Introduction

 

Dateline Athens: A yacht owned by American billionaire Charles Pennington which had been on an extended cruise in the Greek islands is missing and feared lost. The Atlantic Wanderer, a 90-foot ship with a crew of six, is believed to have sunk with all hands in the Aegean Sea, after an unexpected and powerful gale swept through the eastern Mediterranean Sea on Tuesday. Missing along with the vessel's crew, are Mr. Pennington's daughters Alex, 18 and Caroline, 20 and their chaperone Miss Karen Andrews. A spokesman for Greek Sea Rescue stated that search efforts would continue, but held out little hope that any survivors would be found. Mr. Pennington's daughters were on a pleasure trip through Europe when tragedy struck...

(From the Associated Press wire service)

 

Chapter One

 

"Wake up, Miss Pennington," said the annoying voice. The voice was accompanied by an even more annoying shaking. It had been difficult enough for Caroline to get to sleep in the first place, with the crazy rocking of the ship and the howling wind. It felt to her as if she had just dropped off a minute ago, and now someone was trying to wake her up.

"Go 'way," she mumbled, trying to get away from the persistent hand that continued to grip her shoulder.

"You have to get up right now, ma'am. It's an emergency. The ship is in trouble." the voice insisted. The urgency in the speaker's tone finally penetrated the fog of sleep surrounding Caroline. "Hurry, I don't think there's much time."

Caroline sat up, rubbing her eyes, suddenly awake. "What...what's going on?" she asked, still a little disoriented. She looked up to see Johnny... Something...she couldn't remember his last name at the moment ..., the junior member of the crew. His eyes were wide and his face looked unnaturally pale in the lamplight. It was plain to see that he was terrified.

"I think..." Johnny began, then hesitated, and gulped. "...I think the ship may be going down, Miss Pennington. We need to get out of here and up on deck right away."

This last statement brought the slender blonde to full alertness. She stood up suddenly, and trying not to allow the panic she felt show in her voice, said, "All right, Johnny. I'll get dressed and join you up there in a minute."

As she spoke, there was a loud creaking sound, followed by an even louder sound of wooden beams splintering. The cabin tilted suddenly to one side, hurling every loose object on her dressing table down to smash on the floor, and throwing Johnny and Caroline against a bulkhead.

"There's no time for that!" Johnny shouted. He seized her wrist, and pulled the girl, who was dressed only in a thin silk nightgown, out into the corridor and up the main stairs to the deck.

Outside, conditions were even worse than she had imagined. The ship was canted over at a steep angle to port, and huge waves were crashing over the starboard bow, sweeping everything that was not firmly tied down into the sea. As she watched helplessly, Caroline saw Captain Thomas carried, screaming for help, into the watery darkness.

At least, it looked like he was screaming: the howling of the wind was so loud she could not even hear Johnny, who was standing right next to her, his mouth moving as if he was bellowing something at the top of his lungs.

Clinging desperately to a handrail were her sister Alex and their chaperone/tutor Ms. Andrews. Alex looked like a contestant in a spring break competition in Ft. Lauderdale; the long men's t-shirt that she habitually slept in was soaked through, clinging to the soft curves of her hips and legs, and outlining her nipples, which were stiffened by the wet and cold. Her short dark hair was plastered across her forehead.

Miss Andrews' clothes were also soaked through, although the soggy flannel pajamas she wore were far less revealing than Alex's thin garb, or Caroline's nightgown, for that matter. The elder Pennington daughter might as well have been naked for all the coverage the transparent silk gown provided. The garment had become saturated with sea spray the moment she emerged from below decks, and had molded itself to her breasts, abdomen, legs and buttocks.

Caroline was not thinking about her modesty at the moment. She was concentrating body and soul on staying alive. It was all she could do to hang on to the rope that she held clenched in a death grip.

