I am a friend of the Earl of Dunthorpe's daughter, Beatrice. Her father, unlike many of the old
aristocracy, was still very wealthy, his grandfather and father having invested
heavily in industry at the proper times and not merely rested on the old family
estates to maintain the traditional lifestyle.
My family was middle-class, but I had won a sporting scholarship to Trix's school, Cranbrook and as
she was also a sports whiz, we became good friends.
I spent many happy holidays up at Dunthorpe and got on well with her family, especially her
older brother, Richard. He had inherited
his father's dark good looks and was a near twin to Trix,
while I am fair with very fine, blonde hair and blue eyes although I tan as
easily as Trix and Richard.
As I said, I had become friendly with her
originally through our common love of sport.
I was good at athletics and tennis and I also played hockey and enjoyed
gymnastics and was on both those teams as well.
Trix was also a very good tennis player and as
she too was in the hockey team, we quickly struck up a close friendship.
We were both near the top of the school
academically too, and when we finished our final year there, having
matriculated near the top of the national tree, Trix's
father rewarded her (and me as her friend) with a cruise on the family motor
yacht, also named 'Dunthorpe'.
It was a beautiful vessel, a small ship
really and the accommodation was sumptuous, at least to my eyes. We left Southampton and headed south and the
first few days were wonderful. We were
heading down the West Coast of Africa and were then going to cross the Atlantic
to the Caribbean islands.
We never got there - or at least not to the
ones to which we were headed.
After passing Portugal (and calling in at
Lisbon) we visited Tangier and Casablanca and then headed westward towards the
Caribbean Sea where we were to visit Bermuda and then Jamaica. Then, out of a clear blue sky, while
approaching the eastern Caribbean area, there came this weird storm. I am no sailor, but I am sure this was no
ordinary storm.
It billowed up before us, the clouds black
and rolling, lightning flashing in and around its front, thunder rumbling even
as it approached the bows of our ship at great speed. Trix and I were up
on the bridge with the Earl, the Captain and the men stationed there and the
Captain said there was no point trying to avoid or outrun the storm. It was heading towards us and we simply
couldn't avoid it. He also said he
couldn't understand it. There had been
no warning by the weather bureau he had consulted and it wasn't showing up on
his radar, even now.
But it knocked us around. The ship, big as she was and fitted with all
the latest technological marvels in stabilisation,
was buffeted around like a cork and we all had to hang on for dear life as the
'Dunthorpe' rolled and pitched heavily in the
terrible seas. It went on for half an
hour and then we emerged - into weather and seas as calm and serene as before.
We all looked at one another - and at the
retreating storm behind us - in shock.
"What the hell was that, Andrew?" the Earl asked the Captain.
"No idea, James." (The Earl was rather modern in his ideas
about what his people called him).
"It's like nothing I've ever seen before ..." But then he
paused, staring out over the starboard bow in more shock.
We were being approached by a ship - but what
a ship! It looked like an old galleon
(although without high masts and sails), broad and high and made of wood, but
it was approaching at the rate of a racing speedboat. It was sitting up and out of the water, planing (if it was touching the water at all, that is) and
headed straight towards us.
Our engines had not stopped during our
movement through the storm although the Captain had reduced speed. Now though, as the galleon approached us,
they stopped entirely. The Captain rang
down to the engine room but they said they couldn't understand what was wrong, their engines were dead, not responding to the
controls.
At the same time, all instruments and even
our lighting failed. The 'Dunthorpe' was quite dead in the water. The crew of the galleon pulled alongside and
the Captain went down to greet them.
They didn't bother to ask permission to board and when he asked them for
their credentials, he was given them - a bullet through his head. Or at least I thought it was a bullet. Later I discovered their technology was far
in advance of mere bullets even if their boat looked old-fashioned.
We were lined up on the forward deck, every
one of us, from the Earl and Countess, down to the scullery maid in the
kitchens. Neither
James Thorpe, Earl of Dunthorpe, nor his son were
cowards and as soon as he had seen what had happened to the Captain, he
had armed himself and handed a gun to Richard but when they tried to fire them
at the pirates, which was what we thought they were, nothing happened. They were as useless as the engines and other
machinery on the ship.
"All prisoners will strip naked!"
said the pirate leader.
I stared at him in horror. He was a tall man and quite handsome although
his dress was weird. He wore a sort of
tunic, like the ancient Romans or Greeks that left his legs and arms bare,
showing off a muscular body - as athletic as all his men.
The Earl wasn't having this, though. He stepped forward and protested: "Now see here, Sir ..."
