1 comments/ 34767 views/ 4 favorites Misty Dawn & The Raven Ch. 1 By: Swashbuckler Dawn's red curls stirred gently in the salt laden breeze as her misty gray-green eyes stared absently off to the horizon. The fading light blue of the sky rested gently on the deep azure of the sea, ruffled here and there by light crests of foam on the waves. "There is beauty here," she thought to herself as she stared absently, longing for the emerald greens of her homeland as she was rocked gently against the gunnels of the ship that was carrying her to a new life in a new world. Young and beautiful, though without the chance for a proper marriage she had placed herself in the service of an English woman and followed her across the sea for the mystical land of Jamaica. It all felt like a dream; these long days at sea, and to think that she herself was to see the new world of sugar plantations was overwhelming, nearly as thoroughly overwhelming as the oppressive heat. Her mistress was quite disagreeable. Lady Catherine was ill from the sea, and not being the most pleasant woman most times, was brutally harsh of late. Dawn tried savoring this brief moment of solitude while her mistress slept, but something was missing to make it anything but boring. As she stared the endless fields of blue before her, absently she caught a dark shadow far to the west. Raising a small hand to strain her eyes into the sun, she was hoping that it was land at long last. Before Dawn could determine what it was actually that she was seeing, a shrill shriek, "Dawn! Where are you, you useless Irish wench?!?" snapped her head around as she scurried across the soft rolling deck to her mistress' cabin. * * * * * The round blackness of the spyglass tunnel surrounded the rolling sails of the next prize of The Raven, and her master, Captain Charles Northup. Charles lowered his spyglass slowly, about to snap it shut and give the order; but his gleaming blue eye caught something that gave him pause. He refocused the glass upon the small form with billowing fiery hair that was scurrying along the deck. Even with this crude devise and the expanse of sea between them, he could tell she was a jewel to be plucked. A half grin cocked, and curled his lip as he snapped the glass shut with lightening speed. Turning is head slightly over the broad belt slung with the weight of his cutlass upon his left shoulder, "Pipe up the crew!" Charles snapped to Fazul, his huge Moorish first mate. The dark skinned dome of Fazul's bald and tattooed head bowed to his chest as he put the small whistle to his lips. The windswept deck of the Raven was electrified with the shrill, piercing shriek of Fazul's whistle. Suddenly the deck was filled as armed men scurried about, unfurling sails and readying guns. Charles stood near the wheel, his piercing blue eyes locked upon the meandering ship as they closed. It was silhouetted against the sinking sun. He watched with an evil grin as too late the large vessel tried to gain speed by putting out all sheets. Perhaps his work would be more difficult if merchants ever began staffing their tubs with enough crew, or bothering to feed those who worked their ropes. "Bring us along her, Mr. Starkly," Charles calmly commanded his wheelman who was already half way to the order when it was given. As they drew closer still Charles barked loudly to his men waiting patiently for the order, "Hoist our colors, boys! Give 'er a salute!" As the flag made of sack cloth shot skyward, the wind unfurling its altar boys robe tatters of a skull with a pair of crossed cutlasses behind its ginning visage, Charles jerked his blade from its baldric and the first retort of his gun fired threateningly across the lumbering ship's bow. * * * * * Dawn wrung the cool rag out once again and was just laying it across Lady Catherine's pallor forehead when both her and her mistress took in quick breaths from the sound of cannon and the near by splash of the ball. "Pirates!" Lady Catherine shrieked as she shot bolt upright in the bed. Dawn's heart leapt as the sounds of hurried feet thundered about on the decks and the captain's usually stern voice boomed with the tinge of fright. In all her years Dawn had never considered how dangerous this peaceful voyage actually was. The flood of reality chilled her to the bone. Lady Catherine was in a terrible state, half sobbing, and half shrieking hysterically, but all together inconsolable as a child beset with nightmares. Dawn stood quickly, overturning the basin of water on the small table and soaking her bodice. This she ignored as she raced to the door and slammed home the iron bolt. Turning around to face her mistress who took one look at her and said, rather inappropriately for the circumstances, "Dawn you stupid Irish trollop, look what you've done! Spilled my basin and soaked yourself!" Dawn was in such a rush, she hardly noticed the words as she raced to the bookcase and pulled Lord Dudley's box of dueling pistols from the top shelf. "What in heavens name are you doing, you stupid cow," Lady Catherine shrieked shrilly through her nose as Dawn opened the box and pulled one of the gleaming silver inlaid guns from its blue velvet bed. "Damn the English," Dawn thought to herself as she pulled out the powder flask and set to work as best she could with the pistol, too busy to speak, and fearful to let hold of her fiery tongue under these circumstances. A simple, "Yes, mum," was all Dawn could muster as she set to work putting the shrieking woman's tone out of her mind as the sounds of many guns boomed through the air. The ship pitched violently and they heard the sounds of shattering timbers and the screams of men. Lady Catherine gripped Dawn's forearm as one would hold on to the precipice overlooking Hades. The older woman's breath was haggard and forced. Dawn was cursing herself for not tightening the damn woman's corset tighter, lest she may have already fainted. Her right arm held by the terrified aristocrat, Dawn rammed the ball home with the rod in her teeth and the pistol in her left hand. Spitting the rod out of her lips, she cocked the hammer and stood, trying to calm her mistress. A task that was made all the worse when the ship lurched on the water once more and the sounds of ringing steel and a hundred shouts of men echoed beyond the cabin door. * * * * * The two vessels lurched on the waves. The air began to fill with cloud of acrid smoke from cannon, not unlike the aphrodisiac incense from the East Indies. The stronger, more agile vessel closed the small gap of sea, its trained guns raking the sails with shot, bringing down the sheets of its prey like it was stripping the rags off a harlot in the street. The hapless ship tried to flee, with unsure steps, and seemed to stumble on the waves. As the mightier ship drew along side, ropes flew out to snare its victim and pull her tight along side. Men on the deck of the captured ship leapt like many frenzied limbs to beat back a throng of armed invaders pressing entry. There was a clash of steel, like a woman's shriek in the night, as the larger force of men crossed the gunnels. The surge of men from the powerful ship was not unlike the first thrust of a phallus into an closed blossom, at first there was clenched resistance, but pure size and force drove the pirates over to flood the deck, as the inevitable became realized all too soon. Charles swung on a rope to his victims deck, a blow from his foot sent one man sprawling to the waves, and a slice from his cutlass cleared his landing with another man's blood. His blood was up. His ears were ringing from cannon and the heady rush of blood pounding in his chest. He absently pressed his attack towards the stately cabins, where he had seen his jewel disappear. By the time he reached the crest carved door, all resistance had subsided. Victory was once again, his. With a roguish grin, he pushed a curly lock of sweat soaked blonde hair from his face and planted a black leather boot sole upon the cabin's door. The door flew inward, its bolt having burst and there before Charles was his fire haired jewel, with her was a green-faced woman gripping one arm and a pistol wavering in her other hand. "The initiative is yours, ma'am," Charles boldly smiled as he took a step toward them, his cutlass lowered and his left hand pulling the open laced flap of his tunic, baring more of his chest to the pistol. The air was split with the sound of pistol shot. The cabin filled briefly with black smoke. Charles' eyes flashed to the hole just to his right in the door jam as he grinned, "Damn the luck." With that, Lady Catherine let out a small gasp and finally fainted dead away. A crowd of Charles' men flew to the doorway behind him. "Milady," Charles began, "you should have shot her first, aye?" He laughed as he brought the point of his cutlass up to Dawn's water soaked bodice. "Seize them and search the ship, ya' dogs!" Charles barked as his wolves flooded the room and four of them carried the spitting and kicking Irish maid from her mistress' chamber. Dawn struggled valiantly, but vainly, she landed one good kick to a smelly sailor's groin before her legs were both seized by groping hands that hoisted her high into the air. Screaming curses and writhing like a trapped viper, she was carried from the room. Lady Catherine was drug by the shoulders quickly behind her and her four captors. Dawn cursed herself for not spitting into that smug man's face as she was ushered out of the door. The setting sun blinded her eyes as she was tossed like so much baggage across the gunnels of the grotesquely locked ships. Dawn felt the hot rays of the sun fall upon her milky pale claves as her skirts billowed a bit in the wind. The rush of air followed quickly by the grip of many calloused hands upon her legs flushed her cheeks in a flood of hot fear towards her looming fate. Her head spun violently as her wrists were quickly bound behind her back and she was shoved rather harshly down into the hold of the vile ship. Before she realized what was happening she was tossed into a small room in the hold, landing hard upon the rough timbers. A shrill shriek preceded the heavy landing of her recent mistress upon her back. "Stupid cow!" Lady Catherine whined into Dawn's ear shrilly, as if it were all her fault. Then all light disappeared as a heavy door slammed behind them, the rusting clink of iron assured her that the door was secured. Dawn tried desperately to control herself and force her anger to give her strength as she lied to her sobbing mistress, "Its going to be alright, milady, its going to be alright..." * * * * * Charles smiled to himself as he watched the disabled ship drift away from the Raven. "Right at the waterline, steady... FIRE!" he barked. Instantly the flames leapt from the mouths of his guns and the latest victim of the Raven pitched roughly on the waves as its hull was blown into splinters. The tub gallantly floundered for a moment, then began listing heavily, before spiraling itself to its doom. Charles turned to walk away. "Sultan," Fazul began slowly as Charles took his first couple of steps towards his cabin. Charles stopped, mid stride but did not turn around, responding to Fazul's unique title for his master and friend. The hulking eunuch had more than a few alien oddities. His addressing his captain as Sultan was just one. "Yes, Fazul?" Charles breathed. "Forgive me," Fazul said stepping in behind his master, "but the young maid, why? There was so little booty; her presence may be a cause of contention. The older whining one of course can be ransomed, but the maid why, even after she tried to kill you, Sultan." Charles laughed as he turned slowly and clapped the large man on the shoulder. "Fazul, my old friend," Charles grinned, "The maid is my share as Captain, the little booty of that prize can be split amongst the crew. As can any ransom, should any of you think you could stomach her whining." Charles patted the big Moor's shoulder, "I got my jewel, and the rest is yours to divide. Meanwhile, lay us a course for home." As Charles turned and started again, "Should I fetch the wench?" Fazul called after Charles. Charles' long curling locks of gold shimmered in the twilight shook and one arm rose calmly shaking as he headed for his door, "Not yet, Fazul," Charles called over his shoulder. "Let the tigress stir a bit longer in the hold, let her know she is but stored booty." Charles turned as he opened his cabin's door, and turned back to look Fazul in the eye from across the deck, "I shall call for my share soon enough, my friend, soon enough..." Charles' voice trailed off as he shut the door behind him. Entering his cabin, Charles lit the lantern and released it to swing with the roll of the waves casting shadows about his cabin as he filled himself a flagon of the his best rum. Its sweet potency warmed his parched lips as he swallowed a hefty pull. Charles lifted his sword belt from his shoulder and hung it loosely on the back of the carved and velvety chair of his desk. He leaned with one arm cocked at the elbow against the window frame of his cabin and stared into the inkiness of sky and sea trailing behind the raven. His mind setting sail back to that bold firebrand that now languished in his hold. A half smile curled his lip, as he tasted his rum once more. Already anxious for the chance to count her treasures for himself, "Today was a good haul," he said softly to the waves, "a very sweet haul." Misty Dawn & The Raven Ch. 10 Dawn forced herself to turn away from the door to Charles' cabin. Part of her wanted to eaves drop upon the heated exchange between Olivia and Charles, she was sure would erupt immediately. Knowing Charles' wrath she turned away, confident that she would see the end result shortly. Confident too, that Charles would have the woman put into her place, guest, or no! The deck was full of activity as the Raven was changing course, Fazul was at the forecastle, a glass raised to his eye, fixed upon something on the horizon. Dawn quietly stepped up the stairs and padded up behind the massive man. "Sultan's Girl," Fazul said warmly without turning around, "I see they have business, and have pressed you out, nay?" "Aye, Fazul, they have indeed," Dawn said as she strained her eyes at the distant dark shape on the horizon. It would appear to be a ship, but from here, she could only guess. "What is that, Fazul? Are we about to attack another ship?" Dawn inquired. Fazul was the only one she dared speak so frankly to. The rest of Charles' thieves almost seemed to envy her, and Charles' personality did not lend well to answering her inquiries. A meaty hand slowly passed her the glass, "That is a ship Sultan's Girl, wounded it is too; but as to whether we attack it or not remains to be seen." Dawn gently accepted the glass glancing up at the giant's profile as she did. His answer only left her more questions, but she felt that his answer was complete as he could make it, never the less. Dawn clumsily lifted the glass to a gray-green eye. Distant waves became huge and detailed in an instant. Then the sky flashed to her brain from the round perception, surrounded by darkness that was her eye. Her head began to swim with her new sight. Suddenly a great powerful arm steadied her shoulders, catching her before she fell in her disoriented state. "Here, Sultan's Girl," Fazul said with a bemused smile, spread your legs, keep the deck under you." Dawn felt a giant hand pushing outward on her inner thigh; she inhaled with a bit of surprise. The touch of the eunuch had caught her completely off-guard. She was always wary of the hands and eyes of Charles' men. Though none had dared touch her, she felt the heat of lust from their long stares at every turn. She giggled to herself as he withdrew his hand. His touch had electrified her soul, and yet that was the only the caress of a friendly teacher. Dawn felt her cheeks gather a subtle glow, "Thank you, Fazul," she said with a smile. Fazul gave her a nod of his massive head in response before helping her lift the glass to her eye. He took her tiny hands in his and maneuvered them to appropriate spots on the shaft of the glass. Then slowly he led her towards the ship on the horizon. Dawn focused slowly, Fazul's hands left hers, and she stood there, her stance that of a seasoned seaman. The slow movement under Fazul's guidance had kept her head for swimming, her feet spread even with her shoulders kept her balance above the waves. As her gray-green eye scanned a disheveled deck. Rigging was swinging loose in spots, as if they were but massive clothes lines snapped in a sudden blow. A couple of the sails looked limp, and were torn in pieces. Beneath their frustrated flapping on the wind, she found two men in a circle of many. One had a cutlass raised high; he was shouting something beneath his thin mustache. The man to his left was shorter and stouter, with a ruddy complexion; he kept glancing anxiously at the loud man with the cutlass. The rest of the crew seemed to be whispering amongst themselves, awkwardly. Almost like what she had heard the court of parliament would look like, with the exception of setting and dress. She wondered what the thin mustached man was shouting about as she lowered the glass and offered it back to Fazul. "Why, aren't they repairing their ship, Fazul?" She asked naively. "Sultan's Girl," Fazul said flatly, as he accepted the glass, "it would seem they are deciding upon a new captain." Dawn tossed her head, ridding her lashes of a wind tossed strand of crimson curl that had fluttered across a gray-green eye as she soaked in Fazul's dispensed knowledge. "The Witch," Fazul said as he raised the glass back to his eye, "it would seem, believes it has lost its mistress, and is choosing a new master. Allah, forbid that it fall to Pierre Duvall." Fazul shook his head and lowered the glass, snapping it to. Dawn's mind ran the name, Pierre Duvall, over in it. She imagined that it belonged to the thin mustached man, but did not ask Fazul to confirm her guess. Charles' heavy footfalls on the forecastle steps as he leapt up them compelled both Dawn and Fazul to turn to face his approach. "Sultan," Fazul began as he stepped towards them, "I think that Cap..." Charles cut him off short, "Change course, immediately, and make for Port Royale with all speed, Fazul." Charles cast an informed eye to the skies and snorted at the lack of wind he desired. Dawn caught a twinge of surprise in Fazul's eye as he hesitated a mere heartbeat before bowing. He stepped past Charles and gave the command to change course and put out all the linen. Dawn watched Charles closely. His face was a brew of lust and calculation. She had a feeling she had some part to play in whatever was bubbling behind those cold blue eyes. She lowered her gaze before he noticed her. Fazul returned and broke Charles hold on the skies with his voice, "Sultan, the order is given," the Raven had already began to spin on the waves as the hands worked to bring Charles' will into reality. Charles nodded once in acknowledgement of the report. "Sultan, there is something I think you should hear in regards to the Witch." Charles wheeled around and clapped both hands on both of Fazul's shoulders, "Yes, yes, Fazul," Charles grinned merrily, "I know all about it." Fazul fell silent and bowed. Charles smiled a wicked smile into Fazul's eyes before he clapped his friend on the shoulders again as he started again. "Fazul, take Misty Dawn, and round up the insolent one, I will have need of both of them later. Secure them both until I call for them. Stand the crew down as soon as we are set. Get the fire's stoked, the lads may need a hearty supper. I'll be needing all hands later. Olivia and I do not wish to be disturbed." His string of commands complete Charles set back off across the Raven's deck. The Machiavellian look of thought returning in a flood to his face as he vanished from the forecastle quickly as he came. Fazul wiped the beaded sweat from his tattooed dome with a beefy palm and shook his head. As you wish, Sultan," he said to the empty air of the forecastle as Charles disappeared across the deck. He slowly turned to Dawn, bowing slightly he held out a large hand, "You must accompany me, Sultan's Girl," he said as warmly as he could. "Of course, Fazul," Dawn said quickly. She was consumed with curiosity over the Charles' visage. What devil had possessed his mind this day, she knew not. Fazul's hand closed over hers and she followed in his large footsteps as he lead her off the deck. Descending the steep stairs into the bowels of the ship towards the crew's bunks they herd the muffled, nasal voice of Catherine moaning in time to an unknown grunting and creaking. Dawn felt a tingle shooting through her as they approached the door. Catherine's strangled moans were fueling the fire lit by Fazul's hand, fanned by Charles' face, and stoked by her own curiosity. She could feel the fiery dew welling within her as Fazul reached for the door. Dawn peered around Fazul's girth as the door opened, revealing Catherine swinging prone across a hammock. Her wrists were bound behind her back and she had a dirty bit of rag tied tight between her lips. A sailor, sunk deep within her cove, was propelling her forward with crushing thrusts. Every blow sending Catherine swinging out to the tip of his cock, the ropes of the hammock would bring her crashing back to full impalement in a smooth glide. Catherine felt the tight mesh of the hammock biting her breasts at every motion of the hammock, her nipples cutting through the stagnant air of the cramped room from where they poked through the webbing of the swing. She moaned and grunted at every thrust, and every return. Her quim fevered, all but begged for the next filling swoop, and propelling thrust. She bit hard on the gag between her teeth, and clenched her gates hard upon the rigid shaft as she consumed it, more from her own need than the mechanics of her condition. Gaspard slammed true as the door opened, the cinching of Catherine's sweet pussy and the shock of being disturbed, caused his cock to twitch violently. His last thrust was so strong that Catherine screamed into he rag as she was sent over the edge of desire, propelled off the end of Gaspard's cock. She felt the sticky heat landing in tiny scattered puddles on the crests of her ass, searing her flesh as they landed with lust, causing a secondary eruption deep within her depths. She gasped and panted in hard, strangled breaths into the gag. Fazul rolled his large eyes and muttered something in his melodious language as he ducked through the low doorway. "Gaspard," Fazul said in a commanding tone as Catherine swung back to rest against Gaspard's folding spike, "Captain's orders, this one is to come with me until further notice." Catherine lifted her half closed eyes in the direction of the large man's voice, still panting hotly against the gag as her body trembled in post explosion bliss. Dawn's gray-green eyes sparkled as she peered into the small room. The site of Catherine suspended so was overwhelming. Suddenly she longed for Charles to cash in his large canopied bed for a common sailors fishing net hammock, a chill of heat ran up her spine as she looked on. "Aye," Gaspard gasped slowly. He slapped Catherine's ass hard as he backed away, "I be'in' havin' me fill o' 'er, Fazul." Fazul caught out of the corner of his eye Catherine lift her rosy imprinted cheek in tiny pursuit of Gaspard's calloused, greasy hand. To this he lifted an eyebrow, even as she whimpered nasally into the gag. He walked boldly into the room and lifted her down from the hammock. Her legs were unsteady and he had to support her, a treelike limb through one of her still bound arms as he led her out of the room. With both women in tow, he led them deeper into the Raven's bowels. ***** Time passed with anxious, brutal slowness. Neither Dawn nor Catherine spoke to one another, the lapping of the sea on the curved wall of the hold rhythmically hypnotized them both. Catherine was so exhausted from her recent usages that she was lulled asleep, her head leaning heavily onto Dawn's shoulder. Dawn smiled unseen in the darkness as the warmth of Catherine's hair upon her bare shoulder. She leaned her crimson locks into Catherine's head and closed her gray-green eyes. The door was pulled wide with a rousing creak. After waiting for sleep for what seemed like hours, Dawn and Catherine both felt as if they had barely closed their eyes when the blinding glow of a lantern shone in on them. "The Cap'n be callin' for ye lot," Robbins slurred as he pushed into the cell. He roughly yanked Catherine by the hair out the door and Dawn shuffled quickly to follow, squinting as she adjusted the light, she followed the repugnant Robbins drunkenly bobbing lantern and Catherine's stifled cries at his treatment of her hair. The rough-hewn stair flew beneath her bare feet as she padded quickly after the escaping Robbins. He seemed in a completely foul mood, inspired by an exceptional amount of rum that he had spent the entire day consuming. Dawn was trying to keep pace as they broke topside. Dawn was amazed; the entire crew seemed to be gathered. A chill ran through her body as her back reminded her of the last night the crew had been gathered. "What the hell has that fool-woman done now?" Dawn hissed under her breath, thankful for Catherine's repeated squawks to cover her own dismay. Robbins led Catherine by the hair to the center of the ship, Dawn stepped up behind them both, glancing around cautiously for Charles; but there was no sign. The crew began to form a broad circle and passing tobacco for smoldering pipes amongst themselves around Dawn and Catherine. Robbins scoffed as he pulled Catherine to her knees by the hair, "Ye lot wait 'ere," he ordered, his voice ringing both self-satisfied command and the stench of drink. Dawn knelt beside Catherine; in the fashion, that Olivia had shown her to do, hoping that it might appease some of Charles' wrath when he chose to appear. A rustle of encouragement rose with a murmur from the crew of the Raven as she assumed the position. Catherine was more haphazard, in her kneeling, her still present gag, and bonds adding to her untutored dishevelment. Robbins had left her face covered with her brown hair. She did nothing to dislodge it, as if trying to use her hair as a mask or a shield from what awaited her. Dawn watched as Fazul parted the crowd for a pair of pirates who carried a long low table which they plunked down unceremoniously before her and Catherine. Catherine seemed to shudder at the thump it made on the stout deck of the Raven. Dawn's eyes flashed in the starlight, her mind was running like a pack of wolves on the hunt, slowly her mind's racing was churning the forge between her widened thighs as her curiosity burned through her core. She breathed to Catherine's ear, "What does he have in mind this night?" She did not expect an answer, but she had to voice in a whisper what was a roaring chorus in her head. The crowd parted again and Charles pushed his way through, a rolled parchment in one hand. His blue eyes slowly scanned over Catherine and Dawn. She bit the inside of her bottom lips as he tilted his head in appreciation at her posture. She beamed deep inside at his unspoken approval. Her nether lips began to redden and glisten in the starlight despite herself. Charles leapt upon the table and hoisted the parchment over his head, "Me, mates," he shouted quieting the crowd. As his gang of cutthroats lent their ears and silence to their captain Charles continued, "Gentlemen, ye all know well enough, that we are carrying the captain of the Witch aboard with us. However, the mistress of that good ship has seemed to have fallen upon more ill-luck than a mere swim in a storm." Charles let his words filter through the rum for a moment before continuing. "It would seem that mistress Olivia has a business proposition for us, me hardies. She requires our aid in her time of need." A murmur of doubt ran through the crowd, they knew the moment the Raven changed course from the Witch, that Olivia had lost her ship. The prospect of attacking a well-manned and gunned ship for a woman with nothing to gain for themselves was in fact folly. "Why not attack and seize a fort o' killer bees?" A rum sodden voice called back from the crowd. "Well, master Robbins," Charles retorted, slowly uncoiling the parchment, "we have a bargain. Signed by her hand, mind. Captain Olivia is going to show you cowardly lubbers what it takes to be a captain. She has agreed to take you all, this very night. Not only that, but for every time you lot can creak her timbers, she will take one lash, and pay ten pieces of eight to you, whence we hand her back her ship." Charles coolly regarded the parchment as his crew became as restless as whirlpool. He knew as they did that she had a vast fist and, would have to dig into it deeply if they could live up to her challenge. Charles knew that every man on this deck had been charting her pleasures ever since she emerged from his cabin. He shouted over the roar of wave and raised voices, "Also, m'lads, I get no share of that gold. We have a special arrangement between captains for my prize." The non-mathematically inclined brains of his men could even comprehend the profits to be had in having Olivia with the last announcement. A cheer rose from the darkness of the sea. Charles' eyes twinkled like the devil's in the starlight, as his men shouted amongst themselves. He turned and looked deep into Catherine's eyes. "Now, m'pet is where you pair come into the bargain. For it to be worth my while, I have wagered your flesh against hers. Whilst my men plunder her for all they're worth, she will be digging your gold," He pointed a finger at Catherine's nose. "If you my lass, come before she, with a randy sailor in her quim, you receive a lash. If you hold out until she has spent she takes the blow." Catherine's pussy throbbed and sweated pure adrenaline, she almost came right there at his words. He was risking her control for his share. She was astonished and overwhelmed. Her confidence was quaking, as she knew she could not repress her own lusts forever. Charles whipped some of the hair from Catherine's face, "You, my pretty, had better do well!" he cooed to her. Turning to Dawn slowly, "You, lass, shall be the quartermaster of punishment in our little game." Catherine's eyes sparkled. The hatred and awoken lust that she never knew existed were welling up inside her and her fear was departing. Catherine was fuming; the thought of being struck by her own servant girl was too much for her to take. Her teeth clenched over the gag, as if it were Charles' throat. Dawn's gray-green eyes flashed and her pussy trembled with the intoxicant of power. Her mouth went dry and she looked up at Charles and said a voiceless, "Thank you, my captain," before swallowing hard. Fazul came over and helped dawn to her feet. He placed a heavy coil of leather into her trembling hand. She stared dumbfounded at it. Almost paralyzed by its power in her hand, Charles kissed the side of her neck as he stepped