Johnny nudged Caroline's shoulder to get her attention, pointed toward the far side of the yacht and then at himself. He waited for the wind to drop a little, then made a dash across the deck to where the lifeboat swayed crazily back and forth on its davit.

Thinking back on it later, Caroline never understood what Johnny had intended to do if he had reached the boat. It would have been nearly impossible for him to lower the boat over the side in the terrible conditions, and none of the women would have been able to make their way across the deck to the boats without being swept over the side by the waves or the wind.

It turned out not to matter what he was thinking, because a mountain of water landed on him as he slid across the deck, and when the wave was gone, so was Johnny. Her last hope had been snatched away by the storm.

There were more sounds of timbers snapping, and the ship lurched beneath her, almost throwing her to the deck. She wondered what it would be like to drown. It looked like she was about to find out.

Another great wall of water smashed into Caroline's face, coming close to ripping her free from her hold, and sending her to follow the Captain and Johnny. The next big one would do it, she thought.

But as she blinked the salt water out of her eyes, she was astonished to see a hand encased in a black glove appear gripping the port rail, followed by another. Then the head and torso of a man appeared as if by magic, climbing aboard the stricken yacht from the sea. The man was in a black rubber wetsuit. He wore a facemask, had a small respirator in his mouth and a small air tank strapped to his back. He was quickly joined on the ship by another, identically dressed figure. Both men had ropes coiled around their waists.

One of them touched Alex on her shoulder. She released her hold, and fell into her rescuer's arms. The man tied a rope under her arms, then carefully lifted her over the side of the ship and lowered her down to someone of whom Caroline could see only the arms.

Meanwhile, the other man was attempting to take Ms. Andrews off the yacht. He succeeded only after a considerable effort, as he was obliged to pry her fingers loose from the taffrail, which she was holding with hysterical strength.

The first man gestured for Caroline to come over to him from where she clung for dear life to the rope on the starboard side of the stricken yacht. At first, she was unable to force herself to let go. She was sure that if she did, the sea would take her, just as it had taken poor Johnny.

The ship shuddered under her again, as if it was trying to warn her that it was going down. Caroline took a deep breath, shut her eyes, and forced her fingers to open. At that exact instant another huge wave rose up over the starboard bow and flung her across the treacherously tilted deck. The next thing Caroline expected to feel was the wild sea around her, just before it swallowed her forever.

But when she opened her eyes, she found herself flush up against the chest of her black-clad rescuer. The man wrapped both arms around Caroline's waist and lifted her up over the rail as easily as if she had been a cotton doll. Another wet-suited man was waiting below on the deck of a submarine to receive her. The bow of the submarine, Caroline now saw, had punched a huge, jagged hole in the hull of the Pennington yacht below the waterline.

Before she had a chance to consider what this meant, she had been passed through the conning tower of the submarine and handed down a ladder like a piece of luggage, to crewman waiting inside.

A quick glance revealed her sister and Ms. Andrews sprawled on the metal deck of the vessel a few feet away. As Caroline watched, crewmen standing behind them tied their wrists, then their elbows tightly together. Protests by the two girls were cut short, when the men held up cloths to their mouths and noses. Alex and Andrews' eyes rolled up into their heads, their knees buckled, and they collapsed into the arms of their rescuers, or rather, Caroline realized, their captors.

"What..." Caroline began, before a strange-smelling wad of cotton was thrust in her face. She tried not to breathe, but in a few seconds she was forced to inhale the fumes. As she disappeared below the surface of the dark sea of unconsciousness, she was distantly aware of someone tying her arms together behind her back. Her last thought was that she had not escaped drowning after all. Then the blackness took her and she knew nothing more.

 

Chapter Two

 

Alex, Caroline Pennington and Karen Andrews lay face up on the stone floor where they had been deposited. They were in a high ceilinged hall which had been carved the interior of a mountain. Over the unconscious bodies of the three women stood a tall man in a business suit and three sailors dressed in uniforms consisting of blue t-shirts and khaki trousers. One of the sailors wore a black-brimmed white naval cap which bore a gold anchor in front, signifying his rank of captain.

