Abduction Pt. 07

"In't that pretty," said Bill.

Celia had not missed the second coil of rope. Nor was she missing the steady rubbing against her of her captor's jean clad erection. Old Bill picked up the coil. Celia knew she was about to be 'dressed.' Old Bill worked quickly and deftly. Celia was surprised how soft the hemp rope was. She had expected it to be hard and prickly: not a bit of it but it bound her all the same.

Trussed she still had movement where her captor let her but she was just so conscious of that knot sitting right atop her clitoris; just any movement made it rub; it was firm like a permanent thumb pressed against her. Along each of her labia she could feel the twin ropes and where they rose up between her cheeks.

At least like that, Celia thought, the twin ropes protected her from being taken by the seamen until the rope was removed - or cut.

"Bill, can I...?"

"Just a bit, Zakky but no injectin' mind. The catch is to be packed unspoilt."

'Packed?'

Zakky grasped Celia firmly across her chest, the rubbing stopped and behind her she could feel some fumbling and the sound of a zip. The sort of sounds and fumblings of a man trying to get his erect penis out of the confines of his trousers. Behind her she knew a man's penis - Zakky's - was being brought out into the open.

She could feel it rubbing on the soft skin of her bottom - firm yet soft; she felt it in the crack of her bottom and then she felt it pushing at her sex.

'No go!" She thought but she was wrong.

The rounded knob was clearly pushing the ropes to the side; Celia could feel the tightening of the ropes and the knot being pulled tighter against her clitoris as the penis pushed its way through and slipped up into her. She wondered whether the feel of the twin ropes either side of the penis, a tight constriction, added to the man's enjoyment. A squeezing and perhaps the feeling he was being held inside her.

Next to her. Celia could see her friend receiving just the same treatment.

"No cummin' lads. Just a bit of a fuckie - tha's all."

Old Bill was half looking at the scene, half pulling a pair of long wooden crates into view. They made a scraping sound on the old boarded floor. Despite having ejaculated so recently in the boat, Celia was not sure if his penis was actually thickening at the sight of the two girls being fucked. He did not seem to have bothered with putting his old clothes back on; seemed unconcerned being unclothed with his friends. Perhaps they were some of his old shipmates he used to swim naked with; perhaps shared all sorts of adventures and shenanigans - both with and, perhaps, without women...

"Time to do the packin' lads. Out yer come!"

The penes were removed, with some reluctant grumblings, and seemingly a little difficult due to the constriction of the ropes. The girls were made to walk to the crates and then came a little more tying of ropes. Their ankles were bound together and their hands tied to the Karada rope corset. Celia could see how well the series of diamond patterns down the body gave ample opportunity for further ropes to be anchored. With her hands tied close to the twin ropes going between her legs any movement exerted pressure, tightening them - particularly pulling on the knot on her clitoris.

One by one the immobilised girls were lifted and placed in the crates. Natasha lifted first as Celia watched. Her lovely friend, gagged and with ropes crisscrossing her body, digging a little into her beautiful black skin, was lifted by the two fishermen, still with their erections sticking out of their jeans and carefully lowered into her crate.

"I forgot the eye masks."

Doris Day like black frilled eye masks were produced and fitted to the girls. Celia could no longer see and just felt rather than saw herself lifted and placed in her crate. There was a rustling and Celia felt what seemed like tissue paper being placed over her before she heard and felt the lids being nailed down.

What was happening to them?

Celia felt her crate being lifted and carried, presumably outside. Despite the tissue paper she rolled around inside the box knocking herself a little against the sides but she could not bang on the sides to call for help - or indeed call at all. She was totally bound and gagged.

Loaded, she thought, onto a lorry and then feeling every bump and jolt along the road, particularly on that so cleverly placed knot on her clitoris. It was not her bound hands or feet or even the taste of the gag in her mouth that she found her mind focussing on but that knot - so soft yet so persistent and just so there.

The lorry stopped. More jolting. Celia knew the box was being carried - but where? Was Natasha's box still with hers or had they been sent to separate destination? Different people with different tastes having ordered them, no doubt for carnal purposes?

Finally the box was at rest and then there was silence. The wait unnerving. What was to happen?

