She was amazed to feel the rigidity of his muscles, and intrigued by his nipples hardening to echo hers. She suddenly realised he was aroused, not by hatred of her, but in the way any red-blooded man is at the sight of a naked woman. She too felt a swimming feeling in her thighs and a tingle in her breasts. As she did so, a tiny bead of milk teased out of her nipple. She saw his brow lift in fascination, a hunger glint in his eyes.
Maybe, just maybe she could use her womanly wiles to save herself. Staring at him brazenly, she lifted her finger to her breast, lifted off the tiny white bead of sweet milk then eased it down his shirt, onto his nipple. Curious and amazingly erotic, that a man’s nipples could be as sensitive as a maid’s but they were. Moist and slippery, they pebbled under her ministrations. Once her milk-moistened finger had brought him to two hard peaks, she slowly undid the buttons on his shirt and parted it. She dipped her head down, and enclosed one brown peak at his chest with her mouth. She tasted her own sweet milk and it fired her. Soon, she was determined, it would fire him. She bit lightly. Under her lips she felt him tense, felt his chest fill with air which he held while she worked away, sucking and nibbling whirling her tongue round his salty flesh.
Humility was beginning to enjoy herself, beginning to feel like a bitch on heat, like she had never felt with any other man. Other men she had allowed to share her bed had leapt upon her like rutting rabbits, satisfying their own urges then tumbling off leaving her cold. But this man took his pleasures slowly. Besides, this was a game. Captain Blarne had strength and power but Humility knew she had power over him. The power of a maid who knows things. For had she not seen the way the lad in the hammock had tasted and pleasured the Midshipman? Like a lightening flash, Humility’s quick intellect sparked that she had learnt a new lesson that night in her hammock.
Seeing a man pleasure a man surely had let her into secrets few women were privy to. It was new territory for Humility but of a sudden she desperately wanted to taste the Captain’s manhood on her tongue. The jewels he had decorated her with made her feel like a queen. She knelt down before him, and heard him gasp. Somehow she knew the Captain, smelling of expensive French soap was too fastidious to consort with the whores in port. How long was it since he had had a maid bounce in his bed? And how many of the high born women he may have consorted with would have feasted upon him on their precious aristocratic knees? None, if the hungry moan he let out was any indication.
Humility undid the knot of his trousers and watched his breeches ease apart as the magnificent cock beneath them swelled. She lifted out his manhood, she eased her fingers along its length. It was extraordinary, perfect, massive, exuding power. As a trickle of spunk exuded from the end, she rubbed her thumb in it, just like she had seen the Midshipman do to the lad, and was rewarded with a soft low growl emanating from the Captain’s depths. He was a big cat purring. The end of his cock trembled to attention. Cupping his shaft in both her hands she gently pulled at his length. As she did so, she opened her mouth wide and slipped it over his rock-hard cock. He smelled clean, of expensive cologne from France. Humility found the more she sucked at him, the more she imagined his cock inside her. Just thinking of it made her pump him frantically, faster, more insistently as her hand pressed and pummelled his veiny shaft.
Until suddenly, he pushed her harshly away. She fell back against the bunk in the corner, terrified. Had she displeased him? Was he going to strike her? Lying before him, jewels dripping from her, his moistened cock proudly pointed at her, the taste of him bitter in her mouth, she held her breath. What was her fate now? Then, urgently, he pulled off his trousers, clambered up on the bunk and grasped her breast. He squeezed it between finger and thumb, intoxicated as a tiny squirt of honeyed milk sprayed towards him. Again he squeezed and watched, his mouth opening as her milk dribbled and ran down his hand. Still kneading her, milking her, he brought his tongue down and rasped it across her nipple. Her cunny throbbed at the sight of him lapping her up. When he took her whole breast in his mouth and suckled hungrily, she felt her life-giving juice milked out of her. Watched tiny bubbles of it exude from his hungry lips.
