<div class="floatright">(http://static.desktopnexus.com/thumbnails/739728-bigthumbnail.jpg)<strong><br/>   Ophelia Rockefeller<br/>    In a cramped cage in the crew's mess<br/>   With crewmen<br/>   Naked, gagged, handcuffed and groped<br/></strong><hr/></div>Ophelia welcomed the glass of water. The gag had made her so thirsty. She gulped it down so avidly that some water spilled from the corners of her mouth and dribbled down her face and naked torso. However, when the Commander offered her the whiskey, she refused. She preferred to keep all her lucidity for what was ahead of her. She was how hoping that the cage experience would not be as hard as she had feared, if the other men were like Macheath. Instead, she asked for another glass of water, which she drank eagerly as well.<br/><br/>Then the cloth gag was shoved back into her mouth and tied behind her head and they left the room. Ophelia was now able to walk. The steel floor was cold under her bare feet, and whenever they walked on steel grate it was hurting her soles. The poor girl was nearly naked and felt her confidence melt down as they approached the mess. She could hear the voices of the men, exchanging greasy jokes and laughing. She wished she could cower into a ball, hide her nudity, but her proud bust was jutting out arrogantly because of her arms chained behind her back. Her breasts were bouncing and swinging as she walked. Macheath pressure against her back increased as they arrived near the mess door. She did not want to enter.<br/><br/>And then he pushed her in and immediately all the eyes converged on her exposed body. She blushed and crossed her legs, as if this could protect her. As for her breasts, there was nothing she could do. Her long curly hair reached to just above her breasts and even by bending her head it would not reach past her nipples. Those were, because of the chilly air reigning in the submarine, erect and hard as wood, surrounded by puckered areolae.<br/><br/>At first, all she could see were the lustful faces of the crewmen staring at her from toes to breasts. But then, as Macheath harangued them, she saw it: the cage. It was more terrible than she had expected. It was a cube, about three-foot wide in each direction, with thick steel bars on all six faces, defining palm-wide square spaces between them. The cage was hanging by a thick chain from a rafter, in the exact centre of the room, at about chest height. One of its sides was open.<br/><br/>Ophelia's face turned pale at the sight. She slowly shook her head no as the Commander pushed her toward it. A table was pushed next to the cage and she was helped to climb on it. From there, she crawled into the cramped space. The sixth face of the cube was brought up and padlocked on four sides. Ophelia was locked in. The space was too small for her to stretch her legs or to stand up. She could not even sit down without bending her head because the "ceiling" was so low. To get more room for her body, she rested her back against one of the corners and put her legs in front of her, pushing her feet through the holes around the opposite angle. Every move caused the cage to swing and spin at the end of its chain.<br/><br/>As long as Macheath remained, the mess was calm. The men only stared at her. The cage could not hide her, nor could it protect her. She kept one leg pressed against her chest as a protection. As the cage spun slowly, her body was exposed from all angles to everybody. Ophelia felt like an animal in a zoo, and in fact this was almost her exact situation. At first she looked at the men, but they were avoiding her face, concentrating on the rest of her body.<br/><br/>Soon, her position became painful. She was resting on steel bars that had been crudely screwed together. Some were rusty. Screw heads were protruding here and there. She shifted her weight, causing the cage to swing more widely and rested her weight on another point of her sore butt. The towel was not offering a lot of padding. Also, her legs begun to cramp.<br/><br/>Once Macheath was gone, the men began to close on her. She looked at them with panicked eyes. She met no sympathy in their eyes. Only lust. She tried to plead with her eyes, to speak around her gag, but this was lost among the rush. Hands entered the cage, touching her, palpating her, caressing her hair. They grew more inquisitive, passing behind her thighs, which she had pressed against her chest, to grope her firm and full breasts. Some began to pinch her.<br/><br/>All along she squirmed in the cramped space, trying to move away from the most eager hands. But it only pushed herself into some other hands. She felt the towel being pulled and then even torn from under her butt. Her reddened, welted buttocks were now in full sight, slightly protruding under the cage floor. Her bikini thong did not resist long either. It was torn from her and there even was a quick fight about who would keep it as a trophy.<br/><br/>She moaned through her gag, hoping it would call Macheath back, but her weak muffled sounds could not be heard above the men's noise. Panicked, she curled herself into the tightest ball she could, pressing her thighs against her breasts, crossing her ankles in front of her pussy and hiding her face between her knees.