Here's a little bons mots that came out of an email. If anyone likes it, I have an idea for a follow up.
All around her, women scampered about, cutting jibs, sheeting the mainsail, and repairing or maintaining her leviathan of a ship. Salty foam sprayed across the bow, and timbers creaked as it plunged head first across waves over and over, but no matter what, the all female crew of the Aurora worked cheerfully to keep her afloat and in top notch condition.
Kesha took out her spyglass and swiveled it across the horizon, scanning for military ships - indeed, the Aurora's charter was reconnaissance for the British navy, based out of Portsmouth, but so far, today, nothing more sinister than pelicans had been sighted . . . until now. A small, pale spec bobbing amongst the waves caught Kesha's eye. 'A bird,' she thought? No, it was waving something white. It must be a stranded sailor.
"Anwen, bring the ship twenty degrees starboard, and prepare the skiff. We have a lone survivor out there." She telescoped the spyglass, and turned.
"Aye, Aye, Captain." Anwen, also known as Anny, was the buxom, redheaded first mate, and she relayed the order to the helmsmen of the moment.
Slowly, the large vessel came within paddling distance of the survivor, and four sailorettes lowered the skiff and rowed out to meet him. As they struggled through the tall waves the water drenched them over and over, and by the time they got close enough to drag the sailor on board, their blue cotton uniforms were sticking to their bodies like wet-suits, their nipples all hard and stiff from the freezing water.
Even though he was chilled to the bone, half starved and completely exhausted from treading water for a day and a night, Ian McMillan actually noticed this as he was helped to safety. Trying not to shiver uncontrollably, he lay at the bottom of the dinghy, curled into a ball, his head surrounded by barnacled hemp rope and jars of whale oil. Ian was naked from the waste up, having used his shirt as a signal flag in the hopes he'd be seen, and was muscled and tan from a life at sea, while his tattered pants still clung to him, accenting his muscular legs and heavy package, whose size was apparently unaffected by the cold water or the life threatening situation.
The four women rowed back to the ship and managed to get Ian onboard, where he was toweled off, and brought before their Captain. Kesha noted his short cropped hair and smooth skin. He had only the hint of a beard, and he looked like someone who might have word spectacles. His hands were unblemished and without any calluses. Obviously not a deck hand, yet his tan indicated he'd been at sea for some time. Most interesting. As he lay there, completely limp on the deck, Kesha began to interrogate him.
"What is your name and rank, sailor?" Kesha towered over him, taking in every detail of his demeanor.
Ian could barely catch his breath. "Thank you, thank you so much for saving me. I'm Ian McMillan, sir. Of the Royal Bounty, late of Bombay. I was the ship's doctor."
"I see. And what happened to your ship?"
"I don’t know. Whatever its fate was, my situation had no bearing on it. I was thrown overboard."
Kesha's eyes narrowed. She now scanned his face for signs of deception. "And what, then caused you to be thrown overboard?"
Ian gulped visibly and tried to meet her gaze, but couldn't. The shame of it was just too much. "I . . . I was the attendant physician to Captain Cole's daughter who was traveling with us for educational purposes. I . . . we committed an indiscretion, and the only solution I could think of was to flee the ship in a lifeboat. Before I could do so, however, the night watchman caught me, and threw me over with out a moments thought. I'd be dead if you hadn't found me."
Kesha's eyes now went cold. "You may have wished for an easier death than we have in store for you. Neither I, nor my crew look kindly on rapists."
Now Ian's eyes became wide, "No no, I swear it wasn't rape! Please!"
Anwen slapped him hard in the mouth. "Quiet, dog! Never raise your voice to the Captain!" Then the First Mate smiled cruelly. "Listen up, girls, we have a deserter and a rapist here. I think we should administer a little maritime justice, don't you? String him up!!!"
"What are you going to do to me?" asked Ian in a panic as he was dragged away.
Anwen smiled sweetly at him, "Why, we're going to burst your testicles, of course, and then we're going to use your manhood as fish-bate."
All the women cheered, and all of them were ready for some fun. Sailing was sometimes a rather dull occupation, and a bit of emasculation would go a far way in providing some entertainment. A fair few of the women had taken off their shirts to work more efficiently, and their naked breasts were slick with sea water and sweat. Soft pink and tan arms grabbed Ian roughly and pulled him to the main deck, and they began to cruelly rip off what little modesty was still clinging to him.
