Part 2 - Playing on the beach

The morning came and Celia came to herself. Her position had not mysteriously changed during the night. Both she and Natasha were still bound, still spread-eagled and still in exactly the same position. The difference was the grey haired, old man had returned and was standing down at the foot of the bed and looking, looking between their legs. Behind him were the two men, once more dark suited and impassive.

Celia felt paralysed as if she could do nothing without instruction from the old man. Of course she desperately needed to wee but she could say nothing - neither ask permission nor release the pressure in her bladder. Probably Natasha felt the same. It would perhaps have been good to release a stream of urine at the men and shown what she thought of them. But they might actually have liked that and joined in. Not a good prospect, but the prospect for the day was probably not good in any case.

"I see you were busy last night." He was not addressing Celia or Natasha

"Yes, sir."

"You seem to have done well."

"Thank you, sir. We tried."

Could the old man see? Could he see a leakage between their thighs?

"Well, yes; good morning girls," he turned to them. "I think, having had a good sleep, it is time for you to have your bath and then we can have breakfast on the veranda. Then, perhaps, you can both go and play on the beach."

Their bonds were loosened. Celia happy to stand and hide what was between her legs from the men. Natasha was hopping from one leg to the other. It was clear what she needed to do.

"Come," the old man said, taking each by a hand and leading them to the bathroom. Celia found she could move, could do what the old man said.

It was a lovely bathroom, big, tiled and very well appointed. But what really caught her eye - and Celia could see Natasha's as well - was the lavatory. The need to wee was almost excruciating.

The old man reached, put the plug in the bath and turned on the taps. Water gushed from the taps and gurgled into the bath. The sound of running, rushing hot and cold water. Just not what girls or, indeed, boys want to hear when 'desperate' - not at all! Celia was surprised, the way, Natasha was still hopping from one foot to the other not to see a sudden release - a wetting of the floor. But like her, it seemed Natasha could do nothing. The old man had not said they could sit on the lavatory or anything.

The water splashed on into the bath. It was agony.

"Right girls, go and have a wee. I know how you girls like to do that together.

He turned away towards the wash basin. Natasha looked at Celia and she signalled for Natasha to 'go' first, Celia had not really meant to but her eyes just followed Natasha across the room and saw even before her bottom hit the seat the thick stream of wee rushing from her. The relief on Natasha's pretty face a delight.

The man appeared to be getting his shaving things but Celia could see he was actually watching, watching Natasha in the mirror.

It was not easy waiting for Natasha - she seemed never to stop but then, at last, it was her turn; Celia's turn to flop down on the lavatory and empty her bulging bladder. Such a relief even if the old man was watching her. Such a relief.

The bath half full and steaming.

The old man turned off the taps and beckoned to the girls. "In you get and I want to see proper washing not just playing. Tabitha, you wash Emily-Sue and Emily-Sue you wash Tabitha. Properly mind and front and back bottoms. Tabitha - you can sit at the plug hole end today."

Celia stood. She felt so much better. So much better for emptying her bladder but now she had to wash her friend. Ordinarily she... but this was anything but ordinary; ordinarily she would not have dreamt of being in a bath with another girl but now... now she rather liked the idea of running soapy hands over Natasha's pretty black skin and washing her. Natasha's eyes caught hers and her hand came up to help Celia into the bath. The touch was something special. They were moving from being acquaintances to friends. A shared adversity is always a bonding experience. They had already shared adversity but also a surprising intimacy in the dark. Celia could not forget she had rather liked it - did Natasha feel the same? Their eyes held for a moment or two and then they both stepped into the bath.

At the washbasin the old man had divested himself of his dressing gown and was preparing to shave. The mention of the 'beach' brought back to Celia the conversations on the train. Was the old man continuing the ludicrous fantasy of she and Natasha being grand-daughters or was it nieces or perhaps daughters of friends coming to stay at the old man's beach house and him not noticing they had grown somewhat? A fantasy, though, only part of the time. You did not tie up you nieces or your friends' daughters nor allow your colleagues to... do things. Nor did you join young girls in the bathroom naked and watch them pee.

