Bermuda Triangle

Here’s another letter. I found it on the beach. It was stuck inside a sealed bottle……

Somewhere off the coast of Bermuda

To Whom it may concern,

This letter may never reach anyone, but I have written it nevertheless so that any who find it may know we are alive. I pray that this bottle, sealed with wax, may some day reach our families and be of some consolation to them. I fear, however, that we might never see home again. Here we are, stranded here on this Island, trapped in all likelihood and awaiting an unknown fate.

I am Lt Commander Will Fletcher and with me are Lt’s Jed Folks and Randall Craft. We were stationed in Fort Lauderdale. On a routine training mission northeast of Bermuda, we flew our trainers into a very thick and very strange fog bank. We lost contact with our base and eventually had to ditch as fuel ran out. I managed to launch my raft and found Jed and Randall in rafts in the water. Together we floated through a strange mist that lasted for days. We had no idea of our bearings. We were being carried, but could not tell in which direction we were going. We floated until at last the mist cleared and, carried by currents, we washed up on this Island.

It is a tropical island typical of islands in the West Indies. There is abundant fruit here and water gushes from cataracts in the inland mountains. It appears to be a large island, but we cannot tell where it is. At night the patterns of the stars are unfamiliar and we cannot get our bearings to fix our position.

We spent several days on the beach, searching the horizon, hoping for rescue. Seeing none we turned our attentions inland. We’d need food, shelter and water to survive. We also wondered if there were other inhabitants of this place. It was on the fourth day that they appeared.

To our utter amazement the “natives” who walked out of the bush and accosted us were female—all of them. They were a mixture of white and brown skinned women. Some had blond hair, others dark hair, other in between and their features were a mix of many races, which we found exceedingly odd. Some looked Nordic, like Swedes. Some looked like denizens of southern Europe, perhaps of Italian or Spanish lineage. They wore very little, their dress consisting of short leathers about their waists like loincloths or a thong and a small strip of leather across the breasts. The most amazing thing was that each was in her own way, beautiful. In fact we had never seen such a collection of beautiful women gathered together in one place. We are Navy men and could certainly appreciate that.

They carried spears and bows for hunting, and upon coming across us, they were suspicious, I am sure. They leveled the spears at us and motioned for us to follow their leader. It must have been a hunting party we figured, because they carried game they had killed. We had no choice but to follow them to their village.

The village lay several kilometers inland, in a verdant valley. It was a gorgeous place with waterfalls and lush jungle, lagoons and distant mountain peaks. Their chief was a woman of amazing stature, a bronzed blue-eyed blond, tall and of regal bearing. I put her age at about 35 with a figure that would rival any Playboy centerfold. In fact most of the women in the “tribe” were between the teenage years and young adulthood. There were no men, few very young, or very old women.

They spoke an odd language which seemed a mix of many languages that some of us had heard, including a bit that sounded like English. Over time we did pick up their language and now speak it fluently, but those first few weeks we struggled to communicate. By gesture and drawing in the dirt we explained our plight to this queen of their tribe and were able to communicate that we meant them no harm and were not a threat. We were certainly objects of considerable attention since, as we came to find out, they had lived without men for some time. The men, we were told, had departed in canoes to find other islands, or perhaps other tribes. Why they had done this we could not, at the time, fathom.

To say we were objects of much interest is putting it mildly. They fussed and fawned over us and it was a heady experience to be the object of such attention from beautiful women. We were each assigned three females whose job it was to feed us, give us shelter and see to our needs. We dragged what items we had salvaged from our life rafts back to the village and set up residence with our three appointed helpers. Those first few days were spent recuperating from our ordeal at sea and learning what we could of their language. At this time we were separated such that each of us had his own “household”. Things went well. The women were attentive and we had everything we could need. Being men (and Navy men at that) and they being women with no men around, things began to take an amorous turn as you might expect. There was certainly mutual interest, but as we were unsure of our status, we held off some initial advances. That all changed, however.

We’d been there a week when there was a fracus. The queen, whose name we learned was Sheela, sent for us. When we arrived in the center of the village we were met by Sheela, her handmaids and warriors and a girl who was bound. It was explained to us that she had stolen an object of ours. It turned out to be a watch and the girl, named Rhea, had been caught. We were there to witness justice being meted out. The punishment for Rhea was apparently to be branded with a symbol meaning “thief” and fires were being stoked for that very purpose. We were horrified that such a harsh punishment would be given for what we figured was mainly curiosity.

I spoke earnestly with Queen Sheela trying to convince her that we were not offended and to let the girl off. I conveyed that we got the watch back and all was ok. Sheela insisted that the girl had to be punished. I then had an idea. I told Sheela that back where we came from, there was a suitable punishment for girls who took things and that I would personally punish the girl. She thought about this but then agreed. Well, what I had in mind was what had happened to my sister Betty when she took money from mother’s purse and was found out. What she got was a good sound spanking from mother with the back of her hairbrush.

So I took Rhea by the arm, pulled her over to a fallen log and sat down. The women watched as I tipped Rhea across my knee and rucked up her little loincloth. Like all the women there, Rhea was a real beauty with a curvy figure. Her shapely bare bottom upended over my lap was giving me thoughts that had nothing to do with punishment. But I resolved to make it a good one, for her sake, to spare her the branding. So I spanked her bottom briskly, the slaps ringing out loudly. All could see Rhea’s wobbling cheeks take on a reddish hue as I spanked her soundly I thought, at least enough to make it look like real punishment. She squirmed and flailed around but I held her securely, just as I had seen my mother do with my sisters when chastisement was called for. I smacked her cute behind for several minutes while she wriggled and squirmed, her bottom bouncing and bucking over my knees. It must have stung pretty good since my own hand stung. I let her up eventually and she danced around frantically rubbing her behind, much to the amusement of her fellows.