That was as far as he got. The pirate aimed his weapon - it looked like
a pistol to me - at him, a red pencil-thin ray erupted from it and the earl
dropped to the deck, as dead as the Captain.
The Countess screamed and bent down over her dead husband - at which she
was also slain.
The rest of us were numb with horror.
"As I said before, you will all strip
naked ..." He
spoke English like a native and he actually looked English, although he wasn't.
We all now obeyed very quickly, even
Richard. He didn't lack courage but
these men obviously had the upper hand and rashness now was clearly not an
option. In no time we were all naked and
standing up, ashamed at our nudity, covering our privates as best we could,
although I have to say I kept stealing glances at Richard's beautiful body for
I had long secretly wondered how athletic he was. I knew he was tall and slim, of course, but I
had never even seen him in swimming trunks before. Now, I looked at his body in awe. He was just simply beautiful! Tall and so wonderfully
muscular in a slender sort of way.
His body capped off his matinee idol looks to a tee!
Some of the male crew also had nice bodies
but Richard's was the best by far, or at least I thought so. So far as the females went, I had already
seen Trix in the showers at school and knew her
athletic body backwards. We were both
quite muscley actually but now as I stared at the
female crew, the stewards and kitchen hands, I noticed some of the younger
among them were nicely built as well.
The pirate leader (as I still thought of him)
introduced himself as Philip and went along the row pulling some forward and
leaving others alone. Those he pulled
forward were the older or less attractive amongst us, and these his crew now
summarily threw over the side of the ship, following them up with the dead
bodies of the Earl the Countess and the Captain. I watched in sorrow for both of them had been
very good to me but I really felt for Trix and her
brother who had just watched the unnecessary slaughter of their parents.
The rest of us, now in even more shock at the
awful events we had just witnessed, still stark naked, were herded over the
side of the 'Dunthorpe' onto the deck of the
galleon. Moments
later, the 'Dunthorpe's engines rumbled into life and
she got under way but now considerably down by the head. Obviously some of Philip's crew had opened
her forward sea-cocks.
We followed her, the weird galleon
maintaining station to her stern and off her starboard quarter and then, now
very low in the water at the bows but running at full speed, she simply drove
herself under the water and on her way to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean.
The galleon then picked up speed and soon we
were racing at a good fifty knots across the ocean ourselves. It was an incredible feeling. This huge ship, now racing
like a speedboat at breakneck speed to ... where?
Those who remained: Trix,
Richard, me and a dozen of the younger and better looking of the crew, all
still stark naked, were now herded down into the hold of the galleon and the
cover placed over our heads.
"What the hell is this ship?"
Trixie said belligerently once we were alone.
"I don't know," answered her
brother, "but I have a feeling that weird storm is connected with it. I don't even think we are in our own Atlantic
Ocean ..."
"What do you mean, Richard?" I
asked softly.
"I don't know, Elena," he said,
smiling fondly at me (at which I melted.
I always did when he smiled at me).
"I just have a feeling we have just moved into another dimension,
you know, like the sliders in the TV programme."
I stared at him in awe. "You mean you actually believe in other
dimensions within our time and space?"
I was pretty good at physics at school but didn't really believe in such
things myself.
"I really don't know. Anyway, it's only speculation. Of more importance is what they are going to
do with us ... It will not have been
lost on you that they have not restored our clothing ...?"
Trix and I grinned back at him but the others all
blushed and tried to hide their breasts and/or their genitals from the
rest. "I had noticed," I said.
Richard didn't smile back at me however. In fact he frowned even more. "I think it may well mean we are now
slaves ..."
The rest of us stared at him. "Slaves!" we all chorused, almost
in one voice.
"It's possible. Why else would they not allow us to dress
again?"
"What will they do with us if that's the
case?" I asked, in a now considerably smaller voice.
I wondered actually that after just losing
his father and mother in so brutal a fashion, right before his eyes and those
of his sister, that he could even think rationally but the Thorpe family hadn't
got where they were - and stayed there, by any lack of nous and Richard, the
new Earl now, was showing his mettle. I
knew his father would be proud of him.
It didn't take us long to find out. At that break-neck speed, the galleon was
soon at her destination. It seemed
Atlantis was a very real entity and so advanced was its technology that it was
able to keep its existence completely hidden from the rest of the world.
It turned out that we weren't sliders. The storm had indeed been generated by the Atlanteans but its purpose was not to facilitate a 'slide'
but to enter a porthole into the invisible bubble that surrounded the island of
Atlantis.
