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The Flotsam Dame
(a Charlotte Moans prequel)
by Eve Adorer
Synopsis: - Another case for Charlotte Moans, and another prequel to ‘Dead Dames Don’t Lick’. (An earlier prequel ‘The Little Sister’ can be found here within ‘Disconnections’ as “Part 16” - ‘Dead Dames Don’t Lick’ itself, is published on this site in its own separate right).
This new Charlotte Moans story starts with PI Charlotte (“Charley”) Moans helping New Edingow’s finest with their enquiries.....
The Flotsam Dame
(a Charlotte Moans prequel)
by Eve Adorer
Lieutenant Adrienne Kowalski was cute and acute. But I’d been old school before the cliché became a cliché. Before I’d kicked cop and gone PI, I’d been ranks got ranked and risen hard way.
Kowalski was new school. She’d majored Ivy League and thought she knew it all double-twice over. She’d climbed ladder without touching rung, and landed high with ears you could still have sowed rice behind.
I was summer, she was spring. I’d guess she’d maybe seen twenty-two shortest summer shadows. In one way, you’d never know though. She was not the type to take a tan. Complexion wise she was ghost that could never toast. She was also sassy and giving me lip instead of using her mouth for the kissing god had made it for.
She now paraded room following behind two playful pups that were propping out her shirt like her nips and the rest of her figure-eight body must always be in different counties, and with her rear teaching a duck’s tail how to wag.
Kowalski was trying to be hard, but when you’ve got a spectral face with schoolgirl’s freckles, a sweet little snout, dark-brown eyes lit like demons diamonds, and succulently swollen lips, you got a problem looking as tough as your talk.
If you liked redheads, Adrienne Kowalski was a cute chick. If you didn’t like redheads, Adrienne Kowalski was still a cute chick. Either way she’d everything going for her, even if, in the skirts she wore, it was very difficult not to think of her legs apart.
This was the second day of my hotelling at the 14th precinct’s HQ, at Kowalski’s kinda kind invite. The cell stay was supposed to soften me up pre, and so she had purposely only just gotten round to giving me the third degree.
As she paced room, I relaxed cremating a cigarette, trying to lasso her wickedly wild ass with my smoke-rings.
Kowalski then sat her sweet butt corner desk and gave me stocking tops and a glimpse her thong singing midnight Paris. She had calves that could have danced the Bolshoi out of town and thighs to crush your skull if’n you didn’t lick her out the way that was wise: soas you’d better guess the way she wouldn’t despise.
As technique went, it was a mind-blower: torture, but from the fires of desire and not such as to make the likes of me squeak ‘n’ squawk.
“Oh come on Sam! You can do better than that”, Kowalski sopranoed for the umpteenth.
“To you, Kowalski, it’s ‘Ms Moans’ or ‘Charlotte’ if you must. You don’t got no licence to ‘Charley’ me in parley”, I reheated, but without the annoyance she was annoyed that her deliberate repeated use of the familiar angle on my nominal handle was not causing me.
“I’ve told you times now, I was shoreline when a water-lap moved a rock distance that turned out not a rock close. I was out on a fitness run and was heading that way anyway, so I gave it my full 20:20 when I got there.”
“She was butt naked. Your initial autop says she’d been slapped around, but I don’t know nothing about that. I’d never met the chick before in my life, and, even if I had, lessen she looked like she’d been fish-food for five days when she was alive, she’d be no match-up with what was in the bay.”
I had already learned that Kowalski had no stomach for the post mortem side of policing, and so I went easy on describing what I had found. I had my own suspicions about what had gone on. I was also pretty sure the Jane Doe was the honey her poor ma had hired me to find.
The state she was in, I had no means to tell who she wasn’t though, so it suited me fine to let the cops’ ident procedures finish my work for me. I was sure it was going to mean there would be terrible news for Pussy Purr’s ma. But I’d offer a deal. Her ma could have the fee for my failure back, or let me keep it for nailing the bitches I was sure had done her daughter down. I was also hatching a plan for the latter event, and Kowalski was co-conspirator if she wanted in; not that she knew that yet.
“You’ve been out yachting with some of New Edingow’s pin-ups Charley: the ones one-time front-on and profile in every station house in town. You can’t deny knowing their names and faces. You probably even recall the numbers on the boards they were peeking over when the flashbulbs went pop!” Kowalski tried to hiss, and missed, because she shook one side her radioactive redhead’s curls from rucked-up peek-a-boo eyeshade to behind shoulder behave.
“So, I happen to be acquainted with Lola and her girl, Bonito Clyde. Last I heard that ain’t no crime. Those posters are nexting mildew bottom drawer forgot now. Lola and Bonito done their time, but only for misdemeanours. You’d be best advised not to criminalise, Kowalski: Lola’s gotten lawyers ass-pocket even the Federal Reserve Board can’t afford.....”
.....But I decided to level. I’d hatched plan, and it wanted cop co-op.
“.....I was on a case. Normally a PI keeps it privy, but I sing that it was a missing-person wrap, and the ‘person’ was a chick about the age of the one in the bay; as far as a guess goes without the ident dentals.”
“She’d answered ad. She wanted Hollywood like they all do? Lola runs a yacht for the stars to relax aboard and floats it on a sea of champagne. If the honey in the wash-up turns out to be who I think it should be, I’ve found the poor kid who answered an ad for a cabin-boy on Lola’s ocean-going.”
“So, you admit to having your nose in police business then Charley! Lola and Bonito are fish for fry by the New Edingow Police Department. You’re stepping out of line with the NEPD! That’s fine by me, but just you wait till Captain Lipps gets to hear of this!”
“We think the Jane Doe was one of ours: Pussy Purr, a plain-clothes plant? A policegirl and Sunday-School teach from Hicksville Sticksville. She volunteered mission for a commission she’ll not now get, and a posthumous medal she’ll just possibly.”
“However it came about, if it was no accident, maybe we can’t screw you for accessory to the fact of the way and the where she ended up. At the very least you’ll cool your heels for a couple of days for wasting police time, or anything else I can think up”, Kowalski tried to threaten.
“How about booking me for kissing a cop on duty Kowalski? Cos if I do, I got extenuating circumstances to plead, lessen you got the paperwork to prove you ever won Miss Ugly Pug, like you never could.”
Kowalski blushed, stood her full five-seven, and showed how practical as well as how pretty her little hands were, by trying to get her skirt’s hem to hide the lucky stocking tops caressing her thunderous thighs.
While I had her on recoil, I leaped in with a counter-charge.
“You’ve had me two days, and I’ve been two days thinking.”
“I didn’t know my would-be trace was also your plant, but Captain Kismet Lipps and I go back to cop-college like she’s probably told you when you weren’t listening. So the surprise to me is, that she would let you waste police time, and state taxes, keeping me here under suspicion of what can only be a figment of whatever you keep between those pretty little shell-likes that side your sweet face Kowalski. Sure, you got me smitten like no girl could help, but you ain’t never gonna crack nut that don’t exist.”
“My bet is that Lipps don’t even know I’m here, and if she ever gets know, you’re sexy little ass will get the wupping it deserves, if, unfortunately, only metaphor-wise.”
“I don’t know what hunch you’ve been playing Police Medal or more over-promotion for Kowalski, and I don’t wanna know. But, in exchange for the pleasure of your company, and a chance to ease my sore eyes by looking you over close-to for this last two days, I’m willing to do a deal. You see, you’re just the girl we both need right now.”
“The deal is that you and I tell Captain Lipps, when she’s back off furlough, that you came up with the brilliant plan to suss-out Lola and Clyde, that I’ve just come up with.”
“Now, either you say ‘yes’ sight unseen, or I remind Kismet she owes me one, and you’re gone with career careering snowball in Sahara sun”, I quietly steamed.
“Would you call me ‘Adrienne’ and let me call you ‘Charley’?” Kowalski wheedled with a shy blush.
“Sure kid: sure Adrienne”, I melted, with a resigned sigh: a sigh acknowledging that girls like Adrienne only ever win.
“’Cept that when we’re onboard Lola’s float, you’re still Adrienne Kowalski, since no one has ever heard of you, and I’m the full Ms Moans as respect for my disguise as a high-rolling low ranking banker.”
“And for that, since my bluff could be called this second visit, I need Lipps to sign me out a dollar-roll that looks like a cashed banker’s bonus, and a honey-chick to apply for the post of cabin-boy aboard Lola’s yacht. We’re gonna have to trim those lovely red curls soas to meet the ads spec, and, if you don’t already, you’re gonna have to shave it: and I mean shave as in coot.”
I shot a glance at Adrienne, and her face’s burning flush and lowered eyes waxed me wise there was no need to strop a cutthroat ready on the latter account.