He turned to them, his face covered in shaving foam and his genitalia exposed for them to see - just hanging there in front of him, "Come on girls get on with your washing."

Celia looked at Natasha and they sat down in the water, their legs alternate. The water was lovely - and so was Natasha sitting there in front of her. Such a pretty face, such lovely hair, such rounded breasts with her dark, dark nipples. Celia's eyes dropped to Natasha's mons with the dark hair so straight. She could see it all beneath the water and her slit just so clear. She looked up and realised Natasha had been watching her and knew where Celia's eyes had been looking. Celia was embarrassed.

Natasha picked up the soap and began washing Celia's feet. It was nice both feeling and watching her brown fingers at work. Her leg was lifted, soapy hands were on her calf and then knee. A lovely soft feeling. Gentle hands on her skin. She caught Natasha looking between her thighs. Her leg a little lifted and parted and Natasha so clearly looking not at her leg but her sex. They had already rubbed their sexes together but were now about to touch each other intimately with their fingers whilst washing. All of a sudden Celia realised that sometime soon it would not just be Natasha's fingers at her sex or her own fingers at Natasha's but they would be 'kissing' each other down there - and the awful thing was, she wanted that. It was not going to be something forced on them - it would be voluntary. What had happened to her? What had the old man done?

The old man came closer and stood watching them. It would have been easier to know what he was thinking had he been able to achieve an erection but it seemed from the night before that was beyond him. Sexual excitement, orgasm and ejaculation were a different matter but his penis hanging at eye level right in front of Celia and Natasha betrayed nothing. Not a twitch. He could be worked up into a frenzy of excitement and they would not know it. All of a sudden the penis might just drip, drip, drip translucent semen into the bathwater - there was no telling.

The man, though, returned to his shaving. No doubt watching them in the mirror. Celia too picked up the soap and began lathering Natasha. Her fingers touching the lovely brown skin.

It was a mutual decision. What order do you wash a friend? It is rather simpler when washing yourself! From legs they moved to torso and it just happened that they found themselves soaping each other's breasts together. So nice having her hands on the smooth mounding of Natasha's breasts and feeling the hardness of her nipples. The old man might not have an erection but Celia could feel just how hard her own nipples were and see and feel Natasha's. So nice to feel them in the palms of her hands as she soaped and - yes - fondled the twin mounds. They were looking into each other's eyes and biting their lips.

"Front and back bottoms." The old man had finished his shaving and was applying cologne.

Natasha and Celia knelt, each facing the other and soaped up their hands. A nod from Natasha and they touched each other. One hand on Natasha's dark, slicked back hair; another, Natasha's, on Celia's own springy blond bush; each with a forefinger feeling for and sliding in their slits.

"Come on girls, breakfast awaits."

He was close by them, still naked, still flaccid, but his eyes were watching closely.

They got on with it. Hands washing each other's pudenda and bottom as if it was their own - doing just such a normal thing - only it wasn't, it wasn't their own bodies.

The man watched all they did and then turned and picked up shorts and shirt.

"Get yourself ready and then on the veranda and we'll have a nice breakfast." He turned to the door and then looked back. To Celia it seemed he was thinking of something. "Come on, get out and get dried." He watched them stand and then nodded to himself.

It seemed to Celia that as soon as the old man was out of the room she felt freer but her and Natasha's freedom to perhaps touch a little more was immediately ended by the door re-opening and the two dark suited men entering. They both smiled at the sight of the two girls standing in the bath water.

An intake of breath from Natasha. Were they about to be treated the same as the night before?

"Mr Levinson would like you to shave."

But girls do not... oh! Celia all of a sudden knew what was required.

"Shall we leave you to it or would you like..."

"We'll do it." Celia was quick. There was no point arguing. She could imagine if they refused then they would be so easily bound, so easily bound in an undignified way and the men would have no difficulty with the razor and she could imagine their thick fingers everywhere and probably at the end of it all not just their fingers. She could imagine just what their idea of after shave lotion would be.

Natasha and Celia found themselves alone, standing still in the bath water. Instinctively they hugged; breast to breast; wet skin to wet skin.

The door reopened, "And hurry up."