The sound of the lid being levered open made Celia jump but there was no flooding in of light as the lid was lifted. With her eye mask on she could see nothing, nothing at all.

A rustle of tissue paper being moved and then Celia felt herself lifted out and placed on the floor. The sound, or at least that was her surmise, of her crate being moved away and then, after a few moments, perhaps the rustle of tissue paper and the slight thump on the carpet was the sound of her friend being removed from her crate. Perhaps they had not been separated. Again the sound of a crate being taken away.

Celia tried rolling a little but it only served to move that knot again. And then her feet were untied.

Trying to stand whilst your hands are tied - to say nothing of being blindfolded, gagged and very disorientated - is not easy. Celia found herself bumping into Natasha doing the same - if it was Natasha. She could not, after all, see but most certainly it was a naked person.

Standing just touching the other naked person for a sort of reassurance - Celia so hoped it was her friend, but it might well be another woman or a man - she waited for what was to come next.

Next proved to be a touch, a touch to her bare skin, and then another. Was it one person or several? More touching, sometimes intimate - close to or actually on her more personal areas - other times not; sometimes with fingers, sometimes not; was that the brush of a penis, or not? Was it a single person or rather more? She knew she was both being touched and examined; her nakedness on show to whosoever was there.

Was it Natasha she was touching? Perhaps it was a man, a naked man, standing just like she, and being touched. Perhaps another captive. Probably already erected, the gentle touch of fingertips brushing his body and penis resulting in an inevitable involuntary rising. He would not know if the gently fondling fingers were male or female or both. Would know, though, like Celia he was on display. She could not imagine he would be other than a fine figure of manhood, his penis impressive and so on display to the watchers. They would not have chosen him else, surely.

Celia was not sure whether it was worse for a man or a woman to be so exposed to watching eyes but be unable to see who was looking. Perhaps it was the same - or did having an erection make it worse for a man? That so visible sign of sexual excitement being inspected and touched by persons unknown. Celia, though, was aware of her erect nipple and clitoris: but the latter was hidden by that worrisome knot. It was just as she was thinking how hidden it was, that a finger was crooked under the rope and she knew the knot was being drawn aside and her little erection exposed to view. It was touched - a finger, a tongue, a penis, a toe?

If it was a man, not Natasha, would he be brought to ejaculation - made to cum without knowing who was doing the deed. Or, indeed, who was watching. What a thing to happen. Perhaps then to be taken away still unknowing who had done and watched the deed.

Perhaps they were to be mated - an enforced and bound copulation - for the entertainment of the watcher or watchers. Perhaps her blindfold might not be removed and she would not know who it was she was being mated with. Would not know whose penis was inside her; who it was who was made to inseminate her. And afterwards would there be more, would the watchers advance on her and perhaps even him?

It was more likely, though, to be her friend she was touching. Celia tried moving to feel but the other bound person was not where she thought - the fingers and touching had disorientated her. Celia was moving across the room not knowing where she was going - and still there was the touching. A body, Celia had bumped into a body; a male body, Celia had felt his erection poking her but he was gone before Celia could feel if he was bound. Was it her fellow captive or a watcher?

Hands upon her, hands guiding her but where? The centre of the room or where? How large was the room? Perhaps she was on a stage in a theatre - it did not sound like that - with a thousand people watching, anticipating the enforced copulation or... If only she could take her blindfold off but her hands were tied.

And then she felt hands, two tied hands touching her own. Almost instinctively she reached and grasped hoping it was her friend, Natasha. It was reassuring.

Still silence, still no real knowledge of who was in the room with her, really no knowledge at all. Something was about to happen. Celia was sure of it - but what? The waiting unbearable.

All at once a hand to her head and the blindfold removed. The light bright and eye watering. Celia screwed up her eyes and blinking, tried to see.

"Surprise!" It was a lot of voices, male voices. Celia was astounded at just how many were in the room. Every one of them, but one, fully erect. It must have taken a little arrangement - it explained the wait and the touching.

