Shipwrecked - A Need to Survive

Lucy held on tightly to the side of the bed in her cabin as the ship swayed. By the flickering light of a candle she saw a bucket slide across the floor towards her, its vile contents slopping over the side. She felt ill but could not vomit any more, the contents of her stomach already filled the pail.

The wind was screeching as the vessel rose, then swooped downwards before stopping and painfully rising again. Lucy revised her position; she no longer worried that she was going to die, she was now worried that she would not die.

She peered out of the window but there was nothing to see, the night was pitch black without a star or the slightest glimmer of light to indicate anything stable that she could fix her attention on. She could hear men's voices raised but could not distinguish any words. It was just a babble of bellowing. Her husband was out there somewhere, all available men - even passengers - were battling the storm either hauling on ropes or manning the pumps.

Apart from the wind and the distant shouts, the only sounds were the ship's timbers creaking and crashing as the vessel hit yet more troughs and breakers - she nearly landed on the floor for the thousandth time.

She turned her face to the mattress again, shutting out the world. Hopefully sleep would take her from this hell until daybreak. She retched once more and found that she had been mistaken about her ability to puke; a mouthful of bile worked its way up her throat and landed onto her nightdress. As she sat up to try to spit into the bucket a sudden wave threw her in the wrong direction and she half-fell onto the deck, with the foul mess soaking into her gown.

Lucy shuddered. The smells were horrific and the worst were from a series of unsightly stains on her clothing directly under her nose. She untied the strings around her neck and removed the soiled garment.

She could see her pale body in the dim light of a single flickering candle. She had been generously endowed with breasts, but in these latitudes they were uncomfortable with perspiration collecting underneath. They still stood out well from her ribs, she was still a young woman and there was no sign of sag - they were not like those of an older or weightier woman. She had developed a slight prickly rash underneath them where there was an area of skin to skin contact and she rubbed the irritated area to sooth it.

The tropical heat was oppressive and did little to alleviate her nausea. She considered leaving the confines of the tiny room but that would mean dressing in clean clothes and that seemed out of the question. She wished that her husband Bertie could return to comfort her.

Lucy lay down again, feeling the warm foetid air on her skin. All her worldly belongings were on this ship, with her new husband. They had sold nearly all of their old possessions to their neighbours to fund this trip and were planning a new life in a distant colony. All their friends had contributed, purchasing items that they were unlikely to need for inflated prices.

Government notices in the newspapers and posted on notice-boards had announced that settlers could build farms on the huge expanses of virgin land waiting to be cleared. The grinding poverty of their homeland meant that a bold move offered opportunities, but first this voyage on a slow leaky bucket in a howling gale had to be survived. And right now she had lost interest.

~**~

There was a violent impact, a hundred times worse than any she had felt before. Lucy was thrown from her bunk and landed on the wet floor, in the mess. All around her there were sounds of crashing items and splintering timber. She sat naked and confused, as vile liquid flowed about her and she realised that the ship was stationary at a crazy angle. The gradient of the floor gradually increased and sea water started to pour in through the broken window. The candle was extinguished but its illumination was replaced by a luminescence from the water; the dim light showed just enough to move around the room.

She crawled to the door but could not reach the latch. The ship lurched and then settled again, to a strangely rigid position. She could hear screams and clamouring from the men but could hardly make a sound herself - and when she tried to shout there was a ripping pain from her ribs.

She stood, gasping with the agony and holding onto a strut that was now above her instead of being part of the wall.

Lucy realised that with the cessation of movement she actually felt much better. Except that she was in the middle of the ocean and the ship was on its side wrecked. She was going to die and in all likelihood her family would know nothing of it.

The level of water was starting to rise as it gushed through the hole and she knew that she could not climb out against the torrent. As soon as she lifted a foot through the space she was pushed backwards. Adrenaline was surging through her body but she was helpless.

