Once or twice, for a split second each, she surfaces, expelling invisible brine from her lungs, coughing the unreal sea air, which has become unwieldy in her lungs. There are voices, brief and somber; Ashley hears and tries to incorporate them.
“Simon, we may need to get her to a hospital.”
“Nonsense, Nigel. The effect is temporary. She will recover any moment. See how already she is subsiding?”
The one called Nigel, who had a stethoscope that touched her belly like the pirate’s sword, sighed. “I don’t know, Simon. I’m a doctor, but I’ve not seen the likes of this. It’s virtual psychosis. What on Earth possessed you to use the technique on a girl this inexperienced in the first place? I mean, she’s lovely, of course, but this could cost the woman her sanity.”
“Really, Nigel. You exaggerate. All you need do is give her a shot of something, bring her round. Smelling salts, even.”
“Honestly, Simon, which of us is the physician? It will take time; I’ll have to bring her out slowly. In the meantime, I suggest you give some serious thought to how you might control your libido in the future.”
Simon muttered a curse, tried to shake her. “Nigel, I need medical help, not moral advice! Ashley, wake up, will you!”
Ashley blinked and then she was Tia again, being roused from slumber.
“Wake up, wench!” the pirate commanded, kicking her in the side with his boot. “Do you think you earned your rest with a single, light fuck?”
“Ow!” she wailed, as he brought her to her feet, his hand twisted in her dirty, stained hair. “That hurts.”
The pirate silenced her, bowing her back, till she was looking up at the darkening twilight sky. She had passed out, apparently, after her lengthy usage.
“So you think you understand pain, lazy slut? Think again!” Using his free hand, he grasped her swollen sex. “I promise you, Tia, the day will come when you will beg for a night as easy as this! Now stand up straight and put your hands in front of you, wrists crossed!”
Tia obeyed. Using the rope, he twisted a knot round her neck like a collar, then ran the free end down her back, cinching it between her legs before tying it off again round her proffered wrists. Using the free end, he fashioned a leash, by which he could pull the girl and utterly control her. It was a cunning tie, for unless Tia moved fast enough to keep the rope slack on her wrists, it would press painfully between her vaginal lips.
“This is your incentive,” he told her, tugging the rope hard enough to chafe her divided sex. “Keep up with me, or your cunt will feel the difference. And with as much spreading as you’ll be doing tonight, you won’t want to start off already sore and red.”
The pirate smirked, enjoying her shame and dismay at the mention of further rape to come. “Then again,” he observed, shortening the leash till she was inches from his face, moaning in misery. “You could always ask the men to use your other holes instead. Isn’t that right, Tia?”
“Yes,” she said through clenched teeth, trying desperately to close the distance between them and ease the pressure on her groin.
He laughed as she managed to sidle herself against him, sliding her hip in next to his, her sweaty, soiled flesh against his muscled thighs. “You’re an eager little slut, aren’t you?” The pirate held a finger to her lips, pressed it till they parted. “Show me how you will honor our cocks tonight, Tia.”
Tears in her eyes, lips trembling, she opened for him, knowing instinctively what he meant her to do. Taking the finger deep, she caressed it, encouraging him to exploit fully her soft warm mouth. Below she felt the rope tighten, like a lover, merciless and snakelike. Eyes glazing, heavy lidded she worked rhythmically towards her own release, a roped slut, sucking her rapist’s finger.
At the last second, he prevented her from coming.
“No, little Tia. Not yet. Later, beneath the moonlight, as you writhe under the whip, dancing before our campfire. Then we will all hear you howl.”
Swollen in her heat, he made her follow him. With every step, staggering, running, seeking to keep the leash slack, Ashley threatened to explode. Her cunt, her breasts, every inch of her ached with need. She hadn’t even known the fullness of an orgasm till he’d raped her an hour before, and already she craved more. How much more would he teach her, how much more would he demand of her?