Everyone but one fully erect and perhaps there was no surprise at that after all;for there was the old man, Mr Levinson, at the centre with his drooping penis. Celia realised the 'escape' in the boat with the old fishermen, Bill, had all been a complete pretence; another fabrication, another game. And indeed there was Bill as firmly erect as in the little boat; all that care and effort by Natasha and herself with him had been pointless - from their perspective. Celia turned and it was indeed Natasha whose hands she was holding, not some captive tumescent young man. There was enough tumescence in the room - another erection was hardly needed!

Everyone from the past few days were there. Mr Carnforth, Mr Staples, Zakky and the other fisherman (Sam was it?), the four men from the night before, the two minders, even the supposed shocked man from the train journey. Celia recalled seeing him leaving the train with a considerable bulge in his trousers: his erection hardly hidden by the material - it was not hidden now. Even Frau Knopf was there, not looking very male apart from the rather large prosthetic penis she was wearing - her strap on again (the large one).

Mr Levinson all smiles and apparent kindness, "Who has not had the pleasure?"

The pretence seemed over.

Celia knew very well who had not had the pleasure and was under no illusion about where all those erections were going to go. She was sure everyone was going to have 'the pleasure' - it was merely the order it was done in.

The man on the train was quick to step forward.

"Very well, Jim, who are you going to choose?"

He did not hurry but walked up to the two girls and fingered and fondled.

"This one please, Stephen," he said with his finger tapping on Celia's clitoral knot.

The old man smiled, "Be my guest."

And everyone watched, even Natasha as Celia was fucked. Fucked from behind kneeling on the carpet with her hands tied behind her back. She was encouraged into position - really with so many strong men around her resistance was going to be pointless as well as useless. Strong, naked men with waving erections moving her. Celia's forehead on the carpet, her bottom in the air. And, just like in the fishermen's hut, the man's erection was inserted between the two ropes and into her. The man was gentle but firm with her. No roughness but a steady, purposeful fucking.

"Stephen. I have been so looking forward... just seeing them all dressed on the train it was... Aaaaah, the pleasure!"

And then it was Natasha's turn. Natasha's turn to be fucked. Not doggy style as with Celia, nor on her back as that was not possible with her hands bound behind her - but in the air. The four men from the night before taking it in turns to both hold her, support her in the air and fuck her. First displaying her to the assembly, her legs opened to show the binding and the carefully positioned knot - all of her charms revealed, showing the company what they would shortly be enjoying.

Then the first penis pushed in and exercised before Natasha was moved to the next. Round and round the group of men went Natasha, in and out went the penes, until one of the men became a bit too enthusiastic and the company cheered as he very evidently came. There was the evidence as he was withdrawn! Everyone shown what he had done. His semen leaking onto the hemp rope and the cleverly positioned knot.

The first ejaculations over. Who would be next?

Unsurprisingly the remaining three men from the night before carried on their game with Natasha until another came and then Celia too found herself lifted and exposed, the two spent men simply holding her and then the other two of the friends pushed at her. Celia lay almost limp as she watched the erections alternately entering her. The hands of the men supporting her kept pulling at her rope corset and moving the knot on her clitoris. It was inflamed and sensitive enough already but still it was rubbed.

Another pumping and only one of the four men was left 'standing.'

"Come on, Stephen, it's your party!"

The old man came forward. There was a bit of clapping. Gently Celia was lowered to the floor and with hands to her shoulders brought to her knees once more. In front of her the old man's penis was hanging.

"There's a good girl Emily-Sue, you know what to do. Do it well."

Celia found herself leaning forward, her lips almost touching the soft wrinkled folds of his prepuce. 'Do it well,' the words going round and round in her head.

She could not stop herself; her tongue came out and touched the end; obediently her tongue tickling and wriggling; she made an attempt to get inside the skin twixt glans and prepuce but it just moved away from her. Any other, unexpended, man in the room would have been rock hard at her actions but not the old man. There was not so much as a twitch. With her tongue she pushed and began to make the limp penis swing from side to side; gentle flicks of her tongue keeping it in motion - to and fro. A no doubt lovely feeling for him but no discernible reaction.

Celia felt she must try her very best. She knew it was the old man's influence - the control he had over her - but that did not stop her feelings. Rationally she knew she should bite and hurt but that was not her desire - her desire was to make the old man come. How she would love to feel his penis spasm and drink down his salty, viscous spurtings.

