by Simon Archer
I looked past her to Mary, who smiled at me and just nodded.
Ligeia continued before I could say anything, her eyes still closed. “I came to love him as I said, and I thought he loved me. Perhaps…” She swallowed hard. “Perhaps he still does, but after his betrayal, I could not go back to him. I wanted to tear out his throat and taste the heat of his blood as he died in my arms. Only you two restrained me. I did not want to be the one to break thy word.”
“Thank ye for that,” I told her and reached out to put one large hand comfortingly on her knee. “Though I’d not have blamed you if ye had.”
She opened her eyes and gave me a tight-lipped smile. “I do not wish to disappoint ye, Captain.”
“I am happy with you,” I said with a smile.
She hadn’t shifted her leg, and I hadn’t taken my hand away. Her skin was cool under my touch and soft for all its scaly texture. Our eyes met, and she returned the smile briefly before looking away. A moment later, she placed one of her hands atop mine.
Mary softly hummed to herself as she continued to massage and caress Ligeia’s back, either oblivious to or completely ignoring the silent exchange the siren and I shared.
“Is there anything I can do for ye, lass?” I asked to break the quiet.
Ligeia’s jaw worked, and she fidgeted a bit. “Aye, Captain,” she said. “There is.” Her eyes dropped to look at where her hand rested atop mine that sat on her leg, just above the knee. “Wouldst thou lay with me and help me forget my time with William Markland?”
24
Mary let out a sudden cackle that startled the siren who pulled her hand away and twisted around to eye the witch. I just closed my eyes for a moment and shook my head.
“Mary,” I warned, “can you not contain yourself?”
“‘Tis not that, my Captain,” she replied with a shake of her head. “I just thought that ye could certainly make our dear Ligeia easily forget her former paramour.”
“Easily?” There was a note of playful challenge in the siren’s question, or at least that’s what I hoped.
I let my eyes roam over Ligeia’s slim, naked form as my nostrils caught a momentary hint of her excitement. Her body fairly trembled beneath Mary’s hands, now stilled on the siren’s shoulders.
“I’m more than happy to oblige ye, lass.”
Her head turned back, and her dark eyes met mine. “There will be no issue between us?” she asked, gesturing to Mary and me.
“Heaven’s no,” Mary exclaimed. “I’m far from being a jealous soul, especially with as much man as Captain Bardak be.” The witch grinned. “Why don’t the two of ye hash this out further? I’ll see to the discomfort of the prisoner.”
With that, she slid from the bed and rose to her feet before walking out, casting a wink over her shoulder at the two of us.
I rolled my eyes and snorted. “Aye, lass, there’ll be no problem. My own folk are not so likely to have only a single mate. Our men and women alike often have a stable of regular companions.”
“Ah,” Ligeia said softly, then gazed at me with a close-lipped smile as she drew herself up a bit, arching her back to give her small breasts more prominence. “Will ye join me, Captain?”
“Aye, lass,” I replied as I stood and kicked the chair aside.
The siren watched me silently as I approached the bed, then reached up and ran her hands over my bare skin, fingers tracing the ridges of muscle that defined my stomach. Her touch was cool and intoxicating, and a strange tingle followed her caress.
I stood still and watched her, my heartbeat thumping harder in my chest as she looked up at me and blinked her eyes. The sea-woman was strange and beautiful, with her long hair and deep, dark eyes. Her lips parted a little, and her gills flared.
“I can tell ye want me,” she murmured, soft and deep, her voice lilting slightly.
I nodded, my voice catching in my throat. “Sing for me,” I told her. “Sing as if you had your comb.”
Her eyes went wide as I joined her on the bed, and she nodded, opened her mouth, and began a soft, wordless melody that rose into the air and danced and swirled of its own accord. It pulled at my heart and my senses, reminding me of the beauty and terror that I’d witnessed in my long years sailing. Time seemed to slow as I reached out and ran my own thick fingers through her damp hair and smiled down at her.
