Warrior Women Island

The story I'm about to relay to you will seem highly improbable in the 21st century. Perhaps two or three hundred years ago the idea might have made more sense. As I write, I am all that remains of a three-man crew of college buddies sailing a Catalina sized sailboat we named, "Hornblower". The name had two origins. One was an homage to C.S. Forester's adventure series of a British Royal Naval Officer Horatio Hornblower and the fact that we were recent college graduates sailing the world and were bragging or blowing our own horns about it.

My friends and I decided to sail around the world for that post-graduate adventure before entering the real world, as my father put it. The Catalina-30 and the required finances were largely a graduation donation from him. Of course, we all chipped-in along the way. We didn't spend all our money on frat house beer bong parties and cheerleaders. We'd been planning this serious adventure for the past year. We had decided we needed some grand adventure photos in our law offices, someday. How great would that be?

Each of us had put many hours learning to sail and navigate over the past years. I had a slight advantage as my father sent me to a sailing summer camp during high school years. The experience is what gave me the idea for this adventure. And, of course, the twelve novels by C.S. Forester. We were all equal to the challenge, or so we believed. We had successfully sailed from San Francisco to Hawaii, rested a day, resupplying our stores and making small repairs. Things happen -- even to a new boat. Perhaps we should have planned a couple of shakedown cruises before the trip, but we were in a hurry for our adventure to begin.

We left Oahu on a brilliantly sunny morning at dawn. The weather service radio called for smooth sailing during our leg toward Polynesia. We divided our duties giving each of us a regular 8-hour shift of sleep rotation. That way someone was always on deck, minding the navigation and monitoring the weather. It was Harper's special duty to maintain the ship's logbook. Someday, it would become our grand adventure novel. We fantasized that sales of that novel would help fund law school.

On the third day out of Hawaii heading southward, the ship's radar picked up a storm. Rather than drop sails and wait for it to pass ahead of us with the prevailing winds, we consulted our charts and changed course for the nearest port. As the winds picked up, we had to settle for any sort of dry land.

The storm changed direction, and we were caught up in it. We all donned our life vests and rain gear, dropped sails, hastily lashed down anything that moves, and held on for dear life below deck. Our eyes were glued to the weather radar screen while trying to find any sort of coast guard type radio station. We dodged anything lose that went flying inside the cabin. I struggled with finding our last known position on the navigational chart. Out of desperation, I grabbed the radio and shouted into the handset, "Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. US small craft sailing vessel Hornblower caught in weather trouble. Coordinates unknown. Three days due south of Hawaii. Mayday, mayday, mayday. Any vessel or rescue service, please respond." We heard only static.

There was a loud noise topside that neither of us were familiar with. Reynolds and Harper went topside to lash down whatever had broken free before it could cause damage to the boat as we rocked and rolled the big waves. After a bit the topside banging stopped, and their loud voices were silenced. I went out to investigate. Looking toward the bow, I could not see my friends. I went below and grabbed the bullhorn and binoculars.

Reynolds and Harper had been swept overboard.

"Reynolds!... Harper!" I yelled through the bullhorn. I scoured the horizon looking for their high-vis colored rain gear or their life vests. I called out again on the bullhorn. "Reynolds!... Harper!" I went below and grabbed the flair gun off the bulkhead mounting and fired it straight up hoping they would call out. I couldn't hear anything in the loud crashing of the waves. I went below to use the radio again.

"Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. US small craft sailing vessel Hornblower caught in weather trouble. Two men swept off the deck wearing floatation devices with PLB radio beacon at coordinates unknown. Three days south of Hawaii. Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. Any vessel or rescue service, please respond."

I closed the hatch and lashed myself to the wheel on deck and kept calling out for my friends on the bullhorn. Just as I fired a second flair, I blacked out. It was then that the boom broke loose from its lashing and knocked me out. That must have been what happened.

When I awoke, I was face down on the deck. The Hornblower had run aground on a sandy beach. The gray skies were beginning to clear. I tried to push myself up to stand and immediately lost consciousness again.

