The Swashbuckling Yarn of Milady Vixen (9 page)

“I have nothing to say to ye.”

“I am curious, and you’ll be gracious enough to indulge this strange humor that grips me. Or shall I have yonder shipmate of yours flogged until dead?”

A chill ran through Vixen’s body.

“Ye blackheart, stow that talk! I will be so inclined to eat dinner with ye,” she answered.

“Splendid! I shall have a squad come and make sure you’re presentable.” Captain Cockrum smiled with a sneer.

With that, her cologne-scented captor turned on his heel and strode out of the brig. Vixen spotted no less than seven scarlet-coated soldiers standing guard outside the small chamber. She took this as a compliment to her infamous fame and stature.

“We are doomed, then.” Tom sighed.

“Aye, did ye expect less?” she replied.

“I wish for just one more night under the ocean’s stars with ye, Violet.”

“Like that evening in San Sainte Bridgette?”

“Aye! You were a wild thing that night.”

“It was from the pleasurable company and that fine cask of rum.”

Vixen laughed heartily at the memory of hours of drunken debauchery upon the forecastle, then the crow’s nest and finally in her bunk. The warm tropic winds through her hair, the smell of his skin and the taste of the rum upon Tom’s tongue.

Standing in a rattling din, she gazed upon his purple-splotched and swollen face. He was more handsome than ever; the marks of his abuse were like badges of courage gracing him.

“I wish for one more time,” she slurred amorously.

“We are parted by both chains and bars; how would this miracle take place?” he responded.

“Grip your cock and thrust it through the bars; I shall bare my arse and press you into me. I would have this last pleasure ere I go to yonder captain’s table.”

She pulled aside her knickers. Her bottom, a brown swell of ample hills, trembled when touching the cold metal. Vixen hooked her feet around the bottom of the steel imprisonments, then allowed herself to fall forward, her chains keeping her body bent yet unable to fall. She heard the clinking of Tom’s bindings and then the sudden, warm touch of the tip of his member.

“I can barely reach ye,” Tom grunted forcefully. “I fear I will not be able to delve so lustily into ye as we both desire.”

“Avast ye! Take me the best ye can!”

The soft intrusion was shallow, but delightful. Tom’s shaft only sank an inch into her quivering womanhood, but it brushed heavenly against the engorged and reddened bud atop her dewy cleft. Allowing for the violent rocking of the brig, she sobbed out each time at the frustrating shortness of the hot penetration into her quim.

Quim is a funny word, isn’t it?

The tantalizingly superficial pressure made Vixen wish her hands were unbound to stroke upon the trembling button and even to reach back to stroke his hard, thick girth.

“So soft!” Tom muttered. “I wish to bury myself to the hilt in you!”

“I know. I desire that above all else as well!” she groaned.

Each tiny jab, delicate rub and sorrowful removal made her shove back harder until the steel bars dented the brown swells of her buttocks. Aft and prow, fore and stern she was lightly pierced by Tom’s cock. The hunger betwixt her thighs was not sated, and she could sense her lover’s thwarted release as well. Vixen pulled away regretfully. Sinking to the dirty straw, she parted her legs with a moan.

“Why did you stop?” he queried. “W-what are you doing?”

Her manacles clanked and clinked as she parted her wet labia and began rubbing fiercely on her clit. Splaying her supple thighs apart, she gifted him with an unabashed view of her self-pleasuring. Her sex gleamed even in the faint light from the portholes. She began to play a tune upon herself.

“Touch yourself,” she hotly ordered. “If I cannot fully enjoy ye, I would watch ye fondle that which I cannot delight in.”

Wide eyed, Tom seemed mesmerized by her actions. Her fingers glided across her swollen bud, dipped into her moist treasure and out again. Caressing herself, she stared lustfully at the aching hardness jutting out of his breeches. Vixen’s nipples cut against her cotton blouse, increasing her enjoyment while her mind imagined it was Tom’s rough fingers brushing against them. Husky moans and soft cries began to stammer out between her quivering lips. Her lover sank to his knees and began stroking his raging erection.

“Ah! Ye are such a delight,” he rasped. “I never knew watching could be this interesting!”