“When we’re out ocean, Lola takes it beyond the miles where land-laws and land lubbers prevent her gambling and indulging her other games. She loves games, that’s why, though you could never qualify this side of the billionth universe, you’d be a ‘cabin-boy’. Your role will probably be to look like love on lovely legs and serve drinks: do you think you could manage that?”
“Do you think I could ever look that attractive Charley?” Adrienne fished.
“Only all the time”, I honested.
“But don’t forget, we’re after all we can get on the poor chick in the bay, and how she got there that way, when I know she was aboard the ‘Shapely-Shark’ along the way.”
“It’s a risk Adrienne. Pussy Purr may have met an unpleasant end. My guess is that Lola sussed her as cop, and gave her ‘an accident’. The autop will never top and tail that out. Lola will have made sure, if there was anything likely to show, that it wouldn’t.”
“She’ll be on her guard all the more now. But a repeat show so quick after, could fool her. She could well conclude that even the cops wouldn’t be so dumb as to send another so soon after Pussy. That is, assuming it really wasn’t an accident with Pussy of course.”
“When aboard, we both listen out and make mental notes but don’t compare till we’re back ashore. It needs more than one, because one is hearsay: two is evidence. So we’ll work team. But if anything happens, whatever happens to you or me when we’re on board, neither of us can intervene or the game is up: do you savvy?”
“I think so Charley”, Adrienne answered, while looking for answering love with her lovely eyes.
“You’re gonna have to be tough out there kid. Lola’s not beyond slapping her maids about. She’s a bitch’s bitch when it comes to hard hearts and cruelty”, I warned.
Adrienne just smiled quietly: “As a national guard volunteer, I took anti-interrogation techniques? In real-experience-training, I was water-boarded two-hundred and forty-four times over forty-eight hours, and they never got the secret password or the safety-release-me word out of me....”, Adrienne assured, and her stock went up in my eyes. I strongly suspected Lola of causing Pussy’s end, and, if that was so, Kowalski was the girl with which I’d nail Lola for sure.
.............................
As I had assumed, apart from her concern for Adrienne’s welfare, Captain Kismet Lipps was all for my plan. She knew me well enough to trust me.
She’d stayed force whilst me and my eventual partner in detection and bed, Samantha Splayed, had gone PI, but Kismet and me had gotten off the same train first cop-school day, and learned together. She’d been a keen shoot back home. So she’d taught me gun, as well as showing me for my first time that 69 was a whole hell of a lot more than just a number.
The sad side, Kismet would do. A DNA match with Pussy Purr’s ma confirmed the chick in the harbour was the worst news poss. Because the cause of death could not be determined, and foul play therefore not ruled out, it had become a cop case now, and Kismet wanted use the intro to Lola I’d already gotten.
I told Kismet to offer Ma Purr back my fee and that I’d go pro bono. But Kismet reminded me I was business, and had found my missing person as per contract. It was no fault mine that the poor girl had become a buoy.
Arrangements soon had me with a back-history-back-up economics degree from some long-famed business-college, and a career as a high-flying investment banker at the New Edingow headquarters of Ursa-Bows. On file I had a management role and a bank bonus roll to match. At least as far as any records that might be poked into went, I did. And all of this supported the fly-line I’d already cast on Lola’s pond.
I’d already renewed contact with Lola. Lipps had hinted me that Lola was planning a bank-rob and saw me as a maybe insider. So I’d get to win-up on the roulette wheel to butter me for the lowdown on the entrée to Ursa-Bows’ online weaknesses: which my title role at the bank suggested I’d be know. Since the Inland Revenue Service would be funding my roulette chips, I could see that Lipps was glad of my predicted winning ways.
Then followed intensive rehearsal with Kowalski. We couldn’t afford a lip slip. By the time the play was due to be staged, we needed know our false selves better than our realities.
In my contact with Lola, I said I had a great kid in line for the ad she’d posted for a cabin-boy, and sent her a scan of Adrienne Kowalski’s mug-shot. In return, I got a parcel with a pretend cabin-boy’s outfit, and several clothes changes along similar lines. These I passed to Adrienne and agreed she’d meet me dockside at the date and time Lola had prompted.
..........................
And when that date and time and the dockyard coincided....
“Hi”, came a nervous sweet voice from my stern. It was Adrienne in her new and natural mode. The hard cop act had gone. She was a dame again, and, like all dames, she wanted appreciate.
And I turned, and I looked her over with my eyes out on stalks and with my tongue lolling the floor ready to lick. She was nuclear dynamite. She was dressed Popeye to pop eyes. She sure as hell was no Olive Oyl: you just couldn’t have straightened curves like that.
I could see enough to know that, before she’d topped herself out with a scarlet Yankee-sailor-boy’s soft round hat, she’d had her redhead’s hair cropped schoolboy, and that it was slicked down with mousse in a left-side parting.
Then she wore a white tee-shirt hooped in sky-blue on white by alternating stripe, short in sleeve to show her lovely arms, and ripped off just below her twin frontal peaks, with no bra and leaving her belly-button bare.
Without a bra to embolden their thrust, Adrienne’s breasts, the far side of thirty-eight DD-cup and bare under there, were in the loving hands of gravity, and their perfect, entirely natural soft-firmness, thus nestled closer to her chest. Their front undersides therefore showed like two all too seductive sickle-moons below the ripped-hem of her sawn-off tee-vest, and the ripped vest was only held in place over her, by the grip her nipples evidently pointedly applied, twice, to its insides.
Next, sans panties, she filled a pair of sky-blue shorts, so short and tight they got very cheeky twice behind. And to bottom-out her patriotic red white and blue rigout, she was skied-up in white leather booties with no heels, standing on squared-off steel toecaps, with legs you could die for, like she was a ballet-dancer doing a tiptoe 360 24/7 twirl.
“How do I look Charley?” she wheedled with honey in her husk, as she gave me the full schoolgirl innocent complete with freckles, with the pupils of her dark browns ready to swallow me all the way to a romp in the hay.
“If’n you don’t turn those eyes off, Lieutenant Kowalski, I’m gonna have to kiss you!” I warned.
“What if I’ve forgotten where the switch is hid Charley?” she giggled as she blushed shy eyed.
Then Adrienne saw her over my shoulder, and I was realise I should have warned her up some more: more than just about Lola’s love of erotic games playing. Lola was walking toward us. I knew it was Lola because I’d seen her before of course. But Kowalski hadn’t and that showed in her love-lights.
I shoulda warned Kowalski. I now realised too late that I shoulda forewarned Adrienne. After all, it’s not every day you meet a woman with the height, the shape, and the looks of the famous catwalk model she was moons since ago, but who is also an albino negress with hideously cruel pink eyes.
“Moans, you old devil you! You made it! Good to see ya again!”, Lola greeted me, taking both my hands in hers before kissing me on alternate cheeks whilst looking over my shoulder, totally unable to take her eyes of Adrienne.
“And I see you’ve gotten me the cabin-boy you promised. Say, he’s quite a handsome fella! Give me the old introducimento will ya Charley...”
“This is...a... Hadrian”, I white-lied to play my part in what I had learned to be Lola’s idea of sexy fun.
“Hi Hadrian!” Lola smiled, with lips pursed like a duelling scar.
“I run a tight ship Hadrian. I believe in discipline, discipline, and discipline. Those are the three Ds Hadrian and don’t you forget it: not that I’ll let ya...” Lola mused as she looked Kowalski over.
“Ma’am ‘discipline’ ma’am!!” Kowalski repeated, monotone smartly, eyes front: eyes levelled unseeing mid-distance, as she clicked her heels together so she stood at a very feminine version of upright attention on her goddess’ legs, on the tips of her toes, to show she had understood.
“Say, he’s got a high voice for a young-man”, Lola observed “.....And a lot of chest....”
“Misspent youth: couldn’t lay off the gym weights Lola. That’s all pectorals that is”, I quipped, without my heart really being in it.
My eyes were on Kowalski too. And, as I watched the fear in her sweet peepers when Lola ran an enquiring curled forefinger over her cheek and chin, my heart was in Adrienne’s’ lovely hands and in my throat at the same time.
“Say...this boy isn’t even old enough to shave!” Lola remarked, with a cruel tone, as she ran her finger down the peach-softness of Kowalski’s blushing visage to her chin once again.
“Just how old is he I wonder....” she then mused. And at that, she undid the clasp fronting Kowalski’s shorts, and slid down the zip to open out their flies. “Good G he hasn’t even gotten pubes!” Lola hissed, as she breathed her words like the vengeance of hell in poor Kowalski’s ear to terrify her.