The pirate’s footsteps were sure, steady. She watched the undulation of his buttocks beneath the trousers, the crush of his booted heel as she labored behind him. How erotic he seemed, how vastly superior, by virtue of his sword, his clothes. Would she ever again earn the right to be clothed or would she serve naked all her days? And what exactly would her life be like now?
The island was large, the journey so painful that it seemed to stretch for hours. He allowed her rest on several occasions, at one point permitting her to go to her belly to take water from a tiny stream. It was a valuable lesson for Tia, for she learned that as a pirate’s wench, she was required to pay for food and water with the only coinage she would ever be allowed. Namely, her own body.
On her knees, still bound and naked, Tia took his cock deep in her captive throat, showing her gratefulness for the few sips of water she’d been allowed to slurp up noisily like an animal. She’d been made to say certain words, which she’d been told would be the same each time.
“Tia begs to suck the cock of her lord,” she had mumbled, and then repeated more vigorously after a corrective slap across the face. “Tia asks humbly to swallow the manhood of her lord. Tia offers her mouth, freely, to be used as a second cunt.”
The words of submission and humiliation hung in the air, burning in her belly as the Pirate Lord had his way with her, using his hands in her matted hair to direct her motion and directions. Tia did not dare to gag or protest, but took him smoothly, cooperatively. Her passiveness seemed not to soothe but rather inflame him, however, resulting in the plowing of her jaws as the tip of him pressed the very back of her throat.
Though he had not demanded it, Tia raised her eyes, straining to see above his massive, hirsute chest, up to his jaw line and face. If only he could see her submission! Alas, she realized, he soon would; for had he not said there were many she would serve under his supervision?
The Pirate’s emission was like an explosion, a surging of seed that blasted the back of her tender throat. Her head immobilized, she gulped obediently. Had she even dreamed of denying him the fullness of his pleasure, the presence of his hands on the side of her head were there as a potent reminder that she was his to use as he pleased.
Tia had tried to raise her head, as a means of bonding, hoping to see some sign that she had pleased him, but she found herself cuffed once again. Her face belonged at his feet, he told her, that she might kiss his boots.
“This you do for me alone, do you understand?” he asked sternly, when she had bathed his foot sufficiently in her saliva. “As a sign, before and after pleasuring me that I am your lord.”
Tia shivered, a weakness surging through her, pleasurable and electric. This was her lord. This one man alone whom she would obey. Though others might abuse and use her, he alone would have command. How she longed for him to use her further, to teach her the meaning of his lordship. Even now, her roped pussy gaped and ached, saturating the coarse fibers with tender female juices.
“Come, girl,” he barked, when he had taken all the water he desired for himself.
“Yes, my lord,” she said, rising from her knees, not daring to ask for another sip herself. “Tia obeys.”
She tried to stand prettily for him, holding her body in a way she hoped was enticing but not insolent. If the Pirate was pleased, he showed no sign of it, grunting idly as he tugged the invasive leash to get her moving. Tia did her best, aching and sore, to keep up. She had to run to match his steps. With each stride, her painful, swollen breasts bobbed up and down, the nipples burning like nubs of fire. Meanwhile, trails of her own arousal were drying up and down her inner thighs. Tiny mosquitoes began to nibble there.
The smell of rum hung in the air, and the sweet burning of roasted pig upon a spit. There were musical instruments, crude and high pitched, and a general spirit of celebration. All eyes, however, were on their captain, and upon his captive. Raising a proffered bottle high in the air the Pirate toasted their health, and praised them for their glorious service. As the men swarmed round her, groping and touching, Tia realized they were celebrating the taking of her ship. One man, a pot bellied knave with a huge scar on his chest and a broken nose was wearing her mother’s necklace. Another wore the brass-buttoned coat of her fiancée, who had been a lieutenant in the king’s cavalry.
Tia—which she remembered now was short for Antonia—wept openly. Her tears invoked laughter, and rough handling from several of the men.
