The Pirate Queen's Prisoner Ch. 01

Dahlia DeLabron, also known as Black Dahlia, pirate queen of the Caribbean looked down at her prisoner. Osmond had been a good navigator, handsome enough that she noticed him once or twice, not bad in a fight the few times her ship had come under attack. There had always been something odd about him, just a bit off. Now she knew what it was. He was a spy.

A day ago Dahlia had been hiding her latest take of loot from an English supply ship on its way to Port Royal. The cargo taken was valuable but too heavy to cart around until a buyer could be found. If one of her majesties frigates were to find ship, "The Spanish Dancer", so laden there'd be no chance at escape. So the goods were buried on one of a dozen small, isolated islands and the ship set out. About an hour later her first officer reported their charts and compass were missing, about five minutes after that they realized that Osmond was missing as well.

The ship sped back and she had search parties scour the island to find her missing crewman. The deserter was found trying to launch a small boat someone had hidden for him there but the charts and compass were gone. He'd apparently hidden them somewhere when he realized his capture was imminent. A search for the missing navigational items turned up empty and thirty lashes tied to the main mast hadn't gotten her prisoner to confess. Time was running out because Dahlia knew her majesty's navy must have now been searching the area for the missing merchantman she'd sent to Davie Jones locker (after looting it's cargo, of course).

Osmond had stood up to his beating well, endured the lashes even better. She was impressed but that wouldn't grant him any mercy. It was obvious that he was tough and wasn't going to be broken by the usual methods. Maybe it was watching him shirtless enduring the lashes, maybe it was the look on his face when the whip hit him...so much like the face a man made when he climaxed. Maybe it was the rum, as Dahlia was known to down a jug or more when feeling frustrated. Whatever it was, as she looked down on her prisoner, tied face up on her bed, a tingle had already started deep in her loins.

Osmond was exhausted; his body ached from the beating and whipping. He was sweaty, dirty; the raw lash marks sticking to the rum and sweat stained sheets below him. His dream of a comfortable life, rich and respected, a hero to the crown was over. His plan was a good one, one that had almost worked. Even now, there was a slim chance the "Champion" would find "The Spanish Dancer", maybe even catch her and board her but he was certain Captain Delabron would slit his throat before the first grapple lines hit her ship. There would be no dramatic rescue for him. The navigator knew his fate was sealed.

"You've taken your licks Osmond; I must say I am impressed. Very impressed, but you know and I know that you are going to tell me where those charts and compass are. It's only a matter of how much more you are going to suffer." Dahlia began, stroking her navigator's cheek, and sitting on the bed beside him.

Her captive chuckled, "Tell you? Why? So you can get what you want and kill me? No thanks, Captain. If I'm fated to die, I'll die my way. And as for things we both know, let's add something to that list. We both know that if I were going to break, I would have done so by now. I've accepted the fact that I am never leaving here alive, you'd better accept the fact that I'm not going to tell you where your charts and compass are."

The captain almost drew her pistol and put a hole in her prisoner. His words made her blood boil, because she knew that the bastard was right. She'd seen men break, seen them beg for mercy and their lives. Osmond wasn't going to break. He had her, trapped, a perfect checkmate. She couldn't kill him and he couldn't tell her where the charts were. She had no idea what a clever son of a bitch Osmond was, she'd been impressed before but now...it was almost admiration. The brass balls on the man...even helpless, with his life hanging the balance, he stood his ground. She felt a slickness and throb rise in her sex. Here, at last, was a real man. She smiled, took a drink from the jug and then put it down beside the bed. Dahlia looked down at him, put her hand on his chest and said, "It doesn't have to be this way, Osmond."

Osmond looked up at her with suspicious eyes. "Of course not, you could release me."

"You want release...maybe I can arrange that." She reached down and took up the jug of rum, offering it to his lips, "Drink."

He smirked up at her, "No thank you captain, I don't drink."

Her smile vanished, replaced by that fire behind her eyes that burned when she was locked in combat. Her hand flew out, smacking him soundly across the face. "I wasn't asking you, bilge rat. Now drink!" She then grabbed him by the hair, yanking it so hard some of it tore lose from his scalp and poured rum into his open, gasping mouth. He sputtered and choked, but she slammed her palm over his mouth, forcing him to swallow the thick, sweet fluid or drown in it. He swallowed, drinking down a goodly amount, his head swimming.

