by Lynn, KT
“So I was right.” He said it calmly as opposed to when he argued with Mila the other day.
“Yeah, Joe. She’s mine. If you want to stay, all you get to do is watch.” Mila walked back over to me and kissed me again. Suddenly, it didn’t matter that Joe was in the room. My heart began beating hard once again and an aching of ecstasy waiting to be released tingled between my thighs.
She ripped my skirt back down as she dropped to her knees. I looked over at Joe who had unzipped his pants and began to stroke his cock. He looked so excited, like this was the best thing to ever happen to him. He couldn’t have me, but he could watch Mila have me and that appeared to be enough.
I ran my hands through Mila’s hair as she began to stick her tongue in my aching pussy, licking at my throbbing clit causing me to moan out like I was before. She was so good, so experienced. The thought of her inside me made me more and more wet as each second passed.
“Fuck yeah. Lick her pussy,” growled Joe beneath his breath. The once refined, gentlemen-like Joe was now the narrator to our little affair. He stood there jerking his large dick with a flustered face as Mila ate me out. I did want to go over there and suck that throbbing cock but what Mila was doing to me was too good for me to move.
“Yes, oh yes lick my clit.” I couldn’t help but join in with the dirty talk that Joe had brought out. I was so hot, so horny. I wanted to cum everywhere. I wanted to squirt out on Mila’s face and have Joe shoot out on mine. I was getting so close. My legs were shaking so much I didn’t know how I was still managing to stand. Mila had me in her grasp, and she wasn’t letting go anytime soon.
“You like that don’t you, Cathy? You filthy girl.” Joe’s voice was only turning me on more and more. I liked it; I liked it so much. I wanted Mila eating out my pussy for as long as possible, but I knew I couldn’t hold on much longer.
I didn’t know how I’d gotten myself into this situation. One minute we were cooking the pies--which were probably burnt by now--and the next, Mila had her tongue on my clit, and Joe was jerking his massive dick beside us. I didn’t expect this when I applied for the job and moved to this quiet, innocent small farming town. It only made the whole situation that much hotter. Everything about this turned me on, made me wet, made me close to bursting my load all over Mila.
I could feel myself getting closer and closer to the breaking point. My knees were starting to shake; I couldn’t catch my breath. Finally, I screamed out as I leaked down myself, my cum dripping from my wet and aching pussy, and my clit throbbing from the touch of her tongue.
With my juices all over her face, Mila got up and smiled at me. She walked over to Joe.
“You want a taste of her, don’t you Joe?” She swirled a finger around in her mouth and pulled it out, smearing the sticky concoction on her fingertips across Joe’s fevered lips.
“She’s sweet isn’t she?” She giggled and walked back out into the front of the shop to greet a customer that’d just come in and was waiting patiently.
Joe shot his load over his hand and right across the floor. He stared at me the whole time as I continued to rub my breasts and watch. I didn’t have the strength to get dressed, or to work, or to do anything other than linger in the ecstasy Mila provided for me.
Even though at first we didn’t take our work home with us, we eventually found ourselves all over each other at the house. I was constantly a victim to her spontaneous kisses. She would rip my clothes right off me as we passed each other in the hall and then lick out my moistening pussy that was always happy to see her. I was her victim, and I didn’t want it any other way.
Joe came back all the time looking for another show. The man that once liked me now became nothing more than an addict to our shows. Mila never let him join in, but he always got a front row seat. She made sure he knew that I was hers and no one else’s. I couldn’t help but crave his cock from time to time, but I was quite happy with what Mila did to me. She was so perfect, so filthy. She could make me squirt out at any moment, and that’s what kept me on my toes.
Joe decided to help promote our little bakery around the town in exchange for what we brought him. Eventually business took off, and everything was perfect. We had each other, a house and a decent career. Moving to this village was the best choice I ever made.
Plundered at Sea
by Cherise Kemps
Themes: light bondage; femdom
The familiar scent of saltwater fills my nostrils as I wake up, drifting in through the open window of the captain’s cabin along with the first faint beams of sunlight.
Quickly, I shrug off my chemise, drenched in sweat from the previous night, and put on my dark breeches, my crumpled linen blouse and my corset vest, which I lace loosely at the front so as to not smother my breasts. It is, after all, a size too small. Then again, it was not mine to begin with. Like most of my clothes and my belongings, I have stolen it from another ship, which is what I have done for the past five years as a pirate – as the captain of a pirate ship to be precise.
Other women have maids to lace their corsets for them, but I have never had that luxury. I would have if my father, a wealthy Viscount, had married my mother, a former governess, instead of casting her aside, but like many men of the ton, he was a coward, and so my mother was cast out into the slums, forced into a life of prostitution.
From a tender age of four, I watched men enter my mother’s room. Sometimes, I even caught a glance of them entering her. I learned not to care.
Some of the men tried to seduce me and sometimes, I let them. I never let them control me, though. I was smarter than my mother, stronger even. All the time they thought they were using me, I was using them, learning from them all I could.
