Mike Sarandon was the skipper's boyfriend, a young Greek god in his twenties who rejoined the Island Adonis in New Caledonia after returning from a trip home to California to see his parents.

He and the skipper, Andrew Morgan, had served together aboard the USS Mapletown, a destroyer attached to the Seventh Fleet in the Western Pacific. It had been a difficult time for them, as they had to conduct their affair with the utmost secrecy, always fearful that they would be found out and discharged from the Navy, though ironically they were by no means the only gay "couple" on the Mapletown. However, like the thousands of other gay sailors in the US Navy, they had learnt how to stay below the radar.

Andrew Morgan had retired as a chief petty officer, buying the Island Adonis with his savings and his retirement payout, and Mike had joined him when he completed his four-year-term as a seaman at the age of twenty-two, a few months later. In the two years since then they had been successfully operating the Adonis as a cruise boat taking tourists on day and overnight trips around the South Pacific islands. A crew of young Aussie teenagers they recruited in Sydney ably assisted them.

The skipper was a gruff bear of a man in his early forties, extremely fit, with a toned thickset body. Mike, at twenty-four was taller by a couple of inches with a smooth, defined body, a head of thick curly black hair, and a swarthy complexion that betrayed his Greek origins. He trained regularly but never to excess, and as a result his body was in perfect proportion, like those of the ancient Greek gods of legend, from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist and his long legs with their muscular thighs and firm calves. His feet were elegant and not overly large, and most perfect of all was his bottom, his gluteus maximus, on which he had spent many long hours of hard work in the gym until it was broad and firm, with two superb quadrilateral mounds that formed his prominent buttocks. When he stretched it was with a lissom, feline grace that elongated the muscle, defining its shapeliness, and when he walked his bottom undulated with an easy, fluid rhythm that attested to his supreme fitness.

Daniel Hayley, Island Adonis's nineteen-year-old first officer, had a defined muscularity and a stronger physique, and he was ruggedly handsome in a masculine way, whereas Mike's features were more delicate, not feminine, but with a softer, more androgynous beauty. Both were extremely beautiful boys and there was much debate among the other guys in the crew about which was the better looking.

Eighteen-year-old Blake Tanner, who was himself one of the best looking boys on the ship, took one look at Mike Sarandon as he arrived back on the Island Adonis and vowed that he would have sex with him before the voyage was over – and the sooner the better. He confided his desire to Daniel who told him not to be a bloody idiot. Mike and the skipper were inseparable and the skipper was an extremely jealous man, who was given to fits of rage if he even thought that someone was making a play for his partner. They were an unlikely couple and the boys in the crew had dubbed them Beauty and the Beast, though never within the hearing of either of them.

As Daniel and Blake both knew from painful experience, Andrew Morgan was a harsh disciplinarian and the whip and the cane were two potent symbols of order aboard Island Adonis. Occasionally the skipper himself would dish out the punishments. More often the task would be delegated to Daniel who, as Blake had already found out, relished whipping a meaty young back and buttocks until the victim was screaming for mercy.

Blake, who had discovered a latent desire to receive corporal punishment, had demonstrated considerable fortitude when Daniel, acting on the skipper's orders, had given him fifteen lashes with a cat o'nine tails and followed it up with ten harsh strokes of the cane on his bare arse. That had been two weeks previously, and now he was again feeling a strange tingling of desire in his buttocks and across his broad shoulders whenever he thought about what it had been like tied to the mast with the beautiful Daniel, naked and with his massive stallion-sized cock proudly erect, lashing him with the whip and the cane. While he was receiving the punishment the pain had been unbearable, far worse than anything he had ever imagined possible, but now, perversely, he wanted to experience it again and Daniel's warnings of dire retribution from the skipper if he tried to seduce Mike, were not deterring him from his plans.

The tourist trade had been quiet in New Caledonia and the skipper had decided to head for Hawaii by way of American Samoa and Kiribati, a voyage that would give them a couple of long stretches at sea between ports and a break from having passengers on board, which would give the boys freedom to go naked on deck with no worry about who might see them. Blake particularly enjoyed the liberty of taking his shorts off and letting his big cock and balls swing free. Daniel too was relaxed when he could be nude, with his big horselike cock hanging down his thigh like a giant salami.

