Carla’s eyes widened. He wouldn’t! He couldn’t! But he did. Slowly he pushed the lengthy fruit into her heated sheath. She gasped as he began to fuck her with the long, thick banana. But to her shock she couldn’t help herself. She met the banana’s inward push with an upward thrust of her hips. Her breath was coming in fierce little spurts as her carnal desires overcame her. “More! More!” she begged him, and laughing once again, he thrust the banana faster and faster until she cried out and her creamy juices flowed down the leathery skin of the fruit.
“Did that help, little pirate whore?” he asked her.
“You’re horrible!” Carla told him. “And I’m not a whore. I am Captain Raven, queen of the Spanish Main.”
“Who just allowed herself to be fucked with a banana by the king of the pirates,” he replied. “That’s what they used to call me, you know,” Hawke told her. He frigged her briefly with the banana, leaving it in her vagina.
“Take it out!” she said.
“Nay, wench, I won’t. At least not yet. It will keep you nice and primed for my cock. The banana was just to take the edge off your lust. My cock will give you more pleasure than you’ve ever attained.”
“The king of the pirates,” Carla said slowly. “Aye, I have heard talk of you, but not a great deal, and certainly not by name. When you leave these environs, you are quickly forgotten. Did you come back just to sell the island?”
He smiled an amused smile. “Nay, I came back for my treasure, wench. A dukedom requires gold if it is to survive.” Then, to her surprise, he withdrew the banana from her vagina. “I have had second thoughts,” he said. “If I allow the banana to keep you open, you will not be as sensitive to the thickness of my cock when I fuck you. Now I am of a mind to taste you, wench.” He knelt before her, and his tongue snaked forward as his two thumbs peeled her nether lips apart.
Carla’s head spun as he tongued her sensitive flesh. She had never known a lover like this man. He was mysterious, and he was frightening, yet she couldn’t wait to have his big cock buried deep inside her. She didn’t think she had the imagination to have brought such a man into her fantasy, but she wasn’t unhappy to have him here. “Oh, yes, your grace,” she moaned. “I’ll do whatever you desire,” Carla promised. She was close now to perfection, and then he suddenly stopped.
“I find that I am hungry,” he remarked. Reaching up, he began to free her from the restraints. “Nestor should be long finished with your maidservant. Call her, and send to your cook for a hearty meal.”
“Finish me!” Carla begged him. “I am desperate with my longing for you!”
“And I am desperate for some food, wench. More so than my need to fill your eager cunt with my cock,” Hawke said.
“You are a bastard!” she practically screamed. He had aroused a fierce sexual need in her, and now was more interested in a good beefsteak than satisfying her?
His hand flashed out, grabbing her short dark curls again. His mouth pressed cruelly against her in a punishing kiss. “You will be fucked, wench, but in my good time, not yours. Have I not satisfied you already twice?”
“Nay! Nay! It was not enough!” Carla protested.
“Well, it will have to be for now, wench,” he told her. “Now see to my food!”
Ping! Ping! Ping! The Channel is now closed, the syrupy voice cooed.
“Shite! Shite! Shite!” Carla almost shrieked as she found herself once more in her own bed, the television screen filled with snow. She was so hot to fuck right now, she was close to screaming. She got up and went to her dresser, then dug down in the bottom drawer beneath the underwear she rarely wore and pulled out her old vibrator. Its batteries were dead, and though she searched throughout the entire house, there wasn’t a D cell to be found. Flinging herself back on the bed, Carla cried with her frustration, but there was nothing for it. Aching with her need, she curled up and finally found a restless sleep.
“You look like hell,” her friend Tiffany Pietro d’Angelo said the next afternoon when she stopped over to see if Carla needed anything from the grocery store. “What’s happened?” She plunked herself in the den’s oversized chair. “Talk to me, Carla!”
“It’s my Channel fantasy . . . ,” Carla began.
“Yeah?” Tiffany looked curious. She knew about Carla’s pirate fantasy.
