Marcellus waited for the climax to subside. ‘That is the last time,’ he informed her, stepping heavily on the corona of her hair as he stood over her, ‘that you will orgasm without permission. Is that clear?’
Tesra looked up at him in awe, the god he was rapidly becoming to her. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘You will crawl into my bed,’ he told her. ‘Facedown, ankles and wrists spread to their maximum. ‘It’s time I test the value of my prize.’
‘Yes,’ she repeated, the phrase seemingly tireless on her lips, ‘sir.’
Vorra would have preferred any fate to this. Being called to the chambers of Rodrigo so early in the day, when the man was still sober, could only mean one thing. He intended to dispose of her, for whatever reasons suited him. The captain’s second-in-command needed none, of course. Behind Marcellus his word was law. Having to answer to the handsome, able pirate king had made Rodrigo furious with jealousy, though, and the helpless slave girls were ever his target. The fact that the spoiled little bitch Drusia did not have to lick and kiss the arse of this man and to a lesser extent the slave keeper Montrego, was due to her special position as the captain’s unofficial lapdog.
Vorra saw the knife thrust into the tabletop and fell at once to her belly. Slithering across the wooden deck, she covered the man’s heavy black boots with soft stabs of her tongue. ‘May this slave please you, master?’ she pleaded throatily, seeking to dissuade him from whatever darker violence he had in mind. ‘Let Vorra fetch your favorite bullwhip for you. Or will you allow her to beg for the privilege of master’s cock in one of her unworthy holes?’
‘Get up, bitch,’ the man snarled. ‘Or you’ll be sporting with the sharks soon enough.’
Vorra rose gracefully to her feet, where she knew she stood half a chance of saving her life. ‘Your slave is hot for you, master,’ she purred, boldly guiding his hand between her legs to her sopping hole. It had always been this way for her - juicing at the first sign of strength in a man, displaying her readiness to obey and to please.
Rodrigo, hardly one to be distracted from his purpose by a pretty cunt, one among dozens, hundreds in the armada as a whole, seized the womb of the tall and once stately beauty. ‘Your chatter is giving me a headache,’ he snarled, forcing her onto tiptoes. ‘You talk too much, Vorra. All you sluts do. Bothar has the right idea - the lot of you should be kept on hands and knees, barking for your supper.’
Vorra thought of Kasandra, whom Bothar had taken a shine to. As a result of the man’s affections she was now deprived, in the men’s presence at least, of every dignity as a human being. She peed on all fours, ate on all fours and took her fuckings and beatings on all fours as well. And yet to see her look into the eyes of the hard-faced, red-bearded master was to see nothing but utter love and devotion. This was a level of degradation Vorra would never slip to herself, namely falling in love with any of her masters. If she were to sink to that level she would have no hope, no rights ever again.
‘I am an animal,’ she acknowledged, espousing the beliefs of the second-in-command. ‘I deserve only to be treated as one.’
‘That is correct,’ he rotated his hand, turning her to jelly. ‘You are a domestic beast. Feel your arse, tell me what is there.’
She slid her fingers over the scars from the many whippings, knowing it was not these he wanted her to speak of, but rather the mark. ‘I have a brand, master.’
‘Do they brand human beings, Vorra?’
‘No, master, only animals.’
‘Domestic animals, that’s right. Rodrigo’s fingers were clenched tightly on Vorra’s left nipple, plunging her into immediate, though silent agony. If there was one thing she knew from experience, it was that the cruel pirate lieutenant did not like to be interrupted while he was torturing a helpless slave girl. If he wanted screams, he would most certainly ask for them.
‘Would you like me to stop, Vorra?’
‘Whatever master wishes,’ she gasped, her chest heaving.
‘But if I gave you the choice,’ he pressured. ‘What would you pick?’
‘For master to be strong,’ she looked up into his eyes. ‘To keep me in my place.’
‘What is your place, Vorra?’
The slave’s eyes glazed over. It was Rodrigo controlling her body now, dictating her responses as she moved against his hand, pushing herself closer to be loved, to be hurt. ‘On master’s leash,’ she hissed. ‘At master’s feet. Crawling. Begging.’