“So?” I interrupted, trying to keep my voice calm, and to try and distract Lola from Adrienne’s excess of charms, “So he’s not yet a full-grown man? So he’s a kid that’s run away from home to go to sea. That’s romantic ain’t it? So, I reckon he ought to get what he’s looking for: a chance to be a sailor boy. So, will he do for you Lola, or will he do?”
“He’ll do fine. Least, once he gets to know his duties, he’ll do fine”, Lola answered, as Kowalski risked her shorts falling down by still standing to attention.
“Do yourself up boy!!” Lola commanded, “I won’t have my cabin-boys looking slovenly on parademento!” she hissed.
“Ma’am yes ma’am!” Kowalski responded, taking her part to the nth degree necessary for our mission.
“He’ll do fine Charley: just fine.”
“Good find Charley! Good find! Now let’s you, me, and the boy, board the ‘Shapely-Shark’ eh.”
“As you can see, the gang-plank I managed already. But I’m plum outta red carpet Charley, so you’ll just have to imagine that that’s part of the great welcome me and my girl, Bonito, extend to you and some famous faces you’ll recognise that are already on board.”
“Let’s get below deck Charley, and break open some champagne!” Lola mused, before shouting at Kowalski:-
“You boy! You walk ahead of us, cos me and by great friend Charley Moans here, we want to follow you and watch your wicked ass!”
.......................
Once aboard, I lost sight of Kowalski. Last I saw her was lip-read of Lola’s orders to her yacht’s captain, that they show ‘Hadrian’ his quarters and hammock, and let him stow his uniforms. Then he needed shown the layout of the boat, so he could find his way around. And then he must report to the mess-deck at 8.00 to serve cocktails.
The captain and crew of the Shapely-Shark, were, every girl Jill of them, beautiful negresses. The captain was a chick that musta faced outta magazine covers, if’n she hadn’t gotten salt water in her veins. She was maybe thirty, a tall Nubian with eyes and a mouth that made you think ‘bed’ every time you saw her. She musta said six feet bye-bye even before she’d put on her three-inch heels.
Like with Kowalski, the captain and crew had their curls cropped boyishly. Captain Lusciouoso Ngano was adorned in, or rather adorned out, a uniform of jacket over shirt and tie with a skirt just above the knees, in contrasting shades of powder-blue with peaked hat to match, all with gold braid Fort Knox musta been looking for to find where it had gotten to. The crew wore the same uniform as Kowalski, save that their hoop-striped tee-shirts were long enough to tuck into the waistbands of their sexy shorts or miniskirts.
“If I may, please ma’am” Captain Ngano enquired as Lola began to come back my way.
“Of course you may Captain”, Lola responded relaxedly.
“She’s all ready to sail ma’am. The forecast is for smooth seas for the next 24, then a gale tomorrow late, maybe. Permission to take the ‘Shapely-Shark’ to sea, and cruise her for you till you order the return to dock ma’am?”
“Permission granted Captain. Keep me update on that storm though”
“Thank you ma’am, and will do ma’am”, Captain Ngano concluded, before saluting smartly, and turning to make for the yacht’s bridge.
“Oh, and Captain!”
Captain Ngano turned and returned her attention to Lola.
“Yes ma’am?”
“Captain; I’ve a suspicion there may be a couple of stowaways on board: not among my guests, all of them I recognise, but please have a talk with the new cabin-boy, and order him to keep an eye open for stowaways for us all will you?”
“Yes ma’am: certainly ma’am?”
“He’s run away to sea himself you see, so he may have an idea how stowaways are likely to behave in order to deceive us and hide themselves and such.”
“Consider it already done Ma’am. Thank you ma’am.”
.......................
Then, a while later.....
“Where did you find him?” Lola quizzed me.
“Hadrian? Oh he’s a boring accountant in Accounts and a whore in bed. Or, rather, unfortunately for me, a whore in Accounts and a boring accountant in bed!” I quipped.
“He’s besotted with yours truly. I got him hanging by a thread though. I told him cooperate or get outta my life. You’ll have no trouble there. Long as he can be on the same boat as me everywhere lifesville, he can fool himself it’s love: the stupid bitch!” I answered, playing the game Lola clearly loved, while also aware of the doubts she was expressing in her tone.
“Just as long as he don’t arouse my suspiciomentos Charley; that’s all”
“Why? You had trouble before?” I casualled, thinking I’d got the intro to finding what had happened with poor Pussy Purr, and whether it had been cos she’d been a police plant who’d got her roots exposed.
“Trouble tends to find you in my line of business Charley: yesirimento it does....”
That was all I got. Lola re-introduced me to her wife, a truly gorgeous Chinese-American with hair that shimmered like a moonlit midnight waterfall. To look into Bonito Clyde’s almond shaped and likewise coloured eyes, was to see the kaleidoscopes used by a stage hypnotist, but that the trick with her eyes was to steal your heart and not your stash of cash. Bonito was as pure in beauty as she was in evil, and girls just don’t come more seductive than that.
Like I say, apart from that re-intro, Lola and Bonito were outta my reach and earshot most all the time.
Lola swung a cute little sixteen-year-old sailorgirl my way, hinting that an afternoon-long workout without my needing to get outta my bunk, was mine for the asking of the pretty, shy, very sweet little negress.
But in fact, I just got the sweetie to show me my cabin for this trip around the lighthouse, and planned take a shower, before intending to go try locate Kowalski, soas to be sure she was safe and sound.
At least that was the plan, till there was a tap on my door, and I opened it to find the cute little sailorgirl in her birthday uniform, and saw that her tits bore two pointed coffee-pink medals, and then found out she could do lips and tongue on what had been under my thong, endlessly lapping and sucking the juice from my lemon, unstoppably, insatiably.
.......................
I awoke in my bunk in my cabin around 7.00 of the same day’s evening, to find the little sailor honey with her arms around my waist, looking attentive love up into my eyes.
“I good bed?!” she asked me brightly.
I looked at her like a dumb cluck, not understanding the question, still sleep-dozy.
Her pretty face looked forlorn. Then she pouted, with her lovely soft brown eyes cast down: and began to cry, sobbing: “I no good bed: you spank me...”.
I kissed the honey and told her no more than truth, that she had been great shakes and licked me slaked.
She brightened like sunbeams after a summer shower and giggled: “I good bed: you spank me!”
I forwent the temptation to play tympani on her sweet little ass, and got her to sponge me down, between kisses, in the shower instead.
This little package of sweet mischief was devotion itself. Even though she was the chick, she fussed over me like a mother hen, fastening my suspender clasps and zipping me up in my choice of evening gown for the cocktails that would precede dinner and the gambling that would afterwards proceed and exceed excess.
“You like: Lickme?” she queried.
I looked at her astonished.
“Me ‘Lickme’. You like: Lickme?” she explained
“You’re a sweetheart Lickme” I assured her, and was rewarded by a smile that spoke unquestionably of unquestioning love.
“You go drinks now. Lickme warm bed you return when”, she twinkled, and I took her hand and kissed her sweet little fingers.
.......................
I felt no guilt from bedding Lickme till I got to the boats lounge, and saw Kowalski wiggling around on the top tip of tiptoes in her ballet booties, gliding on her beautiful legs around the passengers, with a tray full of drinks, she would curtsey like sex on legs, before she proffered offered and deferred to the rich bitches who had ordered them.
I looked up and down Kowalski’s legs and swerving curves, and decided whatever gym she used to keep that trim I was gonna buy an eternity’s membership.
Lola loved to surround herself with the famous from film-land, and they loved the frisson of being in the company of such notorious women as Lola, and Bonito Clyde.
Famous actresses mixed with upcoming starlets, and the buzz of tutored voices spoke lines that, for once, they’d had to think out for themselves.
Here these women could relax, and no one batted eyelid at seeing an old Hollywood lead leading a young Bollywood extra by her pretty hand, as they exchanged looks that said just lust.
“You’re a very efficient waiter”, the mature-beauty of the lead in my favourite weepy praised the attentive Kowalski in my mid-distant hearing. She was looking at the radiant red curls of Kowalski’s boy-cut with its left-side parting.
“Ma’am thank you ma’am”, Kowalski responded, with a very leggy swiftly bobbed curtsey, that her tits followed with their individual independent bobbing, just behind time.
“I just love the way you’ve done your hair: it looks so sweet: it really suits you”, the famous star added, as Kowalski blushed divinely.
“Ma’am thank you ma’am” Kowalski whispered, with her eyes cast down demurely.
“What’s your name sweetheart?” my celluloid flame dame now enquired.
“Ma’am I’m ‘Hadrian’ ma’am”, Kowalski obediently responded.
“’Adrianna’?” the star queried, puzzled.
