Hawaii

“Everyone, look! I’ve got their tops!”

There was laughter at the luau as the impish Polynesian girl danced safely around to the other side of the fire, poking her tongue out at the two red-faced hula dancers who stood with bare feet on the sand, now in nothing but grass skirts. Fiona and Evelyn cast **** glances as they raised their arms and wiggled their hips to the ukelele’s twanging music, surrounded on all sides by dozens of rugged sailor girls and their new island friends.

“Throw them in the fire,” ordered Esmeralda Hong, captain of the Suffering Sappho, and grinned as her order was obeyed. Fiona bit her lip as her coconut bra was consumed by flames, feeling the warm sun on the slopes of her creamy bare breasts. “Aren’t you lovely, girls? Isn’t Hawaii a wonderful place?”

The crimson-cheeked Englishwoman shot her captor a dirty look. She and Evelyn, her worst enemy, stood side by side on a pristine Hawaiian beach, a paradise of white sand, green jungle and blue water, at the centre of a riotous party. A whole pig was being roasted. Flower necklaces had been placed round the giggling sailors’ necks by their grinning, suntanned hosts, natives from a nearby village with tattoos and wraps of colourful cloth. It would have been perfect if they’d been guests, and not the entertainment.

“Don’t stop dancing, girls! I thought I saw you slow down there for a minute!”

It had been a long trip across the Pacific. The last traces of land had long since sunk below the horizon, and the Suffering Sappho was left to carve its lonely trail across the endless, rolling blue waves. On the third day out, a pod of whales had been spotted off the starboard bow, but there’d been no excitement since then.

It might even have been boring, if not for the presence of Fiona and Evelyn. They’d been brought aboard expressly to liven things up a bit for the steamship’s all-female crew, who were famed across the Pacific as much for their physical prowess as for their **** beauty and dominant lesbian tendencies. In their first hour aboard, they’d been bent over barrels on the forecastle and gang-spanked by the entire crew, then handed mops and instructed to swab the deck until it gleamed. Without use of their hands.

Fiona and Evelyn found swabbing the deck on all fours, naked, breasts swaying beneath them, mop heads clutched in their teeth, while sailor-girls leered at them and made lewd suggestions, to be exceedingly humiliating. It was a bitter insult to their dignity, and both the proud Englishwomen disliked it intensely.

Among the other bitter insults they despised were dancing the hornpipe naked, reciting lewd maritime poetry, having their favours gambled for, licking the pussy of any sailor girl who demanded it and being **** to spend their nights wrapped up together in a single hammock. Also, all the sailor girls were allowed to grope and squeeze the Englishwomen’s bare breasts and buttocks whenever they wanted, and had the temerity to laugh at Lady Evelyn when she demanded they stop.

Yes, all things considered, Fiona and Evelyn had found their stay aboard the Suffering Sappho to be a touch uncomfortable. They’d harboured hopes of escaping when they reached Hawaii, but it was not to be. Instead, they’d been commandeered as dancing hula girls at a party, with a hard spanking and three nights of strong bondage at stake if they refused to comply.

And now they were topless hula girls! It was a subject of some debate among the native villagers and the sailor girls as to whether Fiona had better breasts than Evelyn, or vice versa, but all agreed the ladies both looked splendid in their new herbaceous attire. The frustrated Englishwomen had **** but to keep dancing, of course, no matter how naked their tits were many people happened to be watching them.

And, by sheer misfortune, the grass skirts happened to be not very well constructed. So, one by one, as the girls danced, the long strands of grass that sheathed their legs and hips began to drop away, one by one, exposing more and more of the ladies’ luscious lower halves with every fugitive blade. Fiona and Evelyn were well aware this was going on, of course, but it’s not like there was anything they could do about it. They just had to keep gyrating and shimmying as their skirts fell away with maddening slowness, exposing teasing glimpses of thigh and peeps of silky black or golden pubic hair.

Until, finally, after a prolonged luau, the two girls found themselves hula-dancing naked for hundreds of people to see, with nothing to cover their modesty but garlands of flowers around their waists.

The bare-naked Englishwomen felt their faces burn with shame as they wiggled and jiggled before sailors, villagers, missionaries, naturalists, sugar-cane farmers, wandering Japanese traders and other miscellaneous folk who’d found themselves in that part of the Hawaiian islands at just that particular moment, all of whom seemed to be having a wonderful time. Fiona and Evelyn both wished they could sink into the sand, but instead they had to keep on dancing naked in the middle of the party with everyone laughing at them. How humiliating! And there was nothing they could do to get away.

“A toast,” cried Esmerelda Hong, raising her glass of rum, her hungry eyes fixed on Fiona’s sweat-slick body. “To fancy English ladies, and the confoundment thereof!”

“Huzzah!”