They were about a week out from Noumea when Blake decided to take a late walk around the deck before turning in. It was a magic night. The weather was calm with just enough wind to fill the sails and keep the Island Adonis slicing through the water at a reasonable speed. The full moon was a large silver ball low over the horizon, casting a brilliant swathe of white light across the water and painting a path for the brigantine to follow through the phosphorescent sea. The Island Adonis pitched as it parted the waves, the water slapping against the hull, and the timbers of the old ship creaking reassuringly as it moved effortlessly through the ocean.

Mike Saradon was lying naked on the forward hatch, hands behind his head, in silent contemplation of the stars. He looked round as Blake approached.

"Mind if I join you?"

Mike moved over to make room for Blake beside him.

"Go for it."

The two lay side by side in companionable silence, each rapt in his own thoughts, enjoying the spirituality of the moment.

A shooting star arced across the sky and they both laughed.

"You have to make a wish," Mike said, and Blake met his gaze full on, looking deeply into his eyes.

"Am I allowed to tell you?"

"Then it might not come true."

Blake raised himself on one elbow and continued to examine Mike's face.

"If I don't tell you, how will you know what I wished for?"

Mike was beginning to feel sexually aroused by Blake's nearness.

"I think I can guess," he said. He reached out a hand and put it on Blake's thigh and the younger boy leaned in towards him and kissed him on the lips. It was a fleeting kiss but it sent tremors of excitement through both of them and Blake, very conscious of Mike's hand so close to his cock, felt himself rapidly getting hard.

"Where's the skipper?" Blake whispered.

"Drunk." Mike sounded disgusted. "He polished off the best part of a bottle of Scotch and passed out. I doubt if he will surface before morning. He does that occasionally."

"Do you love him?"

Mike didn't hesitate.

"Yes. But that doesn't mean I can't play sometimes." As he said it he moved his hand slowly up Blake's thigh until it was touching his cock, which was now fully hard. He grasped it, wanking the younger boy's foreskin so that Blake shuddered.

"You've got a lovely cock," Mike whispered. "So big and hard."

"Do you want me to fuck you with it?"

"Yes."

Blake rolled over so that he was on top of Mike and began kissing him, a deep tongue kiss, their tongues duelling, and Mike began to rub his hands all over Blake's body, up and down his back, then locking his arms around him as they continued to kiss. They were both hard now, their erect cocks rubbing against each other, and Blake reached around to find Mike's hole with his fingers. It was dry, and he spat on his hand for lubricant, pressing into Mike until his fingers found lodgement. He spat again, and this time used it to rub into his throbbing cock that glistened in the moonlight, its big head distended and ready for action.

"Fuck me," Mike said. "Please. Fuck me now."

Blake didn't hesitate. He lined his big cock up against Mike's hole and then pushed forward, sliding smoothly in to probe his inner depths.

Mike sighed.

"So good," he said. "So fucking beautiful."

Blake began to settle into his rhythm, pulling out and then plunging back in hard, pulling out and plunging in, gradually increasing the pace until he was pummelling Mike's arse with an uncontrolled fury of passion.

As he fucked Mike hard and deeply, Blake kept his eyes fixed on the bottom boy's beautiful face, which was locked in an expression of total rapture.

"Harder," he whispered. "Fuck me harder," and Blake obliged by thrusting more deeply into Mike's willing arsehole.

Finally Blake reached his climax, spurting jet after creamy jet of his warm seed into the other boy's inner depths, thrusting himself hard into Mike with each eruption until he was spent, and he collapsed across the body of the boy underneath him.

That's how they were lying when the skipper found them, Mike splayed on his back, knees still in the air clutching Blake around his mid section, and Blake on top of him, his cock still in Mike's arse, both of them too exhausted to move or even to realise that they had been caught.

The skipper had a whip in his hand, which he slashed angrily into Blake's broad bottom.

"Get up!"

Blake leapt to his feet, rubbing his bottom where the skipper had whipped it.

"And you."

The skipper slashed the whip across Mike's muscled abdomen, and Mike too scrambled to his feet, the two young men standing shamefacedly in front of the skipper.

The skipper was pissed, his eyes bloodshot, and he swayed as he contemplated the two cowering figures in front of him.

"DANIEL!"

Daniel came running from below decks, taking in the scene and realised straight away what had happened.

He looked at Blake, shaking his head.

