So in those first few days I was sailing along the coast with the man I called The Captain. We never actually exchanged names, there was enough communication between us that we could have if we had wanted to, but I sure didn't. It was bad enough that I had a name for him in my head.
It wasn't that I hated him or anything. I was just humiliated, even disappointed that my fist few sexual encounters in my life were so intimately tied to a man I didn't know. Those first few hours after losing my best friend, and the life I had known would forever be linked to the first hand-job I had given and the first blow-job.
That I had been forced to do those things to an older man who spoke a different language and in exchange for basic things like food and water was debasing in the extreme.
And yet, the actual acts themselves weren't that bad, really. I sort of liked how it took my mind off of the horror that had happened.
When I woke up the first morning on the boat I was disoriented. I suppose the shock may have made me block out what had happened the day before in those first few second of being awake, but as I was climbing out of the comfort of sleep I was confused as to why the world seem to be moving under me.
Before I was actually conscious I was already worried about my sanity. What was wrong with me that my body felt like it was moving when I was laying still?
I clawed my way to wakefulness and looked around me, seeing once more the small cabin of the Captain's boat. All of the horror came flooding back. The death of Brianna, the zombies, the fear and flight, and then with a shame that I had barely registered yesterday the sex acts I had performed on the Captain. My mouth remembered the warm gush of his sperm filling it and my cheeks burned with a deep blush.
As carefully as I could I sat up and saw him lying beside me, sleeping.
I glanced at the door to the cabin and saw that it was still as I remembered it. Locked. The key on a chain around his neck.
I was trapped.
And I had to pee very badly.
The only other door in the cabin may have been a bathroom, I didn't know, but if it were I still needed a key to get in there as well.
Did I need to escape? Was my shame great enough that I wanted to flee from him?
I had no idea where we were in Mexico. If I could get off the boat, with food and water, or even without, where would I go? How would I make my way through the jungle barefoot with only a Bikini on? It just wasn't worth the danger.
And yet how many times could I do these demeaning sex acts for him in exchange for the basic necessities of life?
As I sat there debating my future the Captain woke up.
He looked at me with his piercing dark eyes and his mouth lifted in just the barest of smiles. His gaze roamed over my practically naked body giving me shivers.
Without a word he threw off his blanket and stood, he wore only his boxer shorts, and an obvious erection stood up inside them. He moved to that other door and unlocked it revealing that it was in fact a tiny bathroom.
He closed the door, but I heard him urinate and my own bladder began to scream at me to do the same.
When he finished I stood to take my turn but he locked the door behind himself, barring me from the facilities.
I pointed at the door and then at myself.
He shook his head and made a fingers rubbing thumbs gesture indicating payment. I frowned and stared at him and said a sarcastic "Really?"
He understood my tone. I could tell from the wicked smile he gave me, and a “What are you going to do?” shrug.
Shaking my head I made the “money” gesture and indicated he should tell me what he wanted.
He smiled again and he pointed at my crotch and made a “Psssss” noise and pointed at his eyes then my crotch.
He wanted to watch me pee. God what a sicko.
I really had to go, and I figured that him watching was better than any alternative I could think of so I nodded. He reached around and unlocked the door and stood back so I could pass him.
Suddenly I got shy. I was about to bare myself to a man for the first time. I stood in the small space of the little closet and positioned myself to sit and as quickly as I could. I pulled down my bikini bottoms and sat down fast so he couldn’t see me.
I was too tense to pee right away and that gave the Captain enough time to reach out and pull my thighs apart. He did it suddenly and I barely had a chance to fight him, holding my legs still after he pulled them a foot apart.
I could have fought him and closed my legs again, but he barked something in Spanish and I stopped. I looked into his eyes, too close to mine and I saw his anger. It cowed me. I had made a deal.
Opening my legs wider I revealed my bare sex to him.
I had trimmed my pubic hair before coming here; the hairs were short and close to the skin so they wouldn’t poke out of my tiny bikini. It left me with next to no coverage; my vulva was fully exposed to his intense stare.
