Gromet's PlazaBuried Stories

X Marks The Spot

by Jo

Email Feedback | Forum Feedback

© Copyright 2012 - Jo - Used by permission

Storycodes: M+/f; capture; bond; gag; sack; bagged; pirates; chest; boxed; buried; reluct/cons; X

Anne pushed the covers aside and slid out of bed. She pulled the thin gown over her head, reached for her hair brush, and stepped in front of the mirror. Anne frowned.

What's wrong with me? It's not right that the younger sister should marry before the older. Yes, she is the pretty one, but I'm not ugly. More handsome than pretty, but Mother is more handsome still and she married Father. I'm neither skinny nor fat. I see the way men look at me.

Anne ran the brush through her long, dark hair, her breasts gently swaying with each stroke. The window was open and she could hear the waves beyond the lagoon, smell the flowers that surrounded the cottage.

She set the brush aside and pulled a bathing suit from the drawer. The shear white one. She was too modest to wear it in public, but it was very early and this end of the beach would be empty. She stepped through the door and walked down the path that led to the beach.

She never made it.

There were three of them. One pinned her arms to her sides, another stuffed a piece of cloth into her mouth, wedged a strip of cloth between her teeth, pulled it tight, knotted it. The third captured her flailing legs, wound a cord around her ankles several times. The first pulled her wrists back while the second tied them.

They had a sack and they pulled it over Anne's head, pushed her to the ground, upended her, and cinched the opening. She was hefted upright and thrown over a shoulder.

They set her down on something hard. It moved, rocked. It tilted a bit, rocked some more, then the movement became rhythmic. It was a boat, had to be. She was in a boat being rowed, but where?

Several minutes later there were several jolts. Something tugged at the sack and Anne was airborne, swinging. She bumped against something hard, bumped again.

"Easy there. We don't want to damage the cargo."

"Aye, sir."

There was more swinging, then there were hands, many hands grabbing at the sack, grabbing at her legs, her head, her breasts. And then the feeling of falling, slowly. She came to rest on another hard surface. There was the sound of wood on wood, a hatch being closed and secured. Her world rocked gently. There was the muffled sound of footsteps above. Then the sounds became louder, closer.

"Let's see what you've brought me, lads."

The sack opened, pulled down and then off the bound girl.

Anne blinked. She was in a shaft of sunlight. It blinded her.

"A wench is it? And a comely one at that. Stand her up."

Rough hands grabbed her, dragged her to her feet. She could see them now. One of the men from the beach was there. The other was tall, husky, bordering on fat, dressed like every pirate she'd ever seen, or at least imagined, right down to the eye patch.

The captain stepped over to her. Walked around her, appraising

"I wouldn't mind keeping her. She'd make a fine thing to warm a bunk on a cold night."

He winked at the other who chuckled.

He stopped in front of Anne.

"But no, not to be. It would cause dissent among the crew. We must find a secure place for her. The chest will do. Give me the key."

The other removed the key from the large lock and handed it over. The captain tucked it in his vest pocket, pulled a piece of paper from his belt.

"This be the map."

He opened the paper and the men put their heads together.

"We row around the point, look for the twin rocks, go between them. Follow the trail to here, then turn left to here, the tree with the red flowers. Take fifty paces due north. That be the spot. I have prepared the place for a situation like this. We'll need only to bury her. Do you have that?"

"Aye, sir."

He turned to the girl.

"We're going to put you someplace safe. Someplace where the rest of my scurvy crew can't find you. I 'd like to keep you, but that's out of the question, so arrangements must be made, arrangements for a more appropriate situation. It won't take long. A day, maybe two. You'll be safe enough 'til then."

The captain opened the lid.

"Fetch me a blanket."

"Aye, sir."

Anne stood shock still, her brain trying to process the situation, what was about to happen.

A moment later the other appeared with a large, brown bundle. He shook it open and tucked it into the chest. He reached for the girl.

Anne, who had been standing passively until now panicked, tried to resist. She squirmed and squealed muffled squeals as he lifted her, nearly dropped her, but kept his grip. He set her in the chest, pushed her to her knees. Anne kept shaking her head, trying to stand. But it was no use. The lid came down, pressing against her back. Even through the thick wood, she heard the heavy lock being snapped into place.

A minute later she had the sensation of swinging, the feeling of being lifted, then being lowered. There was a thump and the steady rock of a boat being oared.

There was the jolt of keel on sand, the swaying as the two men carried her into the jungle. She came to rest with a thud. There was silence for a moment, then the scratching sound of sand being shoveled onto the chest. It was loud at first, but as the minutes passed became softer and softer. Anne's heart raced. She screamed, struggled, helpless in the dark. She sensed more than felt the weight of the sand surrounding her, covering her.


Anne blinked, the sun blinding her. He had untied her and removed the gag. She raised a hand to shade her eyes, squinted.

He was a nice looking man, not handsome, but nice enough. His white Izod shirt set off his tan nicely. He had blonde hair and blue eyes. He was a head taller than she and looked fit.

He gave her a slap on the ass.

"Arr! Me booty!"

Anne smiled.

"If you're going to make silly puns you may as well bury me again."

He took her in his arms, kissed her. It was a nice kiss, a very nice kiss, she decided.

"Sorry. I'm kind of a jokester. Don't feed me a straight line. I'm Dillan."


She looked down at the half buried chest.

"How long was I in there?"

"I'm guessing two, maybe three hours. I had to fight them for the privilege of claiming you."


"Water balloons at fifty yards. They have this slingshot kind of thing. We were in row boats and I had to get ten balloons into their boat before they got ten in mine. Then they gave me the map. It was easy to follow because the path is worn. Obviously they've done this before. There was a plastic tube sticking up out of the ground and a big X next to it."


"An air tube I'm thinking."

"Take a picture of me in the chest?"


Anne knelt in the chest and Dillan circled her snapping away.

He held his hand and helped up onto the ground. They walked down the path, the one with the sign that read: Cabanas 12, 14, 15 This Way.

"How was it, being buried I mean."

"Hard to describe. I've got nothing to relate it to. I knew I was safe, so I could relax and get into the experience. It was kind of cool at first, being locked in the box, hearing the sand being shoveled in. It gave me a bit of a thrill, like a scary roller coaster ride. But then the interest wore off and the boredom set it. That and kneeling the whole time."

Anne looked back at the half-buried chest.

"Not quite what I expected."

"Me either. I thought they'd arrange a romantic date or something like a blind date. Not kidnap you and all."

"Well the brochure said it would be a surprise meeting."

"Yeah, surprise could be being matched up for tennis, not this."

"I don't play tennis."

"Well that explains it. It was probably their only other alternative. Girl doesn't play tennis. What else could they do but kidnap and bury her?"

Anne smiled.

She hadn't been totally honest with Dillan. Being kidnapped and manhandled had touched a nerve and that nerve led straight to her pussy. The whole experience had excited her, both frightened and thrilled her. The pirates, the kidnapping. The only thing missing was the ravaging, but she would fix that.

Anne took Dillan's hand. Her cabana was #15, the last one on the edge of the trees. The one with the most privacy. Anne led him up onto the porch and through the door.



If you've enjoyed this story, please write to the author and let them know - they may write more!
back to
buried stories