Shared by the Pirates

by Emily Tilton

  He pushed a little farther, and felt her maidenhead resist him. Evangeline’s eyes went wide, and she drew a sharp breath, her forehead creasing deeply. Philip put both his hands on her hips, then, looking down for a moment to see the wonderfully lewd sight of a stiff pirate prick about to deflower an earl’s daughter. His hard shaft, beneath the punished bottom-cheeks, had entered the girl’s sweet maiden cunny, ready to master her completely.

  When he looked up into Evangeline’s face again, he saw that she had watched his own gaze travel downward to the place where he would possess her now—where he would be the first to enjoy the tightness of her virgin sheath, made by providence for a man’s pleasure. Her cheeks shone as pink as the morning glow that found its way around the edges of the gun ports, and he could see that the idea of his dominant lascivious pleasure in bending her to his will had fired her blood, too.

  That notion made more of his natural dominance emerge. “Turn your face forward, sweetling,” he growled softly. “Hold the carriage tightly and push your bottom out to offer it to me. I am going to fuck you now.”

  With a whimper Evangeline obeyed. Her golden head turned, and she bowed it over the barrel of the cannon. She arched her back and raised her sweet backside toward him, moaning softly when she felt how Philip pressed his cock right up against the barrier of her virginity.

  His hot blood did not leave any more time for the noble girl to contemplate further what would now befall her. He gripped her hips firmly in his hands and he thrust his hardness through her maidenhead, driving his cock deep inside her young vagina, until her creamy bottom-cheeks rested upon his muscular lap. Her tightness around his prick thrilled Philip to the marrow as he began immediately to move inside her, though withdrawing at each impaling motion only by an inch or so, in order that he could keep her firmly upon the phallic saddle of his loins.

  Evangeline had given a piercing little cry as she had lost her maidenhead, and now she sobbed with each thrust of the penis inside her, but already those noises seemed to have as much of pleasure in them as of pain. She moved over the gun, now, her hips commencing to find an amorous rhythm of their own as at last she began to understand what fucking truly meant.

  “My lady?” said Mary’s voice, suddenly, from her hammock a few feet away.

  Philip turned, holding Evangeline firmly atop his prick though she struggled under him now as if she could somehow escape over the gun and out the closed gun port, into the sea. The maid’s face appeared over the edge of her hammock, and Philip watched her dark eyes go very wide and her lips part in evident astonishment.

  Though Mary seemed to try mightily to keep from expressing her shock, nevertheless an amazed and admonishing repetition—“My lady!”—came forth from her mouth.

  Turning back, Philip saw that Evangeline had also glimpsed the other girl’s face peering at the lewd spectacle occurring over the eighteen-pound gun. The lovely face of the earl’s daughter had gone bright red, and she had cast her eyes to the floor of the gun deck.

  “Keep your eyes on your own affairs, Mary,” he said sharply. “Your mistress is having a fucking, but that is no concern of yours.” Again Evangeline moved under him, but Philip held her hips tightly, and thrust deeper inside her sweet cunt.

  She gave a cry of helpless pleasure and stilled her motions, as he began to ride her once again. He turned his attention back to the maid only when he felt Evangeline begin to respond properly to his possession of her again, furnishing her young bottom to him with each driving motion and whimpering her submission each time she felt herself pounded by his strong hips. When he did look to Mary’s hammock, he found her still looking with wide eyes at the defloration of her mistress over a cannon.

  The maid’s face puckered when she saw that Philip had found her out, so many emotions crossing it that he thought he could hardly have named half of them. When she spoke again, her voice had nothing scolding in it.

  “My lady?” she called softly.

  Evangeline shuddered under him, but Philip did not cease fucking her, keeping her in place with his hands so that he could continue enjoying the ecstasy that reverberated now through his whole body.

  “Hush, Mary,” he said. “Evangeline is getting what she needs, now.”

