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From: "Peregrinf" <dfowler@catskill.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} CONCRETE BOOTS (M/F M+/F F/F cons bond exhib rape anal drown snuff)
Date: Fri, 18 Jan 2002 19:10:03 -0500
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CONCRETE BOOTS (M/F M+/F F/F cons bond exhib rape anal drown
snuff)


WARNING: This story is not related to my series about Carl and
Beth naked in school. It is a story of consensual bondage, rape,
sodomy, drowning and death. It was inspired by one brief sentence
at the end of one of Laura Lynn Davis's excellent stories, but it
does not employ any of her themes.  

HOW I WROTE THIS, AND HOW YOU MAY WANT TO READ IT: I found
alternating the viewpoint when writing in the first person an
intriguing challenge. One of the problems was maintaining
consistency. 

Using Microsoft Word for Windows 2000, I created a two column
table, placing the male protagonist's sections on the left and
the female's on the right. I worked back and forth between them,
chapter by chapter, as it were. Sometimes I finished an entire
section for one character before writing the other character's
experiences, at other times I found myself jumping back and forth
in mid-section. 

Unfortunately, Internet newsgroups can't really cope with such
sophistication. So, before posting this story I converted the
table back to text so it alternates, Dave, then Jenny, back to
Dave, etc. To read it as I wrote it, try creating a table using
your word processor and copying and pasting the sections back as
I originally created them. 

And finally, some interesting statistics: 

Men's free dive record 133 meters,. about 439 feet. 
Woman's free dive record 130 meters, about 427 feet.
Bahamas Trench: 4450 meters, 14,600 feet, about 2.75 miles. 


CONCRETE BOOTS by peregrinef (M/F M+/F F/F cons bond exhib rape
anal drown snuff)

DAVE I
I was sweating by the time I levered the first shovel full of
concrete into the galvanized washtub. You try mixing concrete by
hand in the hot sun sometime. 
Once I had a couple of inches spread evenly over the bottom I was
glad to take a break. "Okay, step in," I told my wife. 
Taking my hand, Jenny gingerly stepped into the wide pail,
reaching also for the port bow stay as she did. The tub sat up on
sheet of plywood, with casters under it. I'd locked the wheels so
they wouldn't roll until we wanted it to. 
She giggled. "It's cold!" She wiggled her toes and a little crept
up between them, gray and thick against her pink skin. "Feels
weird, like tapioca pudding!" 
I was mopping the sweat off. "You sure you want to do this?" The
boat rode easily at our private dock, the channel placid in the
morning calm. 
Jenny grasped the starboard stay as well, arms spread wide as she
faced the bow of our cruiser, her blue eyes sparkling. "More than
anything!" 
She looked at the way my jutting hardon was trying to rupture my
Speedo. There wasn't any doubt how my libido felt about it - my
stiff cock was evidence enough of that, no matter what my brain
was thinking, or my heart feeling. "And you want it, too, don't
you?" 
"I don't want to lose you," I insisted. God she was beautiful, a
petite blond, barely five feet tall, a hundred pounds of sexual
high explosive, her shiny black bikini hugging her girlish tits
and tight little pussy. 
"But you do want to see me die," she answered breathlessly. 
No! I said to myself. "Yeah," I admitted reluctantly. 
"Do it!" she insisted. "Do it now, before I lose my nerve." 
I bent to scoop up another shovel of concrete and add it to the
basin. "You can change your mind right up until the last
minute...." 
She shook her head, her short blond locks flicking around her
smooth, soft cheeks. "No. Once it sets, I can't. I won't.
Besides, how would you explain it?" 
I had to admit, if I had to ask someone to chisel her out it
would be pretty hard to explain how she'd gotten her feet set in
tub of concrete. 
I levered another shovel of concrete into the basin. The gray
slurry moved up on her feet. I was doing it gently so I didn't
bruise her with the heavy, gravel laden mix. She'd set her feet
about shoulder width apart, and I eased the next load between
them, careful not to bump her with the shovel. 
It was slow, but, shovel full by shovel full, the level rose,
covering her dainty toes. Bit by bit it crept up - her insteps -
next her ankles, then her shins. 
She was breathing hard, looking down as the gray mass slowly
engulfed her legs. I stopped and wiped the sweat off, giving her
a chance to drag her feet out before it got too deep, but she
just straightened, holding on to the stays, her lips parted in
that way they had when she was sexually aroused. 

JENNY I
My mouth was dry and my pussy was wet as I watched Dave mix the
concrete in the wheelbarrow on the bow of our boat. Even this
early in the morning the sun was hot, and he was sweating, his
muscles bulging as he had carefully stirred the mix. I swallowed
hard when he ladled the first shovel full into the washtub. 
It hadn't been easy to find one of the old, galvanized washtubs -
everyone makes them of plastic these days, it seems. Finally we
found one in a building supply place. It was perfect, wide enough
I could spread my feet, deep enough that the concrete would come
almost to my knees if he filled it to the brim. 
When he had about two inches covering the bottom, he invited me
to step in. 
It was the point of no return. I was trembling as I lifted my
foot. His hand was warm and firm in mine, but I gripped the stay
to steady myself as well, and eased my foot down on the lumpy
mess, giggling from the sudden chill. It felt like - oh, I don't
know - maybe thick, heavy tapioca pudding is the best comparison.
It was slimy, and lumpy, of course - we were using a good gravel
mix. It was like stepping in mud that had little rocks in it to
bruise the bottom of your feet. 
My pussy wept at the thought of what was to come. 
"You sure you want to do this?" he asked me. 
Oh God! Did I? Did I! I grabbed the starboard stay, spreading my
arms as if I were being crucified. "More than anything!" 
I saw his erection, like a pole - no, more like an eager animal
trying to tunnel out of his swim suit to get at me. There was a
wet spot at the tip. "And you want it, too, don't you?" 
"I don't want to lose you," he said, and his eyes told me he was
speaking the truth. But so was his cock, and it wanted something
else. 
"But you do want to see me die." My chest was tight as I said it.

"Yeah." He squeezed the word out. 
"Do it!" Oh God I was scared and excited. "Do it NOW, before I
lose my nerve." 
He shoveled more concrete in around my feet. He was so sweet as
he tried to avoid hurting me. 
As he shoveled he tried to talk me out of it, but I refused. We'd
planned this for months. No, I would not go back on it. I'd had
the fantasy since I'd read some trashy crime novel - swimming in
concrete boots, they'd called it as the bad guys had prepared to
dispose of the girl who was going to rat them out before the
Grand Jury. 
Then there'd been that film, a gangster movie. After raping the
woman they'd set her feet in concrete and dropped her over the
side of a launch, into that dark, cold harbor, and the camera had
followed her down, her hair rising above her as if trying to
follow the bubbles from her mouth, while she struggled against
the weight relentlessly dragging her down. 
I felt the weight of the concrete as it slowly covered my feet,
heavy and thick. 
David paused and I looked out beyond him at the water, hornier
than I think I'd ever been. Soon, soon, I told myself. I was
wracked by a mini-orgasm at just the thought of what lay ahead
for me. 