‘As a human being?’
‘As an animal, master. As a bitch.’
‘Get down, then, on all fours, bitch. And I will tell you why I had you brought here today.’ Rodrigo released her, pushing her back.
Vorra assumed the position for her master, having no idea whether he would fuck her or whip her or both.
‘We have a common enemy,’ said he to the girl, choosing her cunt for his satisfaction.
‘Yes, master,’ she breathed as he filled her, giving her life and purpose.
‘The captain,’ he thrust himself into her vanquished canal. ‘He denies us both; I my place as king and you your place as first among the slaves.’
‘He favors Drusia, master.’
‘The captain is not strong,’ Rodrigo declared, clamping Vorra’s hips so as to take her with the utmost brutality. ‘He allows the slave bitch Drusia to wrap him round her finger. And now there is the new one. The gods alone know where he got her from or why he treats her like a piece of Talassian crystal. His only explanation is a story only an idiot would believe.’
‘You are not an idiot, master,’ she moaned. ‘And you are strong. Very strong.’
‘I should be king,’ he decided, withdrawing himself to smack her arse with his cupped hand.
Vorra stretched to meet the blow. ‘Yes, master. You alone are worthy. You are my king and my lord.’
‘And you are a worthless liar,’ he slammed his palm against her, the calloused skin impacting her with the ferocity of wood or leather. ‘You speak what is required to save yourself.’
‘Yes, master.’ The girl did not point out his illogic, that if she were capable of deception, then she must surely be a creature of much greater sophistication than a brute beast. The fact was, it was Rodrigo who was the beast and she did not imagine for a moment that he was not capable of following through his threat to throw her to the sharks if she displeased him.
She’d seen it done before, most recently to a pretty little Iletian girl, barely eighteen, taken as booty from an ill-fated betrothal galleon transporting her to her fiancé on an island further down the archipelago. The girl had been slow in obeying him, refusing to lick his bulbous cock in front of her captured crew. She must have been some sort of royalty, given her fine silks and seashell-studded tiara of bronze. Rodrigo had sheared the nuptial gown from her body with his bare hands and repeated the command.
Still she resisted. ‘Mercy,’ she begged, employing the Iletian words. ‘I no understand.’
Rodrigo had not hesitated to lift her bodily, carrying her to the stern of the ship, tossing her like a sack of grain. It was a joke among the crew that whenever the man was at the helm the sharks followed closely, in anticipation of a good meal. The captain had been below at the time with Drusia. Perhaps there was something in what Rodrigo was saying; Marcellus was getting soft. And certainly Drusia was a spoiled cunt; there was no argument there either.
Vorra thought once more of the Iletian, a mere slip of a girl, naked and squirming, her incredibly long hair, silky black hanging down to the deck as Rodrigo carted her. And a moment later how she’d looked, her jade-green eyes wide with horror, terror on her shapely lips as he did the unthinkable.
‘Please,’ she had screamed from the water, her knowledge of the pirate’s language showing a sudden and marked improvement. ‘Masters, do not leave Mayleesha! Mayleesha will suck you! M
ayleesha suck every man-cock! Mayleesha promise good fuck!’
The screaming could still be heard as the ship sailed away, a shark unto itself, the greatest predator in the deep.
‘Come on my hand,’ commanded Rodrigo, seizing her sex.
Vorra released herself instantly. Unlike a free woman, a slave did not choose the time and place of her orgasms. Nor was she afforded the luxury of gentle seduction, or even the dignity of being satisfied by a man’s natural endowment as opposed to some object of his choosing. At first, when Vorra had been sold to a traveling carnival and minstrel show, it had been difficult to climax on command, like a trained seal. Gregov, the brilliant, mercurial and oft times vicious walker of high wires had taught her that art all too well.
A slave must surrender her will totally, turning it over, along with her body. Thus does she watch herself and get turned on by behaving as a shameless slut. To receive a command to come was a very sexy thing, in other words, something that in itself aroused a woman. Gregov had taken her body to soaring heights using this principle.