“Ma’am no ma’am, ‘Hadrian’ ma’am, thank you ma’am”, Kowalski reaffirmed
“’Hadrian’? Well, sweetheart, I hope your dear momma won’t mind if I say that that is rather an odd name to give a girl.....”, my star of stars mused, with a perplexed look and a gentle voice.
“Ma’am, I’m the cabin-boy ma’am”, I heard Kowalski explain to the dumfounded queen of the best films and love scenes I had ever seen.
Our attention was then called to Lola, who tinkled a tiny crystal bell.
“Your attention please ladies!” she called.
“Thank you!” she then added, in order to silence some ongoing chatter.
“Ladies, I trust by now, that our handsome cabin-boy, Hadrian, has provided you with your choice of drink.”
“This is young Hadrian’s first voyage at sea. He wanted to be a sailor so very much, that he has run away from home, just so he can look as dishy as he does in that uniform!”
Several wolf-whistles then punctuated the air to join in the fun.
“With his good looks, when his voice breaks, he’s gonna break many a girls heart for sure”, Lola added, as the rest of the audience latched onto the theme, and ogled Kowalski with appreciation for her physical and facial charms, and their obvious contradiction with the erotic theme that Lola was playing out, and that they had now also caught onto, and were suddenly keen to join in with.
“Should we hold a raffle, to buy him a razor?” called a voice in mock serious tone.
“Has he dipped his wick yet?” called another, to a peel of following laughter.
“I don’t know why they call him Hadrian”, yet another called out, “You look at that bulge in his pants, and try to tell me that it ain’t King Dick himself coiled up in there ready to pounce!”
“Yea, come on Hadrian show us your cock!” shouted another voice.
“Oh look: the poor boy’s blushing!”
“Yea, wouldn’t you blush if you were the only boy among all these fabulous women?!” yet another teaser added, before enquiring.....
“Are you getting a hard-on Hadrian, among all these girls?”
Kowalski was pink with embarrassment.
“Please now ladies: one momenteroso” Lola called, “I only wanted to give you the chance to say ‘Hi’ to the handsome young man in our midst, and make him feel welcome, since this is his very first time at sea, and he is a long ways from home.”
“And I also want to ask you all to keep your eyes open for a couple of stowaways, hiding somewhere on this vessel!”
“Now, please be reassured! There is absolutely nothing for any of you to worry about. We are well out at sea now, and if those miscreantementos don’t want to find if they can swim home without knowing which way to go, they would hardly dare cause any of us any trouble. I mean, there’s fifty of us, a crew of twenty, and just two of them?! They wouldn’t have a chance. And nor will they have any chance if I get hold of them!” Lola concluded, emphatically.
The crew, including our cabin-boy, Hadrian here, are briefed to look out. But if you do happen to spot anything suspect: suspicious movements, two conspirators going around together like they was twins, that kind of thing, please let me or Bonito or one of the crew know. Thank you all...... Dinner will be served shortly....”
At that point, the wonderful Nubian captain walked in and excused herself to whisper in Lola’s ear.
Lola knew how to keep an audience and, despite the seeming conclusion to her just now announcements, we all stood around watching, somehow fascinated.
“Are you certain Captain?” Lola enquired, with a subliminal look to see for sure that she still had our attention.
“Ma’am yes ma’am”
“Ladies, it seems there has been a development.....”
“Are you quite certain Captain?”
The captain nodded politely.
“Ladies, it seems we have a fix on the stowaways, and that we have a traitor in our midst!” Lola announced.
On hearing the latter phrase, I bristled, panicked that Kowalski and I had been sussed, and were about to be thrown off the yacht without a call to the coastal command rescue service.
“It seems ladies, that our charming cabin-boy knows exactly where the stowaways are, because he, the traitorous little thug, has hidden them away, and is keeping them hidden! But my crew have found him out. Now I’m gonna flush the truth outta him, and we can round them up and dine in peace. Come here boy!!”
My instinct was intervene, but I knew true that if I whistle blew, I’d blow all chance of nailing Lola and Bonito as suspects for the snuffing of Pussy Purr. And so I told myself that Kowalski was a grown-up girl and that I would have to go along with whatever happened. I would be guided by her. If she showed or said she wanted out: we were out as soon as exit found.
“Come here Hadrian!” Lola repeated.
Kowalski wiggled toward the band stage on which Lola stood. Some sweet starlet was kind enough to take the empty tray from Kowalski’s pretty little hands. At Lola’s beckoning finger, with one small step for a girl: one gigantically leggy-leap for girlkind, Kowalski stepped her goddess’ body onto the stage.
“Are you hiding stowaways Hadrian?!” Lola demanded.
“Ma’am no ma’am, I know nothing about stowaways ma’am” Kowalski insisted with a tremor in her soprano from seeing the look in Lola’s cruel pink eyes.
“Oh yes you do, you lying young bastard. Turn around and face the ladies here boy, and woe betide you and the stowaways, if you continue to lie to me young man!!”
Kowalski turned, and I saw the utter fear on her face, and yet she was so brave she never betrayed me by calling for my help. And so I knew I must not interfere. If Kowalski made no signal, who was I to jump in and foul up all our planning.
“I’ll ask you once more, and once more only, Hadrian. Are you hiding stowaways Hadrian?!” Lola pressed with a low menacing tone.
Ma’am no ma’am, I honestly and truly know nothing about stowaways ma’am: honestly ma’am”, Kowalski continued to insist, amid the expectant total silence that had now cloaked the cocktail lounge.
Kowalski turned from her over-shoulder pleading and looked at us once more.
“Lift the front of your tee-shirt Hadrian”, Lola insisted.
“You heard me boy, lift the front of your fucking tee, and do it now!!” Lola shouted without raising her voice beyond menace mode.
Obedience found shaking hands as Kowalski, with a dazed look of total confusion on her sweet face, took the hem of her sawn-off tee, and lifted it, to reveal her supremely white, extremely beautiful breasts: breasts with exquisite semi-translucent delicate pink nipples: nipples with areola that that must have formed the last quarter of each breast.
“Ladies and ladies, we got them!” Lola announced, “We got the stowaways!”
“I’m surprised at you Hadrian. Just how long did you think you could keep them hidden boy? I put my trust in you. I took you on, a complete unknown, a runaway even... I took you on as cabin-boy, the first rung on a career at sea, and you betrayed me young man! Not only were you hiding them, but no doubt you were going to steal my food to feed them!”
“Captain: take the boy and the two girls he’s been hiding under his shirt: take all three of them up onto the main deck. I’ve decided to be lenient with the boy. I can hardly throw the girls overboard. So I’ll keep all three onboard, but only after the girls been given a lesson they won’t forget.”
Captain Ngano put her gentle black hands on the beauty of the ghost-white upper-arms of the lovely Kowalski, and we saw her led out.
“Now, after that little drama... now that’s sorted, shall we dine?” Lola invited.
A conversational buzz followed. I wanted hike to find Kowalski and try save her. I was minded excuse, such as a visit to the Jill to spend a cent, but we were being beckoned in to dine, and I got carried along with the sweet-scented tide.
Lola spread a sumptuous table, with the finest wine, and the produce of a team of three top-tier Parisian chefs in her yacht’s fully appointed galley.
She had sat me with my worshipped film-star on my left, and the prettiest little angel in the lowest cut neckline and highest uplift-bra on my right, so I was between one heaven and two.
Amid the chatter and the five courses, we all listened. While we were pretending not to do so, we all listened. It was happening on the deck on top of the dining room: the top deck in the outside world. We could hear every sound. Of course, it was intended we should. Lola was giving us entertainment while we dined.
I knew the bitter whistle of a bullwhip in full-flight at full-force when I heard it. I knew the sound of that vicious echoing slap when it kissed and cut a bare body, and the pause from the shock that precedes the terrible pain, and, when I heard it too, I knew the subsequent pitiful uncontrollable scream of a girl’s agony from being lashed, her soft skin cut with stripes of scorching fire.
There were long intervals between strokes, and the chatter and the wine made most of those gathered table seem to take no account of it. Lola and Bonito were all eyes for each other throughout. But they too noticed the tone of Kowalski’s cries turn tone and tune no more than three strokes in. Three stripes and she was out. Three stripes, three brutal lashes and Kowalski’s sighs and sobs could be heard in the silence that recognised the signs: the signs that she was in betrayal and in denial of that betrayal at one and the same time. And from then onwards her screams were surrender to gender. Shocked surrender first out, then astonished surrender, then a fight against surrender, then complete surrender, then a wanton longing to surrender more than more than completely and for evermore.
From the first three onwards, I counted forty-seven more lashes. Forty-seven more wicked wild wind whistles, of a whip winding wildly terrifyingly through air before the sound like a rifle shot of the poor girl taking impact like its target was a mile beyond her, and her soft sweet flesh had gotten in the way, the real target’s unpityingly painful price to pay.