away. Fazul pulled Catherine up from the deck and gently laid her out on the table. Her breasts pointing towards the inky sky as he draped her legs over the sides of the table. Catherine was beside herself; she could not believe what was happening to her. As first one ankle then another was lashed to the table leg, she lay there catching a glimpse of Dawn, standing like Lilthe with the lash slowly uncoiling its painful length from her hand. Charles brought Olivia out. Her head was held high and proud as any captain of the seven seas. She thanked him politely as she leaned over the table and knelt, her arms outstretched, her thighs spread, her knees on the deck, her lips breathing hot onto Catherine's glistening blossom. "Ee am ready!" she announced. With that, a haphazard line formed with much pushing and shoving. Olivia lifted her head and spoke to Catherine, "Ee hopes 'ou ees sloot!" With that, she dove her face into Catherine's lashed open snatch. Catherine bit hard into the gag squeezing her eyes shut. Then she felt the table leap as Olivia's tongue was drove deep into her gaping chasm by a powerful thrust. She felt long fingers squeeze her nipples as bright white teeth closed hard upon her clit. Her pussy burst into flames and she moaned at the gag. Crack the lash landed fully across Catherine's stomach. Dawn had her eyes darting between the pair of humiliated women, scanning for any sign of weakness, any loss of control. Te lash seemed weightless in her hand, as it bit into Catherine. The sound rang in her ears and shook her, scorching her own cunt. Catherine instantly snapped her eyes shut, trying to ignore the pain and the tongue that was flicking and darting, then crushing against her with the sailors thrust from behind her attacker. Her tied hands strained to rip out and., and what, hold Olivia's head or pull it away? Her legs tugged at their bonds, and she shook her body. This only fueled the fire within her pussy; she bit her tongue for control. Olivia closed her eyes, determined to ignore the desperate pounding at her pussy, trying to focus her complete attention upon the small throbbing bundle on the tip of her tongue. She drank thirstily at the woman's juices to keep herself from drowning. Suddenly she felt the hot flow of semen blast her depths. One, she tried not to count and held her eyes shut tight as one bent sword fell from her sheath. It was so soon replaced by another she pulled her head up for breath as she was skewered. Her teeth clenched, just above those honeyed lips that arched to follow her. She shuddered despite herself, as her deepest reaches were pried open roughly. Immediately she felt the hot bite of the leather cross her shoulders and heard the cheer erupt from Charles' bastards. She dove down hard trying to refocus. Misty Dawn & The Raven Ch. 10 ***** The line grew shorter. Dawn's arm could hardly lift the lash and she leaned heavily upon the mast, eyeing the pair of striped, beaten bitches before her. Her own excitement had coated her thighs; every stroke was like a small release in her body, yet she dreaded the next one that was inevitable. Catherine had nearly chewed the gag through in attempts to avoid Dawn's admonishment for failing their master. Her lips were worn raw, and her voice was hoarse from shrieks of stinging pain, and cries of ecstasy. Her breasts were laced with red lines of cruelty that shone on her pale flesh. Her skin glistened with sweat from her twin exertions of bliss and cruelty. Her mind buzzed with release and the wash of collapse from pain. She could not comprehend her reactions; she was longing for the strike and dreading the tongue that would bring it upon her. Olivia had not been beaten this well in years. Her shoulders and back were screaming from the sting of the lash. Her face was drenched with a coating of Catherine's release and saliva that spilled down her chin and neck. Her thighs were soaked with sperm and her pussy was so stretched as to be falling numb, for which she was thankful. She was nearing exhaustion, she could not endure much more punishment, and she had never been so used. Another faceless cock pulled its shrinking self free from her and she waited for the next assault. Robbins stepped up for his due, tossing his empty bottle aside. His rum clogged fingers tugged at his belt, as his trousers fell a roar of laughter erupted across the sea. Olivia did not look up; she continued her sucking on the lips before her. A sense of dread was filling her mind what could have caused such an eruption. Robbins' face went a deeper red than either woman's skin, as he shook his mast, trying to encourage it to hoist. It did not respond to his increasingly frustrated and violent urgings. The laughter was booming all around the deck as Robbins publicly displayed his impotence of drink to all. "HALT!" Charles voice boomed over the seas. He caught Dawn's wrist staying her blow from Catherine who was shuddering once more, unheard due to the laughter. The laughter ceased. A murmur ran across the deck of the Raven. "It would seem that our pair of subjects have outlasted you lot," Charles scowled at his crew, his eyes finally resting upon Robbins' flushed face. A chorus of groans erupted from those still waiting their turns behind Robbins. "Clear the decks, you dogs!" Charles barked and the crew began to shrink back to the shadows. Two of the men right behind Robbins each grabbed an arm and drug him away screaming in fear. Charles kissed Dawn gently on the neck as he pulled the lash from her tightly woven fingers, "Thank you, my pet." Dawn was panting for breath and shaking at the brush of his lips upon her neck, and could only manage a nod as Fazul stepped forward to attend to Olivia and Catherine. Misty Dawn & the Raven Ch.11 Charles led Dawn away from the deck, the lash trailing behind them, slithering across the deck towards his door. In the opposite direction, Robbins was babbling drunken excuses as his arms were pulled by many angry hands of those crewmen who had not gotten a turn through the offered delights of the evening. Robbins screamed as the door to that led below decks was pulled open and he was propelled roughly through it. The stairs creaked under his weight as he bounced from one to another rolling down the rough-hewn wood planks like a drunken sea bag dropped unceremoniously down the dark stairway. Robbins opened a swelling eye from the deck as he tried to lift himself painfully from the floor at the bottom of the stairs. Panic flashed through his blurred vision, knowing he had to run, he had to escape... Before he could raise himself to unsteady knees, his head was jerked up hard as two hands surrounded his neck from behind. “Mass’r Robbins,” Phillip hissed into his ear, “I have heard many times that to fail your brother in arms is to carry their burdens.” Robbins tried to shake his head, “Ph-Ph-Phil., uh...” Robins was cut off in his useless plea for mercy as Phillip increased his squeeze on the old man’s throat, silencing him and dragging him roughly down the dim hall. A host of rage filled and lust laden men following in their flailing wake. Phillip paused only to kick the door to the stores room open. He roughly brought the man who had denied them their prize of captain pussy over a barrel toppling it. Instantly Robbins was gasping for breath the red marks of Phillips hateful fingers evident on his neck. He rolled the barrel clumsily in a pathetic attempt to escape. Before he could hardly catch his breath let alone regain his balance, his wrists and ankles were all seized and pulled tight. Robbins mind went blank as he felt the thick heavy rigging ropes lashing around his limbs and stretching him over the barrel. The sound of his soiled trousers ripping under Phillip’s curved knife. “NOO!!!” Robbins managed to whine loudly as tears began to fall from his blazing eyes. “Shut the ol’ fool up!” Phillip replied. Robbins mouth was still open in shout when the discarded rag was forced down his throat, choking his breath and stifling his drunken objections. Phillip yanked hard and downward on the helpless man’s severed trousers, causing them to fall in an uneasy heap around the old man’s tethered ankles. “Well, since you have denied us all our go at the sluts, we could not deny sharing ourselves with you,’ Phillip taunted as he fumbled pulling his enraged manhood from its confines. Robbins whimpered pitifully into the gag as Philip stepped forward and dug his fingers into Robbins cheeks, prying them apart to reveal the male receptacle of penetration. “Robbins,” Phillip said nonchalantly, “I am sure this will hurt you more than it does me. Just think if you really were a slut, it would be far better for yourself, taking on the crew and all,” Phillip said as he set the thick, hot head of his cock between Robbins ass cheeks, looming just outside of Robbins’ panic twitching muscles. Phillip leaned across the old man’s back and whispered into his ear, “Don’t worry, Robbins, I will still respect you in the morning, YOU BITCH!!” Phillip bellowed into his ear as he gripped the old man’s sweating cheeks as he drove himself painfully into the man’s bowels. Dawn was trembling with the rush of power as Charles led her to the bed, and laid her down on her back. Her nipples were swollen and aching with intensity of her actions. The insides of her thighs were greased with unknown passions. Her mind was awash in an insane tide of power and desire. Never in her life had she enjoyed something as much as the feel of the hard leather handle of the lash in her grip, the sound of its cracking on flesh, the sight of red streaks crossing skin in its wake... the passion... yes the passion.... She had no context to place this within, but she knew that she wanted it. If her tongue were capable of talk, she would be begging Charles for more opportunities to wield that length of power and met out punishments. Her head was swimming; if it weren’t for the inability of her mouth to draw breath, she would have not known Charles was crushing his lips to hers. His tongue was diving deep into her mouth, trying to catch her tongue, and drag it into a frenzied dance. Nearly choking Dawn finally found herself, lashed her arms about the neck of her lover, her captor, and squeezed him closer. Kissing him back with unbridled passion, desperate to express her gratitude to him for letting her feel what she was now so fully feeling. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she tried to tear the shirt from Charles’ back, desperate in her need. Charles pulled his lips from hers and then stood from the bed, “So, Dawn,” he began with tat irritating mocking tone he used to taunt. “You seemed to enjoy handling the lash?” He asked as he stood with his feet set even with his shoulders and he crossed his arms across his chest. “Yes, oh master, Captain, Charles, I loved it...” Dawn stammered and pleaded her eyes glistening with tears, fearing he was to denounce her new found desires? “I had wagered you would enjoy that, there is nothing so powerful as the thrill of holding pain over another,” Charles said bemused as he studied her downcast face. “This was your first taste, now you know what I feel when enjoying you. Perhaps, you can understand the destiny of pleasure that you give me. I should think you would never forget this night’s lesson, will you.” Charles asked with no expression betraying what thoughts he held secreted behind his handsome face. “N-no, I will never forget,” Dawn, said softly, unsure of the point of this dialogue. All that she could comprehend at this moment was the need of her body to be filled and pleased. To be used and taken, to culminate what she had just done. She was wracked with a painful burning deep within her soul, a hellfire had ignited, and she had to quench it. She had to... “I doubt not, my slut,” Charles said almost cruelly as he stepped towards her. He smiled softly as he laid her back onto the bed taking her wrist in his hand gently. Dawn closed her eyes as his gentle touch fanned her flames. She knew it was only a matter of time before he would finish her satisfaction, giving himself to her desire. She felt first one wrist, then the other tied tightly tot he bed with the velvet curtain cords. Next, he gently pulled at her ankles. Kissing one slickened thigh as he labored slowly upon tying her legs up in reflection of her arms. Dawn purred as she felt herself tethered, a warm comfort in her exposure, spread and held, awaiting his desires. She felt the bed move, sure, he was standing to remove his clothes and join with her. “First, slut you must learn to control yourself, and your passions before you can sate them,” Charles said coldly. Her gray-green eyes snapped open, to catch Charles looming over her. He was holding his rigid flesh in one rapidly pumping fist right before her eyes. Panic crept back into her mind robbing her of the warm comfort that had enveloped her and leaving her with the painful, flaming desire racking her entire body with pain worse than anything she could have driven with the lash into Catherine or that beautiful black captainess. “To this end, Dawn, I will leave you with only this... Aaaahhhhhh,” Charles said with a very satisfied grunt as thick hot ropes of his release erupted and fell uselessly across her face. His seed trailing across her cheek in a searing reminder of her unheeded need caused tears to burst from her eyes as he righted his clothing and turned his back on her, and her desire. “You did wonderfully, my pet, now get some sleep, and learn to love that passion in your belly, goodnight my love,” Charles said softly as the door to the cabin closed behind him leaving Dawn alone with he pain of her desire, and the improperly used seed mixing with her tears on her cheeks in the darkness of the cabin. Misty Dawn & The Raven Ch.12 Dawn lay tied to Charles' bed throughout the night, though she was vain to find the safe harbor of sleep within its finery, until the morning sun was warming the darkness of the cabin with its first yawning rays. As she drifted on the rolling tide of sleep, her mind was filled with dreams dancing on edge of her deep azure horizon. They were filled with the distant, translucent aromas of distant harbors and flashes of violence and power. Her empty palm clenched seeking the feel of the myriad of small diamonds of leather in the lash's grip once again. Her naked back flinched away from the soft, cool enveloping silks of Charles' regal sheets, as if they too were seeking the taste of harsh leather more preferred by her newly developed pallet. Her wrists strained at their moorings, more to simulate her own weight than in any desire for escape. Out of the inkiness of her dreams she felt as if she had nearly found herself, but as yet was still lost; though she could feel that the gentle rolling of the waves beneath her were carrying her purposefully to herself. To a glorious freedom that she could not quite imagine, not quite grasp even while she restlessly wrestled it in her dreams. All of this shattered instantly with a gigantic but ever tender caress of her cheek that snapped her gray-green eyes open. "Sultan's girl," the hulking moor whispered quietly through a pair of broad smiling lips, "I think you should eat something and recover your strength, we are almost there." With that, he slowly lifted his hand from her flushing cheek to her left wrist and began fumbling with the knotted curtain tie. Dawn gasped at his words, not quite sure if she had been awoken from her dream or if she had just fallen into one. Her heart raced as her fingers tingled with the sensation of blood returning unobstructed to her digits. As her second hand was freed, Dawn moaned quietly and began rubbing her wrists with her tingling fingers. The large baldhead of the Moor darted from her ankle to her face then turned away without a word. Dawn sat up; realizing he had heard her and bowed her head, her fiery curls falling around her flooding cheeks. "Do not be ashamed, Sultan's girl," Fazul said softly as he worked the knot loose freeing her ankle, "Sultan would be very pleased that his woman loves the feel of his bondage so. To have the freedom to offer yourself to another's every callous whim is a badge of honor, wear it proudly, Sultan's girl." With that, he patted her calf softly stimulating circulation with his massive hand and rose from the bed with a sorrowful creak as it begged for his presence upon it. Just as Dawn's flesh begged for the tyrannies of the cords upon her limbs. Dawn kept her head lowered as she fought with the Moor's wisdom within her own mind. Somehow, she understood, but had no idea of how she was capable of doing so. "Thank you, Fazul," She said haltingly though she was not entirely sure she was. The large man turned and bowed to her with a colossal smile before pulling the door closed quietly behind him. Still rubbing the red dents from the curtain ties from her wrists Dawn glanced over to Charles' commanding desk. Upon it sat a platter of gold piled with fine fruits and hearty meats still steaming. A bottle of excellent wine stood beside it, the cork hanging loose on a short string about its tapered green neck. She smiled at the feast Fazul had left for her, he certainly was only so huge of chest because of the great heart that beat within it, and she smiled to herself. Then her gray-green eyes fell upon Charles' chair and her mouth fell open. Draped over his carved wood chair was the most lavish gown Dawn had ever seen. It was made of sparkling silks, layers of transparent cloth spilled over the hidden shape of the chair. The cuff of one sleeve hung heavy to the just off the floor with a ring of pink pearls sewn into the dusty rose of the silk. There was a small folded parchment laid softly upon the billowing bodice's gilt drawstrings, sealed with a tiny drop of wax. Rising slowly, Dawn approached the desk with caution, like a cat approaching a new bauble. She first plucked a slice of orange from the tray before she raised her curious gray-green gaze to the note once more. In an elegant pen across the folded parchment she read, "Misty Dawn." Sucking the orange wedge into her lips and feeling the citric taste of its delicate juices flood over her parched tongue she gingerly plucked the note from the dress and broke the seal. Dawn, What a good little toy you have been, my pet. I have a task for you that should come natural to one of your immense talents. As you know, I have bargained with Captain Olivia to regain her command. You, my sweet, have the lucky part of seducing her usurping captain. Shortly we shall arrive in Port Royale, which is undoubtedly where Duval will be taking the Witch for refitting. You shall play the courtesan, Duval has a weakness for Venetian courtesans, and thus he shall have you. You, my sweet, must seduce him for the plan to succeed. Give in to him as if his touch were my own. I am sure you will have no difficulty with that, for he is a man led entirely by his maleness, and not at all by his brain. Duval is a brutal and dangerous man; I pray I have prepared you enough for him. Once you have sufficiently sated, we shall strike for the Witch. All our plans rest with your success in this matter. Succeed and I shall see you rewarded as a full member of the undertaking. I should not have to mention what failure in this shall mean for your skin. Now, eat hearty, and get dressed in this Venetian gown. Fazul will help ensure it fits you perfectly. He is so very talented. Olivia and I shall put you ashore this evening with Catherine as your maid and Fazul as your protector. It is paramount that Duval be kept amused on shore while we press for the Witch! C. Dawn dropped the parchment, her head swam, but before she knew what she was doing, she was devouring the feast Fazul had set for her and staring at the light rose silks across the desk from her. Her lips smiled softly as the crystal goblet tipped port to her tongue in a tiny sip. She could already feel the heat of her core glistening between her thighs at the danger of this task. Still in addition, were the fires of her desire to prove herself, yet again to her master? Her thoughts disappeared with the shock of a small rap upon the cabin door. "Sultan's girl, are you ready for your fitting?" the familiar voice of the hulking Moor said flatly from behind the closed wood. "Yes, Fazul," Dawn said standing and setting the wine aside, "please come in." ************ Robbins peered painfully out of a porthole across the darkness of the night. He could see the twinkling lamps of Port Royale and he could hear the voices of his Captain and his bitch as a long boat was creakingly lowered past his small window to the world. His ass was still afire from the plundering it had sustained by his shipmates. Dried semen and coagulated blood laid a thin crust over his black and blued cheeks, the evidence of his sodomy. He forced himself to stand though his legs still were bowed, as his body had not yet recovered from his violations. "Damn you, Cap'n!" he cursed under his breath with a rage bent on vengeance. Just then, the long boat past his porthole and he saw the pretty one all-gauded up in Venetian silks that sparkled in the moonlight. Her breasts were squeezed and thrust upwards, her areoles, rouged and protruding temptingly from above the line of the lace and sewn pearl edge of the bodice, pulled tight with gilt cords. Drooping down to the delightful furrow of her corseted breasts she wore a sting of pearls that ended in a Mary Magdalene medal, marking her a prostitute. The hated Moor and the older slut were in the boat with her as it drifted to the waves below. Robbins pushed himself from the window and instantly knew what must be afoot. Mad with vengeance he carefully opened the door to his bunk and crept towards the deck. Once he made it to the deck, Robbins forced his rape weary legs to carry him to the far gunnel. Snagging a mooring line, he wrapped a lust-stained thigh about the hemp and slid himself quietly to the water. The coarse rope bit at his inner thigh, his bared cock bounced in the moonlight. He gritted what teeth he had left as the salt water of the Caribbean washed over his tormented flesh. With a strength that only revenge can muster in a man, Robbins began to swim for land. Salt bit and stung at his bloodied flesh. His legs cramped in the chill waters. His old arms tired then complained with pain. The determination that once long ago before drink and age had dulled it, returned full force to Robbins' mind. No longer was this the doddering old fool that was the butt of so many jokes, gone was the impotence of an old seaman. Robbins' eyes blazed across the dark waves as he forced himself towards the shore. Every haggard breath, every twitch of a limb propelling him through the sea was a forceful act of vengeance. Just when Robbins was beginning to feel, his new found strength leave his body. When the salty pain of the sea on his recently opened channel felt insurmountable, a drooping bare foot sank as his toes found sand just before his lips drifted beneath the waves. A maniacal laugh was drown out by the lapping waves upon the beach as Robbins walked out of the surf, panting and gasping for breath in the darkness. His tattered striped shirt clinging to rolls of alcoholic lard, his mass of gray hair shrouding his chill shriveled manliness in the night; but his heart was beating hard with a passion as great a power as greed or lust, and equally as dark and dangerous as either. *************** Fazul's massive frame blotted out the boarding house window, his statuesque silhouette and his bare tattooed back of dark skin tightly stretched over titan like muscles was all that Dawn could see as he watched the harbor. He had been like that all morning and into the afternoon, unflinching, watching the horizon. Dawn absently accepted the glass of wine Catherine offered her without a word as she stared in turn at Fazul's back and tried to ignore the putrid stench of the cramped and barbaric city she had found herself in. Suddenly Fazul whirled around from his pose then snapped the glass closed, "The Witch is upon us, Sultan's girl, we must let you met the ship at the docks," Fazul boomed his instructions, causing both Dawn and Catherine to nearly choke on their sips of the tasteless wine of this place in sudden surprise. Instantly, as if they were both seasoned veterans Fazul sent them out to meet the battered vessel pulling into the harbor. Dawn led the way her head held high in the afternoon sun. The rustle of silk announced her every dainty step on tiny slippers adorned with gems. She did not need to bother with holding her skirts above her footsteps, as the cut of the layered silks left the front of her stockinged legs open for accessibility, then tapered down to the sides and trailed behind in a train of translucent succulence. She giggled to herself as she glanced with her eyes at her exposed legs of how much more practical the dress of a courtesan was to those of ordinary women. It was open for movement, every step allowed a cascade of silk to tantalize her skin, and she had not bother worrying about treading, or indignantly tripping on the hem, which was lifted by the cut of the gown. Catherine' palms were sweating as she lifted her own dark, plain dress hem while holding her mistress' silk and lace parasol above her fiery hair to shade it from the harshness of the sun. She marveled at Dawn's composure as they walked down the sloping cobblestone streets towards what dangers she could only guess upon. She also marveled at the beauty of Dawn, as the sun seemed to pry its way through layer after layer of her rustling silk folds, not unlike a rose peeling itself back towards the sunlight to reveal is inner most secrets. Part of Catherine was quietly pleading with the rest of her to run, she was at least by some respects out of captivity. She could run for help, perhaps even find her husband at the governor's mansion and he could put a stop to these atrocities she had endured. But Catherine realized that it was a far easier task to face possible death in anonymity with this new threat upon the docks than it was to face her own humiliation to society. Therefore, she bit her lip nervously and followed in Dawn's wake like a dutiful servant to her matron. Dawn and Catherine politely pushed their way through the crowd on the docks, Dawn saw him, the thin mustached man, now sporting a gentleman's jacket, bargaining with many shipwrights and carpenters for their services. As they approached, both of them ignoring every offer made for Dawn's services, Pierre Duval caught a glimpse of shimmering pink silks and blazing hair in the bright afternoon sun. Dawn's eyes met his gaze and she smiled coyly to his stare that was as ruthless and cold as a hangman's. Pierre immediately stepped his bargaining and began passing out coins from a well-laden purse to the thankful hands before him. Ignoring all their thanks and promises He pushed his way through them, his dark eyes flaming with lust. Dawn turned away from him as he approached and hearing his footsteps began to cheerfully speak to her maid, "Well, Catherine, it seems that no man of sufficient funds has a taste for us today, let us retire, perhaps tomorrow's tide will bring a real man to this empty nest of penniless cretins." Catherine nodded not daring to speak and reveal the tremble in her throat and was just turning around to walk back tot eh cobblestone streets when a black velvet purse landed and spilled gold that shone as bright as the sun on the wooden planks of the docks between her own and Dawn's feet. No sooner had the purse hit the deck than Dawn was spun around with harsh hands on her bare shoulders. "Nay, bitch," a cruel voice hissed from beneath a mustache as dark eyes devoured Dawn's breasts, "I think ye have o'er looked one man amongst this lot, with both coin and strength to take up your time." Dawn gasped as she looked into those eyes, cruel and pitiless they were, and as dark as the heart that beat beneath the broad belt that held the cutlass at his hip. Quickly she regained her composure even as her heart began to race within her tightly corseted chest, "S-so, I see..." Dawn said taking a breath and managing to bat her shadowed eyes. Locking his dark eyes with her own uniquely gray-green ones she continued without looking away, "Catherine, be a dear and retrieve this gentleman's purse." Catherine again only nodded and slowly knelt down to gather up the purse and it spilt contents, though the task was made extremely hazardous given the sweating of her palms and the trembling of her fingers. Pierre's hands roughly slipped over Dawn's shoulder and raced down her sides until they plucked the top layer of veil thin silk from her hips and rubbed its smoothness between his fingers, as if she were hanging in a tailor's shop and he was determining the quality of the fabric. "It would seem sir, that you have coin enough," Dawn smiled as he explored her body. Reaching a hand delicately forward, she gripped at the swelling bulge in his tight breeches, her fingers massaging its firmness for a moment causing it to swell faster. "Aye, and meat enough for a famished chat, like you!" Pierre barked as he thrust his hips forward to her fingers as his hands roughly gripped her hips. Dawn shrieked at his words as she found herself hoisted from the dock, one slipper falling from her stockinged toe as a billowing of silk caught the offshore breeze and she was slung unceremoniously over the man's shoulder like a sack of booty. Dawn felt the cool air of the breeze on her naked ass as her silk folds fell away from her flesh. The pink rose of her skirts unfurling in the wind, her own rose protruding to all the eyes of the dock, as she was perched upon the pirate's shoulder. Catherine gasped and blinked just as Dawn felt two calloused fingers pull her lips wide apart, "Look ye swab!" Pierre shouted to the crowded docks as he opened her glistening pussy broadly to the sun. "Look well at this 'ere little rose I just plucked. Fore when I have 'ad me fill o' 'er, this little bitch will be payin' you randy lot to keep yer cocks to yeslves!" With that, he broke into a boisterous laugh that led a burst of laughter from his audience, as he spun around lowly so that all could see her opened pussy. Pierre stopped his spin abruptly and glared down at Catherine who was still knelt to the dock, "Now, missy, show me to your mistress' chambers, si vous plait," Pierre laughed, a twinge of threat hung on his voice. Catherine nodded and rose, clutching the purse tight in her hand, she turned to lead Pierre, and Dawn back thought he crowded, polluted streets of the filthy port. Catherine stammered as she slowly raised to shaky legs, "Of-of course sir." Catherine led the way back through the streets to the smelly boarding house with its sea and sun weathered paint. Dawn hung loosely over the Frenchman's shoulder. As they walked through, he crowded streets of the dung heap of civilization. Dawn felt the broad leather of the shoulder slung baldric against her stomach through the thin layers of silks. Two malicious fingers held her lips parted