And he also lowered her to unimaginable depths, forcing her to beg for pain, to lick and kiss the edge of his knife, to rub her belly against the blade till she came and came and came.
Never once did he injure her, save for her pride. She became his beast in every sense of the word and had she the choice she would be unable to surrender her sleeping place in the small steel cage by his bedside for the dowry of a princess.
Vorra continued to shudder and shake, her juices pouring over Rodrigo’s hand. The orgasm was for his pleasure not for hers. He did not have to tell her to look him in the eye. This was his way, total domination and overpowering will. If she felt pleasure, it was against her will, a suffering, even, that only marked her more fully as his property.
‘On your knees, cunt.’ He rose to his feet.
Vorra knelt up, knowing she must spread her legs as widely as her muscles would allow.
‘Here is what you are going to do,’ said the next in line for the throne of the pirates, the loose confederation of a dozen mighty ships, as he thrust his hand into her mouth to be cleaned. Vorra proceeded to suck him clean of her juices, her eyes set longingly on the erection he had not yet seen fit to spill inside her. ‘I require information, my little pet. Concerning the yellow-haired slut. You will use every means at your disposal to learn who she really is and where she comes from. And you must do so in a way that will not reflect back on me, here or on my own ship. Is that clear?’
She nodded as best she could, the man’s fingers gaping her jaws. Among the pirates Rodrigo’s position was unique. As a captain he had his own vessel, but he also kept quarters here, on the flagship.
Satisfied, he withdrew his glistening hand, drying it on the top of her head. ‘I am counting on you, slut,’ said he, his manner and tone shifting to that deceptive softness the branded girl liked sometimes to pretend in her own mind was genuine affection for her. ‘Do not disappoint me.’
He played the blade of the hunting knife over her cheeks. It was an instrument she knew well. Without being told she opened her mouth, sliding her tongue along the flat of it. It was a game Rodrigo was fond of. The first few times Vorra had pissed herself in fear, but she had re-learned to enjoy it, feeling as with Gregov that sense of total helplessness and sexual charge as the man made love to her with the killing metal.
‘Fail me, Vorra,’ he ran the point down her throat and between her quivering breasts, ‘And I will devise a punishment that will leave you begging to be had by the sharks.’
Vorra arched her back, offering up her throbbing nipples. She was ready for him all over again. ‘Yes, master.’
He touched them one by one, eliciting the most delicious female moans. Truly Vorra was fortunate to have a man this strong. If only he would take her for himself and make her his exclusive property. Willingly would she absorb his wrath, becoming his perfect victim in everything.
‘The captain will not touch you again,’ Rodrigo decided.
Her heart leaped at the sudden possibility. Did he want her after all? Was she one of the things he was jealous over? ‘Master?’
He paused to drag the knife blade down her tummy, indicating how easily, by a mere twist of the wrist, he could slice her open. ‘If he does, I will have you killed.’
‘Yes, master.’ Vorra’s heart sank. It was hard to grasp the true meaning of these words. Was it a statement to her desirability, an admission to feelings on his part, or was it all part of his game with Marcellus? A men’s game, where women were booty, pretty baubles to be fought for and awarded as prizes.
Rodrigo pushed her down to the deck of his cabin. There were no more words, only the fire in his eyes as he parted her thighs and fell on top of her, one animal upon another, smaller, defenseless one, and Vorra exploded with him, forgetting to obtain permission.
But Rodrigo was lenient with her, having exhausted himself in the furious rutting. It was a rare moment, almost tender as she lay beneath him, her soft body a humble pillow for his masculine form. As his penis finally softened and slipped from her, Vorra whimpered, wondering for the first time if she might be in love with the man.
A moment later he was asleep, one hand clutching and misshaping her breast, the other entwined in her hair. ‘Sleep well, master,’ she whispered, his head on her chest, ensuring her captivity beneath him for as long as he slumbered. ‘Sweet dreams.’
