Cabin Fever Part One
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Cabin Girl free porn video
Cabin Girl.
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters
I have always wanted to go to sea. I suppose it was because I was born
and raised in Iowa.
You do not have to be supper smart, but it helps to have a few clues. I
studied what would be useful and I wrote my letters, and straight after
high school I went to Boston on a cadetship with an Atlantic shipping
company.
Once you are on board the biggest factor is days at sea. Put in the
days and pass the maritime school papers. Follow the rules, know your
muster station, keep your logs. It is not rocket science. Before too
long I had an ocean-going master's ticket (unlimited tonnage). I went
to work on container ships.
I got married. My wife knew that she had married into the merchant
marine. I set her up in Long Beach CA. I hate California, as most
folks from Iowa do, I guess. But at least it has the sea. I visited
her often enough to give us three children, and to see something of them
growing up. Neither of my two boys want to follow their father into
shipping, although the oldest is talking about joining the Navy.
I want to say that I love my wife, but I am not sure that I really know
what that is. I do not want another wife. I do not want her to have
another husband. She is a good mother. She spends what I send her
wisely. She is a good woman. When we have sex, we both like it.
But the truth is that I am bit out the ordinary when it comes to sex. I
suppose you might call me a tranny chaser. I had my first ladyboy in
the Philippines. She was small and round and pretty as a picture.
There is no pretending for those girls. When you fuck them right, they
spurt out their very own stuff on the sheets. You know that squealing
is no pretending. If it happens, that shit is real. If it does not
happen, then keep fucking.
The ports of India, Asia and the Pacific have plenty of girls like that.
You can fuck all night for the price of steak dinner back home. It
could be 2 or 3 nights, but I never stay in port that long. I have the
best turnaround figures in the fleet. That matters. Dock, off load,
cast off. Time tied up is costly.
So I like girls with a bit extra. I am not going to apologize. I am
not the only one. That would explain why there are as many ladyboys in
port and regular girls. In my view, there are never too many. So I am
always looking for new talent. I sort of think that I can see the girl
in the boy, as it were.
I saw the girl in Gabby. Gabriel as he then was. Found him in Colon,
Panama, but he was from Venezuela. Do you know that Venezuela has
produced more Miss Universes than any other country? I saw a little
Miss Universe in Gabrielle, as I called her.
Gabriel (as he then was) had said that he was looking for work on board
ship. There is hardly a third world port you do not pass through that
somebody does not come looking for work, just like that. You just say
no. No seaman's ticket, no berth aboard. Unless, that is, you see the
girl in the boy.
I never thought that Gabby could be a member of the crew. Too small and
too soft. The rules are different for my passengers. They come aboard
on my terms. Well, maybe I was guilty of not explaining my terms to
Gabby when she came aboard. I guess I thought that she would come
around when we got to sea.
Now you might say: What did the crew say about this new person come
aboard. Well, all the Indonesians that make up the majority of my crew,
don't care, and my officers are a tight group and let me do as I like.
We earn good money. I pick up all the bonuses for being the top vessel,
and I share them. Everyone on deck wants to be on my ship. Below decks
they are not concerned.
But you do need a good first mate. Somebody who has all of the
technical skills but perhaps lacks the ruthlessness to be in command.
Somebody who can be close to the crew and keep you in touch with issues
that might arise. Somebody who knows that you are the best and will
follow you, disregarding any odd proclivities that you might have. Stan
Jablowski was that man and had been with me for some years.
As master of a large vessel I have a large suite close to the bridge.
There is a bed for Gabby in a room that I can lock off. She has use of
my bathroom. I can make sure that she pisses like a girl should. She
can even step outside without leaving the space set aside for me. But I
am happy for her to roam further if she follows my rules.
My rules are simple. Dress like a girl. Talk like a girl. Act like a
girl. Fuck like a girl. Do that and while we are at sea, the ship is
open to her. But when we are in port, she is under lock and key.
The first couple of ports she tried to hide aboard, so she could get
away when we quayside. You might think that there are plenty of places
to hide on a big container ship, but a master needs to know every single
nook and cranny, not even big enough for a person to hide in, but
anything large enough to conceal drugs or other contraband.
I told her that if she did it again, I would have her nuts. I was happy
for her to keep those, but I know from experience that when you whip
those off, it changes a girl. Maybe its chemistry - the hormones and
all. But maybe its just that they realize that the life they had before
is now over. Whatever future they imagined as a man, is now unlikely,
without a key part of equipment.
We say a ship without a screw (a propeller) is not a ship - it's a
barge. A boy without nuts can never be a man.
But still she made a run for it. She played a longer game that time.
She started to show me that she was accepting. She styled her hair
nicely and put on makeup, and she flirted with me a little. She even
made a show of enjoying sex, but maybe she did. Certainly, she was now
nicely loosened by regular penetration, but I did not see any jism. You
know what I say: Keep fucking her.
She waited until the last minute to make a run for it. She knew that
there would be a pilot boat coming out for us, so she planned to jump
into the sea beside it. She never got the chance. I had to lock her up
for three days. And when she got out, she knew that I was up to the
threat. You see, any person in command knows that if you set the rules
and determine the penalty, you have to do what you say. Thank heaven
for scopolamine (or burandanga as they call it in Panama where I bought
it). A little powder into that pretty face and bang! She is mine to
direct.