The song called to me. I wanted to drown myself in her, sink into the depths without resisting and breath my last with her lips against mine. As I shifted about and settled on the bed, she squirmed into a kneeling position and rose to meet me, her voice trailing off as her lips met mine. Like Mary, Ligeia knew how to kiss me without injuring herself on my tusks.
My challenge was to return it without spilling my own blood on her vicious teeth.
The urgings of suicidal ecstasy faded into a torrent of desire. The kiss deepened, and I took the slim body of the siren into my arms. My hands stroked her skin, caressed the oddly silken roughness of her scales.
Ligeia gasped softly as I lightly brushed a hand across the gill slits in her ribs, and her hands gripped my arms. “Gently,” she whispered.
“Should I not?” I asked.
“Please do,” she answered. “They are… very sensitive. Be careful.” Her eyes lifted to mine once more, and she smiled, a more relaxed and fearsome look that exposed the glimmering white of her shark teeth.
I gave a nod. “Tell me if I hurt ye.”
A slightly mischievous look spread over her face. “A deal, Captain,” she murmured. “I get to bite you if you do something I do not like.”
“Sounds fair,” I said with a chuckle, “or ye could just tell me what ye like.” I ran a hand along her side down to her hip and let it rest there for a moment as she gazed into my eyes. She was so thin I could almost put both hands around her waist, but her muscles were as hard beneath those scales as an anchor line.
“I could,” she said, running a clawed fingertip across my pecs. “Or ye could show me what yon witch of yours likes.”
“Here, then,” I caught one of her hands and guided it down to where my manhood strained against the cloth of my pantaloons.
Once again, she let out a gasp as her fingers explored me through the soft cloth. “Bigger than William, thou art, Captain. Much bigger.” Her fingers curled as tight as they could around me, long enough to encompass my girth fully. “May I see?”
“Aye,” I said with a nod before lying back on my bed, arms folded behind my head to watch her as she began her work.
With nimble fingers, Ligeia undid my broad belt and the drawstring that held my pants tight around my hips. When she started to drag the cloth down, I arched my back and lifted up enough to let her free my heavy shaft. It sprang to attention at full mast.
Ligeia let out a hiss of surprise, then took me in her hands, the coolness of her fingers contrasting with the throbbing heat of my own flesh. I let out an involuntary groan of pleasure at that touch. She flashed me a small, knowing smile as my head dropped back into the pillows. As innocent as the siren played, she knew exactly what she was doing.
I was curious what tack she’d take, so I closed my eyes and gave the carnivorous, murdering songstress the trust she’d given to my crew and me. She wouldn’t hurt me, and even if she did, I was an orc. Our matings and play were considered by many of the other races to be violent conflict.
How little they knew.
The siren’s body was a cool presence across my legs as she stretched herself out against me. One of her long-fingered hands slowly stroked up and down along my shaft, tight enough to drag the skin along with it. While she did this, she slowly began to kiss along my thigh to my hip, before nuzzling into the thick, black tangle of tightly curled hair that sprouted around the base of my manhood.
Her breath tickled lightly, and she hummed softly before I felt the warm, wet touch of her tongue against my skin. I smiled to myself as she began a slow exploration of the veiny length of my member with lips and tongue and fingers be
fore nuzzling softly against my balls.
“Do you like this?” she asked in a soft, musical voice.
“I do,” I said huskily, my breath quickening along with my heartbeat. The hint of danger from her teeth combined with the touch of her lips and tongue like the caress of the sea all combined to send a delighted shiver up my spine. How long had Bill lasted when teased like this?
“Keep it up,” I growled.
“Hmmm,” she purred, “do you think that Mary would like to join us sometimes?” Ligeia planted a soft, chill kiss on the very tip of my erection before she straightened and straddled my thighs. Even as large as I was, she was leggy and flexible enough to do it easily. Her hands slid up over my belly and rested on my pecs.
“I believe she would, aye, that or have ye join us.” I chuckled. “My witch is a bit demanding in that regard.”
The siren laughed musically. “I did witness ye, remember?” she said as she leaned over me, stretching her body along mine to pin my swollen shaft between our bellies. My eyes opened to her face peering down at me. I smiled, and she did too.
