17 September, 1995

   The Jagged coastline suffered the pounding of each wave; the ocean was a
churning, swirling mass of strength.  From up in his lighthouse, Marc
watched in frustration as the boat ignored his beacon's warning and
ploughed on, straight for the jutting rocks which made his private cove
impossible to swim in.  There was nothing to do but wait, until the storm
blew itself out and he could get to the remains of this 17th century "ocean
cruiser".

   He rose early the next morning, greeted by a flat, gray, cheerless sky.
Yet the worst of the storm was gone.

   He scrambled his way down the stairs he had cut into the cliff, the only
way to reach the tiny stretch of sand laying at the foot of the cliff.

   Yes, the boat, or what was left, lay floating on the now calm sea, with
a massive part of the hull lying entrenched on the beach.  Among the debris
he spotted several floating bodies.  He was sure none were still alive but
he had to check.  He waded into the water forcing himself to plunge through
its iciness until every body had been recovered.  He was just about
finished with this arduous task, when he noticed some pink cloth lying
limply between two of the larger boulders of the cove.  He worked his way
over to it, surprised to discover that a woman was wrapped in the cloth.

   He checked her pulse and was shocked to feel it beating every so faintly
beneath the skin.  He managed to gently pull her from between the boulders
and carried her to the beach.  He sat her down and debated what to do next;
build a fire here for warmth or carry her up to his lodgings in the light
house.  Upon consideration of the weather he gathered her up, laying her
over his left shoulder, and proceeded up the stairs.  After 45 minutes of
such labor, with a few pauses to rest, he finally reached the lighthouse.

   He laid her down in front of the fire, placing her gently on his bear
skin rug.  He surveyed what he now considered a girl.  She was near death.
All he could do was to restore some warmth into her frozen body.

   He scooped her up and carried her limp body to his small bedroom.  He
remover her wet clothes revealing a soft, slender, and badly bruised form.
These were not the marks of a body tossed about in a shipwreck.  Her wrists
were badly bruised as were her ankles and there were markings of a whip
across her back and legs, and even her abdomen and small breasts.  No,
someone or someone's had done this to her.  He puzzled over this long into
the night as he lay beside her in his big mahogany bed.  The body warmth of
two would be more beneficial than if he let her lay alone.  So were the
justifications to himself.  In fact he very much desired to hold this young
auburn haired woman and caress her bruises away.  Yet he made no move to
touch her.

   He rose late the next morning and was surprised to find himself alone in
the bed.  He jumped up quickly, scrambling into his trousers so he might
search for the girl.  He didn't need to go far, for he found her asleep,
wrapped in a quilt from the linen chest.

   on the bear skin in front of the fire.  He kneeled down and gently woke
her.  She came about slowly, blinking back the sleep.  He had never seen
eyes so blue before.  He asked if she was hungry and she realized that
indeed she was starving.  He cooked up some sausage and eggs, adding
oatmeal to appease this ravenous wench.

   When she had finished, looking quite satisfied and rather sexy, he
thought, in her quilt, he questioned her.  He learned that she was a
prisoner on the ship, her own ship had been overtaken and sunk by the
"filthy" pirates who had stolen her.  Her parents had been killed in the
attack.  Other girls had been taken also but they had given in too easily
and after their "use" they had been thrown overboard.

   She fought them all the way and they hadn't bothered her too much until
the final "whore" had been disposed of.  Then she bad been brutally
attacked.  They stripped her and tied her hands and feet.  Then began the
taunts and threats and whippings.  It had stopped only when the Captain put
and end to her torture.  He promised her safety if she would sleep with him
alone.  Here the girl broke down and wept bitterly.  He held her close and
listened as she admitted consenting to the Captains request.  She poured
out all the awful details in which she had been seduced, sometimes, more
often raped by this awful man.

   17 September, 1995

   Marcus S.  Lowry

   PSC 560, Box 151

   APO AP 96376

   Below is a letter for Penthouse Forum.  Please print it in Penthouse
magazine not Forum magazine.  Also, please let me know what issue it will
appear in.



   She clung to him as she finished her tale, the quilt sliding lower and
lower until her bare breasts lay against his warm skin.

   He could not pass judgment on her.  She had survived the only way she
could and was so soft and vulnerable and desirable.  He tried to ignore the
pressure of her hard nipples against his skin.  It was too much, especially
after her story.  He could take her too, so easily.  He didn't want it this
way.  She would have to come to him, and she would.

   He pushed her away as he rose.  He prepared the water so she could
bathe. He sat in the bedroom , giving her privacy and himself time to think
as she finished her bath in the kitchen near the stove.  She dressed in one
of his shirts he had provided for her.  He also learned her name was Julia
and she was 24.  He thought she looked about 18.

   The rest of the day passed uneventfully.  He tended his duties at the
lighthouse and she kept warm by the fire.  That night he slept on the rug
by the fire leaving her the bed.  She said nothing about this except a
quiet goodnight.

   Sometime during the night when reality is mixed with dreams he awoke to
feel her body pressed closely against his.  She had come to him out of
fright and lust.  She was nudging against him with a purpose and he
realized this as she settled her warm, naked body on top of him.  He would
not bypass this offering.

   He rolled her over onto her back and gazed into her face.  In a soft
voice she asked "Will you please love me tonight, just for a little while?"
A deep, intimate kiss was his only answer.

   He wound his finger in her hair and kissed her with such passion and
desire she felt dizzy.  He left her mouth after a while to explore her
body. He kissed her collar bone, and shoulder, and the valley between her
breasts.  He caressed her nipples with his hands and finally he took one in
his mouth.  She arched her back and moaned tugging his hair so he wouldn't
stop.  He moved over to satisfy the other nipple.  She thought it was
ecstasy.

   Still lower he went, kissing the whip marks on her abdomen, tummy and
the front of her thighs.  Then he did so gently what no man had ever done
to her before.  He buried his face between her thighs, smelling her moist
odor and kissing her wet pussy.  What he was doing was making her wild.  It
felt too good, his tongue licking her and then, oh god, his finger inside
her.  She tried to slide away but he held her tightly, his arms wrapped
around her, his hands gripping the cheeks of her bottom holding her against
his face.  Then she reached the point of no turning back.  She had to go
on, moaning and wiggling until she felt it.  Wave after wave washed over
her, pulsing inside of her, taking her breath away.  Then it was over and
he was sliding up her body.  She begged him to take her and as he slid into
her wetness she greedily licked her own cum off his lips.  Oh, this man was
so much better.  She had not known it could be this good.  He was pumping
and thrusting into her and she could feel herself starting to cum again. 
She clutched him with her body, digging into his back as he fucked her hard
and made her moan.  She climaxed.  She could feel him cum inside her.  Hot
liquid being pumped into her.

   They rested, he lay his head into her neck and she caressed his hair. 
Nothing was said between them.

   Things continued like this for a few days, then it was determined
between them that she should stay on as his "maid", doing housework in
return for food and shelter.  As for the nights; neither one complained
about how their nights were spent or their free time, or those days when a
beach picnic came about.

   