“Tug on it, Tom,” she insisted. “Pull and caress that thick cock—the very sight of your shaft is driving me wild.”

Slopping sounds of her fingers’ delving made her frantically plunge two digits across her hooded bud and into her soggy depths. Her eyes fixated upon the rise and fall of his fist. The reddened shaft of his member and the pearl-like drop oozing from the purplish tip hypnotized her like no other sight before. Hot breaths whooshed out, and ragged intakes of air passed through her full, shuddering lips while she stroked, pinched and teased herself toward her climax. Tom’s shoulders shuddered and quaked, his own eyes locked upon her efforts.

“I cannot contain myself!” she wailed happily. “Look at my tender fold! The way my fingers course in and out of my poor neglected quim. Oh, Tom, it aches for ye! Imagine these fingers as your own. See how you stroke me so passionately!”

“Violet—oh, my Violet,” he husked out. “End the torment betwixt ye thighs and hasten to your climax. I yearn to suck at those dewy fingers—aye, the taste of it would be like the very nectar of Heaven which the angels do sip at!”

His words, hotly spoken, loosened the reins of her delight, giving the horses of her desire their head. Onward she rushed toward her climax. Furiously she rubbed and plunged her digits in a maniacal and driven manner. Splaying her labia, swirling her fingers within and stuffing them inside, she pushed herself to the very edge of her ability to contain herself.

It came, she came with a body-shaking convulsion that tossed straw toward her lover from her kicking feet. The powerful ending erupted through the pirate’s lush body, her screams of hot pleasure echoing above all else. Vixen’s legs flapped open and shut, her heavy breasts wobbled liquid-like inside the snug confines of her blouse while she wailed her enjoyment for all to hear. Deeply stuffing the twin fingers into her cleft, she held them there, gripped by the tender, moist muscles within. Her mind grew dazed, and the images before her eyes softened to a surreal quality. Eventually her constant convulsions were reduced to quick, random spastic jerks.

Tom’s shout brought her out of her warm and dreamy revelry. Her eyes, glazed as they were, found the shuffling palm gliding across the tall, proud member in his fist. The harsh sounds of his bindings, his ragged breath and the twitching of his member were erotic sights and sounds for her senses only. His hips bucked to and fro, his face twisting up into a familiar and sensual mask of pleasure. The rubbing noises as flesh ran across flesh slithered decadently to her ears. Faster and faster went his hand. His cock’s purple head disappeared and re-emerged past his clenched fingers. The shade of his cock deepened to an ever-darker crimson. Soon his fist was a blur.

His single shout announced the arrival of his carnal ship pulling into port. The long, arching jet of his seed flew past the bars separating them to land upon the straw just a yard’s length away from her feet. Each flexing and spewing of him fell shorter and shorter until he was done. Vixen’s mouth went dry when she saw him forced to wipe a wet set of knuckles on his breeches. His chest rose and fell in hitching breaths. The tears in his eyes, due to his frustration, echoed her own.

“I love ye,” she whimpered. “I wish this was not the end, but alas, we cannot deny our fate.”

“I will take this memory happily to my grave,” he admitted. “I have never before witnessed a woman pleasing herself; I am astounded by the vision you have given me.”

“As am I—your firm fist rising upon your cock did drive me quicker to my destination.”

“You are a lusty creature.”

“As are ye.”

“I am weary—a nice nap seems in order.”

“You have just awakened!”

“Aye, but yon orgasm has robbed me of any energy. Stretch out your hand; I would slumber at least holding it, if I cannot lie against ye.”

“Slumber if you will; I will indeed and willingly grip ye.”

Sliding across the straw, she took a grip on the offered palm and sank against the bars. Dreamless sleep easily overtook her and eventually him.

Shocked, are you? Tell me truthfully you have never indulged yourself in your partner’s self-pleasuring? My, but you have miles to travel in life. Try it sometime and you will be amazed at just the vision of your lover touching, caressing and enjoying him—or her—self. The frustration and excitement is quite stimulating. A man or woman unwilling to please himself cannot hope to drive another to ecstasy, don’t you think? One must be able to do so in order to become the best lover he can.