She stayed alone in the cabin until the water was waist-deep and she was crouched on her submerging bed, then the ship was raised in the air and fell again, crashing and spinning around.

Lucy was hurled across the room, into the water. She just managed to save herself by grabbing hold of a bracket that was fixed to the wall, as the heavy furniture floated around her. The cabin door had been thrown open and she levered herself up. She heaved herself into the passageway, strangely disorientated with the vessel almost on its side. She walked along the wall of the passageway and emerged into the outside.

The scene was carnage. The front half of the ship seemed to be completely missing. Broken and twisted rigging, spars, masts, she knew not what lay all around. Various objects were tumbled over, pieces of cargo and unidentifiable splintered wood made traversing the deck impossible, especially at its near vertical slope.

She looked down into the white frothing water and saw no escape. There were no boats to be seen, but they would have been impossible to launch anyway without the crew and there was no sign of anyone else at all. A series of mountainous waves swept over the deck.

A massive lump of wood crashed against the structure close to where she huddled and made her jump; a few inches closer and she would have been crushed. The sound of splintering timbers indicated that the ship was breaking up further and the situation was now truly perilous.

~**~

Lucy opened her eyes against the stinging water. Somehow she was now in the sea, being drowned by massive waves. She was a reasonable swimmer but this was a different matter to any water that she had ever swam in. She flicked her wet hair from her eyes and saw a length of timber looming overhead.

She ducked as it crashed down and was struck by something flexible. Instinctively she caught hold and found that it was a rope, attached to a spar. She pulled herself to the thick wooden pole and looped the rope around herself, entwining her arms. She found that her ribs were bearable if she relaxed and did not move more than necessary. She held on for an interminable time, as her instinct for survival kicked in.

The sky began to lighten but the gale continued. Lucy saw the threatening clouds overhead as the relentless wind blew her through the white-topped waves. In the distance she saw a shadow against the sky but she started to slip away. She fought to stay awake but she was exhausted and slipped out of consciousness.

~**~

Lucy opened her eyes, which were full of wet sand. The storm had eased and now the sun was beating down. She looked at herself and saw through her bleary vision that she was lying on a beach.

She rubbed the sand out of her eyes as best she could and sat up. She was naked; not a thread of clothing to her name as she sat alone on the white sand beach. She was struck by the purity of the colour; she had seen normal, golden beaches before but never anything like this. The sun was reflecting into her eyes, dazzling her. But why was she nude, she wondered. Then she remembered removing her nightgown and realised that throughout the escape she had been naked and not even aware of it.

Her hair was matted with water, sand and seaweed so she stood and staggered back to the water's edge, where she rinsed her hair and face. She looked about but could see no more people to observe her natural state. There were some boxes washed up and several pieces of torn rigging from the ship but there was no sign of Bertie or any of the rest of the passengers or crew - apparently she was alone in the world.

She walked along the beach looking for signs of the others but there were none. If she had seen them she would have been embarrassed by her nakedness.

Lucy wished now that she had a less voluptuous figure. She had been proud of her shape during her schooldays, many of her jealous school-friends had taunted her in the showers after hockey games on the lawns of her college but she knew that all men secretly desired a woman with large breasts and wide hips; the matter had been extensively discussed in the dormitory. However right now they were encumbrances and would be a source of embarrassment when she was rescued.

She studied the debris scattered about. It was mostly worthless rubbish as far as she could tell but she found a complete sail that might form a tent, as well as a barrel half full of fresh water and some cases of food. She took a sip of the water and ate a biscuit, but there was little time to waste. It was necessary to explore the land, perhaps gain a better vantage point to look for other survivors, so she left the beach and started inland.

It was an area of entangled roots and vegetation that made travel difficult, especially with her bare feet. However she was soon on a grassy slope where walking was easier. Amongst the trees she found a clear route, the earth drying rapidly in the heat. Eventually she could look behind and study the sea as far as the horizon. Her ribs were not now in so much pain - luckily they were only bruised and not broken, which would have been disastrous.