wide, allowing the light breeze buffet her opened channel as he carried her. The bareness of her ass was available for the entire town to see, and their jeers and whistling hoots sent a fire to her cheeks as they dangled beneath her up ended skirts and drooping curls. Occasionally as Dawn was bounced like a heavily laden sea bag on Pierre Duval's shoulder she could feel her wide spread orifice tested by prodding fingers as Pierre continued to sample her wares. Pinching her exposed clit, then jabbing her painfully spread lips with a greedy finger, then an occasional loud resounding slap of an open palm across one cheek then the other, warming and reddening her shoulder hoisted posterior. All this she endured with growing excitement. As her ass was slapped causing her to bounce on the man's shoulder, she could feel her internal heat rising. Every pinch, every prod, every shouldered step rising the tide of her own lust; her displayed petals were thick with her juices that cooled most pleasantly in the wind. Her head was rushed with blood, and Duvall's ministrations were driving her mind from its skull. Dawn began arching against his deeply wiggling fingers. Her red, sunbathed ass tingled and reached for another blow. Dawn's clit throbbed and pleaded for more attention. Duval was keeping her at the edge of lust with well-practiced cruelties. Dawn felt her body becoming restless as she breathlessly and she lifted her hand running them along the curve of the pirate's ass. Duval grunted with lust as he felt her fingers over his breeches and beneath the tail of his coat. With relish, he slapped her opened pussy hard with his open palm. Dawn's spread and dew covered lips took full force of the blow with a squishing clap, and her lips gasped as a pain soaked wave of pleasure crested and threatened to break over her, just then her searching fingers wrapped around a smooth with use pistol butt tucked into Duval's belt. The realization of what she had gripped held her from release, and field her fires further, something awoke within her, a dangerous feeling of power; and she began to caress the insides of Duval's thighs with her other hand while she gingerly slid the heavy pistol from his belt. Dawn held er breath as she folded the polished wood, and black steel of the pistol into the layers of silk of her right sleeve. Just as Dawn was about to allow she to draw a breath, she felt Duval shift his weight and bury three fingers deep within her honey dewed opening. She gasped again, this time with more fear of discovery than with desire for those plunging and undulating digits griped tight by her slickly coated walls. Dawn had not realized that they had reached the narrow doorway to the boardinghouse and Duval was only adjusting her on his shoulder to gain entry to the tight portal. Misty Dawn & The Raven Ch.12 As the dark gloom of the shaded stairwell enveloped Dawn's upturned skirts, she allowed herself to take a halting breath. Meanwhile, Duval's fingers continued to stir her stew as his shoulder drove itself hard into her slung waist as he thudded his boots on the creaking split wood planks of the steeply set stairs climbing upwards towards the room that Fazul had obtained for them. The twin thrill of her successful theft and Duval's insistent trio of fingers; digging, twirling, scratching, pinching at her inner walls combing to send a silent but violent shudder through her entire body. "Ah what a hungry slut ye are, pretty," Duval leered as Catherine bowed her head and opened the chamber door for Duval to enter. Dawn simply moaned and shuddered again as her pussy bathed his fast pumping fingers with her heated cream. Duval slammed the door closed behind them, shutting Catherine out in the empty hall. Stomping across the empty room, he flung Dawn from his shoulder hard to the wood floor in the center of the room at the foot of the settee. Dawn shrieked at the mixed shocks of being flung from her perch, the solid impact of the unfinished floor planking upon her breasts and face, her lips being torn violently from the pinning digits holding them agape, and the desperate wrenching of Duval's fingers from her craving depths. Instantly she pulled her arm with its laden sleeve beneath her breasts making sure the sudden fall had not left her ill-gotten weaponry revealed before Duval's leering eyes. "Where was Fazul?" The question thundered in her stunned skull. She had half expected her giant protector to have already been defending her from Duval's lust. Expecting it, she actually was relieved that she would not be interrupted from this brute's attentions. Dawn lifted her blood filled head from the floor slowly as she tried to clear it from the clouds of pain, release, and further desire. She lifted her face and shook her red curls and a single gauze like layer of her train from her blood flushed cheeks. Her right hand slipped beneath he pearly hem of her sleeve and clutched the cold hard barrel of the pilfered pistol, her index finger drifting quickly over the wide opening while her others tightened and squeeze the cool shaft, as if trying to squeeze a pearly drop of prerelease from the deadly phallus in her hand. Dawn gasped and traced her lips with the tip of her tongue as she massaged the pistol with the tenderness of caresses beneath her sleeve. **************** Catherine bit her lip and stared at the thin door to the boarding house chamber. She clutched the parasol to her breast as she waited for some sound following the violent crash and shriek she heard from within. A trembling hand reached once for the door, then her fingers retracted and clenched into a fist. Unsure of what to do, surely a whore's handmaiden would not interrupt her mistress servicing a client. Yet, the weight of the danger of this moment troubled her heart more than she could bear. Continuing to bite her lips, she began to pace nervously before the door in the shadow filled hall. Therefore, intent upon listening to and watching the door, she did not notice the striped shirt moving behind her from a gloom-shrouded doorway. Nor could her nose discern the scent of rum laden breath from the stench that permeated this foul house in this cesspool port. ***************** The afternoon sun sparkled off the beads of sweat on Fazul's tattooed back as he raced back towards the boarding house. A fear gripped his heart and sped his strides to widen, pushing men in the crowded streets aside as if they were, but clothes on the line. Duval's reputation was legendary, and Fazul feared deeply for Sultan's girls tiny hide. He had signaled the Raven, as he was instructed, but now he raced to protect his charges from Duval's brutality. How many blocks did he have to cross, which was the most direct meandering narrow road through the slum filled port would lead him to the house he had left the women's fates to. *********** Taking a deep breath just as she felt powerful fingers, greased with her own release seized the back of her neck, digging into her flesh, squeezing her pulse from her head. "Now we shall see if ye can earn a coin, my purchased pleasure!" The hissing voice full of uncontrolled hatred filled her ears as her mouth opened under both shock and pressure from his iron grip. His second hand closed the circle of ever tightening fingers about her neck and her lungs plead for air within her chest as Duval slowly stepped in front of his prey. He thrust his hips forward crushing his tightly strained breeches to Dawn's parted pleading lips. Dawn struggled to control her quickly ascending fear, fighting it back with the inner strength of a fearless sea captain. She forced her teeth to close over the tented strings over Duval's cock. Small quick gasps of air drawn from her nose, his scent heavy with sweat, lust, and sea barely reached her lungs; she struggled to remain conscious. Using her tongue to both tease his covered cock and guide the strings between her teeth. Using all her strength she had in her neck, she pulled her head back opening his threads, instantly his cock pressed forward, its purple, bulging head bobbing forward; seeking, searching. Dawn lunged her head forward her fiery curls billowing around her cheeks, lapping against Duval's waist, and covering those powerful flexing fingers that threatened to close off what little breath she had remaining. Her parted lips closed hard around Duval's throbbing shaft. Her eyes rolled back in her head, but she managed to roll the large head with her tongue. Swallowing hard over his mast, Dawn forced herself to focus only on his cock. Pushing the gathering darkness from her mind, forgetting the burn of starving lungs from her chest, her entire world became coaxing his cock to fill her throat. Her only cognitive thought knew that her only chance to survive this was to bring the brute off before his fingers crushed the life from her bossy that still pleaded for more release, even more than a full breath of air. Duval squeezed her small throat and began violently shaking her head over his cock as he met it with thrusts of his own. Watching her feet begin to twitch on the floor as her head rocked back and forth with quick jerks at the command of his tightening hands. Still he could feel the greedy slut clutching at his cock with her swelling tongue. Her lips locked tightly over his shaft, despite the bluish pallor they were quickly acquiring. How long had it been since a slut had worked so well to save her own life? There was no fight, no struggle; she gave herself to his plundering cock. Ignoring her own breathless slow death, worshipping his mastery of her flesh, with her last breath, she strives to please his cock. Worshipping his power, praying faithfully for his mercy, begging to be given the last rights of his seed to finish choking what little was left of her throat. He watched as he shook her throat, her breast bouncing free of her bodice from the violence of his strangulation and power of his threat filling thrusts. Her rouged nipples were as hard as ruby red balls of musket shot. What little breath she could force through her nostrils were used not to fill her chest; but rather as they should be, to add vacuum to his cock. Dawn felt she had ten nooses about her neck, and the time she had the brutal intruder between her lips seemed an airless eternity. All was black and she felt herself slipping into nothingness her tongue registered the salty heat of eruption, using all her strength she sucked forcing herself to keep from coughing and loosing the last of her precious air. Her head was light, her bouncing breasts felt like painful weights upon her tightly bound chest. Yet, she managed to crack a smile, with semen spilling form the corner of her lips as her mouth was flooded with seed and her throbbing ears caught, "Mon Dieu!!!" from the pirate's hoarse shouts. All causing her body to twitch and buck as both want of breath, and her own release cascaded through her pain-wracked body. Misty Dawn & The Raven Ch. 13 Catherine wrung her hands and paced close to the door. She could hear muffled thuds and bumps from within. A fear gripped her soul as she paced, there was something she could not put her finger upon that was clawing at her mercilessly. She knew that Dawn was much more suited to her tasks than Catherine would ever be, and her own fear of the devil beyond the door held her in a nervous checkmate on the opposite side of it. Just as she had resigned herself to fretting kind of worry, knowing that her former servant, now masterful mistress would handle the situation perfectly whether Catherine worried or not; a new terror seized her. Catherine did not manage to gasp, as her mouth was sealed tight by the filth-covered fingers that clasped her lips in a manacle grip. Her arms flew up to fend off an attack and then were stayed at the sight of the broad bladed knife that glinted cruelly before her eyes just before it slid beneath her jaw to press its cool sharpness to her thin throat. "Remember me, crone," the familiar, rum soaked hiss of Robbins licked like a flame from the deepest pit of hell over her ear just as she felt the portly body cinch itself hard to her back. With eyes spread wide as unclipped florins, Catherine could only nod hastily, if not vigorously into the gripped hand over her mouth and the steel at her neck. "Well then since there seems to be no need for introductions." Robbins grinned, savoring his regained power. "I 'ld wager that the cap'n's other bitch is right now mesmerizing good cap'n Duvall with her soiled charms, in there," Robbins indicated with a nudge of the tip of his knife to the door. He was careless enough to let the blade bite Catherine's neck a wee bit. Catherine nodded again, despite the faint trickle and pain that shot across her dark bodice. Using Catherine's weight, coupled with his own, Robbins threw himself through the door to the seedy boudoir. The door crashed open jarring Duval back into the world, he had been savoring the experience as he watched the gray-green eyes fluttering as the sweet face ashen beneath his grasp. What beauty he held in his powerful hands as what could be the last of her lungs bubbled his coating of seed around his shrinking mainsail and between paling lips. Instantly, Duval fell back in a defensive stance, casting the used corpse aside roughly. The heavy cutlass leapt from his baldric, its razor tip set out from his face even with his nose. Robbins halted just inside the splintered doorway, his battered hostage draped over his torso blood trickling from her throat and a large purpling mark on her forehead showing her unconsciousness. For a moment, the two men studied one-another sizing up the situation of the short distance between them both. Neither heard the gurgled coughing from the crumpled doll whose arms were sprawled beneath the settee. "Cap'n Duval," Robbins began, "sir, I have come to warn you that your command is under attack." As if on cue, the sounds of exploding gun powered erupted from the direction of the docks. Duval heard the man's words, then the sounds of fire. His soldier's mind leapt through the progression of what he must do. Never taking his gaze from the dirty sailor before him, he seen his first step, and acted before his mind could even take it into an accounting. Robbins, hearing the first blasts, shot his gaze off Duval to the window to look out at the harbor. Duval launched himself to save his command as the fool turned, Duval had found that trusting no one was far safer, and cheaper than the course of trust. Robbins stunned head rolled from his shoulders as Duval passed through the door, his cutlass decorated by the old man's blood. Dawn, still gasping for breath pushed herself to a sitting position just in time to see Robbins head roll one way, as if to follow Duval out the door while his body twitched the other into a heap atop the bleeding Catherine. Dawn shuffled as fast as she could to her fallen co-conspirator, there seemed to still be breath from her lips as she pushed the lifeless body of the old mariner away like a foul bit of rubbish. Pressing the fine silks of her gown to Catherine's neck, ruining it instantly in a far darker color, she screamed past her tears, "FAZUL!" Fazul was just reaching the side entrance to the boarding house when he seen the front door erupts and the usurping pirate Duval burst from it. His great Saracen blade flashed to his hand, he could do the sultan a great service here. However, his ears held him back. He heard the scream from the upper floor. Haltingly he took a step towards the speeding captain, another scream more laden with terror pulled his giant form back. Spitting in the direction of the docks that were quickly becoming shrouded in puffs of smoke and ringing with the sounds of a small battle Fazul lunged his massive girth through the side door and leapt up the stairs towards the screams that pulled on his heart like the fingers of a gail on full sheets. ***** Charles' lips were frozen in a determined smile as he fought back to back with Olivia as they pushed their way across the battered deck of the Witch. Duval had certainly made a play for the command, very few of the crew seemed happy for the return of their former captainess. Smoke filled the air as the price for Olivia's command rose higher and higher, tallied by the shrieks of men of both crews. Duval ran full force up the docks, his boots clapping loudly, but unheard amongst the fray. Ignoring all, he pushed his way to the pair that challenged all his designs. Olivia, the hag, could not be content to drown, perhaps she would bleed? The happy thought of ridding himself of the arrogant master of the Raven pleased him no end. With chance, he alone would be the undisputed master of two fine vessels in a matter of moments. Laughing loudly as he swung up to the raging deck of the Witch, he plucked the well-balanced dagger from his boot. Knowing that Charles' proficiency with a blade was legendary, and far greater than Olivia's he chose the wisest approach, and let the dagger spin through the air. ******* "Sultan's girl," Fazul breathed heavily as he fell through the door, instantly moving in to the injured Catherine. Covering Dawn's hand with his, he slowly pulled back the edge of the bloodstained gown. Leaning his large baldhead down to allow his ear to feel Catherine's lips. He nodded as he felt the winds of life still present. Lifting his head slightly to further examine the cutthroat, he nodded and said something softly in the beauty of his own language that Dawn had always loved until this instant when she was certain that it was for the worst. Turning a giant smile to Dawn's lips, Fazul spoke softly, "Go, Sultan will need you, this one will live, though she will wear the traitor's mark." Dawn took the large tattoos of Fazul's cheeks in both her bloodied palms and kissed him. Then as fast as her shuffling gown would allow, she flew from the room, kicking her remaining slipper off to give her an even footing. ********* Two crews formed a ring on the smoke shrouded deck of the Witch. In its center, Duval stood, his cutlass at easy poise in his hand and his foot pinning a fallen cutlass to the deck just before the dark outstretched fingers of Olivia's hand as she crouched protectively over the prone form of her ally, the hilt of a dagger protruding from the center of his muscled shoulders. Quiet murmurs rustled between the crews as they waited for the moment when this dispute of command would settle two ships. Returning them all to the normality of the freebooters they all were. The battle was over, hanging in a draw. The only matter now was to wait for the stroke of Pierre Duval's blade would end any challenge to his rule over two ships. Duval could feel it. Finally, he had her, completely at his mercy. First, he was going to savor this moment, he had waited so long to taste this. "So Madame," he sneered cruelly over Olivia, "it would seem that matters are finally to be settled. As you can see, milady, your luck has ran out and your friends have ran away." Duval could feel his maleness stirring in his moment of triumph. Taking the tip of his blade he lifted her chin, delicately, "Now, Madame, la capitaine, plead, plead for your life to your superior," resting his breeches as he spoke letting his steeled flesh flash out before her face. "Take it," Duval snapped, his lust driving his words, "oui, take it, grant me the pleasure you always denied me and I will grant you a quick passing to hell." Olivia's large, single dark eye narrowed coldly, she spat on the tip of his displayed cock, "Nay, 'ou bas'arrd, nay, Ee weell neever grant 'ou such a gift!" Duval threw his head back and roared with laughter, this was by far better than if she had taken his offer. "Very well," Duval lecherously snickered, "but know this, cap'n slut, even after i have tortured you to death, I shall take your decapitated head and pleasure myself with it." Olivia spat in retort, "'Ould dat pleasoor 'our tastes, the cooled suckle of a lifeless skool?" A barrage of laughter erupted from the on looking sailors at her defiance. "It shall, it shall indeed," Duval hissed with a thin lipped sneer. "No slut I have had has lived to tell the tale, and none shall. So long as I am captain." The silenced crowded turned at once to the shout from the edge of still lowered gangplank. "There is one!" Dawn shouted forcing Duval to turn his face at the one who would rain upon his gala parade. "And having shared a true captain, can only grant you one service." With that, Dawn raised Duval's pilfered pistol and leveled it across the deck to his head. Duval laughed, "No more whores!" Drawing his cutlass high to remove the threat to his command before dealing with the impudent slut of the port, he never heard the loud retort. The blast recoiled the pistol in Dawn's hand back to her ear, but through the smoke clouded air she watched the small red rose blossom upon Duval's cold brow. Smoke trickled out of the imploded hole, between his blank staring eyes. The rings of blood that surrounded it struck Dawn strangely, reminding her of the look of a vaginal opening, tiny though it was before he staggered back a pace before collapsing over the gunnel to bob in the foaming tide. ******* Two months later... Dawn stood on the forecastle of the Raven, the wind buffeted her crimson locks, and her large gold hoop swung loosely from her right earlobe. Her left hand rested loosely on the hilt of jeweled rapier that hung from the leather shoulder band that ran between her bared breasts. Her right hand toyed with Catherine's dark locks, as she knelt at her captain's feet wearing only a contented smile and the black silk scarf that hung just under the stitched scar on her neck. The tightness of the crimson leather breeches that clung to her legs felt hot as the evening sun washed over them pleasurably. As did, the comforting feel of the large buckled belt, holding tight to her hip the long, silver inlaid barrel of the French made pistol; and the coiled length of the black leather scourge. Dawn drew a deep breath of the sea air, allowing the sensuous caress of it all fill her body. The snap of the glass behind her caused her golden loop to shimmer as she turned to face Fazul, "Sultana," the gentle giant smiled, "the sail is that of the witch." Dawn nodded over the mosaic tattoo that Fazul had told her meant strength that decorated her pinked pale shoulder, "Fazul," she said as she turned from the forecastle, "signal Cap'n Olivia, that I would have her dine with me tonight." Glancing a cool sea witch's gaze back to her second mate, "Tell her I have sport for her. Kitty!" Turning and letting her heavy boot toe run roughly against Catherine's ass as a way to get her pleasure moving. Fazul bowed his tattooed dome and grinned, "Yes, mistress." He turned to the deck and gave the order to signal the witch as Dawn led Catherine, still on her knees across the planks. Dawn paused and turned to shout to Fazul, "Fazul, see to it that the box is ready, Cap'n Olivia does like a good when she visits." Fazul hid his smile at the thought of what awaited the two men who had been found steeling from the Raven's hold. "As your will, Sultana." THE END Thanks to those of you who have enjoyed this story in its entirety, Especially the inspiring vision of ~d~. thank you, ~Swash~ Misty Dawn & The Raven Ch. 2 Dawn had Lady Catherine sobbing into her bosom softly when they both shook at the sound of the cannon's report. What that thundering sound signified they could only guess. Thankfully Lady Catherine had fallen to sleep in the dark, stank hole where they had found themselves. Dawn fought sleep with her body. Her wrists ached from the bite of the ropes. The rough hemp pressed against her soft skin, as Lady Catherine's weight pressed against her thighs and abdomen. The curved wood wall crushed against her back and red locks in the darkness as the ship rolled on to God only knew where. Thoughts began to cloud her mind, what were they to do with her? Where were they headed? The hollow ache n her stomach asked if they were to be fed. Her fear gripped her as the ship rolled on. Eventually, exhaustion and the gentle roll of the sea wove its siren call around her as well and Dawn passed into a fitful, dream filled slumber. Her dreams were of dangerous men and mystical lands, a nightmare that mirrored her new reality. Dawn was wrenched from her fitful dreams by the sounds of the grinding of hinges and the shrill shriek of Lady Catherine. "Damn you, bastards!" Dawn spat, as she was drug forcibly from the dark little cell. Rough hands pressed the flesh of her shoulders as she was hauled up the steep steps to the blazing sun of the deck. As the sun burned her gray-green eyes, she was tossed unceremoniously to the deck before the mainmast of the Raven. Dawn landed hard on her cheek and knees, with her wrists still bound at the small of her back. She felt instantly unladylike, and could feel her cheeks burning, as she realized she had landed with her shapely bottom thrust skyward, and her legs splayed from her lack of balance and her sudden, unceremonious landing. Her ears burned as she heard from one of the smelly brutes that had drug her to daylight, "Aye, I c'n see wh' the cap'n sees with this treasure." Dawn's own terror was set back a bit as Lady Catherine flopped next to her, shrilly shrieking that her husband would pay anything for her safe return, blithering to anyone who would listen. Dawn quickly rolled herself onto her back on the deck; her still burning eyes horrified her at the disarrayed state of her skirts. Suddenly, she saw scattered about the deck piles of things from her former vessel; Lady Catherine's wardrobe, the captain's sea chest, her mistresses' jewels and finery were all lain out and shining in the sun. As she forced her eyes to continue to take stock of the situation, she noticed that many men were circled around the mast and the pile of ill-gotten gain, Lady Catherine, and herself. The throng of men, were variously adorned, some with large earrings, others with two pistols thrust into their belts, some with heavy blades slung about their shoulders, and one giant of a man with no hair and a tattooed design on his scalp. There was lust and hunger in all their greedy eyes. A new terror settled into Dawn's defiant heart. Suddenly, out of the crowd with bold steps strode one man, the man who she had failed to kill. His muscled chest bared beneath the fire of the sun, his long blond locks buffeted slightly in the wind, and a dangerous smile at his lips. Dawn narrowed her gray-green eyes and bit her lip as he walked deliberately to stand before her. "This, ladies," he addressed his prisoners, "is a division of wages. As this," he continued with a whimsical wave to the bounty gained from the plundered ship that littered the deck, "does not render enough for all to share. I have told my men that I will take only one jewel from our prize." His last sentence hissed off his tongue as his pale eyes burned into Dawn's. She instantly turned her head aside, avoiding his gaze. Charles held his smile as he knelt and roughly gripped Dawn's chin, pulling her eyes back to his relentless gaze. "This will be my jewel," Charles said flatly, but loudly enough for all to hear. "Do with the lot as you will, me hardies!" There was a small laughing cheer from his men as they set tot he deck to pick over the loot. Dawn's cheeks fell. She was to be raped. Her shock left her quickly as he held her chin and her fire returned. She lifted a leg to strike, but the grinning pirate caught her ankle and deflected a blow aimed for his groin. Charles rose up and laughed boisterously, backing just out of range of Dawn's thrashing kicks. His laughter was echoed by many of his crew before he found voice to speak, "Fa-Fazul," Charles managed, "bring my pet." With that Charles turned and his black boots clicked across the deck. Dawn had tears creeping down her face as the giant dark-skinned man loomed near to her. Before she knew it, she was scooped up in a massive arm and hauled towards the cabin door. Her feet being drug to keep pace with the giant's long strides. His arm bigger than most legs was thrust through the notch of her bound arm as he led her to the door. Dawn's mind raced, it was like some insane mockery of being led down the aisle. The only thing she owned, her virtue was about to be stolen, and she seemed helpless to stop it. Her eyes burned with hatred and ran with silent tears. Behind her, an ear splitting scream from Lady Catherine forced her to squeeze her eyes shut. Charles had his back to the door when he heard Fazul drag his pet in to the room. "That will be all, Fazul," Charles said without turning around. Fazul released Dawn's arm and slightly bowed his head, closing the door behind him as he exited. Dawn cautiously cracked her eyes open, before them, she saw the backs of knee-high soft leather boots. She slowly raised her gaze over breeches pulled tight over well-muscled claves and thighs... "What was she doing?" she demanded of herself as she shook her head, as if to clear it. The captain slowly turned to face her, "What shall I call you, m'pet?" he asked with a calm smile. Dawn stood straight and defiant, eyes spitting fire as she looked upon Charles' handsome face, "Dawn, not that it means anything to the likes of you," she spat. "Perhaps not," Charles shrugged as his eyes devoured her curves hungrily. "No matter, lass," Charles added as he reached out and softly caressed her cheek. Dawn instantly recoiled from his touch. "My pet," Charles said coldly as he circled behind her, "you should learn some manners. On this ship, I am master, and I have invested in you. You would do well to not disappoint me, pet." She felt powerful fingers set upon her shoulders, slightly baring her shoulders. "So, pet," Charles whispered into her ear, his lips brushing her lobe as he spoke "are you to behave?" His hot breath on her ear sent a twinge down her spine, burning into her belly; she inhaled deeply and said nothing. "I think we can dispense with these," Charles said softly as he quickly uncoiled the rope from her wrists. Dawn instantly spun around and raked her open palm across Charles square jaw in a loud slap. Her palm stung from the blow she delivered, but her adversary did not flinch, "Now we will see to those manners, pet," Charles hissed his words as cold as air escaping a tomb. His cold eyes fixed upon hers for an instant and then he grabbed her waist hard, doubling Dawn over on his arm. In a leap, he was at his chair and throwing Dawn over his knee. Dawn was gasping for breath that had been forced from her lungs as he seized her when her head was covered with a billowing shroud of her skirts. Then she felt her ass being exposed as her petticoats were thrust aside, a new panic filled her mind and she tried to squirm free of his iron grip. That is when the first stinging blow from a broad palm landed hard upon her tender bottom. "Aaahhhhh!" She gasped despite herself, more from surprise than from the pain. Then a second blow reddened her opposite cheek. Charles planted blow after blow upon her shapely, creamy cheeks. He inwardly smiled as he watched