When I awoke the second time, it was night, but there was an orange glow reflecting off the wetness of the deck. I rose to my knees and twisted to see three very lovely, scantily dressed women each holding a torch and a spear. As I rose to my feet, I noticed about a dozen more standing on the beach near the boat, also with torches and a spear. None were making malicious advances. They just watched me try to stand on very wobbly knees. I rose slowly doing a self-check for other physical damages. I rubbed my eyes in case these beautiful women before me were a mirage. As I focused closer in the dim light, it appeared the women looked closely enough alike to have been sisters.

I got to my feet and slowly raised my right hand and pointed at my chest.

"Hello. I am Jackson."

"Jackson," they all repeated.

"May I have permission to land on your island? I was delivered here by the storm."

"Ing-lish. You talk Ing-lish. Yeah?"

"Yes, I'm an American, but I speak English."

"Good. Jackson, you come."

"Right. Where are we going?"

"Come, Jackson."

"Alright." She was firm and insistent, but she didn't act like I was going to be dissected and boiled in a pot with mixed vegetables. I climbed down the stern of the boat and onto dry sand which strangely felt like it was rocking and moving. I had to get my land legs back.

Two of their leaders took each of my hands and strolled along the line of women on the beach and introduced me. I was introduced to them, but they didn't introduce themselves to me. It seemed strange. As she presented me in front of each of the women, one by one, they had a strange ritual. Prior to the actual introduction, they turned themselves around and bent over at the waste showing me that wore no undergarments. They stuck their spears and torches into the sand and turned back around.

The leaders both put their hands on my chest and said, "Jackson". The young woman stepped forward, put her hands on my shoulders, leaned forward, put her forehead to mine, rubbed her nose against mine side to side, then dropped her hands to my ass cheeks and squeezed firmly, then to my cock and balls and squeezed. I was slightly hard at her recent rear end exposure. As she began to smile, she stepped back. She turned around and bent from the waist to retrieve her spear and torch showing me her pussy and ass again. We moved down the line, and the process was repeated twelve more times.

Call me slow headed, but all the women looked enough alike to have been modern day clones or very closely related. The leaders were making notes of how many women smiled and who didn't. Later, I would come to realize they were voting whether to accept me or kill me. I got lucky... in more ways than one.

The women arranged themselves six in a line on either side while the leader was at the front and her two other leaders held me by the hands as we walked in formation presumably toward their village. Although the storm had been through their village, it remained relatively intact. Others were cleaning up the debris. I was escorted to the largest grass hut. The leader went inside and brought out the tribal leader who seemed to be no more than 15 or 16 years older than these other women.

The two leaders spoke in their own language, apparently telling her the tale of how I was discovered on the beach. The elder raised her hand and spoke some words. All the other women nodded their heads once and smiled. The elder spoke some more words, and I was escorted to a hut of my own and brought food and water. Then more women came in and removed all my clothing -- do I dare protest? Still others came in to bathe me head to toe. I don't know what I smelled like to them, but they paid extra attention to my ass crack and my cock and balls. I was washed there several times using a lot of soap and long strokes. Sure, it hardened me. I couldn't stop it if I tried. It was if this was their pleasure. Could I be dreaming? Still others came in to bring fresh clothing like theirs. When they were all finished, the first leader came in and gave me a bowl of something to drink.

"What is this?"

"For you head, Jackson. You hurt head."

Funny thing. With all the pleasure I'd been having at the soft hands of these lovely Polynesian women, I'd forgotten all about it. I probably had a concussion. I took a sip. It tasted nasty. I unwittingly made an ugly face.

"What's in this?"

"Drink all, Jackson."

It was an order, not a request. They apparently liked me, so maybe it wasn't poison. I had to be a good prisoner or guest, I don't know which. Hospitality was great. I drank it all down and returned the bowl.

"What's your name, Miss? You know mine. May I know yours?"

"Name? I am First Miller."

"First Miller?"

"Yeah."

Whoever taught them Ing-lish sure taught them slang, too.

"You rest now. You need."

I was shown the mat I that was to be my bed and a handwoven blanket. As soon as I was horizontal, I passed out.

When I awoke the following day, the village was quietly at work. The sun was straight overhead. It seemed as soon as I was noticed standing in the entry way of my hut, that sounds could be heard of people going about the businesses of their day. First Miller and two of her friends immediately approached me with food and another bowl of that medicine she gave me the night before.