In the distance could be seen the remainder of the wreck, still being pounded by the breakers. It was nearly completely broken up on a line of waves, where a reef lay a couple of miles from land.

She continued climbing the hillside and just as Lucy's feet were starting to bleed from the hundreds of scratches she had suffered, she came to the top to see the other side of what turned out to be a fairly small island.

The land was crescent-shaped, with what looked like a human settlement at the edge of a sheltered bay. There were buildings visible and she could see people fixing damage to the roofs from the storm. Lucy gave thanks for her salvation.

She considered being wary; she had read books with stories of white people being cooked in large iron pots and being eaten by grass-skirted natives in this part of the world. However it was difficult to see any alternative to throwing herself on the mercy of these people to have any hope of survival.

Also there was an impossible dilemma. She did not want to be seen without clothes, yet had no choice. Perhaps she could return and drape the sail around herself. That was ridiculous, it weighed more than she did.

She threw caution to the winds and hurried down the hill to the village, then she saw something that made her stop suddenly.

Before her, blocking the way was a group of native tribesmen carrying long thin poles and spears.

The natives stood motionless for a minute, studying her in return. Then one stepped forwards and held his hand out.

A child at the back of the group turned and ran away, as the men moved slowly forwards with curiosity on their faces.

The men wore very little, Lucy noticed. In fact nothing at all except for a rough belt of plant material with some sort of vegetable that looked much like a parsnip in front. The parsnip was tied pointing upwards and gave the appearance of an erect penis. She blushed furiously at the sight.

She blushed even harder when she noticed that the 'parsnip' was hollow and only fastened at the pointed end. The thick end was slipped over the men's penises which were thus held vertically, showing their testicles below.

The man with the largest seemed to be in charge. At least they weren't wearing grass skirts, she thought.

The men gathered around and led her through the trees towards the village. Soon they arrived, to find the women-folk awaiting their arrival, apparently forewarned. The women were naked and several carried babies on their hips. All of the adults had intricate tattoos on their faces and bodies.

She felt extremely self-conscious standing before the strangers in her 'birthday suit', as her mother would have phrased it but then she was led into one of the huts, constructed from twigs and wooden poles with a woven grass roof. It was rather airy inside, out of the heat from the sun.

One of the women with miming actions suggested that they have food.

Lucy thought that the faces of the native women looked plain. Their faces were very round with snub noses and wider lips than would be considered beautiful in Europe. They were short and muscular in build, but obviously suited to their way of life.

There were wisps of smoke arising from a mound of rocks lying on the ground, as if a tiny active volcano was about to erupt. However a woman poked the rocks away with a stick, to reveal a layer of leaves, then some food cooking slowly beneath. The hot food was extracted and shared into wooden bowls, with a portion handed to Lucy. Everyone squatted on the ground to eat with their fingers.

Lucy found that it was some fish with rice and pieces of vegetables; she was hungry and it was tasty. Then she realised that her squatting position revealed her private parts to all the men present. She quickly adjusted her legs to hide herself, but the men seemed unconcerned. Unlike Bertie whose eyes would have been on stalks in the presence of all the females with their uncovered breasts and glimpses of vagina. If only he were present she would have been so much happier.

When the food was finished, a man approached her and inspected her teeth, as if she were a horse at an auction. Then he felt her breasts and prodded her belly as if looking for signs of pregnancy, current or past. She felt her nipples firm at his touch. The man stared at her groin. Lucy instinctively jumped back and clutched her hands before her but the women started laughing. He stroked her shoulder and arm, studying her skin closely then held her blonde hair between his fingers.

Lucy found this disconcerting and tried to pull away but the giggling ladies held her still. One did a mime of holding a baby, with a questioning look. Lucy shook her head; no, she had no babies.