“All I ever wanted to do was play pirate queen,” Carla started. “I grew up watching those old Errol Flynn pirate movies on television. For years I’ve been a female version of those parts that he played while in the Channel. Gallant. Honorable. A great lover. Always eluding the authorities, yet always in the right. A couple of months ago I began to get bored with the whole scenario, but there really was no other fantasy with which I wanted to replace it. So I added something to my fantasy. A small uninhabited secluded island I named Amorata Cay.
“I even created one of those beautiful Caribbean dwellings with open porches going around all four sides of the house. I have a small staff of bondmen and -women as servants. I didn’t want slaves. And instead of sailing the Spanish Main taking merchant ships, I’ve been going to my house on my island just to relax. But then last night he showed up claiming that Amorata Cay was his, not mine.”
“Who is he?” Tiffany was intrigued.
“His name is Julian Hawke, and he used to be called the king of the pirates. A couple of years ago, according to him, he inherited a dukedom back in England, so he cleaned up his act. He went home, took a wife, and sired an heir, and his duchess is expecting a second child. He came back to the Caribbean to sell Amorata Cay. Being a duke, he says, is expensive. He says he has a document to prove his claim,” Carla said.
“Just how did you think up this island?” Tiffany wanted to know.
“I won it in a card game in Jamaica,” Carla said. “The guy who said it was his had lost everything that night. He wagered the island in a last bet. Hawke claims the guy was his caretaker. He’s willing to take his documents to Governor Morgan to have them authenticated. Then he’s going to sell Amorata Cay to the highest bidder.”
“So buy it,” Tiffany said in a practical tone. “What’s the big deal? It’s your fantasy. He wants to sell. You want to buy. End of story.”
“Tiffy, I did not imagine this guy in my fantasy. He is definitely not of my creation, so how the hell is he there? Did anything like this ever happen to you?”
Her companion shook her head in the negative. Then she said, “Maybe altering your fantasy after so many years screwed with something. Are you certain you didn’t think up this guy, Carla? And even if you didn’t, you can get rid of him by purchasing the island from him. Isn’t that easy enough?”
“He insists his papers be proven real,” Carla said. “And when they are, he did say I could buy the island from him, but only under one condition. I have to do everything and anything that he wants until the deal is concluded.”
Tiffany’s eyes lit up. “Ohh, sounds kinky and fun,” she opined.
“You have no idea,” Carla said. “You cannot begin to imagine.”
“Tell me everything,” Tiffany replied, leaning forward, an avid expression on her pretty face. “If it’s as good as some of the adventures you’ve shared with me before, then it has to be terrific. Don’t leave out a single detail, girlfriend.”
“Well,” Carla began, “you know how my pirate queen persona has always been the dominant? Not this time, sweetie. He is the master, and he is obviously expert at it.” Then she went on to explain in detail to her friend what had happened the previous night while she was in the Channel.
Tiffany’s blue eyes grew wide with surprise and then glazed with shock. “A banana?” she gasped. “He screwed you with a banana? Omigod! Omigod! Omigod! What did it feel like? Did you come?”
“It felt smooth, a bit leathery, and while firm, not the hard sensation of a stiff cock,” Carla answered her. “And yeah, I came.”
“What did it feel like when he did you?” Tiffany inquired.
“He hasn’t yet,
” Carla said, “but frankly, I can’t wait till he does. He is hung like a bull, Tiffy. His dick has got to be between ten and eleven inches in length. He’s got selfcontrol down to a science. He never lost it. He remained long and soft while he was teasing me. He’s thick to begin with, so I can only imagine what he’s going to be like fully aroused.” She sighed. “I don’t know if I can take much more of his torture.”
Tiffany sighed too. “He sounds yummy,” she said. “I love a dominant. All my sultans and caliphs are very dominant.” Then she sat up straight. “You’re going back tonight, aren’t you? You can’t not go back, Carla.”
“Of course I’m going back,” Carla said. “I want him out of my fantasy, and if that means I have to play his game until he lets me purchase Amorata Cay, then so be it.”