All the sounds and signs said me, that Kowalski was getting an expertly executed brutal flogging, and I was traitor betraying, and not alone in that for sure: cos at the sound of Kowalski’s whipping and cries of horrendous pain, my panties were sopping soaked.
Then, after an hour we heard:
“Say ‘thank you’ boy!!” as the captain’s humiliating instruction to tell us and poor Kowalski that it was over.
“Ma’am, thank you ma’am”, Kowalski’s sweet trembling voice whispered, just loud enough to put a smile in Lola’s eyes and make her kiss Bonito Clyde in celebration.
For the rest of our leisurely dinner we listened Kowalski’s moans and sobs.
.............................
Only after coffee had arrived did I feel safe to go see if I could comfort Kowalski some.
Talk of the roulette wheel having been set up in the cocktail lounge, prompted remind that I had a role to play. But I had conscience too, and was realise now, as I should have been outset, just what I’d let poor Kowalski in for.
Gambling wasn’t compulsory, and a number of the stars from the Hollywood and Bollywood sets were talking of bed; and it might even have been for sleep.
As a show of my intentions, allaying suspicions if any, I fumbled purse to find my cigarettes and sloped out through the cocktail lounge to take the night air.
Once out, I wanted hurry; but knew stroll was better appearance.
Kowalski was tied mast. The ghostly whiteness of her naked redhead’s body glowed spiritually in the cast of cool moonlight. She was tied with her back to the wooden mast that ran decks down, with first port call its journey being middle the dining table I had just left.
She had her back to me. She was stood upright in just her tiptoe ballet booties, roped to the mast, around the individual ankles of her slightly parted feet, round her belly, and her neck, and with her arms pulled behind the mast with her slender wrists tied to hold them there.
As I approached, the golden down on her forearms sparkled in the moon-glow.
I walked slowly up to her, and hoped she too was realise we had to voce sotto lessen we be overheard.
And when I got front of her, I immediate lit cigarette soas to give me occupation and try not to show in my face what I saw with my eyes.
Kowalski had been whipped round from behind. The target had been her tits, and none of the strokes had missed.
Lessen there were two whippers, whoever had wielded the bull had been amphitheatrerous, or whatever you call it for using both hands equal strong, cos Kowalski had been whipped round from left and right.
Her tits had taken all fifty lashes: save that each had taken twenty-five apiece. The wicked tip of a bullwhip, the far end on the longest and fastest part of the whip’s lightening trip: the end she had dreaded in time terms and in terms of its tip’s termination, as she awaited finality of the bitter whistling-whir it cut in the air while it sliced its unstoppable path toward unspeakable pain, around from invisible inevitability behind her, again and again, to appearance: suddenly like a hell snake licking out its bifurcated tongue before it flashed lashed and slashed her innocent bare tit, strike striping stricken its soft firm gentleness with its white-heated fingers of furious flesh-flaying flames.
Her breasts were criss-crossed with livid red welts of burning pain: welts which bled and bled even more where the bullwhip had kissed a tit in the same spot twice or more and the welts crossed paths in consequence. Her nipples, both nipples, were split, and a trickle of blood was still running from her left nipple under that gentle breast, like scarlet milk: the milk of inhumane unkindness.
Yet she smiled as best she could when she saw me, and her eyes acknowledged my touching of my lips with an upright forefinger to warn quiet-speak wanted, else discover.
“They sure sorted out my charlies for me didn’t they Charley?” Kowalski whispered, with her tear-filled eyes striving to see her stripes, which she couldn’t because her head was held firm upright to the post by the silk rope around her slender neck.
As she spoke my eyes could not help but look at the insides of her thighs and note the cynical way her body had betrayed her. The evidence was drying, but the lava flow had been considerable and was down to her knees at least, at least as far as the moonlight would let me see.
“Say: you won’t believe it. I was so nearly orgasm Charley! Great god alive: they were whipping my tits off me and I damn nearly came?!” she then sobbed, her tortured mind confused, as was intended, as that was her ultimate torture.
“I wanted more Charley. Can you believe that?! I wanted more for crisakes!!”
“Take it easy kid: take it easy....”, I wised her.
“Will you finish me Charley?” she begged.
“I’m so there! I’m so almost there, and it just won’t happen Charley! It just won’t happen. Not like it would have for sure if they’d whipped me some more like I was begging them to when they stopped.”
“I was begging them Charley? Can you believe that? I wanted them to whip me some more Charley!!” Tears welled and then spilled from Kowalski’s gorgeous eyes as she told of her body’s betrayal of her mind.
“Please finish me Charley! Please!! Oh god I so want a cum Charley. I need a cum so help me: I’ve just got to be finished to a cum, please god. Give me a cum Charley, it’s eating me alive. I’m so cum, and I can’t cum Charley: it’s burning me to hell: jeese give me a cum!!!” she croaked with tears pouring from her gorgeous dark-browns.
“Sorry kid. I just can’t do that....”, I whispered.
I offered her my lit cigarette to calm her and try and sooth the precipice of sensated-unsated super-orgasm she had been deliberately whipped to and left at to make her torture complete.
“I don’t smoke”, she smiled and attempted joke in choke and croak of voice as more tears trickled in train down her peach soft cheeks.
To signal she should make an exception in her pain, I motioned a ‘come on’ message with the hand I held the cigarette with, and, as if in her bondage she had any other choice, she let me put it between her lips.
As the smoke soothed her a modicum’s miniature of a minor minuscule minimum, she raised her sweet eyes heavenwards. And, as she exhaled, I watched the smoke weave rise and spread from her lovely lips, before it dissipated; leaving only the fragrant aroma of the finest Virginia as the sign that it had filled a momentary passage in fleeting endless finite time.
“Do we carry on after this? Do we carry on with the case kid?”, I whispered urgently.
“Uh-hu” Kowalski muttered from side her closed lips as she smoked the cigarette, trying to nod her head to emphasise her ‘yes’.
After a whiles, the tobacco had worked to calm her a little, so I reached over and took it, and watched the blue-grey swirling of its smoke curl heavenwards from her heavenly lips in the mellow moonlight.
I was being selfish of course. While Kowalski had had my smoke, I had been missing the benefit of the nicotine myself. So I put it in my mouth once more to finish it, and could instantly taste, and deeply enjoyed, the confirmation on its filter tip that Kowalski had just now had that cigarette in her cunt.
“I gotta go Adrienne...” I told her, with a look and tone that repeated my question if she was sure we could carry on with our mission.
“I know Charley. I know”, she whispered and tried to smile.
To go quickly was necessary, elsen I’d have betrayed us both by trying to get Kowalski outta where I’d gotten her into, even if, mid-ocean like we were, I’d no idea how.
I was in no mood now for the roulette wheel, and went straight back to my cabin.
When I entered my cabin, Lickme came straight to me, and, not knowing that that was exactly where I had just been, urgently urged me not to go on deck.
“You no go top deck see”, she repeated, with a look of such sweet concern for me on her lovely face, that I wanted kiss her there and then.
“Why?” I responded, giving casual tone my best shot.
“Miss Charley no go top deck”, Lickme parroted.
“Why ever not?” I put her way, wondering what she had seen and what she knew about what she had seen, if anything.
“You no go top deck” Lickme concerned again, before adding: “Captain order Lickme whip naughty cabin-boy’s two naughty girls. He cry very much. But he bad boy!”
Once I had undressed and Lickme had joined me in a long shower, to let me kiss and fondle her lithe alive oh: her lithe alive oh so lovely body, and once we were both ready for bed, I took hold of Lickme, turned her over so she faced due south, and slapped her pretty butt till she cried too.
.............................
As she passed me a black coffee while I lay abed first thing next morning: “I still hurt spank”, Lickme pouted silly-sadly, and then smiled broadly.
“You got what you deserve for having such a lovely ass”, I told her.
Lickme giggled, and as she went back to the kitchenette to tidy and clean, made an unnecessary extra effort to wiggle, before grinning prettily over her shoulder to see if I was watching her butt.
She’d been tripping around my cabin stark naked since she’d sucked me out, and I almost wondered if I would ever see her with her clothes on again.
“What clothes Lickme get for Miss Charley this morning?” she enquired efficiently.
“Jeans and a tee will do for breakfast won’t it?” I enquired.
“Sure” Lickme assured.
“Lickme wash Miss Charley shower?” she then asked.
“Sure”, I responded, looking forward to kissing the devoted angel again.
.............................
Breakfast was a drift-in-and-out as you please affair. There was no sign of Lola or Bonito. That, I assumed, was because the casino crowd might even yet not have made it to bed.