  The noble girl’s submissive nature must have taken the words to heart—and to cunny—for she gave another cry and bucked against Philip’s lap. The velvet walls of her vagina contracted around him, and Evangeline spent, sobbing with pleasure, while the hard penis continued to move like a ramrod inside her, teaching her with each thrust how to yield to a man’s urgent passion.

  When the rigors of her climax had released Evangeline’s body, she turned to look again at Mary, even as Philip continued to ride her over the breech of the cannon, his balls now beginning to undergo the seething feeling that presaged his own climax. He meant to withdraw and to spend upon her back, but when he saw the eyes of mistress meet those of maid, however, a different notion came to him.

  For that mutual gaze seemed to Philip to renew the lewd intimacy of the inn, when Evangeline and Mary had succumbed to such Sapphic wickedness as he had never imagined such proper young women might. Evangeline, he saw in the look that now passed, had begun to embrace her randiness and her submission. If he wished to demonstrate to her that he could provide the mastery she needed, he must seize command of the moment.

  “Watch, Mary,” he said, pulling his prick from Evangeline’s cunt with a wet sound so shameful that it made Evangeline whimper, he thought, as much at the noise as at her deprivation of a hardness she had already come to adore. “I am going to spend in your mistress’ bottom.”

  Evangeline gave a little cry, and Mary echoed it, as Philip spread her little bottom-cheeks to expose the tiny ring of her anus. His cock glistened with the arousal it had taken from her well-fucked cunt, and he used one hand to spread more of that best of lubricants upward to anoint her bottom-hole. With the other he held open the pert peaches that bore the moving stripes he had made there with the cat.

  “Oh, no,” Mary whispered. “My lady...”

  Evangeline had bowed her head. “Hush, Mary,” she said, in a voice thick as if with the effort of speaking such shameful things. “He is... he will protect us.”

  Indeed, Philip thought, if I have planned properly I am protecting you right now. A few more minutes, perhaps, and all shall be well. In the meantime, however, I intend to claim you utterly, as my own.

  With his prick in his right hand, and his left pulling apart the lovely halves of Evangeline’s bottom, he pressed against her wrinkly little aperture. She shuddered under him, and her backside tightened against the invasion, but Philip stayed where he was, just teaching her to have the penis in such a private place, ready to impale her.

  “You know how to open, sweetling,” he murmured. “Open to the cock, now.”

  A whimper came from Mary’s hammock, but Evangeline seemed braver than her maid, though the penis pushed at her own hidden flower rather than the other girl’s. With a shudder and a moan, she discovered how to let the prick take her final maidenhead. Philip’s hardness entered an inch, and then another.

  “Oh, heavens,” Evangeline sobbed, poised between pleasure and pain. “Oh... I am so full.”

  “So good,” Philip said, stroking her back as he began to move in her anus, shallowly at first and then with growing authority and rigor, “Oh, that’s delightful, sweetling. Such a sweet bottom. I shall spend very soon.”

  Chapter Eleven

  At that moment a cry from above broke in upon the shameful scene on the gun deck. Evangeline, half-swooning from the dark pleasure of having her backside impaled on Philip’s hard prick over the breech of a cannon, could not make out the words. The tone of alarm was, however, unmistakable.

  She turned to look back at Philip, a thrill of fear somehow heightening the terrible ecstasy of her too-full bottom so that she cried out at the sensation. She almost expected to see the first mate’s handsome face wearing an angry scowl at he
r having dared to gaze at him while he possessed her anally.

  In her mind arose an image of him holding the cat above her, ready to whip her again for her temerity. The fancy sent a terribly ambiguous feeling through her body, from her neglected cunny to her nipples tingling against the cool iron of the gun. Evangeline found to her mortification that she hoped perhaps he would ignore the commotion above and keep fucking her bottom-hole, sore as he had already made it.

  She had thought, when Mary had awoken to witness her mistress’ first fucking, naked over a pirate ship’s eighteen-pounder, that her continued acquiescence to Philip’s mastery had come about only through fear and necessity. He would whip her, if she did not allow him to enjoy her poor cunny with his hard cock. He would whip her, and he would refuse the girls his protection, if she did not accept his manhood in her most shameful, most private place. She had said as much to Mary, but...