~**~

Darkness came and the villagers had a party. All the children were banished to their huts; this was for the adults. Lucy was unsure of the occasion but there was a dreadful fermented liquor that the men drank, getting drunk and dancing around with much yelling and whooping. The women also drank from the bowls but when she tasted the fluid it made her cough. They kept pressing her to drink and after a while it was more palatable.

Eventually there was calm and the man who had examined her earlier, the one with the largest sheath stood stationary on two rocks, legs apart. He chanted and waved his arms around whilst everyone watched, then one of the women led Lucy to stand before him.

She was between two small trees and shown to hold onto them. She was leaning forwards so that she was holding the saplings for support. There was a log on the ground so that she had one foot either side. Some burning herbs were placed on the log so that she was bathed in a scented smoke.

A blindfold was placed over her eyes and one of her arms were brought forwards. Something was placed in her hand. She realised with a shock that it was the man's scrotum. She snatched her hand away but it was firmly replaced and she was made to cup it, supporting its weight whilst the singing continued.

She was now trapped, hanging onto the tree with one hand unable to let go for fear of falling on her face into the fire or into the man in front of her. She was unused to holding a man in this fashion; she felt as if she should be gentle but gripped around the organs with her fingers.

She felt hands stroke her shoulders with a feather-light touch. The touch moved down her arms to the inside of her elbows. They meandered over her body, to behind her ears, her armpits, down her spine and back up again and then around her breasts to her belly.

She felt her back being scratched, fingernails digging in deliciously with each rib. With the scented smoke, the blindfold and the endless chanting, she found that all her attention was concentrated on the vagaries of the massage. She felt her nipples prickle at the anticipation of the next rib being scraped in turn.

Then the fingers were stroking her buttocks, moving to the crease at the top of her thighs. The log was preventing her from bringing her feet together but she did not feel invaded. She was enveloped by an effect of peace and relaxation that she had never experienced before. Indeed, she found herself willing the unseen hands to stray further, to touch places that only Bertie had ever been before.

But these hands were far more experienced and sensitive than Bertie's clumsy fumblings. These hands knew how to tease, how to caress, how to stimulate. Soon she was opening her thighs further, making her secret little nooks and crannies more available. She breathed in to puff out her chest, so as to emphasise her bare breasts.

But the hands ignored those breasts that she wanted fondling. They returned to her ass and to the base of her spine. Then very slowly the fingers touched her sensitive area between her buttocks, probing deeply, exquisitely. She initially tightened her ass but then relaxed her muscles so that the fingers could continue unhindered.

Lucy tilted her hips to expose her most sensitive spot, that which had never been touched by anyone; not even Bertie. To her gratitude she found the finger resting directly on her rear opening, then gently rocking, encouraging her to force the entrance open.

Just as she complied,the touch moved on, further underneath to her front opening. She felt her labia flare apart and her hips tilt even further.

All the while the chanting continued and the smoke filled her nostrils.

The fingers were slippery with a warm lubricant and moved easily between her 'foof', the childish nickname for her pussy that instinctively came to her mind. They penetrated her briefly, then moved gently to a spot of tissue that Bertie had never found. The piece of flesh was gently moved from side to side, then repeatedly with increasing speed.

She had never felt like this before and found herself out of breath with her knees buckling. Just as she felt herself on the point of collapse, something slid swiftly inside her, filling her completely. She was stretched to a point just short of pain, but to an extent where she felt curiously satisfied.

The only previous experience she had had was with Bertie. She did not know if he had a large or small manhood; it seemed big to her but caused no discomfort when she was satisfying his marital needs. She had had this explained to her by her mother on the evening before her marriage, how to conceive children and make a man content. However she had never been made to feel like this.

For certain she had enjoyed the experiences (not counting the very first time which had been painful and humiliating) and when she had touched him it had caused a flutter of excitement. But there had been nothing like this all-encompassing sensation. The object inside her was the main subject of her attention, but the touching of her body was distractingly pleasant.