"Well done, Marko," said the tall man to the captain of the submarine which had taken the women from the stricken Atlantic Wanderer. "You brought me my two prizes and a bonus as well. I don't suppose there's a chance any of the crew survived."

"No sir, Mr. Stern, nobody could have survived in the water in that storm," the muscular sailor replied. "And we made sure of the yacht, too. We didn't leave until we saw it go to the bottom."

"Excellent work, as usual, Marko. I want you to tell the whole crew I said so. As a reward, I'm going to give them a special bonus." Stern smiled. "You remember the two Italian models you picked up for me last year?"

Marko nodded. "Do I? They were just about the most beautiful bitches I ever saw."

"I am going to send them to your quarters. I want you and the crew to have them tonight," Stern said. "I trained them myself, and I can promise you that they will do whatever you fellows want. If they don't give you their complete cooperation, just let me know, and I will have a word with them, and after that, they'll show you exactly how cooperative they can be. Just try not to get carried away, and damage them, OK? Now go relax and have a few beers, and I'll have them delivered to your quarters after dinner, okay?"

"Thank you sir!" Marko exclaimed. He gathered up his crew by eye and left the reception hall.

Stern pulled a small black cube from his pocket and pushed the button on it. A bell rang in the distance, and almost immediately servants dressed in blue suits with gold piping appeared.

He inclined his head at the three still forms lying at his feet. "I want my guests revived and brought to main reception in exactly one hour," Stern ordered.

One of the servants had brought a small flatbed cart. The men picked up the sleeping women, deposited them unceremoniously on the cart, and wheeled them away, as if they had routinely been doing this kind of work for years. In fact, they had.

The main reception room was very different from the great stone entry hall. It was the size of the living room of a large house, and was furnished with comfortable sofas, chairs, and low tables, all handmade leather and light wood in Scandinavian Modern style.

Alex, Caroline and Ms. Andrews were led into the room by three of the blue-clad servants. They were still dressed in the clothes they had been wearing when they were taken from their ship and their arms were still bound painfully behind their backs. They could not speak, as their mouths were filled with ball gags, nor they could see anything, as their heads were covered with brown burlap bags.

Stern was relaxing on a sofa, reading a history of Rome when his "guests" were brought in. As soon as he saw them, he rose to his feet, and motioned the servants to bring the helpless girls over to him. He admired the bodies of the Pennington sisters in their skimpy garb, but shook his head at the unflattering pajamas worn by Ms. Andrews.

"I'm sure you would like to know where you are, and why you have been brought here," Stern told his captives in a pleasant baritone. "In due time I will tell you something of these things, perhaps, but for now, I do not wish to answer questions or hear you speak, unless it is to answer my questions. What I do want, and will expect, is obedience. Do you understand me?"

All three captive girls tried to talk at once. This was futile, as the gags ensured that they produced only nonsense noises. Stern slapped the one nearest to him, who happened to be Alex, hard across the face. She emitted a muffled scream as she fell to the ground.

Then he drove his fist deep into Caroline's solar plexus. The slender blonde folded in the middle like a carpenter's ruler and dropped to her knees, making retching noises.

Lastly, he slipped one of his big hands under the bag covering Ms. Andrews' head, wrapped it around her long neck and began to squeeze.

"As I said," he continued in the same mild, conversational tones as before, his grip on Andrews' throat tightening, "I want you to be silent, unless I ask you a question. Do you understand, Ms. Andrews?"

Andrews, growing short on oxygen, nodded urgently, and he released his hold on her neck. She gasped in relief.

Stern placed his shoe on the side of Alex's head as the girl lay sprawled on the carpet at his feet. As he pressed down, he asked, "Do you understand, Alex Pennington?" She whimpered and nodded her head.