Marcellus beheld the nude, golden-haired beauty spread-eagle on his bed. She was the very picture of male fantasy; her upturned bottom unbranded, unscarred, helpless to every predation; her back, virgin to the cat or long whip; her pussy, untouched by any mortal. The bonds that held her, silken cords from the boudoirs of the Talassian imperial court, only heightened the arousal factor. A lesser man would have taken his fill by now, claiming her maidenhood as his own. Marcellus, however, had a greater purpose. Or perhaps it was a lower one, more ignoble even than the potential ravishing of a captive nymph.
‘You must concentrate harder,’ said the pirate king, grazing his fingers incidentally over her swollen and exposed nether lips.
The light contact, following upon so much more of the same, an hour’s worth of teasing to be precise, threw the facedown Tesra into yet another set of spasms.
‘Oh please, sir,’ she thrashed, ‘do not touch me anymore.’
‘Very well,’ he offered graciously, ‘I shall stop.’
A moment later she was writhing worse than ever, squirming her sweat-soaked body into the already wet sheets. ‘Please, sir, touch me again...’
‘I will not, Tesra, until you tell me why I have taken you prisoner.’
The tousled blonde curls tossed side to side. ‘Sir, I do not know. Truly.’
He trailed a finger down her curved, sweat-glistening spine, enjoying the natural wonder of that dip between the girl’s back and buttocks. Would there come a time, he wondered, when he would have the luxury of branding one of those cheeks, burning into her skin forever his ownership of her body and soul?
It was not a thought he could afford, though. He had a purpose for the girl and it was not to relieve his sexual pressures. Hold me fast, Nephisis, he prayed silently to the mighty lord of the sea. Grant me skill and wisdom to open this most trying of oysters, even as I resist its most distracting charms.
‘Let us review, then,’ he massaged her bottom, unable to resist the urge to mentally stake out the best place for branding. ‘We have established in our conversation so far that I do not want ransom, isn’t that right?’
‘Yes, sir,’ she attempted for the millionth time to free herself.
‘And why is that?’
Tesra hesitated to repeat the insult he’d already fed her.
‘I’m waiting,’ he inserted a finger into her sex, deep enough to get her attention.
‘Because I do not have enoug
h value,’ she gasped, ‘to offset the trouble of a return trip to my island.’
‘Good.’ He impaled her more deeply. ‘And what gives a woman her value?
‘The way she pleases a man; how much he wants to... to sport with her.’
‘The word is “fuck”, my dear. Really, your teachers did you a tremendous disservice in your education to have overlooked entirely relations between the sexes.’
Tesra clenched her fists. She seemed tired of being helpless, and yet this was scarcely the beginning. ‘My teachers are the wisest seers in all the world,’ she protested. ‘By the hand of Persistrata, the sisters are given to know the mysteries of the heavens, to unlock the secrets of...’ The anally impaled girl froze. ‘That’s it, isn’t it? You’ve taken me in order to learn the secrets of the heavens. The ways of the sisterhood.’
Marcellus removed the finger and moved to the head of the bed. ‘Don’t be absurd,’ he scoffed, turning her head and forcing her to lick it clean. ‘The prattlings of a bunch of frigid women are of no use whatsoever to me. There is, however, something else you can do, my little yellow hair, something that does interest me enormously.’
Tesra sputtered under the humiliation of having to remove her own odor from his finger. ‘Please, stop it... I already told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Think about it,’ he coaxed, drying himself on the back of her hair. ‘A girl who can see into the navel of creation? Who can look up the skirts of the Mother of Life? Surely one so talented as you can help me locate a few fat treasure ships... preferably informing me of their courses a week or so before they set sail?’
Tesra had stilled herself. Turning her head as far as she could, she looked up into his eyes. The expression made him laugh.
‘I need a break.’ He slapped her arse good-naturedly. ‘You won’t mind hanging tight for a bit while I relieve myself?’
Marcellus strode to the door and called for Drusia. Yes, he was a genius. It was true. His plan was succeeding. And forcing the comely wench to watch him with the slave would be just the thing he needed to further break her spirit. A few more days of this and he’d have her in the palm of his hand.
Dream Captive Page 7