the rapid blows bringing her ass to a rosy glow. The blows fell faster as he watched his work upon her flesh. Dawn gasped in time with the blows, she was barely aware of anything other than the rain of his masculine palm upon her tender flesh. She hardly noticed the pressure increasing into her side from his swelling manhood. Suddenly, she was jerked upright and forced with a harsh hand to sit on the hard surface of the ornate desk. Her own weight was inflicting her with more pain as she was forced to sit. "Now, pretty," Charles smiled as he crossed his arms over his bare chest, "do you think you can behave?" Panting though she was Dawn immediately jumped and tried to run. She took but two steps before being betrayed by disheveled and entwining feminine garments sent her sprawling to the floor. "Tsk, tsk, tsk, my pet," Charles grinned evilly as he lifted her by her fiery locks from the deck. Leaning down to look into her terror filled eyes he said coldly, "You will soon learn, my pet." With that, he pulled her to her feet and then threw her fully through the gauze-draped bed that dominated his cabin. Dawn rolled to her back and scrambled to escape, all in vein. Charles was already upon her. He gripped both her sore wrists in one powerful hand as he clamored atop the bed to straddle her belly. Her legs uselessly kicked behind him as he snatched a velvet cord tie to the bed curtain with one hand. Before she knew what was happening first one wrist then the other was pulled by knotted velvet cord. Her arms were stretched, each in turn pulled to opposite head posters of the luxurious bed, secured by tight knots both on their moorings and her rope sore joints. She clenched her tear leaking eyes when the weight suddenly removed itself from her midsection. Charles smiled for a moment at the side of the bed. Then he slowly pulled another curtain tie from the bed and walked around to the foot of the bed. He dodged with the skill of a master swordsman the clumsy thrust of Dawn's foot. He reposted by seizing the offensive limb and set to tying wide to the foot poster. Then repeated it to her other leg. He stepped back and gazed at his prize; legs spread and lifted high, pulling her reddened ass slightly off the feather mattress. Still, in her helpless state, she was struggling against his knots, digging the velvet cords into her soft flesh. Smiling broadly Charles spoke in a mocking tone, "Now that is a sight a blind man would pay to see, pet. You almost look perfect, luv, almost," he let his voice trail away as he turned to his desk. "You bastard!" Dawn screamed in response. Charles laughed as he pulled a curved bladed dagger from a drawer; he turned to face her and held the blade before his captive's wide staring eyes. Dawn gasped upon seeing the blade, "Now you have done it, you daft fool," she thought to herself. She was certain that she was to be murdered; she began muttering a prayer and snapped her eyes shut certain that she was breathing her last. She felt Charles weight upon the bed, and swallowed in fear. Then she felt a strange sensation of coolness gliding across her bosom. "Don't move, pet, I would hate to cut your flesh." Charles instructed quietly as he slid the blade between her breasts. She could hear the linens popping and parting before the razor edged blade that slid like a serpent across her chest. Dipping down over her stomach. Her skin felt like it was ablaze with cool fire from the cold steel gliding over it. It was all she could do to remember to breathe in shallow, halting breaths. Her head was awash in a tide of sensations she could not begin to comprehend. As Charles shaved the petticoats from her inner thighs with expert strokes of the blade, she felt a heat rising from her very soul. She did not dare move, nor did she dare not to move. She was paralyzed by feel of the knife on her flesh. Charles stood up and smiled down at his jewel like a wolf eyeing a straggling calf. He set the blade down on a small table and crushed his lips to Dawn's. Dawn tried to struggle but the wave of sensations that was assaulting her mind slowed her reactions and weakened her resolve as his tongue stabbed into her mouth, as if on a voyage of discovery. Her body was aching and afire as Charles assaulted her with a long deep kiss. He broke the embrace suddenly and rose, then as she gasped helplessly from the bed he grinned for a moment then with lightening movements tore the shredded rags of her clothes from her body. "Now, m'jewel," Charles said, his words dripping with need, "you look polished and cut, perfect, my pet." His eyes dancing over her revealed breasts, nipples like rosy diamonds upon perfect globes. His handprints still visible on the shapely curve of her cheek, hovering above the mattress. The fiery curl of her down lifted for his eyes to devour by her tethered legs, their inner recess glistened with her own uncontrollable responses to his ministrations. Dawn was overcome with shame at her body's betrayal of her hatred, but when she heard his words, she could only moan in dual frustration. Charles sat on the edge of the bed and gently stroked her tearstained cheek. Without a word, he began to let his fingers trail down her neck to land upon the rise of her breast which he gripped full in a powerful hand and squeezed, rolling her nipple between thumb and forefinger. Dawn arched herself to his touch despite herself and tensed in the ropes. Charles leered down at her with a roguish grin as he removed his hand from her, pulling her nipple in his wake. The he pulled off his boots and cast them to the deck. Then he covered her body, his lips locking around her other nipple, his tongue fencing with the erect bud as he inhaled it past tight teeth. While he assaulted her breast with his mouth, he fumbled beneath with his belt. Releasing the buckle, he forced his breeches down finally freeing his throbbing member. Charles gasped with relief against her breast as he kicked his restrictive garment to the floor. Dawn gasped as Charles pulled his lips from her breast and rose to his full height beside her. Her eyes widened with an odd mixture of fear, lust, and intrigue at her first sight of his swollen member. She had her eyes locked upon it as he rounded the bed and slowly slid between her legs. "Now my pet, I am sure you will not disappoint me, aye." Charles asked as he knelt between her suspended thighs, his cock teasingly tracing over her swollen, moist lips. Dawn turned her face away and moaned in desperation as she felt his pulse through his head that pressed hard to her swollen bud of desire. "What was that, pet? Is there something you need?" Charles asked mocking her emotions. Dawn's head shot back, her gray-green eyes glossy with lust, she intended to spit in his face, but her words shocked her as they escaped her lips, "Take me, end this torment, have me," Even as she hoarsely begged to be fucked, she arched herself to his large sword. Charles responded by driving himself hard into her heated sheath, splitting her apart, ripping away the last shreds of her dignity, and bursting her innocence with one powerful thrust. Dawn screamed in pain as she was split by the merciless cock that slammed home into her tightness. Her head swam with shock of pain as she was forced to adapt to the thick pulsing blade that had cut her maidenhead low. The walls of her pussy clenched in both pain and lust to the intruder of her flesh. As he held himself, buried to the hilt her body slowly expanded to accommodate his commanding presence that was at once searing and urging her all to weak flesh. Suddenly she felt a flood of sensation wash over her and she began straining in her bonds against him, to him. She threw her head back and screamed in both triumph and defeat, "UHUUUHHHHHAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHEEEEIIIIIII!!!!" Charles held himself to her until she exploded over his cock, her scream was like a chorus of angels to his ears, and he began to renew his thrusts. Plunging in to her newly awakened garden of delights, pulling back until the head of his cock was within her starving lips, and then driving her home once more, he watched with a grin as she bucked on her ropes beneath his gaze. She was struggling with her bonds, not to escape, but to get at his cock in a new desperation. Charles pummeled and plundered her treasure; savoring every delicacy, her tight pussy could offer his raging cock. She screamed again as her body clenched of its own accord, as if trying to swallow him whole within her. Slamming her hard to the mattress with one great lunge Charles fired his volley deep into her greedy womb. Holding himself within her, he lowered his lips to hers and locked them into a long deep kiss. There they swung on her ropes as the Raven rolled across the waves that danced just beyond the window. Charles rolled off her, and looked at her flushed face. Lifting an eyebrow, he remarked softly, "You have the hair of the fires of dawn, and the eyes of a misty sea morn'; well pet, I shall call you, Misty, Misty Dawn." He winked at her and added, "That is so long as you do not disappoint me." "Nay, nay," Dawn coughed, "Misty Dawn will not disappoint you, Captain, uh..." She trailed off as her heart leapt to her throat. "Captain Charles, will suffice, pet," Charles smiled as he cupped her breast and drew her lips to his once again, pulling her against the velvet bindings. Misty Dawn & The Raven Ch. 3 Dawn woke after having fallen asleep with Charles at her side. The first sensation she noticed was an ache that permeated her core. As she pulled an arm towards the ache in her body, she felt the soft burning reminder of her being trussed up like a mainsail. Her gray-green eyes first focused upon the red roughing of her wrists in the lantern's flickering glow. Rubbing her wrists, forcing blood back into her slightly tingled fingers she sat up on in the bed and peered out at the cabin through the lace of the bed curtains. As she stood on unsteady legs, she first realized that she had nothing on. Her cheeks flamed and her arms flung themselves over her breasts in an appeal to modesty. A nervous glance around the cabin revealed that she was alone, that momentarily comforted her. Then her eyes fell upon the pile of rags that had been her clothes. The memory of what had happened to her came flooding back and she sank down on the large bed. "What has become of me?" she asked herself softly. Her mind was grappling with the memories of her rape and her complete capitulation to it. Had she actually enjoyed it? Yes. She actually had wanted it, and more! Dawn burst into tears and flung herself at a satin pillow, burying her face in it. Her fingers welled into fists and she pounded the pillows in her futility. As her mind raced and her fist flew, one and slipped beneath the thick layer of pillows, she felt something hard and cold. Lifting her face, her fingers drew out a heavy pistol. Her eyes flickered across the weapon. Its weight seemed to grow as she held it in her hand, regarding it. Somewhere in the depths of her mind, the last bastion of her dignity was lobbying her soul for the swift release of death. The cold black gun began to grow heavy and hot as she held it. She found herself holding it with both hands as the subconscious debate raged in the halls of her mind. A slender finger slid like a snake on a branch, coiling around the trigger. The undulating muzzle stared her straight in the face for several moments. Her tears dried up, and suddenly the gun was flung back onto he pillow from which it had come. "No," Dawn whispered to herself in the dark, "if it is my fate and life to live, be it heaven or hell, I will not give my soul up. Not for Charles, nay, not for any man!" she cursed the pistol and backed off the bed. She stood proudly, her back erect, as she backed off in defiance shaking her crimson locks over her creamy shoulders. Somewhere in the depths of her mind she had accepted that she had enjoyed if not desired, what had happened to her and she grudgingly desired more. Her life was all she had left to lose and she would not fold with the cards on the table. Besides, whatever happened from this day forward was to be an adventure that her old life would never have allowed. The Dawn of old was destined for a life of service to an old hag; she had no prospects to have known men. Not real men anyway. Her prospects of ever finding anyone above the station of a gardener were no greater than being struck by lightening. At this moment, at least, she had the attentions of a king, sovereign over whatever he wished, and possibly richer than many an honest man. The old Dawn had died, and now a new and wonderful, Misty Dawn, had risen from her own ashes to seek an unknown destiny. She threw her head back in a small quiet laugh of triumph. Just then the cabin door flew open, Dawn spun round, remembering her nudity, vainly trying to cover herself. "Nay, lass," Charles sneered as he strode in, leaving the door wide behind him, "never cover the treasures which are mine from these eyes." He ordered as he pulled her arms aside. Dawn turned and lowered her head as he bared her by putting her limbs to her sides gently with his powerful hands. Charles smiled at her for a moment, she looked more desirable to his eyes every time he looked at her, and he mused to himself. Charles gently lifted her chin with two fingers as he leaned into her lips with a kiss of deep passion. Dawn at first stood still as his lips fell upon hers. Then as his tongue demanded entry she parted her lips and all but inhaled his tongue. Her arms found themselves, in a scarce heart beat, tight about his neck, her fingers toying with his thick blonde curls. Charles arms slowly wrapped their way around her thin waist, his fingers trailing over the soft skin of her hips to the small of her back as his tongue darted amidst her mouth. Fazul stepped through the open doorway, his dark eyes widening as he watched Charles lift his jewel off the deck by her small waist, their lips locked as if they had not seen one another in months. He forced the wrinkling from his brow and straightened himself to his full height. Before he could speak, however, Mr. Starkly and old master Robbins pushed through the portal behind him. Starkly smiled a lusty smile and wetted his sun baked lips. The grayed Robbins grinned a near toothless grin and ran a gnarled hand over his scalp cropped white hair as he boisterously blurted in his usual half stupor, "Me cap'n, what a pearl ye plucked wit' dat tart, eh?" The sound sent a shiver through Dawn's soul, just as a fire had began to kindle deep within her being. Desperately she kicked her legs to find her footing on the deck. Her arms that had been sensuously wrapping 'round Charles neck were now trying to push his bulk away from her. Charles dropped her suddenly Dawn fought her weakened legs for control as she wavered on the deck. Charles spun on his black-heeled boots to face his shipmates, a half smile at his lips. "And Robbins, what of it?" He spat with a half amused, half annoyed tone. Robbins stared past his captain, his ancient brown eyes twinkling with dark lust as they locked, like a steely trap upon the unsteady parting of Dawn's thighs, transfixed. Starkly lowered his gaze somewhat, only peering out of the corner of his eye at the unfurled bounty that dominated the cabin. Fazul tried to salvage the situation as best he could, grabbing both men by the shoulders and with a bow of his head, "Forgive the intrusion, Sultan, we will leave you to peace," the giant of a man said softly as he took half a step in retreat through the door. "Nonsense!" Charles barked, halting the trio at the doorframe. "You will dine with me tonight, gentlemen," Charles said with a smile. "Misty Dawn, will serve us, if Fazul, you would be so kind as to show her the way to the galley." Fazul fought back a frown and bowed deeply, "As you wish, Sultan." Charles gently took Dawn's wrist in his grasp and led her to the hulking man, whispering quickly in her ear, "No man on this ship would dare steal from me, now show me that pride that burns within you." Dawn was at once terrified and filled with rage, but she was in shock once again, as she took the large moor's open hand and followed him out the door and onto the deck passing under the flaming eyes of Robbins and Starkly. Robbins raised a withered hand as her creamy ass passed him, then feeling Charles eyes searing the flesh at the back of his neck coiled them into a fist and turned away from her filling his stubble surrounded lips with the neck of a rum bottle as Starkly slowly closed the door. * * * * * Dawn followed the hulking moor across the deck. The night wind was cool beneath the stars and bit her nipples to hardness. She had no sooner taken three steps than hooting whistles broke out from all sides. In her heart a fire ignited and she threw her shoulders straight. She kept her head low to avoid seeing the leering eyes of Charles' cutthroats, but she walked with all the dignity of a queen, erect and proud, her small hands clenching and unclenching into fists. Strangely, she felt so alive in her exposure, what should have been shame and humiliation was forged under the stars into pride in her beauty. By the time she reached the steps leading beneath the decks, she was feeling like a goddess. Dawn felt the flame within her soul burning out of control, the cool sea breeze lapping at her most feminine flesh, stirring it into a frenzy that she could not, no would not control. She forced herself to not think about what was happening to her and to just accept it, "Well," she whispered to herself as she placed her first dainty foot on the top stair, "if I am to be damned for my lustful pride, I be damned." Fazul had to stoop to avoid hitting his tattooed head upon the timbers as he led her to a small doorway. She could feel the heat of fires before his massive hand pulled back the door. The room was full of light from the stove fires, and the heat washed over her chilled flesh like a wave on a beach. Dawn lifted her eyes and the sight before her stunned her gray-green eyes. Bent over a glowing stove was a tall thin man with a huge circle of gold in one ear lobe. His skin was as dark as fine rum. He was stripped to the waist and was stirring a large kettle of what smelt like beef stew. He wore only an apron, splattered with grease and the stains of the kitchen. The apron was tented in front of him in a peculiar way, and there was a garbled gasping sound from its depths. The man turned upon hearing the door open and seeing the look of curiosity on Dawn's face, he pulled the apron aside. Beneath the apron was Lady Catherine, stripped nude with tears streaming down her cheeks. She was on her knees with her ankles bound behind her, her bony ass dangerously close to the glowing belly of the stove and reddening from its heat. Her wrists were bound before her and her hands were furiously working a small brush over the floor. However, the most intriguing aspect of her pitiful state was the long dark penis that was sticking half way out of her lips. "If she 'ould suck bett'r she 'ouldn't need to swab up so much, eh?" The black cook grinned as he recovered her with his apron. Dawn, almost smiled at him, Lady Catherine, sucking the penis of an African buccaneer while scrubbing the decks at his feet was overwhelmingly amusing to Dawn. Fazul asked the man about the Captain's supper, ignoring the spectacle. Dawn only continued to watch the pumping of the apron. Her eyes drifted over the curve of the black man's ass in her curiosity. Fazul broke her musings with his soft words, "Sultan's Girl," he began, "here is the meal and the finery for the Sultan. Please be careful while you are carrying it, he does get angry if things are spilt or spoiled before they reach his lips." His words puzzled Dawn for a moment as she was distracted, but upon seeing the large silver tray laden with filled plates of solid gold and crystal goblets off the end of Fazul's finger her mouth dropped. Fazul frowned, "Sultan's Girl, the Sultan was very specific, you are to serve the meal. Your master does not take failure in duty well." The warning sunk in, Dawn glanced once more at the bobbing apron and nodded. Gingerly she hoisted the large tray and turned to the door. Fazul held it open to her and smiled. As she was stepping out, she felt a hand on her rear. The goblets teetered briefly, then she heard Fazul bellow in his melodious tongue of his birth just before she heard his massive fist land upon an unsuspecting jaw. There were a few heated words and the door shut behind her. Somehow, that warmed her a bit and she placed her foot upon the first steep, roughhewn stair. By the time she reached the deck and the new wave of howling cutthroats, her arms burned with the strain of the tray and its balance. The fresh calls somehow strengthened her and she took a bold stride. Fazul was following her at a distance. He marveled at how proud her stride was. It was as if the audience gave her perfection. The more their words and whistles boomed the more sure her steps and footing. These Irish are a proud people, Fazul smiled inwardly; she would not allow anyone to see her fail. She seemed unsure of herself, but would not show defeat to anyone. No wonder the Sultan desired her so. Fazul raced to reach the door before she did and politely knocked. He smiled at her, like a father would a small child who had taken its first steps while they waited for the laughter from the cabin to die down and the invitation to enter. Charles' voice gave it, "Enter, Fazul," he ordered with a laugh. Fazul opened the door slowly and motioned Dawn to enter. She nodded quietly and stepped slowly into the cabin. The three men were seated around Charles' ornate desk, which would not have looked out of place in a Spanish governor's office. Dawn quietly stepped to the desk and squeezed between Starkly and Robbins' shoulders to set the tray down. Charles inspected the tray with a serious eye for a long moment in heavy silence, a forefinger crossing his lips as he thought. "Well, pet," he began coolly, "not bad for a first attempt. But it would appear that you have spilt a few drops of master Robbins' wine." Turning to look deep into her eyes, he continued, "Clean it up." Dawn's face fell and flushed she glanced around quickly, searching for a rag somewhere, but could see none, then she felt Charles' fingers locking upon her chin and pulling her eyes to his, "Lick it up!" He snarled coldly. Dawn blinked, her lips half pursed then she straightened her back and leaned far over the desk. Her breasts swinging low, brushing some rolled charts with her wind swept nipples. Lifting herself onto her toes, to further her reach, her ass rising wonderfully behind her as she held her arms tight to her sides, she parted her lips and lapped the silver tray with a slow moving tongue. The wine and the silver sparked upon her tongue. She felt the burning eyes of the sailors, charting every inch of her flesh. Dawn could not believe the intensity of the moment, every fiber of her being was inflamed, and she feared she would melt. Her tongue began to dart quicker, flicking circles around the crystal stem of the goblet. It was as if she had never tasted wine, it was as if she was dying of thirst, and it was so much more she could not begin to comprehend. Charles swept Starkly and Robbins' face with his piercing eyes as they devoured her display and cocked a half smile to himself. "Thank you, my pet," he breathed heavily finally and sat back into his chair. He waved to Fazul who took his own seat in the last remaining chair. Dawn stood by dumbfounded suddenly noticing the ache of starvation in her stomach as each of the men pulled a plate form the ornate tray. Her heart sank, there were but four. "Come, m'pet," Charles cooed, "sit beside me." he motioned to the floor. She nodded sullenly and sat on her legs by his chair. Charles fingers found their way slowly to her hair, which they stroked lovingly. After pushing a few pieces of pork into his mouth, he stopped and looked down at her then offered her a piece of meat with two fingers. Dawn hesitated but a heart beat, then she literally sucked the morsel from his fingertips. Her tongue lapping at his fingers as her lips closed around them. Therefore, it went on. She would wait patiently while Charles and the men ate slowly and talked of things nautical and criminal, much that she did not understand, and some that she wished she had not heard. Charles would pause and offer her a bite of potato, a cooked carrot, a sip of wine. It was maddening. When the men were finished they all leaned back in their chairs and poured large flagons of rum. Fazul belched his approval, to which Charles smiled. The conversation began again. Dawn looked over the plates of food and her mouth watered at the remnants of food that still hid gold on the tray. Charles noticed Dawn looking over the food. He smiled broadly as he reclined further and asked, "Pet, are you still hungry?" Dawn flushed and turned to him hesitantly, "Y-yes, Captain Charles, I am still hungry." Charles' fingers locked behind his head and he pushed his chair back further still, "Well that will not do child. Show me how hungry you are." Dawn was dumbfounded. Panic began to rise in her throat when her eyes landed upon the growing bulge in his breeches. Her eyes narrowed and she scrambled between his legs. Her fingers fought a desperate struggle with the large buckle of his belt. Releasing that Dawn tugged and tugged his breeches down. Robbins began banging his flagon on the desk and slurring lewd comments behind her, but she did not care. Finally pulling his breeches down his thighs, Charles' cutlass sprang high before her eyes. Dawn wetted her lips with her tongue, as she looked at it in the soft glow of the lamplight. Then like a lioness lunging at her prey she covered it with her mouth and tried to force it down her throat. Her tongue began to trace long the flooded veins of his lust. Her teeth grazed over his skin. She bobbed her head, burying herself into his dark nether hair, filling her nostrils with his heady masculine scent. The men watched with glee as her enthusiastic cheeks filled and collapsed surrounding his shaft. Charles began to lift his hips to fill her mouth more fully. Starkey's eyes were wide and staring as he stood from his chair for a better perspective of the spectacle. Robbins was making strange gasping noises and banging his flagon on the desk in time with her bobs with one hand while the other had slipped beneath his own belt. Fazul hid a frown in his flagon and lowered his eyes. Dawn rolled her tongue around Charles' engorged head, feeling every contour of his heated flesh. Her fingers found their way to his purse and she began to massage it softly as her lips held their tight grip n his shaft. Her fingers matched the rhythm of her head as she lowered and rose herself. Pulling his rigid cock deep to her throat then sliding it to where only the head was snared in her mouth. Charles savored Dawns mouth and held himself back to enjoy the moment. The combination of her hand and mouth was causing his seed to press and boil. He began to pump her lips in earnest and placed his hands on her head. His fingers tightened upon her red curls. Dawn felt his cock leap in her mouth as his fingers held her tight to his groin. She intensified her efforts, her tongue felt the first heat drops leak form his tiny slit. The flavor was salty like the sea air that had blown him into her life. She plunged herself hard upon his cock, sucking desperately, pleadingly. Her ears were ringing with a mixture of noises that she could not comprehend. There was Charles gasping and growling in approval. The hideous Robbins was gasping and wheezing, though his flagon stopped its pounding. There was the rush of blood in her ears that coursed her veins like flames of the fire that burned in her depths. There was the sound of heavy breaths near to her right as Starkly watched and panted with lust. All this she ignored and pressed herself on, as if she was devouring the last morsel of food on the entire earth. Charles thrust deep into her mouth and held her head tight beneath his powerful fingers. Dawn felt her throat fill with the hot eruption of his lust, firing like cannon shot into her mouth and throat, bathing her mouth with his taste. She coughed around his cock and moaned as her body trembled itself from deep within, her hurried tongue shot round gathering all his nectar from his flesh. Charles gasped and slowly pulled his hungry pets lips from his emptied shaft. "Very good," he beamed, "very good my pet." Pulling her onto his lap, his fingers sliding across her skin, to dip into her heated down, sliding over her heated lips, he pulled his finger up and his tongue savored her juices, "Aye, lass, it would seem you were hungry indeed." He teased. With a gesture of his hand, "Please eat your fill my sweet," Charles smiled softly to Dawn who was still trembling from his touch and the fires that shook her frame from within. As she turned to the table her tongue circled her lips cleaning up the last drops of his escaped release before she picked up Charles fork and stabbed a piece of pork. Misty Dawn & The Raven Ch. 3 "That will do, gentlemen, and Robbins," Charles finished with a hiss and a dark glare at the panting old pirate. Fazul was the first to stand and he all but pulled Robbins from his chair. The man's disheveled trousers bore a dark stain as the giant man pulled him to his feet. Starkey's eyes were wide and wild, he had to force himself to turn and storm from the room. Fazul bowed slightly and drug the drunk old lecher from the cabin and shut the door quietly behind the men. * * * * * Starkly stomped across the deck, a shaking hand pulled his dirty blue scarf from his head, he grabbed the first passing sailor by the scruff of the neck, "Where is the hag?" He hoarsely asked the startled cutthroat. The man simply shrugged his ignorance and was thrown aside as Starkly fumed off in search of his own release. His heart was racing, and he could feel the sweat running cold down his neck. The pressure in his loins was like an unbearable weight upon his body. He needed a receptacle and he was determined to tear the Raven apart if need be. Misty Dawn & The Raven Ch. 4 Starkly threw back the door that lead to the bunks of the crew. The hag was there bent over a battered sea chest. Her wrists were bound behind her back and two seamen were pummeling her fore and aft like a child's seesaw. One would slam into her pussy and drive her gaping mouth onto the shaft of the other sailor. The woman looked wretched in distress as her noble flesh was ground over the cracked and splintered wood and raised rivets of the chest. Starkly grinned leeringly as he slammed the door shut behind him. His lust further inflamed he began tearing at his clothes. The sailor at her mouth grunted as he blasted her mouth with his semen. Sinking back from her coughing and gagging mouth he looked up at Starkly, "Nuttun' finer, Mr. Starkly, than a high b'rn tart," the man gasped to his shipmate. The