The Island of Marquis Gallance

Chapter One-2

Yet if her body was an allurement, how much more so was her face! The girl’s hair was glossy sable, gleaming waves pulled back from an exquisitely fresh face of cream-like complexion and held without ornamentation but for a single ribbon of red silk. Her youthful skin was so smooth and soft, unlined by years or care. Her eyebrows were sooty, expressionless and yet almost mocking somehow above a straight narrow nose turned up ever so faintly at the tip.

And the eyes — How they captivated the guests! The girl’s eyes were dark and liquid, rimmed with fine dense lashes that did not droop at the Marquis’ inflamingly coarse words. How could such innocent young eyes not quail in disgust? Yet perhaps, the Captain speculated with an inward shudder of forbidden delight, those pretty eyes indeed had looked upon debaucheries that made the Marquis’ words seem tame. Observing their curious lack of reaction, which of the tempest-tossed sailors did not wonder, perhaps unwillingly, what intimate ministrations might be required to make those fathomless dark orbs blink? What a wondrous delight it would be to make her cry out her secret joys!

And the lips—below cheeks whose becoming rosiness somehow failed to deepen to the expected scarlet by what the Marquis had said, the luscious morsel’s lips gleamed sly and enigmatic. Could it be that such a tender young girl already knew firsthand about the sensual potentials of that most expressive of orifices? Those lips smirked somehow, without quite admitting it. They promised something, without quite naming it. Which of the Marquis’ guests did not feel a mindless animal stiffening somewhere below his well fed belly at the sight of those mockingly self-possessed lips? How those cherries might caress and kiss and coax, and finally, how beautifully they might accept!

Affecting so pointedly not to notice their obvious brutish fleshly response, Gallance merely c****d an eyebrow at the rapt expressions upon his companions’ mesmerized faces. “And how long,” wondered Gallance obliquely, “have you poor souls been at sea without the company of women?”

The First Mate of the ship licked his lips, his gaze most imprudently fixed upon the young damsel. “Too long,” the poor man murmured. He moved his sea cap hastily to cover the sudden rigidity within the front of his trousers.

“Which signifieth nothing!” the Captain snapped, attempting to glare sternly at the Mate. Yet despite his tone, he, too, betrayed a physical reaction which he could neither suppress nor hide. His blood beat heavily, insistently, in flesh that for months had not known the satisfactions that only the sweet secrets of an indulgent feminine frame could bestow. He ached with desire, a thick, heavy feeling that filled the bottom of his belly.

“Indeed!” seconded the faithful First Officer darkly from the man’s other side.

The Captain inclined his head faintly at his trusted second in command, a grateful little nod. Yet this man, too, the Captain saw, was betrayed by an obvious swelling within his borrowed breeches. The poor fellow was as agitated as any of the common seamen beneath them, but still he felt honor-bound to support the authority of his leader. The Captain’s heart went out to his friend.

“Oh, come, dear sirs,” smiled Gallance, not missing anything. “Be not so hard with the poor man when his poor meat is so hard. Why, surely after a long voyage, when one’s balls are distended with the unspilled product of one’s natural lusts, the first thing every sailor must do is drain his stinking fluids in the sticky pink cunt-flesh of some whore.”

“B-but, Marquis,” sputtered the Captain, trying to muster the outrage he knew he should feel, “to speak so before a tender young lady of such high birth—”

“Tender,” interrupted Gallance, “oh, yes, exquisitely so.” The seated man reached up and took the girl’s chin gently in his hand. She did not flinch from that casually possessive touch, the Captain saw, did not draw back an iota. She stood there with his languid caress upon the fine young skin of her jaw as if there were nothing amiss.

The Marquis stroked his thumb idly about the very corner of the girl’s mockingly sly lips. “To wallow in this creature’s firm little titties, slobbering, sucking, squeezing—stretching those tender n*****s until she screams in rapture! How one’s hands and mouth, one’s rigid red member, can sport all about that tender white skin! What a joy it is to straddle that flat narrow ribcage and jerk oneself off unmercifully before her wide eyes, to pollute with spattering gouts of urgent seed her dainty upstanding bosom, her flushed and worshipful face—” The man’s eyes were glassy. “Ah, to soil her in joy, spurt after spurt, so that that mockingly beautiful visage is hung with great strings of goo… She will see nothing but spunk, smell nothing but spunk, and taste nothing but spunk! To treat her so is to know—to own, to use, to defile!—tender.” Gallance nodded slowly at his dumbstruck guests.

The Captain licked his lips. He had never imagined such an act—but suddenly it sounded so wicked, so right. The devotion of such a girl! And the girl did not contradict the man, did not squirm, and did not frown. Could it really be, he wondered again—unwillingly, and yet somehow hopefully—that the sweet, dark-eyed beauty really enjoyed this treatment?

“Or, gentlemen,” intoned their host, “to part those tender, gleaming thighs and mount the smooth slender body as she sleeps, without any preliminaries, before she can stir, so that when she wakes she knows nothing but the selfless pleasure of her possession! Pinned to silk sheets by a throbbing red c**k, her smooth white flesh writhing in joy to every grunting thrust… It is bliss,” he maintained. “That pale youthful body inflames one’s passions wildly! What a treat it is, then, simply to lash this willing creature spread eagled to the posts of the bed with silken cords, her springy little breasts stiff-nippled and alluring, her soft p***y hairy and beckoning between her tender forced-open thighs! Can you imagine it, sirs?”