From one of my mother’s lovers who was a sailor, I learned all about ships. I became fascinated with them and started dreaming of having one of my own.
By the time I was twelve, I knew more than any well-schooled lady of sixteen. I knew how to please men, and so I knew how to control them. I knew how to repair sails, raise masts and hoist anchors. I knew how to use a knife and how to use different herbs to make people unconscious, paralyze them or kill them. All of these I used to eventually murder my father, as well as the former captain of my ship, The Black Mermaid.
I put on my trimmed Hessian boots, my red bandanna, my beaded necklace, which I had purchased at a port in Egypt, and my wool felt hat before I go up to the decks, my eyes roaming about to see if everyone was at their posts. Nobody speaks up to greet me. No one dares to meet my gaze. They are all afraid of me, just as they should be. They know, after all, what will become of anyone who dares to defy me even in the slightest manner.
I step near the railing and pick up the tarnished brass telescope, sighing when I find neither land nor a nearby ship to commandeer. It has already been more than a week since our last plunder and we were almost out of supplies. Frustrated, I toss the telescope to my first mate, Douglas, a stout man of nearly fifty and return to my cabin to have breakfast.
I have hardly finished it when Douglas knocks on my door. He is the only one who has the courage to do so, though even he is not permitted to open it when I am inside.
“Captain! Captain! I’ve spotted a ship to the west,” Douglas says.
At once, I rise from my seat and open the door, quickly heading to the deck. I pick up the telescope once more and this time, I grin.
“It is a merchant ship,” I tell Douglas, my voice trembling with excitement. “Turn the ship, Douglas. We should be able to catch up to it if we take down the sails.”
“Aye, captain!”
In a louder voice, I shout, “All hands on deck! Take down the sails and prepare to board!”
Everyone scrambles to follow my orders. In moments, the merchant ship is within clear sight, close enough so I can see the men on it scrambling, as well, though unlike my men, they scramble in fear. Heavy with cargo, the merchant ship is unable to evade us and it is only a matter of time before it is secured with grappling h
ooks. I watch my men board with swords and pistols and intimidating shouts – the fools, nothing gives them more joy than that of plunder – and when all resistance has been subdued and the passengers have been tied up, I follow them.
I survey the ship, noting that it has only been recently built, only on its maiden voyage, perhaps. I grin with satisfaction as I see the numerous crates tied on deck, probably placed there because the cargo hold was already full, and give my crew orders to begin transporting the goods to The Black Mermaid.
Just as they commence, I hear someone shout.
“Stop it, you bastards! Thieves! How dare you attack our ship and take our cargo!” he says, his voice filled with uninhibited rage.
“Tarquin, you mustn’t,” the old man tied beside him makes an effort to hush him.
Still, he continues. “Have you no decency? No honor? You steal from hardworking, innocent people and call yourselves men.”
“Silence!” I admonish. No one has ever spoken out in my presence before and I am furious, though at the same time, I am curious as to what kind of man would dare defy a pirate captain. I approach the man and when he sees that I am a woman, his eyes widen.
“A woman?” he asks, his voice clearly filled with disbelief.
“My name is Morgan,” I tell him. “I am the captain of The Black Mermaid, and now, this ship belongs to me, as well.”
“You are a woman and yet you dare consort with pirates?”
“Did you not hear me, lad? I do not consort with them. I am their captain.”
“Some kind of captain you are, ordering your men to steal from innocent, hard-working people.”
He spits at me, the frothy liquid landing on the front of my corset. I bring out my pistol and press the barrel against his forehead, reminding him of his place, but his gaze does not waver nor does he shiver in fear. I am tempted to pull the trigger but something better comes to mind. Perhaps I can make use of him. He is quite a handsome youth, after all, with piercing black eyes, smooth skin and good teeth. He certainly seems to have a lot of passion and vitality in him, too, being as young as he is, which I pegged at about just nineteen years, and I have not had a man in months.
“Take him to my cabin!” I order as I wipe his spit off my corset with my sleeve, my eyes still meeting his. “I shall discipline him there.”
“Wench!” he hisses at me. He tries to spit at me again, but this time, I am able to step back.
“And gag him as well!” I add.
He grits his teeth and glares at me with those piercing eyes but I am undaunted. Already, I have a few ideas on how to go about having my way with him and just those thoughts are enough to make my breasts tingle in anticipation.
Two of my men take him away, dragging him. As they do, the old man beside him speaks up.
“Please, do not take him away,” he pleads. “You may take the goods but please do not take the young master.”
“The young master?” I ask him. I already know the lad is different from the rest, but the fact that he is the merchant’s son comes as a pleasant surprise. “His father was foolish enough to send him out to sea. Perhaps I shall collect a hefty ransom when I am done with him.”
I watch as the old man’s eyes widen in horror and I turn on my heel to go back to my ship.
I stay on deck until all the cargo has been transferred, which takes more than an hour since there are plenty, then I tell my crew to open the crates. I nod in approval as I find that they are all filled with wool, which could fetch a high price at the next port. There are also barrels of port wine from the ship’s storeroom, which I allow my men to help themselves to, and sacks of dried fruit, biscuits and flour along with a few jars of molasses, which must have been the merchant ship’s food supply. There are bags of gold, too, which I seize.