"You fucking idiot. You don't fucking listen to common sense, do you?"

"Tie them to the mast. Both of them." The skipper almost spat the words, then turned on his heel and went below.

Daniel tied them one each side of the mast so that their arms were around each other's back, which was the only way he could do it. He bound their wrists, then put another rope around their waists so they were immobilised. Unsure what to do next he sat down on a capstan and waited.

"We're going to be crucified," Mike said. He sounded terrified, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper. "He'll kill us."

Dawn came and the two of them were still tied to the mast. Daniel had tired of waiting for the skipper to come back and had gone below to his cabin. At sunrise he had roused the young sailors in the main cabin and chased them up to scrub the deck, which was their first task of the morning.

There was some excited murmuring among the boys about Mike and Blake's predicament. They had never seen the skipper's boyfriend in this situation before and they sensed rightly that it meant major trouble. They felt sorry for Blake, who was a popular member of the crew, and there was much speculation about what was going to happen to him.

The skipper came on deck mid morning and supervised a course correction with the sailor at the wheel, but ignored the two boys tied to the mast and once the Island Adonis was on its new bearing he went below again.

Mike and Blake were in a lot of discomfort after more than ten hours tied in the same position, unable to move, without even a drink of water. They were cramped and they were both desperate for a toilet. The worst part of it was knowing they were going to be whipped, and it was almost certainly going to be the most severe whipping that either of them had ever imagined in their worst nightmares.

Blake regretted that he had been craving another session with the whip. The whipping he was going to get was, he was sure, going to be far worse than anything he could imagine.

At mid-day the skipper allowed Daniel to untie them to go to the toilet and get a drink of water, but then they were tied again, and forced to remain in that position until about four o'clock when the skipper reappeared carrying a wicked looking bullwhip.

He had been drinking and he was unsteady on his feet. The young crewmen gave him a wide berth as he whirled the bullwhip around his head then cracked it loudly, laughing as they cowered away from him.

"Cowards. Are you yellow?"

He turned to Blake and Mike.

"What about you scum. Are you yellow, or are you going to take what's coming to you?"

"Andrew, you don't have to do this," Mike said. "We can talk."

"Talk?"

The skipper spat contemptuously.

"What about? How you lay there like a tart and let this scumbag fuck you up the arse? How you were panting for it like some little ten dollar back street whore in Manila?"

"I wanted you, Andrew. You weren't there for me."

"So you went and fucked the first bit of trash you could find?"

"I'm sorry."

"You're going to be sorry. You're going to be sorry you ever lived. You and your scumbag boyfriend."

Daniel was ordered to untie them and then reposition Mike as the first of the two to be whipped. His arms were stretched in front of him and his wrists tied together so that his body was held tightly against the mast. He was a magnificent sight with his broad back and his incredible arse with its firm, shapely mounds, stretched tightly as he was forced to lean forward to hold his position.

The skipper laid the first stroke across his broad shoulders. There was a whistling sound as the whip sliced through the air and then the crack of it striking firm flesh.

Mike grunted but he didn't cry out and the skipper let fly with a second fearful stroke that slashed into Mike's back millimetres below the first. Again Mike grunted and again he took the stroke without crying out. He took fifteen like that, grunting, gasping for breath, but without making any other sound. It was an incredibly stoic performance and the watching boys shook their heads in silent admiration.

Mike found the next five strokes harder to cope with. He was still trying to be manful but the pain was becoming unbearable and he doubted his ability to take much more and he couldn't help letting out a small cry each time the whip hit him.

Blake, watching, and knowing that he would be next to be whipped, was getting an erection. He couldn't help himself. He knew this whipping was likely to be far worse than his whipping from Daniel with the cat o'nine tails but still he was excited. His back was tingling almost as if he were experiencing an electric shock but he knew it was his craving to feel pain and he prayed that he would be able to handle it.

After Mike had taken thirty strokes with the bullwhip he was barely conscious, but the skipper showed no sign of letting up.

"Stop. He's had enough!"

Blake had stepped forward and positioned himself between the skipper and his whipped lover who was slumped against the mast.

It was an act of incredible bravery, and incredible foolhardiness.

Angrily the skipper tried to push him aside but Blake stood firm.

"No, skipper. He's had enough. If you want to give him any more, give them to me. It was my fault we had sex as much as his."