The knowing smile from the man was not pleasing.

The door closed and a quick kiss, lips to lips. "Come on, we'd better do it," said Natasha.

The razor had been left on the washbasin, the shaving cream was there, there was hot water and towels aplenty and scissors in the cupboard. Natasha working first as Celia lay back on the floor and opened herself to her friend and then it was her turn; her turn to snip the lovely hair away, apply the cream and slide away with the razor. How pretty she thought Natasha's exposed sex was. The lovely soft dark fringed flaps of her labia minora, the wet pinkness, her little pee hole, the little stand of her clitoris together with the special entrance to her body that had been so rudely invaded by the two men's thick penes the night before. It all looked so kissable. Celia bent her head...

"Are you girls ready? Tabitha, Emily-Sue? Oh yes, very nice; very nice indeed."

Where before Natasha and Celia had displayed fine womanly bushes there was now not a hint even of down. The girls were as hairless as, well, schoolgirls. Their fine womanly breasts gave a very different impression but...

A gentle pat to their buttocks. "Now put these on, you need to be dressed for the table and come to breakfast."

'These' were not clothes, were not swimming costumes, were not bikinis or even bikini bottoms but small striped towels. Enough to go around the waist and almost to the knee but nothing more.

Natasha and Celia followed the men wearing just towels as skirts and bare breasted. At least it did not make them look too little girlish but Celia was sure that would not last.

They came out blinking into the sunshine of a glorious summer's day. They were indeed by the sea, the sands stretched out to the blue of the water with the waves coming one after another to the shore. On the veranda a table laid for breakfast - cereals, fruit, fruit juice, toast and marmalade, tea and coffee - it was all so very ordinary and most pleasant, or would have been had the girls had any clue where they were and had not been abducted.

Of course she and Natasha were hungry. Of course they ate and drank. There was plenty to eat and they did. They knew better than to get up from the table without asking. They were getting the idea of the old man's game readily enough.

"You can go and play now - yes on the beach."

It certainly looked lovely. Celia got up and Natasha followed. There were wooden steps down, right onto the sand of the beach.

"Don't forget your sun hats."

Two big straw hats with strings to go under the chin were hanging ready. Celia put one on and stepped downwards.

"Leave you towels here Tabitha and Emily-Sue. We don't want them getting all sandy."

That was ridiculous, thought Celia, towels always got sandy on a beach! What he meant was he wanted to see the girls naked, see them walking naked on the sand - and no doubt take in their newly shaved nakedness. Celia dropped her towel - not just anywhere but on the sand - and very deliberately turned to the old man so he could see all of her.

"Emily-Sue, pick up that towel and come here."

It had been easy at breakfast but suddenly she felt an iron grip of control. There was nothing she could do but walk back up the steps in just her hat and come right up to the old man. She could not resist his command.

"That was very naughty - and so early in the day!"

Celia felt like what she was meant to feel - the naughty schoolgirl standing in front of the teacher whilst she was told off. Only it was not normal to stand there stark naked.

"You may say sorry."

And Celia found not only could she say it but she had to say it. "Sorry."

"That's better. I won't spank you because it is the first day of the holiday but, Emily-Sue, I expect better. Off you go now and play."

Celia knew the old man was watching her as she walked away; knew he would be watching her bottom and thinking about spanking it. Spanking was going to happen: she was sure of it.

The two girls walked out onto the sand and out towards the sea. Natasha gripped Celia's hand - the reassurance felt good. The further they walked the less controlled Celia felt, the less she felt the influence of the old man.

"Oh, Celia, this is so awful. How did it happen? Who is that awful old man?"

"I don't know; I don't understand any of it - well, I understand we are being played with. I mean, what are we meant to do now? Build sand castles? Collect pebbles? Go for a swim?"

"I... we, we were just walking and then the men..."

"I hardly remember anything, just a hand over my mouth and..."

"Oh, I remember. A man had got you and you were just dropping but I bit the other man - it was one of those minders I'm sure - and almost got away. I'll give myself credit. I put up some struggle. He'd dropped the pad - I could smell the chloroform still on his hand. He gagged me with it so I couldn't scream and held me so tight with the other arm I could hardly breathe. But I was fighting him - well until you were out cold and the other man was free to pick up the chloroformed pad. I still fought, but it was no good, Celia, there were two of them."