“Give the wench something real to cry over!” the pot bellied man boomed.
Tia looked forlornly at the Pirate Captain, her lord, as he cut loose her rope bonds with a dagger.
“She is yours,” he cried, raising another toast.
From behind a man hollered, issuing a high-pitched war whoop. Scooping Tia from her feet, he carried her to the fire, throwing her down on her back. She was close enough to feel the heat of it as they spread her legs, one man each upon her ankles. There was a never ending supply of cocks now, as Tia took them, one by one, so many that the semen overflowed, coating her inner thighs and eventually caking and crusting over. At the same time, two other hands held her wrists painfully wide over her head, giving full access to her tits. As many men as fucked her took equal delight in mauling and abusing the tempting, helpless mounds.
To encourage the use of their mouths and teeth on the new slave, a steady supply of rum was poured over her pale torso. There were comedians in the lot, who discovered they could soak their cocks in the fiery liquid, compelling Tia to take it down her throat as she licked at their erections. She didn’t like the taste at all. It was harsh and cruel, and far too masculine. When the bottle was empty, its contents clinging to her ravaged body, they used the bottle itself, compelling her to take the neck of it in her mouth and belly. They seemed to draw special delight from compelling her to lick off her own juices from the smooth glass.
This inspired them to fetch another slave, a girl whom Tia remembered from the ship as the niece of the captain. Tia gasped in horror as she saw the girl’s stunningly long blonde hair had been hacked off to just below her neck. She was naked, in irons, and on her small pert breasts, Tia saw dangling a pair of gold nipple rings. There were also marks, crisscrossed over her flesh, evidence of her having tasted the lash.
They made the girl sit on Tia’s face, so she could devour the contents of her sex. Over and over, she kept apologizing to Tia for the horrible act they were being made to perform, but what could either of them do? They were slaves now. Tia had no choice but to lick, and the girl no choice but to come and come as the many rough hands tormented them, compelling their unholy obedience.
When the men grew bored of this exercise, someone shouted out that it was time for the wenches to dance. Tia felt a chill down her spine, for she remembered what her lord had told her about the dance, how it would be a writhing under the lash, beside the firelight, and how she would be made to howl in sexual heat even as they tortured her.
“Be strong,” Tia whispered to the blonde, who was just eighteen. “We will survive this.”
“You hope so!” bellowed the pot-bellied man, as he pushed them forward into a ring of pirates.
The object of the dance was to move sensuously enough, pleasing the men sufficiently so as not to draw jeers, and with them the swift action of the Whip Men. These were the burliest of the pirates, most skilled in their devilish art. The blonde was shy, and suffered worse, receiving stripes fore and aft. Tia fared better, being able to watch the face of her lord, off to the side and therefore to display her submissive passion. This was no guarantee, however, for it seemed a pleasing slave could be struck also, to increase her passion.
Tia moaned, the firelight tickling her breasts, warming her gaping cunt as she swayed in time to the music, displaying herself in fullest passion to the men who’d raped her and would rape her again. Naked, writhing as if on a blade, Tia gave of her deepest soul, drawing their interest long after her hapless female shipmate had been dragged off to serve the resurgent tide of hard cocks.
Tia gave way to the sensations as if in a dream: pleasure and warmth, limbs caressing the rum soaked air, spikes of pleasure and pain as coiled black things hissed and teased, claiming of her flesh what they willed. On and on she danced. Hands above her head as though bound, back arched, stretching and seeking, unable to keep herself from silently begging the lash. Again and again, it found her, across her breasts, searing her nipples, striping her thighs, tenderizing her ass.
“Touch yourself!” someone cried. “Make yourself come!”
“Yea,” drawled another, clearly drunk. “Use your little finger and pretend it’s Little Willie’s cock!”