Celia dipped her head a bit and, as the old man's penis lay alongside her nose, she toyed with his wrinkled scrotum, fondling his balls in her mouth as she knew men liked.

Beside her Natasha was brought into position and together their mouths played wetly with the old man's flaccid organ. Nice to feel Natasha's lips, nice to feel her tongue.

"Perhaps..." It was the old man.

"Yes, you can do it" - they all were cheering on Mr Levinson. All watching the strangely flaccid sex. "Come on Stephen - Yes!"

"The brown girl - Tabitha," he said.

Natasha was removed by eager hands, lifted up and held open, her legs raised right up in the air.

The old man pulled his flaccid penis from Celia's mouth and moved to rub it against the taut, sweat slippery, brown skin of Natasha's inner thigh. Still kneeling, Celia watched the man rubbing his soft knob up and down the flawless brown skin. Once more leaving little snail trails from his slowly leaking organ. It was not only his organ that was leaking: Natasha was doing the same in a rather different way from her own sexual organ. It was not, of course, her semen - except in the sense she had been given it by several men!. The old man moved closer and closer to Natasha's sex until he was rubbing against her now hairless slit and, particularly, on her clitoral knot.

The men and Frau Knopf moved in closer to watch. Celia being close did not find her view obstructed but was just so conscious of a firm penis pointing either side of her head and projecting forward into her peripheral vision. Would they be for Natasha, her or both?

"I can, I can, I am - yes, I am!" The old man gasped and from his limp penis exuded a large quantity of swirly creamy, translucent fluid. For a man unable to achieve an erection he did seem to produce more than most other men. Celia stared at the old man's coming semen. So white against Natasha's dark skin. It kept pumping out as he continued to rub himself stickily against her. It exuded and ran down Natasha's so perfect brown skin to join the very full pool already formed between her puffed up and even darker labia major.

Natasha looked very fucked and Celia could not imagine she, herself, looked any different.

There was cheering and slapping the old man on the back, "Well done, well done!" Celia rather thought it was Natasha and she who should have been praised - they had done the difficult work!

The old man acknowledged their cheers and Frau Knopf's kiss on his cheek, before waving his hands casually at the girls,

"Fill them up!" He said.

It was the signal for the rest of the men to join in and join with the girls. They did so with gusto!

"Hope I'm not late... oh, good, I'm clearly not." Another arrival, another penis, another erection to fill the girls. The afternoon long.

The ropes removed and then the blindfolds again. Celia thought some more men arrived but she could not be sure. Almost she thought she recognised a voice, one of her uni. lecturers but it could not be - it really couldn't. But why the blindfolds? Who was she not being permitted to see?

So many penes, so many ejaculations. It was all very tiring.

"Hold still, Tabitha and Emily-Sue." The old man's voice. Surely he was not going to try and repeat his flaccid ejaculation?

A small prick in Celia's arm just as a large one entered her vagina. A man's voice - one she did not know. "I'm going to cum again. I really am! Fuck, Stephen, where do you find these girls? Real crackers this time. Look she's passing out with the pleasure!" There was laughter. Another man. "Can I, please. just one more go, with the negress. I don't mind if she's out cold - so long as she's warm, wet and so dark! I..."

And Celia felt herself going, going... gone.

The next Celia knew, she was standing, a little groggily, beside Natasha right back where they had started. Back in the passage at the university. It seemed so, so long ago when they had been there - just walking through the passage, or so they had thought - if they had been consciously thinking of what they had been doing at all. It had all been so ordinary, just walking but then...

Celia blinked a few times trying to clear her head. She tried raising her hand but it was not responding. In front of her the old man with his stick. He nodded to her, raised his hat and began walking away.

Everything was apparently back the way it had been - only it was now three days later - everything the same except the new bullet shape of Natasha's chest and the remarkably large quantity of semen she knew to be in both Natasha and her panties. She could feel just how much she had been used. Everything the way it had been except... Celia frowned, why did she have this new desire to take Natasha by the hand and lead her to the bathroom for them to wash and bathe together? Not separately but together. That was not at all how it had been.