"Must have been awful."

"The last thing I remember was the first man still hugging me tight and me thinking - he's enjoying this - that's his fucking erection I can feel pressing against me in his jeans."

"Oh, Natasha..."

"I was so scared and to feel that... I knew what was coming... And don't we know it now!"

They stood in the water, the little waves breaking over their ankles. It was actually rather lovely. In other circumstances...

They looked back at the beach house, at the old man in the distance, there on his veranda, reading a newspaper. They looked along the open sands of the beach. They were in a bay and a very wide bay at that - the sands stretched on and on, virtually deserted. There were a few figures in the distance perhaps walking, perhaps fishing.

"Perhaps if we swim a bit and just sort of gradually swim down the beach a bit and then run like anything. We can escape!"

"Like this?"

"Better seen naked than imprisoned for who knows what to happen. We have no idea what they will do."

The water was not cold. The girls were happy to swim but not back and forth - rather their plan was to move down the beach. Slowly but surely they were moving away from the beach house. And they felt themselves again. Free of the influence of the old man.

"Now!" Said Natasha.

Splashing they made their way out of the water and then they were running, running away down the sand, their limbs working. Celia turned a little to see Natasha, saw how her ebony skin shone in the sunlight, saw the drops of water from the sea all over her body and her beautiful breasts bounding. As she watched Natasha's hands came up to restrain them.

They were making their escape!

Escape? No, Celia looked further behind her and there, running after them down the beach, were the two minders and they were running fast!

"Natasha, they're coming."

It is best when running not to look behind you, not to see how the other competitors are doing but concentrate on your own running. After all, you might trip if you don't look where you are going.

Celia stared ahead. Surely they would reach some other people soon. People who would ask why two girls were running naked down a beach chased by two naked men - for the men did not even have beach shorts on. If she looked behind she could see their penes bounding and jumping around.

It was not that they exactly tripped over something when looking behind: there was nothing on the beach to do that. Rather they managed to come too close and trip each other up. They went flying and of course the men were up to them in seconds before they could get to their feet. A jumble of naked girls. To be fair, the men would have caught them before they reached people and help. They were not really the cause of their own recapture.

Celia and Natasha looked upwards, squinting against the sun. The two men, who they thought of as 'the minders,' standing over them wearing just dark glasses and grinning.

"Out for a little run, for some exercise?" They were hardly breathing faster than normal. The men were clearly fit, clearly used to vigorous exercise.

As the girls watched the men's penes began to grow. It was an unusual view, a view from below; a view up at naked men, strong, muscled and well built men; a view giving unusual prominence to the men's slackly hanging balls, warmed by the sun; above the hanging testes their large penes were pumping upwards. The men moved, their balls swung and in unison - the same thought coming to the girls at the same time - the girls kicked. Hard stabs from their feet aimed at the men's weakness, their soft dangling testes. A well aimed kick could incapacitate the men leaving the girls free to make their escape.

Two well aimed kicks would have done the job - or should have. They were well aimed, the girl's aim was faultless but so was the men's reaction speed - each foot caught and restrained before toes could stab into the soft scrotums.

The men just laughed and began pulling the girls along the sand by just the one foot. They were strong men, there was nothing the girls could do; they just had to accept being dragged through the sand and still being wet from the sea it stuck to them and, worse, being dragged foot first the sand was getting where sand always does get on the beach - in between legs - but not just a little sand! Their 'pussies' were literally being pulled into the soft, dry sand, it was mounding up over them and getting 'everywhere.'

The men turned and laughed at their sand covered bodies - and, clearly, it did nothing to make their penes go down. Celia had been expecting to be fucked but perhaps the sand would make them safe from that - the men would hardly want to feel their penes rasping against all that sand! It was not comfortable though.
All the way back they were dragged - though after a time the men found it easier dragging them by both legs.

The old man was waiting down near the sea. He was sitting in a deck chair under a parasol with dark glasses and a panama hat on - but nothing else.