DAVE II
The concrete covered her feet now. Where it had slopped up and
dropped back it left a gray coating on her skin that dried in the
hot sun. I'd have to add water, sprinkle it for it to set right.
Soon the wheel barrow I'd mixed it in would be down enough I
could tilt it and pour what was left into the tub. 
She asked me to tie her wrists to the stays, as we'd planned, so
she'd be helpless. 
"Helpless it is," I agreed, sinking the shovel into the
wheelbarrow and getting the short lengths of rope. She'd cut them
to length herself, even whipping the ends so they wouldn't fray.
"Tight it is," I agreed, pulling her arm up the stay. I
carefully wrapped the rope to trap her wrist against the cable.
Afraid she'd cut her skin on the wires, I added a turn of rope as
a cushion between her and the cable. 
I tried not to think about what I was doing as I bound her other
wrist. I loved her. But I hated her for what she was driving me
to do to - no, not "to" but with her. We were in this together. 
She was strained, her arms tight, breasts drawn up, her belly
flat, and I could see how her feet threatened to suck up out of
the concrete. Finishing the tying, I tried lifting the handles of
the heavy wheelbarrow and found I could get it off the deck. 
Careful to get it over the tub, I tilted and watched the concrete
slide in around Jenny's legs. I heard her gasp as the mass of
cement, water and gravel engulfed her almost to her knees.
Awkwardly, I scraped the last out of the wheelbarrow and used the
shovel to smooth it in the tub, careful not to cut her legs with
the blade. 
It was done. I stepped back and looked at her, drawn tight by the
stays, her body gleaming in the hot sun. Her beautiful face was
shiny with sweat, and a few drops trickled down her sides from
her armpits, down between her breasts cupped in the black
triangles of her bra top, her nipples obviously stiff with
arousal beneath the shiny Lycra molded to her firm tits.
God she was beautiful! Unable to resist it, I touched her cheek,
toyed with her ear as she tilted her head against my touch before
I let my hand stroke her neck, feeling her racing pulse. 
All I could think of was how much I loved her, that I loved her
enough to grant her this last, mortal wish. Turning away, I
blinked back tears. I knew nothing I said or did could change her
mind. Her fate was set in stone - or, in this case, concrete. 
Squatting down, I used my finger to trace a big heart in the
slowly hardening cement. I wrote our initials in it, hers above
mine, and scratched an arrow through the heart, adding the date
beneath it. 

JENNY II
The concrete was almost up to my ankles now. I wiggled my toes,
feeling it slurp around and between them. Soon I wouldn't be able
to wiggle them. 
But I wanted something more. I asked him to tie my hands to the
stays. "I told you, I want to be helpless." 
I watched him get the ropes, making sure he picked the right
ones. I'd measured carefully, tried them out, carefully wrapped
the ends in fine cord so they wouldn't fray, just like a sailor
would have done it. "Tight," I reminded him. 
He pulled my arm up tight so my wrist was high up, my arm
straight, and then lashed it to the stay. The stainless steel
cable was cold and rough against my wrist. If I struggled I'd
probably tear my wrist open on it. Then he put a turn of rope
between my skin and the cable and I smiled at him in gratitude. 
Stretching my other arm out, he repeated the process, drawing me
up tight, just as we'd measured and planned. I was "bar tight" as
a sailor would say about a line under heavy load. I could barely
wriggle, but I had to be careful. My feet weren't buried deeply
enough in the concrete to really anchor them yet. 
"I'm about to pull out," I warned him. "Better finish the
concrete." 
His muscles bulged, those muscles I so loved to run my hands
over. I'd probably never get to do that again, I realized with a
shock, the reality of what was coming suddenly hitting me. The
thought made me shiver as he tilted the wheelbarrow, a thick wave
of concrete slopping into the tub. 
If I hadn't been anchored to the stays I might have been knocked
off balance by the sudden weight. As it was it felt as if some
heavy load had pushed against my shins, pressed down on my feet.
I felt it compact more around my toes as he smoothed the cement
down in the tub, then stepped back. 
I was hot. The sweat running down my body tickled. I hoped the
others would be here soon so we could get underway. Once we got
moving the breeze of our motion would cool me off. 
I could see the love and desire in his eyes as he studied me. He
touched my cheek and I leaned my face against his caress,
thrilling to his touch. He toyed with my ear and my horniness
blazed up. He stroked the side of my neck. 
Oh how I loved him, that he'd do this for me!
I saw him cry for me. Before he turned away I saw his eyes brim
with tears of love and loss. But not even that could change my
mind. 
He knelt at my feet, and I looked down along my straining body as
he drew a heart in the concrete, put our initials in it, an arrow
through it, and dated it. 
Tears leaked down my own cheeks at the sight of it. 

DAVE III
I ran the silken blindfold through my hands as I came up behind
Jenny. I had to duck under her arm to get in front of her. As I
brought the blindfold up, I saw the fear in her eyes, and halted
as she begged me to wait, reminding her it was what she wanted. 
"I know, and I do. Just give me a minute." 
I waited. I saw the love for me in her eyes as she looked at me,
and felt another turbulent surge of emotions - love and hate. She
knew I'd do anything for her, and that I was doing this proved
how much I loved her. She'd asked me to fulfill her final
fantasy, and I was, and I couldn't help hating her for it, and me
for my weakness. 
She looked around, past me, to our house on one side, the house
I'd built for her, then back to the channel to the ocean. Her
eyes were as blue as the sky she surveyed one last time. 
"All right," she said, and I brought the blindfold up. She closed
her eyes as I drew the black band across them. Awkwardly, I
reached behind her head to tie it in place. Then I carefully
adjusted it so she couldn't see anything. 
I saw her arms strain against the ropes, the muscles of her
beautiful legs testing the hardness of the concrete encasing her
feet and lower legs. For a moment I hesitated, then knelt to
carefully pack it back in, closing the tiny gap she'd opened
around her upper calves. Then I picked up the hose and wet down
the surface of the concrete again. 
Then I held her, awkwardly because of the tub of concrete.
Finally I had to break away. 
"The others will be here soon," I told her. 
"How many?" 
"Six," I answered. I'd had to choose carefully among our friends.
We didn't want anyone squeamish, no one with any reservations. 
I saw her gulp. Was it too many? But it was too late to change it
now. She didn't know who they were, which of our friends would
want to see her die.  
"Any women?" 
"One man is bringing a date, another his wife. I've got to go
greet them. Don't go away," I managed to joke. 
"I love you!" she suddenly called, almost desperately, and I went
back to her, stroked her tenderly. 
"I love you, too." I felt a pang, because I knew, unless she
changed her mind, those would be the last words I heard from her.
We'd agreed, all she needed to do after this moment was speak a
word, any word, and it would stop. 
I prayed she would, though I was sure she wouldn't break her
silence ever. She was that strong. 
I tried to adjust my aching cock so it wouldn't show as I made my
way through the house to let our guests in. 

