Author: Connard Wellingham
Title: The Voyage
Part: complete
Summary: Aboard a yacht, Amanda undertakes a voyage of 
discovery.
Keywords: Mf, bdsm

The Voyage
By:  Connard Wellingham
(c) Connard Wellingham 2003

	This story contains what is known as 'adult 
content', ie sex.  Why one should be allowed to read 
about murder, torture, violence and killing but not 
sex is a mystery to me - but there you go, that's the 
way it is.  So if it is not legal for you to read about 
sex where you are, or you are deemed too young 
to read about sex or, you find stories about sex 
offensive - DO NOT READ THIS STORY.

	This story is fiction.  This story is FANTASY.  It 
is intended solely for your amusement and enjoyment.  
The author would not like to mislead the more gullible 
among you that the world really is as depicted here.  
Whether the world would be a better place if people did 
behave as they do in the story is a moot point.

	The author welcomes helpful comments and can be 
contacted at cwellingham@SoftHome.net.

Author's Note:  A kind reader suggested a boat journey 
for the residents of Greenwood Academy.  I suspect he 
had an image of young girls being tied to the mast and 
ravished - and that story may yet get written.  In the 
meantime this is what emerged.. .

-----

	The boat sliced through the calm blue waters, its 
prow making comforting gurgling sounds.  Amanda lay on 
the foredeck letting the sun soak into her skin.

	'How on earth,' she wondered idly, 'did I get into 
this?'

	Her bottom ached, her arms ached and her cunt 
ached 
after last night's session.  She shifted her position 
and winced as more muscles protested at the abuse they 
had received.  

	'Still,' she thought with a contented sigh, 'it 
isn't all bad.'

	She most definitely had that being well-fucked 
feeling - and the spanking had added a certain spice to 
the proceedings.  And, she was forced to add, although 
she'd been hurt, she hadn't actually been harmed.  In 
the time she had been on board, she had received no 
cuts, only minor bruises, suffered no broken bones and 
had not been forced to wear or do anything that could 
or would mar her looks.

	And, really, the life was quite relaxing.  
Certainly there were periods of intense activity; when 
the yacht came about, or the winds were unfavourable, 
for example.  Then everyone except Devlin would be 
frantically winding handles, pulling ropes and 
grappling with flapping canvas.  There had been many 
sore bottoms and not a few tears the first few days as 
Devlin and the other men taught the girls the rudiments 
of sailing by the simple means of applying a whip if 
they got it wrong.  Painful - but it had worked for 
they were now at least a moderately competent crew.  
And there were the domestic duties; cooking, cleaning 
and so on.  But, other than these, a modern yacht 
practically sailed itself.  And, of course, there was 
the sex but, she smiled to herself, she couldn't really 
complain about that.  Why, she must have cum three 
times last night alone.

	There were noises behind her and she lazily turned 
her head to see John, the mate, pulling a girl up the 
aft companionway.  Poor Jenny, she really did seem to 
have a problem.  She seemed to get more than her fair 
share of spankings.  There always seemed to be some 
misdemeanour for which she had to bend over and expose 
her bottom to receive the whip or the paddle.  Perhaps 
it was because she had such a deliciously spankable 
bottom.  And she always wailed so sexily.  'If I was a 
man," she thought idly, 'I'd want to spank and fuck 
Jenny all day long, too.  In fact, even though I'm not 
a man, I'd rather like to take a paddle to these full, 
round cheeks of hers and then, afterwards, kiss away 
the tears.'  The thought gave her a little inner glow 
and  butterflies in her tummy.

	Jenny was dragged to a short boom attached to the 
mast.  No sails were hoisted on this boom, it was 
reserved for recalcitrant girls.  Amanda, herself, had 
been suspended from it more than once.  Jenny's wrists 
were tied to the boom, a spreader bar was attached to 
her ankles and she was hoisted up until she was a good 
foot off the deck.  A hooter gave three short toots.  
Amanda clambered to her feet.  Three toots meant 'all 
hands on deck'.  Jenny must have really done something 
wrong.  She noticed that John did not have the large 
bulge in his shorts that he normally had when 
conducting a beating of this sort.  This must be very 
serious.

	The girls tumbled out of various hatchways and 
Gerry, the third man in the crew, sauntered up from the 
rear cabin.  Devlin was, as usual, at the helm.

