“Yes, Master.”
“Then you will deliver what is mine, madam.”
Standing back a pace, he regards me in the mirror; watches himself as, a hand on each breast, he kneads and squeezes at my soft flesh. Then, raising a finger to my chin, he steers my head around. “See yourself in the glass.”
Fascinated I watch as a reflected thumb nudges a nipple, flicking back and forth, raising it to a hard, puckered button, rose-pink over milky skin.
Somewhere within, I am melting, dissolving, the whole of me flowing out through my… my… What is the word for this? What is the word I have heard the crew use? When speaking of their women?
… my cunny…
At the thought of the word, my juices pump, hot and free. In the mirror, my master’s nostrils flare. His chin lifts and his dark eyes fix on mine. “Time for more.”
He steps across the room, tugging the curtains closed across the window, then with a speed and strength I did not expect, he lifts me, a hand under each of my buttocks, depositing me to sit perched, shivering and quaking, on the table.
Pressing forward with a hint of that restrained violence, he sets palms between my knees, spreading them wide. Then standing between, my sex open to him, he draws the fingernails of one hand to graze over the skin, tender, hot and slick, of my inner thigh; slicing in, drawing arrows of pain that aim directly for my sex.
I am trembling violently but not with fear. My master will not harm me. I know this. But my body responds to his particular variety of harsh tenderness in a way that was an utter mystery to me only two days prior.
I want more…
Gradually, inexorably, his fingers approach my entrance. He takes a moment to linger, winding a single digit in a spiral about that sweet spot of pleasure he showed me the evening before. Shivering, I moan.
“Very good, my sweet.” He casts down, eye-pointing me to his own hand. “Now, look at what I am doing to you. And at what I am going to do.”
Dropping my gaze, I watch as, with three fingers, he plunges inside me, pumping hard at my swollen flesh, thrusting deep. Then, pressing in, he twists his wrist, re-angling his movement, reaching up and in and forward, scraping inside me.
Pleasure ricochets through my core. My flesh pulses around him, gripping and clutching and a cry escapes me… No, a wail… as I fling myself forward at this new, intense and unexpected sensation. My master captures me with his free arm, holding me tight, pressing his lips to my hair as his hand moves back and forth within me.
Abruptly, he ceases, withdrawing, leaving me empty and shuddering. In a smooth motion, he releases me, pulls up a chair and turns it to face me. Then, seating himself, between my still splayed thighs, he says, “Rest your feet on my shoulders.”
“Master?”
His brow knits. “Do not question me on every occasion, Josephine. Rest your feet over my shoulders. I wish to look at you.”
My mouth flaps but I obey, laying the soles of my feet on his shoulders and lying flat down on the tabletop.
“No, not like that.” He rises again, leaving my legs dangling. “I want you to see.” Snatching up a pair of pillows from the bed, he briefly supports me at the shoulders as he props me up. Then, resuming his position on the chair, he takes my ankles and swings them back to rest over his shoulders.
Now I can see my master’s face as he examines me. He begins at my knees, long slow caresses as he strokes my pale flesh. His finger pads are a little roughened; tiny burrs that almost-but-not-quite scratch my own tender skin. As he moves inwardly, my breathing shudders and without meaning to, setting back on my hands, I raise my hips, reaching for him.
He lifts his gaze to mine. “That’s good. That’s much better. I can give you a little more now.” Raising his hand, he displays the three fingers together again, then, holding my eyes all the while, he aims down and inward.
Fascinated, I watch the fingers as they hover at my entrance… then easing forward… penetrate me. The hand twists until the palm faces up, the fingers rubbing and scraping inside me, and something gushes.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs. “Warm and wet, just as a woman should be for her lover.” Abruptly, he pushes hard, probing more deeply. Then, just as abruptly, he withdraws, bringing his fingers up. “Look.”
He offers a forefinger to his mouth, slick and shiny, and I watch in fascination as he slips it in, then slowly withdrawing it again, sucks away the juices coating the skin.