JENNY III
"Wait!" I pleaded as Dave raised the black silk blindfold toward
my eyes. 
"It's what you wanted," he reminded me. 
My heart was racing. "I know, and I do. Just give me a minute." 
I feasted my eyes on him. I could see the pain in his eyes. That
he loved me enough to do this for me only made my love for him
greater. He was kind, and handsome and thoughtful. 
I looked around, too, beyond him, trying to store up the
memories. Our house on the water, the beauty of the hot Florida
sky, the sandy beaches with their palm trees and the blue, blue
water. These memories would have to sustain me, since this would
be the last time I saw my darling husband, and all the rest. 
"All right," I said softly. I closed my eyes as he brought the
black band over them. I felt him tying it at the back of my head,
adjusting the front to cut off the last sliver of light so I
could see nothing. 
I shivered, tugging against the ropes binding my wrists to the
stays. I could barely wiggle my legs in the slowly hardening
concrete. Dave must have knelt then, because I felt him carefully
pressing the concrete firmly against my calves. I must have
opened a gap with my testing, and I promised myself I'd not do it
again. 
He sprayed the concrete then, so it would harden better he'd told
me. The water from the hose was cold on my naked legs. Then we
shared a few private moments in each other's arms. 
"How many?" I asked when he told me the others would be arriving
soon. Thank God, I thought, we'd finally be getting underway. 
I shivered when he answered "six." So many. But enough. "Any
women?" 
Six men, one date and one wife? There'd be women here to see, to
watch. Would they understand? 
Would any of them follow my example someday in the future? Or
perhaps they'd use a different means, with the same end in mind.
"I'm sure I'll be right here when you get back," I answered him
when he jokingly asked me to wait there while he went to greet
them. 
"I love you!" I said desperately at the last moment. 
He came back, touched me gently. "I love you, too."
He knew that was the last time I'd speak, unless I wanted to call
this off. One word more and I'd be saved, that's all it would
take. I knew it wouldn't happen. 
The weight of the concrete around my feet was all too real now,
too solid. 

DAVE IV
Once clear of the channel I pushed the throttles forward and the
cruiser lifted, began to plane over the glassy sea, pitching
gently from wave to wave, the twin diesels making it's frame
quiver with their throaty roar. There was only a slight swell, no
wind, with a calm, clear forecast for the next week. Long enough.
More than long enough for the round trip all of us but Jenny
would make. 
I couldn't help looking down on her below me on the deck, her
feet now locked in the cold, gray tub of concrete, her arms
spread wide, tied to the stays. The wind of our passage blowing
her hair back in streamers like spun gold, her only covering the
black blindfold and shiny black bikini that clung to her curves.
It was time for the bikini to go. My mouth went dry at the
thought, even as my cock regained the thrust it had lost during
the tedious passage out to the open sea. 
Setting the autopilot, I went below, to the stern. "Anyone want
to play with the lady?" I asked. "She's over dressed, and
probably needs a good coating of this, too." 
I tossed them the bottle of sun screen, and went back to my
piloting. 
Back up on the flying bridge, I took control of the boat again,
looking down on our guests as they gathered around Jenny. I knew
Jenny wouldn't talk now, that she'd take whatever came now
without complaint, without saying a word. 
Oh, she'd probably moan some, perhaps scream before it was over,
but she wouldn't talk. I knew how stubborn she could be. 
Charlie, a buff blond guy, pinched her ass and I saw her flinch.
Then John, a wiry guy with curly black hair untied her top and
the little scraps over her tits were drawn away. Her breasts
gleamed very white in the sun - she'd never been one for nude
sunbathing. Mike looked like he wanted to rape her already, and
Mike's girl licked her lips at the sight of Jenny's firm tits,
her sharp, pink nipples. 
John untied Jenny's bikini bottoms next as someone opened the
suntan lotion. He drew off Jenny's last bit of covering. I could
only see the firm cheeks of her ass from my angle, but I knew the
others could see her pussy with its delicate, light red bush. 
Jenny's ass cheeks flexed, and my hands tightened on the wheel. I
ached to be down there with them, but this was my penance for now
- just to watch. 
John said something, and let the little scraps of Jenny's bikini
flutter over the side. I watched as they were swirled around by
the bow wave and quickly left behind. 
She wouldn't need it again anyway, I thought with a pang. 
The eight of them shared the sunscreen around, began fondling
her, stroking her, squeezing her breasts, her ass, coating her
naked flesh. I saw her squirm against the ropes binding her
wrists, the stays actually flexing a little, her leg muscles
straining against the now hard concrete. 
They were careful, thorough, but who wouldn't have been, given
that lovely body so totally at their mercy? Mike's hand must have
found her pussy, because I saw Jenny's ass tighten, saw her try
to spread her legs and hump her cunt. She tilted her head to the
side, turned her face upwards, as if trying to see me through her
blindfold, her lips parted with passion. 
I couldn't hear what they were saying over the engine noise, but
I could guess. One of the women was clinging to her date, hugging
his arm to her tits, pressing his knuckles into her crotch as she
watched him pinch Jenny's tits with his other hand. 
The woman who'd been holding her date's arm released it after
saying something, and I watched her strip off her own bikini.
Then they were all getting naked. The men were rampantly erect. 
Mike wasted no time in somehow getting his cock up into her. I
knew he'd wanted her for years. I saw Jenny flinch as he filled
her with one thrust. Setting the autopilot again for a moment, I
stripped off my own bathing suit, then steered with one hand as I
stroked my hardon with the other, watching my wife being raped. 
It was, I told myself, what she wanted. And it was only
beginning. The woman who'd had her date's knuckles in her cunt
drew him aside, backed against the rail, and made him take her
there, squealing her joy as he hammered his cock into her. I was
afraid for a moment he'd push her overboard with his thrusts, but
she held on to him and he wrapped his arms around her, drawing
her away, lowering her to the deck so he could really ram her
safely. 
My own cock erupted, heavy blobs of cum spattering the deck, and
still the orgy went on below on the foredeck. Charlie replaced
Mike, thrusting into Jenny like a madman. Her head tossed, and I
heard her cries even over the motors. 
I was seeing a different Jenny now -- wanton and slutty. It was
as if she were making up for all the years of church going and
rectitude before she died. 
Oh, she'd been a great lover, but we'd been monogamous, and she a
virgin when I'd married her. We'd experimented with positions,
she'd become a superb cock sucker, and relished it when I'd gone
down on her. We'd made love outdoors in the yard, and once in the
kitchen, even. 
But we'd been totally faithful to each other, and now all that
was being thrown away in one final wanton orgy. She'd ordered it
up, and I'd delivered it. 
I hated myself for that, I hated her for wanting it. I hated
myself for enjoying her degradation so much, knowing that later,
while the boat rode at anchor, I'd join them and we'd all take
her again. 
I loved her so much I couldn't deny her final wishes. 
I watched as Mimi sucked a river of cum from Jenny, and wished it
were me instead drinking other men's cum from my lovely wife. 
Then the men each took one more turn at her before returning to
the stern, leaving Jenny dripping with sweat and cum, sagging
wearly from her bound wrists. 
That evening we anchored in the lee of one of the hundreds of
small cays in the northern Bahamas. While the others set out a
picnic dinner from their coolers, I went forward with a bottle of
water for Jenny. 
She was resting as well as she could, obviously exhausted. Cum
had dried crusty on her pussy and down the insides of her thighs,
but the blindfold was still in place. 
"I brought you some water," I greeted her tenderly, hoping she'd
talk to me, that we could call this off. 
She didn't, of course, only making sucking motions with her sweet
lips. I held the bottle to her sucking mouth and let her drink
her fill. When she was done I used the rest of the water to wash
down her pussy and thighs. 
Then I went back to the others. 
"How is she?" Darlene asked. She was the one who'd gotten screwed
to the deck earlier. 
"Not about to quit," I answered. 
"Maybe we can change her mind after supper," Mike said. I didn't
like his grin, or the way he said it.

