What do we have here?
Just what sweet treasure have my man brought me this time?
What precious gem do I have tied to this chair by hand and foot?
Don't play the blackguard with me.
You know exactly who I am.
I be the captain of this ship.
Captain Morgan.
Henry A. Morgan.
You thought, you assumed, Captain Morgan was a man.
Oh, no.
That's all part of the fun.
Make them think I'm a man then.
When I've got them in the sights, throw them off guard with the reveal of me true self.
What they don't realize is that I am far more terrifying than any man who has sailed these seven seas.
My men tell me that they have information, information that will be very, very helpful to me.
The question is, how can I make you talk?
Is the threat of violence enough for you?
No, of course not.
Not for a big, strong, dark and evil like you.
Such a fine bit.
Such a taut muscle willing to cross your body.
Most men will sell out their own brothers with a little pain.
Is this chest as hard as it looks?
Will my blade even tear such rock hard muscle?
Will I be able to cleave you to the brisket?
Will your evil soul be let out by incision of steel?
How the blood blooms across your chest.
Does that hurt?
Or perhaps not enough?
But I love rum.
And not sea dog, wouldn't it?
Love it how it burns my throat as it slides down, silky and honey, warming me deep inside.
Do you love it how it burns your wound?
Do you love it how it burns your heart?
I must taste it.
Lick of blood and rum as it trickles down your chest.
So, bloody seas, it is good.
No, I love it how blood tastes, so much like steel.
How can a pirate not want to drink the blood of a man?
But it tastes just like the treasure we seek.
Now will you tell me what I want to do?
Nay.
Then perhaps a bigger blade will persuade you.
Must I cut you into small bite-sized pieces before you talk?
Perhaps the blade into your pulsating jugular while I pull the fist full of your hair will convince you?
Or maybe I'll just slit the veins on your arms and use your blood to warm me rum.
Nay, that can be the final resort.
There are other ways of making a man talk.
By knife, by cutlass, by his quivering little whore pipe.
Ah, what do we have down here?
A big sailor with a big cock.
Who would have thought?
Just how many wenches have been fucked by this thing?
How many women raped after pillaging?
And now I could threaten you with castration?
Or crush barricades?
Would you still be a man without your most prized tool?
I'm sure you will.
I simply refuse to reduce a person to a body part.
Yes, so much more than that, right?
Still, we are not there yet, I think.
How does the cold steel feel against your manhood?
Don't worry, it's not the sharp end.
I wouldn't want to accidentally slit and harm this beautiful manly cock.
Does the knife against your cock really make you roused?
It's growing so fast, so quick to engulf.
Oh, my God.
I can tell we're gonna have a riot.
Will you tell me the thing I want to know?
Or would you rather I stroke up and down your length with a blade scraping at the skin, the veins so close protruding?
If I turn the blade, then, nay, I won't harm such manly beauty.
Yet.
One last chance for you to talk.
I have all the time in the world.
I can wait.
I'll just take my chair, put it right in front of you, sit down comfortably with a bottle of my beloved rum, and wait, enjoying the view.
Why? Why?
Why? It doesn't have to be like that.
I do regret that we didn't meet under more fortunate circumstances.
It's so much better to be friends.
To share.
Would you not rather be my friend than my footrest?
Ooh, this is really comfortable, putting my feet up in your lap.
Doesn't this make you a little nervous?
These heels so close to your balls.
Not even a little bit. I must be doing it wrong.
What if I touch your cock with two? Oh my god.
This is amazing.
You're so hard that I can feel it through the suede.
It is pretty thin, of course, I'm thin, and I take my footwear very seriously. But still, highly amusing.
Do you like this?
First the knife, then the toe of my boot.
That's unusual.
But then I like suede very much myself.
Wouldn't go as far as rubbing it between my legs, though.
Judging by your reaction, it's definitely something that I should at least try.
Just look at you grinding your teeth while I'm stroking your leg like this.
Oh yes, look down. Watch closely.
And the way your gorgeous hair falls on your face when you do it.
You just cannot look away.
How can I?
I thought this would be a punishment for you.
Turned out it's a treat. I should take my foot away and stand up and proceed.
Or should I stroke some more?
Like that. Up and down. Up and down. Look at me.
Starting to enjoy this too.
This is not right. I was supposed to be torturing you.
Look down again. See those tiny white stains on my boots?
Tears of my victims.
Oh my god. A jest.
It's seawater.
Or is it?
Maybe if I suck your cock you'll turn.
Or maybe I'll suck your cock until you're about to explode and then I stop.
Then I'll suck you again, taking a dip in your mouth until you're about to blow and I stop.
