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Ferdinand D’Enfer was gazing at the White Cliffs of Dover, and bit his lip as he contemplated the red dawn playing across the ivory. Mixing a new shade of red and ivory on his palette, he worked another layer of color on the canvas before him. Painting on the deck of a yacht wasn’t easy, but this morning was unusually calm as the ship rode at anchor, and Ferdinand always worked quickly. A half hour later he had the basic colors he wanted on the canvas and between the Polaroid and digital pictures he had taken previous mornings, he was confident he could finish the painting at his leisure without having to rise predawn to work on it.
The calm was a precursor to a storm, which was due around midday. Ferdinand wanted to weigh anchor later and sail up into the North Sea toward Holland when the forecast winds from the Southwest arrived. Now there was time to get everything ready to stay ahead of the wind and rough waters.
He peeked in the window at his niece Justine as she slept. It was the second time she had invited herself on a cruise: a vacation at the end of August with his other niece Chelsea had introduced her to him and his yacht, and she had fallen in love with cruising almost immediately. Her next visit was a festival of manipulation: she bullied him into serving her every whim, abandoned him for hours when they touched in a port, yet knew just how much to flirt and charm him to keep her around when he started getting fed up with her. After her last visit, he had to spend a week with his best friend in Somerset to let the residual frustration percolate from his system.
Before she came on board the previous day, he had been looking forward to some peaceful solitude to do some landscape painting at Dover, then a leisure cruise to Holland where any number of striking Dutch women would be happy to model for him. Justine had rewritten his plan from the beginning; Ferdinand was still kicking himself for letting her join him. “Why did I let her tag along? She’s nothing but trouble,” he murmured as he put away his painting supplies.
The classically sculpted lines of her face and the subtle curves of her body as she slept charmed him, although he knew that when she awakened she would be like the sea: restless, with sudden changes of wind and unpredictable squalls. What would it take to tame this shrew? Would it be worth it? It had been many years since his wife died; his brother Franklin had boasted to him one drunken evening in Morocco what a great cocksucker his daughter was, and his niece Chelsea had told him that Justine had submitted to great indignities from his panhandling brother Frederick in hopes of a fortune. He regarded her sleeping form: the appeal of her body stirred him to morning wood, which held for several minutes before the memory of her petulance shrank it back again. “So lovely, and yet such a bitch,” he muttered shaking his head before he went to the cabin to check the weather and read a book.
The weather radio was forecasting gale force winds later in the day. Ferdinand stowed his painting gear, ate, and checked his charts for the French coast up the channel. They should be able to outrun the storm rather easily if they got underway by eleven o’clock.
Around ten o’clock, a splash told him that Justine was awake and had dived off the ship for a morning swim. “Great,” he muttered to himself, “I’m going to have to lower the ladder so she can get back onboard, then spend valuable time stowing it before we can get underway.” He moped out on deck and looked around to locate her. She was swimming off the port bow; on seeing him, she waved at him from the water and yelled, “Come on in, Uncle Ferd, the water’s warm and lovely.”
“I got to finish getting ready to haul anchor. The weather’s looking ugly and there’s a new weather advisory in ten minutes.”
Justine treaded water and flipped over so her bikini-constrained breasts poked up out of the water. “Oh, come on, you’re on vacation. Don’t you want to come out to play?”
Ferdinand bit his lip; she beamed at him innocently. She waggled her breasts in the water enticingly and softly bit her lip. Shrugging his shoulders, he gave in: “Let me get the ladder over the side; I guess I can catch the update after that. But we need to get underway by eleven.” He took the rigid ladder and dropped it over the side, peeled of his shirt, and kicked off his deck shoes. Ferdinand was a reasonably handsome man in his late forties: he was thin and muscular without being sculpted, tan without being dark bronze, short chestnut hair with touches of grey at the temples. He was tall at six foot four, and clean shaven. The sky was still clear as he looked around, but a frown of concern creased his face as he dove over the side of his anchored vessel and swam out to his niece.
When he reached her, she gave him a big hug, ducking them both down under the surface for several moments before coming up. “How’s life treating this morning, Uncle Ferdie?”