She just sat there watching me with the blade and the sutures, with a
look of confusion on her face. I showed her the naked balls with
attached bits and pieces, now free of their wrinkled purse. She looked
puzzled. The pain had not yet kicked in. I threw them out onto the
deck. We were just out of port, so the gulls took them.
Like the other one before her, Gabby just fell into a state of
depression. To cheer her up, I said that in the next port I would have
a girl come aboard to spend the stopover with her. I had somebody in
mind who could do this job, in the next port as we were on multiple East
Asian circuits for a few months. I knew that she needed a friend, and
right now I could not be that person. I would have liked to have been
that friend to her, but as I said, command does not allow that,
especially when the rules are being broken.
The girl I brought aboard was another ladyboy I knew, called Iris. I
had fucked her several times, but not since she had been undergone
further surgery. Iris came equipped with a large bag of girl stuff to
give Gabby a makeover. I think that Gabby really enjoyed it. Maybe it
was having somebody with her, or maybe she now realized just how pretty
she could be. To be honest, she blew me away when she appeared a silk
dress with her hair styled and her face beautified.
I thought that she could be the girl of my dreams. But as it turned
out, Iris had put another idea into her head.
She seemed to be on her best behavior. I put it down to the absence of
male hormones in her body, or the new female ones that Iris had
provided, or perhaps she was just becoming resigned to her fate. Iris
had left her with pills cosmetics and hair stuff, which I paid for. She
suddenly became obsessed with her new feminine appearance. She was
constantly sitting in front of the mirror plucking out any remaining
hairs and applying either makeup or moisturizers. Her hair was much
longer so I could pull on it when I rode her, but she always complained
if I messed it after she had put the effort in to add curls.
Do not get me wrong. I like my girls feminine, but not female. I like
them to whimper, not whine.
I gave her more freedom around the ship between ports. I still locked
her inside her cabin when we were in port. She knew the drill. She
went willingly. But at sea she had the run of the ship. She spent time
in the wheelhouse with me, or chatting with Stan. She told me that he
was better at helping her with her English because it was not his native
language too.
She insisted that I allow her more girl time when we got to Laem Chabang
in Thailand. I had a couple of girls from Pattaya nearby come to the
boat to do some business with my crew and stay with Gabby. I knew these
girls and I felt able to risk them taking her off the boat for a night
out, on condition they ensure her return.
They did. Gabby came back. And she was so happy with me that for the
first time ever, she initiated sex. She asked me to fuck her face to
face, with a pillow under her butt. She said that she had learned how
to clean and perfume her butt hole, to give me more pleasure. I was
very happy. I even put my tongue in it. It was flavored with
strawberry jelly.
It was not until our return to Thailand a month later that Gabby jumped
ship.
I was really not expecting it, but it is always a risk. I always
adopted a policy of risk management, and that means eliminating the
problem before it becomes one. On ocean runs a reluctant girl can
easily go over the wall, and she will never be found.
But Gabby seemed to be adapting. Of course, it might have been just an
act to put me off guard.
Somebody in my position must then face the possibility that a finger
might be pointed in my direction. Some poor sissy Latino tells the
police that this was all against their will. The pretty hair, the waxed
body, the little tits forming - all of it was forced by the evil sea
captain. On the one occasion this happened before, the "I have never
seen this person before, I am a respected mariner, with a wife and
family" defense, worked like a dream. There are back up strategies as
well, so I needed to be prepared. I made sure that Stan was aware of
the issue well before we next docked at Laem Chabang.
Imagine my surprise when the moment we docked there, standing on the
quay waiting for the gangplank to come down, was Gabby!
Firstly, I felt relieved. She was alone. No police. Secondly I felt
elated. She could not bear to be without me. She needed my prick in
her pretty little asshole. She came back for me.
But when the steps were down, and I was still running the final checks,
I looked over and saw that she was being hugged and kissed by somebody
else. My first officer, Stan Jablowski.
I was sure that Stan was not of the same tastes as I was, and it turns
out that I was right. In the month that we were away Gabby had been
through the surgery to remove her small limp cock and fashion a vagina.
Apparently, Iris had told her that I would no longer be attracted to her
if she was not packing the bit extra. I would leave her alone.
That might be right, but there was still something about the sight of
that girl that made my heart ache. I mean my heart, not my prick.
But now she was Stan's. He had paid for everything. They wanted to get
married. Unlike others, I do not normally allow even my officers to
have wives or girlfriends aboard, but in the circumstances I thought it
better not to give them an excuse to make trouble for me. I had to
endure watching the woman I had largely created, being cuddled by
another, all the back cross the Pacific.
The truth is that I can hardly remember the others. Of the three Asian
ones I can only remember Lily, because she was such a screamer, during
sex or when I was bleeding her monthly. Then there were the two Indian
ones, and the Polynesian. What was her name? One accidental death, two
suicides, one disappearance, and the rest over the side. But no more
names or faces.
Gabby. That is the one I remember.
I will be in Panama in a week's time, so I will start looking. But my
guess is that I will find it difficult to come across one quite as
pretty as her.
The End
© Maryanne Peters 2019
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