Kidnapped by Pirates

Chapter One-2

She took the captain’s c**k out of her mouth and licked slowly around the head, just below the rim. Then she ran the tip of her tongue down the back of the shaft, along the little ridge that went down to the base. With her free hand she gently squeezed his balls, and was rewarded with another grunt of pleasure. Running her tongue back up the shaft, she took him once more in her mouth, this time sucking harder. She began to move her head up and down, taking the c**k in deep, then all the way back out till the head rested on her lips, before covering him once more with her mouth. She had already decided that she would make him come this way. Doubtless if things continued as they were the captain would eventually want to penetrate her, but for a reason she did not quite understand she wished to delay that a little longer. Was it loyalty to Henry? Or even a vestigial sense of propriety as the squire’s wife? She surely ought not to be in too much of a hurry to give up her virtue.

And yet, she said to herself as she worked the captain’s c**k, moving her head a little more quickly, your virtue went a long time ago, my dear, the moment you gave way to Henry’s advances. And how long was that after she had married Sir George? Hardly long enough for decency, if there was ever decency in such a thing.

She began to rub the shaft of the captain’s c**k in time with her sucking of the head. Already she could sense the tell-tale signs of an orgasm building. She judged that he was past the point of no return, the point at which he was still capable of voluntarily withdrawing his c**k, in order to have it serviced in another way. She had control of him now.

The captain suddenly yanked his c**k from her mouth with a groan and a stream of semen shot from him. It splattered on Caroline’s face, on her cheeks and her brow; fortunately she had instinctively closed her eyes. A few drops fell on her lips; she stuck out her tongue and licked them off. Semen was strange stuff. Henry had told her the taste of it could vary according to what a man had been eating, and from man to man. The captain’s was salty, and not offensive.

She wiped a drop from the side of her eye and looked up at the captain. He reached into the desk behind him and brought out a small pocket handkerchief, smelling of lavender. He handed it to her and she wiped her face. She took a sniff of the handkerchief and found the acrid odour of semen now prevailed. Caroline got to her feet.

The captain gave her a little smile. “You’ve done that before,” he said. “You’re good.”

She said nothing. It wasn’t part of her purpose to have the captain admire her talents. But at the same time, the welfare of her fellow prisoners demanded that she be amenable. Her body and the pleasure it could give this man were all that stood between them and a grisly fate. Perhaps if she played her cards right she could wring more concessions from him. Thank god it was the captain she was required to service, and not his scrofulous crewmen.

The results of Caroline’s efforts were immediate. The girls were allowed up on deck. Some clothing was found for those who were naked, not of the prettiest perhaps, but adequate to protect their modesty. Ford was brought: some bread and cheese, and a basket of apples, plain fare but to the ravenous girls welcome indeed. A pail of water was likewise gratefully received. And a sheet was put up in the stern to screen the girls while they washed from the buckets of sea water provided. One of the sailors ascended the rigging in order to spy, but was detected by the girls, who set up a cry. The man was hauled down, tied to the mast and whipped on his bare back. Caroline peeped round the side of the sheet to observe this spectacle, but recoiled from the brutality. It was a reminder, if one were needed, of the potential violence that lurked around them.

As the girls sat drying themselves, Caroline spoke. “I have managed to get these concessions from the captain. Don’t enquire how, but I am sure none of you will be in doubt as to the nature of what I had to trade. The captain has informed me that if his men do not receive similar services from the rest of you, he will be unable to control them. What I propose is this. I will try to negotiate with the captain that only such girls as are willing to volunteer will be used in this manner, and that they will not be expected to service more than four men in any one session, and that no violence will be offered to them. If I go to propose this, I need to know that there are sufficient among you who are willing to volunteer in order to keep the rest of you safe. Who is willing to make this sacrifice?”

For a moment there was silence. Then one girl, Sally, pretty and dark-haired, spoke. “They won’t hurt us? And we need only service one at a time, not a whole bunch at once?”

“I will propose this,” Caroline said.

“Then I’ll volunteer. But only if others will too. I’m not taking on the whole crew by myself.”

One or two of the girls tittered at this, but four more raised their hands. The girl who had earlier been violated sat at the back, staring at the deck. She seemed to be still in shock.

“Good,” said Caroline. “Let’s hope I can make it work.”

She went round the sheet, out onto the deck and sought out the captain, who was standing in the stern. She explained what she had agreed with the other girls. The captain listened intently, then replied.

“Very well. We will try this and see how it works. I hope it’s not only the plain ones who are volunteering.” He smiled. “However, I have one condition of my own.”

“Yes?” said Caroline nervously.

“That you dine with me this evening.”

This was rather more than she expected. She hadn’t planned to make an intimate friend of this man, only service his physical needs in exchange for concessions. But she realised that she needed at least an appearance of cordiality.

“If you wish,” she said, inclining her head politely.