Shame flooded my body, I felt utterly exposed before him, even though I still had my top on. He let go of my legs and sat back on his haunches beside me staring at my nether lips.
I felt totally degraded while he gazed at my sex and I tried to relax enough to pee. It was really difficult given the circumstances.
Eventually the need to pee overcame my humiliation and I started to let go and urinate. As soon as my pee began the Captain reached out and spread my legs even wider apart. It felt pornographic to be spread so fully open. I blushed hotly; my face actually starting to sweat as I sat there shamefully exposed doing something so intimate.
The Captain sat still beside me. I couldn’t look at his face to see what emotion he felt but he seemed satisfied when I finished and closed my legs and I wiped myself.
That might have been the worst part, the basic, yet degrading process of cleaning myself after being debased thoroughly before him.
I believe I have fully detailed the negative emotions I was experiencing peeing in front of a strange man for the first time.
Now let me tell you the other part.
I also got really horny.
I felt just as much shame about how my own body betrayed me that morning. I got wet, and my nipples grew hard as I sat quivering while I urinated with my sex open and vulnerable before a man. I wanted him to look at me. I wanted to feel his lust for me, palpable in the small space.
My mouth went dry and I licked my lips tentatively. I felt as if any movement would show how aroused I was. It wasn’t that I was attracted to him. I wasn’t really, but I wasn’t un-attracted to him either. I was confused and couldn’t properly sort out all the emotions at war inside my body.
When I finished I looked at him and he stared back with a look that seemed to have become more focused. He seemed to be seeing me more deeply now, and it burned like a scourge of mortification. I didn’t want him to see my humiliation so clearly. I was sure he could tell how sexy I felt under his watchful eye.
I stood and brushed past him.
Satisfied with what he had seen the Captain stood, closed and locked the bathroom door and then unlocked the door to the deck. He peered out cautiously and I suddenly felt fear. What was he afraid of being out there?
I saw that his knife was in his hand as he carefully moved out onto the deck. He looked all around the boat and the area around us, then went to the motor and unlocked it too.
I figured it must be safe to come out and I followed him up on top.
The heat was incredible already. The sun was only a little bit up over the horizon but I started to sweat as soon as I walked fully into the sun’s rays.
The Captain started the motor and we left our little harbor and went out into the open sea once more.
It was tedious sailing at first, and then I grew at peace with the monotony. It was lulling, just sailing along the open ocean, land a mile or so off to our right as we motored North.
I was trying my best not to drink too much water, but it was incredibly hot and I had no cover from it.
The Captain wouldn’t let me go below deck, into the shade. I don’t think he trusted me with what-ever he had down there.
I was forced to endure the heat and started to grow red. I had to give in and ask for more sunscreen.
The Captain took his time applying the lotion, really feeling me up as he stroked my skin and fondled my ass and tried to touch my tits. I stopped him, but it was only half-heartedly. I actually enjoyed the strong hands coating my skin in slippery lotion. I grew horny once more and was sure he knew it. I held myself as aloof as I could, but still as his fingers massaged my thighs I felt them open to him, offering my once more hidden charms.
He took so much time sliding his hands all over my flesh that I felt myself getting woozy, a languid snoozy feeling, that made me wet and open to him.
But there was a part of me that was acutely aware of where I was and what was going on, so I stopped him from putting his fingers under my bikini and touching either my tits or my pussy.
We were engaged in a barter for goods and I was acutely aware of how vulnerable I was. All I had to offer was my body and what I could do with it.
Once I was fully coated in lotion I sat back and looked at him.
The Captain looked pained, as if it hurt him to stop touching me. That was a good sign. I pinched some of his shirt between my finger and a thumb and tugged on it. Then I made the payment gesture with my other hand, and tugged again.
He smiled, understanding I wanted more for the fondle.
Grinning he took off his log sleeved shirt and gave it to me. This felt like the first time I had come out on top in one of our exchanges. I put it on and covered myself from the laze of the sun and the heat of his gaze.
He sat back, happy with the exchange, his now bare torso glowing deep brown in the warm sun. He was so dark he obviously went shirtless often. The skin was thin over his muscles, which were tight and compact but wiry and strong looking. There were some scars on him that looked vicious, and he had a tattoo that looked sort of like a Military tattoo for some brigade or something.