  It feels so good, she thought. Even when he took my maidenhead. Even arse-fucking. The prick, the dominance, the hands, the thrusting.

  Even being whipped, because I needed to learn obedience, now that I am to live aboard a pirate ship, and serve her crew in the most shameful ways.

  Instead of a scowl, however, she found on Philip’s face a gentle smile. That expression seemed to have so much meaning and so much hope in it that it made Evangeline’s heart leap, though it also promised the end—for now—of her bottom-fucking.

  “They are going to call for me in a moment,” he said. “You and Mary will be safe here—as safe as I can make you, at any rate.”

  A frown crossed his face as he withdrew his prick from her little ring. The fleeting pleasure, as her anus closed after being held open on his driving manhood for so long, made Evangeline whimper, but then it vanished. She bit her lip, shamefully forlorn.

  “I have done my best,” Philip said, speaking to both Evangeline and Mary now, a need for haste evident in his tone as in the hurried buttoning of his breeches he carried on simultaneously. “I sent a message to a navy captain before we sailed, and I imagine the Channel squadron is closing in upon us as we speak.”

  “Mr. Norris,” bellowed a voice down a hatchway. “Mr. Norris, get your bloody arse up to the quarterdeck and leave the cunts below.”

  “I may swing,” Philip said, “before ever you see me again.” His face, though, as he kissed Evangeline quickly, seemed to say that even should he lose his life, his only regret might well prove to be the failure to spend in the arse of an earl’s daughter when he had had such a favorable opportunity. Evangeline blushed deeply at the thought as she returned the kiss eagerly, wondering what would come of it all.

  “Cousin Mary, I have done you wrong,” he said, turning to the maid, who still peered over the side of her hammock with wide eyes, “but I hope the chance may turn fair in the end.” He had his arm still about Evangeline, and he kissed her again.

  “Mr. Norris!” came the voice again, even more insistent.

  “If you tell them we are secretly married, sweetling,” he said, “all may go better.”

  That idea made Evangeline’s heart race. She saw his meaning, but she could not discern precisely whither it tended, in the end. Did he mean to propose, truly, in this way? No, of course not, because how could a pirate wed an earl’s daughter?

  But...

  She bit her lip. “What if I do not, Philip?”

  He frowned, not catching her meaning—the message so hard to communicate that Evangeline nearly sobbed with frustration.

  “That is as it must be,” he said gravely.

  “But...” Evangeline tried desperately. “But surely... surely you will punish me, if I do not do as you command?”

  “My lady!” Mary exclaimed, her face a mask of surprise.

  “Hush, Mary,” Evangeline ordered, her face now ablaze and her eyes unable to meet Philip’s.

  But the first mate—the first man in my cunny and my bottom, Evangeline thought to herself with a thrill of shame and need—had understood at last.

  “That is right, Evangeline,” he said, his voice very stern. “You will tell them that we are married or you will receive the cat upon your disobedient backside until you beg for the prick in your mouth, your cunt, and your arse instead, you noble little whore.”

  * * *

  “Tell me,” she said a fortnight later, upon their actual wedding night, “what would have happened if we had not been rescued. What would have befallen Mary and me, upon the gun deck, when the second watch came down to... to enjoy us.”

  They lay abed. Philip had made his noble bride remove every stitch of her clothing, so that Evangeline felt again as she had when her piratical new husband had lifted her from the hammock and placed her over the breech of the gun.

  “I will tell you, sweetling,” he said, “once you begin to do your wifely duty. You will suck the prick, now, and make it quite ready for your bottom.”

  A frisson of humiliation and need shot through Evangeline’s body as Philip, himself completely naked, accompanied these words by turning onto his back in the bed and beginning to pump his hardness in his right hand, while his left came up to the back of Evangeline’s neck so that he could guide her face downward toward the prick she must now more and more learn to please.