He was harsh, punishing but sweet, his rough chin scraping her delicate skin. Pleasure and pain mingled as he sucked harder. Between his hands he moulded and pummeled the round mounds of her behind as he gloried in her neat little breast. Once he’d sucked it dry, he moved to the other. Bringing one hand up, again he grasped and pulled at her until the milk came. With one gutteral moan of exquisite pleasure he allowed the warm breast-juice to spray over his face, on his chin, into his mouth. He took the second nipple between his teeth and nibbled causing flurries of warmth to invade her moistening crotch. Then he took his fill of her. Like a hungry dog gulping at his bowl, he supped at her tit, reddening it, causing blotches of passion to form over the cherry red nipple.
Ignited so that the tiny cabin windows steamed up, a light gleamed in his eye. He was going to change direction. He thrust her down so she lay spreadeagled. Then turned his back to her so that his glorious firm arse cheeks were facing her. As he knelt, his cock dangled between them above her face. His head ready and waiting, he poised over her bush. With his head facing her feet, he pulled her thighs apart and pressed his mouth over her pussy. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. No man had ever kissed her there. It was madness, vileness, against all nature. And yet as she felt his moist lapping, his fingers easing her apart, it sent shocks of desire like lightening bolts up her cunny and into the pit of her stomach. Like a crazed animal he was tasting her, probing her in the most obscene but wholly pleasurable way. Any stiffness in her limbs went. She closed her eyes to revel in the feel of his tongue swirling around the peak of her budded flower. What in God’s good name was that curiously intoxicating feeling, like waves breaking over her? The noise of him sinking his tongue in and out of her was like a dog at its bowl, appalling but fabulously animalistic. The more he ate her the more she wanted to be consumed.
In a moment she realised that she was meant to give as good as she got. The waving cock dripping before her mouth was quivering for relief. She planted her lips around it and started to suck it lustily. This sent the Captain wild. She could hear him moan loudly as he thrust his tongue deep in her cunny, revelled in the taste of her like a starving man at a royal banquet. His magnificent prick filled her mouth.
She cupped his balls as she fucked his cock with her mouth. Each squeeze brought him to new heights of energy as he worked furiously at her puss, faster and faster until she could bear it no more, lifted her hips to him and felt herself exude warm waves of come juice inside his mouth as he pumped at her over and over with his tongue. Exhausted, she let go his prick and slumped back into the bunk.
‘Oh no, my pretty maid.’ He scrambled around to face her, kneeling over her. ‘I haven’t finished with you yet.’ And with that, he spread her legs, positioned his monster cock at her slickly wet opening, and drove himself into her. He filled her perfectly. He raised her knees up over his shoulders and rammed her like she had seen the Gunners ram their guns with powder. She was exposed, at his mercy, trussed and trapped and merely a vessel for his drilling need. Again and again, he rammed and shunted, sweat trickling down his chest, his thighs bearing his and her weight while he used and fucked her into delirium. Then, thank heaven, finally, he went off like a cannon. He exploded into her with a yell which signalled pure animal satisfaction borne of too many nights tossing alone in his creaking bunk.
Humility had experienced her own storm at sea. She gripped the lavender scented linen sheets, a taste of luxury she had never had. Of all the fates she had imagined, it wasn’t this. The Captain laying beside her, snored gently. Her body seemed to stand on end after his attentions. She studied his face. At rest, it pleased her. Not conventionally handsome, it was proud and strong, wise and knowing. She could do with a man like that instead of all the ne’er do wells she had known.
Carefully she squeezed out of the covers
and went to the other side of the room to get her clothes. Slipping into them quietly, hair tucked away, she was a boy again, apart from the sparkling jewels still at her neck. They were warm now, cold no longer. She stared at the sleeping Captain. Theirs had been a moment of madness. Now, she supposed they would go back to playing their roles. What would be the point in him exposing her? If she got out now, maybe he would spare her, think nothing more of her. She moved over to the bed, lifted the jewels carefully off her neck and placed them on the pillow beside him. She was no thief. She may have murdered a man but that was in self defence. As she lay the pearls silently by the Captain, of a sudden his hand shot out to grab hers.