I couldn’t help but wonder who he was. And as I snuck glances at his body I realized that he was pretty hot for an old dude. If a young guy was this fit I would be drooling over him with my friends, but the grey chest hair and the slight sag in his skin made me feel perverted for thinking he was sexy.
For hours we sailed up the coast. We ate and drank as little as possible. I could hear his stomach rumble and I followed his lead denying myself just to be safe. His eyes combed over the shore looking for whatever he was looking for. He looked tense.
I was tense too. Every city, small town or resort we came to we saw zombies roaming the streets staggering around looking drunk. We didn’t see any living people.
When the day grew too warm, almost unbearably hot the Captain walked forward, letting the boat run straight by securing the steering wheel. When he got to the prow he took off his hat, deck shoes, pants, and even underwear. Once naked he reached down and grabbed a rope dangling from the side, and he jumped into the water.
I stood, suddenly nervous that I would be alone. I saw the rope was affixed to the stern as well and the Captain let himself run along in the water alongside the boat as it motored along.
He climbed hand over hand back to the stern and used a ladder there to climb back in. Dripping, naked he grinned and indicated I should try it.
It looked wonderful so I did.
The water was warm, but cooler than the air by a lot, so it was still shocking to jump in and get pulled up against the side of the boat. I was battered along the side as I climbed down to the stern, but it was only a mild bumping, we weren’t moving that fast. I climbed carefully into the stern and felt more awake and refreshed than before. And I felt cleaner. I’d had layers of sunscreen on. I decided to go again and clean myself even more.
I enjoyed cooling down, seeing the Captain naked had got my body all fluttery. I was developing a real physical attraction to my tormentor. Sort of like that syndrome when captives start to feel sorry for their kidnappers.
I miss the internet. I liked looking up things like that.
I lay dangling in the water at the ladder for a little while really soaking in the water and enjoying the splash. On the second pass I discovered that if I placed my feet against the hull of the boat I avoided the bumps and bruises of bouncing along the side.
Eventually I climbed out and let the sun dry me by stretching out on the front of the boat. I could almost pretend that I was simply on vacation once more.
But I had to dress and hide in the small patch of moving shade by the cockpit. My skin was just too pale to lay out for any length of time. I huddled in the shade beside the Captain as he steered us North.
That day and night went by without any issue.
The Captain had no interest in seeing me poop that dusk, so I got a free use of the bathroom. And now that I knew about the rope and the ability to dangle off the stern I wouldn’t be needed to debase myself simply to go to the washroom.
Eating was a relief at night fall, but it was also depressing how little food I had left. My water supply was shrinking as well. Soon I would either need to leave him or submit myself to using my mouth on the Captain again. It was a very difficult choice. Even though I was getting horny spending time with a rugged, fit even somewhat handsome older man, I still hated the idea of being forced to prostitute myself to get the basic staples of life, food and water.
For three days we had been sailing North, we saw nothing but zombies all along the coast in every place human’s used to inhabit. It was terrifying as I understood the scope of the nightmare. There was no more Mexico. It was a Zombie Apocalypse.
Even the Captain was getting scared. It showed in the way he held himself, and the way he winced his eyes every time we saw a new place with no human’s in sight.
I was getting lightheaded from lack of food. I had managed to eat once a day for three days, each meal less satisfying, the water less and less helpful. I hadn’t gone to the bathroom yesterday and I was nervous about that.
The Captain watched me eat, and noted when I didn’t eat with him. It amused him at first, but now he sensed a battle of wills between us and he settled in, a stoic sort of patience on his face when he ate and I didn’t. He knew, as I did, that it was inevitable that I would need to trade for more food, and soon.
He started to look at me hungrily now.
Both of us hungry, but for different things.
When he saw me eat the last of my fruit he relaxed noticeably. It was only a matter of hours now before I was forced to perform oral sex on him for more food. My water was almost gone as well.