“Do you think he’ll fuck you tonight?” Tiffany wondered.
“He’d better! I woke up just burning for it. My vibrator was dead in the water, so get me some D cells at the store,” Carla replied.
Tiffany giggled. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But it really is funny. The Channel closes for the night. You’re hotter than a firecracker, and your vibrator won’t work. Could it have gotten any worse?” She giggled again, throwing Carla an apologetic look.
“Yeah, in retrospect it was funny,” Carla said, “but the reality at the time was very unpleasant, Tiffy, so get me those D cells so I can at least remedy any lack on the part of the king of the pirates,” she said and chuckled. “I still would like to know how the hell this guy turned up in my fantasy. I swear I never imagined anyone like him.”
Tiffany stood up. “I’ll get your batteries,” she said. “Tiffy, not a word to anyone about this,” she warned her friend.
“Hey, the only time they’ve heard of your pirate fantasy was from you,” Tiffany responded. “I only talk about my fantasies to you.” Then, with a wave of her hand, she was gone off to the market. When she returned an hour later, she left the bag with the batteries on the kitchen counter for her friend, as she saw Carla was sleeping soundly on the couch in the den, which was off the kitchen.
It was the house phone that woke Carla. Dragging herself up from sleep, she fumbled for the land line they kept connected for emergencies. “ ’Lo?”
“Hey, babe, greetings from Paris,” she heard Rick’s voice say.
Carla was immediately awake. “It’s not Monday. Are you all right?”
“Hey, can’t a man call his wife from Paris?” Rick teased. “I miss you.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to call,” Carla responded.
“You got a hot date?”
“I was taking an afternoon nap,” she admitted, glancing at the wall clock and seeing it was close to eight p.m.
“No ER today?”
“I decided to take a couple of days off,” Carla told her husband. “No ER. No husband. Just a nice empty, quiet house, some wine, and all the Mallomars I can eat.”
“So that’s why you didn’t want company?” he replied.
“That’s why,” Carla said. “I’ve got so many days racked up now, they’ve been asking me to jettison some of them. This trip of yours came at the perfect time. So how’s Paris, and how was Vienna? Did Ryan complete the transaction?”
“Paris is French, the food too rich, and the wines good. Vienna was Viennese, the food too rich, and the wines good. Ryan got his little company bought. Everyone was happy. Now he’s talking with a guy here who makes reproductions of old porcelain knobs and handles. We’re off to London in two more days.”
“You’re sure getting the grand tour,” she told him. “I think I’m a little envious.”
“Don’t be. It’s all very dull business, but I will say Ryan travels first-class, and he doesn’t waste any time. Hates being away from Ashley and the kids, especially that little girl of theirs. Why is it that men are such mushes over daughters?”
“Don’t know,” Carla answered. Then she said, “Hey, it’s way after midnight in Paris. Don’t you have to get up and do business tomorrow?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” Rick said. “I needed to hear your voice, babe.”
“Awww,” Carla said as she felt her heart expand. “Well, you’ve heard it. Now get into bed, and go to sleep, sweetie. You’ll be home in a few days, and I’ll take a day just for you then, okay?”
“Okay,” he agreed, and she could hear the happiness in his voice. “ ’Night, babe!” He made a couple of kissing noises.
“’Night, sweetie,” Carla replied, and kissed back. Then the line went dead, as the tall clock in the front hall struck eight p.m. Carla considered, and then she decided that she was hungry. She was going to eat and take a shower before she went upstairs to enter the Channel. Given her adventure last night, who knew what would happen tonight?
She fixed herself a nice rare burger, topping it with cheese, tomato, and Indian relish. She sat down in the den with it, a small plate of endive, and a glass of red wine. Turning on Headline News, she caught up on the day’s events. An improving economy with the stock market up just enough, and decent weather nationwide. Finished with her meal and the news, Carla washed the frying pan, stored it away, and put her glass and dishes in the dishwasher. After checking to be sure everything was locked and secure, she went upstairs to shower.