JENNY IV
I felt the boat surge forward under me as it accelerated, felt it
lift. There was only a slight pitch on the gentle seas. The wind
dried the sweat on me as I stood, helplessly spread on the
foredeck. 
I knew Dave could see me from the flying bridge where he piloted.
What must I look like to him - a pagan sacrifice perhaps? Was
that what I was? A sacrifice to my wanton lusts? 
I thought of what was to come next, and shivered. In moments I'd
be naked and helpless, totally vulnerable, aboard a boat with six
- no, seven men - and presumably some women, but women who would,
at best, leave me to my fate, but were more likely to join in my
torment and final extinction. 
Two days more, I thought, only two days. I concentrated on the
sensations - the sun and wind on my body, the sound and vibration
of the boat, the smell of the sea. 
I heard them coming, talking and laughing nervously as they made
their way past the cabin to the foredeck. They saw me and the
conversation faded. I felt them duck under my arms as they
surrounded me. 
"My God, she's really going to do it," one of the women
commented. 
"Yeah, but she's over dressed," one of the men noted. 
Someone pinched me and I flinched, as much as my bindings
allowed, but didn't complain. I was a spy, caught by the enemy.
I'd never talk. 
Someone untied the strap holding my bikini top up and I felt the
cups loosen. The tie around my back went next, and I heard
someone gasp admiringly as my tits felt the sun strike them, the
breeze drying the sweat as my nipples stiffened even more. 
I couldn't help shift my head, listening, wandering what would be
next. 
"She's going to get a wicked sunburn if we don't do something for
her," one of the women pointed out. Was that Mimi? I put the idea
out of my head, not wanting to know which of my friends was here
to watch me die. 
Someone untied the bottom of my bikini and pulled it off. It
stuck to my wet pussy, and then I was naked to the wind and the
sun, their eyes, the eyes of any passing boats - were there any
passing boats? I had no way of knowing, but I was on display to
the whole world. 
"She won't need this again," a man said, and I knew he was
talking about my bikini, that he'd jettisoned it overboard. 
Oily hands touched me, stroked me - first one pair, then more,
until I was being massaged from neck to toe. Rough, calloused
hands were on my breasts one moment, then it was smaller,
feminine fingers massaging my breasts. Someone was cupping my
ass, fingers probing into the crack even as my lust soared. 
A hand slid down my stomach, fingers combing through my pubic
hair, curling under to explore the sodden folds of my pussy and I
tried to rise on my toes to get away from the invasion. 
But of course I couldn't. I was locked into the concrete now, my
feet, ankles, shins and calves encased in it. I could barely
squirm as they massaged sunscreen into my naked flesh. 
I whimpered as a finger probed my cunt and someone pinched my
nipples, first one then the other. 
"I've got as good a body as she does," one of the women grumbled,
and a man - her man? - dared her to prove it, and there was a
rustle of cloth. I knew the woman was getting naked. A man
grumbled about the heat and there were bumpings and jostlings -
were they all getting naked? 
Someone pressed his body against me - a man, he was hard and
hairy. I knew they'd find a way, even with me locked in the tub
of concrete. I'd kept my feet apart so they could. A cock found
my cunt and I moaned as it was driven up into me, filling me. 
There was no thought of my pleasure, of course, but I hadn't
expected it. Hadn't wanted it. He was rough, and harsh, ramming
up into me.
Before I could come I felt him shooting his cum into me, jerking
his cock up into me hard with every pulse. I almost screamed with
frustration. I was so close, so close, but I didn't orgasm and I
felt him pulling out, felt his semen ooze from my pussy. I wanted
to beg for another cock, but held my tongue. 
I didn't need to beg. Another man took me and I shuddered as he
rammed up into my sodden cunt. I heard moans and squeals and
realized that the women - were there two of them? - were
satisfying some of the men while the others used me.  
I began to cum as the second man unloaded into me, grunting
harshly, finally drawing a shuddering breath as he withdrew. Then
there was another, and another, and all I could do was stand
there and take it. My arms and shoulders ached as they raped me,
one after another, on the next to last day of my life. 
When they were done I was left limp and exhausted, practically
hanging from my wrists as their cum drooled out of my battered
pussy. 
"Oh, dussum's have an ouchy?" one of the women asked. I flinched
as she fingered my bruised pussy. "Would'ums like me to kiss it
and make it better. 
I shuddered. I'd never had a woman make love to me, even touch me
down there, but I was at her mercy. 
"Lucky for you," the woman went on, "I like sloppy seconds. I
loved watching my husband fuck you, and now I'm going to suck his
cum out of you, and I just bet you'll like it, you filthy slut."
I shook my head in denial, even as my body responded to the way
she was exploring my sodden twat. I was a cum slut, getting what
I deserved, and eventually I'd get my final reward. 
But not before I'd suffered every degradation they could inflict
on me. 
I whimpered as her tongue touched my steaming flesh. Her lips
closed on my pussy and she sucked on me, her jaw working as she
mouthed my swollen twat. She dug in deep, scooping the cum out of
me even as my cunt released wave after wave of my own juices to
mix with all the semen pouring from me. 
I wailed as yet another orgasm blazed through me. Then they left
me hanging weakly from the stays, laughing and  joking, as the
concrete slowly finished setting, gripping my legs and feet
tighter and tighter as afternoon wore on to evening. 
By the time we anchored I was totally drained, physically and
emotionally and carnally, the cum having dribbled down my thighs
and dried to an itchy crust. After a day in the sun and wind, I
was parched, so I roused when Dave brought me water. 
I knew he was going to try to break my silence. But that would
have been sign that I didn't want to go through with this. He
should have known better than to even try. I made sucking motions
with my dry lips and he sighed and brought the water bottle to my
mouth so I could suck from its nipple. 
Then he squirted my cunt and thighs down with the rest, making me
squirm, reminding me again of my helpless exposure, the stream of
water stimulating my tender pussy. His hands stroked the insides
of my thighs in an effort to get the cum off. 
I loved his touch. He massaged my pussy, too, trying to get some
of the rest of the cum off of it, before walking away. 
I knew he'd be back. I knew they'd all be back. I shivered,
thinking of what they might do to me next. 
I was hungry, of course, but it didn't matter. I could go a
couple of days without food, and after that I'd never be hungry
again. 