	"Where's Tracy?" asked John when they had all 
assembled.

	"Cooking lunch," said Georgette.

	"She's excused then."  He looked around at the 
assembled crew, his face serious.  "I'm sorry to say we 
have a problem.  Just now I discovered Jenny trying to 
send a message on the radio.  You all know the radio is 
completely out-of-bounds.  And you know the penalty for 
tampering with it.  Jenny, I'm sorry to say,  refuses 
to say what she was doing  or who she was trying to 
contact. This is a most serious breach of discipline 
and I'm afraid it can't go unpunished."  

	'He looks genuinely upset about it,' thought 
Amanda in astonishment.  Up till now she had always 
thought the men were relatively indifferent to the 
effect their games had on the girls.

	"Jenny will receive 20 lashes across her body.  
There will be no restrictions except the face and the 
feet." 

	This drew a gasp from the assembled crew.  Amanda 
felt herself blanch.  Normally beatings were just to 
the bottom or, occasionally, the breasts.  She glanced 
up at the girl suspended above her.  Although the 
colour had drained from her face it remained set and 
defiant.

	"Normal rules will otherwise apply," John 
continued.  "No blood will be drawn, except 
accidentally, and no permanent damage will be 
inflicted.  Jenny, you know why you are here?"  The 
girl nodded.  "Will you tell me why you were using the 
radio?"

	A variety of emotions chased across the young 
girl's face; anger, fear, stubbornness.  "I... I can't, 
sir."

	"It will be less severe if you tell me, you know."  
John's voice was surprisingly gentle.

	"I know.  It's just that... I can't tell you.  I 
can't,"  she finished with a wail.

	John sighed.  "In which case I have no options but 
to give you the full 20 lashes.  Gerry will you keep 
count?"

	His partner nodded, equally grim.

	John picked up the short-handled whip with its 
three long strands.   Raising his arm he brought the 
strands whistling round.  They curled round the girl's 
body like thin black snakes and when they fell away, 
there were three red weals on her side and up one 
breast.  Time seemed to have stopped.  Even the wind 
and the waves seemed to have paused their ceaseless 
murmur. In the sudden silence Jenny screamed and 
Gerry's flat voice said, "One."

	His face a mask, John continued his awful task.  
With grave deliberation, ritual almost, he moved around 
the suspended girl, lashing her with the whip.  A rag 
doll in the wind, she danced to his tune of pain.  Her 
screams became continuous until she could scream no 
more and were all the more terrible for being silent.  
And through it all came Gerry's flat voice, counting 
the deadly strokes.

	The audience watched, caught up in the spell of 
this dire ritual.  Afraid, almost, to breath in case 
they upset some deadly balance.  There was a thump 
beside Amanda.  Suzie, the youngest of them, had 
fainted.  Amanda made to help her.

	"Leave her."

	The last stroke fell.  Jenny's body, from shoulder 
to knees was criss-crossed with angry red weals.  A 
drop of blood trickled slowly, almost apologetically, 
from one of them.  John dropped the whip on the deck 
and strode off without a backward glance.  

	"Amanda.  Georgette.  Help me with Jenny.  Rachel 
attend  to Suzie," Gerry ordered.

	Slowly and tenderly, they freed Jenny from her 
bonds and carried her limp form down to the sick bay.  
Gerry opened the medicine cabinet and the three applied 
salves and dressings to the girl's damaged skin.

	"Stay with her," Gerry ordered.

-----

	Throughout the long day Amanda and Georgette 
stayed with the suffering girl.  They held her hands 
and bathed her brow as she slipped in and out of a 
feverish, fitful sleep.  At one point she sat bolt 
upright, eyes wide and gripped Amanda's hand tightly.

	"Oh, Amanda, I hate it.  I've got to get out.  
I've got to.  Promise me you'll help me.  Promise."

	"It's all right, darling.  I'll help you, I 
promise," said Amanda soothingly, knowing she was lying 
and hating herself for it.  Inside she knew there is no 
possible escape from a small boat in the middle of the 
ocean - except the ultimate one.

	Jenny searched her face with desperate eyes.  
Amanda tied to meet her gaze calmly.  Seemingly 
satisfied with what she saw, Jenny fell back and slept 
again.

	Several hours - a lifetime - later, Gerry 
appeared.  "How is she?"