"Hallo Tabitha and Emily-Sue. Did you enjoy your swim and running? How sandy you have got! See how right I was about the towels. Have the boys been burying you in the sand?"

There were spades for building sandcastles dug into the sand.

Celia shook her head and looked at the two men. Hardly boys, not with the twin whoppers of erections they were sporting. She was in a way surprised they had not been shaved to complete the nonsense fantasy that she and Natasha were little girls and they were little boys: but they had not and were actually very hairy. Not at all like little boys. Very much the mature male, and clearly very potent. Their penes had not subsided.

The old man pretended to notice the erections. "Oh don't worry about those, Emily-Sue, it's just little boys and their willies when they want to do a wee. So silly; aren't you little girls so much neater. Do you want to do a wee, girls? You can bob down on the sand if you like. There's nobody coming along; no one is going to see you."

They shook their heads.

"Boy's you'd better go and relieve yourselves in the sea or, well if you have to. I suppose the girls won't mind..."

Celia almost did not know where to look - or would not had it been a more normal circumstance. The two men just let fly. Strong streams arcing from the ends of their large and very firm erections - true parabolic curves glinting and sparkling in the sunshine. And the men turning as they did so, the bright streams coming closer and closer to the girls. This was surely not the way they were going to have the sand washed away?

"Boys!" It was a command from the old man. "Don't be silly!"

Easy for Celia to imagine. So easy. Had the old man not been there the twin streams could, so easily, have been used to 'power wash' the sand from their 'pussies' and made them ready again for intercourse. The twin hot streams of piss making short work of the sand, leaving them wet, dripping and available. Power washing all the sand away. Celia could imagine that. But with the old man there the streams trailed off just leaving damp marks in the sand.

"Good. Well, girls, if you don't want to - even after that unnecessary display - let's see the boys bury you. That is always fun. Do you remember last year? Lie down."

Celia had no option. She had to do as she was told. The men working away to cover them with sand, patting down the sand making it all so neat. It was not a new experience to Celia any more than it probably was to Natasha but to have two naked and so well endowed men doing the job - well that was new.

The old man smiled at the progress.

In the distance Celia could see figures coming closer. It was not missed on the minders or the old man. Covered in sand from neck to toe Celia watched the two minders casually saunter into the sea whilst the old man simply laid his newspaper over his thighs.

It was a young mother and her little boy. The boy thought it just so funny that Natasha and Celia were buried in the sand and said so. The young mother stopped to talk to the old man.

"We've been imprisoned and..." Celia began.

"Emily-Sue! Sssh, we are talking."

And Celia found her power of speech had just gone.

"My nephews," he waved at the minders standing waist deep in the water, hiding their nakedness, and they waved back. "Have certainly imprisoned Emily-Sue and Tabitha in the sand."

The little lad had picked up a spade and was shovelling more sand on and laughing.

The young mother laughed, "So I see. Such fun down by the sea!"

The conversation continued for a few minutes but then the woman took her boy by the hand and wandered off down the beach. The boy chattering away to her and picking up pebbles and sea shells to show her.

They had not gone far before the minders came back out of the water. Celia watched the water running down their naked bodies and was amused, insofar as the awfulness of Natasha and her predicament allowed, to see how shrunk their penes were from the cool water. It had cooled their earlier ardour!

As is normal when buried in sand, the two men sat on the girls. sat astride them.

"Now mind you don't squash the girls. You boys are bigger than them."

They were rather. It was a bit of a weight on her chest. Celia was breathing with a little difficulty. She wanted to tell them to get off but could not speak.

"Egh, egh, ouff," she went as her mouth opened and closed.

The old man was watching. "I do like an ice cream on the beach or a lollipop. Look what the kind boys have gone and bought you each - a lollipop. Now lick it nice and daintily like little ladies should."

The minder on her chest lifted himself a little, allowing her to breath. What? She thought. There was no lollipop there. And then she realised what the old man meant. Crouched over her sand covered chest, legs splayed either side of her was the minder and the closest thing to her, hanging there right in front of her was his penis - his lollipop!

