by Lora Thomas
“Don’t ya worry, Missies,” the captain spoke. “Billie’s a eunuch and he won’t be causin’ ya any real harm. I need ya’ll lookin’ pretty as a picture when I take ya ta Miss Annie and the others.”
Max gave a long lazy stretch as he settled in the lumpy bed he was sharing with the brunette. A sly smile formed on her lips as she snuggled closer to him. She placed her fingers on his smooth, sun-kissed chest and traced the muscular lines of his physique.
“Ya feelin’ up fer round two?” she purred as her hand traveled lower past his navel.
He grabbed her hand and pulled it above her head as he rolled over. He looked down at the busty wench, attempting to remember her name. “Ah, my dear,” he said as her name still eluded him. “We’ll have to wait until some other time. I need to meet the captain and have dallied too long in your bed as it is.”
The plump brunette prostitute thrust her thin lower lip out in a half pout. “Do you have to leave?”
Max stood up and walked to the chair beside the window. He did not reply to her question. Picking up his black trousers, he pulled them on his long muscular legs. She watched as the black pin-poked, tribal armband tattoo stretched taut over his right bicep. He turned his back to her and grabbed his crisp black linen shirt. She watched as the muscles rippled across his broad back as he pulled the garment on. Her eyes traveled to the long scar that extended from the middle right to the lower left portion of his back. There was a faint black “X” mark on the lower tip of the scar that sat just below the waistband of his pants. She propped up on her elbow and continued admiring her current customer. He was a magnificent looking specimen, even if he did scare the hell out of most people, herself included. His appearance was intimidating. He was very tall and muscular. Beverly didn’t think there was a muscle in this man’s body that was small. His hair was black as midnight and trimmed short, this time anyway. He turned to look at her, his sinfully black eyes revealing none of his thoughts. His strong square jaw line had the shadowy look of a beard making its appearance.
He continued dressing. Beverly watched as he finished lacing the front of his shirt. He sat on the red velvet chair where his clothing had been laying and pulled on his black leather boots. Standing, he pulled on his brown coat and began adjusting the weapons that he wore on the wide brown leather belt—his pistol, his cutlass, another pistol. He placed a knife in the sheath on his boot.
“What no cannon?” she asked coyly.
He gave her a half smile, causing the dimple on the left side of his cheek to appear. “No, that’s in my other coat,” he replied. He reached into his coat pocket and tossed a couple of gold coins towards her.
She caught both coins with the hand that had been holding the dull orange quilt up to her breasts. The quilt dropped to her waist allowing Max a full view of her overly large breasts. “Are ya sure you don’t want to stay?” she purred as she ran the cold gold coin’s edge over one of her exposed nipples making it stand erect.
“Yes. You satisfied my current needs, whore, and I have more pressing issues than lining your pockets even further.” With that being said, he walked out her door and shut it.
Beverly lay back down on her bed and pulled the quilt up over her body. She didn’t mind the insult. He was a magnificent lover. He was one of the few men who made her get excited and explode with ecstasy. She snuggled deeper down into her old lumpy bed. She needed to nap now. She had been up most of the night and had started to bed this morning when Max appeared at her door. He had kept her occupied most of the morning and she had to work again tonight. She sighed remembering the pleasure she received from his body as she drifted off to sleep.
Max crossed the busy street to the docks at Tortuga. He watched as merchants and pirates alike, bargained with the magistrate about docking fees. As he was walking down the dock, a short, stubby fat man bumped into him.
“Watch where ya goin’, ya as—” the disgusting man began.
“What did you say, boy?” Max interrupted, the irritation apparent in his deep voice.
“I said … ,” the man’s words trailed off as he turned to insult the man who attempted to intimidate him. The man’s eyes grew wide with terror as he realized who he had smarted-off to. “I … I … I said beggin’ yer pardon,” he nervously answered.