	"Sleeping more peacefully," Georgette said.

	"Good."

	Taking care to disturb the sleeping girl as little 
as possible, he examined her wounds, applied more salve 
and pronounced himself satisfied.

	"You've done well," he said.  "Send Tracy and 
Rachel along then get something to eat."

	As if on cue, the pair suddenly realised that they 
were tired and hungry, their muscles cramped from 
sitting in the same position for so long.

	"Yes, sir," they chorused and gratefully slipped 
away.

-------

	Utterly exhausted and emotionally drained, Amanda 
took to her bunk immediately after eating.  Despite her 
exhaustion, sleep would not come. Images passed through 
her mind in a continuous cycle - Jenny's face as the 
first blow fell, John's haunted gaze, the red weals 
that sprung up on Jenny's skin wherever the lash 
landed, Jenny's plea for help.  Round and round they 
went like demented rats until, to get some peace from 
them, she rose and crept to the galley to make some 
cocoa.

	For a long time she sat, the cocoa slowly cooling, 
untouched, in the mug.  To an observer, she would have 
appeared to be sitting quietly but inside the thoughts 
tumbled and roiled like a maelstrom.

	At last she came to a decision and rose to her 
feet.  She noted the cup of cold cocoa with surprise, 
not even having been aware of making it.  Down the 
narrow corridor towards the stern she stole on 
faltering feet.

	There was a faint strip of light showing under the 
door.  Very carefully, she pressed her ear to the 
panelling and listened.  Faint noises came from within.  
Summoning up every ounce of courage she possessed, she 
tapped on the door.  A chair scraped and the door 
opened.

	"Amanda," Devlin said with surprise.

	"I'm really sorry to disturb you, sir.  I know 
it's very late but I must speak to you."

	"You'd better come in then."

	He stood aside to let her slip into the cabin.  
She stood, blinking in the light as he seated himself.  
Leaning back he steepled his finger over his chest and 
regarded her.

	"Now, what's so important that you need to speak 
to me in the middle of the night."

	"It's Jenny, sir.  I'm very worried about her."  
He frowned so she hurried on.  "I don't think she's at 
all happy here, sir."

	He sat forward abruptly.  "Did she tell you that?"

	"Yes, sir."

	"Is that why she was trying to use the radio."

	"I guess so."

	"And did she say who she was trying to contact?"

	"No, sir, but she was sort of delirious after... 
after... anyway she was sort of muttering and mumbling 
and then, all of a sudden, she said quite clearly that 
she had to get off the boat.  That she wasn't coping 
with it all."

	He regarded her directly, frowning thoughtfully 
and tapping the tips of his fingers together.

	"Hmmm.  This is serious.  You did right in coming 
to see me.  Did she say how she plans to escape?"

	"No, sir.  She wasn't really... together if you 
know 
what I mean." 
	"We can't have a discontented member of the crew.  
Did she say why she was unhappy?  Has she given any 
indication in the past of how she felt?"

	"No, sir, nothing."  Taking a deep breath, Amanda 
plunged ahead.  "But, if you'll forgive me for saying 
so, sir, you do tend to pick on her.  She does seem to 
get more than her fair share of attention."

	"What do you mean?"

	"I may be speaking out of turn, sir, but it 
appears to us, the other girls that is, that Jenny gets 
more beatings than us and more, er, fucking."

	"So are you suggesting that you should get more 
beatings or Jenny less?"

	Amanda was stung.  "Neither, sir.  It's not my 
place to decide who gets whipped and when.  I was 
merely trying to give a possible reason for Jenny's 
unhappiness."

	He gave her a little nod of acknowledgement.  "So 
you think we pick on Jenny more than you.  Perhaps she 
deserves more than you."

	Amanda shrugged.  "Possibly, sir.  But there may 
be other reasons."

	"Careful, Amanda.  You are verging on insolence."  
His tone was sharp.  "What other reason could there 
be?"

	"I don't know, sir."  Then a little imp made her 
add.  "Perhaps it's because she has a very attractive 
bottom."

	He gave a shout of sudden laughter. "You've 
noticed, have you?"

	Amanda blushed and studied the floor.  "Yes, sir.  
I have to say I've sometimes thought about it myself."

	"About spanking her bottom?" 

	"Yes, sir."

	"Well, well.  You're full of surprises Amanda." 