“I’ll see if I can find you something more appropriate to wear,” he said, looking at her nightgown. Caroline blushed; she was only too aware that the flimsy material hid little of her charms.

Back below deck with the rest of the girls, Caroline had nothing to do but wait for her evening’s engagement. As one does in such situations, she fell to ruminating on the recent past. Had Sir George survived his blow to the head? How would she feel if she was now a widow? Not that it made any practical difference, given her situation. But try as she might she could not feel much grief. Her marriage had been strictly a matter of convenience. She had had a wretched childhood; her mother, as she had never tired of telling the young Caroline, had wished for a boy. She appeared to resent Caroline and set out to make her life a misery by constant criticism and harsh punishments. Her mother had taken to drink, and when under the influence beat her child savagely. Caroline looked to her father for protection, but he was a weak man, unable to stand up against his domineering wife.

When, at the tender age of eighteen, Caroline had attracted the attention of the local squire, she immediately saw this as a way out of her unhappy home. Sir George was a widower, middle-aged, portly, interested, it appeared, only in hunting and drinking. But to Caroline, desperate for something better, he was a saviour. She readily agreed to his proposal and in no time became Lady Caroline.

It would be an exaggeration to say that she had jumped out of the frying pan into the fire, but married life proved a sad disappointment. She found Sir George physically unattractive. On her wedding night she had done her duty. Sir George had rolled on top of her, thrust away for a few minutes, and rolled off again. It didn’t hurt (she had feared it might) but it left her indifferent. Afterwards she lay awake wondering if this was all there was to it, that thing that everyone made such a fuss about. Since then Sir George had been sparing in his demands, not requiring her services above once a month. For this, Caroline was grateful, but it did not make for satisfaction.

And then she met Henry. He was a distant relative of Sir George, who had come to stay for a week. In no time at all he had seduced Caroline, with, it should be said, no little encouragement on her part. All at once she discovered the joys of s*x. Sir George suspected nothing (and might not have cared even if he had). She and Henry would go for walks in the woods, where he would strip her naked and make minute inspections of her body, demonstrating to her the particular pleasures that could be derived from the right caresses applied to each part. Caroline had always been a surreptitious masturbator, but she soon realised that orgasms were all the more pleasurable when induced by a skilled and handsome lover.

Henry demonstrated to her the delights of the various positions for intercourse, introduced her to c*********s, instructed her in exactly how to suck his c**k, and even surprised her one afternoon with a little light spanking. Secretly she rather hoped that he would try this again, perhaps a little harder, but it had not happened on that visit. Henry had promised he would come back again later in the year. But now, she thought sadly, that would not be.

The hatch flew open and a seaman came down the steps. “Which one of you is it to be?” he demanded. Caroline looked around to see if any of the girls would volunteer. Slowly, with obvious trepidation, Sally stepped forward. The man took her hand and led her up the stairs. The hatch closed. The girls sat there in the dark, wondering what was happening up on deck. Caroline hoped Sally would not be mistreated. If she were, she resolved she would speak to the captain.

When Sally returned the girls were eager to hear about her experience.

“Did they hurt you?” one of them asked nervously.

“No, they were rough but not cruel. I’ve had worse.”

“How many of them?”

“Three,” she said. “But not all at once. One after the other.”

“How?” asked another girl. “I mean, how did they do it exactly?”

Caroline was surprised by how explicit the questions were. But they came not from prurience, but from a need for reassurance, should one of them be next.

“Funnily enough,” Sally said, “they all wanted it from behind. Doggy-style.”

“Did you have to suck them?” another girl asked anxiously.

“That’s what they all wanted,” Sally said. “I hoped that if I gave them good head they’d come before they could f**k me. I reckon I must not be good enough at it.” She gave a little laugh, though there was not much mirth in it.

The hatch opened again. A man came down the stairs and beckoned to Caroline.

“Again?” Sally asked. “He must like you a lot.”

Perhaps he does, Caroline said to herself. As for herself, she was beginning to think the captain was not disagreeable company. But she wasn’t about to forget why she was here, to be sold into slavery. When she got to the captain’s cabin, she found him standing again by the porthole. He pointed to some garments on a chair.

“Those are the best I could find,” he said.

Caroline picked them up. There was a dress in pale green silk, some stays and some white cotton stockings. Nothing underneath, it appeared. She looked around for somewhere to change. The captain motioned to an alcove, in which she could see a bunk. She stepped in and drew the curtain which screened it. Nothing prevented the captain drawing back the curtain, should he be so inclined, but he allowed her to dress in privacy. She drew on the stockings, tying them up with the white satin ribbons that were attached. The stays were tight, nipping in her waist and pushing her breasts up and outwards. The dress was an excellent fit, except that the neckline was lower than anything Caroline had ever dared. Her n*****s were only just covered, and her breasts swelled over the top, twin globes of peachy white. When she had put the clothes on she looked around for some shoes, and pulled back the curtain to enquire if there were any.