“Touch me, Captain,” the siren whispered.
I didn’t answer with words. Instead, I moved my hands to her hips and slid them upwards, a light touch over her gills, then around to the front of her chest to caress and squeeze her small, firm breasts with their oh-so-pert nipples.
That drew another gasp of pleasure from her lips, and her gills flexed. I rubbed my rough-skinned thumbs over the swollen nubs, then lightly pinched them while she squirmed on top of me, teasing me with her entire supple body.
We continued like this for a few more minutes, teasing and rubbing one another. I kissed or nibbled any bit of her that came within reach of my mouth and kept my hands moving to caress and then tease her scaled skin.
“I think I am ready,” she said, at last, blinking both sets of her eyelids as she gazed down at me. Her skin was as flushed as I’d ever seen it, and warmer, too.
She wasn’t the only one. I moved my hands to her hips and guided her to lift up a bit. The siren moved easily and reached down with one clawed, webbed hand to guide me up against her nether folds.
I let Ligeia take the lead. She had mentioned the size of me compared to her previous lover, so I didn’t want to start off as vigorously as Mary and I had. She was eager, though, pressing down on me firmly until the tip was forced into her. Ligeia let out a whimper as it stretched her wide.
“Do you want to stop,” I asked as she froze for a moment, going so completely still it was almost startling.
The siren shook her head and closed her eyes, lowering herself further. Inch by excruciating inch, she took me into her silken tunnel, sometimes pausing for a breath, sometimes a moan, but finally, her hips pressed flush to mine. Once again, she went still and gave me a somewhat dazed look.
“How, Captain?” she asked. “How does one so small as Mary take all of this?”
“Ye’d have to ask her, lass,” I rumbled. “Are ye ready?”
“Aye, my Captain,” she replied, using the witch’s parlance. Then she began to rise and fall on me, her hips rolling a bit as she did.
Once more, I let my head fall back to let the siren lead. With one hand, I reached up to fondle her breasts while the other rested on one of her slim hips. As she began to move with more certainty, I responded by rolling my hips and arching a bit, rising up to meet her descent.
Slowly, we both picked up the pace, the sheer intensity of it carrying us to heights of passion that knew no bounds. Mary was like fire, hungry and insatiable, but Ligeia was like water, cool and mysterious, with boundless depths and the ability to adapt to anything… and adapt she did, too. My first climax caught us both by surprise, and I bucked my hips up hard with a roar.
That carried her over the edge as well, though she was unusually quiet for a songstress. Her body shuddered and trembled atop me then collapsed, hips grinding against mine.
I wrapped her in my arms as she rested, lifting my head a bit to nuzzle into her salt-smelling hair. “‘Twas good for ye, I hope,” I murmured after a few minutes of quiet.
Her only answer was a soft moan of assent. I grinned and let my hands wander her back.
“Shall I treat ye like I treat my witch?” I asked. “Do ye want that?”
Her head lifted, and she smiled easily. “Aye, my Captain,” she replied softly. “Show me the proper way for a lover to treat his love.”
I rolled her onto her back and pinned her even as she trapped me with those long, muscular legs. Her eyes were bright and fierce and hungry as she gazed up at me, straining a bit against my large hands as they held her wrists. She was still impaled on my manhood, and like any good orc, I was ready for more.
This time I took her with wild abandon, drawing out her voice in cries of pleasure as I rutted her. She took the top only the first time when we prepared ourselves for what was to come. The second time, we were face to face while I had my way with her. Next, she was on her hands and knees in proper orc fashion while I sated my own hunger on her lithe, powerful form.
Her own delight was evident in the moans of pleasure and the soft demands for more and more. For a time, just like my witch, my siren took all that I gave, but in the end, she, too, surrendered.
Ligeia, though, ended slightly ahead of Mary when she just couldn’t take any more. Her body was reduced to a quivering, mewling mass of bliss after the fifth time.
It would certainly be a challenge to bed the pair of them, but one I would readily accept.