	He sat back and regarded her downcast head 
thoughtfully for a long moment.  His chair creaked as 
he stood and she looked up quickly.  He tilted her chin 
so she was looking directly into his eyes.

	"You've given me much to think about.  You have 
done
 your duty well in telling me about Jenny.  But..." his 
hand 
was caressing her shoulder, his eyes gazing 
hypnotically 
into hers.  "...suggesting that I might be favouring 
Jenny in preference to you - that is going to far." He 
was stroking her arm now.
	Amanda found she was trembling.  "Jenny does, 
indeed, 
have a bottom that begs to be spanked but so, for that 
matter, 
do you.  For your insolence I think a paddling is 
required."

	"Oh, sir," Amanda gasped.  "Please..."  But even 
she 
wasn't certain if she meant 'please, no' or 'please, 
yes'.

	"Take off your clothes and bend over the desk like 
a good girl."

	Her heart beating frantically, Amanda did as she 
was bid.  She felt his hands at her bottom, caressing 
and squeezing.  They felt cool against her flaming 
skin.  He prised her cheeks apart and ran a gentle, 
probing finger up and down the crack.  She was 
embarrassed that he would find her so wet.

	The hands left her bottom.  She braced herself for 
what was to come.  The pain was intense - the pain from 
the first blow always was.  No matter that she knew it 
was coming and knew it would hurt, it always took her 
by surprise.  Her breath hissed and she bit her lower 
lip to stop herself from calling out.  She clenched her 
buttocks tightly in a vain attempt to ease the pain.

	"Such a delightful bottom," he murmured.  

	There was a long pause and the pain began to 
subside.  For one fleeting, fantastic moment, she hoped 
against hope that that one blow was it, although she 
knew really that it wasn't.  There would be more. 

	The second blow fell.  If anything this was worse 
than the first for she had started to relax and it 
caught her unawares.  She was unable to prevent a small 
cry escaping her lips and she wiggled her bottom, 
possibly more than the pain warranted for she knew 
that, once it had gone, the heat would remain - the 
heat that could only be satisfied by having a stiff 
cock buried deep inside her.

	The blows went on.  The gap between each seemed 
arbitrary but each lasted an aeon.  So much so that by 
the time he had completed four or five, the heat had 
arrived in unbearable intensity.  Her bottom burned, 
her cunt burned.  She could feel moisture leaking from 
her cunt.  She wriggled her hips frantically, squeezing 
her cheeks together in a futile attempt to relieve both 
the pain and the heat.

	"Well," he said at last.  "I think that's enough."

	She waited.  Waited for the sound of his zip being 
undone.  Waited for the feel of his hard cock nudging 
the entrance to her cunt.  She waited in her need for 
him to take her.  The waiting seemed endless.  There 
was silence in the cabin except for his breathing and 
the pounding of her heart.  The slight creaking of the 
boat's timbers and the gentle slapping of waves against 
the hull she did not hear.  They were part of familiar 
everyday and below the level of awareness.  She did not 
dare look round.  But the inner fire would not be 
denied.

	"Please."  Her voice was barely audible - a mere 
whisper of sound.

	"Yes, Amanda?"  Was there amusement in his tone?

	"Please...  put your cock in me.  Fuck me.  
Please?"  
The words were wrenched from her throat.  How she hated 
this burning need.  How she needed his cock.

	He chuckled.  "Seeing as you ask so nicely..."

	His hands gripped her flaming bottom, the fingers 
digging into her flesh.  Pain flared and she cried out.  
And then he was there, his cock forcing its way gently 
but insistently between her inner folds and into her 
vagina.

	"Yesss," she gasped.  "Oh, yesss."

	He began to move.  He filled her completely, her 
insides being replaced by cock.  And when he pulled 
back he left a void as large as the space between the 
stars.  She gripped the desk tightly and thrust back at 
him.  The pain was ignored, overwhelmed by her need to 
feel him rhythmically plunder her depths.  She felt a 
trembling start deep in her  belly.

	'Oh,  God, yes,' she screamed inside.  'I'm going 
to cum.'

	She felt her juices flow, her belly spasm and her 
vagina clamp round his cock.  A feeling of  bliss 
spread through her body from the tips of her toes to 
the roots of her hair.  She wanted to suspend time and 
sail on this euphoric tide forever.  But the cock in 
her cunt was still moving.  Like the pendulum of a 
clock it shuttled back and forth.  Like time itself it 
would not be denied.