Displaying it to me once more, “You see? How I taste you. The hors d'oeuvre. Now…”
He ducks his hand down and between my legs once more, then raises it, offering glistening fingers to my mouth, swiping the pads over my lips. “Your turn… Open your mouth.”
Tentatively, I lick at my lips, at the flavour of my own… essence. It is not so unpleasant as I believed it might be.
His tone hardens. “Will you comply, Josephine? Obey me. Open your mouth.” Parting my lips, I obey him, and he inserts the fingers. “Taste yourself. Lick me clean.”
Uncertainly, I draw my tongue over his hand. The fingers taste of salt and citrus and something else… Something I do not recognise as part of myself.
“That’s better.” He removes his hand from my mouth, but still holds it close. “Now lick the palm and between the fingers.”
And that something, which before I tasted, I can now scent. The scent of my ardour?
As I mouth away my own juices from his skin, he rests his forehead on mine, watching my movements as I obey him. “Good girl… That’s very good. Now, tell me what you taste.”
“Salt, Master. And lemon perhaps.”
“Yes, those were my thoughts also.” Then, pushing inside once more, pressing down on my jaw, he forces my mouth wide. “How much do you know?”
I cannot speak properly, gargling my reply. His mouth quirks and he removes the fingers. “Try again. How much do you know?”
“Of what, Master?”
“Of this.” He presses down on my tongue. “Do you understand that more than just my hand may penetrate you here?”
For a moment, I do not take his meaning, then shock ricochets through bone and flesh. “You want to…” My eyes drop and I cannot complete my words.
His member?
His manhood…
In my mouth…?
Spilling his seed?
He whispers by my face. “Yes… that is what I am going to do. But in a while. For now, you may consider the idea while I take my pleasure of you in other ways.”
Dismay still clatters at my sensibilities. “Ma... Master… I do not believe…” I am stammering. “Master…”
My words are cut short. “Yes, Master. That is the correct word. You will obey me. Now, shush…”
Abruptly, he seizes me at the knees, sliding me across the tabletop, dragging me bodily towards him as he drops his face to the vee of my thighs. His hands clasping me tightly at the rear, he locks eyes with me for the briefest of moments, flashing me that wicked, dazzling smile, then stooping in close, he draws his tongue the length of my sex.
From the tight valley of my buttocks, sliding through the hot folds of my pulsing and swollen cunny and up to the small bud where, as my master has already demonstrated, he can give me such pleasure. Struggling with the sheer intensity of the sensation that sizzles through me, I wail a response.
His hold on me grows tighter, gripping me hard, preventing my movement as he lingers by the nub, winding his tongue-tip in the smallest of circles around the tiny thing. Pulsing inside, scalding juices spill from me and with a deep, throaty sound of satisfaction, he licks them away. Open-mouthed, he moves over me, lapping and sucking, swiping away my nectar, before fastening himself over my entrance and plunging in his tongue.
Within me, it circles and spirals, my flesh responding, vibrating to his touch. The vibration becomes a pulse. The pulse becomes a throb. And as my master sucks at my flow, drinking me in, my rapture bursts free. Lightning strikes, piercing my belly, streaking down through my thighs,
sparking and crackling through my sex. My heart hammers and the blood pounds behind my ears.
I try to buck. Try to break free of his grasp. But all the while he works his sorcery on me, he clasps me tight as I shudder and scream through this shattering experience, this earthquake of the flesh.
“Oh, God, Master… Stop. Please… Stop!”
He releases me immediately, sitting back, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth, delight dancing in his eyes as he watches me descend to earth again.
My chest still heaves and stars swim behind my eyes. “Why, Master?”
His head inclines. “Why what?”
“Why do they not tell us? Always, I have been instructed that the pleasures of the flesh were not… not acceptable. But how can this not be seen as what it is? A wonderful thing. A glorious thing.”
He chuckles. “Because, my sweet, it is not every man who wishes to take the care to do this. It is a fact not always acknowledged, that it is more difficult for those of the female sex to achieve true delight, than it is for their men.”