Ferdinand sputtered for a sincan escort moment. “Not bad so far. I caught the morning light on the White Cliffs just right, so I should be able to finish it up when we dock in Amsterdam. How did you sleep?”
“Like a baby. It’s so relaxing to sleep on a ship. I feel full of life this morning. Race you to shore.” She struck out at a determined pace toward the shore, graceful as a dolphin.
“No, no, no, Justine, we can’t mess around this morning. There’s a storm coming, and we’ve got to get underway soon.”
Justine stopped and looked around her, “But the sky’s clear. Not a cloud in sight.”
“Storms can pop up quickly, my dear. You have to stay alert, and listen to the advisories. We’ll start seeing the clouds in a half hour if we stay here.”
She paused to ponder for a moment. “Tell you what: if you beat me to the shore, I’ll take my top off. Bet?”
“Justine, we don’t have time for this.” She giggled and launched herself toward the shore. Ferdinand went after her, and they toiled for two hundred yards to reach the sandy beach. She slowed down as he struck out, toying with him as they swam, letting him stay close enough to think he could win the race, then putting on a burst whenever he drew even. He was just behind her when they came up out of the water.
“I win, you lose. No tits today.” She settled on the beach and stretched out, her long lean form luxuriating on the sand in the sunlight. Ferdinand collapsed awkwardly beside her, panting. There was no way he was going to be in shape to swim back for several minutes, and he dozed as he rested on the shore.
When he came around, dark clouds were gathering thickly in the West, and reached a third of the way across the sky toward them. Ferdinand poked Justine frantically, who muttered something incomprehensible. “Honey, we’ve got to get back to the boat, now. The storm is coming and we have to be underway when it gets here; this isn’t a protected anchorage.”
Justine stayed and pouted: “But we can go to port over there.” She pointed at the town of Dover on the distant horizon west of them.
“It’s farther away than it looks, we would be going against the current and the wind, and the storm would catch us halfway there. We have to run before the storm, which is going to be a more interesting experience than you’ve ever imagined. I’m swimming out now, and if you aren’t on board when I weigh anchor, you’re left behind.” Ferdinand ran to the water, and started swimming frantically back to the ship. After a couple of moments pause, Justine followed him.
Ferdinand began the winches that brought the anchors up and the boat lurched into motion as the waves started to affect them. The radio droned an update, and a whine came from the back side of the ship. Justine looked around puzzled and Ferdinand said, “It’s the rear winch motor; the line must have gotten fouled. I’m going to cut the cable. Hold the wheel firm when the boat starts to drift free and start the engine; keep us going east away from the storm until I get back.” He ran out of the cabin after grabbing his wire cutters, leaving her looking confused. On passing through the door, he attached a line to his belt: the last thing he needed to do was fall overboard.
He got to the back of the boat, and heard the engine gun to life just before he cut the line. It took three tries to get the cutters positioned and the line cut, and the boat immediately began to wobble wildly when it came free. The boat began to make a course to the northwest, against the waves at a 45 degree angle, and was tossed around violently as it tried to make progress. After a lifetime of stumbling forward in the chaotic lurching, he finally found the door to the cabin and got through it. “What the hell are you doing?” he bellowed as he flung off his raincoat.
Justine was trying to hang on the wheel to force the boat when she wanted to go. “I want to go to Dover; I don’t want to go out to sea. There a place I want to have supper there and some shopping I want to do before we leave for Amsterdam.”
“You’ll sink the ship this way; the waves are too big, the current’s too strong, the engine doesn’t have enough power to buck and we’re too close to some huge rocks. Let me have the wheel.”
Ferdinand lurched across the deck toward her, but she lashed out with her foot to send him crashing to the wall.
“I don’t care; we’re going to Dover, damn it!”
A wave broke over the ship, tossing her to the floor as the wheel spun. He beat her back to the wheel, and spun it around to point the boat Eastward. After a few moments, the chaotic bucking in every direction subsided and they made a roller coaster progress in one direction.