	She was very sensitive.  The pain in her bottom, 
his hands on her hips, his pubic hair scratching her 
tender skin, his balls slapping against her thighs were 
almost intolerable.  She felt his hand slide round her 
front and his finger probing her cunt lips.  It found 
her clitoris and she almost hit the roof.  She jerked 
and twisted as he tweaked the responsive nubbin and 
waves of pleasure crashed through her.  She clenched 
her vaginal muscles, trying to draw him even more 
tightly to her, keep him bound inside her.

	"Oh, yes, Amanda.  I'm going to cum."  His voice 
in her ear was hoarse with lust.

	Then he was jabbing at her, forcing his cock right 
against her cervix.  She felt it swell - and then his 
cum spewed out, seeming to shoot right up to her 
throat.  She came again, the pleasure coming in huge 
rollers that broke against the rocks of her desire.

	He fell forward, catching his weight on the desk.  
"You really as a delightful fuck, Amanda," he murmured.

	He stood, withdrawing his shrinking cock and 
helped her to stand.  Suddenly, the reality - or maybe 
the unreality -  of whole situation overtook her.  The 
events of the day came crashing in on her.  She burst 
into tears and threw herself against the hard muscles 
of his chest sobbing wildly.  Taken aback he stiffened 
then, almost against his will, his arms came up rather 
awkwardly and held her.

	"Oh, what will happen now?" she wailed.

	"Don't worry."  He patted her on the shoulder.  
"We'll take care of Jenny.  She'll be okay."  He did 
not -  could not - know that wasn't what she meant at 
all.

------

	Jenny was much better when Amanda went to see her 
next day.  She was sitting up in bed looking almost her 
old self.  She was still stiff and sore but the cut had 
healed and the welts were fading fast.  John stopped by 
while Amanda was there.

	"How are you, Jenny?" he asked in a quiet, serious 
voice.

	Jenny paled.  "Recovering," she said in a tight, 
hard voice.

	"Good.  I want to say I'm sorry I had to punish 
you like that.  If it's any consolation it was the 
hardest thing I've ever done and I hope I never have to 
do it again." 

	"My heat bleeds for you."

	There was hurt in John's eyes.  'My, God,' thought 
Amanda.  'He really means it and Jenny can't see it.'

	There was a long and awkward silence.  John 
cleared his throat.  "Right.  As long as your okay."

	"I'm just peachy," said Jenny sarcastically.  
"Okay?" she screamed when he'd gone.  "Okay!.  Of 
course I'm not bloody well okay.  The bastard whipped 
me.  He nearly killed me.  And the sadistic son-of-a-
bitch comes to gloat and ask if I'm okay."  Her voice 
had risen to a screech.  "You were there, Amanda.  You 
saw.  You saw how he whipped me - like an unwanted dog.  
You saw it, didn't you?"

	Poor Amanda was in a quandary.  She desperately 
wanted to support her friend who, she believed, had 
been badly treated.  But Jenny had broken one of the 
ship's rules.  The consequences of tampering with the 
radio had been clearly explained to them when they 
boarded.  And Jenny must have know what would happen if 
she was caught.

	"I saw it, Jenny, but I'm not sure John enjoyed 
it.  He looked very upset.  And, besides, you did try 
to use the radio."

	"So what.  I have to get of this god-forsaken 
fucking boat.  I can't take any more.  I really can't.  
So what if I touched his stinking radio."

	"But, Jenny, you knew what would happen..."

	Jenny rounded on her.  "So you're against me as 
well.  They've turned you against me.  They all hate 
me.  Every day they take me and beat me and screw me.  
Why?  Why do they hate me?  What have I ever done to 
them?  And now you hate me too."

	She slumped back, defeated and broken, buried her 
face in her hands and cried - great, heaving sobs 
wracking her body,

	With a hasty, "I'll be back," Amanda fled.

	What was she to do?  Jenny sounded as if she was 
on the verge of a breakdown.  Who could she turn to?  
There was only one person.  There was no alternative.  
Even if she ended up getting a whipping like Jenny, 
something had to be done.