DAVE V
I was trembling myself as we went forward in the darkness. The
full moon was a few degrees above the horizon, casting a glowing
path across the water, painting Jenny silver against the velvet
night. 
I shushed them as we passed the cabin and after a few more soft
murmurs and whispers we reached the foredeck and moved around
her. We surrounded her and just looked for a long, long time. 
She was so beautiful! Her naked skin was satin-finished silver
and velvet shadows in the moonlight. Her nipples were again stiff
with arousal, little dark berries capping the gentle mounds of
her breasts. Her chest rose and fell, her breathing quick and
nervous. 
She knew we were there. Her head was up, her head turning this
way and that, her nose seeming to test the air as she listened
for us. Her lips were parted slightly, the way they had parted
when I petted her before we made love. 
Unable to resist it any longer, I touched her cheek, steadied her
head, and brought my lips to hers. She kissed me hungrily, but I
held back, gentling her before letting the kiss grow harder, more
hungry. I slipped my tongue into her mouth and she sucked at me
eagerly. 
As I cupped the side of her head in my right hand, I touched her
side, her ribs with my left, and slid my hand up to capture the
soft, warm mound of her breast. My thumb toyed with her already
stiff nipple, and I felt her suck in a breath as the little
button stiffened even more. I pinched it as the others around me
moved in. 
They began to fondle her, soothing her, teasing her, arousing her
all at the same time. And as we distracted her with those
touches, John and Larry began loosening the ropes binding her to
the stays. 
I felt her tense, heard her whimper into my mouth as they brought
her arms down. Her shoulders must have been in agony after she'd
spent the day tied the way she had been. I broke the kiss and
tried to massage her shoulders a little. 
The brakes on the casters were released, and together we turned
the tub so Jenny faced the starboard rail. John and Larry guided
her hands. She was far from the rail, making her bend forward so
she could reach. 
Using the same ropes, they tied her hands to the varnished wood.
I stood back as Mike squeezed some lubricant on his fingers and
began oiling Jenny's asshole. My gut tightened, my cock hard as
steel as we prepared to violate Jenny's last virgin opening. He
added a second finger and I saw Jenny flinch, heard her moan
softly. 
She'd never let me in back there, never even let me put my finger
up her tail. It was the one opening she'd prohibited to me, but
now, unless she said something, she'd get it at last - in the
end. 
All she had to do was speak, say one word, and she knew I'd stop
whatever was going on and we'd return home and I'd somehow get
her out of that block of concrete. 
But she never said a thing. 
After adding a third finger, Mike withdrew them, and oiled up his
cock before handing the lotion to someone else. 
Then he set the head of his hardon at the dusky rosebud of her
asshole and began to drive it in. I watched as she resisted, and
then seemed to accept Mike's cock as it burrowed into her ass. 
Larry began fondling Jenny's tits, and I couldn't resist reaching
under her to feel he swampy cunt, to toy with her clit. Mike's
balls nudged my fingers and I knew he was full depth in her. 
Jenny was whimpering as he stroked his cock in her backside,
slowly at first, then faster, and she began to whine, trying to
drive herself back on him as best she could. 
She was enjoying it! 
Mike drove deep and unloaded into her ass with quick, hard
spasms, finally falling away. Before I could move, Charlie was
filling his place, filling Jenny's asshole with his big cock. 
 The ladies took over fondling Jenny, pinching her titties,
rubbing her clit, even sticking the fingers in her cunt as I
joined the rest of the men for my turn at butt. 
Finally it was my turn and I gripped her hips as I aimed my cock
into her well loosened anal passage, and slowly slid my cock into
the velvety dark passage so long denied to me. 
Somehow, I think she knew it was me. I reamed  her with long,
slow strokes, savoring the incomparable sensation of her clasping
flesh, marveling at how different it felt from her cunt. I curled
myself over her warm body, cupping one breast in my left hand
while with my right I sought her clit and cunt. I was vaguely
aware of the others standing back, giving us space, respecting my
union with her. 
I didn't bugger her. I just made love to her in a new way for us,
weeping myself as I took pleasure in her body, and tried to
pleasure her as she was pleasuring me. 
No matter how long it might have lasted, it wasn't long enough;
eventually I had to cum, filling her ass with powerful, hot
spurts until my groin was wrung dry and my cock shriveling.
Reluctantly I withdrew, stood up, releasing her with one final
caress of her beautiful ass. 
It was a while before I realized she was back up, tied once again
to the stays, and we were alone together. As the others sat
around in the stern recovering, I slipped down to the galley, got
a sponge and drew a bucket of warm, soapy water, and returned to
the bow. 
I took my time, laving every inch of her gently before rinsing
her with fresh, clean water, and to  hell with the dent it made
in our fresh water supply. 
When I was done, I kissed her tenderly, and left. Pausing to look
back at her standing alone in the moonlight, wondering, praying
that she might change her mind. 
But I knew in my heart she wouldn't. Tomorrow it would all end
for her. And I knew that I was looking forward to it. Not looking
forward to being rid of her, because I knew I would miss her
desperately. 
No. I was looking forward to it because some twisted, perverse
part of me wanted to watch her die. 