"You bitch, that was vile. It's the devil's drink!" He closed his eyes, as the alcohol coursed through his empty stomach and into his bloodstream.

Dahlia laughed, "The devil's drink? Maybe we should get you a wet-nurse, let you suckle some mothers milk." The captain scooted higher on the bed, reached up to her bodice and pulled down the chemise over one breast. It was pale, the tan line showing clearly as her visible skin was constantly exposed to the warm Caribbean sun. The tip of her breast surrounding her nipple was dark, dark as rum, dark as a plum. Osmond could hardly believe what he was seeing. Dahlia caressed the nipple with her fingers, twisted and tugged her teat, teasing it to fullness. She then cupped the underside of breast with her hand, lifting the full round globe of her womanly flesh to her captive. "Here Osmond, take a suckle on this. It seems to be more to your liking."

Osmond shut his eyes and turned away. The captain then leaned forward, pressing her bare breast all over his face, hissing with pleasure as the pebbled flesh of her dark areola scrapped against his stubble. These made her captive shiver, close his eyes tighter and try to turn even further away. She pressed her breast over his mouth, pushing it down flat over his tightly closed mouth. "Osmond, come out and play...mmmmm, just a suckle on my tit. Nobody's watching..." she teased her captive.

This made her navigator thrash on the bed. He screamed, "Get away from me! Cover yourself up, you shameless slut! Have you no decency?"

Captain Dahlia was getting more and more aroused but his words threatened to put her off her tonic. She pulled out a blade from behind her bodice and held it above his head. She yanked his hair, turning his head to her. "No, I bloody well don't! Now, you suck on my tit or I'll fucking have your eye! If you try to bite me, I'll cut off your balls and use them to bait a lobster pot! You try me Osmond, you fucking try me and you'll end up a one eyed, ball-less freak!"

Osmond's eyes showed that he understood. This wasn't about the map, or the compass. He had offended her as a woman. Osmond had served with her for two years; he'd seen some of the men who had crossed her. He knew she meant what she said. He relaxed on the bed, leaned back into the pillow and parted his lips.

The captain sighed, squirmed on the bed and slammed the dagger into the top of the headboard. She then cupped her breast, lifted it to her captive's lips, which closed over her teat and began to suck. Dahlia moan, caressed his cheek and muttered, "There there now, that's a good boy. Mamma's here...mamma's here...oh yes, use your tongue Osmond, lick it...like a circle around the tip as you suckle."

Osmond suckled on his captain's nipple and obeyed her command, dragging the tip of his tongue around the textured skin around it. He was surprised how cool her breast felt on his face, how damp. He was also surprised how she smelled. It was a mix of old sweat, rum coming out of her pores and the musky unwashed scent wafting from her nearby armpit. He almost gagged but felt her caressing hand on his cheek shift, pressing her long fingernails into the flesh of his cheek. He forced himself to calm, to focus on pleasing her with his mouth and her fingers eased back into a caress. Osmond soon found himself getting use to the smell, the body odor of his captor as she pressed against him.

The captain moaned, squirmed and pressed her thighs together. Her other hand freed her other breast, yanking her shirt down and lifting her tit flesh over it. She thought of cutting her bodice straps, ripping it from her body, but remembered the hunting British naval vessels. Dahlia needed to be ready to take command, so she'd keep her clothes on. She saw Osmond watching her, her nipple in his mouth and she smiled down at him. The captain then began to play with her other nipple, tugging on it, twisting it, gripping the whole of her full breast and squeezing it, partly for her own pleasure and partly because Osmond could clearly see him do it.

Below her, helpless on the bed, Osmond's eyes welled up with tears. This wasn't the way it was suppose to be. This was humiliation. It was suppose to be beautiful, a joyous union after the exchanging of vows before the eyes of God. This was nothing but carnal pleasure, a mortal sin. The tears ran down his face, in his shame. Osmond could feel his manhood stiffen and ache, and he hated himself for it.