“It is?”
“Oh, yes.”
I flounder up into a sitting position. “But, Master, I want to give this to you also.”
That smile crinkles around his eyes. “I am pleased to hear it.” He rises from his seat, stands back a little, then motions me also to rise. “How do you feel, Josephine?”
How do I feel?
“There is fire inside me, Master.”
“Good. That is as it should be.” He winds a finger in a circle. “Turn around and bend forward over the table.”
I obey him, my breasts flattening against the cool timber surface. Behind me, hands settle onto my buttocks, squeezing and caressing. Booted feet ease between my bare ankles, moving them apart. “Further.”
Compliantly, I move, parting my feet. His voice, its rich tones of gold and honey, rolls over me. “No, more than that.”
“Master, I will fall.”
“No, you will not. The table is supporting you. Now open up. Give yourself to me. Open as far as you can.”
Stretching myself wide, I follow my captain’s bidding. The tabletop is just a little low, causing my spine to arch, my hips to be more prominent… More easily accessed.
What happens next?
“Spread out your arms,” he instructs. “Grip the far edge of the tabletop… You may turn your head to face the mirror.”
Again, I obey. I can see my master’s face but not quite my own. His head swings from side to side, then he lowers himself, resting his face by mine, checking the reflection.
Kissing my cheek, he stands again and adjusts the position of the mirror. Now I have a perfect view: myself spread-eagled and naked, my master, still fully clothed but the evidence of his ardour pressing hard against the front of his breeches, outlined in light and shade by the glimmering light of the lamps,
So handsome…
As to myself, what do I see?
The smooth lines of my calves and thighs. Muscle trembling under the tension of my widely spread feet. I had not previously appreciated how long my legs are. They rise to the pale rounds of my buttocks, and the area framed between; brilliant red, glistening in the light, producing a thin liquid trail which gleams as it trickles over my skin.
My master moves to stand close behind, his hands smoothing and circling over me; hard palms over firm flesh; fingers digging in, kneading at me with those long fingers. With his movement, the light shifts over his long hair, casting highlights in amber and bronze. His eyes, always dark, are the black of a moonless night.
His reflection, wearing the smile of a fallen angel, looks back to me. He raises a hand, palm outstretched. “And now, we begin…”
Begin?
But I have no time for further speculation.
In disbelief, I watch as the hand raises further, swoops and descends on my tender rear with a Slap!
I gasp, buck and try to rise, but he plants a hand between my shoulders, pinning me. The free hand rams into me from the rear, penetrating me, pumping in and out… There is laughter in his voice. “Yes, madam. I thought you would enjoy that…”
“Enjoy?” Outraged, I try again to rise, but am still restrained at the back.
“Yes, enjoy.” My master slants a smile down to me. “Do not pretend outrage, Josephine. You are wetter than a shaking dog. The carnal pleasures appeal to you.” And with that, the hand withdraws, raises and slaps again, this time on the other cheek, hard enough to ripple flesh and raise blood to the skin.
I jerk at the sting, this time yelping loudly. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, come, my sweet. We are beyond the need to be coy. You may lie to me or even to yourself. But your body will always respond with the truth.”
Panting, I fall still.
Is he right?
The reflection pauses, hand upheld, holding my eyes. It tilts its head, raising questioning brows. “Eh, my love?”
My love?
Something warm blooms inside me… “Master… whatever you wish.”
“Good…” He strokes over my rear. “I wish to make your arse bloom like a rose. And then I intend to fuck you until you scream.”
I am naked in front of a man to whom I surrendered my maidenhead only the night before. I did not believe I was capable of deeper embarrassment.
I was wrong.
His language brings the blood to my face as his hand descends once more, delivering another biting stroke to my rear. The air huffs from my lungs as the pain cuts in. Then again. And again.
Am I simply being used?
Something pricks at the back of my eyes. “Master… I thought we… I thought… Last night… You made love to me.” My words turn to a wail. “I don’t want to do this.”