JENNY V
Later I heard them coming back of course, at dusk, their chatter
and laughter echoing over the silence of the ocean before Dave
shushed them. I steeled myself for the next ordeal, whatever it
was to be. 
There was no script. I was theirs to do with as they wished, of
course. For the first and last time of my life I was yielding
control totally to others. From being a control freak I had gone
to being a toy, a slave, a victim to be used and discarded. 
Their talk faded out to a few murmurs, then nothing. They
surrounded me silently, their feet shuffling on the deck. 
For a long time there was nothing. I could hear their breathing,
smell the liquor on their breath. How drunk were they? Drunk
enough to abandon all inhibitions? The thought gave me chills. 
I was desperately horny, breathing hard. I wanted to squirm my
thighs against each other, but couldn't, of course. I hungered
for a sound from them, a touch, anything, my tension building
until I was ready to scream. 
The first gentle touch was to my cheek, and I knew it was Dave.
Then his mouth closed over mine and I responded with a rush. He
drew back, though, controlling the kiss, only slowly responding
to my own desperate hunger, until finally we were feasting on
each other. 
Then, even as his one hand cupped the side of my head, his other
hand touched my naked side, slid up to cup my breast, his thumb
stroking the stiff, eager nubbin of my nipple. He pinched it and
I gasped through the kiss, our breaths mingling. 
Then I felt other hands on me, stroking teasing, patting. Someone
captured my other breast, hands stroked my ass, a finger
exploring the crack, another hand stroking my throbbing pussy. 
I was hardly aware of it when they began to unfasten my wrists.
But they didn't free me, only released the ropes, keeping a grip
on my arms as they lowered my arms. 
I whimpered at the pain in my shoulders as my arms were lowered.
I felt them turning me, and then let them draw my arms forward,
making me bend at the waist. I was afraid for a moment I'd fall
until I realized there was no way I could, the way my feet were
locked into the solid block of cement. 
They lashed my hands to the rail, ending my few, brief moments of
something resembling freedom. I was bent forward, presenting my
ass to them. 
Oh God, not that! I'd never been - been buggered - sodomized! It
was the one thing I'd never let Dave do to me. Oh God! Someone
was playing with my asshole! A finger slipped in and I realized
whoever it was was oiling me up, lubricating my ass so he could
drive his cock into me. 
A second finger penetrated me, stinging, stretching and I
couldn't avoid moaning. But it wasn't pain. Oh God, I was such a
whore! It felt good as he prepared to sodomize me - him and how
many of the others? Would Dave finally take me back there? 
A third finger stretched me further and they twisted in me before
withdrawing. 
There was a long, nerve wracking pause, and I felt something else
nuzzle my butt. The pressure grew, wedging my sphincter open. It
was painful until I learned to relax and push to open myself. 
It felt good. Oh, God forgive me, but it did feel good. Someone
began to fondle my breasts, and someone else my clit and my lust
soared once again and I tried to get him deeper, harder and
faster. 
They were all watching me, of course, watching my humiliating
degradation. I was naked on the bow of the boat, being buggered
while everyone watched and played with me. 
The man drove into me and I felt him cumming in my bowels and
whined as my own orgasm hovered just out of reach. My innards
spasmed, driving his swiftly shrinking penis out, leaving me
empty and ravenous for more. 
And someone else quickly took his place, taking advantage of my
slack sphincter to drive full depth into me with one brutal
thrust. He was bigger than the first man, stretching me more,
driving deeper, too. 
I bawled, as much from pain as from pleasure. Then there was
another one, and another and I wept for my last lost innocence,
almost lost in a haze of lust, until I was emptied, and then
filled back there once again, only there was something different
about this one - a gentleness even as he violated my most
intimate opening. 
Somehow I knew it was Dave, and new tears stung my blindfolded
eyes as his cock filled my bottom for the first and the last
time. I yielded to him with every fiber of my being. 
I felt him lean over me. His hand captured my dangling breast and
hugged to close to my chest, pinched and teased my aching nipple.
He found my pussy, his fingers tickling my clit to new heights of
pleasure, probing my sodden cunt. I was bathed in his love as he
pleasured me in the one way I had always denied him. 
He began to cum and my own orgasm soared through me. I wept this
time for denying him - us - this pleasure until now. 
Then he was done, easing out of me, backing away, and I was left
empty with a final, gentle caress of my butt. 
Then someone was untying my wrists again, standing me up, turning
me back to face the bow, and tying me once again to the stays, a
wave of cum draining from my ass as my abused sphincter tried to
close after being so strained.  
I felt everyone leave, and resigned myself to a long, cold,
lonely night, only to be surprised by someone's return a few
moments later, and the soothing touch of a warm, soapy sponge on
my arms, my face, my neck, moving down my body. I knew it had to
be Dave. 
He bathed me as if I were a baby, carefully washing away all the
evidence of my debauchery, front and back. Warm water spilled
down over me, warm sweet water, not salt, as he rinsed me off. 
He finished by giving me a kiss as soft as a feather before
disappearing to leave me with my thoughts. 
And thoughts I had, but not of breaking my silence. No, I was
committed and would not change my path. 
Rather, I was contemplating what tomorrow, the last day of my
life, would bring. I was looking forward to the final act, the
incredible coda I had composed for my existence. I hoped Dave
would be able to forgive me for putting him through this. 

DAVE VI
I got up before dawn - I hadn't really slept, none of us had -
the sky just beginning to lighten in the east, the stars slowly
fading as it did. I cleaned myself up, but didn't bother to
dress. Nor did any of the others as we ate and got ready to get
underway again. 
We didn't talk much. There was nothing to say, really. Climbing
up to the flying bridge, I fired up the motors, and Larry went
forward to raise the anchor. Once it was up I engaged the
transmission, eased the throttles forward, cranking the wheel to
turn us out to sea. A look at the chronometer assured me we
should be there in plenty of time. 
The boat picked up speed, rose to plane over the glassy morning
sea. I was glad the others remained below, left me alone here on
the flying bridge with my thoughts. They left Jenny alone, too,
on the foredeck, with her thoughts. 
I couldn't help wondering how she'd die. She was a strong
swimmer, fit and healthy, but with a hundred pounds of concrete
encasing her feet that was not a factor. She'd sink, dragged down
by that cruel ballast, whether she struggled or not, and I
doubted that she'd struggle because this was what she wanted. 
She might drown, but I knew how long she could hold her breath.
Would she sink slowly enough that that would be her end? She'd
open her mouth, the last bubbles of air would escape from her
lungs, and then she'd inhale, taking in water instead of air,
filling her lungs. 
She could even choose that. Was that what she wanted? We'd never
discussed it. Strange. All this planning and we'd never discussed
that. 
If she sank fast enough, though, and she chose to hold her
breath, that would not be what killed her. Instead it would be
the crushing pressure of the ocean on her body, a delicate,
graceful body designed for life at sea-level pressures. It would
bear in on her, more and more powerfully until something gave -
perhaps her ribs, or her skull? No, probably not her skull, if
she had her mouth open the pressure would equalize in her sinuses
at least. 
I shuddered at the thought of what the sea might do - WOULD do -
was GOING to do to her, and checked the compass heading,
correcting our course - we'd swung a bit to port, as if I had
unconsciously tried to turn aside. 
What was she thinking, I wondered? I looked down at her, once
again marveling at her beauty. Last night she had been all silver
in the moonlight. Today she was pink and tan and white and gold
in the morning sun, her blond hair blowing in the wind, the black
band of the blindfold a dramatic contrast to her shining tresses.

I saw her ass and thighs flex, saw her writhe against the ropes
that held her arms out. I wished I could see her face, wished I
could hold her in my arms, stroke her satin skin; wished I could
somehow talk her out of this, but knew that it was already too
late. 
With a sigh I clicked on the GPS system, watched it come to life,
watched the numbers appear, then. as the computer analyzed them,
the chart, a glowing dot to show me where we were, a cross where
we wanted to be. The time and distance to our destination came up
on the screen. 
Two more hours and then we'd be there. Only two more hours. 