Ships moving into this area simply slid
around this undetectable bubble without their compasses or other navigational
equipment being aware of it and once passed the area, simply resumed their
former course. They might as well have
been travelling right through the island - almost as if it was non-corporeal and
invisible.
We on the other hand, were now inside the
bubble although we couldn't see it (or couldn't have if we were still on
deck). What we did see was the city of
Atlantis once we arrived at the port.
It wasn't a huge city. Not by our standards, having a population of
about 20,000 supported by an incredible agrarian industry - again a result of
their advanced technology. Its buildings
were in the classical Greek style, all hewn stone faced with polished marble. This much we saw as we were marched, still
stark naked, through the streets to our destination. This wasn't polished marble although it was stone ...
We were headed for the slave school for we
were indeed slaves, just as Richard had predicted.
They paraded us most shamefully. Our wrists were cuffed behind our backs and a
short chain (but a heavy one) linked us from the cuffs back to the metal collar
around the neck of the person behind us.
This prevented us from hiding any of the formerly private parts of our
bodies, our genitals, of course, and in the case of us females, our breasts as
well, from the prurient gaze of the citizens who lined the streets to watch us
pass by.
I have never been more ashamed in my life
than I was on that first terrible occasion of public exposure of my naked body
to all and sundry. Okay, I have a good
body and all of us in that coffle of slaves did too, since they had summarily
disposed of all of us who didn't, but apart from showering with my schoolgirl
friends after a sports meeting, no-one had ever seen me naked before - and
certainly not out on the public streets.
There, though, some classes of slaves were
commonly thus exposed and I was going to have to get used to it ... As we were herded up out of the ship's hold
and onto the wharf, they lined us up.
There was a crowd to watch but they were kept back behind
barricades. Not so far
they couldn't get a perfect view of our naked bodies, though.
"All prisoners will place their hands up
on the backs of their heads. Elbows
right back! Feet apart ... wider! Wider still!"
We didn't even think of disobeying. They had those guns and they proceeded to
show us they could also be used to stun or even merely to give us a dose of
horrible pain. The intensity of the ray
could be altered to any of those settings and they demonstrated it - on poor
Richard. One of our guards pointed his
weapon at his naked genitals. Richard's
antics were comical - if you could ignore the horror of the situation. He danced and leapt about, screaming
horribly, hands down at his now terribly shocked cock and balls until they
asked him if he wanted another dose. We
all got the message... And we quickly
stood up straight, hands up behind our heads, elbows right back, bellies sucked
in and legs wide apart.
It was awful.
In this pose, all of our bodies - our breasts as well as our genitals
were openly exposed to the cheering crowd only feet away from us. They weren't cheering us however. Their approbation was for Philip who had
brought in another dozen or so slaves to serve the city...
He grinned and waved at them, then went back
to his ship, ready to take off and kidnap some more likely candidates for their
slave markets.
In the meantime, our new handlers cuffed our
hands behind our backs with more heavy shackles and then chained us, each to
the other, as I have described. And then
they marched us, just as we were, naked, collared and cuffed, hands still up
behind our heads, off the wharf and into the city proper, through the streets
to the slave prison...
Another thing I was going to have to get used
to was pain and the even worse humiliation of being
fondled by all and sundry. We were
brought into the cold pile of stones that made up the slave fortress and there
lined up for the inspection by our Master...
It was now I discovered that slavery was an
institution practiced systematically by the Atlanteans. But they didn't enslave their own
citizens. This was why we had been
chased and 'harvested' by Philip whose job it was to seek out likely ships,
kidnap their crew and passengers, select those who would make good slaves and
dispose of the rest, then bring them back here to be trained as slaves. The strange happenings of the 'Bermuda
Triangle' now began to make sense to me...
First we were inspected.
The men who had taken delivery of us from
Philip were guards at the fortress and out in public, they wore the uniform of
slave trainers. It was a sort of leather
tunic. The bodice part of it was quite
soft but the skirt part was of thick leather strips, a bit like those the ancient
Roman soldiers used to wear. This is
what they wore outside the fortress.
Inside it they normally wore only a leather codpiece, held in place by a
thong around their hips - and little else...
The Commandant of the fortress was a tall
thin individual whom I came to fear as I had never feared anyone in my life
before. His name was Sander and as he
entered I gasped. To that point the crew
of Philip's ship and the guards who escorted us up to the fortress had all been
clothed in the tunic-like garb common to those people. Those on the streets also wore tunics.