Hand raised and at the ready, he pauses. The wicked smile fades and the hand falls to his side.
He snaps fingers, gesturing me up. As I twist and rise, he sits, pulling me onto his lap, wrapping strong arms around me.
He kisses into the crook of my neck. “Your pardon, my love. I am driving too far and too fast for you. ‘Twas not my intent. I truly believed you were enjoying it.”
I sniffle. “You stopped because I asked?”
He stiffens next to me. “Of course I did. What kind of man do you take me for?”
One who enjoys beating my buttocks scarlet…
But only if he believes I am enjoying it too…
“Oh… I suppose… I suppose that’s different then. If you will stop when I ask…”
He seizes my hand squeezing tightly at the fingers. “Always. Always, my love. Whatever we are doing… Whatever I am doing… If you ask it. I will stop.” He holds me in his embrace, rocking me. “Would you prefer to sleep now?”
“No, Master.”
His head twists to look me in the face. “No?”
“No, Master. I have not yet given you the pleasures you have given me.”
“Ah…” I can hear the smile in his voice. A rumble emanates from deep in his chest. “Josephine, stand up.”
I clamber from his lap and he stands also, snatching up one of the pillows and placing on the floor.
“On your knees, Josephine.”
“My knees, Master?”
“Ye gods, girl.” He raises eyes ceilingward. “You don’t have to repeat everything I say. You heard me the first time. Kneel.”
He offers a hand, aiding my descent as, cushioned against the hard floor, I fall to my knees. My master stands before me, looking down, a slight smile playing now over his lips. He raises a finger. “Remain there.”
I watch as he removes his boots then reaches for the buttons of his breeches. One button. Two. The flap falls loose, and he tugs the tails of his shirt free, lifts the garment over his head and tosses it onto the table. Then shrugging off his breeches, he stands before me once more, naked.
His manhood, swollen, upright and stiff, is directly before me, swinging so slightly to a pulse-beat rhythm, as though keeping time on some chronome
ter. As long as my hand and wrist together, it stands, shiny red-purple, veins winding blue under the skin, a glistening droplet shivering on the crown.
I have only to lean forward a little and…
“Josephine?” My master cocks a brow, the question there.
I look up, smile and open my mouth.
And he smiles too, a white gleam of teeth in the half-light. He caresses my face and hair. “Thank you, Josephine.” Then guiding himself with a hand, he slides the droplet over my lips.
Unsure what exactly I am supposed to do, I lap at the dewdrop, its bitter-sweet flavour like nothing I have tasted before, washing it inside my mouth...
Embrace the experience…
Then, taking my courage in both hands, I wrap my lips around the head, warm and satiny-soft. Larger than I ever imagined, I must stretch my jaws wide to take it. So close to my master, his scent, spicy and masculine, laves me, and stray coiled hairs tickle my face.
“Close your mouth around me, Josephine. Suck and lick, but keep your teeth away…”
I chuckle…
My teeth…
I imagine that would be alarming to a man.
I have power…
And with this unexpected revelation, I take the shaft into my mouth, as much of its length as I am able. My master groans, his palm wrapping around the back of my head as he eases in and out; slowly, carefully.
Despite the long… preparations… leading to this moment, I think the experience is going to be brief for him. Already, his thighs tremble. His groin quivers. A thin but steady stream exudes over my tongue. It is a strange sensation at first, to be sure, but with growing familiarity, I accept it eagerly, lapping and sucking for this toothsome evidence of my master’s passion, swallowing it down.
His trembling waxes. Abruptly he stoops, seizing my hand and placing it between his thighs to cup the swinging sacs there. “Caress them. And squeeze a little, but only a little.”
Another new experience. Crinkled skin, warm and soft in my palm, contrasts with firm centres which shift inside as gently, I squeeze and rub.
My master inhales, coughs and grunts.
Jolting, he leans forward, both hands dropping to my shoulders, fingers gripping in. And in a gush, his seed pulses over my tongue in a creamy, briny delectable flow.
Pirates, Passion and Plunder Page 119