I sat and ordered a fresh-squeezed orange juice and a full vegetarian. There was no one near me to talk to, so I listened to a duet chatting further down the table.
“Did you see what had been done to the cabin-girl?”
“Boy.....cabin-boy”, the woman listening corrected, gently.
“Jeese they’d whipped her! Oh, alright then, whipped him, if you must! And her... his punishment isn’t over yet. Lola said she’d have a treat for us this morning, and a special event this afternoon.”
“What was he begging you for? You know: when you were drooling over his welts?”
“I wasn’t drooling!”
“Oh yes you were. And they were beautiful: in a cruel way, exceedingly beautiful. It must have been agony for him, poor boy...oh his screams when they were whipping him!.....”
“A vibrator. She...he asked if I had a vibrator. But one of the sailors said he wasn’t allowed to cum, and that was why he was begging anyone who would listen. And the sailor soon sorted that out, pouring a bucket of seawater on his whipped tits. That made him howl; what with the salt.....”
“Morning Shakira!”.... I turned as a famous star of Bollywood musicals glided in in an exquisite green sari.
“Have you seen what they’ve done with the cabin-boy?”
“Oh yes: we saw him after the casino at 3.00 this morning, still tied up after that horrible whipping”.
“No. I mean now. You should see what they are doing with him now.”....
.............................
This had gone too far, but what was I to do? I consoled myself with the thought that maybe whatever was happening to poor Lieutenant Kowalski now, it might be something she could bear till I got the dope on the cause of the fate of the Jane Doe that we now knew was Pussy Purr.
I tried not to look concerned, and ate my breakfast and swallowed a slug of coffee, before I strolled out, as casually as possible, so as to disguise both my anxiety, and, of course, that Kowalski and I were in league.
There was no problem knowing where to head. A crowd had gathered around some scene, and I heard a shout of: “Shake them boy!” and the slap of a whip on a naked body, and laughter.
I strolled over to the scene.
They were making Kowalski scrub the wooden top deck. The patch of deck she was on had been sprayed over by the contents of a bucket and more of soapy water, and poor Kowalski was crawling in the wet.
They had strapped her ankles right up and tight around the tops of her thighs next to her crotch, and she was crawling on all-fours on the deck, displaying some incredibly bold thigh.
Kowalski was being made to crawl in the direction her mistress required, by the fact that she had a handle. Adrienne wore a tight black leather thong, and up from the rear of her thong rose a wooden handle that finished in a ‘T’, the horizontal of which a pretty sailorette gripped in her tiny hands.
And there were no prizes for guessing that the end of that handle went through the thong and beyond it. And beyond the thong, and beyond a little crossbar to stop it going all the way up, it was up poor Kowalski’s asshole. And how far it was up her could only be judged by the look of pain and horror in her lovely brown eyes.
But, as if that were not cruel enough, Kowalski had had both of her brutally whipped breasts bound around with tight rubber bands that bore long soft bristles. So she was crawling around on the deck on all fours, with her strangled tits dangling, and being ordered to make her tits swing so that the bristles swept the wet floor. She had been made into a human floor-scrubber and her bare back showed where she had been and was going to be whipped till she had swept the whole of the deck with her tortured tits.
“How is Hadrian shaping up Captain? Has he learned his lesson?” I heard Lola enquire, while she casually watched Kowalski’s cruel humiliation as Adrienne crawled, stopping to swing her tits to mock-clean a patch, before crawling forward, and stopping to swing her tits again to brush the deck, on literal pain of receiving the strap-whip across her bare back if she tried to stop swinging.
“Ma’am: unfortunately, he’s a slow-learner ma’am”
“Well, when he’s finished scrubbing, scrub him up and get him uniform again. I want him serving pre-luncheon aperitifs Captain”
“Ma’am certainly ma’am...... And the forecast storm ma’am?”
“Yes the storm of course. How long have we got before we are best advised to make port?”
“Ma’am we’d better get underway at sunset today at the very latest ma’am”
“And the weather till then?”
“Ma’am you can rely on sun and calm ma’am: the classic ‘lull before the storm’ ma’am”
“Okay Captain. With the weather threatening like it is, I’ll stow the casino for the rest of this voyage now, but maybe we can get some sunbathing in this afternoon?”
“Ma’am you mean the boy will sunbathe too ma’am?”
“Most certainly.”
“Ma’am, as you wish it ma’am” the Captain answered, with a polite salute to Lola.
My relief at overhearing that we were headed back to a port, any port would do in the storm I’d gotten Kowalski into, I can only leave you to imagine. The whole investigation had gone tits-up, and for poor Kowalski all too literally.
I would never forgive myself for leading Kowalski into a situation where a sweet kid like her would end up having her breasts bullwhipped, followed by the shit humiliation they were pouring on her now, making her scrub deck with her whipped tits.
This op was over. Another way to pin down what had happened to poor Pussy Purr would have to be found. Even given the bloated float with the fish-fed face that was left of her in the harbour, forensics might tell if’n she’d been at the losing end of a bullwhip too. But, obviously, that would only tell us what had happened her, not for sure who’d done it to her of course.
I wanted get powwow with Kowalski to sure her up that we were heading shore and her suffering was nearly over. We still couldn’t reveal who we really were of course. If we had Lola would have seen to us somehow, most like on a permanent basis. Even at less bad, her knowing we were PI and cop combo would blow our participation in any further undercover in her empire forever-wise for a dead cert.
I returned cabin and got Lickme to change my clothes for a formal lunch gathering, before I went lounge in a blouse miniskirt stockings and stilettos, all in white to suit my coffee mix-race complexion some, at nearing midday, still wondering how I could message-up Kowalski.
It was a relief to see her there in the cocktail lounge doing the tray round again. Sure her ghost-white redhead’s body made the sore knees she’d gotten crawling deck-scrub look all the redder. And true too, under her cut-off tee you could see the start of some of the cruel welts that trailed up to and over the soft-firm firm-soft complexion of her lovely milk-white breasts. It sure as hell made me wince with pain for her, to see them! And even the thought of the bitches pouring a bucket of salt seawater over her open wounds after they’d whipped her.....!!
The uniform she wore this time included a pelmet trying to claim it was a skirt, and convincing everyone looking that it was a failure, because of the enormity of the extent of Kowalski’s fabulous thighs it left openly open for optimum optical ogle.
She was up on tiptoe in ballets again, and to look at her legs was a pleasurable sin. Such heavenly shapeliness is surely the devil’s own enticement. Her calf muscles flexed to greater visibility when she wiggled around and her thighs were smooth bold and boldly strong. Legs wise my clit said Kowalski had a superb pair at which to stare!
A thong was integral to the skirt, and, she was giving us the full long snow-white legs with her bare milk-white titties jiggle-joggle-juggling under her top. While she trayed drinks around the guests again, like she had done pre-dinner on the first day, she was swinging ass like she was the pendulum of the devil’s own clock about to strike us all to endless black midnight.
Under her sailor’s hat, her boy-crop with a side parting in her glowing redhead’s mop, told you by its very contradiction that this was a supremely feminine girl. And her soft brown eyes and her dusting of schoolgirl freckles on a complexion an outmatch for any schoolgirl, and her bold lips confirmed that she was just a walking kiss.
Of course with her skirt so short, and her thong, her butt was bare under there and as she curtsied and then bent straight-leggy-legged to offer up her drinks on the tray in her dainty little hands, she was getting it patted and pinched and was blushing like an innocent virgin consequent.
But if I didn’t know better though, if indeed better I knew, I’d say Kowalski was enjoying being the centre of attention, the shapely leggy sexy chick that everyone wanted to smack on the ass to tell her how horny she was, and how horny she was making all of us just to look at her angel’s face and hourglass body, her titties doing a wanton war-dance for wampum under her flimsy top as she wiggled around, and those superb long, so long, white, so white, bare shapely, so shapely legs of hers.
“How are things going with you boy?” Lola enquired of Kowalski, as Kowalski bent to put a drink off her tray, and Bonito Clyde took the chance to run a pleasured hand over Kowalski’s thus exposed ass cheek.
“Ma’am fine thank you ma’am” Kowalski responded nervously, with a shy attempt at a smile.
“You’re a good looking boy!” Lola smiled.
“Ma’am thank you ma’am” Kowalski blushed.
“I’ve gotten a vacancy for a full-time cabin-boy on the Shapely-Shark, Hadrian. I mean a sign-up for a career as a cabin-boy on all my cruises. I mean permanento Hadrian. Now, are you the boy for me? Are you the boy for the job? Do you want permanent cabin-boy Hadrian?”
“Ma’am yes ma’am...I mean yes please ma’am”, Kowalski answered without hesitation.