	Devlin was at his usual place behind the wheel.  
His keen, blue eyes gazed out at the horizon from under 
the wide brim of his favourite battered bush hat.  He 
seemed to be staring at nothing - at one with the inner 
rhythms of the wind, the sea and the boat.

	"Excuse me," she said firmly.

	His head whipped round to find the source of the 
intrusion.  He blinked as his attention came back from 
the far horizon to register her presence.  
Thunderclouds gathered on his brow.

	"I know you mustn't be disturbed at the wheel and 
I know you will probably beat me for it but you have to 
know you have a major problem."

	She could see him bite back the instinctive angry 
retort and regard her quizzically.  "You know these 
things and still you do it?" his voice held a hint of 
amusement.

	"Yes.  I know and I do.  You have a major 
problem."

	He sighed.  "Okay.  You're not given to hysterics, 
Amanda.  You have my attention.  What major problem do 
I have?"

	"Jenny.  She's almost hysterical and I think she's 
having a breakdown."

	Beneath his tan, Devlin paled.  "A breakdown?  
I'll get John to look at her."

	"No," said Amanda firmly, although she was shaking 
inside.  "She hates John.  He thinks John whipped her 
out of spite - for pleasure.  She wouldn't let him near 
her."

	"I suppose it'll have to be Gerry, then." 
	"Can't you just take my word or it?"  She was 
close to tears.

	"I am taking your word for it, Amanda.  But if 
Jenny is having a mental breakdown, she need medical 
attention."

	"Oh.  I see.  I'm sorry."

	"Quite all right."  He fixed her with a 
penetrating look. "Do you think John did it for fun?"

	"Jenny knew the rules," she said carefully. 

	He said nothing but his eyes never left her face.  
She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. 
'Oh, well, here goes,' she thought.

	"He was rather hard on her."

	"But she knew the rules."

	"Yes, she knew the rules."

	"You haven't answered my question.  Do you think 
John took pleasure in whipping Jenny?"

	She looked away over the expanse of deck with it's 
white trim and out over the blue expanse of the sea.  

	"No," she said returned her eyes to his face.  "I 
don't 
think he did."

	He was silent for a long while.

	"Are you going to beat me?" she asked at last.

	"What?  No, of course not."

	"But I broke the rules.  I spoke to you at the 
wheel."

	"It's okay.  No-one's going to beat you."

	"But you whipped Jenny."

	"That's different.  You had a reason for breaking 
the rules."

	"Jenny thinks she had as well."

	"What?  What did you say?"

	She was walking on water here, one slip and she 
would drown.  "Jenny broke the rules because she had a 
reason to and you whipped her.  I broke the rules 
because I had a reason and you're not going to whip 
me."

	He frowned.  "Amanda, you really are a most 
provoking girl."  He grinned.  "I could whip you, too, 
if you wanted.  If that would satisfy your sense of 
fair play."

	Amanda shuddered.  "I'd rather not, sir."

	He turned and stood in the stern watching the 
yacht's wake ripple out and away, the wavelets 
gradually fading back into the ocean as if the boat had 
never been.

	"The difference is," he said at last, turning 
back, "that you broke the rules to tell me of a 
problem.  Jenny had a problem but, instead of bringing 
it to me, she took matters into her own hands."

	"But you are the source of her problem, sir."

	"I see that now."  He sighed.  "Okay, Amanda.  
I'll deal with this from now on.  Off you go."

	He was obviously going to say no more and Amanda 
left, not entirely sure what she had accomplished, if 
anything.

------

	That evening they dropped the sea anchor.  After 
days of movement over the sea, the stillness was odd, 
even oppressive.  The girls sat around  the messroom.  
Rachel had a book but never turned a page, Tracy 
painted her toenails, Georgette played patience and 
Susie just sat.  There was some desultory conversation 
but the mood was subdued.  No-one spoke of yesterday's 
events - they loomed too large in the mind to be 
properly judged.  Everything had changed and they faced 
an apprehensive and uncertain future.

	Jenny had eventually been persuaded to let Gerry 
examine her.  He had spent a long time with her and 
there had been tears and shouting.  He emerged, grim-
faced, saying he had given her a sedative and she was 
sleeping and immediately disappeared into Devlin's 
cabin with John.  They had remained there ever since, 
Devlin only appearing to demand that their meal be 
brought to them.