JENNY VI
The night had seemed endless, but at last I felt the boat coming
to life around me. There were sounds in the head. The smell of
breakfast cooking made my mouth water, though I knew there'd
again be no food for me. 
The sun rose above the horizon - I felt its warmth on my naked
flesh. The motors coughed to life, and someone came forward,
slipped past me to raise the anchor. I felt the boat swing to
port and pick up speed, resuming its course toward my final
resting place, now only a few hours away. 
I felt the boat rise, felt the engines' vibration as they drove
us forward through the water. I was more intensely aware than
ever of every sensation - the wind of our passage on my naked
skin, rustling the hair on my head, and at my crotch. I was
grateful they left me alone as we sped along, as I contemplated
what was to come. 
I wondered what was going to kill me? I supposed that depended on
how fast I sank. I knew I could hold my breath for almost three
minutes. Dave had timed me as I'd clung to the bottom of the
ladder in the swimming pool. 
If I sank slowly, I'd drown when I could no longer go without
breathing. I knew the biology of the system, how the build up of
carbon dioxide would trigger a stronger and stronger urge to
breathe even though I was far below the surface. 
I could fight that. One of the dangers to free divers, who
descended without any breathing apparatus, was passing out from
lack of oxygen because they'd fought the breathing reflex too
successfully. 
I didn't want that. I wanted to be conscious when I died, to feel
death close in on me. I shivered, thinking how hard it would be
for me to not fight the reflex, to willingly take in that deep,
fatal draught of the ocean. 
How deep would I be in three minutes, though? Would it be deep
enough for the pressure to take me away? What would that be like,
to be squeezed in the ocean's embrace until it crushed the life
out of me. 
I shivered as I though of how it might feel - not the first time
I'd fantasized about it, but perhaps the last before I finally
experienced it for real. I'd feel it pressing in on me on all
sides, a cold, cruel embrace that squeezed my torso, my limbs, my
head, seeking a weak point. 
Would it seep into my pussy? Would I feel its cold fingers
slipping up into me, penetrating my cunt, my womb. 
Would the ocean rape me? 
My pussy softened and moistened at the thought. 
Or what about my anus? After last night it had to be weakened.
Would the sea pry its way into my gut, an icy seeping filling my
bowels?
Perhaps the pressure would simply seal those openings tighter. 
Or would it sneak in through both orifices, filling my abdomen,
squeezing and compacting my guts?  
Or would it simply crush me like a fist squeezing an egg,
shattering my bones, my ribs puncturing my lungs to let the air
escape in a gush of bloody bubbles. 
How long would it be before I found out? I turned my head,
smelling the salt air, as if somehow I would be able to tell
where we were in relation to that unmarked spot off the Bahamas
that would be my grave. 
Finally I let my mind relax and just felt and listened and
smelled and tasted, soaking up the sensation of being alive, and
nude, bound on the foredeck of a powerboat speeding me to my
death. 

DAVE VII
With one eye on the depth finder, another on the GPS display, I
throttled back, the boat slowing and settling down. 
I had the feeling the two instruments were almost superfluous.
The water under our keel had that incomparable shade of emerald
seemingly found only in the Bahamas shallows. But ahead, at our
destination, it changed abruptly to the dark, sapphire blue of
deep ocean. 
I saw Jenny stiffen, her head turning, seeking, though the
blindfold was still in place. Her fists knotted and she tested
the ropes yet again. Her breathing had quickened. 
The boat moved from the green water to the blue, and the depth
meter's display dropped off the scale. I switched the scale, and
still there was no bottom for it to find. 
Not surprising, really, considering. Here a deep ocean trench met
the plateau that was the foundation for the chain of islands
known as the Bahamas. The plateau's shallows ended in a cliff
that plunged thousands of feet. The ocean floor was quite
literally miles beneath us - or would be once we reached the
point marked on the GPS display. 
I throttled back some more, the engines barely burbling as we
drifted slowly forward. It was going to be a challenge to hold
our position. There was nothing here for our anchor to grab.
Well, if we drifted a few hundred yards one way or another it
would matter little anyway, I mused. There was no wind, so we
wouldn't drift far anyway. I cut back to an idle and swung us to
starboard to meet the current I suspected was there. 
I look at the GPS confirmed we were within feet of the spot. I
watched for a moment, but the position held as well as it was
going to. Securing the wheel, I turned and went down. 
"We're here," I announced unnecessarily. 
The others were somber. Even Mike was subdued as we made our way
forward. We were all nude, of course, and it was obvious what the
effect of this whole scenario was on the men. I was willing to
bet the women were wet in anticipation as well. 
I'd spelled out the plan to everyone the night before, given them
their assignments. As the women untied Jenny, Mike and I moved
the tilt board into place while John opened the section of
railing. 
"The blindfold stays on," I reminded the women as they release
Jenny and draped her arms around their shoulders. The other men
stooped around the tub holding Jenny's feet and unlocked the
casters. Pushing and pulling, they rolled to toward the ramp I'd
built just for this purpose. 
Jenny looked so beautiful, so vulnerable, helpless as they
wheeled her forward. I stopped them, cupped her face in my hands,
and felt her tilt her face against my touch in that loving way
she had. 
"You don't have to do this," I pointed out softly, my heart
twisting in my chest as I did. The only reaction I got was a
thinning of her lips in refusal. Say Something! I wanted to
scream at her, but I didn't. 
Instead I kissed her gently, and she kiss me back. Blinking back
tears, I helped them ease the little wheeled platform carrying
her tub up on to the ramp - the tilt board. 
"Which way to you want her facing?" Mike asked. 
"Out," I bit out shortly. "Outboard." 
I helped turn her and then joined the others pushing her forward.
We paused at the rail, the women and four of the men dropping
back. Mike, John and I checked to make sure the others had taken
their stance on the inboard end of the plank so it wouldn't
suddenly tilt and drop Jenny prematurely. 
Slowly and carefully we eased Jenny out beyond the railing, until
there was nothing but deep blue water beneath her. Grabbing the
tether I'd made, I snapped it to the screw eye on the little
platform so it wouldn't go overboard with her. 
I stepped back, and John and Mike joined the others at the
inboard end of the ramp. The board jutted out about four feet
over the ocean. I had a momentary mad urge to dash up to the
flying bridge and check the GPS. 
Instead I made a gesture, and the women stepped off the plank.
We'd calculated it carefully, Jenny and I, but what if we'd been
wrong? 
Another gesture and two of the men stepped off as well, leaving
four still counter-balancing the weight of Jenny and the tub of
concrete. Another gesture, and two more of them stepped off. 
A nod, and John and Mike carefully eased one foot each off the
plank, but kept their weight on it. They'd have to do the next
step carefully, or the end of the plank coming up might hit them.

"One," I counted. 
I saw Jenny's chest rise and fall. 
"Two." 
Again she inhaled deeply, and held it. 
"Three." As I said it, I saw her face twist with dismay, saw a
golden flood burst from her crotch to splatter down on the
concrete engulfing her calves. 

