position. Nothing moved except her toes and her fingers.
“If you agree to this, nod your head once,” the woman said.
Groff didn’t move.
“I thought you’d be stubborn, but that is fine with us. We will enjoy making you do our bidding. All in good time. Are you sure?”
She could nod her head slightly, but she didn’t and everything else was now stabilized, static. Legs spread wide, collared to the bulkhead in front and from behind down to her nearly joined elbows, wrists, waist and ankles, she was unable to shift or move. The bondage was thorough and tight. Immovable.
The hatch of the tank opened again and Groff heard what sounded like one person leaving and another entering. Again, the hatch closed and locked. Groff knelt on the hard steel deck, tugged slightly at the heavy restraining chains and waited. The new occupant of the tank was apparently just watching her and she heard rustling of clothing and then she felt, amazingly, that a naked body was sliding up under her. She felt warm bare skin, decidedly that of a woman, moving slowly between her legs and then she felt hands reaching up to her breasts, caressing, moving lightly over the swollen weals from the caning, touching softly and then kneading the nipples. The hands persisted, arousing Groff despite her intent to not let this happen. The body under her moved again, sliding, slithering easily between her wide-spread thighs. She felt warm breath between her legs, parting her carefully trimmed pubic patch and then a light probing, an eager, wet tongue, poking, pushing aside the lower lips, insinuating itself into her cunt, sliding inside the now open passage, working with skill and energy to bring about those feelings and desires that Groff, in her heavily restrained state, could no longer resist.
Groff tugged at her chains, but her bonds were secure. Her elbows were linked nearly touching, her wrists pulled downward towards her chained ankles, her head held immobile by the front and back chains, the deep gag and blindfold sealing the sensations into her upright head.
The alien tongue was now inside her, surging and jabbing, working her insistently. And then the lips and whole mouth followed, smacking and sucking, the teeth nibbling with abandon, the tongue going deeper and Groff now panting through the gag, moving her hips and ass in a their restricted pose, engaging and encouraging the head and lips and mouth so intent on plumbing her very inner depths.
The head under her was relentless. The mouth was talented beyond anything Groff had ever experienced and it went on and on until she realized that this had all started three orgasms ago and was still continuing. The sounds of sucking and slurping were not the only noises in the tank. Groff herself was shouting into the penal gag, surging now against the restraining chains, tugging incessantly against the chains that held her between the wall and deck, hammering her unrestrained hips up and down and in a circular pattern as the mouth continued to do its work. Jean Groff came again, for the fourth time, a muted scream breaking out from under the mouth-sealing leather gag, her eyes running with tears, her cunt sopping with multiple liquids. Then the tongue stopped and the mouth pulled away.