Caroline was still on her knees, bent double as she desperately fought to make her respiratory system start functioning again. "And you, Caroline Pennington," Stern said. He kicked her in the ribs so that she fell over to lie curled in a ball beside her sister. "Do you understand what is expected of you?"

She nodded weakly. Her body shuddered as she managed to draw in some air.

"Good," said Stern. "Then we are all on the same page."

Stern motioned to his servants, indicating that they were to pull the captives to their feet, and then ordered them to be untied.

"Do not attempt to take the bags off your heads or the gags out of your mouths," he cautioned. It was by now unnecessary for him to explain in detail what would happen if they did.

The three women shook their arms and rubbed their hands to restore circulation to limbs that had been bound for hours. Then they stood waiting for their captor's next command.

"Now, I want you to strip for me," Stern said. "Once you have your clothes off, you will hold your hands behind your backs and remain in place." The girls hesitated for a split second. Stern snapped "Do it now!" in a voice harsher than any they had heard so far. They hastened to obey.

Caroline's silk nightgown had three buttons closing the neck. She opened the buttons, then slid the garment down over her shoulders and let it drop in a gauzy pile on the ground at her feet. Stern greedily eyed her magnificent nude form.

Caroline had superb breasts, which stood proudly away from her body and were capped by long pink nipples that seemed to cry out to be handled. Her waist was narrow; her buttocks flawless ovals with just the slightest layer of padding, her legs long and lovely. The lips of her sex pouted like a teasing little mouth, enhanced by the golden strands of hair on her mound. Not even the two Italian fashion models Stern had kidnapped the year before had better bodies than Caroline.

Alex was also beautiful, but was physically unlike Caroline in almost every other way. This was not surprising, since she had been adopted by Charles Pennington when she was an infant, and was not related by blood to him, Caroline or her step-mother, Katherine.

Alex was blessed with the ideal physique for her sport, gymnastics. Her body was short, compact, and powerful. Her physical condition was outstanding; other than her breasts, there was not soft spot on her body. When she made even the slightest movement, Stern could see the play of her muscles beneath her tanned skin. Her breasts were small, conical and childlike. They pointed invitingly upwards and appeared to be unusually firm. Stern could not look at the girl's mounds without imagining how they would bounce under his whip.

Alex had shaved her pubis, as many gymnasts did, to keep the hairs from becoming a nuisance when she was wearing a scanty competition leotard. Altogether, she looked four or five years younger than her actual age of eighteen. Stern found her hairlessness and the way the rosy lips of her bare vulva were slightly parted as if in invitation, very exciting. It was difficult for him to control the urge to throw this delightful little creature to the ground and take her then and there.

Karen Andrews was taller than either of her charges. She had a very fine body, with full breasts, a flat stomach and a round, firm bottom that looked to Stern as if it had been designed for spanking. Her hourglass shape and long, smooth legs were superior in some ways to Caroline's. The delicate flesh of her inner thighs in particular cried out to be stroked, whether with a hand or a riding crop. Stern intended to try both.

He moved close to Caroline, until she could feel his breath on her cheek through the bag over her head. She shivered in fear.

"Don't move or I will hurt you," he whispered in her ear. She nodded her head to indicate her compliance.

Stern took her breasts in his hands, holding them from below, as if he was weighing them. Caroline's skin was as soft as satin, and her breasts were warm and heavy in his hands, causing his cock to stand at attention. He flicked her nipples with his thumbs a half-dozen times, and was gratified to see them grow erect.

"You like that, do you?" Stern murmured in her ear. "I wouldn't have guessed a purebred WASP like you would be such a hot slut, Caroline." He captured her nipples in his fingers, twirling and squeezing them until she moaned softly.

He reached down between her legs, and she flinched a little when his fingers touched the lips of her pussy. "Don't move, bitch," he hissed, and Caroline quickly subsided, returning to her position, and remaining motionless even when Stern's fingers spread her labia and invaded her slot. He was pleased, if not surprised, to find that she was already well lubricated.