When the sun set he found a place to weigh anchor far earlier than in the last few days. He went below decks and ate a big meal in front of me, finishing off with some cookies I hadn’t seen before. He wasn’t quite gloating, but it was close.
I was starving. Maybe literally, I couldn’t tell. Saliva spurted into my mouth each time I watched food go into his. It was torture, but I couldn’t give him the satisfaction of getting what he wanted so easily. A short twelve hours since I had eaten last. It seemed so stupid.
I couldn’t sleep.
I only saw food and his penis floating behind my eyes, each turning into the other, erection and nutrition alternating over and over in the dark behind my eyes, my stomach crying for either, or, even both.
I lasted until mid-morning the day after.
I hadn’t eaten in thirty six hours.
The last of my water was gone and I was weak from lack of food. I fainted sitting on a bench at the back of the boat. I lost consciousness, a sudden gap and I was slumped over on the bench flopping as the boat crashed over a wave.
I knew I was in trouble so I gathered myself and went to him.
I stood beside the Captain as he piloted the boat and when he saw me standing beside him he knew why I was there. He looked concerned for a moment, then his face became hard and he aimed the boat further out to deep water, locked the wheel and walked to his bench in the stern.
I went to him and in a near trance I opened his pants and pulled out his cock. It was soft and floppy but I was drooling for it. It had become a source of nourishment to me. I gulped him in and sucked on his flaccid length actually looking forward to the spill of his cum, there were calories in it and my body wanted them far more than any feeble idea such as Dignity.
Dignity had no power over hunger, at least not for me, not then. I slurped his cock and cherished the taste of… anything in my mouth after so long. I spilled saliva out over his head and he grew hard in my mouth filling my face and making my stomach rumble with jealousy.
I sucked his knob like it were the most succulent steak in the world, the finest bit of meat ever consumed. I licked along his length like it were a marvelous ear of corn, or an ice cream cone. I dipped lower and licked and sucked his balls like they were a juicy peach or a moist kiwi.
Oh how I loved sucking his cock that day. No food before or since has tasted better than his penis did that afternoon. And when he began to ejaculate over my tongue my mouth soaked it up, I swallowed it like it were the finest wine ever known to mankind. I savored it, swirling it around my mouth taking in the deep powerful flavour of it, the first flavor to be in my mouth for over twenty four hours, and that after days of denial and minimal food.
I squeezed him, and milked him, draining every last drop of his sperm until he pushed me away. I slumped back mortified that I had behaved like such a slut, but my stomach groaned from the tiny bit of fluid I had just delivered to it. I needed more.
The Captain dressed and went below deck while I sat on my knees, tears spilling down my cheek while I licked the inside of my mouth incessantly trying to find any hidden bits of cum still in my mouth I could swallow.
The Captain brought me water, bread, some fruits and a protein bar. I ate all of it in one sitting. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a feast, and I indulged in all of it.
When I was done I felt sore and too full, and embarrassed. Now I would have to do the same thing again tomorrow. I had nothing else to eat and couldn’t, wouldn’t go that long without food again, it didn’t matter what happened, I needed to be in control of how I behaved. I had to do better than what I had just done.
I couldn’t ever let myself show the Captain how badly I wanted him again. It was worse when I revealed my need. I would rather just need, than wear my desperation like a sign and behave like a slut. I wanted him to think I hated it, but now he knew part of me loved it.
And I did. I did love it. I loved how dirty it felt to be on my knees with his cock in my mouth. I felt like an animal and it was wild and exhilarating. It was satisfying. I really enjoyed the taste of his cum, and the feel of his cock and the smell of his crotch.
And all of that made me feel horrible, like a total whore.
I was a whore. There was no other word for it, but I hated that he knew I felt good being his whore. He shouldn’t be allowed to know that. And I resolved to never show him that again.
I vowed to hide my passion. I swore I would never let him see my true feelings again. I wanted to be unreadable, inscrutable and stoic like him.
Lying in bed that night, my belly already growling for more food after ten hours without eating, I made myself hard in my mind and practiced being strong and being in control.
I fell asleep ending my first week in the Zombie Apocalypse.