I drink and feast with my men for a while, though I do not laugh or sing along with them. It is one of my rules not to, in order to maintain my position as their Captain.
It is already afternoon when I return to my cabin. There, I find the young man named Tarquin, whom I have not at all forgotten, bound to a chair near my bed, the thick ship ropes going around his chest. Just as I had ordered, his mouth was covered with a strip of canvas, as well, most likely torn from one of our old sails.
He looks at me in the eye as I enter, defiance still burning in his gaze, which is all well and good. After all, there is not much excitement in seducing someone who is already willing, and I definitely intend to seduce him.
Once I have set down my hat on the table and kicked off my boots, I start my seduction by removing my clothes, first my corset vest and then my breeches. His eyes widen in horror and he looks away.
I do not stop, though. I unbutton my linen blouse and discard it so that I am now completely nude in front of him, save for the beaded necklace around my neck, which now rest against my bare breasts. He steals a glance at me but looks away again, squeezing his eyes shut as if he has seen something horrible. I merely chuckle.
I remove the last piece of cloth I have on – the red bandanna, letting it fall to the floor so that my dark brown locks are completely free, then I sit on the edge of the narrow bed.
I lean back, supporting my weight with my left arm while I proceed to touch myself with my right hand. I cup one of my breasts, gentle squeezing it and rolling a nipple between my fingers. The sensitive nub immediately hardens and I hiss. I give the other breast the same treatment before I spread my legs and place my hand between them.
He is watching me now, his eyes no longer wide but narrowing intently, his cheeks flushed. I meet his gaze before I look down, challenging him to follow, then I move my hand. I search through the patch of curls for my secret place and having found it, I daringly stroke it. I shudder, my fingers growing wetter with every stroke. I am lost in the pleasure, which is intensified by the knowledge that I am being watched, and before long, I bite my lip and throw my head back as I allow it to claim me.
When I have finished, I am gasping for breath, and so is he. I walk over to him and remove his gag, then place my hand between his legs, smirking when my fingers ghost over a bulge.
“You’ve enjoyed my performance, I see,” I drawl as I begin stroking him through the fabric. He gasps.
“Why…are you doing this?” he asks.
“It’s simple really,” I tell him, rubbing one of my breasts against his face. “I simply want you.”
His eyes widen again, a new layer of blush tinting his cheeks and it dawns on me that he has never been with a woman before.
Suddenly impatient to have him, I retrieve my knife from the satchel hanging on the wall and cut off his ropes so that he is no longer bound to the chair, though his hands are still tied behind him. I grab his arm and throw him on the bed, which creaks in protest, and then use the knife to cut through his breeches before tossing it aside.
I kneel between his legs and his cock stands proudly in front of me, magnificent as I thought it would be. Unable to resist, I lick it, starting from under the crown going down and then around and back up where I caress the slit with the tip of my tongue, getting a taste of the salty essence that had already gathered there. He mutters a curse. He is already losing control.
Since he is already dripping wet and so am I, I position myself over him, rubbing the tip of his cock against my opening. He looks at me, eyes brimming with desire as I am sure mine are. Slowly, I sink slowly down, taking him inside me. He is large, but not the largest man I have had. Still, I have not had a man in a while and so I ache. I wait until the ache passes.
When it has passed, I begin to move, supporting my weight with both my arms. I move slowly at first and then I go faster as the pleasure builds within me. He closes his eyes, his face clearly showing that he is trying to keep himself in control, but he has already lost it.
When his cock rubs that special place inside me, I moan and seconds later, I feel something warm shoot inside me. The sensation is amazing and I come undone, taking him in as deeply as I can and i
nvoluntarily tightening around him, throwing my head back and opening my mouth in a silent scream.
I feel him softening and I get off him. I lie down on the narrow space beside him until I catch my breath, saying nothing. After a while, I get off the bed. I do not bother to wipe the fluid dripping down the inside of my thighs.
I bend down to get my knife then I cut his bindings.
“If you get out of this cabin, my men will kill you,” I threaten him. “And if you try to hurt me, I will kill you myself.”
He swallows, nodding.
I push him against the wall and then crawl onto the bed, not bothering to put on clothes. I fall asleep.
I wake up to feel a hand fondling my breast. I turn around, trying not to fall off the edge of the bed and I see lust gleaming anew in Tarquin’s eyes. There is something tender burning in them, too, but I pay that no heed. If he wants me again, then I will let him have me.
He presses his lips against mine and at first, I go still, hesitating to respond. I am not fond of kisses, after all. Still, his lips clumsily go on coaxing mine and deciding to give him his first kiss, I give in. I part my lips and allow his tongue to enter between them. I suck on the tip and I feel him shiver. He is slow and tentative, not knowing exactly what to do, but he learns quickly and soon, his tongue entangles with mine, pushing against it with equal force.