man buried in her pussy ignored the entrance of his partner in crime and dug his calloused fingers into her bony hips as he rammed her overworked snatch with rapid strokes. The man who sank continued, "Care for a taste, yerse'f, Mr. Starkly?" Starkly simply pushed his way to the man who was still plundering the poor woman's treasures. Starkly barked in a hoarse rasp, "Stand aside Mr. Fox." The man rammed his manhood deep into the woman and forced her to moan in pain, before looking up, "Not just yet, sir," he retorted holding his rod fully into the woman. Starkly slammed the man hard on the shoulder and forcefully spun him from his enjoyment. Lady Catherine shrieked as result and clenched her eyes tight shut, trembling in fear. The dislodged man narrowed his eyes and spat, with his yet unloaded barrel glistening in the candle light and throbbing with anger and lust, "Beggin' yer pardon, Mr. Starkly, but wait yer turn." Starkly flashed a hand behind his back and drew out a thick bladed knife from his loosened belt. The sailor staggered backward fumbling for his own discarded weapon. The spent man scrambled for the doorway. "I be getting my cut of this trollop now, Mr. Fox!" Starkly spat as he bared his weapon to Lady Catherine's displayed entrances. Fox sprawled back scurrying along the floor of the stuffy bunk castle. His eyes burning with rage and venom, as he watched, Starkly laid his knife flat across the back of Lady Catherine. He took her ass cheeks and pulled them roughly wide with both hands. The throbbing tip of his desire pressed hard against her tiny ring. Lady Catherine shrilly shrieked in a new terror, her legs limply kicked in resistance. Fox's hand fumbled on the discarded items beneath a bunk as he watched Starkly grit his teeth and press the head of his straining cock into Catherine's ass. Catherine shrieked and howled in pain as her body fought hard against this new invasion. Fox's fingers closed over the butt of a pistol that he drew forward in the dark. Starkly closed his eyes as, through brute forced, he ram into the bowels of the hapless Lady Catherine with slow determination of a man possessed of his desire and in possession of his release. Catherine screamed as she was pressed, stretched, and filled like a street prostitute on a tavern floor. Something inside her was breaking, as her multitude of abuse was reaching virgin territory she had never imagined. It was as if she was almost reaching a plateau of peace in her captivity, just as her ass was being torn asunder by the throbbing invader stabbing her to the hilt. Starkly pulled back and ran his blade deep into Catherine's searing flesh. It gripped and tugged, fought and pulled encouraging his burning seed. He battered her red cheeks with his grimy hips, grinding his pelvis against her ass, callously. He could feel the pressure building deep within his balls he drew back for another thrust, not hearing the metallic click from across the floor. In one final lunge, he buried himself deep into her ass as the cabin erupted in an exploding cloud of sulfur. Fox watched over the end of the smoking pistol as Starkly's head erupted and jerked violently. Catherine felt the explosion of hot liquid bathing her bowels as the twitching cock was ripped from her ass by the force of the pistol shot. The two shots, of life and death, their triggers having been pulled in the exact same instant. Starkey's body sprawled to the deck, ripped from the heaven of Catherine's sweet ass, and falling lifeless to the deck like a bloodied rag. Catherine shrieked and screamed as she stared into the dead man's eyes, wide open. His face was streaked with his own blood that coursed over his lips parted in a silent, frozen grunt of satisfaction. The door burst open and there was the Captain, flanked by his hulking moor, the man she had been forced to service babbling uselessly behind them in the stairwell. Fox's face went pale as a gravestone when he looked upon his captain and he tried to scurry farther back, hitting his shoulders on the lowest bunk, dropping the still smoking pistol, as his hitherto enflamed manhood shrunk in his own cowardice. Charles' icy eyes flashed over the cabin, summarizing the tragedy that had just played out. "Fazul, seize him!" Charles ordered as he stepped into the room and pulled Catherine's aching body to her feet by a bound arm. Fox held his hands up like a useless woman in defense, as he crouched before Fazul's bulk, "Fazul, F-f-az-ul," he sputtered in terror, "it- it was not my fault. He would not wait his turn... he- he pulled a knife. Fazzullll---" Fox trailed off with a shriek as he was drug from the room on his back and up the stairs. The giant man's fist locked like a bear-trap around his genitals, dragging him off to his fate. Charles looked directly into Catherine's eyes. She was not completely homely, but she was no striking beauty either. However, her use by his men had given her a look of complete shock and pain. She had never had such treatment and her body was paying a price for its neglect to this point. Her middle-aged face was streaked with tears and dried male issue; blue and violet shades on her cheeks demonstrated blows from early on in her resistance. Her thighs were weak and caked with fluids, as she had seen little peace since the crew had taken her as an amusement. Catherine was still screaming as he pulled her from the chest and she watched fearfully as his eyes slowly trailed over her body. She took a halting deep breath certain that this man was to be the next to have her, his head shrouded with long blonde curls, as his piercing eyes of ice burned her flesh. Then he spoke to her, his tone was mocking, yet soft, "Well, well, mi'tart," he grinned, "it would seem you have already became a distraction to my men. A slut for but one full day and night and you have men ready to kill over your charms, I must say I am impressed." Catherine cast her eyes down; a shameful wash flooded her cheeks. She was filled with rage, but too weak and fearful to speak. Her wrists, still bound, were only part of the reason she did not strike this gallant rake for his haughtiness. Her battered and over stunned mind was slipping. She had never known such pain and physical insult as she had learned in the last few hours. She had fought at first, but as the brutes had ravaged her flesh, something had been jarred to the surface in her soul. Something that had been lost, or smothered, lying dormant likes a leviathan on the ocean floor, lumbering for years of her married life. Something she had never known was there, but now was feeling it slither through her soul. A demon that desired her own destruction was whispering to the ear of her soul and she was transfixed, helpless to her own slowly smoldering, deflowering. Catherine's head swam and she sank in his arms, exhaustion catching the better of her. Charles pulled her slumping from the cabin and hauled her on to the deck. The crescent moon leered down on the deck and most hands were already present. Fazul had Fox strung up; his wrists were pulled high and wide to the rigging, stretched tight as a bow from the ropes. His ankles were like wise bound and stretched. Fox's nude body shone in the starlight, the sweat of pain and fear reflecting the glow of the moon. Charles boldly strode to the deck, dragging the hapless Lady Catherine with him. He stopped as he drew along side Fazul, and regarded the prisoner strung before him. Thrusting Catherine towards Fazul, "Tie the wench up as well!" Fazul caught Catherine he flashed Charles an inquisitive look, but simply nodded, "As you wish, Sultan." Charles turned to the crowd, "Roust all hands!" He bellowed. A murmur and flurry of activity swept the deck, grabbing a young sailor by the striped and dirty shirt, he spun the man around, "Go fetch my jewel as well, she needs to witness what happens when transgressions are made," roughly shoving the man towards his cabin he turned back to watch as Catherine was tied up and spread wide as Fox, the fingers of her right and his left hand nearly touching as Fazul finished the securing of the pair. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Dawn had been frightened ever since she heard the distance thump that sent Charles leaping from the cabin. She heard the flurry of motion about the deck outside but had feared to open the door and observe. She sat on the edge of Charles' desk fidgeting her fingers nervously. Something was up but she was fearful of investigating. The shouts of some men and hushed tones of others made her less assured of herself. She wondered if she should stay, she wondered if she should go out. Unsure of herself she bit her lower lip and crept near the door, she tossed her red curls aside and pressed her ear to the door. She heard Charles voice over the din of sea and sailors murmurings. He was ordering someone to be tied up. She drew back from the door and backed away slowly. What was going on? A chill shot down her spine as she backed until her thighs stopped at the desk's edge. He arms wrapped around her naked body, partially covering her breasts from the chill of fear that was coursing through her veins. Her gray-green eyes locked upon the gold dolphin of the door handle as it dropped signifying that someone was pressing for entry. Her heart leapt into her throat. She leaned back over the desk as the door opened quickly and a young sailor with a cutlass pushed inside. His eyes flashed over her flesh for a moment before he lowered his gaze, and she almost laughed as this young cutthroat lowered his eyes to the floor and asked hesitantly, "The c-cap'n, wishes your presence on deck." Dawn smiled, despite her fear she lowered her arms and walked boldly to the young man, "Of course," she said with an air of confidence that she had not experienced before in her life. It was a powerful intoxicant to have a young and lusty criminal fear to look at your naked form. To know that she was the captain of rogues' personal pet and somehow that made her feel regal in her exposure. She pushed past the sailor and took a deep breath of fresh night air as she stepped out under the sky. The young man through the parting crowd of Charles' crew led Dawn. As the last few men cleared for her path, she took a sharp breath and the chill ran down her spine once again. Lady Catherine was tied like an 'X', as was a pirate next to her. The crew had formed another ring around them and there was Charles, he had removed his shirt and the muscles were rippling in the moonlight, with his long golden hair wafting in the sea wind over his broad shoulders. His ever-present hulking shadow, Fazul was approaching Charles form the left carrying a small iron box. Fazul set the box on the deck at Charles feet and bowed. Just then, two men drug the gangly body of the late Mr. Starkly above deck. The sight gave Dawn cause to bring a hand to her lips, in an attempt to stifle the sharp, and audible gasp at the gruesome scene. Charles turned his eyes dark and menacing as he turned to face her. The chill reverberated through her core as he looked at her with murder in his gaze. "Ah, m'pet," Charles said loudly enough for all to hear, "I wanted you to see this. Take it as a lesson about rules on this ship." Turning his gaze from her as he circled speaking to the crowd, "And that goes for all of you lot! You all know the rules. We here are brothers of Lucifer; we all take a measure of our shares. No man hides from another, no man disputes another's claim. AND!" He shouted raising a accusing finger high and pointing it as if it were as lethal as a pistol towards the back of Fox's head, "...And no man kills another of our brethren for common loot, on this ship!" A murmur ran through the flock of pirates as they looked on while Charles continued. "Mr. Fox and Mr. Starkly seemed to have had a disagreement over their dispensation of this insignificant trifle," Charles pulled a lock of Catherine's hair hard and rubbed it between two fingers for all to see. Catherine's head jerked back and she began to weep as he rolled her hair in his grasp. Releasing Catherine's hair he turned to the throng once more and asked the crowd, "Do any of you think this is unfair to met out punishment for the death of our late shipmate?" Again, a murmur and all eyes were downcast. "IF any of you think that this is unreasonable, step forward now and take up your sword. We can settle my right to judge on my decks as gentlemen, if you've the steel." He paced round looking as many as he could in the face, all turned away, knowing that no one could expect to live by raising a blade in Fox's defense. Charles stopped and ran his fingers through his hair, pulling his locks from his face. "Good, as to that matter we can proceed. Fazul, give Mr. Starkly his due," Charles only nodded to the corpse behind him on the deck. Fazul bowed and with the help of another man lifted the body from the deck and carried it to the gunnels and simply heaved it over the side. Mr. Starkey's body splashed in the wake of the Raven and drifted bobbing behind the ship, in route to Davy Jones, like all pirates of untimely ends. Charles placed his hands on his hips and addressed the crew, "Should this booty prove a point of contention on these decks it will, as past items of quarrels are thrown over the side. The sea can have its share of her treasures if we cannot all abide by the laws of these decks. IS THAT UNDERSTOOD!?!" Charles bellowed. Catherine felt her heart leap into her throat, she was to be cast overboard and drowned. She could not bare it. She could barely swim for god's sake! She was going to die this night! Her body broke into a cold sweat and her pulse raced in her veins beating like the drums on the gallows in her ears. She began to bawl loudly. Hearing the words of Charles and seeing Catherine begin to bawl uncontrollably, Dawn ran across the decks and grasped for one of Charles' powerful arms. She fell to her knees and pleaded, "Captain, please," her voice choked with fear but she could not see to having this woman thrown to the waves, she could not think of one reason to want to keep her alive, but she could not meet her maker without trying to gain the leniency of Charles' court. "My captain, please do not kill this woman, I beg of you," Dawn said with halting soft tones her eyes glazing with tears of pity. Charles looked down at her for a long moment before responding, "This woman, this woman who henpecked you from England to the azure Caribbean?" Charles lifted the arm she had grasped for and pointed absently in the direction of the Lady Catherine. As his arm slipped from her grasp, Dawn cast her eyes to the polished planks of the dark deck. She did not look up, she simply whispered, "Yes, that woman." Charles replaced his fists on his hips and continued his inquiry, "Why should I not throw her to the sea?" Dawn's head began to pound in pain and frustration but she threw her head back, raised her gray-green eyes to his blue ones, and stated loudly, "Because I think it would be a waste, to simply throw away a life, my Captain." A single tear of defiance and pity silently dripped down her cheek as she stared at Charles. He looked at her for a long moment, then asked Dawn in long slow words, "My dear," he began and turned his back to her as he continued, "would you put your flesh along side hers, to bear part of her punishment, if I were to not follow the law of this vessel and cast her over the side. Would you before this assembly commit to that?" A loud murmur ran through the gathering of cutthroats as Charles finished and tossed his head a bit clearing a few strands of curls from his face. Dawn's heart leapt, she did not want to die, but she would not be shown a coward before all these leering eyes, she lifted her shoulders and chin, taking a deep breath she said loudly and clearly, "Yes. I will share in any punishment she can take to spare her useless life." Catherine, heard the words and coughed a sigh of relief, but her fear of what the punishment was, was too much to bear. The useless Irish whore was doing a foolish thing to save her, but she at least knew her place as Catherine's servant. Her tears continued to pour from her eyes, but she at least was to be spared her life. Someday she would see that her husband heard of Dawn's heroics and possibly some permanent compensation could be assured the dutiful girl. Charles turned round slowly as the murmur ran its course in the wake of Dawn's words of bravery. He did not speak to Dawn, but to his shipmates," Now I put the question to you, should my prize share in your share's punishment? Put it to the vote!" With that, he turned and leaned on the mast. The crew shuffled and talked amongst themselves for several minutes that felt like hours. Dawn could feel the sea air biting her nipples with its chill, but she remained kneeled and erect, her scarlet locks buffeted in the wind. Her pride fully displayed along with her exposed form as she felt a myriad of eyes flashing across her creamy flesh. She did not care, she was too proud to even allow herself to feel or see the terror that was welling in her breast. The longer the crowd spoke in hushed tones and the rigging creaked eerily, more of that annoying fear built within her; and the more she fought it with her stubborn, fiery pride. Finally one man rose and stepped forward stopping directly behind Dawn, he took off his cap and addressed, Charles, "Cap'n, sir," he began softly, then swallowed and said more forcibly as Charles looked disapprovingly at his tone, "Cap'n, sir, w-we, have decided to see the wenches share the burden of shipboard ju'tiss'." The man nodded his head and many heads nodded in agreement from the shadows of the deck. The man fidgeted with his cap and stepped back slowly. Charles looked over the faces of his crew slowly, trying to catch the eye of everyman to assure this was the verdict. He then clapped his hands twice and Fazul stepped forward quickly pulling Dawn to her feet and dragging her to the yardarm next to Catherine. "You are too brave, Sultan's Girl, too brave," he whispered in her ear as he took her first wrist and pulled it high, lashing it securely to the arm. As he did so, he slipped a small roll of leather into her mouth, "Bite this, Sultan's Girl, it will help you, suck it," he instructed. Dawn's tongue found the object soaked with some bitter, foul tasting liquid but she bit it and tried to keep her tongue from it. Suddenly the ship seemed to pitch more violently than it had, but at a much slower pace. The chill air seemed hot and smooth over her skin, she shook her head as her second leg was pulled wide and lashed to the deck. Fazul finished his work and stepped aside. Dawn thought that a fog had rolled in, but she could have sworn that there was a tear in the giant man's eye as he bowed to her and backed away. Dawn's head was swimming, her stomach felt nauseous. Funny she had never felt seasick before. Another funny thing, was her tongue seemed to be completely numb, like she had fallen asleep on it and it was trying to get blood back to it. She shook her hair off her neck and reveled her body to the hot wind that was caressing her every curve. She had never felt so alive. She rolled the piece of leather about in her mouth, savoring its texture with her dull tongue. Misty Dawn & The Raven Ch. 4 Charles waited until Fazul had reached the shadows before he knelt to the small iron box. He slowly drew open the lid with a metallic creaking noise and reached inside. He slowly and withdrew a few curious items. The first was a miniature manacle attached with a short chain to a round lead weight that fit nicely into his fist. This he held up and one of the crew stepped forward and took it from his hands. The man strode toward the trembling Fox. Fox's eyes darted to the object as the man rounded his shipmate, standing close to him. Fox's eyes pleaded uselessly as the man lowered his hands and took Fox's balls and violently clasped the small manacle around his purse. Fox gnashed his teeth and groaned as the man dropped the weight from his fist. The man turned shaking his head as walked away. Charles had, meanwhile taken two curved and ornately carved lengths of ivory from the box. These he picked up himself and walked up behind both the other prisoners awaiting justice. He held them up between them and let them both look in awe at the items. They looked very much like male members, but the lengths of the shaft had sharp looking ridges and grooves carved in an ornate, spiraling design around the shafts. "Mi sluts," Charles began, "do not think that we are not without mercy here, but since a penalty of death was avoided for one, both must bare a burden during their flogging." With that, he took the ivories and thrust them roughly deep into both women's pried open and exposed pussies. Catherine, threw her head back in a scream and her legs pulled at her bonds, only serving to roll the ridges and grooves about in her depths. She was more shocked that she had remained slick than at any real pain, but almost out of noble compulsion to react, she struggled. Dawn, on the other hand felt the cool shaft drive into her and her body began to sweat and tremble. She bit hard on the leather as her pussy clenched in delight about the shaft. Her body shook in a strange ecstasy and she threw her head back savoring the intruder. Charles strode back to the box and pulled one last item from the box, a long snakelike scourge uncoiled from the box and dripped from Charles firm grip as he turned to the prisoners. "Are you ready, prisoners of the Raven?" He called over the wind. Fox moaned and struggled in obvious pain in response. Catherine screamed, shrieked, and pulled at her bonds. When the words finally reached Dawn's mind from their circuitous course through her ears she threw her head back and shouted, "Yes, yes..." The air was ripped with a loud slice as the scourge bit into Fox's back, leaving a red bite in his flesh. The poor man shriek and bounced at the scourge. The air was split a second time, leaving a crimson stripe upon Dawn's perfect ass. She simply shuddered and flexed her hips from the caress of the leather. A third slice was followed by an ear splitting shriek from Catherine as her thighs were slapped hard. Charles lashed at the prisoners for many minutes before pausing to wipe the sweat from his brow with a meaty forearm, the scourge dangling menacingly as did. He looked at his prisoners. Fox was slumped, his head hanging loose from his shoulders, his back a crosshatch pattern of split skin and stripes of blood. Catherine had long since passed out and she was marked, but not bloodied from calf to lower back. Dawn was trembling her red curls dripping with sweat down her back, murmuring softly to herself and arching her reddened ass towards him. Her creamy thighs striped, her buttocks blazed from the lash; it seemed she could have drifted on until death. Charles began to slowly coil up his long leather instrument, "Cut them down," he gasped. Keeping his eyes on the scourge as he drew it neatly round, "Take Mr. Fox to the hole, since his friend got him in trouble leave it shackled till we make land. Bring the bitches to my cabin." He looked at Fazul who nodded and moved to carry out his master's will. Charles dropped the coiled scourge back into the box and turned to his cabin, his lips pursed in thought as he slowly stepped away, while his shipmates carried out his orders and returned to their posts before his court session. Charles poured himself a flagon of his finest and then poured it fully down his throat. His eyes burned with thought. He was staring into the depths of the empty mug when Fazul entered with an unconscious Catherine and a violently convulsing and moaning Dawn, one in each massive arm. He bowed his head as he spoke, "Sultan, the.., the bitches," he said softly. "Lay them on the bed and tend to them, Fazul," Charles said, tilting his head in a flash to the bed. "Yes, sultan," Fazul bowed as he gingerly lay both of them down on the down filled bed. Charles reached for more rum as Fazul pulled a small vial from his baggy vest and began to massage its glistening contents over their wounds. "Fazul, old friend," Charles began softly. "Yes, Sultan," Fazul responded without looking up. "Fazul, what did you slip my Misty Dawn while you tied her up." Fazul stopped and said nothing. Not sure how to respond. Charles re-corked the bottle and sat back into his chair before he spoke again, "Its alright, she looked like a true mermaid out their making love to the lash before my crew, I just want to know what you gave her." Fazul rose and bowed low to Charles. He only half raised and did not lift his eyes from the floor of the cabin. "Sultan, I gave her something for her pain, something that made everything sensuous to her skin. It only brought to light what was always present in shadow, forgive me Sultan, forgive me." Charles threw his head back and laughed loudly, "Faz--Fazul you old fool," he croaked. "My friend, I forgive you if I must. However, I would rather thank you for your service to my pet this night. She is a tenacious creature, but even the foolish need aid in their time of folly, do they not? Fazul simply bowed deeply and nodded in response before returning to his work. Charles smiled into his rum as he placed his heels on his desk top, returning to his thoughts. Fazul worked for over an hour on his patients. Catherine had not one half the stamina that Dawn possessed, and most of his time was directed at her flesh. As he wiped his massive hands, clean of the oil that now glistened the two bodies on his master's bed, he pulled the two ivory phalluses from their lodgings. They were both coated with feminine nectar and as he began cleaning them the cabin filled with their perfumes. Charles took another heavy drink and cocked his head towards his good friend. "Thank you, my friend," Charles said softly, "thank you." Fazul bowed and without a word, he turned to the door. Charles watched his friend's departure and sat alone in silence for a moment before pulling a large ledger from one of the heavy drawers of the desk. He flipped it open and stabbed a peacock quill into a black inkpot three times before he began to write. After but a few words he turned to look at the two unconscious women lying prone on his bed. He tapped the feather against his chin in thought before returning to redip the pen and setting back to his work in the ledger. Misty Dawn & The Raven Ch. 5 Sunlight bathing Dawn's cheek awoke her. She tried to stretch her limbs, but found it too strenuous for her battered body. Her head was pounding and her eyes seemed under a fog. She tried sitting up, forcing herself to do so, despite the dull pain that ebbed her strength. She rubbed her gray-green eyes with one hand just as the other fell upon a small hand on the bed. She turned, blinking hoping that it was Charles, but as her head slowly cleared she found that she had been lying close with Lady Catherine who was still sleeping, her body, and will exhausted. Dawn looked at her, first in slight surprise; but then for a long moment of pity as she scanned the crimson striping of Lady Catherine's flesh from the lashing Charles had metered out. Dawn softly squeezed her bedmate's thin fingers and brushed some of her dark locks from her cheek with her own fingers. Turning to rise she forced her legs upon the deck. Her legs were sore from their stretching, her skin screaming as her own marks were pulled over her own straining muscles; but stand she did. Dawn felt woozy, but she steadied herself by leaning on the bedposts. Charles was nowhere to be seen and the cabin felt empty. A large silver tray was set on the desk with a variety of fruits and some only slightly molded bread. A pitcher of wine and two small silver goblets sat ready. Suddenly Dawn's hunger spoke through her pain and she staggered on weak limbs to the desk and sat in Charles' chair, plucking a piece of exotic fruit from the tray. Dawn noticed to her delight that Charles, if not all his men, ate far better fare than she had experienced upon her former vessel. The foreign fruit was soft and sweet, its nectar lit her tongue in a remarkable way. Cherries, apples, and such she had tasted before, but the strange treats from Charles' larder were a delicacy. She poured herself a small glass of wine. The cool velvet contours of Charles' ornate chair seemed to mold to her tormented skin as she sat and ate. The food and wine seemed to fill her with a new strength, though she was truly still very weak. Sitting there in the quiet of Charles' cabin she found herself cataloging the injuries to herself. The skin of her back and buttocks flamed against the velvet. The muscles in her legs and arms felt as if they were still pulled taught, and she rubbed her calves just above her ankles softly in thought. Then it struck her, her pussy, her womanhood was stretched pulled and on fire, as if it were lacerated, yet the sensations were sending impulses of exquisite pleasure to her brain. With a half chewed piece of forgotten fruit still in her mouth, she stopped and put aside the half eaten morsel in thought. What had happened to her there? Suddenly her slow mind recovered bits of a white carved instrument, ridged and cut, sculpted and decorated.... Dawn nearly choked as she swallowed the bite in her mouth instinctively and leaned back in the chair. Her thighs parted quickly and she thrust a hand to her hidden spot. Before she knew what she was doing, she had two fingers probing her depths to discover if she was still carrying that oriental treasure in her pouch. Her fingers dove in to her heated slit and, though they found no object, they sent warm washes of sensation firing through her body. Her tortured inner walls ignited to her probing fingers and Dawn's every nerve exploded in a cresting tide of the pain of a finger on a fresh healing wound, and the immense pleasure of her own touch. Dawn drew in a sharp breath, and forced her fingers from her passage, slick with her own fluids of love. She leaned back deeper into the chair as her own lustful fingers began a slow rhythmic dance over her external nub of desire. The lids half closed over her gray-green eyes and she sighed softly at her own touch. Her cheeks filled and puffed with her breath, as the rays of the bright sun reflected from the waves washed over her skin. Her hungry digits turned faster in their chase. Her other hand slowly reached and caressed her breast, pinching her nipple with precise pressure that sent shocks of pleasure through her bosom. A small, but very welcome release shot through Dawn's soul and she gasped softly and sank softly into the chair. She half rolled into a ball in the chair and panted quietly. Her own medicine doing far more good for her mind's recovery than food, drink, or any of Fazul's treatments could. A lazy smile flooded her face as she laid her head on the strong arm of Charles' chair. For the first time in her life, she had strength, power over herself and her own fate. She was drunk on her own power, which she was just beginning to discover for herself. A quiet laugh