But as Sander strode into the reception area,
he wore only the leather codpiece into which his genitals were tucked. His body was otherwise quite naked. As I say, he was very tall and rangy but I
sensed those long, lean muscles were very strong. He was also hairless. I could see no under-arm hair or even a trace
of pubic hair around his codpiece.
It turned out they didn't like hair on the
human body and especially on slaves.
Some of the citizens availed themselves of the depilation process,
particularly if their bodies were to be on view to others, as was the case with
these guards. It wasn't going to be long
before we would be treated. But first
Sander went up the line of new slaves, critically examining each of us in turn
as his clerk took down notes.
"Slim his belly, tighten up
abdominals," he began as he went over the first boy, a crew member from
the Dunthorpe.
"Develop his shoulders.
Biceps, too..." And so it
went on. All the while, his hands roved
over Peter's body. The boy (he was only
eighteen) fidgeted in embarrassment as the man's hands so intrusively assessed
his flesh, but he didn't resist. Each of
the guards had one of those horrible guns that could either kill us or give us
terrible pain. Richard had described
that pain to us as and he said it was as if they had touched a red hot poker to
his testicles - and held it there!
Sander was thorough. He even hefted Peter's testicles and skinned
back his foreskin, working it back and forth over the crown of his cock until
the boy, red-faced and now really humiliated, developed an erection. The rest of us looked on in sympathy and
horror for we all knew each of us was soon going to be inspected just as he now
was.
And so it proved. Tilly had been Trix's
and my stewardess and she really was a lovely girl. Now it was her turn to have her body felt and
fondled by the tall, slim Commandant.
And with her, he was even more lecherous than he had been with Peter,
who now stood there, ashamed, but relieved his disgusting examination was over.
I say disgusting for at the end, Sander had
made him turn around and bend forward while he inserted one finger then two
into his anus, wiggling it around very painfully (and very obviously) for a
while, during which he masturbated him to ejaculation and then wiped his
fingers on the boy's belly and moved to Tilly.
But while the rest of us watched his shame in absolute horror, not one
of us moved an inch. Those guns were at
the ready...
Her breasts came in for a long 'examination'
but although it was clearly a sexual trip for him (the bulge in the soft
leather of his codpiece was now even more apparent), he still dictated notes on
her body and what needed to be done to it to his clerk.
Each of us was then examined. Richard was on my right and he was first of
us three. While the man reached out to
finger my friend's body I stared in horror (but also in lust). I didn't understand (then) why it was, but
the idea of someone actually fingering Richard's superb body was a real thrill
to me. And when at last he came to his
penis, and excited it just as he had each of the other males in the line, I
just about drooled. What a weapon, I
thought as I stared down at it. Oh why
couldn't it be me who was fingering Richard's superb body...?
But then it was my turn and now Sander
stepped back a pace, staring up and down at me.
"And what do we have here?" he said softly, looking me up and
down like a piece of merchandise.
"You have worked out?" he asked. I nodded - and received a back-hander for my
insolence. "When I speak to you,
you answer properly. You will call me
Master and you will speak humbly. Is
that clear?"
"Yes, Master," I said, as humbly as
I knew how. That blow had hurt!
He then stepped forward again and now went
over my flesh with his fingers, not omitting any small part of me, dictating
notes to his clerk as he reached a new area of my body. He started with the soft skin of my cheek, staring
hard into my eyes until I wilted and turned away - at which he smiled and moved
down to my neck, caressing the flesh there for a while but then moving to my
shoulders and arms.
"Good deltoids," he commented,
"and superb biceps and triceps... tennis?" he asked and I just
remembered not to nod but replied appropriately. "Mmmm, I
thought so. And just look at these
breasts, so firm but also nice and full..." I didn't say anything of course. What could I say to such comments? His hands then moved down my belly and here
he was really ecstatic. "I've never
seen such naturally well-developed belly muscles on a girl. You have trained hard, girl?"
"Yes, Master. Athletics, hockey, tennis
and gymnastics." I didn't
notice his emphasis on the word 'naturally'.
I was later to discover its significance.
"Ah, yes, well we can still improve
it..."
This last was directed more at his own clerks and trainers than to me but I still said,
"Yes, Master," just in case.
Of course he also investigated my sex. He had done this with each of the female crew
members just as much as with the males and now it was my turn. His finger was expert. It delved into the hairy opening and I noted
his disgust at the hairs although I didn't know that was the cause of his
distaste right then. He overcame this
repugnance however and worked his finger around inside the outer lips, checking
for God knows what but in the process arousing me as he had done with all the
other girls, to a full orgasm.