The minder reached down, retracted his foreskin exposing his pink glans, lent a little forward and just popped it into her mouth.

Celia wanted to bite. Wanted to hurt the man but she could only do what the old man said. Her tongue licked, her lips sucked. It was cool from the water and with the salty tang of the sea. It did not take long before it was growing in her mouth - the complete opposite of a lollipop which got smaller rather than larger and was ice cold not blood heat hot!

Beside her, Natasha was getting the same treatment - or was it treat?

The men were enjoying themselves. Trapped and with her head supported by the sand the man could really push at her and force his erection in and out of her mouth with enthusiasm. He must have been close to coming because he suddenly pulled away and stood up, his big erection slapping against his stomach. After a few seconds his companion did the same.

"Have you finished those?" Asked the old man. "If you have then you can finish mine. It's a bit much for me. Tabitha, come here."

With some difficulty the black girl pulled herself up from the sand. She was covered. It had stuck to her wet body almost hiding her nakedness. Celia thought she looked lovely, even so, like that. A sandgirl.

"Come here my dear, suck on my lollipop. There's a little left."

The newspaper was no longer covering his nakedness and there lying to one side was his flaccid penis. Celia almost, well for a few seconds anyway, felt sorry for him. The poor man unable to sustain an erection. Natasha knelt. Celia knew Natasha could do nothing but obey.

From her place in the sand Celia could not actually see Natasha's mouth at work but it was so obvious from the position of her head and the bobbing motion what she was doing. Celia turned her head and looked up at the two men silhouetted against the sky; at their penes standing strongly - such a difference from the old man. At any moment, she knew, one or other of them might be stuffed in her mouth - probably the one she had not been sucking - and it would all begin again and probably reach a conclusion. She would have to be careful to swallow slowly. It was not so easy doing that lying down. She had to be calm and practical. Just go with the flow (ha!) until there was the chance - another chance - of escape.

After a time the old man made male orgasm noises. It seemed Natasha's pretty lips had been enough notwithstanding the lack of an erection.

"Tabitha, Tabitha, you naughty girl. You've taken it all. Go on and give Emily-Sue some."

"Some?" He had come, his lollipop had 'come,' there would be no more 'some.' What did he mean? Oh no!

Natasha got up from her knees, a strange half sand, half black girl moving towards Celia and leaning over her, their faces close to each other, their eyes looking into each other's. Nice to feel the pressed warm softness of Natasha's pretty lips on her own, a delightful intimacy with these awful men around them but Celia also knew what was to come. Natasha's warm, wriggling tongue seeking egress through her lips. A delight but with it, the warm, glutinous mess of the old man's ejaculation sliding down Natasha's tongue and through Celia's open lips. Celia was getting 'some' too!

Celia's tongue sought Natasha's and they played. A private shared intimacy, a companionable friendly thing hidden from the men - if joined by the old man's semen.

They were allowed a little time. Celia was a little worried Natasha might be taken advantage of - given her exposed bottom - but either girl could be taken any time. They did not have a choice, they had no way of preventing 'things' being done. Perhaps though the sand kept them safe. It would be comfortable for neither party to engage with all that sand in Natasha's sex. The rubbing would not be pleasant!

"Come on Tabitha, pull Emily-Sue up!"

The old man was clearly enjoying himself. The two men watched as Natasha helped Celia out of the sand. Like Natasha she was coated in the stuff from neck to foot.

"Dear, oh dear. You have got yourself covered! You'd better go in the sea and wash it off."

A good idea and clearly the men thought so too. Natasha and she were picked up by the men, thrown over their shoulders and run down to the sea. The men waded out a little, dropped the girls into their arms and then:

"One, two and three!" They were thrown bodily out into the water.

Splash! Celia went right under, of course! Coming up gasping, one of the men was on her straightaway.

"Come on, let's get the sand off you."

Moving further out, waist deep in the water his hands were all over her, washing the sand away. All over indeed: there was nowhere the hands did not go; nowhere at all and, indeed, perhaps particularly there!

"All right, all right it's done," she said.