escaped her lips as her mind mulled over the flush hand that fate had dealt to her. Though it had been but a few days ago, the lifelong woman's maid with no power in the world was gone as surely as if she had died. Now, Dawn was for the time at least a favored treasure of a pirate captain. Hundreds of eyes scanning her revealed flesh, she was sparking lust in the hearts of all the men that literally surrounded her; and that was very powerful indeed. For the first time in her life, she felt truly safe, truly alive. Dawn stopped her musings as she heard a rustle and a quiet groan from the bed. She looked over at the pitiful sight of Lady Catherine as she tried with great difficulty to rise. Dawn watched her, Catherine looked like a ship after a harsh gale, bashed about the rocks and floundering as she cringed at her every attempt to push herself to a sitting position. Catherine had not led a life that led to the development of muscle tissue, nor was she very familiar to physical pain. She tried vainly for the third time and collapsed into the pillows with a slightly muffled sobbing groan. "Damn the English bitch!" Dawn hissed under her breath as she pulled herself from the comforting pushiness of Charles' chair. Dawn could not exactly determine why she actually rose to help Catherine, other than she did not want to listen to the shrill whine that the Englishwoman had fine tuned to a tee. She stepped to the bed and started to lift Catherine from the mattress, "Now, now, milady," Dawn said with forced comfort in her voice, "let me help you, ma'am." "Y-yes, Dawn," Catherine choked out of her dry lips. Dawn refused her usual smile to Catherine's failure to thank her. Dawn was actually cursing herself as she helped the poor woman from the bed and led her to a chair at the desk and offered her some of the fruit. Catherine cringed as Dawn lowered her into the hard wood chair. Catherine hurt too bad to protest what was running through her mind, 'the least the child could have done was put me in the velvet chair, has she lost her mind?' Catherine instead quietly took a piece of fruit and lifted it to her lips. She was acutely aware of every grain of wood in the chair as it pressed against her swollen buttocks and lash licked back. She held herself at a perfect posture, not out of any rigid sense of propriety, but her back would not take the bite of the wood. Therefore, Catherine held her back off the back of the chair. Dawn sat back into Charles chair and reached for the wine. She refilled her goblet before pouring a fresh one for Catherine. She caught, just over the rim of the pitcher, the glance of daggers searing out of Catherine's brown eyes. Dawn lowered her eyes and to cover her slight cracking smile, she turned and looked out the window and commented, "The sea is quite beautiful today, mum," as she raised the goblet to her half smiling lips. This was far too much insolence for Catherine to stomach. She slammed the fruit down hard on the desk, squishing its juice over the ornate surface and soiling the corner of one of Charles' charts. "Do you dare to laugh at me, you little Irish whore!" Catherine shouted in her shrill voice, anger giving her strength and courage that had left her for so long. She was swept away in a rush of venom that she was delivering to Dawn's doorstep. "How dare you, laugh at me. You do not pour for yourself when I am in need of nourishment! Where under God's eye do you place yourself before me?!?" Catherine shouted as she pushed her self erect and leaned over the desk to shout at Dawn's face. "How dare you sit there like the whore of Babylon in your master's chai...." Catherine was cut short as she was spun around violently and her words were finished by a loud slap that sent her sprawling over the chair she had hardly wanted to sit upon. Charles stood looming over her, his arm still outstretched from where it had flung after he slapped her across the jaw. Neither of them had heard him enter like a thunderbolt due to Catherine's tirade. Catherine looked up at him and cowered before him, terror having conquered her rage. Dawn placed a hand over her lips as Charles drug her to her knees by a fist in her hair as his cold blue eyes blazed into Catherine's face. "First, bitch," Charles hissed, "this is my cabin, and you were my guest in your recovery. Since it is my cabin, only I have the right to raise my voice in my sanctuary. Second, you stupid cow, you owe your life to this woman. I suggest you think about that. For on this ship if one owes his life to another; it is a debt that can rarely be repaid. Until it can be the debtor is at the mercy of the lender!" Charles tossed her roughly to the deck before he finished, "Perhaps we should show you, later," he finished with a hiss. Turning to the door he shouted, "Fazul!" Instantly the hulking moor filled the doorframe with his customary head bow. "Fazul, fetch the stocks!" Fazul disappeared with a silent nod, shutting the door quietly behind him. Charles seized Catherine's, still rope sore, wrist in a fist like a manacle and pulled her to the edge of the desk. "I suggest you finish your fruit, milady," Charles said as he forced her mouth to the desk with a hand on the back of her neck. "I do not tolerate stains upon my charts, so I hope for your sake your tongue has some talents." Tears sprang forth from Catherine's eyes as she was forced to lap up the squashed fruit with her mouth to keep from suffocating. Dawn watched with both terror at Charles display of temper, and fear for Catherine. 'Why could she have not been so loud as to call for him?' The stupidity of the nobility never ceased to overwhelm Dawn's peasant senses. Charles flung her back to the deck when she had lapped long enough for him. Dawn looked at her lips, slick with sweet fruit juice and tears. Dawn stepped around the desk and gently put her hand on Charles' tensed forearm. Charles felt the slight hand upon his arm and relaxed from his anger a bit. Taking a long breath, Charles calmed his tone to a more conversational, if cold, tone, "Catherine, you don't seem to realize that all you have is your life, and that is owed to my Misty Dawn here. Your body belongs to my crew, and your brain seems to be lost at sea, milady. I believe it is high time you took stock of your situation." With that Charles turned and kissed Dawn's neck before walking over to lean against the window frame and stare out at the waves as if looking for some answer in the deep blue crests behind the Raven. Dawn was not sure what to do, looking at Catherine's crumpled cringing form in its fetal sprawl on the deck; then glancing over her shoulder towards Charles who seemed lost in angry thought. He looked so handsome, but there was an air of violence and danger about him that all of her upbringing should have warned her to fear him. However, Dawn was lost in a fascination of his danger, somehow that made him even more desirable. Her heart felt pulled in two directions at once, a small part of her was pulling her to kneel and comfort the skinny, whining Catherine. Yet, another, growing part of her heart was pulling her body like a moth to the deadly flame that was Charles. The two sides made war upon one another and her body stood still in the middle of it all, a Dawn stalemate. Catherine looked at Dawn standing there, a flash that could have been hatred or jealousy burned out through tearing blurred brown eyes. The child was helpless to help her. Catherine half thought Dawn was frozen with fear, and half thought that she was bewitched by this sea devil. The mad man's words had cut her to the bone. His tone had hit her harder than the back of his hand; she was truly beginning to grow terrified by the monstrous master of this ship. Part of her wished he would just kill her outright and end her further suffering, but deep in her mind, she knew that he had spared her for a fate far worse. ------------------------------------------------------------- Fazul's bald brow was furrowed in a frown as he picked his way through the hold. Stepping over a well-fed and scurrying rat, he ducked beneath a beam as he reached the area where Charles stowed his example devices. Clearing a few odd bits from its top Fazul plucked the heavy wood and iron piece of restraint from the deck and turned around in the gloom of the hold. Giving it a quick once over, satisfied that the hinges were in good repair and the lock was not frozen, he nodded, then shook his large decorated head and started for the stairs. He paused and muttered to himself as he neared the stairs, "What does Sultan think he is doing? The poor woman could scarcely take another beating and live. To kill her now, o soon after sparing her life would surely upset members of the crew." Fazul sat on a rum barrel and rested his body while his mind toiled away inside his hairless dome. He thought of how ill prepared the woman was for any further beatings. He knew that Charles understood that she needed a few days of rest, no physical harm, nor any penetration, if she was to heal properly for her purpose. Fazul could only shake his head again slowly. Fazul looked over the stocks he had been sent to retrieve. They were large, a man could possibly walk around with their weight around his neck and shoulders, his hands locked in; but the bony fragile woman...never. When she was locked into this, it would be as good as if she were trapped into a full size stocks. There was no chance she could move with this weight surrounding her. Fazul was growing angry with Sultan as he contemplated the stocks. The poor woman would surely die in this devise if he beat her again. Fazul was frustrated, "Why not have just killed her before and spared some of his ointments and time?!?" Fazul growled under his breath as he stood up to climb the stairs. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Robbins had watched Charles and Fazul burst into the captain's cabin at sounds of raised voices. He had heard, though his old ears could not identify what he heard, Charles commanding barks. He had thought he had heard the sounds of a powerful slap. Then he had seen Charles' giant shadow, Fazul the moor, leave the cabin, and head for the hold. He had tried to busy himself with ropes and looked with an experienced eye at the sails, full out in the wind; but he found himself drifting towards Charles' door, his curiosity forcing his feet to move. His mind racing over what was going on behind Charles door. The silence emanating from the door was deafening to Robbins, he licked his cracked lips and wiped a gnarled hand over the back of his neck absently as his imagination went wild. His dirty short-legged trousers begging to bulge like a sail in a stiff gale. He wandered absently past Charles silent door and lurked around the corner of his captain's cabin for a long moment. Slowly climbing the stairs to the stern castle, his old gray haired legs and knobby knees paced him behind the young wheelman in slow but distracted movements. He would have given an arm to see what he was imagining Charles was doing to the two tarts below his feet. Robbins leaned heavily on the polished rail, the sea wind cooling his heated flesh where his imagination was leaking a single drop of his excitement into the cloth of his tented trousers. Robbins shuddered as if from chill, but rather from a wave of lust that was surging through his body as he imagined Charles surging into an eager trollop's twat, the way he burned to do. Robbins shook his head and scratched himself obscenely as is rum sodden mind churned. Feeling himself ready to spill he pulled his hand away and fumbled for the small bottle of rum swelling his hind pocket. Pulling the cork in desperation, he took a huge swill of the rum, tilting his head back high, pressing his groin to the gunnels as he did. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Fazul crossed the deck with purpose to his strides. The stocks set at a comfortable high on his massive shoulder. He watched Robbins pouring more rum down his throat at the stern castle and shook his head. "Master Robbins," the hulking moor shouted against the wind, "shouldn't you be inspecting the powder as Sultan ordered?" Robbins half choked, his last received order suddenly flooding back to his mind, smothering the wonderful daydream he was having. "A--aye, s'r," Robbins coughed as he spun on his heel. He wiped his sun beaten lips with the back of his hand, half to clean the dribble of rum, and half to hide the curse he uttered beneath his breath, "Charles' damn moor! There are sail'rs 'ere 'bouts wit all 'dier riggin' about 'em!" Robbins had never liked the moor. He was all duty and no sense. Having Fazul around had always been like having a queen's officer around the ship. He resented Fazul for his position with Charles. Fazul was always the trusted confidant, always. How could any man trust a man that drank tea more than rum? Robbins never could understand Charles trust in the man. Robbins old eyes glared at the hulking second mate as he made his way down the stairs and across the deck set about on his duties. His stride disrupted by his aching and apparent need. Fazul ignored the drunken man and walked onto the cabin door. He stopped and lowered his burden before quietly knocking. Charles as still staring out to sea when he heard the quiet knock, not turning around, just barked," Enter, Fazul!" The knock had woken Dawn from her frozen observations of Charles. The way his powerful arm rested on his hip, his other arm cocked and leaning into the windowsill in his habit of thought. The way his blue eyes glistened in the sunlight. His long blond curls falling over the broad shoulder slung belt the supported his cutlass and down his back resting between his thick shoulder blades. His powerful back could be seen beneath his flowing loose shirt. The black leather belt cinched at his waist pulled his breeches tight over his backside. Below that, his thighs and calves were thick from the exercise of a seaman. Never had she seen such a man, nor had she ever desired any man as much as she did this one. Catherine had stopped sobbing but remained cowered upon the floor, frozen with fear. Some desperate hope had sprung to her that if she were perfectly still and quiet they would forget about her entirely. The knock and its forced bark from her captor had fanned the flames of panic in her breast and she pleaded in a quiet nasal whine, "No, no, Captain, please... have mercy." Her eyes flashed quickly. Tears welling once again as Charles spun round to stare at her with his blazing blue eyes. The look he gave her was frightening; she could see lust and a diabolical flare to his gaze. "Have mercy?" Charles smirked as Fazul pushed his way into the cabin, the individual stocks in his inhumanly powerful grasp. Catherine's mouth dropped, she could not put voice to her scream as she looked at the cruel device. The irony of criminal's in possession of an instrument of justice eluded her terror filled mind. "But milady," Charles said mockingly as he slowly rounded the desk towards Catherine's meek form, "I have already shown you great mercy; against my better judgment, mind you mi slut. You have been granted a great mercy not but a few hours passed." Charles bent as he pulled her chin roughly away from their frozen stare at the stocks to face him as he finished, "And you, mi tart, chose to repay your benefactor with shouts and hatred! Fazul!" Charles finished with a commanding bark. Misty Dawn & The Raven Ch. 5 Fazul stepped close and grabbed one of Catherine's wrists. She shrieked a shrill protest and beat at the giant man with her other fist in total futility. Fazul pulled her roughly forward and lowered her into the stocks. The smooth polished deck ground coolly against Catherine's nipples that still ached from abuse by a multitude of vile fingers and depraved tongues. Charles grabbed her flailing arm and pulled her fully into place, her feet were kicking uselessly at the floor of the cabin as Fazul slammed the stocks together. Catherine felt the wood crush her hair against the back of her neck, and close around her small wrists. She could move all her appendages, but doing so rubbed her flesh with unfinished, grainy wood. She watched in abject horror as Fazul slowly and patiently fed the open loop of the dark Iron lock through the spread latch hole, snapping it home with one thrust of his meaty hand. The small metallic click of the lock snapping home was like a thunderclap in Catherine's ears. She began to sob once more. Misty Dawn & The Raven Ch. 6 Charles smiled down at her as what little fight left Catherine's body with a whimper. "Sultan," Fazul, said just above a whisper, breaking Charles thoughts, Charles snapped his attention to his first mate, as if Catherine did not exist. Fazul bowed his head deeply as he continued, "Sultan, I beg your forgiveness; but I must remind you that she is in no condition for physical mistreatment as yet." Dawn watched as Charles face went from angry and diabolic to a half smile, then expanding to a devilishly charming grin. Charles clapped his hands loudly and began to laugh, "Faz-Fazul, my old friend," Charles barely managed and had to pause to allow himself a deep chested chuckle before continuing. "I thought you knew me better than that, my old friend. My forgiveness is not given, for it is not necessary. I do remember, and I have gave it great thought." Charles leered down at Catherine and burst out laughing again. "Fazul," Charles began with a soft bemused voice, "should she," he pointed at Catherine, "not eat to regain her strength?" Fazul, looked deep into Charles' blue eyes before nodding, trying to mask his confusion. Charles clapped his hands once again before he continued, "Wonderful, then it is decided, the Tart Catherine shall take her breakfast to learn her place and regain her strength. Thank you, my friend," Charles said with a wave, "that will be all, Fazul. Thank you." Fazul did not take his face from Charles, but his eyes glanced fearfully to Catherine before he nodded and bowed deeply as he rose and backed towards the door, "Yes, Sultan," he said softly as he closed the door behind him. Charles watched the door close then turned to Dawn, "Misty, have you ate your fill, mi pet?" he asked in a voice of complete devotion. Dawn had watched the scene with complete fascination. Fazul and Charles dragging Catherine to the stocks and watching them close around her, the hefty wood and iron from locking her tight, the weight pinning her wispy form to the floor. It took a few seconds for his words to reach her brain, the stocks having struck some hidden cord deep within her mind. Finally, she blinked and turned her head abruptly enough to cause her crimson curls to flutter as she did. Dawn opened her mouth, but her throat was so dry she could make not a sound. She licked her suddenly parched lips and then resigned herself to simply nod, casting her eyes down to the deck, somewhat ashamed of the curious fire that was smoldering within her core and causing her to not speak. "Very good," Charles smiled, the words dripping off his tongue, "then we shall address Catherine's insolence and hunger at once." * * * * * Fazul stood and regarded the door to Charles' cabin for a few moments before shaking his large bald, tattooed head. He turned and walked away with long strides. The giant of a man looked around the deck, eyeing every sailor, a few paused in their duties as his eyes fell upon them. They would quickly turn away and back to their chores as his dark eyes met their own. Fazul wondered about Robbins, whom was not above deck. A massive paw rubbed a large chin in thought then Fazul headed below decks. It was sweltering as usual under the decks of the cramped vessel as Fazul peered through the gloom. He walked past the rows of guns and their neat stacks of balls and kegs of powder, ducking his head at every beam. Suddenly he heard a raspy wheezing in a darkened corner near a cannon. A frown appeared upon his brow and he softly strode towards it. He stopped a few feet from the noise and watched as a kneeling Robbins crouched in the darkness beside one of the long guns. His trousers were pulled down to his thighs and he was wheezing. One fist was tightly clutched around the neck of his ever-present bottle; the other was rapidly crushing, and then revealing tufts of thick gray hairs at his groin. The old man was muttering to himself as he pumped his grease manhood hard and fast with a gnarled hand. Just as Fazul was about to speak, the old man coughed and grinned widely, a burst of milky jettison launched from the head of Robbins' cock and landed upon the barrel of the gun. Robbins still had his cock in his hand and was milking a dribble from it as he lifted the bottle to his lips when Fazul broke the silence of his enjoyment. "Master Robbins!" Fazul said loudly, but dispassionately as he could muster despite his temperament, "Master Robbins, I think you should clean that cannon before you finish your inventory of the powder, lest you tempt Sultan's temper this day." With that, he tossed a rag that smelt of oil to Robbins who caught it with a trembling, cum slick hand. Fazul nodded politely and turned away. Robbins' face was flushed, with a reddening combination of release, rum, and anger. He spit on the deck and without bothering with his clothes turned to the barrel with the rag and cleaned his spill from its steel. "Damn, that giant half of a man!" Robbins spat under his breath. "If'n 'e 'ad proper riggin', he'ld 'ave both the 'itches. But how c'n 'e even know what be drivin' the 'ole bloody crew ta madness?!? And wit' da Cap'n keepin' 'em both l'cked up fer his own..." Robbins trailed off as he rubbed the cannon clean. He threw the rag into the darkness as he stood up and pulled his clothes back into place, wiping the back of his hand on his striped shirtfront before emptying his bottle. * * * * * Charles paced slowly around Catherine, like the wolf circling the lame calf before the kill. When he reached the point of his origins, his black boots barely inches from Catherine's stocked right fingers, Charles hissed in a menacingly soft voice, "Catherine," his voice a hair's breath above a whisper, "listen to me, and listen very well. I pray you hear every word and digest, me precious tart. Your life was given to you by your lady, Misty Dawn here; as surely as if she had given birth to you. You repay the woman who saved your life, how? By spitting on her acts of mercy, that were far better than you deserved." Charles paused and began his slow heavy footed pace once more before continuing his lecture, "You have been spared your life and the fruits of life were offered to help you in regaining your strength, you refused them and made a mockery of the gallant offer. There is far worse fare ate by many on this fine ship, that would be much more fitting to a punished convict upon her decks, as you are; and even less, you are but only booty captured in bloody battle on the high seas." "That said," Charles' voice rose an octave as he stopped his pacing, one boot on either side of Catherine's cringing face, "mi tart, you should be punished." Charles took a deep breath and Catherine's fear erupted into a stream of silent tears. His words were like another session with the scourge on Catherine's screaming flesh, but all the more cruel. Catherine was certain that she would die of a broken heart if he did not stop his vicious attack upon her ears. She also feared that if his words ceased to flow, she would begin to feel the hot licks of leather once more, and she was sure would definitely destroy her body's grip on her soul. Charles laughed soft and cold as he kneeled and pulled her face to his by her brown hair, "Unfortunately, you seem to not respond with your brain to the lash; and that is mute because, as your second savior, Fazul, has stated, 'you would not survive' the ordeal so soon." Charles icy blue eyes bored through her brown eyes like a smoldering ball through wormed timbers. "So what do you think we shall do about your latest misbehavior, m'trollop?" Catherine could not help but look into his eyes, she could not find the strength to clamp her eyes shut. She was mesmerized, not unlike the rabbit staring into the eyes of the viper. The beauty in those eyes, did nothing to hide the danger that lurked there, but coated her with the magic of fear. Charles knew he had her complete attention, a slow grin of cruelty spread across his lips as he began in a slow whisper, "Since killing you would be disagreeable, the men would not be happy to see you as a corpse, they prefer their meals hot. Also, Misty Dawn, your benefactor would hate to see you die after she put her own flesh to the lash in vain for you once already. I could not, in good conscience, allow her to take your blows as well so soon. Furthermore, you must need to eat, lest you catch your death of hunger. And since you have insulted my jewel in my cabin, I have selected a proper punishment for you." Charles dropped her head and then said flatly and in a more conversational tone, "You will be fed. You will be at once begging forgiveness from Misty Dawn, and gaining sustenance. Once she is satisfied you may fill your stomach." Charles glowered down at Catherine, "But," He hissed threateningly, "should you not wish to beg forgiveness in the proper manner, I will have to raise my hand to your backside once more, m' sweet tart." Catherine barely had time to contemplate his last words. She shrieked as Charles sprung like a tiger, his strong hands seizing her by the armpits, causing the rough wood of the heavy stocks to bite her flesh as he pulled her viciously behind him. Catherine's knees slid across the polished planks of the deck, the friction burning at the skin over her naked kneecaps. The cabin was lurching before Catherine's eyes; the foot of Charles' oversized bed loomed nearer as his strides lengthened. She gasped, certain that she would be raped by none other than the blackguard leader of this pack of dogs. Her fears were confirmed in her mind as he slung her body and stocks head long at the bed. Her entrapped arms and neck lead the way of her body sprawling over the foot rail and landing hard upon the feathers. Her breasts crushed against the foot rail of the bed, their rough landing shaking the tall posters slightly. Her tormented knees landing hard upon the deck with twin thumps under her weight. Her ass stuck out in a most vulnerable manner, but her feeble limbs could not flee nor defend herself under her burden. Charles' tongue wetted his lips as he looked at her small ass lifted perfectly with her torso draped heavily over the foot of the bed. Dawn's gray-green eyes widened at the display, she was as certain as Catherine as to the woman's fate. A pang of jealousy rose in her breast as she caught a glimpse of Charles' tongue on his lips, that she wished to feel upon her own. Her small hand clenched in an unspoken rage, just before Charles spun at his waist to address her. "Misty, m'pet," Charles said huskily, "it would appear that she owes you an apology." He raised a hand to quiet her as her mouth opened to protest for Catherine's sake. "If she should fail in her task, she can starve until she succeeds. Also, if she fails, she will feel my wrath, I think that those two incentives should be enough to persuade her to do her best for you." Dawn looked on as Charles turned his head back to Catherine for his last sentence. She was trying to comprehend what he was saying, and was beginning to wonder if his mind was quite well when he stretch out an upturned palm towards her at arms length without turning, "Come and receive you apology, my pet." Charles said in a tender tone over Catherine's blanket muffled sobs. They were both quite aware that Catherine had still held her ass raised, perhaps even lifted it a wee bit for more exposure to them both. Dawn slowly reached for Charles' hand stepping forward tentatively. Charles gripped her hand ever so lightly, as if her fingers were made of flower petals that he did not wish to disturb. He led her towards the bed; she had to carefully step over Catherine's parted legs as they rounded the tall poster. Charles pulled with one hand a pile of soft pillows from the head of the bed to its mid-ship. Then he turned with a smile of adoration and pulled Dawn's lips to his with his ever so soft touch that had led her this far. His tongue dove deep into her mouth and parried with her own. Dawn's arms flung tight around his thick neck in a fevered attempt to pull his lips to her more tightly. Charles let his hands slowly slip from her shoulders down the contours of her back, light as a feather, as if to not bring her latent stinging flesh back to full blaze out of kindness, but to warm her nerves with the presence of his fingers. Dawn moaned softly into his mouth as his fingers settled at her hips. She felt him lifting her to him and her head swam as she kissed him back passionately. Charles gently set Dawn's backside upon the edge of the bed, his hand slipping down her leg as if to lift it upon the bed. Dawn let o of his neck and rolled onto the bed like a starved man to the table, her legs spread and inviting, her gray-green eyes smoldering as she looked at Charles bent over the bed's edge. "Nay, lass, "Charles smiled as he shook his head, crossing his strong arms across his powerful chest as he slowly rose to full height. " Don't look to me, to stoke that fire that is kindling; tis the ungrateful bitch that shall eat to your fill before she sees a morsel of food." Charles words caused four eyes to pop out of their sockets. A silence fell over the cabin as Charles stood there with a lusty grin bout his face letting his words sink in. Catherine was the first to break it after a handful of seconds that seemed like hours. "N--no, no I-I can not do that!" She sputtered through fearful gasps. Charles' arms unfolded and one shot forth and grasped her by the hair, "Yes, you can, and you will!" Charles hissed. Dawn's eyes were still wide, and a strange heat filled her body from the crux of her splayed thighs. Charles twisted Catherine's head around roughly and pressed her forward until her nose was brushed by Dawn's fiery golden down. Catherine's nostrils were flooded with the heavy scent of Dawn's desire. Her eyes were agape. She had never seen such an organ, dark pink and gorged with Dawn's pulse, glistening with her nectar. A pink rose in full bloom, its petals heavy with her own dew; surrounded by a tiny field of fire. Catherine felt a warmth that she could not deny, nor explain. Her blood beat hard in her head as she stared at Dawn's femaleness at point blank range. Catherine's lips parted slightly in her shock. Dawn felt Catherine's breath hot upon her hungry flesh. Her legs tightened and she leaned back into the pillows. Her eyes met Catherine's eyes, which were locked hard upon her. "Uuuhhh," Dawn gasped and tilted her head back into the pillows as she flexed her lower abdomen in need, feeling Catherine's nose against her curls she tossed her head to one side and groaned softly, her hands filling and clutching the blankets into whirl pooled