Queen Sheela was apparently satisfied and let the girl go. After that there was much discussion and chatter about what had just happened. We got the idea that spanking as a punishment was not practiced here, but that the whole incident had made a big impression on the tribe.

After that the tribe seemed to take to the idea. We were called on again when a pair of hunters had been derelict in their duties. By this time I had learned enough of the language that I was able to understand that Sheela wanted us to punish these two like Rhea had been punished. So Jed and I sat down side by side and took the two huntresses over our knees and proceeded to redden their backsides. We carried out the sentence, a brisk spanking, amid much carrying on until the girls were squalling lustily and two sets of bare bottoms were red and hot to the touch. Sheela finally called a halt to it. The two women were properly chastened by the experience if the vigor with which they rubbed their well punished rears was any indication.

A more serious incident occurred still later when two of the women got into a fight which left one with a bloody nose and the other with a black eye. After discussing it, I suggested that for an offense like this, a switching might be called for as I had seen momma do with my sisters. I took a penknife and cut a long switch from a nearby plant that had tough stringy shoots. I suggested that the girls be bound to an overhead tree branch and their ankles hobbled. After baring the girls’ bottoms I took a switch and applied about a dozen sharp strokes to each, alternating between them a stroke at a time. They shrieked and danced about as I plied the switch, and it was apparently a satisfying spectacle, because a dozen strokes satisfied Sheela.

Thus, we had unwittingly established a new protocol for maintaining harmony in the tribe. And there were unintended consequences. We began to receive amorous advances from females who had been spanked. The night after the huntresses had been punished, both Jed and I were approached by those same two women, who told us they bore us no hard feelings. They led us off to what they termed a secret spot which was a jungle pool with a gorgeous waterfall. They divested us of our clothes then they stripped down to nothing. Bare we swam for a while in the pool before Lily, the one I had attended to, led me off to a private place of hers where our natural inclinations took over and we made love on a bed of soft ferns.

This happened more than once. In addition, our own methods of keeping house with our assigned attendants, who rotated weekly, included spankings for petty faults which seemed to lead to bouts of lovemaking. A squabble between females for one thing or another was put down by turning one or both of them across our knees and applying a paddling until squeals and promises to be good were forthcoming. Obviously this activity aroused us quite visibly to the girls and they took full advantage. The one who got the spanking would demand to be comforted and forgiven, and how could we refuse?

Finally there was Queen Sheela herself. She approached me one day and had me follow her to a grove some distance from the village. She told me that she was very happy with the new disciplinary regime we had introduced, but she felt that as queen and leader she could not require her subjects to undergo such punishment without experiencing it herself. With that she stripped off her garments and in her glorious nakedness, took me by the hand and led me to a broad tree stump where she asked me to sit down. She then placed herself across my knees until her full and magnificently shaped buttocks were positioned at the apex of my lap. She told me to lay on hard and not hold back for she wanted to feel what a real punishment spanking was like.

I did as she requested and smacked her jouncy bottom hard with the flat of my hand, giving her four of five slow deliberate smacks to opposite cheeks which elicited a little gasp. She told me to continue and I began to spank her wonderfully rounded bottom with volleys of spanks that made the cheeks wobble and dance. She writhed across my lap in a sensuous dance as my palm smacked one cheek then the other. She hissed and groaned a time or two but did not attempt to escape or call a halt. I spanked until her behind was as red as I had made the others. Then I stopped and lifted her to her feet. Her eyes were watery but she was not crying, but I saw that she seemed truly amazed that something like the flat of my hand applied to her bottom could produce such a ferocious sting. Her eyes were wide with wonder as she rubbed her flaming rear vigorously.

But we were not done. After she had cooled off a bit she cut a switch for herself. I told her she did not need to do this but she put her finger to my lips and shook her head. She found a low branch and bent over gripping it. She willingly thrust her bottom out and told me to give her a good switching like I had done with the others. I obliged and whipped her lush bottom a dozen times raising red stripes. Her body would stiffen as I laid on each stripe. Sometimes she moaned and shifted from foot to foot, but she held on to the branch. After the dozen strokes I had her rise. I embraced her to comfort her and she responded with a passion that took my breath away. She was like an aroused lioness as she  pulled me down in the grass and we engaged in a bout of passionate lovemaking that left us limp and satiated.

While this was going on, unbeknownst to me, Jed and Randall had been exploring. There was a path into the jungle that the women had indicated as “taboo”, but with Sheela nowhere to be found, they were able to slip away. Later they told me what they had found. The path led to a clearing deep in the jungle at the base of a cliff. There were cave openings in the cliff face. In the clearing were piles of bones—human bones, and an immense iron cook pot. Randall who has had some experience with such things declared the bones to be those of adult males. So we all had the same thought—were these the bones of the missing men? Who was responsible? Was there a cannibal tribe in the area in addition to the women? Or a beast in the caves? Or a worse thought—had the women lied to us? Was a similar fate in store for us? We noticed that they had fed us very well, pampering us and attending to our every need. The spankings had aroused their passions and we had engaged in furious bouts of lovemaking with dozens of them. It is seemingly a male paradise but now it appears to us that paradise has a dark side.

So we have made our plans to escape. But if we fail I can only hope that this message may reach someone, anyone. Help!

Lt Commander Will Fletcher,


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