JENNY VII
I felt Dave cut to half speed, then less, the cruiser settling
quickly. My inertia carried me forward against the bindings
holding my wrists. 
Oh God! I realized we were almost there. My cunt gushed at the
thought, and I wished I hadn't had so much water to drink,
ashamed that I might pee myself at the last minute. 
I tested the ropes yet again, though why I didn't know. I didn't
want to be released from this, did I? Was it just some atavistic
survival instinct that made me test my bondage? What good would
it do, with my feet locked in concrete. 
For the thousandth time I wished I could scratch the itch on my
right ankle. I was breathing hard, I knew - quick, shuddering
breaths. My heart was almost fluttering, as if trying to flee
this body I was so soon going to discard. 
The engine sound dropped more, and I could almost visualize what
Dave was doing up there on the flying bridge. His strong hands
would guide the wheel with ease as he watched the GPS until our
dot merged with the X that marked the spot we'd chosen. 
Not that I'd ever know, but I hoped we'd hit just that spot, that
deep, deep water that would be my grave. I didn't want some
casual SCUBA diver coming across me. I wanted to be down there in
the dark. 
Oh God! I had so little time left! 
The boat rolled every so gently, and I began to sweat in the
tropical heat. The sun made my bare breasts sting, but sunburn
was no longer a concern. 
Dave throttled back to an idle, and I knew it was time. There was
a moment of giddiness and I realized we'd turned to port,
probably into the current, since there was no wind. 
I drew a deep breath. Another. 
I sensed them coming for me - their bare feet making the deck
creak, the boat heeling slightly with their weight as they passed
the cabin on the starboard side. Then they were around me. 
There were sounds of things being moved. Someone began to untie
my wrists, removing the ropes for the last time. I tried to let
my arms fall and it felt like someone was driving daggers into my
shoulders. Gentle hands gripped my arms and helped ease them down
until I was embracing smooth shoulders - the women, judging by
their small frames. 
Someone was working around the tub, and I wobbled as they shifted
it, and me. For a flickering instant I was distracted from what
was to come, but then it came back full force. This was it! I
felt them wheel me toward my doom. 
Then Dave's hands cupped my cheeks tenderly and I leaned into one
of them, savoring the warmth of his steadying grip on the pulse
in the side of my neck. 
Again he reminded me that all I had to do was say one word, any
word and this would stop. Oh God, for a moment I was tempted, but
I closed my mouth. His lips touched mine and we shared a final,
tender kiss. 
Releasing my face, he curled one strong arm around my naked ribs,
and I felt them lifting and shoving to get the tub bearing me on
to the ramp. 
I heard someone ask Dave which way I should be facing, and almost
answered, almost broke my silence, but bit it back at the last
moment. The sea, I thought, as if they could hear me. I want to
be looking toward the sea. 
"Out," Dave answered, and I could hear the tension in his voice.
"Outboard." 
The women eased out from under my arms, and I let my hands drop
to my sides, my fingers touching my bare hips. I was moved
forward some more. In my imagination I could see the open sea
ahead of me, a deep, dark blue. 
There was a vibration at my feet - Dave hooking up the tether, a
sense of shifting balances. 
I breathed deeply as little tremors ran through me, and my pussy
wept in anticipation. I was terrified, and unbelievably aroused.
There was a long pregnant silence. I could still speak, still
stop this. 
But I wasn't going to. I'd dreamed of this moment for too long.
We'd planned and schemed, figured all the details. A boating
trip, a tragic accident. Friends who were sworn to secrecy,
friends we knew we could trust had been invited to help. 
I tried to brace myself, wondering what was taking so long. For a
moment I thought I'd faint. Then I felt a faint tremor. There was
another tremor, and my fingers curled as if I wanted to grab for
something. 
There was another long pause. Then I heard Dave count, slowly. 
"One." 
I breathed deeply. 
"Two." 
Again. Already hyperventilated, I stoked my bloodstream with
still more oxygen. 
"Three." I sucked in my last breath, held it and, to my final
shame, unable to hold out any longer, my bladder released a flood
of pee just before the bottom dropped from under me and I was
falling. 

DAVE VIII
The inboard end of the plank shot up, the outboard dropped, and
Jenny fell from the end, dragged down by a hundred pounds of
concrete encasing her feet, her hair flying. The tub hit the
ocean with a hollow cracking sound, the plank slamming back down
on the deck with a clatter as the ocean closed over her in an
explosion of spray, ripping her blindfold away. 
For a few precious seconds I saw her sweet face, pale against the
ocean deeps, her hair swirling in a golden halo around her head,
graceful arms spread wide. 
She looked up at me, and I saw her mouth move, and I read her
lips. 
"I love you." 
Tears stung my eyes as she sank swiftly into the deep, shrinking,
fading, finally vanishing. In my mind's eye I saw her, falling,
falling, falling, her lovely hair streaming above her, her
delicate, vulnerable body pale in the darkness. 
In my imagination, a few bubbles escaped from her nose. A few
more as the ocean patiently tightened its grip on her. 
How far would she fall in three minutes? Perhaps she could hold
her breath longer, even, but could her body withstand the
pressure? I tore my mind away from the images threatening my
sanity. 
The blindfold bobbed on the surface, a black circle of silk, a
funeral wreath marking her grave. Grabbing a boathook, I fished
it out, a final, stark souvenir to remind me of her. Behind me I
could hear the two women and six men whold helped me - us - doing
their best to satisfy their morbid lusts. 
I waited at the rail, scanning the sea, thinking I might see some
final evidence, a few bubbles, but never did. Unavoidably, we'd
drifted away from where she'd gone in, and the ocean is wide and
deep, cold and uncaring, easily capable of erasing in minutes so
small and simple a thing as a human life. 
I could only imagine her long, long fall into the darkness.
Eventually the block of concrete would strike the bottom, kicking
up a brief burst of mud that would slowly clear, and there she'd
stand, her golden hair waving in the deep ocean currents. 

JENNY VIII
Hitting the water jolted me from my knees to my neck. The water
closed over me with a slap, tearing the blindfold away.
Desperately I looked up, into the sudden glare, and saw my
darling Dave looking down at me through the rippling waters.
There may have been others there, but he was the only one I saw,
and my heart went out to him. 
"I love you," I mouthed, and then he disappeared behind a swirl
of bubbles as the concrete sucked me downward, the keel of the
boat vanishing above me. 
The water swirled around me, tugging at my hair, insolently
stroking my body. It was colder than I expected, and destined to
get even colder as I fell deeper. 
The light faded swiftly, first to a deep blue, then darker. How
fast was I falling? How long had it been? I still had no urge to
breathe. 
Time slowed to a crawl. My pulse hammered in my ears, and I felt
the pressure growing, squeezing me tighter and tighter. My ears
hurt and I swallowed what little saliva I had, but it did no
good. It was almost black now, the last of the light almost
swallowed up. I looked up and could see only a faint lightening
of the gloom. 
Then I did feel the first faint need to breathe, and fought it. 
It grew inexorably stronger. My lungs began to burn, and still I
resisted, even as the pressure against my body grew greater and
greater, pressing against my breasts, my belly, my ribs,
squeezing me tighter and tighter. 
Chill threads of cold ocean water penetrated my cunt, my anus.
Just as I'd dreamed, the sea was raping me, ravishing me.
Reaching down, I fingered myself, setting my clit ablaze in the
icy darkness as I fell and fell, stroking myself toward one
final, glorious cumming. 
I held out as long as I could, against my orgasm, the pressure,
against the need to breathe, and then, finally yielded,
abandoning myself to my lust and to death, opening my mouth in a
final, climactic carnal scream, a burst of bubbles saluting the
ocean's inevitable victory, my soul soaring upwards to the light,
while my body sank into eternal darkness. 


-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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