“You’ve had a taste of the discipline onboard my ship Hadrian. Can you take the discipline boy?”
“Ma’am yes ma’am” Kowalski responded, standing to dutiful attention with her lovely legs curvedly straight in her tiptop-tiptoe ballet-booties, and holding her stance, just about, even when Bonito pinched her bare ass’ right-cheek.
“That’s the kind of answer I like to hear boy! Now you finish up drink-fetch here, till my honoured guests go lunch, and then you tell the captain that I gave you permit to spend this afternoon sunbathing. D’yer hear me now?”
“Ma’am thank you ma’am: thank you ever so much ma’am!” sweet Kowalski emotioned with tears of joy nearing spill her darling dark browns.
...........................
After overhearing that conversation with Kowalski, I enjoyed my food for the first time.
Sure, I did a lot of overhearing, but sometimes you overhear cos you’re a PI and that’s part the skill, and sometimes because it’s intended you should. It was the second of those with that talk ‘tween Lola and Kowalski, and we’d all overheard it and were all conclude that Lola could be kind if’n she was so mind.
Okay, so Kowalski had said ‘yes’ to fulltime cabin-boy. But that was clear lie. When the woman who’s asking has just had your tits whipped such that the pain is still a forever never-ending remind, you ain’t gonna say her a ‘no’, if’n you’re wise.
And, lessen the weather, like a girl, changed its mind, we were heading back to port. I heard talk about bikinis and I was going to show I had a figure worth a nun’s wolf-whistle, and get some sun myself. I’d be ready action to steer Kowalski outta where I’d gotten her into when we made port, but that was a time wait awhiles yet.
...........................
I bikini’d up in my favourite white. I’d bought Paris. It was tiny luxury in designer shape and style. But the designer musta worked stitching with a microscope and then an accountant, cos I had never before bought so little for so much.
I barefooted on the wooden boards top deck, and headed for the swimming pool where I could already see a crowd of Hollywood and Bollywood lovelies showing why they conjured up such as wet-dreams are made on.
It was only as I got close that I saw what they’d done to her.
I’d missed Lickme from my cabin. Her not being there, I was assume she had to put some clothes on sometime, and seeing her in uniform was therefore no great surprise, even if the plastic bucket she was carrying around looked decidedly outta place.
They were laughing and pointing. I mean the guests of Lola and Bonito. And it wasn’t little Lickme they were mocking.
I knew now I should never have used the word ‘kind’ in connection with Lola; but, as ever before on this cruise of crises for her, Kowalski had cause to know it more.
“Please don’t be alarmed ladies and ladies! Their powers of transformation are well known. The ancient mariners tell tales of cabin-boys transformed by infiltrators from the sea. And our handsome young man, Hadrian, has just proved the truth that sometimes they come on board ships in the dead of night and bite boys’ cocks to draw blood and make him stiff and then suck the boy off to swallow his spunk thus to turn the boy into a fellow sea creature.”
“We hope and pray that this is just a temporary transformation ladies. Hope is at hand. Our captain has experienced this kind of happening before. The procedure to be adopted is to treat Hadrian as if his transformation were permanent: as if he had become, what he has indeed become through the magic mysteries of the sea, forever. He may in fact never change back. But by treating this present guise appropriately, he can perhaps, just perhaps, be rescued and return as Hadrian the handsome cabin-boy we all now know and love!”
Lola was on the bullhorn and having a whale of a time introducing the new torment she had ordered for Kowalski. And I freely admit that what was going on brought instant cream into my éclair.
Kowalski was stark naked and lying by the pool. Stark naked, that is, but for the sailor’s uniform hat she still had perched on her gorgeous golden boy-cropped red hair. Stark naked with her lovely arms tied at the wrists behind her back. Stark naked but for the tail she was wallowing around in completely helplessly, like she was on a fishmonger’s slab.
It was as long as her legs: her lovely long snow-white legs. Save that she was laid down, she stood to attention within it, with her legs closed close together. Bar some artificial sculpting of the pliable plastic during its casting to make out like scales, the tail she was in was transparent, so all of her lovely legs and her gorgeous ass were visible through it.
It was fitted up to just above the top of her hips and hugged her waist so close it would never slip, because her hips would ever prevent that.
From her hips to her toes, the toes of her feet that were stretched out like she was tiptoe-ballet standing inside it, giving her legs great shape within it: from her hips to her toes the tail tapered. Then, at her toes, it was formed into two tail-end fin-fans that were really just the one tail-end, in that it made an upside-down ‘V’, with the point of the V between the stood-together big toes of her pretty feet.
Kowalski had been made into a mermaid.
Adrienne had been made into a mermaid with a sailor’s hat left on as the supposed identity truth, that this was the cabin-boy Hadrian, transformed by evil magic.
Kowalski had been made into a mermaid and she wallowed on the deck helplessly sealed into a transparent flexible plastic fish’s tail that clung so close to her lovely legs and stupendous thighs and shapely ass, that she had no hope of ever escaping, and even less than no hope with her hands tied as they were.
And I looked close, and the transparency of the tail showed she was penetrated, front by a dildo. Within the tail bondage Kowalski had been sealed into by a heating iron run down the outer seam after the two halves had been glued forever together, so that she could now only be cut out: into the tail bondage was an inbuilt wooden dildo, broad and long as the broom handle it probably was, that was splitting her, and pushed high up her pink sheath. It went down to her knees within the tail, sealed in such that as she wallowed in or swished her tail, it was working her, and working her good and hard.
They had wet the deck and poured water on her, supposedly because, she being half-fish, she needed to be kept wet. And Lickme was throwing Kowalski raw fish that Kowalski was supposed to catch in her mouth like a performing seal; else she got her bare top body whipped.
And so Kowalski was wallowing around, working her tail by bending her lovely legs to slither herself to the fish anyhow she could to avoid the strap-whip and by working her tail she was working the broom handle dildo and fucking herself vigorously deeply.
I now watched her squashing her milk-white breasts into the deck, the breasts she had had so savagely whipped: squashing her soft gentle soft-firm milk-white breasts and her so recently whip-split nipples into the wet deck as she fought to get one of the raw fish into her lovely mouth, and overcome her revulsion at the stench and taste of it, and try to chew and swallow it: and I heard the loud crack of the whip across her bare shoulders, and heard her scream of pain, as she worked her tail and thus fucked herself with the dildo inside her tail, slithering on the wet deck to the next fish she had tried to raise her head to catch and failed. And she was whipped for every fish she failed to catch in her mouth when it had been thrown, even those that were tossed nowhere near her luscious lips.
This was Lola’s idea of sunbathing for her cabin-boy!
The sun beat down on Kowalski’s redhead’s whiteness, and her soft flesh was burning red in its relentless rays. She was the kind of chick who should always be parasol, even if she’d been creamed with blocker. She could only burn, never turn tan.
When at last they untied Kowalski’s wrists and took off her hat, my relief was brief.
I’d assumed release, and tried to calm my concern by looking unconcerned. I found a sun lounger and lay me downside up to drink sun on my back, undoing my bikini top soas not to get strap spoil my intended all-over.
It was error. I heard fuss made and sounds of voices expressing amazement without words. If someone had spoke something that had let me know what was happening, I coulda maybe intervened some. But I was only afterwards realise that the tone of my fellow guests was one of astonished surprise. I supposed for now and for wrong therefore, that the tone was only from all Lola had already had done to Kowalski to entertain her guests. It was a tone expressing that surely she would not go that far, yet accepting that Lola would always have one more surprise.
I heard a couple of metallic snicks, and chains rattle, but it was only at Kowalski’s terrified scream of “NO!!!!! that I turned over sat up and saw that she had been lifted and they were swinging her to and fro, body and fish’s tail, one sailorgirl holding her pretty hands and the other her mermaid’s fishtail where her legs and feet were sealed, and they were swinging her like a hammock in a force-nine. A girl in gloves held a spiked ball, the size of three-foot diameter beach-ball, over Kowalski, and I saw that Kowalski’s wrists were chained to that ball, and that the ball was a mass of six-inch long spiteful steel needle spikes, pointing pitilessly out between nine-inch long ones.
They had chained Kowalski by her slender wrists to a Judas-Ball, a viciously spiked ball, big-beach-ball-sized. And they were swinging Kowalski at the edge of the yacht above the safety rail, and she was struggling in fear and horror. And the Hollywood and Bollywood girls were counting out, chanting in joyous chorus......
A...ONE-ERRR!!!.........
.....A...TWOO-ERRR!!........
.....A...THREE-ERRR!!!!!!!........