Max’s eyes narrowed as he glared at Jimmie. The man disgusted him. He considered himself a man, a good fighter, when everyone knew he was just a bully and a coward using the influence that his current captain gave him to take advantage of unsuspecting sailors. He had attempted to try it once, and only once, with Max, but when he approached, he ran away in fear. Max had a presence about him that said he was not to be trifled with, would not be bullied or intimidated. His every essence oozed of danger.
“I a-a-a-a-accidently bumped into you trying to get these girls in line,” the man stuttered in an attempt to keep himself from Max’s fury, as he pointed towards a line of a dozen or so women, tied together, being lead down the dock.
Max didn’t even look in the direction the fat man pointed. He leaned down to face Jimmie. “If you ever touch me again, even by accident, I will take great pleasure in gutting you. Understand?”
“Y-y-y-yes sir,” replied the cowardly man. “Won’t happen again, you have my word … it was just an accident. Some of the girls were—”
Max turned away dismissing the man before he could finish his explanation.
Jimmie let out a slow, relieved sigh as he turned to follow the train of bound women. If he had known The Abyss had been docked close to The Revenge he would have been more observant. He did not want to take a chance of upsetting The Abyss’s crew. Her captain was not a tolerant man of those who sold slaves, especially those who were forced into prostitution. Jimmie turned and watched as Max boarded The Abyss.
“Thank God he’s gone,” he said to himself as he caught up with Billie.
Max knocked once on the captain’s door and entered without being given permission. He proceeded to walk to the tall thin cabinet and pull out a bottle of rum. He turned and faced the captain who was engrossed in paperwork. Max took a seat in the dark leather chair across the table from the captain, slouched languidly, and put his booted feet in the chair opposite of him, crossing them at the ankles.
Alex looked up from his papers. “Do you mind? I just had those refinished,” he said as he gestured at Max’s feet resting in the chair.
The corner of Max’s mouth turned upward slightly. “Yeah, actually I do mind. This is a more comfortable way to sit when discussing whatever you have in mind.”
Alex just looked at his friend and shook his head. “I ought to have you whipped with the cat for such blatant disrespect of me.”
“I’d like to see you try, old friend,” Max replied as he placed the bottle of rum to his lips and took a long drink.
Max looked towards his friend and took in his appearance. Alex usually kept his blond-hair tied back with a thin brown leather strap, but today just the sides were loosely braided and pulled towards the back being held with a small tie. Max raised a questioning dark brow at his friend.
“What?” Alex questioned.
“You going for the Viking look?” he asked as he pointed to his friend’s hair.
“No,” Alex replied exasperatedly. “And you should talk. What happened to you? Last I saw you this morning your hair was longer than mine.”
Max looked at his friend nonchalantly and shrugged his shoulders. “Decided it was time for a new look.”
Alex rolled his eyes. “Lord help us! The world must be coming to an end! Thought you said you’d never have short hair again after you left the navy.”
Max just shrugged his shoulders again. “I got tired of it wrapping around my head. Besides, it grows fast. It will be long before you know it.” Max plopped his feet on the floor, rose up from his slouched position and leaned towards his friend. “Now what was so important that you had to disturb me from the company of Betty—Bertha—Anna—whatever her name?”
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“I thought her name was Angus—Lorene—Mary,” Alex countered.
Max shot Alex a look that said, “Get on with it before I punch you in the mouth.”
“Touchy this morning, aren’t you?”
“Alex,” Max warned.
“Alright, alright,” Alex replied as he held up his hands in a surrender pose. “As you know, one of my father’s ships was raided last week.”
“Yeah … and?”
“Well, this particular vessel had a present I had purchased my mother for her birthday. That present happened to be one of the articles stolen from the ship. I have discovered that the group that conducted the raid is residing about a day’s ride inland from here.”