"Drink all medicine. Eat food all. You need strong."

Then she did something she hadn't yet done. She smiled at me. I didn't know why except that my cock was hard and pushing my clothing outward giving me away. How could anyone blame me? I was in a small village with nothing but very lovely women wearing very little clothing and bending over forward every chance they got. They were even prettier in the sunshine of day. As I sat outside my hut, I continued watching them. They looked so much alike, I lost track of who was doing what. What's more, they all appeared to be the same age. It must have been the medicine because I immediately began to fall asleep after the meal. I barely made it back to the mat before falling asleep again.

When I awoke again, it was dark and there were small campfires scattered around the village. First Miller was again at my entry way as I stood there watching.

"Jackson. You come."

"Where are we going?"

"Questions... words."

She escorted me to the Elder's hut and stood outside waiting to be recognized. The words came. We went in and sat at her small fire inside. She was the first to speak.

"Jackson. You are well treated?"

"Yes, very well treated. May I ask your name?"

"I am First Smith. I lead this village."

"There are other villages?"

"Yes. Many."

"May I ask, where are the men of your village?"

"Men have own village. They hunt, fish, grow food for all villages."

"Why do they live separately from this village?"

"Men have grown weak over time. They do not produce strong children. They are forbidden to mate. So, they work. We protect them. That is our way."

"I understand. That is why you have protected me. Is that correct?"

"Partially. The women of this village have chosen you. Otherwise, as an outsider, you would have been killed and your boat returned to the sea."

"What does it mean to be chosen?"

"You appear to be strong. You have command of a ship. You have questions. This means you are strong, healthy, and -- how do you say -- have brains."

"I take that as high praise, Elder First Smith."

"These are things our men possessed in the past, but a sickness fell upon us and afterward, the men became sterile or weak. It became necessary to find them other work."

"That's a terrible situation for your people -- for all of your people, in all your villages."

"Yes, now you know about our people."

"How did you learn English so well?"

"Two cycles back, I mated with a man, and he decided to stay with us rather than leave. He taught me his words, and I taught him mine. We lived together as our people once did in the past as our history records it. The women in this village are all children of Miller. I am the only female remaining from the Smith generation. I was First Born, so I am First Smith. As you know, this woman here is First Miller. These other women are all her sisters -- all born from the loins of Miller."

"Why is your longevity so short? Is your water clean and clear? Are your food sources secure?"

"We cannot question what we don't know. We only know we must continue. Our people must continue. We ask that you help us."

"What are you asking of me? I will gladly help any way I can, but I'm not a doctor. Perhaps your people need a better diet, proper medicines."

"You speak of things we have heard before. Perhaps someday our gods will send us help without taking advantage of our peaceful ways. We ask only to be left in peace. The motives of others have been easily discovered. They have become food for the wild beasts."

"I think I understand. I appreciate your honesty, and I assure you I have no other motives except to return home to America. I landed here after being caught in a huge storm. I lost two of my friends into the sea. When I am allowed, I would like to return home. If you wish, I will keep your location a secret."

"Do you wish to help us now?"

"Of course. You have been very kind in helping me. I should offer my help to you."

"What we ask cannot be taken. It is against our ways. It must be given, but we can help you give more. You must agree."

Her answer was purposefully cryptic.

"How may I help your people, Elder First Smith?"

"That is what I wanted to hear. If you agree, you will become the father of the Jackson generation by mating with the women of the Miller generation."

"I am very honored, Elder First Smith. I am young and I am strong, but there are many women in the Miller generation."

"The volunteers of three previous generations have said the same. Our ceremonies have never failed. Do you still agree?"

I looked at First Miller eye to eye looking for a sign or some kind. Should I? Should I not? How could I say no? What would happen if I said no? First Miller's eyes seemed to be asking me personally - in hope -- not for herself, but for her people. She would be the new leader of the village after the eventual passing of Elder First Smith. I got the feeling that I would be responding to First Miller and not necessarily Elder First Smith. I decided to turn it around.