fists. Charles grinned as he watched the pair became entrapped by their own curiosity into the web of his plan. "Catherine," he whispered softly, "if you ever want to eat again in this life, eat now. Make her scream, worship her for forgiveness... otherwise..." he let his words halt as he drove home his point by slapping Catherine's abused ass cheek with loud landing palm. Catherine bucked at the blow and screamed. Her chin pressed against Dawn's folds and Dawn arched towards it with a sigh. Catherine pulled her head back, her chin slick with the scent of Dawn, crying, "I-I can't..." Charles cut her protest short with a slap on her opposite cheek and a violent jerk on her hair. "You will! You owe her your worthless life, you whore, now I suggest you earn your supper!" Charles growled in her ear and he plunged her face hard upon Dawn's awaken clit hard. Dawn's eyes shot wide and she moaned loudly and arched towards her reward. Catherine was forced to take her first taste of a woman; heavy musky nectar stung her tongue. She was forced to suck hard, trying to catch her breath. She suddenly felt Dawn grinding against her. The fist in her hair relaxed and she felt a glow filling her body. Something was holding her hard upon Dawn's bud but it was not Charles, but just as powerful as his fist. She slowly drew Dawn's slick pulsing button through her teeth, feeling its skin pass through her pearly gates. Dawn Crushed her mouth full of her and was screaming somewhere beyond Catherine's reality. She felt warm thighs surround her stockaded head, squeezing out all sound but two fevered heartbeats and the distant roll of Dawn's enjoyment. Her tongue rolled the clit that she held firmly but gently between her teeth, tasting and feeling its every nerve, contour, and flavor. She took a deep breath through hr nose and opened her lips further, sucking hard upon the clit as she plunged her tongue deep into Dawn's wide spread gates, scouring here, there, everywhere for more of that delicious nectar. She began twisting her head as she worked feverishly, whishing, praying that the stocks were not there so that she would have more movement to explore and share with this woman, who was moaning loud and louder at the end of her tongue, pumping her folds upon her lips in perfect response to her every attempt to please. Catherine was consumed. A fire was welling slowly, but hotly deep within her that she had never thought possible. Never in her entire life had she wished to satisfy another, to serve them so completely. Her mind was lost completely to her body. A demoness had succeeded with her soul and she could feel the flames of hell upon her nether as she debased herself upon a common Irish whore; and she could not have cared, she craved. Flood after flood, moan after louder moan filled Catherine's ears and mouth. She devoured both as if they were ambrosia and nectar and she was a Venus, latched upon a Venus well. Her hands strained against the stocks, not for escape, but to find some of the flesh of Dawn that they burned to feel, to hold, and to caress. Her own flower was pouting and sweating, she was awash in her own lust, a complete victim of Charles, Dawn, and the Raven. Dawn was lifting and flexing, pumping and screaming. She was beside herself. She had no idea how long she had screamed, but she could not stop. Silence only came when she could no longer find breath to voice her pleasure. Her legs pumped and squeezed. Her arms thrashed and stretched. She was going mad with release. Nothing quite so powerful as a woman at your mercy and your sex, she thought to herself, and moaned again. Charles leaned on the windowsill, a smile at his lips and bottle of rum in his hand. He watched as Catherine pumped her hips in search of something that she could not find. He listened to the symphony of muffled moans, loud shrieks, and flicking tongue. When he saw that exhaustion was falling upon them both he lifted an empty flagon to his lips, then set it aside. "Dawn, my sweet," Charles said smoothly, but loud enough for both to hear, "do you accept Catherine's apology?" "Y-yessss...Yes, YES!!!" Dawn screamed and pushed herself hard to Catherine's cum greased lips in one final explosion that shook her entire being. Catherine moaned softly against her sex as her own body trembled with the satisfaction she had never known existed. Misty Dawn & The Raven Ch. 7 Charles was enjoying the smell of the sea air as the afternoon shadows began to creep over the Raven's deck. He was sipping a silver flask of brandy and gnawing on an orange as he watched the activity on the deck. Four of his men and Catherine were on their knees scrubbing the deck clean. Her small ass was jutting skyward and invitingly, the few days of rest had all but removed her striping she had suffered the other night. It was obvious her strength was returning, and though she still protested from time to time, she was adapting to her role as a trophy of war rather well. He pulled at the flask and let the wind sweep over his bare chest. There was a slight chill and urgency to it that belied the afternoon heat. He lowered the flask and let his blue eyes scan the horizon. His lips pursed at what he saw in the distance. "Mr. Collins," Charles asked as he lifted a muscular arm to point to the horizon behind them. Young Collins leaned forward from his post and followed Charles arm to the horizon, squinting for a better view. Charles did not need to see the color leave Collins face, for he was certain of what he saw. "Looks like there be a blow, comin' up, Mr. Collins," Charles said with no emotion in his voice. Collins nodded as he reached for his spyglass, "Aye, cap'n, does indeed, sir." Charles continued to watch the thin black line on the horizon, trying to guess the speed of the clouds that would soon have the Raven enveloped. Collins was doing the same with his glass extended and rose to his eye. The two men stood there in silence staring at the sky and sea. Suddenly Collins lowered his glass and then lifted it again. Lowering it once more he pointed to the horizon and offered Charles the glass, "Cap'n," he said with urgency, "there's a sail." Charles snatched the glass and lifted it to his eye, trying to follow Collins' indicating finger. Suddenly the lens revealed buffeted sheets of a ship. He held the glass upon it for a moment. He had known those sails well, and their captain. Charles studied the scene for a long moment. The ship was scrambling to cut sail and prepare, but it was loosing time fast. The storm was moving as fast as he had surmised. Charles lowered the glass and clapped it close. "They'll have to do what they can, Collins," Charles said as he handed back the instrument of sight to the young pirate. "We've work to do," Charles said matter of factly as he drained the flask and then leaned over the rail and bellowed to the deck, "All hands on deck!" His bark was followed by shrill whistles blowing and rousting scurrying men from all quarters of the Raven. --------- Dawn had been smoothing the blankets of Charles' bed from their latest activities when she heard Charles booming voice followed quickly by shrilly sounding whistles. She rose and was both curious and concerned. Part of her imagination was telling her that there was another victim of the Raven close at hand and she would soon hear the booming of great guns inaugurating another battle at sea. Her heart leapt to her throat thinking of the risk that Charles would be taking with his life and she ran to the door, her crimson curls flying away from her pale skin in her wake. She pulled the door open and took one step onto the deck when she ran head long into Fazul's incredibly large chest. Fazul pushed her back into the cabin and pulled Catherine in his wake. Dawn was shocked, "What is going on Fazul?" She demanded. "A storm, Sultan's Girl," Fazul said quickly and firmly. "He took her hand in his and looked her in the eye, "Sultan's Girl, Sultan wants the two of you to stay here. Keep the door bolted so it will not fly in the wind." He almost had turned away, but he caught the look of concern wash over Dawn's face and the look of fright sparkle in Catherine's eyes, so he looked at both of them and smiled a massive, reassuring smile, "All will well. The storm is not upon us yet and there is no finer a man than Sultan in a blow. Now stay put and keep warm, all will be well. Sultan will come when his our work is finished." With that he bowed deeply and slammed the door behind him, "Calling through the wood, remember, and keep the door bolted!" His last remark was more like an order than she had heard from the kindly giant, but Dawn stepped to the door and through the bolt. Catherine started hesitantly, "D-dawn..." Dawn turned from the door, her temper roused by being brushed aside like a fragile woman. If this ship and crew needed help for the safety of all, why then was she locked into a cupboard like a precious trinket! Her blazing eyes fell hard upon Catherine's cowering form and she rolled her eyes, "What, Catherine, what?" Catherine looked at the anger in Dawn's eyes and somehow found comfort in that she was brave enough to be angry. Catherine herself, not one for enjoying the buck and roll of the sea under the best of circumstances was terrified. She almost ignored the fact that Dawn had taken to calling her by her given name, as if they were equals. "Dawn, do you think we will...sink?" Terror had consumed her voice with a tremble to her shrill tenor. Dawn threw her arms up, her fingers jutting out like small fans, "Catherine, I do not believe this is the first time that these men have seen a little storm before." She realized that her words had stung Catherine deeply and she took a deep breath then pulled Catherine beside her on the bed and held her bony shoulders. "Everything will be alright, you'll see," Dawn offered reassuringly as Catherine put her face in her hands and leaned into the swell of Dawn's chest. ---------- For what had seemed like hours Dawn sat with Catherine, occasionally glancing at the closing of the dark swirling mass out the window. Then came the first tiny, wind split droplets upon the cut glass panes. Suddenly they were being pitched violently. They were both holding one another for support as the storm raged above decks. Twice Catherine filled Charles' brass chamber pot with the contents of her jostled stomach. Her face was a pallor of green as the deck leapt beneath them. The window was as black as pitch, washed with splattering of tormented waves, and sprayed with heavy drops from overfilled clouds. Dawn more than once heard Charles voice booming like a second thunder against the fury of the storm. She also heard the heavy crashing of objects, bursts of thunder, shouts of men, and the ever present battering of rain. Catherine was finally asleep, exhaustion from her fear and tender belly pushing her into the solace that only sleep could bring. Dawn drew the covers over her companion and kissed a lock of disheveled brown hair from her face as she tried to stand form the bed as it pitched violently in the storm. Dawn had to bend over and thrust her legs to support her weight as the rain was buffeted and listed quickly before righting itself. She heard Charles swearing violently at one of his pirates. She swayed her steps to the door and put a hand on the bolt. Her toes were cold and wet from water that was leaking beneath the door, the wood felt chill as well. The Raven lunged and Dawn fell from the door hitting her head hard on the deck as she landed. Her eyes glossed with dull pain and she decided that her curiosity would only kill her if she dared to open the door. She crawled to the bed disappointed and hurting. --------------- The Raven leapt and bounced over the thrusting waves, like a whore over undulating body of her mate. Taking an unwelcome brutalization from the sea, her timbers creaked and strained, her overstrained rigging groaned against the winds cruel caress. Surf and rain pummeled her decks like calloused hands over a body to be discarded after the joy was spent. The Raven had chosen its fate and was now seeing the harsh reality of its wanton life. Lightning split the sky, flashing like a quickly flashing candle, revealing her disheveled ignoble state. Thunder laughed as a vicious hand of the sea slapped her hull in a cruel thrust. Her prow disappeared as a foaming kiss swept over her visage, only to spit her out once more. Charles was soaked to the bone. His nipples were dripping from their hardened points. Every muscle in his body was fighting the wheel to keep the Raven on the only course he could steer, into the depth of the storm. He shook the drenched locks form before his eyes and shouted more orders across the sea swept decks. Collins was trying desperately to help him with the wheel, but the young man was losing his fight with his strength. Charles ignored the burn in his muscles from his back, legs, arms, and neck. He was thinking how wonderful it would be if Fazul could teach Misty Dawn to soothe his muscles with Fazul's oils and balms when a giant wave smashed the bow of the Raven, lifting her high from the water and burying the deck in a foamy wash at least four feet in depth. The ship landed hard upon the icy boiling waves. Someone shouted that a man was overboard, and Charles cursed, as there was a scurrying along the decks. He knew how hopeless it would be; the man could be a mile behind the Raven. Clenching his jaw, he did not look at Collins' pleading eyes as he said in a hushed shout, "Steady on, Mr. Collins." Collins closed his eyes and his fingers tightened on the wheel. Collins knew that Charles was right, there was little to be done in a storm like this. To risk turning the wheel would mean capsizing the mighty Raven and the attempt to rescue one man would cost all their lives. Collins wondered where Charles found his clam in disregard for human life. It was if the man was made of stone, immobile and resistless to any attempt to pull upon his heart. It was not that Charles did not care for his men, he would be the first to a fallen man's side; that is once the task was complete. However, once death was upon a man, Charles put him completely from his mind. He had not once heard of Charles mentioning anything of Starkley's death since that very night. It was as if once the man's body had been given back to the sea, it washed all memory from Charles' mind forever. Collins shook his head and blinked sea spray from his eyelashes peering into the nothingness of the black storm that had swallowed them all like Jonah's wale. Charles noticed a deal of commotion as several men were pulling something up the side of the ship. He ignored it and faced the storm. It was losing to him. The storm was breaking against the iron will that was the master of the Raven. He smiled as the winds slowed a bit. The waves were still pitching, but losing their power. The rain fell slowly about the Raven and she was becoming more receptive to the helm. Charles was about to dismiss Collins when Fazul came puffing up to his side, "Sultan," the large man gasped, "there is something you should see." Charles glanced at Collins who nodded and gripped the helm snugly, as Charles nodded putting one hand on the young man's shoulder before turning to leap after Fazul. ----------- Dawn was dreaming a dream of rolling hills and flight when she was shocked awake by a gust of cold, wet wind. A lightning bolt lit the sky leaving only a dark silhouette of Charles, his feet set square in the flapping door frame, a dark body clasped in his arms. The wind buffeted the room, sending charts and things toppling. The lantern squeaked and swung darkly having been put out long ago for safety against fire. Charles burst into the room, followed quickly by Fazul. Charles snarled to Dawn, "Misty, get Catherine out of bed, Fazul needs to work!" His tone was demanding and desperate. She pulled Catherine's arm waking her as she did. The poor seasick woman immediately brought one hand to her mouth not knowing what was going on. Before Dawn and Catherine were clear of the bed Charles dropped the body of a woman with dark skin to his sheets. She was covered in water, as if she was a fish just plucked from a river. She wore a light colored blouse that was stuck to her dark skin with the remnants of the sea. Her firm breasts pressed against the transparent cloth as if pleading for release before they were drowned. Her legs were covered with tight leather pants. A pistol was pulled from her belt and water poured from its barrel as it was cast aside. The woman's eyes were half closed and her voluptuous lips were a shade of ghastly lavender. Fazul began to inspect the woman in a most familiar way. Her skin making his dark thick fingers seem light in contrast. Charles fumbled with the lamp as Fazul tore the blouse from her chest, her soaked black breasts springing free. Dawn noticed how large her nipples were and how curiously dark they were on her chocolate skin. Fazul rolled her quickly, and none to gently onto her back, her head dripping like water over the side of the bed, her soaked black hair slashing upon the deck. Dawn gasped as the giant put both his massive hands beneath her and pulled her abdomen up harshly, tenting her back over his fists. The woman gurgled and spit a stream of seawater from her purple lips. Dawn gaped as she watched the woman groan and cough. Charles knelt beside the woman who was moving and coughing, "Welcome aboard the Raven, Captain," he smiled to the side of her girlish face. Dawn's jaw dropped. ----------------- Dawn could not believe what had happened the night before. It had scarcely been a few hours since she had found herself with a new shipmate. She was leaning over the Raven's gunnels watching the waves that seemed so peaceful in the morning sun. Complete contrast to the dark black and raging swells of last night. Those strange waves, like the winds of destiny that had swept one of Charles' cutthroats to his doom and brought a dark-skinned woman to his bed. Not that Dawn was jealous, but Charles had insisted that Dawn and Catherine leave the woman to his cabin alone with Fazul while she recovered from her experience. Dawn could not believe that anyone could have survived in the water last night. "Where did she come from?" Dawn asked the waves softly, rubbing her hands over her upper arms to fend off the morning chill in the air. She wondered how Charles had managed to keep awake after leading the Raven through the storm. He was still working full force, righting the ship, and barking orders, inspecting rigging and sails. She could hear him on the far side of the ship. His voice was flowing on the winds. She could also hear Fazul arguing with him, encouraging him to lie down for his health. Charles was not impressed. His voice was growing agitated and louder, though a little hoarse from his shouts of orders over the howling winds of last night. She could almost imagine him, still shirtless and his long golden curls knotted as they had dried haphazardly as the rains had ceased, throwing his arm skyward in his annoyance, "I said NO! Fazul, this is my ship and I will not rest until she is right as rain! Is that UNDERSTOOD"? Dawn covered her smiling lips as she giggled a bit towards the low hanging morning sun. She stared off into the distance enjoying the quiet for a while longer before she heard heavy footsteps approaching behind her. She slowly turned, and Fazul bowed his head towards her. She smiled at the gentle giant of the waves and leaned back on the rail on her elbows, her chilled and bumped breasts pushing out towards the man who seemed not to notice her at all. "Sultan's Girl," Fazul began softly as to not wake the shivering wet blanket covered Catherine at Dawn's feet. "I must beg a favor of you, if I may," Fazul said softly, his eyes seemed glistened with nervousness that shocked Dawn, what could this man possibly be frightened of? Dawn smiled and responded gaily, "Of course, Fazul, anything," she said as she stepped forward and placed a tiny hand against his huge chest as if to reassure him. Fazul smiled warmly down into her eyes. He watched her for a long while in silence before he responded. "Sultan's Girl, you are too kind. Much more so than you should be," he added with a raised finger of warning that amused Dawn. "Sultan is refusing to rest. He has ordered all men to take their rest. He fought with the wheel all night, and though he will not admit to it, he is definitely worse for wear than the Raven." Fazul stopped and took both of Dawn's hands into his own and asked as the smile faded from his lips, "Sultan's Girl, I think that you are possibly the only one on this vessel that might be able to get him to get some sleep." Dawn instantly cocked her head to one side and began to accept, "Fazul, I will..." However, the large man cut her off, "Sultan's Girl, you must know that he is angry at me for my failed attempt, this could tempt his anger I have no right to ask this of you, but the man must rest." Dawn's red eyebrows bunched hard upon her gray-green eyes, she did not like being interrupted like that, "Fazul, you are right that he must get some sleep." She said as she strode right past the large man and as she passed, she tossed some crimson curls over her shoulder and flashed an impatient look at her friend, "Fazul, I know what I am doing, I am not a child!" With that, Fazul watched her stomped across the deck towards Charles' barking voice. Fazul shook his bald painted head and stepped away. Misty Dawn & The Raven Ch. 8 Dawn was stepping over a tumbled coiled of soaked rigging rope when she came up behind Charles. He was busy screaming at the disgusting Mr. Robbins, "Damn and blast you scurvy swab Robbins!" Charles shouted at the man. Charles chiseled arm was pointing at a small flooded keg on the deck at the old man's feet. "I thought I told you to check the powder, damn it! That is an entire keg ruined. Since the ship's shares were so poor this outing, I will expect you to procure a replacement!" Robbins' ancient eyes blazed with rage and he moved to speak but Charles cut him off with a shout, "IS THAT UNDERSTOOD!" The old man shrank back, cast his eyes down, and simply nodded. "Good!" Charles bellowed, slowly turning away, this conversation ended. Dawn stepped up slowly, hoping to not catch his fire full yet after his discussion with Robbins. "Captain Charles," Dawn said meekly, lowering her lashes; taking in the raw beauty of his bare flesh and still damp, tight stretched breeches. She hoped her slightly bowed head could hide her small smile from his blue-eyed gaze. Charles looked at Dawn the anger slipping from his face slowly. The morning sun was filling her red curls with a warm glow; it was a remarkable sight. "Yes, m'pet?" Charles asked calmly, his voice rough from hours of shouting. Dawn looked up at him and saw he was relaxing before her. She thought that this would make her task much easier. "Well, Captain," she began quietly, "I was thinking that you must be exhausted as we all are from the storm...shouldn't you be getting yourself some rest?" Charles threw his head back and laughed heartily. Then he took Dawn's cheeks in both hands and pressed his lips to hers in a hard kiss. "Well, Misty," Charles laughed upon breaking his embrace, "I must say that Fazul is improving his strategy sending in your charms to lead me away from m'duty." His tone sent contradictory sensations of heat and chill through Dawn. There was something in his words that both exhilarated her and cautioned her. He had seen right through her ploy, but had responded better than she could have hoped for. Dawn's sensations were rent again with a start at the sound of clapping behind her. Her eyes belied a light shock but one look at Charles' face and she was reassured. Charles' light eyes flashed up, looking round Dawn's fiery curls, the sight he saw brought a half smile to his lips. "Well, Captain Olivia," Charles grinned. Dawn turned around slowly to find the dark-skinned woman grinning broadly behind her, her lips still a bit blue, but seemed none the worse for wear. She had one of Charles' shirts pulled over her body. Her left eye was now covered with a black leather patch. The woman's thick hair was curled tighter than dark wool; she had it tied back with a saffron silk scarf. The pistol that had previously been filled with water was once more tucked into a belt that tied her waist. She was not wearing any skirt or pants. Her dark legs were bared beneath the bottom seam of the blouse she had obtained from Charles' cabin. Her dark feet rested lightly upon the deck. The woman walked right between Dawn and Charles, almost joining their embrace and looked into Charles' blue eyes with her dark one before speaking. The woman spoke with a heavy accent that Dawn could not place as she walked forward, her purpled lips smiling powerfully, "Ah, m'captain Charles," she began with a more than friendly air, "what booty be this, eh?" Dawn felt the woman's inquisitive, uncovered eye searching her skin as if it held unseen loot. Dawn felt her cheeks warm under the dark gaze of the strange woman; she lowered her eyes, her red curls falling around her face, trying to cover her reddening cheeks. She felt a warm, hand with long fingers caressing her upper arm. Her gray-green eyes caught the stark contrast of chocolate upon cream as the woman's skin met her own. "I must say, Charles," the dark woman said approvingly, "you have plucked a rare prize 'ere, no?" "I have to agree with you, Olivia," Charles responded, pulling back half a step from Dawn, allowing his old friend a chance to admire his latest prize. He folded his arms across his chest and watched the hunger fill Olivia's eyes. She was so predictable, he almost laughed at her obvious distraction with Dawn. Of course, he could not disagree with her in the least; Misty Dawn was a rare prize indeed. Dawn felt Olivia's hands run the length of both her arms; she had the peculiar feeling of being inspected as a horse by the jockey before a race. Suddenly her eyes were met and caught by Olivia's one dark orb. That one eye burned with a fire that resembled Charles' lust filled looks. That dark fire swept over Dawn's face. The white gleam of Olivia's teeth flashed into a broad smile as she spoke softly, "And who are wee, little pet?" Dawn tried to speak but found her throat suddenly dry; somehow, she was parched for something more than water. Charles broke the silence of the deck quickly saving her from her failed voice. "Captain Olivia, may I present, my latest captured treasure, Misty Dawn," Charles placed both his hands on Dawn's suddenly trembling shoulders and he stepped behind her, his body pressing against her bare back. Dawn nodded as Charles concluded. "Misstee Dawn, aye," Olivia said with a thoughtful tilt of her head, "that sounds leek Charlez." She grinned brightly into Dawn's face, and pulled her wrists forward and together so they were out stretched below the line of her breasts. "Now, petit, that is a veery sweet name, you must be very impreesseeve." Dawn felt her cheeks blaze and had to wet her lips, as her mouth was very dry. This dark woman was stirring things within her with her praises and teasing accent. "Olivia," Charles spoke from behind Dawn's ear, "shouldn't you be in bed, milady? You did swallow a barrel of surf lass." "Doan 'ou bee reemeendin' mee, Charlez!" Olivia snapped, but without taking her eyes off Dawn's displayed assets. "Ee iz well enough tee stand. Eend Ee 'ave a sheep to feend, you fool!" Olivia's boldness shocked Dawn, she half expected that Charles was going to strike her down right where she stood for her words. She almost felt like slapping the woman, but could find no strength to pull her arms from the woman's light grip upon her wrists. Then suddenly she wrenched her wrist from Olivia's grasp and did strike at the woman. However, her flat open palm was halted in an iron grip a bare breath from Olivia's dark cheek. The woman's fist was gripping her wrist hard and fast, draining all the strength from it. Her one eye flared and danced over Dawn's face. "Veery good, Mistee Dawn," Olivia whispered huskily. Charles laughed loudly behind Dawn's ear, "My apologies, Olivia, she is not fully broke in as yet." Dawn's ears burned, 'not fully broken in as yet?' What in god's name was Charles on about? She did not have time to wonder as Olivia slapped her, the dark of her backhand crashing down hard on Dawn's cheek. Dawn's face was thrown aside on her neck, then sent sprawling back for her chin to rest on her opposite shoulder as Olivia's palm drove it backwards with two cat like strikes that Dawn hardly seen, but truly felt. "Eet 'ould seeem, Mistee Dawn, dat 'ou 'ave mooch ta learn, aye? Ee canna 'ait tee geet starteed." Olivia added with a lust filled smile of delight. Charles, bowed as he spoke to Olivia, as if Dawn was no longer there on the deck, "I apologies for her careless regard for her station, captain. If you would care to adjourn to my cabin, we can see to her long neglected tutelage." Olivia smiled at Charles an leaned in to kiss him warmly on the cheek, "'ave coorse, Charlez," Olivia said with a glee coming to her voice, "'at 'ould bee eekscelleent." "After you, captain," Charles offered politely, to which Olivia nodded her head to one side and turned towards his cabin. Charles whispered harshly into Dawn's ear, "Don't disappoint me again, m'dear." Dawn felt like she had just been crushed from the inside out. She turned to speak to him, but he turned his head away and cut her off, "ON your knees, bitch," he snarled like an executioner. Dawn fell to her knees quickly, her gray-green eyes lowered to the deck, trying to hide the tear that was trying to creep into the corner of her eye. "Now, mi tart, crawl to the cabin!" Charles ordered and Dawn started. The hard planks of the deck thumped against her knees at every awkward stride. Then she felt the first strike of Charles hand on her raised ass cheek, "Ow..!" But her cry was immediately silenced as Charles grabbed and yanked a fistful of crimson curls, "Not a sound, bitch, you have insulted my guest enough already!" His words bringing more sting than any blow could possibly land upon her. Dawn lowered her head and scurried faster towards the cabin. Slap! Slap! Charles was right at her heels driving his palm upon her cheeks with rapid succession all the way to the open doorway where Olivia leaned on the jam licking her grinning lips. Once inside the cabin, Dawn scarcely had time to catch her breath when she heard the door slam shut and felt Charles' powerful hand pull her into a kneeling position by the back of the neck. Her ass landed hard upon her heels and pinched her feet hard to the deck, "Uhhg," she gasped, more in surprise than from any pain. She heard Olivia in a husky, hushed voice speak first, "Tank 'ou Charlez, theez eez a rare treet," her words were cut short by the sounds of lips finding lips. Dawn lowered her lashes as she heard the pair exchanging embraces; her cheeks flushed annoying her that she felt emotion about something that she should not. Olivia broke their kiss by