	Amanda tried to analyse her feelings.  It was 
clear the voyage was at an end and she wasn't sure if 
she was pleased about it or not.  It had certainly been 
eventful and she had learned things about herself that 
she would never even have dreamt about.  She had grown 
to like her companions, although they were very 
different to her, and would miss them.  They had shared 
the spankings and the fucking, the hard work and the 
fun times and had drawn close together.

	She was less certain about the men.  None of them 
had been cruel or vicious.  They had cared for the 
girls - fed them, clothed them, looked after them - but 
it was all done in a sort of casual, off-hand way.  
There had been no 'coming together' in any sense but 
the physical - and there certainly had been plenty of 
that.  She smiled.  She would definitely miss the sex.  
Oh, yes, she would miss the sex.

	The men remained in Devlin's cabin and it was 
clear nothing more would happen tonight.  The girls 
gradually drifted off to early beds.

-----

	There was no sign of the men in the morning either 
and it was several hours before Gerry appeared and 
demanded breakfast.  There would be a meeting, he said, 
at mid-day.

	They gathered on desk at twelve.  Devlin emerged 
looking tired and dishevelled, as if he had slept in 
his clothes.  'Poor thing.' Amanda thought.  'He really 
does look poorly.'

	They gathered round as he seated himself on a 
hatchway, in itself an unusual occurrence.

	"Sit down, girls," he said, with a tired grin.  
"This isn't a formal occasion."

	They sat on the deck or perched on bollards.  The 
sun shone brightly down from a cloudless blue sky, 
indifferent to the small drama being enacted on the 
little boat sailing on the large ocean.

	"You probably know," he began, "that Jenny is not 
happy.  So unhappy, in fact, that she tried to radio 
for help in getting off the boat.  We can't have that.  
This is a small boat and all must share and be treated 
equally.  So Jenny must leave.  But we have a problem.  
In fact we have a number of problems.

	"We could put Jenny ashore at the nearest port and 
carry on with our little voyage - the five of you and 
the three of us.  However, Jenny is very upset.  It is 
quite possible she will say something.  I don't believe 
she has any right to do that but she believes she has.  
So, if she speaks - goes to the police or whatever and 
persuades them that her story is true, we'll have the 
police, the coastguards, possibly even the navy, 
chasing after us.  In a number of countries, a number 
of you are technically under the age of consent, 
considerably so in one case." He smiled at Suzie.  "So 
if we get caught we're in a lot of trouble.

	"Now you may be aware that I never asked you why 
you were willing to come with us, whether you had 
permission - that sort of thing.  So, just as it would 
be, er, inconvenient to have the police chasing us, it 
may equally not suit you to have to answer a lot of 
questions from narrow minded officials with fixed ideas 
about families.  Mind you," he attempted a grin, "you 
could always say you were kidnapped and drop us 
completely in the shit.

	"We can't just drop Jenny off and carry on.  So 
we've decided that the voyage is over.  We will be 
heading for the nearest port."  Although it was 
expected, the announcement brought gasps from the 
girls.  "I'm sorry.  It's our only option.  Now what 
we're going to do is this.  We'll speak to each of you 
individually and give you some choices.  You can name a 
destination and we'll buy you a plane ticket, or you 
can make your own arrangements.  We'll get you to the 
airport or train station or whatever and give you money 
to get wherever you want to go.  We'll also give you 
enough money for things like clothes, food and 
accommodation.  Okay?   I'll give you half an hour to 
think about it ."

	He got up abruptly leaving the girls buzzing.  
Amanda stayed aloof from the whirl of conversations 
going on around her.  She was still uncertain about how 
she felt.  It wasn't supposed to happen like this - 
this sudden severance of the voyage.  She had a sense 
of incompleteness, of things left undone, half 
finished.  It was all very unsatisfactory.  She 
wandered off to the bow and stared out, unseeing, over 
an indifferent blue sea.

	When her name was called, she went to Devlin's 
cabin with some misgivings.

	"So, Amanda, my little raven, what's it to be?"

	"I don't know."

	"That's not like you.  Is there nowhere you'd like 
to go?"

	"Not really."

	"Do you have any family...  friends?

	"No."

	"So you'd like the money and make your own 
choice?"

	"I suppose so."

	She felt detached, as if this was happening to 
someone else.  Or perhaps it was a dream and she would 
wake up with a dull pain in her bottom, an ache in her 
cunt and the lingering memory of  vigorous fucking.  
She became aware that he was looking at her.