Humility jumped out of her skin. ‘Don’t go.’ His grey eyes curiously gentle for such a strong man were irresistible. ‘Stay, drink wine with me.’
‘What about the storm? What about your ship? You’re always there on the bridge, checking on the men.’
‘I can let them be for now, they know what they’re doing,’ he uttered. ‘And so do I. Stay my boy,’ he winked. ‘Stay here with me in the eye of the storm.’
Humility looked at the warm bed with its white sheets. She looked at the Captain’s scar and remembered the stern way he ordered his men. ‘No,’ she replied.
He loosed his hold on her and his brows raised in a question. ‘No?’ He sat up wrapping the sheet about him and gently pulled her to sit beside him.
‘No.’ Her lip jutted in determination. ‘You can throw me to the men, make me walk the plank, do your worst. But I left my motherland, a land I love because a man drove me to murder him. I have left my beautiful baby, my little son because I trusted a man and believed his lies. He said he would care for me, told me words of love. Then he showed me what it truly is to hate. He threatened my baby, the thing which is most dear to me. Do you think I would willingly fall into any man’s arms again? Even yours with all your power and fine ways. No, Captain. I will not lightly be at any man’s beck and call again. I am going now. I would rather die in torment than be any man’s slave.’ She pulled away, but he held her be. He turned her shoulders to face him, wiped away the tear that had formed at the corner of her eye.
‘What is your real name?’
‘Humility Chastaine, captain.’
‘Humility, hmm... One of the definitions of that name can be a modest or low view of one’s own importance. But that is not you Humility. I knew from the first time I saw you that you were different. It took me a while to guess your secret and only by close observation. You have pluck, spirit. You are, Humility, exactly the kind of woman I would want to take to the New World.’ He bowed his head. ‘I was married, once. To a pretty creature. She was like a doll and just as fragile. She was lost to me in the birthing of a daughter. My daughter, poor little mite, did not survive to see the sunset on the day she was born. I lost my two jewels then and I have been searching for meaning ever since. You are the first woman I have filled with my seed since then. Something about you has touched me. We are both fugitives from life. We are both looking to be reborn.
Humility, I do not want a slave. I want a helpmate. I want a woman strong enough to withstand the vigours of a new and savage land. Above all things I want a son and you have one looking for a father. I am hardened and damaged enough,’ he stroked the scar across his face, ‘to know that this may not work out. But when I form a plan I carry it through. That way of living has served me well in life, brought me success and prosperity.’ He loosened her hand, but Humility did not pull it away, she let it lay soft in his lap.
‘What say we keep your secret between us, just you and I and I can appoint you my personal purser to see to my needs on ship? There are many more nights at sea before we reach the New World and I have a yearning not to be alone for any more of them. I need the warmth of a woman in my bed. There is no better way to get to know someone’s ways than on a long sea voyage. Then, when we get to the New World, try your luck with me. We could make a new life together. If we have as much energy for each other as we did just now, we will do well. We can even bring over your son. I am offering you a future. Throw in your lot with me Humility.’ His strong arm took hers, and sat her on his knee. As she lay her head on his chest she wondered if just perhaps when they got to the New World and he bought his farm and gave up the seas whether they mightn’t indeed do very well together. It was a dream but as that nice Mr Shakespeare said, these could be, ‘such things as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.’ So, Humility slept and so did her Captain, warm at her side.
In time, he was as good as his word. They threw their lot in together. The New World gave them both a new life. And not just them, for the Captain made one more voyage, to bring over Humility’s son. That son, who worked the farm and made his fortune on the land they bought with the Captain’s jewels and was as good a son to Captain Blarne as any youth could be.
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