She tried to push through the ring around her but the men held firm, nudging her back with their hips until she was standing in the middle of them.
"Trevor, save me!” she called out to him only to have the men around her laugh uproariously.
"He saved you for me, wench."
The pirates parted to reveal their captain and Barbara's eyes widened.
"Bret?” she asked, barely aware of Jackson as he moved behind her and took her arms to hold them behind her—an action that pushed her breasts prominently forward.
"They call me the Raven,” Bret said as he swaggered over to her and snaked out a hand to cup her chin in a firm grip. He lifted her face. “But you may call me master."
His mouth came down on hers in a kiss that curled the toes in her kid slippers. His tongue thrust between her lips and his big body crowded hers, pressing into her front as Neville's burly pressed against her back. When he broke the kiss, he put his hands to the bodice of her gown and ripped it straight down the front.
"Oh!” Barbara gasped. She was mortified to be bare-chested in front of all the men surrounding her. She recognized Drake Sullivan, Jackson, and—on no!—Julian St. John among the pirate throng. Her entire body quivered.
"Once I taste your sweetness, I'll hand you over to my crew for their enjoyment,” the Raven told her. His large hands covered her breasts and he kneaded them firmly, his thumbs rubbing roughly over the nipples. “You'll be well used before we return you to Mistral Cay."
As the dozens of pirates—and captured British sailors—watched, he slipped his hands around her waist and jerked her to him, grinding his groin hard against hers.
"He's taken quite well to the pirating life, eh, Captain?” Drake asked Julian.
"Indeed he has, Doctor Sullivan,” Julian agreed. “Indeed he has."
Barbara glanced across to Julian St. John, the owner of the infamous nudist resort, and saw the bright sparkle in his eyes. He was having as much fun as she was, as he stood there with his arms crossed over his wide chest. The front of his billowing white shirt was opened all the way down to the broad black leather belt that circled his waist. His black britches fit without a wrinkle into his thigh-high boots with the turned-down bucket cuffs. In his left ear was a gold earring that caught a glint of sunshine as he smiled.
"Do you want her first, Captain?” Bret asked.
Julian shrugged. “Nay, you take the first watch, Raven."
"Much obliged, Captain,” Bret stated. He moved back enough to finish ripping the gown all the way to the hem, laying her front completely open to the view of the gathered men. She could feel her blush from crown to toe.
"You aren't going to do me here?” she whispered anxiously to Bret. There were at least two dozen helpers plus the owner of the Cay standing there on deck and another dozen lying scattered and supposedly dead.
Bret's white teeth gleamed. “'Tis your fantasy, wench,” he said. “What do you think?"
For a moment she hesitated, and then thought: in for a penny, in for a pound. When would she ever get to live out such a marvelous fantasy ever again? She lifted her chin.
"I'll not be cowed by you, you despicable beast! Do your worst!"
Bret's eyes flared but he nodded, reaching down to work the buttons of his breeches. “Don't say I didn't give you an out, wench,” he said.
Jackson's grip on her arms tightened.
Bret was hard as a rock when he allowed his cock to spring free of his breeches. His length erect made Barbara swallowed. He was much larger than either Jackson or Neville and the bulb of that meaty weapon had a drop of pre-cum already clinging to it.
"I'm going to fill you like an éclair, wench, and then my men will all get a taste of your cream!"
He reached down, slipped his hands under her thighs and hefted her up, dragging her legs onto his hips before ramming his stiff rod into her moist cunt.
"Holy shit!” Barbara said. Her eyes had bulged the moment he impaled her. He was certainly not her first man, but he was most definitely the first who had ever stretched her as she was being stretched at that moment. He was rock-solid inside her and so tight that she moaned as he began to thrust—slowly at first then with longer and deeper probes.
"You're mine, wench,” Bret said as he pumped into her. “I don't think I'll let any other man get a taste of this!"
He was pistoning his rod inside her. Pulling almost all the way out before jamming back into her with enough force that Jackson staggered.
"Come for him, you lusty strumpet,” Jackson whispered in her ear. “Cream that cock of his and then milk him for all he's worth!"
She was panting with the lust that was careening through her body. The glorious man thrusting into her, the handsome man holding her—his own rigid erection prodding her rear—and the avid eyes of the men watching all combined to make Barbara lose whatever modesty or control she had. She pushed down against that stiff invasion and as the first ripples of release started high in her channel, she clenched her teeth, closed her eyes, and stopped breathing, pushing herself hard upon that unyielding cock.
Bret felt her coming and stilled, holding himself as deep inside her as he could, then let go of his own release, squirting her with a hot cum that pulsed strongly right up against her womb. “Nobody ... but ... me,” he said, accentuating each word with a hard shove of his hips. “Ever ... again!"
She was riding him, milking him, draining him, her sweet cunt clamping around him as the last of his juices spurted and the last of her clenches faded away. His big hands were clutching her body, his fingers digging into the flesh. Her ankles were locked behind his back, the side of her face pressed to his sweaty chest.
"Mine,” she heard Bret say and then Jackson's hands were suddenly gone.
He took her down the little cabin. Carrying her to the bunk, he dropped her down, spun around, and kicked the door shut with his boot before snatching at the wide leather belt around his waist. His cock was still jutting from the opening in his breeches but it was more flaccid now that he had come, yet still proudly flying at half-staff.
"I am going to fuck you until you promise me I'll be the only man who will ever fuck you from now on,” he said, stripping off the belt.
Barbara scuttled to the far corner of the bunk. “I will not give in to your blackmail, you monster,” she vowed.
"We'll see about that,” the Raven swore. He practically ripped off his breeches and then threw himself at her, lunging over the mattress to cover her with his taut cinnamon body. “You'll cry quarter, wench. By Neptune, you will!"
Epilogue
It was with great delight that Barbara tendered her resignation to Entellimedia when she returned to Albany two days later. The little Toyota she gave to a charity organization that helped maintain the local humane society. Her furniture, she donated to Goodwill along with her winter clothing. What few belongings she wanted to have on the Cay, she boxed up and would take to the plane that took her back to Mistral Cay and the well-paying job, and the quaint seaside cottage that waited...
"Got everything, baby?” Bret asked as she took one last look at her tiny little apartment.
She looked up into his warm, sultry black eyes. “I have everything any girl could ever want,” she answered, slipping her arm around his waist.
The End
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