Whatever the reason, her captive's tears sent an electric jolt threw the captain's loins. She smiled down at him and muttered, "There there now, my beautiful baby. Don't cry." Dahlia then withdrew her breast from his face, easing her rock hard nipple from his mouth. "Yes, no need for tears, my hungry boy. Momma's got plenty more on this side..."

Osmond sobbed as his captain pressed her other breast down, shoving her unsuckled nipple into his mouth. He closed his mouth on her and sucked, licking harder than before. She could tell the difference and moaned, pressing her thighs together harder. "God Forgive Me", Osmond thought. His captive sensed the hunger behind his actions and giggled. "Oh yes, you're such a good boy. Mmmm, teeth now, just a little...tease me Osmond...yes...Oh, a bit harder, that's mamma's good boy. "

Suddenly Osmond heard fabric being shifted about and noticed his captain pulling her dress up a bit. Her booted foot is placed on the bed and she shoved one of her hands under her clothing, between her legs. Dahlia shifted away from her captive's lips, lying beside him, resting her head on his arm as his wrist is tied to the bedpost. The navigator looked down, but all he can see is her arm thrust under her skirt, working back and forth. Her legs spread wide and a musky; heady sent begins filling the room.

"What...what are you doing? In the name of God, stop it!" Osmond pleaded, but his captain only turned to him.

Dahlia moaned and chuckled. "What do you think I am doing? Kiss me Osmond."

He turns away, shakes himself, trying to get away from her. It's no use. "Stop that, stop it this instant! If you must touch yourself, at least do it in private. What sort of woman are you?"

She laughs at his efforts and moans. "I'm a wanton one, who'd close to have a nice hard cum. Come on now. Kiss me. Don't make me get the knife. I'm close. Once I am satisfied, I'll stop."

The navigator then turned to her, kissing Dahlia deeply. Her tongue pushed into his mouth and licked against his. She tasted of rum, but now so does he. She kissed him deeper and deeper, working her fingers faster and faster under her skirt. Osmond heard the wet, slapping noises coming from under her skirts and turned his head to watch.

Her moans became shallow pants, until she notices where his eyes are. "Does mamma's boy want to watch mamma play?"

Her words hit him hard. Watch her? He shook his head no, even pulled back in revulsion. But he was betrayed. His hips pushed forward and he moaned, a needful little squeak of a moan, but a moan just the same. Did he want to watch? There was only one real answer.

Dahlia smiled again and got off the bed. She yanked the knife out of the headboard. "Cross me, or take your eyes off me, and I'll hurl this between your legs." She then sat on the armchair beside her desk and turned it towards the bed. She put the back of her knees over the arms of the chair and then lifted up her dress. Osmond wanted to look away but found that he could not.

Her booted feet hung and dangled in mid air. The captain's skirt framed her muscular legs, which were covered in thin black hair! Some were long, some were short, but her natural growth clung to her in all its glory. Dahlia wore long dresses and had not had a serious lover in almost a year. She wasn't even sure if she still owned a razor. The hair on her legs was nothing compared to what rested between them.

Thick black hair, a burst of damp curls running up in a triangle reaching to her belly. Dahlia reached down and opened herself, pushing apart the fleshy mound to show the bright pink folds beneath. Two of her fingers extended and pressed against her folds, pinching her clit between them. She worked herself fast and hard in a tight little oval. Her other hand reached down, sinking two fingers into her body with a deep and soulful moan. "Are you watching Osmond? Are you watching mama play with her honeypot?"

She glanced up and saw that he was, seeing that he could not turn away. He could smell her need; see dewdrops of her arousal clinging to her dark musky curls. She drove her fingers in and out of her body, faster and faster, working her clit in smaller and smaller circles. Panting, moaning, she glanced up, looking into Osmond's eyes. Knowing there were eyes on her made things better, more satisfying. Soon she was suffering little jerks and convulsions, moaning louder and louder. "Good boy, watch mama...Watch me...Watch me OSMOND. I'm....I'm cumming!"

The captive, helplessly tied to the bed, was torn with many different emotions. He hated her, she disgusted him and he was shocked at the woman's lack of shame. But he also wanted her, wanted to shove his hard manhood as deeply into her fur-covered sex as he could. If his hand was free he would have gripped his cock but he was firmly tied down so all he could do was shift his hips around. He moaned as his attempts to get any relief for his arousal failed. "At least", he thought to himself, "It was over."