Soon he was naked, his sleek body framing an extremely ample penis and two low hanging jewels. They too glistened in the morning sun. Then he was hoisted up and his arms and legs tied off so that he hung in mid-air, his body completely immobilized, and his naked genitals hanging down, ready for destruction.
Ian began to blubber and beg for mercy. After facing the dark blue abyss of the sea, he now had to contend with imminent castration at the hands of the British Navy's sexiest shipping crew. Anwen punched his low-hanging nuts as hard as she could to shut him up. "We'll have none of that, Doctor." He coughed, and she turned around.
"OK, girls, You each get four go's at this scab's hanging fruit. Then we'll rotate back around. The first girl to crush one of his nuts get's to hang his dick as bait! Captain, would you like to give the go-ahead?"
"Undisputedly, but I want you to leave his smashed testicles intact, I have something special in store for them. Carry on." Although she gave no indication of it, Kesha was already getting moist between the legs - it had been months since her crew had emasculated a pathetic male and right now she was extremely horny.
"Line up, girls! Ok . . . go!"
The first girl, probably no more than 17 years old walked up to Ian, looked him straight in the eyes. He thought she looked so innocent and sweet until she jammed her knee between his open legs four times. Ian choked on his own spittle. It hurt so bad. Then the next female walked up. She was older, with heavy eyelids, enormous breasts and raven colored hair. She grabbed his junk with one hand, and began to punch it with the other. She tried four times to make her two fists meet, his testicles squashed between them and warping around her knuckles.
The next woman sized him up first, watched him hanging there, bedraggled, and too weak to defend himself, and then slammed her foot as hard as she could straight into his nuts. His rubbery genitals flopped around like a fish in a pail. They were already bruised and starting to swell, but of course, this was just the beginning. For an hour, while the huge ship rocked and pitched, the entire crew took turns tormenting the poor doctor's tackle. No mercy was shown and no quarter given. His testicles slowly grew to the size of cantaloupes while his mind slowly deteriorated until he was just a drooling, twitching mass of muscle.
Meanwhile, Captain Kesha had become so aroused by the spectacle, that she had Anwen perform her customary duty, as first officer, and service her. The redhead eagerly buried her face deep between Kesha's legs, and her little pink tongue was furiously darting this way and that, bringing her superior officer off multiple times. This made the other women horny, and made each even more determined to crush one of Ian's balls.
Finally, Juline, the youngest of the bunch, probably no older than 13, jammed her delicate, bony knee between his legs hard enough to burst one of the overripe organs, and everyone could see the ball split at its seams. Ian's cry of pain was drowned out by the noise of the sea, but they could all see his eyes rolling in their sockets. She reached out and groped his busted nut to make sure she'd half neutered him. It was always amazing to her to feel a man's livelihood squishing between her fingers and know the dirty man could do nothing about it. Amazingly, this was the 34th time little Juline had done this to a man since she joined up, and she never got bored of it!
Gayle, a sturdy lesbian type, who loved to punish prisoners of war shouted, "Way to go, Juline! Let me do the other." Everyone let her through and watched her strip off all of her cloths. She was going to do this Amazon style, luscious breasts hanging against her stomach, naked bush dripping juices on the deck.
Kesha watched all through the haze of her endless orgasms. Anwen knew her duty and kept her chin and lips buried in her Captains silky snatch, savoring the combined smell of the sea and flowery crotch scent that filled her nostrils – Kesha was not only a high ranking member of the Admiralty, but a true lady and even in the middle of a battle was always perfectly groomed and smelled beautiful.
Now, Gayle assessed the loser male before her, and prepared to do battle with his remaining oval of masculinity. She started with a dozen uppercuts to the bloated bollock. It warped around her first each time. She watched with satisfaction as a line of drool fell from Ian’s slack mouth. It wouldn’t burst yet, though, so she pulled the ball down as far as it would go in his sack and squeezed it for all she was worth. She could get her fingers to go into it most of the way but instead of bursting it just sort of squished around inside its inner sheath. Even though his ball was putting up a lot of resistance to all the punishment, as a medical man Ian knew it couldn’t take much more, and what little was left of his hopes to remain a man evaporated.