And then I do it again and again, building your orgasm over and over, never letting you come.
Doesn't it not sound worse than pain?
You should feel honored. Most men cave at the pain.
They never make it to this more advanced level of torture.
So, how does the Captain look down on his knees between your legs?
A rare sight, to be sure. One you'll only ever see once.
First...
More rock.
So abusive.
Feel their throbbing. Your balls pushing up to the base.
You get to release their load.
I will not let come my salty little sea dog.
Not unless you tell me what I want to know.
You can stop this at any time.
You can stop me from slowly striking your cock as your orgasm dies down.
Keeping it hard with minimal stimulation.
Holding you on the edge, watching as the pre-camp leaks from the tip.
How does it feel when I squeeze my hand into a fist around your heart muscle?
Imagine trying to cum with the fingers wrapped so tight.
I'm ready for round two.
Why won't you tell me something anyway?
Maybe I'll even share.
In fact, we can collect the treasure together and celebrate.
Don't be so good.
Don't you think?
This could have been so different, you know?
Still not talking, huh?
And they don't look at me now.
Just look at the throb, so strong, so desperate to unload.
These balls are so tight, so ready to unleash their treasure right down the throat.
Like with fortune.
Do you give up yet, Céline?
Or should we move on to the next method of erotic torture?
One lick of your blood and run was enough to ignite fires below.
Must be me a Fridgiac.
The a Fridgiac of a true pirate.
Let's see just how long you can stand me tight.
Tight, wet, coming to rapt around your big strong corner.
Stand tall, sailor lad.
Show your appreciation for the captain's splendorous body.
Does it not look like the finest treasure of the seven seas?
Would you dive the deepest and most dangerous oceans for this body?
Or do you follow your captain into the depths of David Charles's loka
just for a glimpse, a touch of such salt bound to a treasure?
I'll just rub it up against you, up and down, pressing it into your stomach.
You may have the muscle of a seasoned pirate, but the belly speaks to years of bosom.
How many wenches has that hairy stomach pressed into as you roger their well-used depths?
How many times has it fit into the small of a horseback as you pull to her
and breathe your wild breath on her neck, such a scurvy animal?
Ah, let us begin this torture.
More rum for your cock.
Like when I was dreaming, I always thought that rum should burn,
but after many an experience on the high seas, I found that it's quite the opposite.
You know, when you drizzle a few drops down there and rub them in,
there's this delicate, pleasant, fragrant coolness.
Putting it inside, though, does absolutely nothing.
Or maybe it's just me, just soaked in rum over the years as it is.
Ready to twitch and spasm inside me.
Ready to release you loud.
All you have to do is talk, and this hell can end.
And you are not coming.
Come.
Tell me where it is.
Tell me.
Well, this cock will never come again.
Fine.
But it will continue to slide me so smooth,
I can't let your cock until, until never it seems,
perhaps until this ship grows old,
and the wind is worn away by the everlasting oceans,
and we both sink to the bottom,
me laughing the whole way and screaming in erratic agony.
No, no, no, no.
Again I try to come.
No matter how hard you grit your teeth and hold your mouth,
I can still feel it throbbing wildly inside me.
I will always stop before you come.
I promise you, I swear it upon the life of piracy and plunder,
you will never come.
If you tell me, I'll let you loot into my cunt,
I'll take you as deep as I can,
and squeeze all of your sweet seed drainage so much
that you won't be able to come for weeks.
If you tell me, you'll experience a pleasure so great
that no treasure found will bring you any joy.
Now fucking tell me.
Finally ready to talk,
finally going to allow this beautiful cock its web deserved release,
and then talk.
So wanted to hear me.
To hear me.
Wait.
What could I possibly have forgotten?
That's right.
You still have to come.
I suppose you do deserve it after all the torture.
How do you want it?
Want these careless hands to jerk it out?
Or do you want to come right down the back of my throat?
No, of course not.
You want to come deep inside me tight?
Come on.
I can feel you.
Gorge.
About to release the tort.
Loot inside me.
It's going to feel so, so
good.
Oops.
I slid off.
Look at it throb as it pumps out thick rubs of seed,
a splatter against the chair and floor.
Look at it.
Watch as everything you've built up is ruined,
spraying pathetically to the ground,
and even some on my boots.
Did you really think I'd let you come inside me?
After how long you made me wait.
After all the work I put in to make you talk.
I would not let a simple beetle trap
share something so intimate with me.
I am a captain.
Oh yeah.
You are just fine stuff for the gallows.
My.
This is a long log house.
How long had it been since your last pillage?
Too long.
Well.
Here's where our ways divide.
Sea Rover.
Here's luck and fair Wednesday.