She was pretty sure not a particle of sand remained and perhaps the man thought so too. Celia was lifted up, and plonked unceremoniously back down, down on the man's upstanding erection and, just like the night before, in it went - it had travelled that way before. Celia had known it was going to happen sometime that morning. She had been surprised it had not happened when they had been caught running on the sand. She could imagine the thrill of the chase and their capture had been very exciting to the men. Their pumping up penes had very visually shown that!

Celia thought that for men used to exercise the prospect of running naked after naked girls with the prospect of 'reward' when the girls were caught would be a wonderful prospect. A nice game for lovers to play if they found somewhere private enough. Perhaps early morning by the sea or even out in the countryside. The boy and girl dressed simply in trainers. The warm sun shining down and the birds singing. Perhaps the man's erection coming at the sight. The girl glancing a little coyly at it. It looks very fine. Her boyfriend looks very manly but it is not for her yet. He has to earn the right to inseminate her by catching her. The girl given a suitable head start and then the chase begun. Perhaps it might go on for miles! But eventually the girl caught and taken.

There Celia was, and Natasha as well, being, fucked in the sea. The buoyancy of the water and the gentle surge of the waves making it all so easy to ride up and down. How so much nicer if Natasha and she had come to the seaside with their boyfriends and they were rather naughtily, perhaps daringly, having sex side by side out in the sea. A pleasant consensual experience made a little private by the water. The reality was not consensual - Celia had not even been asked.

Along the seashore Celia could see the woman returning. What would she think? Surely it would be obvious what they were doing?

The men moved further out into the sea letting the water level rise to hide the girls' breasts beneath the waves, their feet bounding up and down along the sandy bottom as they took the girls along. They did not let up on the intercourse.

The little boy waved. Celia could not shout. Could not call for help but equally could not be so unkind to the little boy as not to wave back even though it made everything seem so normal.

The man released her and she was swimming, swimming away from him, her thighs no longer with his big penis between them, instead opening and closing as she swam for the shore. Beside her Natasha doing the same. Perhaps they could rush out of the sea naked and gesticulate even though they could not speak their distress.

Celia could swim, Natasha could swim but there was clearly a big difference between school learnt breast stroke and the practised crawl of strong men. A sudden splashing and they were caught again; not permitted to rise up and reveal their breasts but held.

The woman looked out at them and waved. She had clearly heard and seen the splashing. No doubt she thought they were just having fun in the sea - and why not! A few more words with the old man and on she walked not realising perhaps what was hidden by his strategically placed newspaper. The girls chance of rescue receding.

Unsurprisingly Celia was passed to the other man, each wishing a turn with a girl. Celia looked across to Natasha just as one of the men, the one who had so recently been fucking her, lifted Natasha up in the air and, with her thighs half out of the water and spread either side of his hips, let her down on his erection - the pink head momentarily just poking up above the water. Had the woman on the beach turned she might just have spotted it, spotted Natasha's impalement. But she did not turn and did not see Celia also settled onto the other large erection.

Up and down, up and down. Splash, splash, splash. The woman and the boy were just specks in the distance when the men completed the act, once more releasing their semen into the young girls. It was clear they enjoyed what they had done and, releasing the girls, slapped each other on the back as they walked, still erect, back towards the beach leaving the girls standing in the water.

Natasha looked at Celia, Celia looked at Natasha.

"Mmgh, umph, suss." They still could not speak.

Celia reached out her hand and held Natasha's. Looking down and beneath the water Celia could see what looked a little like white, waving seaweed swinging in the moving water and seemingly attached to where both their legs joined, their so recently shaved pubic mounds and slits. Celia realised it was the men's semen leaking from them. She looked towards the shore with despair. The old man's semen in their mouths, the men's semen in their vaginas - when was this going to end? Celia knew, though, there would be more semen to come, probably a lot more semen to come. She reached and squeezed Natasha's hand and, not being able to say anything. lent forward to kiss her.

They were allowed to sunbathe, permitted to swim, they even got up and built a sandcastle together. A picnic lunch on the beach and magazines brought for them to read. The morning and afternoon passed pleasantly enough, pleasantly enough for kidnapped girls. There was no further interference with their bodies. The girls knew that it was only time. There would be more.