pushing Charles' chest away from her own, but not to far; her dark leg was still pressed to his calf. "Now, cheeld," Olivia spoke slowly as she pulled her body from Charles', "let us inspect your stance." Dawn's mind raced what was the woman talking about, she was kneeling? The feel of the woman's long dark bare foot deep upon her inner thigh sent a shudder through her body as it pulled her legs further apart. Dawn shuffled a bit to keep her balance as Olivia stretched her open. Olivia folded one arm across her chest, her thick nipples pressing hard against Charles' blouse. Her other arm rested an elbow against her folded her hand, a lazy finger sat softly upon her still blued lips as she regarded Dawn. "Dere, m'sloot," Olivia smiled after a moment, "now let ees see to 'our 'ands." With that, she nodded to Charles who quickly pulled Dawn's arms behind her. Dawn's red curls shuddered as her shoulders were moved, ringlets falling around her still down cast face. Her hands met behind her and she locked her fingers as if by instinct to hold on. The whole motion thrust her chest forward, her breasts gallantly displayed before Olivia's one-eyed gaze. Olivia smiled a broad grin that sparkled her bright teeth's contrast to her chocolate lips, "Ayee, Charlez, shee eez a gem," she almost drooled with to Charles, as if Dawn was only a child or a piece of art hanging from the wall. "I do know value, when I see it, Olivia," Charles said flatly. "All she needs is a wee bit of spit and polish and she will sparkle like the sun. Wouldn't you agree?" Olivia tapped her finger over her lips in thought. "Charlez," she began in a soft tone, "Ee 'ould 'ave to agreee wit' 'ou. Boot she deez need a beet o' w'rk. Eez 'ou sayee, 'speet eend poleesh'." Charles nodded, taking his hands from Dawn's arms so he could lean back against the wall, folding his arms across his broad chest. Olivia stepped around behind Dawn and curiously dipped two fingers into Dawn's crimson curls. She pulled the lock up slowly, rubbing the hair between her digits in slow thought. Dawn felt a shiver of exhilaration run through her body, boiling outward from her most secret depths at the woman's soft touch. Dawn tried to suppress her body's excitement. This strange woman was affecting her in such a curious way. Dawn felt a compulsion to please this woman; she had to admit that she felt the stirrings of desire. This pirate woman was inspecting her body with her darkly sparkling eye like an interested buyer inspecting a piece of statuary before the artisan in his shop. "'Ow weell do shee teek peen, Charlez?" Olivia asked suddenly dropping the red lock from her fingertips. "Well, Olivia, she is a survivor," Charles boasted on Dawn's behalf with a knowing grin. "Eendeed," Olivia said licking her lips as she looked down at the kneeling beauty before her. She patted Dawn's head softly and grinned to herself, "Charlez, feetch mee 'our instroomeents, pleeeze," Olivia's last word ended in a grinned hiss of delight as her eye lit up in expectation. Charles smiled and opened the glass doored cabinet on the far wall, pulling out a small iron box from the top shelf he set it on the desk, "I'll get back to righting my ship, Olivia, if you don't mind." Olivia just waved a hand almost in annoyance as she slithered towards the desk. Charles took her flapping hand and kissed her wrist softly, "My cabin, is yours, as are all my possessions, "he added with a nod towards Dawn. " Tank 'ou, Charlez," Olivia smiled warmly then pulled her wrist away from him and shooed him towards the door. Charles turned and closed the door behind him with a smile on his lips. Olivia drummed her long dark fingers on Charles desk as she peered into the small box. After scanning it intently with her uncovered eye, she reached in and daintily pulled out a long strip of black velvet. She turned to Dawn, "Reez oop 'our 'ead, cheeld," she ordered as she slowly stepped to Dawn. Not stopping until she was standing right between Dawn's wide stretched thighs. The trim of Charles' blouse swung loosely right below Dawn's nose. She caught her first scent of this dark woman, her musk flooded Dawn's nostrils like a breaking crest out of the darkness of a storm. Dawn inhaled deeply, puffing her chest as she closed her gray-green eyes. "Eree good, cheeld," Olivia smiled as she enclosed the thick velvet over Dawn's eyes, quickly securing it to her head with a knot that pressed the velvet tight to Dawn's head. The darkness enveloped Dawn's awareness as her sight was robbed from her. Her body seemed to melt into an unknown comfort within the inky confines of the velvet. Dawn's lips parted slightly, the velvet, and the overwhelming aroma that was Olivia were burning Dawn's very soul with sensuality. Dawn's ears noticed a slurping noise, her nostrils burned with Olivia's presence, the skin of her cheek was tingled with a light brush of Charles' blouse. It seemed that every nerve in her entire being was rising to the surface, searching to replace her lost sight. Dawn's parted lips were split wide; she almost coughed in surprise as two long fingers were thrust like daggers past her teeth to rake themselves over her tongue. Her tongue lit on fire with the flavor she was inhaling dripped off those fingers. She clamped her lips down around them quickly and sucked, rolling her tongue over their surface, devouring the acrid sweetness of Olivia. "Yeeesss," Olivia purred slowly as she with drew her fingers from Dawn's mouth. She ran her slick fingers and palm over Dawn's cheek as she turned and stepped back to the desk. Dawn heard her rummaging with something a few feet away and she quickly licked her lips clean. She could feel her own juices creeping towards a boil within her belly at the taste lingering on her tongue. Dawn heard the soft pad of feet coming closer to her. She could feel the heat off Olivia's body as she rounded Dawn. She could smell that familiar scent as she imagined those long dark legs moving past her shoulder and turn behind her. She heard Charles' shirt ruffle a bit behind her head. Then she felt it, coarse and rough over her milky shoulder. She felt two hands pulling the rope across her skin; she shuddered and felt her nether lips dampening. Olivia pulled the rope so that it ran from her left shoulder betwixt her breasts and down to her hip. Then it circled around her hip and dipped over one cheek, pushed and pulled by long fingers it ran its coarseness between the meeting of her cheeks and under her. The rope felt like a blazing snake on her skin. Olivia was careful to keep it pressed to her skin at all times, so she could feel its every fiber running its slow course over her igniting skin like kindling to its slow burn. Dawn sighed. Olivia licked her lips as she wrapped both arms around Dawn's waist pulling the rope through, making sure that the rope pulled one half of her lips wide and pressed them tight to her groin. She could not help but lick the back of dawn's neck as she drew the thin rope up across her tummy. Dawn gasped; her mouth was open as her body was going insane as the woman drug the rope up to cross itself between her breasts. "Queeite, sloot," Olivia hissed into her ear, "Thees eez not for 'our pleeasure!" Olivia warned sternly, but she would not stop dragging the rope over dawn's skin. Dawn was out of breath and trembling as the rope found its way over her right shoulder. Her mouth went dry as it softly looped beneath her hair and coiled around her neck before spilling down her spine. Olivia watched her quarry intently as she drug the rope between her legs once more. Tying a secure knot, perfect placement over Dawn's clit. Olivia held the rope out a bit, then let the rope spring back into place with its tension like a weak bowstring. Dawn felt the hard, round knot slam against her pulsing clit. She held her head back at the sensation, which only pulled the rope tighter, grinding the knot into her throbbing flesh more fully. Dawn trembled with pleasure. The rope encapsulated her body, focusing her every nerve on the pleasure. She could feel the rope soaking her nectar like a sponge and she moaned, "Oooooohhhhhhh!" Olivia slapped her hard across the ass with an open palm cutting her moan short. "Damn 'ou leetle sloot!" She shouted. Ee deed not geeve you permeeshun!" Dawn bit her bottom lip and clenched every muscle in her body tight trying to control herself. She was exploding, and there was nothing she could do about it. She had never felt so free in her entire life. Her skin was on fire; the rope was driving her over the edge of sanity. That torturous knot was pressing its rough surface hard to her fevered flesh, her every heartbeat massaging it, sucking it harder to her. Her mind raced, she was trying to think of anything to push the rope's caress from her mind. However, it was a futile effort, her mind's control of her body was usurped by her aching clit. Her body was losing its battle; the tide of release was quickly overtaking her like a child's pile of sand on a beach. The wave hit and washed over her, her resolve washed away she moaned louder than she had ever before as her body shook violently in her bonds. Olivia stood up and padded past Dawn as she gasped and tried to catch her raged breath. As Dawn's senses began to recover a bit, she felt and heard a new sensation. Olivia cracked a small braided cat-o'-nine tails across her hardened nipple. Dawn shrieked, more from surprise than from pain. Somehow, it was tantalizing her nerves rather than inflicting harm. Olivia stepped close to Dawn, placing a foot either side of Dawn's spread and quivering thighs. Dawn felt the trim of Charles blouse brush against her nose, which was filled with the heavy scent of Olivia. "Shoo mee w'eet 'ou want sloot!" Olivia hissed coldly. Dawn needed no words of command; she was desperate to please, to share herself with this woman. She thrust her nose under the shirt and tilted er head. The ropes tugged tighter as she stretched with her tongue. Her eyes removed from service to her, he followed her scent to that dark mysterious sex she so desired. The knot dug deep into her clit as her stretching tongue found its goal. Dawn locked her lips hard around Olivia's clit and sucked. Her tongue darted in and out of the woman's thick curled fleece of Venus. Olivia threw her head back and growled a deep-throated satisfaction as Dawn worked her pussy with her mouth. Her free hand snared a fist full of crimson hair as if it were gold and pulled Dawn harder to her open desire. Misty Dawn & The Raven Ch. 8 "Fassster, sloot!" Olivia cooed as she landed a blow from the cat across Dawn's shoulders, the sound of leather biting flesh nearly drowned out the command. The braided pattern in bright red across Dawn's back set fire to her skin. Driving her tongue harder, she attacked Olivia's swollen clit. Circling it, the tip of her tongue exploring its every nerve and corpuscle. Her lips pulled, tugged, and inhaled the woman's clit in a frenzy. Dawn was lost in an effort to savor this woman. She ate Olivia's sex as if she was condemned and this was to be her last meal. Teeht grazed Olivia's swollen labia. Dawn's tongue was stretched to a new length in her desire to plunge deeper into Olivia's nectar. The taste of Olivia driving her on harder than the fast falling stokes of the cat on her back and top of her ass. Olivia could not believe the raw talent at their sex. Dawn was devouring her like she had been bred to pleasure a woman. She stopped pounding Dawn's flaming flesh and pressed the handle of the cat against the side of her head, as she had to hang on to Dawn's head with both hands to keep from toppling over as a powerful orgasm shook her thin dark frame. Olivia threw her head back in a gasping muted shriek. Dawn felt the flood of juices bathing her face as Olivia quaked on the end of her tongue. Feeling Olivia release sent a shudder through her pussy like liquid fire. To stifle her own scream she burrowed harder against Olivia's pussy. She drank her flood, lapping her viciously to capture every drop of her captor's release. Olivia jerked Dawn's head away from her sex, her fingers puling hard on crimson curls to gain her freedom from Dawn's attacking mouth. She held Dawn's face in her hands for a moment and watched as Dawn gasped for air, her lips, and chin glistening with Olivia's lust. "V-veeree g-good, cheeld," Olivia said in a halting voice as her body trembled. Dawn was breathing hard; her body was literally aching for release. Her muscles were tired from her position on her knees. Her clit was throbbing against the soaked knot. Her heart was beating as if it would explode within her chest and echoing in her ears. "M-m-m-ay I CUM!?!" Dawn panted as her body shook, and begged more than her trembling voice could give voice to. "CUM!" Olivia shouted. Dawn screamed in relief as she shook. She was trembling so hard in release that she fell onto her side; the movement of her muscles dug the rope hard against her sex causing her to explode again and again. Dawn could not focus on anything; her entire world was a continuous orgasm. She was shrieking ecstasy, lost in a sea storm of passion that racked her body from stem to stern. Olivia let Dawn explode for a moment before taking up a small curve bladed knife and cutting her bonds free. Dawn did not even feel the rope go slack. She only noticed when Olivia began to unwind it from her body. The tell tale markers of red, dented flesh smiling through as the rope was peeled from Dawn's flesh. Dawn shuddered again. Olivia let her calm a bit before kneeling beside her and slowly untying the velvet blindfold and releasing Dawn's fluttering gray-green eyes to the light. "Tank 'ou cheeld," Olivia whispered as she pulled Dawn's lips to her own in a long slow deep kiss. Dawn felt the feeling prickling its way back to her hands as she wrapped her arms around Olivia's neck to return the embrace. **** Olivia found Charles leaning on the gunnels and looking out to sea a short while later. Charles turned slowly and grinned a roguish grin, "Where is my jewel, captain?" he asked in a mocking tone. Olivia shook her head once and thrust tow thumbs into the belt that held Charles blouse from billowing around her in the wind as she replied, "Shee eez asleeep, shee needs eet," Olivia added with a grin as she stepped next to Charles to watch the waves. Misty Dawn & The Raven Ch. 9 Olivia leaned her elbows on the gunnel, the sea wind buffeting the hem of Charles' shirt over the full curve of her bottom as she scanned the horizon. Charles could not help but scan her body as she leaned on the rail. Her breasts swinging low against the loosely laced neck of the blouse, the soft collar flapping against her neck slowly in the breeze. Her long dark legs raising her ass high as she relaxed on the gunnel, the hem fluttering slightly with the wind. A half smile crossed Charles' lips, "It has been a long time Olivia," he said quietly. "Yeess," Olivia said turning her head and letting some tightly curled strands of hair blow over her cheek as she looked up at the Raven's master. "Wheere wees eet? Madagascar? Or was it Hormuz?" She asked with a smile. Charles grinned and wrapped an arm over her shoulders, "It was Hormuz, you were looting the Turks of the gulf for the Portuguese then I think." He did not mention the Persian rug that she undoubtedly still had in her own cabin, the one he had her rolled up in and tied as he through her into a long boat to make land with her. However, he could not suppress the spark of memory in his ice blue eyes. "Hormuz, it was, aye," Olivia smiled as she remembered that night and her carpet. The ancient Turkish tales of flying carpets had always amused her, but when one flies upon a carpet, they become so real. Her smile began to fade, as she looked into Charles' eyes, reminding her of that night so long ago. She turned her face back to the sea as she cursed under her breath. Despite how she enjoyed being plucked from the waves, and to see Charles once more, she above all wanted to return to The Witch, her one true love. That ship was her entire life; they were mated like mother and daughter to one another. They existed for and because of one another. What would she do without her ship, what is a captain without a ship? What is a ship without a captain? Her long fingers curled their sharp nails into her palms, but her dark complexion would not allow a trace of emotion to cross its surface. Though inside she felt, she was taking on water fast. Charles looked hard as she turned away from him; he pulled her close to him to comfort an old friend. Olivia ripped herself from his warm grasp and spun her bare heels on the deck, bringing a hard fist toward his face. Charles caught the fist like a tossed mango, he deflected the blow and held tight to her fist. Olivia was not through yet she tried lashing a long dark leg around his to topple him. Her ankle caught the back of his knee and his leg folded. Both fell hard to the deck as a result. Charles laughter echoed the loud thump on the hard wood of the deck. Olivia pulled her face away from his, but he pulled her chin round hard to lock his lips upon hers. Olivia felt Charles lips crush hers. She felt his powerful tongue pressing against her teeth impatiently. She felt his weight crushing her to the deck. She felt the smooth hard plank of the Raven cool against her uncovered cheek, the hem of Charles' shirt having folded up to expose her flesh. She felt strong hands gliding over her body, seizing and massaging her large breasts through the soft linen of the blouse. The tropical heat was welling up inside her despite her ill temper over the Witch. She pulled her mouth from Charles' lips and spat, "Deamn 'ou Charlez, deamn you!" Then she pulled him to her lips by the throat, her dark fingers shining through golden curls and light flesh. ***** Robbins looked over at the commotion across the decks, his eyes twinkled, and a toothless grin cracked his whiskered face. The rum bottle held it suspended in his sun raked hand as he stared at the sight of Olivia pressed to the deck by Charles' weight. Their heads locked in a desperate struggle of lust as they kissed hard. Their hands dancing over one another like killer bees scouring a town for heretics. He wet his parched and sun cracked lips with his tongue as he watched them writhe on the deck like a heap of serpents. With a trembling tread, he took his first step towards the pair, leading a circle of lustful sailors. His eyes anchored to the round dark curve of Captain Olivia's exposed cheek sprawled on the deck. Young Collins brushed up against him as they approached, like moths to the flame of desire itself. "Mr. Robbins," Collins hissed, "shouldn't we roust the men to their duties?" Robbins finally found the bottle with his lips as he elbowed the young fool in the ribs. "Ar, dis be the duty of men, Collins, you 'lubber!" Robbins hissed back, never taking his eyes off the spectacle. Collins did not respond, he just stopped in his tracks and let the master gunner continue his slow approach to the scene. He felt a heavy hand clap him on the shoulder as some others passed, following Robbins lead. He watched as his captain pulled the neck of the blouse wide enough to tear, spilling Olivia's breasts to the open sky. Charles instantly covered one dark peak with his lips, falling upon it with all the subtlety as a jungle cat would a fledgling. Olivia arched her back into the assault and moaned to the wind. Collins felt his own tide rising with the sea wind as the crowd gathered around the pair obscuring his view. Shaking his head, he turned his flushed cheeks and looked off to the far horizon with his back to the semicircle of enflamed pirates. ***** Olivia knew that a crowd was gathering. She felt the pistol grind into her flesh through the sundered blouse as Charles relentlessly attacked her breast, his tongue raking over her peaked nipple like a full broad side. Her fingers were digging deep into his skin beneath his golden curls, holding his mouth tightly too. His hands were all over her, scouring for loot. She knew he would not rise up to let her claws at his belt, only his weight pressing against her awoken flesh, crushing her to the deck. The barrel of her pistol, pinned between them like an iron parody of man flesh, just toying with the tip of her sex. "Deamn eend Bleest 'ou, Charlez! 'Ou soon oov a beetch!" Olivia spat through gritted teeth, fighting back a moan for mercy, which she knew did not exist in his soul. He was enjoying her far too much to relent now. He wanted her to beg, and she was not about to, at least not in view of his crew. He worked his body fully between her thighs, to push the pistol harder and more direct to her. Her one eye popped open and she gasped as she planted both feet flat on the deck and lifted the pistol to his muscled stomach. The barrel pressed hard against her glistening lips as she bucked into Charles. Then her eye revealed the crowd that surrounded her. Like a fresh coal on the fire, the sight of an old drunken pirate leering at her at the head of a ring of cutthroats, pushed her inflamed flesh to higher degrees, bursting into an internal inferno of liquid heat. The hoard of eyes washed over her skin like waves on the shore. Cresting and breaking over her, relenting, sinking, receding, and cresting once more. Their eyes tantalizing her body like two score of hands in hovering caress. Olivia gnashed her teeth, closed her eyes, and pushed herself into Charles' overwhelming prescience; devouring her breast, pinching her uncovered nipple, and pressing that damnable barrel to her hungry, clutching hull. She could feel the swelling wave of her own restless tide rising to the moon deep in her depths. Her breath was heavy and quick, she was melting her honey to the cold steel of the pistol when all was shattered. "Sail Ahoy, a'starb'rd!" Young Collins shouted over his turned shoulder to the throng. The Spyglass still raised to his eye. He alone had turned away from Olivia's defeat to his duties. A smile almost graced his young lips, satisfied with himself at having spared two officers from making a mocking spectacle of themselves. Charles leapt from Olivia in an instant at Collin's call. His bare stomach glistened in the low dipped sun with the evidence of Olivia's desire there for all to see. He smacked Robbins up side the head as he landed on his feet. "All hands on deck!" He barked. The throbbing pressure beneath his belt pushed aside by his mind. Charles pushed himself roughly through the dissipating ring of dogs. "Fazul!" He shouted, as he stomped across the deck towards Collins, his eyes straining to the horizon of flaming azure. He ripped the glass from the young man's grip and put it to his own cold blue eye. ***** Olivia shook on the deck, Charles' weight lifted and the wind alone flowing over her skin like iced water, despite the heat of the setting sun. She was panting and her legs were squeezed tight together, her sex still reaching for fulfillment. Her tide broken and sunk without release, she pounded the deck with a fist trying to regain her composure in the wake of her denial. She tried pushing herself up to stand and seek Charles out, to attend to the proper duties of a captain, when she came face to face with the leering Robbins. "If'n you be in need o' some assistance, cap'n..." Robbins breathed a cloud of rum into her face, his hoarse voice cracked with heavy lust. The blow of Olivia's fist crashing upon Robbins jaw could be heard across the deck, despite the rush of sailors to their stations. "Ee t'ink not, 'ou fool smeeleeng doog!" Olivia hissed as she stepped off towards Charles, her foot treading heavily on Robbins soiled trouser crotch as she passed in perfect indignity. She stormed like a dark cloud on a gale across the deck, cutting through the swarming crew of pirates like a cutlass through a giblet. As she reached Charles' side she pulled the shirt closed, and adjusted the pistol in her belt. Charles felt her approach, he had seen the ship, and it was in a state of disarray. There was a frown on his brow as he offered the glass to Olivia's approach. A dark fist struck the glass from his grasp as she stepped forward. Charles turned his attention to her, and watched her as the glass was jerked to her eye. She stepped forward, until her thighs brushed the gunnel. Charles could almost see the fires of hell smoking around her head as the wind tugged at her long, tightly wound locks. "'Ot are dose fools doeeng?!?" She demanded at long last. Charles took half a step behind her and spoke as gently as he could, "They be searchin' a new captain, and neglectin' to the Witch, lass." Charles slowly reached to put a hand on her bared shoulder, but Olivia shrank from it with venom. Spinning from his grasp and shouting to his hands, "Heard a'starbr'd, 'ou doogs!" She shouted raising the glass high in the air to emphasize her orders. Charles glanced behind him to find Fazul who looked straight into Charles' face. Charles nodded, and Fazul instantly broke the air over the deck with his whistle's cry orchestrating the Raven to dance a different direction, the sails rippling in response to the wheel. Olivia stomped her way to Charles' cabin. He watched her until the door was slammed home with a crushing bang before he turned to find Fazul. Stepping up to him, he pulled on the giant's shoulder, "Fazul," he said softly, "keep an eye on her. Let me know any situation that might arise. Keep the men ready, but don't open the gun ports, we don't know what to expect here. In addition, keep your eye on Collins; I want to know here he is. I have to attend to Captain Olivia." With that, he stepped away, not even waiting to watch the obligatory, tattooed nod and bow from his first mate. ***** Dawn awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright at the sound of the door pounding itself to the jam. Her dream of rolling fields of emerald shattered with a bang. Her ears were still ringing and trying to attain the conscious realm when they were stung, "Geet 'oot 'ou sloot!" Olivia flew to the desk and pulled open a drawer, thrusting her hand into it she whipped out a pair of Charles' pistol and spilled them on to the desk. "Geet oot!" She spat again as she fumbled with a horn. Dawn was still trying to decide if this were an unwelcome nightmare, or cold reality. "Pardon, me, captain," Dawn began softly as she slipped from the bed. Olivia's head whipped to face her for the first time, her eye flaming with a hate and brimstone. Dawn quickly lowered her lashes to keep from losing herself in that one wild eye. She was however frozen, not knowing if she should run from the room or move to comfort the woman before her. "Ee seed, Geet oot!" Olivia hissed like a viper and slammed a fist upon the desk with a boom. "Yes, mum," Dawn's voice barely above a whisper as she retreated tot he door. As she reached for the handle it was jerked from her grasp, the door burst open and Charles strode through. His powerful arm swimming past her and ushering her out of the cabin, pulling the door shut behind her. "Olivia," Charles barked once the door shut behind them. One eye looked up from the barrel of a pistol as she poured a measure of powder to the gun. It shot back down as she fumbled with a tear of wad. Charles stepped to the far side of the desk and leaned over it, two hands pressing ten fingers upon the wooden surface. "Captain, Olivia," he began again, a bit more forceful, "the Witch needs its mistress to regain control over her passions." Olivia slammed the pistol loudly to the desk, "Coontrol o'er mee passeeons?" She demanded, her dark one eye spitting venom into the cold blue of Charles'. "Eend Ee soopose dees ees soometheng 'ou know mooch 'bout, aye?" Olivia was fuming. Her flesh had just been repelled at the very pinnacle of victory, her forces still in drying retreat on her inner thigh; and she had just seen her ship bobbing like a carelessly discarded cork upon the waves, still floating, but not receiving proper care due the Witch's station. In addition, Charles' statement on the deck was right, as she knew he had been, there was a squabble for power above the Witch's decks. Pierre or Ibarguen would, if not already be in her cabin and trying to put the ship to rights. One of them would be dead, or there would have been a compromise making one mate to the other for the good of the ship. However, if the dim-witted, Basque thought a bargain for power with Pierre would lead to anything but his own murder he was more stupid than she ever gave him credit for in the past. Charles looked long into Olivia's dark eye and he watched as a cloud of cold realization wash over her face, her dark skin paling suddenly. He did not speak, just trying to read her mind by her actions. Time seemed to stand still on the waves for a long, silent moment. As he watched her face, her eye locked upon his own; but it did not see him or his cabin. Her mind had flown deep within itself in thought. However, Charles had already guessed what was flowing on the riptide within her skull, and his face revealed no trace of understanding, repressing an unseen scowl. Olivia's eye flashed, a new flame blazed from deep inside its walnut depths. "Charlez," Olivia hissed, her voice coated thick with hatred and malice. Not hot and angry; but calm, calculated, and determined. "Aye," Charles answered slowly, an eyebrow half cocked in anticipation. "Charlez, dey teed to keel mee," Olivia hissed. Charles nodded slowly and listened to the hypnotic voice of the serpent, "Ee eem a fool, Charlez. Pierre moost 'ave noot allow'd Ibarguen to week mee, when da storm approached. Bee da teem Ee was oon deck, theengs were een a retcheed state. Deen, a weeve heet oos, breakeeng heegh o'er da deeck. Ee dought Ibarguen sleeped, eend keecked mee o'er da seed." Olivia through both hand s up in the air, as rage welled slowly inside her. "Eet wos deir pleen to keel mee!" Then stretching hard over the desk she pulled Charles powerful shoulders toward her, "'Ou moost help mee geet mee sheep back, Charlez!" A broad grin creased Charles' lips as she finished her soliloquy. Olivia caught the sparkle of a devious plan flicker and burst with Charles' ice blue eyes. "They will need repairs, Olivia. There is only one place that can give it to them. I'll have Fazul change our course immediately..." he paused letting the pause hang in the air as he devoured her torn blouse displayed cleavage for a long moment. Olivia's head pulled back, she knew he was about to lay down his price. She could pay anything; no, she would pay anything he demanded. She had to get her ship back. Somehow she knew what his price would be, she eyed him coldly in the silence, like waiting for the trapdoor to open on the gallows. She dared not speak, hoping to keep his price as affordable as possible. "Well, Olivia," Charles said with a wicked grin, and a hellish his, "these things I could do, for you." Then he pulled back and folded his arms across his broad chest, "If I might see if you still have the passion of captains..." His voice fell silent as he regarded her before listing his unwavering price...