  She gave a little whimper from deep in her chest, realizing as she did so that, somewhere along her strange, shameful path over land and sea to this moment and to this bride bed, her submissive noises had become a source of wicked pleasure in themselves. A young lady should whimper, when her bridegroom forces her mouth over the hardened flesh of his manhood, after all. She should sob around the penis as she works to please her piratical lord and master, when she feels his hand run down her back to claim her bottom and hold her there, as an encouragement to suck his cock reverently and well—and as a warning of what will happen if she does not.

  “They would,” Philip said in a voice gratifyingly thickened by the pleasure Evangeline’s mouth gave, his words slow with the languor of erotic feeling, “have put you each over a sea chest, so that one man could have your mouth while another fucked your cunny or your arse.”

  She moaned as she sucked. His terrible words seemed to make her need to please his prick even greater, and she tried to bob her head up and down as if she could make her mouth a sort of second cunt for her master’s pleasure. At the degrading notion, and the rubbing of Philip’s fingertips along her still-only-once-fucked cunny, she felt her whole body spasm with arousal. She squirmed shamefully, and her new husband had to put his right hand in her hair to keep her at her task.

  “You would have stayed there for an hour, I wager,” he continued, moving her head up and down on his hardness now at the rhythm of his choosing and making her take more of him with each downward pressure. “If you had resisted, they would have brought the cat to your pretty rump, to tame you for the fucking.”

  The cat. Evangeline felt sure that Philip had one of them, still. Had he brought it on this honeymoon to Gretna Green? She longed to know, and yet she tried her best to please him with her mouth, so that if indeed he had brought it he would not have cause to tell her she must bend over the bed for a whipping.

  For a moment she thought he had read her mind, then, for he said, lifting her face from his loins, “Get upon your belly, sweetling. It is time.”

  Her face burning, not daring to ask what time he meant, she turned to lie upon her front, her hands beside her face. She whimpered as Philip put the bolster under her hips, to raise her bottom for him.

  “Please...” she said. “Please don’t... don’t whip me...”

  Evangeline could hear in her voice all the terrible ambiguity she felt about the cat, about the captain’s cabin and the barrel and the gun. About the many pricks in her mouth and the one manhood that had claimed her in every way. About even the fancy of the sea chest and the hour she and Mary would have spent, their bodies used for every degrading pleasure a pirate might take.

  “I will not whip you now, sweetling,” Philip said gen
tly.

  “Now?” she murmured, half in fear and half in helpless arousal. She turned to watch him get upon the bed, his hard prick jutting proudly out toward her.

  “I will have to put you over my knee from time to time, and whip you as well, as any firm husband should,” he said gravely. “That you are so far above me in birth will make that all the more necessary.”

  Evangeline’s lips parted and her breath came panting now between them. “And tonight?”

  “Tonight I shall humble you, yes,” Philip replied. “But I shall do so in a different way. I shall finish in your pert arse what I began over the gun. Did you think I spoke idly when I said you must prepare me for your bottom? I have chosen your anus for my first ride as your husband.”

  She felt her face crumple with shame. Of a sudden she had the need to resist his degrading intentions, though she had no desire to inquire of herself precisely why.

  “I am sure that even Captain Mountjoy will not outrage Mary this way, on their wedding night!” she exclaimed, beginning to rise and to clamber off the bolster.

  Philip’s face displayed a puzzled and slightly annoyed frown, now. He easily restrained her with his hands on her hips, keeping her bottom in place. He straddled her with his knees beside her thighs, then used one hand to rub a meaningful circle on her little cheeks.

  “Must I spank you, then, sweetling?” he asked. “You are my wife, now, and you will submit as I choose.”

  She twisted her face over her shoulder to continue looking back at him, trying to make her expression defiant, as he spread the place he had just caressed. His hard prick pressed between the twin round peaches, the head against the tiny ring into which he had taught her to take the penis, when he had claimed her over the gun.