As the boat settled into its course, Justine made another effort to wrestle the wheel away from Ferdinand; he pushed her off easily and locked the wheel in place. They he grabbed her and hauled her out the door around to the side of the sincan escort bayan boat. Taking a rope, he tied her hands securely to the outer railing above her head to the front of the cabin directly under the main window. He screamed in her ear: “This is the last time you will defy me, you stupid girl. The sea doesn’t listen to arrogant, self-centered bitches who want to have their own way. I told you that we couldn’t make Dover and you chose to ignore me.” He bent down, his body in perfect rhythm with the surging sea as he tied her feet to a couple of brackets. “You’ll stay here out of the way and learn what happens when you try to ignore what the sea is telling you. You’ll get wet and windblown, but you’ll be all right.” He whipped out his utility knife. “Oh, by the way, it was ancient tradition that a woman on board brought bad luck unless she exposed herself to the sea. We’ve had some bad luck today, so I think we need to take every precaution.” Moving deftly, he sliced off Justine’s bikini with his knife. “You should be glad that I don’t keelhaul you.” Ignoring her wailing, he went his business of guiding the ship out to sea.
Ferdinand ran before the storm the entire afternoon and into the early evening before his course got out him of the storm’s path. The wind and the rain looked more frightening and dangerous than they were: he was able to stay well away from any damaging winds and the lighting remained behind him.
He looked out the window at his niece. Justine’s wet hair was whipping her face intermittently in the gathering gloom. The waves tossed the little boat violently, but she was protected against the elements except for some sprays that surged up or ribbons of rain that splattered.. She was screaming at the top of her lungs: “Let me go, you arrogant bastard! How dare you chain me naked out in the open like this! Just you wait, I’m going to beat your ass for this, you creep!” She paused, gulped and shuddered. He smiled as she pulled at her bonds: “I spent years learning to tie knots, kiddo. You’re not getting loose until I’m ready.” Her energy flagged and her protests came out as mewls: “Let me go, uncle Ferd, please. I’ll never give you any trouble again. I promise. By all that is holy. Let me go. Let me go.”
But Ferdinand was busy handling the boat in the pitching sea. He looked down at her, made sure she was still protected from the worst of the storm, and took a gulp from his coffee. It was going to be a long night.
Around ten o’clock in the evening, the sea was calm again, and Ferdinand slowed down and dropped anchor. Justine was worn out when he untied her, and he carried her shuddering below to put her in her bed and cover her. She didn’t say a word, and by the time he had gotten a bite to eat and washed it down with a beer, she was fast asleep. He was still wide awake after his snack, so he eased Justine’s cases out of her cabin quietly to see what he could find. Two cases revealed nothing out of the ordinary, but the third held a digital camera. Flipping through the pictures on it, he found several shots of both his nieces undressed in compromising positions, and he downloaded them onto his laptop, sending copies to his home computer via satellite internet. There was also an interesting piece of leather that gave him an idea. He put the cases in a safe place along with some other items from around the boat and made did a couple other tasks, then he left the camera on the table and went to his own bed.
Ferdinand was awakened around daybreak by a loud banging from Justine’s cabin. Rolling out of his bunk, he staggered muzzily out the door, down the hall and into her room. As he opened the door, she opened her mouth to scream, and found that she could only make a few inarticulate squeaks as she pulled a blanket up to cover her naked form. He said: “What, modest at last? You needn’t bother; I saw the whole package last night, remember? The body would be stunning without the warped mind inside it. Sorry that your voice is gone. . .not. You almost got us killed yesterday with your stupid selfishness, so for once in your life you’re going to suffer the consequences of your actions.
“Your clothes and camera, as well as the radio, telephone, and every sharp implement are stowed away in a safe place that you can’t break into. We’re anchored by a little waterless island off the French coast; the weather is going to be good for the next ten days. There is more than enough food and water for two people for longer than that. The chain attached to your leg iron is long enough for you to go anywhere on the boat you wish if you’re careful enough. Don’t think about fouling it just to give yourself a chance to get away. I’m going to get a little painting done and rest for a few days; you are going to learn to behave yourself. Misbehave and I’ll tie you back where you were last night; you’ll wish that there was just a storm going on when I’m done with you. It’s your choice: you can learn or you can suffer.” escort sincan Ferdinand stumped back to his room and over to his bunk, pausing to lock his door.