There were roars of laughter, but the Whip Men took it quite seriously. Like a rain, the blows fell until at last Tia obeyed. Hand stuffed in her crotch, panting and moaning, she forced her own pleasure, till she was a ball of need, collapsed upon the sand, twisting and rolling and coming. They had to pull her hand out of her insatiable crotch, and when Tia looked up, able to focus at long last, she saw to her shame that the blonde was watching, pity in her eyes.
Tia lowered her gaze, losing herself in the men’s pleasure. This was what she was, she realized, a pleasure slut, a pirate wench. Between death and dishonor, she would choose this, her complete debasement.
“I don’t know about you,” the pot belly said, “but I’d like to try a piece of that tight ass!”
A cheer rose from the crew, a sound such as she’d never heard before. It was raw, cunt shattering and primeval. She was still shaking from it when they put her into her next position, on all fours, face down in the dirt, her own hands spreading her virgin ass cheeks.
“I am first,” she heard the captain say, her lord. “I am always first.”
Tia wept with joy, feeling infinite release and peace. It was only right, after all, that the first to rape her anally should be her master, the man who’d tamed her. Tia shuddered as her lord’s dick claimed her puckered hole, loosely lubricated by a smearing of pig’s grease. She was coming again, magically, over and over even as he inched his way forward into her, masterfully and potently. The Pirate Lord kept her on this brink, until at long last, he let her slip from consciousness.
This time, at least, she had earned her rest.
As Tia slid away, Ashley felt herself separating out. Beginning somewhere outside herself, she began to smell the coffee, wafting to her nostrils, coming from a kitchen, far from the island, far from the swirling waters which had claimed her so long ago, at the café, back when Simon had told her to put her hands on the table.
“There you see,” she heard a voice. “She’s coming to after all. No harm done.”
Ashley gasped, opened her eyes, her dreams fulfilled as she beheld him. The Pirate Lord who was also Simon Rice. The man who had saved her and stolen her heart.
“I love you,” she said, out loud.
“Hmph,” she heard a second man say, the man with the stethoscope, his voice dripping sarcasm. “No harm done, you say?”
***
Andrea had no patience for the bouncer tonight. Brushing past the girls ahead of her, who'd been stopped for an ID check, she waltzed through the door into The Edge, telling the leather covered
man with her wiggling ass what he could do if he wanted to stop her. Of course, he could have easily done so, but why should he? Andrea was a pretty, sexy young woman and the world belonged to her type. She’d been trying to convince Ash of this, but now she’d be really happy just to get her sister back at all.
Libby had told her she had complete faith in her, which meant a lot, especially at a time like this. Coming back to The Edge was not one of Andrea’s smarter ideas, and if she had any common sense she’d have told the cops about the matchbook instead of trying to track her sister down on her own. She hoped there was some logic to it—like maybe she could get information the cops couldn’t—but then again, it could just be another sign of her instability. A masochistic streak that had opened wide after the night she saw her father training ‘ponies’ and which had been growing ever since.
It was just past ten and the crowd was still light. Andrea had been here a few times before, most recently hooking up with Lucas Petrocelli, a small time hood with a major Napoleonic complex. He and a couple of his ‘business’ partners, an Australian named Bosco and an Englishman named Reed had done a pretty intense scene with her a week ago. They were the ones who’d shown her that The Edge had a secret back area known affectionately as The Hole where hardcore players could live out their fantasies in rent-by-the-hour dungeons.
From what she’d heard, this place was world famous, drawing not only bikers but elite corporate types as well. There were also rumors that the place had ties to real world white slavery. It was this last possibility that so completely terrified Andrea. As naïve as her virgin sister was, Ashley was a prime candidate for some of the sharks she’d seen lurking in the dark waters of this establishment.
Andrea bypassed the bar and decided to sneak back to the dressing rooms, where she might find out something useful from one of the girls. She’d talked with a few of them before, pumping them for information about the stripping business, as well as their participation in the S and M lifestyle which at The Edge was a prerequisite for employment. There was a blonde, named Busty and a pretty, classy brunette named Shade who were really open with her.
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