Gayle let go of the ball and turned sideways to him, and began to jam her elbow into his groin, the still whole testicle (and it's ruined brother) bouncing backwards with each thrust and slapping against his naked buttocks. It was a perfect staccato to the slapping sound of the bow of the ship hitting the water. All Ian could do was moan, now just hoping it would end soon. Little did he know how much worse it was going to get.
Gayle finally decided the only way to pop the doctor’s tough testis was to kick it. She lay down under his stretched legs, on her back, and with careful aim, began kicking it up into his pelvis with her shapely foot, being sure to catch the hapless egg with her hard heel. Over and over she pounded his bollock with everything she had, while her two hands masturbated her own quinny as fast and as furious as she was kicking.
Larger and larger the testicle got until it filled the whole scrotum like a huge pink bubble, and all the women could see its contents quiver with each blow. There was no doubt now that it was going to burst soon and probably make some thrilling sound when it did. Everyone held their breath, and when the misshapen thing did finally burst under her foot, which happened right in the middle of a kick, it made a sweetest, wettest popping sound you could ever imagine, like someone stepping on a ripe melon. It was loud enough to even hear above the sound of the waves, and Gayle, along with all the women present, instantly came when it burst, moaning in her own personal paradise just like the rest of them. That just left poor Ian, who was now nearly comatose, gurgling in abject pain.
Finally, after more mind-bending orgasms than she could count, Captain Kesha stood up (letting Anwen rest her tongue and catch her breath), and announced. "Enough! Tie up those broken balls and get him hard." The crew knew what to do. They were all well-versed in torturing men.
One girl got a rope and tied off his broken balls to that they resembled their former whole selves, then two of the other girls began to lick and take turns sucking on his slick cock, sucking it all the way until it rose to a magnificent 9 inches. No wonder the Captain’s daughter had seen fit to break her chastity for it. They kept sucking on it, and as is true of men, despite the ungodly pain he was in, his libido didn’t know when to stop and Ian began to leak cum; cum that was just as salty and sweet as the seawater they were all drenched in, and which coated the small pink tongues of the two girls. What he didn't see was the female sailor behind him, holding a glowing red-hot knife. When Ian's dick was at its fullest, standing proudly at full mast, and while he was thinking that this was his last chance at happiness, the two soft wet mouths disappeared, and his dick's executioner materialized in front of him. One hand grabbed his pulsing member, and the other one sliced downward, lopping off the great penis in one go and cauterizing it so that it stayed whole. If the loss of his balls was an exercise in pain, this development was one of pure shock.
Ian started to scream in terrified surprise, over and over and over. All the women just laughed at his predicament. But what happened next was even worse. Kesha whispered something into Anwen's ear. Then next thing Ian saw was Juline preparing a fishing buoy, which after waving his severed member coyly at him, attached it to a hanging line, and lowered into the ocean. Then, while one rope line was held by a sailorette, another took a length of fishing wire, attached an enormous hook to it, and approached Ian with it. Ian couldn't even imagine what they were going to do to him now, and feebly shook his head in protestation. "Oh no, oh no," he moaned.
"Oh, yes, yes," said a 19 year old brunette nodding and smiling. She cupped his bloated ball sack, aimed the hook carefully and then plunged it right through both tied up testicles. It was painful beyond reckoning. Then she whispered in his ear in a seductive voice, "Your penis will surely catch one fish, maybe your ball's will catch a second." She let go, and as the buoy drifted out over the side of the boat, it pulled the fishing line taught, and his scrotum pulled out behind him from between his legs. Farther and farther it pulled, the neck of his scrotum starting to look like a leather cord as the hook pulled it farther and father away from his body. And then, as the ship made a particularly violent lurch through the crest of a wave, the hook ripped his balls off his body, and they slid into the sea to dangle in the water along with his dick.
Several hours later, as the Captain sat down in her private galley to enjoy dinner with her officers, she noted how large and succulent the meal looked.
"Yes," she said, "Privates catch the best fish, but a doctor will do in a pinch." Everyone laughed at the double entendre, and tucked into their food with gusto and . . . it really was a delicious meal.