“Okay?” Max questioned suspiciously. It was not unusual for them to track down individuals who stole from Emerald Shipping, Alex’s father’s business. In fact it had become a hobby of theirs. Pirates frequented these waters and took great delight in boarding merchant vessels and taking their cargo. So in order to better protect his inheritance, as well as his father’s lavish lifestyle, Alex had taken to pirating himself. He occasionally had to “plunder” his own father’s ships, just to keep the scent off who he really was … Nicholas Sinclair, the Governor’s son.
“Well, as you know, my mother loves the latest fashion. I had happened to acquire, during one of our last business acquisitions, a rather fashionable bonnet from France and I—”
Max held up his hand silencing Alex’s explanation. “Hold everything. You mean you are wanting me to tromp through that Godforsaken jungle,” Max protested as he pointed his figure towards the shore, “for a hat?!”
“Bonnet,” Alex corrected, “And no—”
“Good.”
“—I want you to watch Samuel.”
“What time are we leaving to go get this bloody hat?” Max replied abruptly before Alex had even gotten Samuel’s name out. Samuel was Alex’s twelve-year-old son, who had become part of the crew about six months ago after his mother was murdered by the noble Commodore Andrew McClain. Max liked Samuel well enough when he had to only deal with him when they docked at Port Royal. He would keep him busy loading and unloading cargo. But since coming aboard, Samuel had been nothing but trouble in Max’s eyes. Too rambunctious to suite Max, too mischievous, too … Alex. Max said that only one Alex was enough for him to take.
“Thought you’d see it my way. Glad that’s settled,” Alex replied agreeably. “I have already made arrangements. There are horses waiting for us at the livery. We leave within the hour.”
“Can’t believe were going into that damn jungle for a stupid hat,” Max mumbled as he left the quarters.
Chapter Four
Kristina had never been so mortified in her life! She had been forcefully stripped down—as in her clothing cut from her body—after which she was scrubbed until she changed colors and doused with lye, all the while with the two escorts watching. She attempted to cover her breasts with her hands, but the bonds made it impossible to cover both. A man poured a bucket of cold water over her head to rinse the lye from her flesh and a flimsy, musty smelling gown was forced over her body. She had attempted to give them a piece of her mind, but wound up with a moldy rag shoved into her mouth and tied.
The women were marched into another room of the building and held there for two days while they awaited the captain to arrange the perspective buyers. When he finally arrived, several appalling individuals accompanied him. Kristina instinctively knew who they were—the owners of the assorted taverns and brothels in Tortuga. A shiver went down her spine. She had to escape, but how?
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen,” Captain Hawkins replied as he looked at the group who had followed him. “Let’s start the bidding, shall we? We’ll being with that tall Jamaican.”
Kristina watched as Montie was dragged from her location and forced to stand on a small crate in the center of the room. Her clothing was removed so all could examine her tall, thin frame. Kristina watched in horror as one after another of the women in the room were forced to undergo the same embarrassment as Montie. Each lady was pulled forward, one at a time and examined like cattle. When she glanced around the room a startling realization came to her, she was the only one left!
Kristina was dragged towards the small crate. She was not going to stand up there without a fight. She kicked at the crate, sending it sprawling across the room. All that managed to get her was a smack to the face, making her fall to the ground. Billie grabbed her by her hair and forced her to stand. She refused to allow the thin dress she was wearing to be removed. She locked her arms down, but that did not stop him. Billie just cut her clothing away.
“Now this one will cost ya,” Hawkins began. “A virgin we acquired from one of our last stops.”
“How do ya know she’s of pure quality?” came the question from the overweight woman in the back of the room known to all as Miss Annie.
“I acquired this exotic beauty from a mission near Matanzas. She was being reared by nuns. Now tell me, where can you find a purer body than those of nuns?”
The answer the captain gave satisfied the woman. She nodded her head and her dyed black hair bobbed up and down. She puckered her overlarge lips as if she was kissing the air and replied, “Fair enough.”
All buyers approached Kristina. The clients poked and prodded. They pinched and squeezed. Kristina had every body part examined physically and visually. She was mortified!