The skipper looked at him, eyes blazing with fury.

"You impudent little cur!"

Blake was terrified, but bravely he stood his ground.

"You're a big man, skipper. Now prove it. Admit Mike's taken enough and whip me instead."

The skipper was a violent man and he was drunk. There was no telling what he would do in the frame of mind he was in. He clenched his fist as if he was going to strike Blake, but then thought better of it. And then, surprisingly, he threw the whip down and put his arm around Blake, embracing him.

"You're a gutsy little bastard. There's not many men would stand up to me like that."

The skipper had Mike untied and began to lead him down to their cabin where no doubt some serious talking would take place. Neither Daniel nor Blake quite knew what to do next. Was the punishment over? But then the skipper reappeared at the top of the companionway where he had taken Mike.

"Blake wants to take the rest of Mike's punishment. Give him thirty." With that he was gone, and the watchers on deck were left stunned.

Daniel was the first to react.

"We'd better do it," he said. "Get yourself in position, dude."

Blake stood up close to the mast and Daniel tied his wrists tightly, immobilising him. Thirty with the bullwhip was going to be one hell of an ordeal but Mike had just taken it, and Blake was determined to do his best. He was grateful that it was Daniel, and not the skipper who would be whipping him, and perhaps afterwards they would be able to go to Daniel's cabin to work off the sexual high they would both experience. Daniel was already hard, his massive cock rigid and throbbing with its virility as it slapped up against his muscled stomach.

Daniel swung the whip in a wide circle above his head and then lashed it into Blake's back with a brutal force, twice, three, four times, and Blake took each stroke with no more than a grunt.

Blake was a healthy boy and his back had healed surprisingly well from his previous whipping with the cat o'nine tails. It had been an ordeal, but it had toughened him and though this whipping was just as agonisingly painful he felt that he would be able to handle it.

He got to fifteen strokes before his resolve began to crumble. The pain was unbearable and though he had managed to get that far into the punishment without crying, he realised that he was only half way. With a superhuman effort and calling on every ounce of willpower that he had, he was able to get to twenty without crying out but then he fell apart. The thought of ten more cruel, agonising strokes of the whip was just more than he could bear. He wanted to plead with Daniel to stop the awful punishment but his pride wouldn't let him.

"You can take it," he told himself, gritting his teeth. "It's only ten more."

He formed a mental image of a brick wall and began counting the bricks.

"Nine."

He was taking it.

"Eight."

The brick wall was crumbling and so was his resolve.

Seven to go. He couldn't take it.

"No!" He screamed it out but Daniel was relentless, the whip slashing into his muscled back.

"Six more."

He couldn't take it. No man could take this amount of pain.

Five.

Four.

And then he was nearly there. He actually relished those last four strokes. The pain was excruciating, but he didn't care. He'd done it.

There was a burst of applause from Blake's watching shipmates as Daniel untied him and took him into his arms for a hug.

"Next time I tell you not to fuck the skipper's boyfriend perhaps you'll listen," he said, ruffling Blake's hair and giving him a kiss. "Now get down to my cabin and wait for me."

Blake needed no second bidding and when Daniel got there he was already lubed up and ready.

He grabbed Daniel by his enormous cock and pulled him close. His eyes were glazed and he was still on a sexual high from the whipping. He couldn't believe that he had taken it and in a perverse way, as painful as it was, that he had actually enjoyed it.

His mind kept replaying the image of his proud young body tied to the mast, of Daniel, naked, muscles glistening with sweat, swinging the bullwhip and lashing it into his broad back, and the pain of each stroke as it hit him, searing into his flesh, agonising, yet at the same time strangely exciting.

He began rubbing Daniel's big cock and the older boy responded.

"I want this up me," he whispered. "I want you to stretch my arse."

Daniel pushed him forward onto the bunk and began to enter him, his massive cock thrusting through the tight ring of Blake's sphincter and then plunging deeper into his arse.

Blake sighed, wriggling his arse to get more comfortable as Daniel ploughed into him, pushing back against Daniel's groin to make sure that he was in as far as he could go.

When it was over Blake was lost somewhere in a tranquil sea of pleasure. He had been whipped painfully and he had been fucked hard, but he felt totally fulfilled, as if it was meant to be.

And he knew it wouldn't be long before he would need more.