Staring at the composed young lady like a beast in rut, the Captain did! Despite the inhibitions of conscience, he could not help himself, and neither could his poor sailors. Their flesh hungered for the girl, savagely. The poor Captain was wildly excited, his scrotum swollen full and achingly heavy with his lusts, the shaft of his manhood standing straight out. His engorged meat strained helplessly forward, the blind head fat with mindless desire, every vein bulging with animal power. Secret fluids seemed to well up at the base of his manhood, to churn restlessly, craving release. How that fiery rod ached to be quenched in musky pink! The front of his thin, elegant breeches was tented with his maddened erection.

The girl saw it, he realized in wonder, but she betrayed no reaction except her naughty little smirk. That desperate rigidity was all for her, she clearly knew—the upstanding agonized flesh so thick and swollen, the slow-dripping fluids so wondrously heavy—and yet she did nothing but smile. It inflamed the Captain’s flesh all the more. What a darling, thought the Captain incoherently, a sweet, wicked darling!

“In such a circumstance one will f**k her, gentlemen,” continued their host, “again and again and again, mindlessly, using her, filling her, making her scream with delight as she writhes happily against her silken bonds. One will return to the boudoir all day long, I assure you, until one’s poor burning red member will perform no longer. How many orgasms, how many gouts of semen can one man squirt to the bottom of her pretty pink p***y?” Gallance shook his head fondly. “And yet there comes a time when even such delectable flesh can no longer bring off one’s tired meat—one must simply masturbate into it, until the last dribbles are wrung from one’s poor c**k. She will beg for that tribute.”

Wide-eyed, the Captain gazed longingly at the girl. How could the smirking thing stand unblushing before them unless it were true? The thought of that pretty young face not merely accepting but actually begging for the spatters of a man’s seed—it was profoundly exciting.

“Yet even then—limp, drained, sated—one will feel compelled to enjoy her still further, desperately. Perhaps,” Gallance shrugged idly, “one will reach right in and rub compulsively at that slippery, c*m-filled paradise of glistening flesh and hair and fluids for hours on end until finally the vulnerable white thing that has shrieked and writhed so beautifully beneath one’s demanding fingers finally collapses in blissful exhaustion. And yet perhaps even that mastery will not be enough, and one might rouse her again—this time with one’s mouth!—burying one’s face in the smelly folds of her hairy, sleeping cunt to gobble at her like a starved man presented with the choicest of delicacies, sucking out the sloppy, overflowing juices of one’s own desperate lusts and this slut’s wanton eagerness with whimpering delight. In the throes of unspeakable passion, this little perversion will seem the most natural thing in the world.” He gazed for a long moment into the girl’s unblinking dark eyes. “That, sirs,” he said at last, quietly, “is to know tender.”

Breathlessly the Captain tried to imagine it. The act was shocking, disgusting—and yet suddenly he knew that the Marquis was right. To this girl—for this girl—one might do anything, anything! His mouth watered.

Gallance smiled around at his guests as he let his fingertips stray lightly down the silken white neck of the girl who stood motionless and calm before him. “And young?” he continued. “Oh, Captain, it would redden your face—and your cockhead—to know precisely. For this young slut’s early education I consulted the writings of the most renowned moral authorities of the ancient and modern worlds—and flouted their foolish platitudes!” He laughed explosively. “Still so young, sirs, but already she has been taught to pervert herself with abandon with men, women, vegetables, animals, mechanical devices. On her back, on her knees, in privacy, before multitudes—it matters not! And do you wonder, perhaps, how she was trained in her youth to relish not only the sensations but the sight, the sound, the taste, the smell of such glorious deviance?”

The Marquis let his guests consider it for a long moment, their minds awhirl. “To serve gleefully every whim of the sensual connoisseur, no matter how outrageous, she was schooled with practice, practice, practice! Oh, how many times a day was she possessed, polluted, tantalized, tortured? Imagination is the key, sirs, and determination, too. I myself was her first teacher, of course—could not keep my hands off of her. I kept her with me at all times, and the things I did to her!” He gave a smiling, helpless shrug. “I pawed her whenever I felt the urge, wherever we were—in the boudoir, at the table, in the crowded marketplace. It was a pleasant thrill to push my fingers through that new growth of the softest downy black hairs and right up into her juicy p***y. I had a penchant for pulling those digits out again and commanding her to lick from my smelly fingertips every shining drop of her naughty lubrication. Oh, no tradesman or fishwife dared say a word, but she always seemed to enjoy it when people watched her do that.”

The Captain’s eyes never left the girl. She seemed to glow somehow before him, otherworldly and serene.

“I taught her to masturbate,” said Gallance, his eyes dreamy, “and for a time I made her do it constantly. Oh, what a dirty little frigger! She invented many a pretty game for pleasuring herself, I assure you, and I felt pride in my teachings at every dirty new outrage. Ah, how she played with that wet snatch—with nimble fingers, with every vegetable imaginable, with candlesticks, with the arms of chairs, with the very silverware of my table!” He nodded with a smile as his guests glanced down at the heavy silver they had just used in their meal. “How she prowled the halls like a cat in heat, crawling over this and that, grinding her musky slit against whatever she could, craving every new sensation!” He smiled with fond recollection.

“And where?” wondered Gallance playfully. “Everywhere! In the boudoir, in the bath, upon walks in the woods. Oh, and she longed to perform before an audience. Sometimes she might strip herself in the main hall and writhe naked and sweaty on display as servants passed by all day long. Now and then the girl might simply creep in unannounced during business or dinner and curl up in the lap of one of my guests and masturbate herself to exhaustion. She became an artisan of her own flesh.”

Despite himself, the Captain could not help drawing his hand again along one of those finely wrought long swells of burnished metal with which he had carried food to his mouth. His face felt red as he imagined how the rounded end of his fork might be rubbed through juicy pink flesh faster and faster… He thought of her mating noisily with the rounded arm of his chair, thought of her climbing up and spreading herself open before him and showing him all of her desperate desires. The Captain moistened his lips restlessly.