Kristina could hear the bids, but did not pay attention to the amount. Her mind was racing. She must escape, she must! Before a plan could form in her mind “Sold!” echoed throughout the room.
“What?! No!” Kristina screamed as she was covered with a sack. She began bucking and kicking, but all that managed to get her was a hit on the head. The blackness came.
When Kristina awoke, she was sitting in a storeroom of sorts. There were crates and barrels of various sizes around her. She blinked several times as she attempted to focus on the objects in the room. She noticed shelves of different heights, all with multitudes of small bottles, what-knots, and packages. The pungent aroma of cheap perfume and liquor made her stomach turn. She attempted to cough to help ease her nausea, only to find that a moldy rag was lodged in her mouth… again.
“Ah, I see you’re awake now,” came a nasally voice from her right.
Kristina turned towards the voice. She held her head up proudly as she viewed the thin, short greasy-haired balding man before her.
He walked towards her and ran a finger down her cheek. The gag in her mouth prevented her from biting his bony finger. She jerked her head away from his cold slimy touch.
“I see yer a feisty one,” said the greasy-haired man. “I don’t think I’m goin’ put ya up fer sale jest yet. Think I’ll have a taste of ya first, keep ya ta ma self fer awhile, considerin’ the price I paid fer ya. Miss Annie wanted ya fer her place real bad, which drove yer price way up. But I outbid that old hag. Mr. Nubian will be awfully mad at me fer the price I paid fer ya, considerin’ it was his money. But once he sees ya, he’ll forgive me. He’d a been pissed knowin’ he’d missed out on that auction, but once he gets back from Harbour Island and I tell him that I went in his stead and show him you, he’ll be pleased.
“Once we’ve had our fill, I’ll toss yer leftovers ta those dogs out there,” he said as he motioned his head towards the direction of the door. “Now you jest sit right here and be a good girl. Ole’ Peter’s gotta run Mr. Nubian’s business. Can’t do that if I’m in here pokin’ you. I’ll be back after I close later tonight.”
Kristina watched the nasty little man leave the room and began to squirm. She was naked under the itchy wool blanket. Her hands were still bound in front of her, but at least her feet weren’t. She took a slow breath and looked around the room. There must be something in here to cut these bonds. She stood up and the blanket fell to the floor. As she looked down at her naked form she winced as pain shot through the right side of her head. She closed her eyes and took s
everal deep breaths willing the pain to subside. When it did, she tried to remove her gag only to realize that her arms had been bound to her sides. Damn. She walked over to one of the shelves and began looking. A glass broke and a woman squealed with laughter. She stood motionless for several seconds before she realized it was coming from the other side of the door and she began searching again.
She picked up a large thick glass bottle. This should work. She walked to the door and pressed her ear against it. The noise from the other side was getting louder. Kristina hoped the ruckus coming from the other side of the door would cover the noise when she broke the bottle. She walked over to the far corner of the room and dropped the bottle. The sound of the bottle breaking echoed throughout the room and seemed to be as loud as cannon fire to Kristina. She stood motionless, holding her breath, and breathed a sigh of relief when no one came in. Picking up a small shard of the glass she began cutting the rope.
She could feel the glass fragment cutting into her fingers, but her determination helped her tolerate the pain. The rope slowly began to fray. She winced as the sharp glass cut the fatty part of her left thumb, but she continued. She moved the glass shard back and forth faster until the rope broke. Once she had her hands free she worked on her restraints around her arms. When her arms were free, she yanked the gag out of her mouth and took a deep breath, before spitting in an attempt to remove the moldy taste of the gag from her tongue.
Turning, she tiptoed to the crates and rummaged through them. After several minutes, she found a pair of gray pants and a small shirt. “They’ll have to do,” she mumbled as she quickly dressed. She kept pilfering through the crates until she found an oversized coat, a pair of brown knee-high boots and a large brimmed hat.