	"I must say I've enjoyed having you Amanda.  
Having you aboard has been a real pleasure.  In a 
way..." 
he trailed off.  "Well, good luck."

	"Thank you."   She turned away and left.

-----

	The remaining few days of the voyage passed in a 
sort of dream.  The coastline slowly changed from a 
line on the horizon to a smudge to cliffs and bays and 
rocks and sand.   To Amanda, the pleasant coast, so 
popular with holidaymakers, marked the edge of 
purgatory.   She had no idea what she would do when 
they landed and was looking forward to it with an 
emotion that approached fear.  Her brain seemed frozen, 
sluggish.  She found she could hardly even picture 
towns and cities and people and buildings - never mind 
make plans

	Jenny had no such doubts.  The news that they were 
heading for shore filled her with joy.  She spent much 
of each day in the bow, watching the land grow slowly 
closer and cursing the slow progress of the boat 
despite the fact that, with a following wind, they were 
making good speed.  She also made no secret of her 
plans - she was off on a plane to stay with relatives.

	They reached port and eased their way between the 
boats in the crowded marina to the berth they had been 
allocated.  They waited while Devlin went ashore to 
arrange for the tickets and money.  Amanda packed her 
few belongings into her rucksack and looked around for 
the last time at the small space that had been hers 
over the eventful few weeks.  It didn't seem much but 
it had been hers - her refuge, her nest, her private 
place.

	At the gangplank, Devlin handed each of them  a 
brown envelope.  She took hers in indifferent fingers.  
The three men watched as the girls made their way up 
the jetty and were lost in the crowd.  Amanda glanced 
back once.  They stood, still and silent, unreadable 
expressions on their faces.

	Once they were out of the marina, Jenny tore open 
her envelope and waved her ticket triumphantly.

	"Yes," she cried.  "I'm out of here.  First stop 
the airport."

	"We'll come with you," said Tracy.  "Let's go and 
see Jenny off."

	There was general assent and Amanda, with nothing 
better to do, tagged along.  On the train to the 
airport, the girls were abuzz.  Even a few weeks at sea 
with nothing to look at but water and sky and the 
occasional seagull had made them see the humdrum world 
with fresh eyes.  They gawked and chattered like 
tourists.  Amanda sat quietly, gazing apathetically out 
at the hustle and bustle.

	To Jenny's delight, there was a plane scheduled in 
a few hours and a seat was available.  They spent the 
intervening time trailing her around as she spent the 
generous allowance on clothes and makeup and trinkets.  
At the departure gate there were tearful farewells and 
many good luck hugs.  Finally Jenny ran off down the 
tunnel with a cheery wave.

	"Well," said Georgette.  "What now."

	"I'll buy us a coffee," said Tracy, "and we can 
make plans."

	They found a relatively quiet corner of the 
cafeteria.

	"So what's everybody doing?" asked Rachel.

	"Susie and I are sticking together.  Aren't we 
Suze?" said Tracy.  The younger girl smiled up at her 
and nodded.

	"I've got no particular plans," said Georgette.

	"How about you, Amanda?"

	"Oh, I don't know.  Nothing special."

	"At least they were generous."

	That reminded Amanda about the envelope.  She 
pulled it out and slit it open.  Inside was a cheque 
for a goodly sum of money and a hand-written note.  She 
glanced at it and then read it again with growing 
incredulity.  She became aware that Tracy was speaking.

	"Susie and I were sort of thinking of heading up 
the coast a bit.  Perhaps as far as San Marco.  Maybe 
spend a few days there."

	"That's funny," said Rachel, "I was sort of 
thinking the same thing, you know.  It's supposed to be 
nice there."

	"Well," said Georgette with studied casualness.  
"If you guys are all going that way, I don't have any 
particular plans.  Mind if I tag along."

	Amanda looked at each of them in turn.  Inside her 
a chorus began.  It swelled into a mighty crescendo.  A 
thousand trumpets, choirs of multitudes, a hundred 
organs sang in her heart.

	"Ha," she said.  "Ha, ha.  Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha."  
And she burst into uncontrollable laughter.

	San Marco.  'If you would like to continue our 
little adventure,' her note had said, 'meet us in San 
Marco next Sunday.' 

	San Marco!  She was going home!