For the next three days, Justine and Ferdinand coexisted on the yacht: he completed his painting of the White Cliffs of Dover, and did a study of the island with its flotsam. He paid as little attention to her as he could; he fixed marvelous meals for them to share but ate his portion on deck away from her. If she asked him a question, he answered it politely and briefly, then went immediately back to what he was doing. She awakened him once that first day after the storm, and the result was a repeat of the threat to tie her up. It wasn’t long before she spent most of her time in her cabin.
The third night after supper, Justine rasped a request: “I’d like to model for you. Would you like to do a painting of me? Take some pictures? Anything you want.” Ferdinand nodded, “If you’re awake before dawn and on deck, I’ll do a painting of you that you may keep. Otherwise, I’ll work on something else.”
The next morning, she was on deck waiting for him in the pre-dawn darkness. He nodded and positioned her laying on her side with her arms in front of her so the sun would rise behind her. As the light grew in the East and day broke, he snapped several pictures with her digital camera from several angles, then told her she could go back to bed.
“Are you sure that’s all, Uncle Ferdie?” she whispered. “I’ve got some lovely ideas.”
“No, you need to go below, rest and recover your voice. Don’t talk: it will just slow your recovery.” He pushed her firmly toward the door, and waited until she was all the way down toward her cabin before he went in and activated his laptop computer.
The pictures transferred to his laptop without incident, and he printed out a couple to study the shades of light on her body. Printing out another of them, he pinned them to a canvas on his easel on deck, and began working. By mid-morning, he ran out of energy, sat down in the sunlight and closed his eyes.
There was a splash off to the starboard. A woman was pulling herself up the ladder, her hair was long, blond tresses that were plastered to her shoulders. Full lips creased in an eager smile below green eyes and a button nose. Bare to the waist, her breasts were large, riding high with drops of water dripping from her pert pink nipples. The cast of her skin was bluish, and below her waist the lines of scales were fading as her skin dried into bubble hips and full, shapely legs. Ferdinand rose in disbelief, powerless to move, and her sparkling eyes transfixed him as she walked confidently over to him. A long kiss tasted of the sea, and she pushed him gently down into his chair, undoing his shorts and pulling them down to the deck.
Ferdinand pulled her to him, standing before him, and gently tasted the tangy skin of her breastbone while palming the sides of her breasts. She cradled his head as it moved back and forth, taking short gulps as his quest drew him near the sensitive peaks. Pushing him back, she knelt before him and explored his crotch with her slightly raspy tongue. The feel of her tongue that sought every sweetness, her hands that stroked his sides, her drying hair and rubbed his thighs with furry delight sent him into realms of unimagined bliss. He lay back with his eyes closed, rolling his head, tracing her delicate ears with his fingers, as his seed gathered for its own storm surge.
Time stood still, and his explosion seemed to last forever, and the mermaid savored him like fine caviar, her tongue caressing the head of his cock as he subsided, and she happily drank him until he had given her all he had. Ferdinand’s head stopped with his mouth wide open in bliss, but some distant part of his consciousness notice that her left hand had slipped down his side and was groping awkwardly at his right foot.
Opening his eyes, he saw Justine’s head between his legs; she was holding his penis with her right hand as she licked it clean while her left hand was rooting around in his front pocket. Ecstasy turned to outrage in a moment: he pulled her jerked her head up by the hair roughly and tossed her to the deck to stand over her.
He stepped out of his shorts and stood over her naked, quivering now with rage. “Very naughty, Justine, very naughty. Just when I thought we were making progress. Little did you know that you need more than the keys to start the boat right now; the battery is in a safe place. I didn’t intend to give you this chance to take control of me, but I see that it will take more to make you learn.” He pounced on her lightning fast, pulling her to her feet and hauling her writhing to the stanchions where he bound her before. The rope was still there, and he bound her facing the ship, her back to the ocean.
“What are you going to do to me?” she squeaked through still raspy vocal chords. “What are you going to do to me? You just be careful or I’ll really pay you back for this, you asshole.”
Ferdinand disappeared into the cabin and popped back out again a few moments later. The air sang with the crack of a whip coming from the rear of the ship. Justine winced as she heard it:”You went through my suitcase, damn you. I was saving that for Auntie Pru.”
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