25
Bloody Bill
The parley could have gone a lot better, but at least I made it off Bardak’s ship with my head still attached. Once I was out of easy sight of the orc’s watch, I allowed myself to perk up a bit. There was no need to let on to the damned sea-orc that I’d been expecting him for long enough to have sailed before his arrival, had I wished to.
Cerridwen’s discomfort was secondary to our plan and expected. Hopefully, The Hullbreaker’s crew wouldn’t abuse her too much. I didn’t expect they would, considering Skullsplitter’s reputation and all. The witch Mary, though, was a total wild card in this situation. She had been unexpected, and despite my protestations to the contrary, her hex did blind us to their exact time of arrival.
Crowds were light around the docks this late, but it was easy to drift along in the direction of my own ship. It was a shame that Cerridwen wouldn’t be warming my bed tonight. I let out a wistful sigh as I walked. Bloody inconvenient, this whole mess.
A handful of toughs were crowded around an alley and gave me the eye as I approached. They were Blue-bands, stevedores and shoremen who were down on their luck and decided to try their hands at strong-arming drunken sailors and extorting shopkeepers. Sad work, when pirates were almost always looking for able-bodied, lax-moraled recruits.
One of the group stepped out in front of me as I made to walk by. He was a burly ruffian, probably a head taller than me and nowhere near as pretty. His scarred face twisted in a scowl as he glared down at me and garbled something in a nearly unintelligible voice.
It probably meant something like, “Your gold or your blood,” or maybe I was a bit too poetic for these lubbers. I just arched one of my eyebrows and fixed the man with a steely gaze.
“‘Tis not the time nor the place, me hearties,” I said with a thin smile. “Like as not, ye don’t recognize me, an’ that’s a cryin’ shame.” How did these sons of bitches manage to miss the brace of pistols at my belt or the twin cutlasses? Sometimes I honestly believed that living on land made a man stupid.
One of the other fellows, a smaller man in a vest and breeches with a heavy cudgel in his hands, stepped forward and snarled, “An’ we don’t give a fuck, neither, dandy! Now hand over yer jink before we take it, an’ mind those hand cannons.”
“Really?” I shook my head and laughed as I drew both pistols as quick as lightning. With a thundering double-boom and a blast of smoke, I blew the big man and another Blue-band behind the clearer
-voiced bloke out of their boots. “I’m Bloody-fucking-Bill ye moron!”
The quick-draw was a skill I’d mastered early in my career as a pirate, and it had served me well despite the laughter of my peers. I was the fastest pirate alive with a flintlock pistol and no slouch with the cutlass, either. The guns dropped back on lanyards as I swept my blades free of their frogs before the two men I shot hit the cobblestones.
I had to give Mr. Cudgel some credit. He didn’t flinch or back down as two of his bully boys fell in a burst of smoke and thunder. “Get the bastard!” he bellowed and readied his weapon, while the other two charged me with long knives.
The thugs were clumsy and ill-prepared to deal with an experienced bloodletter, but they had spirit. Perhaps I’d just maim them. As the two rushed in, I spun and slashed, pirouetting like a dancer as my blades flashed out and left a spray of crimson in their wake. Both Blue-Bands fell away with cries of pain as they clutched the stumps of their right hands, the limbs and the knives they held landing somewhere behind me.
That left Mr. Cudgel. I grinned and pointed both cutlasses at the man as I said, “Perhaps ye may wish to reconsider yer line of work, me hearties.”
He glanced at the fallen men and grimaced as he studied me with the practiced eye of a street fighter. Four men had fallen in mere moments to only a few hard moves on my part. It wasn’t like Tarrant had much in the way of law enforcement on a good day, which made fights like this a bit more commonplace than in more civilized parts of the world.
The man weighed his options. His eyes darted from the two wounded men and back to me.
I winked at him, “Hurry it up, ye lubber. I ain’t got all night to dance with ye.”
Cudgel swore and threw down his club before raising both his hands. “Quarter,” he grumbled.
“Done.” I nodded and slung the blood off my cutlasses before replacing them in their frogs. “Easier than dying, aye?”