The warm water sluicing over her body felt good. She was so far from being a kid that it had begun to hurt. And even the perfect form she took in the Channel wasn’t immune afterward to aches and pains in her real world. She lathered shampoo into her short dark curls. She was lucky. Neither her mother nor her grandmother had ever gone gray or white. Both had always had hair as black as the day they were born, and she seemed to have those same genes. There wasn’t even a hint of a light hair on her head.
Refreshed from both her meal and her shower, Carla toweled off before getting into her unmade bed. Well, she thought, let’s see if we pick up where we left off. Her thumb pressed down hard on the remote’s A button, and she immediately found herself back where she had been when the Channel had closed the previous night. Arms and legs bound again to the posts of her bed, she focused on a naked Hawke, who was just finishing his meal at the little round mahogany table across the bedroom.
He was certainly a good-looking specimen of masculinity. Broad shoulders and chest. Sturdy arms and legs. Big feet and hands. Flat belly. That lovely long dick with its pendulous companions. Carla wondered what delicious torture he had in mind for her tonight. She hadn’t decided yet if she should be thrilled or frightened of his presence. After all, he was not of her creation, so what exactly was he? I can always say ‘Fantasy end,’ she told herself. If it gets too rough for me, I can stop it. That’s the rule in the Channel.
Then she felt his icy blue eyes on her.
“You have stopped complaining, wench,” he said, standing up and coming over to sit on the bed. Reaching out, he pinched one of her nipples hard. “My vessel is now in Half-Moon Cove. I sent Nestor out to bring back a lovely selection of toys for us to play with, my pretty. I think you will like them.” He twisted the little dildo in her asshole. “I think we shall replace this with something a bit sturdier,” Hawke told her.
“How about that fine cock of yours?” Carla suggested to him.
“Nay, wench, we are not quite ready for that yet, but I am pleased to see how eager you are for me.” He withdrew another dildo from the velvet-lined basket that had been placed on the nightstand. It was ivory, as was the smaller dildo, but ridged and at least four inches in length. “This one, I think.” Then he dipped the instrument into a bowl of scented oil, coating it lavishly as he used his other hand to withdraw the little ivory thumb.
“Ohh.” Carla’s dark eyes widened. “That looks delicious, your grace.”
“You are too eager for it,” he said and chuckled. “First that tempting bottom of yours needs a bit of priming, for I see its color has faded. Just a bit though, wench.” He stood up, and she saw a thick hazel switch in his hand. He began to whip her vigorously with it, the b
lows regular and spaced apart just enough so that her flesh began to quickly tingle.
“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Carla shrieked as the stinging and burning spread across her skin.
“Tell me you want to be punished,” he demanded. “Tell me that you are a very naughty girl and need the chastisement that I can give you.”
“Ohh, I am very naughty, your grace, and I thank you for teaching me how to behave with my betters,” Carla said, knowing it was exactly what he wanted to hear from her. The look of satisfaction in his cold eyes told her she would now be rewarded.
Hawke smiled, dropped the switch, and, taking the second dildo from the bowl of oil, slowly inserted it where the first had been. He twisted it several times, and she gasped with surprise at the sensation. “There, wench. Does that please you?”
“If it pleases you, your grace, aye!” she told him.
“It does please me,” he responded. “In fact, you please me far more than my duchess. She does not like to be whipped, and she has not taken to the cock well at all, I fear. I got her enceinte on our wedding night. After that, she avoided her duty to me unless I forced the issue. When she proved fertile so quickly, I let her be until two months after my heir was born. Then I locked her up with me for three days, pleasuring myself mightily while she wept and prayed. But I got her with child again. A man needs an heir and a spare at the least.
“Her reluctance to keep me content is why I decided to come back to the Caribbean to sell Amorata Cay. I will find myself a mistress when I return home. I don’t suppose you would be interested in filling that position, wench? We haven’t fucked yet, but you have pleased me well so far. I suspect you will be a most glorious fuck, for you are quite a delicious little whore.”
Guilty Pleasures Page 3