And, just as the sailors threw Kowalski into the sea, I got up and ran to try and save her. And I screamed “Adrienne!!!!” only, perhaps fortunately, for the sound ‘Hadrian!!!!’ to be heard above the passengers’ bubbling Babel babble and Kowalski’s horrendous scream of absolute terror.
And I got to the rail, and I saw her flying through the air to become the answer to gravity’s lust-filled prayers. And then a splash as the sea swallowed her beautiful body: the blue waters slicing asunder as if she were returning to the eternal womb. The mothering waters swallowed her beauty forever, with her sadistic fish tail bondage taking her down first, and the spiked Judas-Ball the last to follow, as her heavenly golden-downed arms and dainty hands disappeared beneath the waters in which we were anchored. Then bubbles from her shocked exhalation troubled the sea’s surface for the few brief seconds in which she exhaled the last of her lovely life. And I showed all the cowardice I cannot even now justify in retrospect: though it is true that I cannot swim.
And then suddenly, the spiked ball bobbed up above the water, and I saw the hoops one-eighty-degrees apart at the side of the ball: the hoops to which the chains fitted, and knew they led to sweet Adrienne’s slender wrists down below the sea-blue wave swell. And then she surfaced somehow, fighting for her sweet life: swishing her mermaid’s tail like a landed fish gasping for air and flapping its body to get back to water; but in reverse of that struggle for sweet Adrienne, her struggle being to save herself from drowning.
She screamed and coughed the seawater from her lungs in her total terror gasping for breath in order to exhale a squeal of horror, instead of breathing in her desperately needed lungs-full for should she vanish beneath the waves once more, as the water in which she had just been immersed flowed down her soft flesh as if it were unveiling her beauty newborn afresh: the seductive siren birth of a golden honey mermaid beauty.
And then it was if it were not just my eyes straining to see and watch. It was if I were four-eyed for by-and-by I noticed and knew my body was betraying Adrienne, for not only was my bikini thong’s inside crotch saturated, but my eyes also caught my unstrapped bra: the bikini bra I had unclasped from behind my back and removed the straps of from my shoulders in order it should not pattern my tan.
In my rush to get to the side-rail of the boat, in both the excitement of fear and, as was very evident now, in another shaming and shameful form of excitement, I had completely forgotten my bikini top only to notice now, now that my nipples were so engorged engaged and stiffly aroused, as if they too wanted to see Adrienne suffer if truth be told, that my bikini bra’s cups was hanging and swinging from them.
So as to cover myself and hide my shame, I slid the straps back up my upper arms, and pulled them up onto my shoulders and struggled to fasten the clasp behind me, but never ceased to watch Adrienne’s life and death struggle in the water.
And we saw her lovely whipped titties bobbing in the waters Adrienne’s titties were bobbing two uniquely girly buoys with her split nipples pink beacons to guide rescue craft to her, along with the beauty of the equally pink succulent lips with which she now cried pitiably for our help.
And she worked her legs to flex her tail, the complete beautiful mermaid, with her lovely long lithe lissom legs swishing her artificial tail to keep her afloat, fucking herself with the huge dildo within the tail and high up into her slit, and her bare upper body with her soft-firm firm-soft breasts that had been scourged so brutally with the bullwhip and her schoolgirl-angel’s face showing the agony of her distress as she struggled to stay afloat and thereby alive. And her terrified eyes, her lovely dark-brown eyes and her shock of bright red hair as she stared in horror.
And she lost her struggle and disappeared beneath the water....
.....And then she came up again to a cheer and jeer of inhuman cruelty from the gathering at the yacht’s rail. And she realised her only choice and salvation, and the silence that followed was eager not to miss any detail of the mermaid with her fish’s tale, as she began to swim toward and pull toward herself the floating Judas-Ball to which she was attached by long chains, and bridge a gap which, as she swished her tail, seemed ever to widen from her exhausted exhalations of exaltations that it should offer her arms alms.
And she went under the water again almost spent of strength and yet found superhuman effort to swish her mermaid’s tale to take her to the salvation island of the floating ball and its alms and its mockery of mercy. And Adrienne succeeded in getting her beautiful slim arms around the ball, and we saw the blood as she was pricked and punctured, torn and stabbed by hundreds of its needle-thorns, and watched and saw that the pain was unbearable, but that her fear of drowning was greater, and so she must hug her buoy, the cabin-boy must hug her buoy, and cling on to the Judas-Ball for her dear life for dear life. And the cruel savagery of her torture was revealed when, because it was her only means of staying afloat, she embraced the ball as if a loving wife, to save her life, and thus drove into her innocent soft-firm milk-white breasts and her gentle semi-translucent pink nipples the multi-multitude of needles barbing the barbarous spherical porcupine: the Judas-Ball, so that they penetrated her, traitor to the cause of saving her life, savaging her breasts as she bobbed helplessly on the water within a spreading pool of red from her breasts’ ripping and shredding, as she clung to her saviour and torture. And her violently extracted vibrant vivacious vital red mingled with the ocean’s paradise pacific- blue, and the air was rent with a pitiful scream that was not in tone immediate any more than the cry of a girl in tortured agony from her bullwhipping, and her humiliation, and the betrayal of her being a human being, of her humanity, thrown overboard to struggle in the denigrating bondage that mocked her as half human half fish: a mermaid. It was a scream of passionate pain. It was a scream redolent of relief that she had saved herself from certain drowning. And then, as she used her beautiful legs encased within it to thrash her tail to froth the red blood-stained blue sea, and thus bobbed the Judas-Ball buoy to rip her tits the more: the Judas-Ball she hugged to her gentle bosom with joy as she fucked herself with the inbuilt dildo in her fish’s tale in her mermaid’s tail, harder and faster and harder and faster and harder still: till her tail wagged no more, and her ripped red runnelling bloody bleeding body hugged the spiked ball to her brutalised breasts as if in passionate lover’s embrace with all the strength of her long slim golden-down dappled arms, as the salt water splashed on and into to sear her suffering wounds: and she went as rigid as death with her lovely head thrown back in agony and ecstasy as she embraced her lover, the spiked ball the Judas-Ball betraying her: hugging it in a hold as hard as hades onto and into her ripped tits and savaged nipples, and her scream changed tone to the unmistakable sound of a girl in the highest height of the highest of heightened-high-octane multitudinous-multi-multiple orgasm’s orgasm’s orgasms....
..............................
As we sailed harbour, just over three hours later, I went visit Adrienne where she was being nursed.
And when I opened door, I heard her sweet voice hymning a pretty song that was summer bee kissing petals, like she had nectar on her already so sweet lips. It had a tuneless tone but was melodious and fragrantly dreamy.
She lay naked, face down on a sick-bay bed, one bandaged arm reaching down flicking over the colourful pages of an ancient looking yellowing dog-eared school-age picture-book, spread open on the floor so she could read it. She lolled her head resting her chin edge the bed to look distractedly at the book’s pictures.
Her chest was lying on and pressing into a huge square of gauze covered with some soothing ointment or other. She was kicking her lovely legs slowly to and fro in contra-time with her timeless tonal tune, with her toes pointed to heaven and her calves in great shape consequent, as if, were she stood straight, she had been meandering scented misty mystery wilds, and trying not to let the dewdrops wet all of her entrancing dancing bare feet.
“Ooooh Charley! How darling!!” she greeted, in genuine full-girl loveliness, looking at me with her head turned, but still lying side her head on the bed, since she had to stay face down.
“I can’t move much at the moment Charlie. Could you be an absolute doll: squeeze some of the after-sun out and run it over my shoulders: would you please?”
In my enthusiasm to touch her lovely body, albeit not as I longed, in love, I overdid the squeeze and had to prolong my caress of her redhead’s sensitive skin on her badly sunburnt shoulders and back, to work all the balm in.
“Oh now Charley!” she teased, “I only wanted you to apply the lotion!”
Her lovely dark-brown eyes, such as I could see of them, were distracted as she hummed and kicked her so distracting legs. I wondered if she was covering for pain or high on painkilling drugs, but she seemed as if she had had some kind of instant cure for all she had gone through and that it wasn’t nothing artificial. And I half-feared and half-knew what had done it to her, and what had done it for her, and that they were one and the same.
She then giggled out, before I had even asked, and without turning her head the little she could to make attempt to look at me: “I’m not going ashore Charley”.
“Awe come on Adrienne, what are you saying?....”, I tried, though somehowing it was in a hopelessly lost cause, since she had clearly pre-read my thoughts.
“I’m saying, that Lola has ordered me to stay onboard as crew, Charley, and that means I’ve no choice but to obey.”
Then she sighed her complete happiness, and stretched her toes even more heavenward flexing her stupendous calves to beyond erotic curvature, as her pretty fingers flicked over another page of ‘The Bumper Book of Adventures for Boys’.....
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