Fisherman's friend

The little boat hummed softly as Jill guided it along the jagged coastline, the outboard motor coughing occasionally, threatening to give out. Her eyes scanned the horizon, searching for signs of life anything. A building. A buoy. A dock.

Nothing but rocky cliffs and the blue grey shimmer of the sea.

The sun was relentless overhead. With each passing minute, its heat deepened the flush across Jill’s pale skin. Her cheeks were pink, her chest blotched. Her breasts high, full, and exposed ached under the direct rays. Her nipples, usually hidden from view, had gone tender, overly sensitive.

She winced when the wind caught them just right.

But something else gnawed at her.

A low hum in her belly. A tingle between her thighs. Jill squirmed on the cracked fibreglass seat, trying to ignore the fact that every bump of the waves made her skin more raw… and her clit more alert.

What the hell is wrong with me? she thought, gritting her teeth. I was kidnapped. Humiliated. Touched. Threatened. I should be angry. I should be scared.

Instead, she was unbearably wet.

Horny, even.

The thought repulsed her but also intrigued her. The sensations wouldn’t stop. A cruel itch had settled beneath her skin. She didn’t recognise her own body.

Eventually, salvation appeared.

A crooked jetty jutted out from the shore ahead, beside a scattering of weather beaten buildings. No more than a tiny fishing hamlet but it was enough. Jill guided the boat in and cut the motor. She tied off the line, then, with a soft grunt, leapt into the waist deep water and waded ashore.

Her tall, athletic frame rose from the sea like a siren. Long blonde hair soaked and dripping. A sheen of seawater across her naked, sun warmed skin. Her breasts bounced with each purposeful step.

A man stood at the edge of the jetty short, bow-legged, holding a net of shellfish. His mouth dropped open.

“You a... mermaid?” he asked, voice cracking.

Jill smiled without warmth. “Yeah. And this mermaid needs a phone. Now.”

He pointed, dumbly, toward the nearest building. Jill walked barefoot across the worn boards and pushed through the door.

To her surprise, it wasn’t an office it was a pub. Dimly lit, walls lined with nautical junk, and just three fishermen nursing pints at rough wooden tables.

When she walked in, every pint froze mid air. In a strong determined voice said "I need a telephone, now"

The bartender mid-fifties, wide-eyed but professional took a beat, then slid an old corded phone across the bar.

“I need to call the police,” she said. She made no effort to cover herself.

As she dialled, the room stayed completely still.

“999, what’s your emergency?”

Jill gave her naked and collar number the operator took it and Jill demanded to be put through to her home station.

Seconds later, a familiar voice picked up. “Jill? That you? Jesus, where’ve you been?”

“Kasey,” Jill said, her voice cracking, finally a thread of emotion slipping in. “I’ve been kidnapped. Locked in a box. I escaped... I’m at a fishing port somewhere. I don’t know the name.”

Her voice trembled. “I’m… I’m completely naked. I think something’s wrong with me.”

There was a pause.

“Okay, love. You’re safe now. We’ve got your location. Car’s en route. Hang in there.”

Jill hung up and muttered, “Shit. I forgot to ask for clothes.”

She turned slowly. Every eye in the room was still locked on her. Her skin prickled—not from the cool sea air, but from their gaze. Her nipples had hardened again, and she could feel the heat blooming in her core.

God. It’s worse now.

She moved to a dark corner of the pub and pressed her hand discreetly between her thighs. Her fingers came away slick. She inhaled sharply.

I need... I need something. Now.

She turned back toward the men.

“Alright,” she said, voice loud, sultry. “Who do I have to fuck to get a drink in this place?”

A beat of silence then a young sailor at the bar raised his hand sheepishly.

“You don’t have to... I mean, I’ll buy you one.”

Jill smiled.

He brought her a pint. She downed it in one long gulp, licking her lips afterward. Her eyes sparkled with something darker now lust, hunger, defiance.

She leaned close.

“You won’t fuck me,” she murmured, “but would you let me suck your cock?”

The sailor choked on his drink.

Jill didn’t wait for an answer. “Somewhere quiet... or right here on the bar?”

He stumbled to his feet, red faced. “This way. I... I know a place.”

They exited into the back alley. The stares from the other patrons followed them until the door slammed shut.

Behind the pub, tucked between two salt-rusted sheds, was a small boathouse. Inside: ropes, crates, darkness.

Jill pushed the young man against the wall and fell to her knees, pulling at his belt. He gasped as she freed his cock already swelling, thickening rapidly in her hands.

“Can I... at least get your name?” he asked, voice breathless.

Jill looked up, licking a drop of pre-cum from his tip.

“No. Now fuck me.”

He barely had time to respond before she climbed atop him, straddling his lap on the floorboards. She guided him into her slick, aching cunt and sank down with a cry of relief.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he gasped.

She rode him hard like her life depended on it. His hands grasped her hips, but he didn’t control the rhythm. She did.

In the distance, sirens wailed.

Jill threw her head back and moved faster. She leaned forward, kissed him deeply and then he groaned, pulsing inside her.

She didn’t climax. But she felt... lighter. Her thoughts cleared. The fog that had clung to her mind began to lift.

Jill climbed off, not a drop leaking from between her legs. She stood, still naked, and looked down at the sailor, now panting and speechless.

She spotted an old fisherman’s coat hanging on a hook. She grabbed it, pulling it around her shoulders as she turned to leave.

“I think I love you,” the sailor called after her,

She didn’t answer.

The police car screeched up just as she stepped into the sunlight. She yanked the coat tight around her body only to exhale in relief when she saw two women step out.

One handed her a silver emergency blanket. “Here,” she said gently. “Let’s cover you up.”

Jill wrapped it around her hips like a makeshift skirt. “Take me to the hospital. I think something’s wrong with me.”

They ushered her into the back seat.

The car peeled away, blue lights flashing, sirens cutting through the sea breeze. One officer looked back at her.

“We’ve got officers at the warehouse,” she said. “Some of the men have been arrested. Two other women were rescued. But... Jackie, Terry, and Trevor got away.”

Jill clenched her jaw.

The car sped inland.

In the backseat, she felt the heat rising in her again. The ache.

What is happening to me?

And deep down, something whispered this wasn’t just lust.

It was something else.