"First Miller, I ask you right here before Elder First Smith, am I acceptable to you as your partner on behalf of all the women of your generation and the future of your village and civilization."

I wasn't thinking. First Miller wouldn't understand half of those words, but surely Elder First Smith did. The translations began. In the end, she smiled and hugged me. Elder First Smith had never seen that emotion from anyone in her village before.

"Jackson, First Miller agrees. From here, you will be cared for by Second and Third Miller for two more days. On the third day, our ceremony will begin." Elder First Smith dipped a wooden cup into a covered clay jar and handed it to me. "This is medicine to help you sleep. You may also dream. Tomorrow, you will be bathed and well fed. If there is anything you wish, ask for it. For everything else, your questions will be answered during the ceremony. I suggest sleep."

"Thank-you, Elder First Smith."

"Remember. You have been properly chosen. It is our highest honor. Do not betray us."

"I won't. Thank you again."

I drank the cup of whatever that medicine was. First Miller walked me back to my hut. Before I went inside, she turned me around and looked me in the eyes. She reached up and held my face, put her forehead against mine and we rubbed noses back and forth. I wanted to kiss her but was afraid it might break the rules. I waited for her to squeeze my ass cheeks and grab my cock as they had done on the beach, but she didn't. I looked her in the eyes and said, "Tomorrow?"

She replied, "Two days." Then turned to go.

I woke up again around mid-day and the women were already busy. I had a tray of food, others were cleaning and straightening my hut. I was escorted into the forest to a huge tub near a waterfall with a side boiler for hot water on the side. I was instructed to sit inside the tub on a stool that had only seats for my bones, leaving my sex flesh hanging. Hot and cold water were being piped in from the boiler and the river. Second and Third Miller got into the tub with me with a pan of some type of sweet-smelling soap and proceeded to slowly wash me head to toe with extra attention to my balls and asshole. I got an automatic hard on, but I did nothing about it as they stroked it with their soft hands and soap. As I understood it, I was to remain totally passive here.

As I got out of the tub, I was handed another cup of medicine and escorted to my hut. I couldn't help it. I fell instantly asleep.

I awoke around dinner time. I could smell food cooking. Second and Third Miller rushed to my side with a look of service on their faces. They hadn't yet learned the Ing-lish, but they had the desire. They brought a plate of food. It seemed like stir-fried rice, native vegetables and a mystery meat. It was pretty good. Topped off, of course, by more medicine. Every time the girls bent over showing me their lady-parts, I got another hard-on.

The next day was the same except for a deep tissue massage in my hut. The oils were scented like sandalwood spice. There was incense burning. They started at my shoulders and feet and worked toward my middle. Every toe was stretched and rendered limber. My shoulders were loose, and I felt mellow overall. Then, I got the big surprise. Second Miller held my ass cheeks open while Third Miller rubbed more oils around my asshole and slightly inside it very carefully. With one finger, she slipped deeper inside feeling for my prostate gland. When she found it, she rubbed it carefully. My cock got hard instantly, and I raised my hips off the mat. She disengaged and rolled me over.

Between the two of them, they started the massage process again, starting one at my feet and another at my shoulders, neck, and temples. Working toward the middle where my cock was still standing tall. It seemed to take forever for them to reach for it. I had my eyes closed allowing all the sensations to enter my mind. The two of them reached my cock and balls together and began a sensual, hot oil massage. I wanted to come, but I held back. Satisfied that I'd been properly primed, they raised my head, gave me another cup of medicine, wiped my lips and did that forehead, nose rub procedure. It seemed to indicate affection. Then they covered me up with a thin blanket. I was asleep in seconds.

I awoke again near midday. That medicine they gave me sure induced a long, quiet sleep. I got up, stretched and stood still looking out onto the center of the village. The women had sure been busy. In the center open space, they had erected a ten-foot square pagoda decorated with palm leaves. Above the bed area was all open space to the Universe and aromatic lemon grasses were placed around the raised floor area. Flowers were sewn together and draped from the four corner supports to each other. As I appeared in the entry way, Second and Third Miller were suddenly at my sides with food, water, and more medicine. We ate together. I asked where First Miller was but received only quizzical looks. I reasoned that it would be pointless to engage in conversation.