Why do you stare so? Heavens, you can’t be serious? Now don’t give me that look—I’m an old man! Your unspoken query makes even this elderly storyteller blush! Dear me, I pray you contain your naughty thoughts, or I will be forced to bring this yarn to an abrupt halt. How inappropriate—and yet interesting.

A Captain’s Fancy for

a Privateer’s Private Life

The door swung open with a resounding bang, awakening both pirates with a sudden start. Into the brig walked fourteen armed Marines, their weapons held at the ready.

“Get up you, scurvy harlot!” one of them snarled. “The cap’n wishes you to dine with him. Try no funny business, or I’ll personally see to it you’re tied to the main mast to be flogged.”

“Brave words from a man surrounded by his fellows,” she said with a yawn. “Give me a blade and room to dance, and I’d spill your guts onto the deck.”

One member of his company rushed forward and unlocked her cage; three more strode into it and began dragging her out by the length of chain dangling between her cuffs.

“Follow us,” the officer commanded.

Surrounded by armed Marines, Vixen did what they asked, since she knew there was no hope of bringing them all down to free both her and Tom. A scheme rapidly formed in her mind, however, and she fought not to allow herself a gloating smile.

I’m sure I know why this peacock wants me for dinner, but his advances will be thwarted. I will take him hostage and perhaps I can parlay his life for mine, Tom’s and a small skiff, she plotted to herself.

They made it out onto the deck. Sunshine cut into her eyes, and she was forced to raise her hands to shield them. Instead of marching her from the bow to the poop deck, the soldiers brought her to an impromptu halt at the waist. Her escort formed a ring around, their bayoneted muskets pointed at her. A red-striped-shirted sailor appeared carrying a rope, and the officer nodded in his direction.

“Captain told me to make sure you were made presentable,” the lieutenant sneered, “but he forgot to give me the details. So if you don’t mind, I think a bath is in order. I wouldn’t want my commanding officer to have his senses befouled by a filthy pirate; not that a clean pirate is any better. I am not at liberty to wonder why Captain Cockrum fancies a chat with you. Mister Leeway, tie off this sack of garbage, will you? Mind you don’t make any sudden moves, since my men would adore any excuse to revenge their fallen comrades by shooting you dead where you stand. Do we have an understanding?”

“Aye, you pettiest of officers,” she insulted him.

The barefooted seaman tied the length of hemp around her middle and knotted it tight. Stepping back, he grinned at his handiwork. Another sailor undid the bindings on her ankles and stepped away quickly out of fearful respect.

“Take off your boots,” the Marine ordered.

She sat upon the boards and did so despite the hindrance of her manacles. Their intentions were too clear to her, and Vixen knew she’d just have to play along until it was time to wreak bloody havoc on them for this atrocity. Leading her to the gap where the spar deck would allow the gangplank to be thrust out to adjoin either a dock or another ship, the maritime soldiers gleefully chatted and joked.

“I suppose ye bastards are going to…,” she began, interrupted by a musket stroke to the middle of the back.

The two-story fall ended abruptly with a splash. The hemp around Vixen’s middle yanked violently, and the ship’s momentum quickly dragged her along the ship’s side. Fighting upwards, she kicked her feet and rose to the surface, but the spray filled her mouth and nose with salt water. Gasping, coughing and choking, she tried to turn her head to take in quick gulps of air. The rope snapped taut, and her tormenters hauled her upwards until her feet came out of the water, but as unexpectedly as she’d risen they dunked her back into the briny deep. Vixen’s head slammed against the hull of the ship, and stars danced in her eyes. The jeering sounds of the crew’s cheering at her predicament sounded muted and warbled from her underwater position.

Three more times they lifted her above the churning waves only to dash her back into the sea. Her arms and shoulders grew sore, her hands, softened by the water, tore and bled, and her strength was fading fast. When at last they hauled her out of the water, she dangled like a dead man at the end of the rope line. The men tugged her rudely onto the deck and dumped a bucket of water to bring her fully to her senses. Sputtering and coughing, she rolled weakly onto her back. A circle of smirking, hateful faces framed her view of the sky.