The captive looked up to see Dahlia shivering, slowly withdrawing her wet, sticky fingers from inside of herself. Her skin was flush, her nipples were hard and he could see her thighs trembling like the surface of a sail in uneven wind. She opened her eyes and found him still watching her. The captain noticed Osmond's hips moving and she listened to his whimpering moans. It made her clit throb, even as the last climax was fading. The bulge under his clothes was large and her curiosity was peaked. She put her feet down, one at a time, her boots thumping onto the wooden floor. The captain stood slowly and stalked over to the bed, her bare breasts bouncing with ever step, swaying with the pitch and roll of "The Spanish Dancer".

Dahlia then placed her hand on her captive's cock, scratching her nails along its length. This made Osmond moan, hiss and try to pull away. "You said it would be over if I watched you! Stop this, right now. Cover yourself and leave me be!"

The captain chuckled, "I said I'd stop when I was satisfied. I'm not. It takes more than one quick diddle to quench my need. I'm a woman, a real woman, not one of those powdered virginal idiots back on shore." She then griped his hard cock, stroking it over his trousers, pulling a moan from Osmond as he pushed his hips forward. "Besides, it's time to see what sort of man you are, my pretty little boy. Be a good boy, show mamma your nice hard cock." Her hand rose, the sharp knife in it. Osmond gasped, but his captor only cut away his pants, freeing his hard straining cock to the open air.

Her prisoner was horrified, "No! NO! I said no, you can't do this! Stop it this instant you hussy!"

Now it was Dahlia's turn to gasp. It seemed her "good little boy" was more of a man than she had ever seen. What was it about the quiet ones, she wondered? She took his manhood in her hand and pulled it upright like a ship's mast and fished his balls out with her other hand. She moaned and closed her hand around the base. It was wide around, thick and hard. It stood tall, very tall and the head was soaked with slick pre-cum, making it appears polished. "Tell Momma how you managed to trade dicks with a whale?"

Osmond closed his eyes, tried to pull away. His captain then leaned against him, holding him down with her weight. He could feel her heavy breasts pressing on his hips and thighs, making things so much better and so much worse. "I....I don't want you touching me. I don't like it. Stop....please just stop it."

She stroked it once, then twice, rubbing the balls. "You don't really want me to stop, do you?" Dahlia blinked, as his cock throbbed and actually swelled to a fuller size. The marvelous, long cock hadn't even been fully erect before. She sighs and muttered, "Oh fuck".

The navigator was moaning, hissing through his teeth, trying not to pump his hips up into her hand, and failing miserably. He replies, "Y..yes...I do."

Dahlia smiled, knowing a lie when she hears it. "You were a much better liar when you were planning to sell me out to the British, Osmond." She then licked her thumb and winked up at him. Suddenly her hand flew into frantic pumping, gripping his cock hard. She pressed her wetted thumb into the underside of the massive member's head. Her captive moaned and arched his back, thrashing his head back and forth. "You don't look like you want me to stop, my beautiful little boy."

The prisoner began panting hard, working his hips up and down, trying to match the pace of his captain's hand. He could feel the rough skin on her palm, calloused by hauling rope and climbing rigging, but to him it felt like heaven. Osmond had only used his own hand in this way, and even then only three times in his life when he felt particularly weak. Dahlia Delebron, the pirate queen, was the first woman to ever touch him in such a manner. He knew this wouldn't take long; he was in such a desperate need of release after the things he'd been forced to do and to witness. Osmond needed the release, needed to lose his cum badly, but more than that it meant her vile game would end. Just....a few more....strokes...! Suddenly she let go and leaned back, pushing him down on the bed with her full weight so he couldn't even thrust his hips. His mind screamed in agony, his cock throbbed in frustration. Osmond moaned out, almost screaming in anguish.

"No no, my pretty one. Mamma's not going to let you cum. Not unless you give her the compass and the charts..." The pirate queen teased him.

Osmond couldn't think, the room was spinning, his body almost vibrating with need. "You'll...you'll just kill me if you get them..." He swallowed, relaxing somewhat. "No.... I'm not telling you where they are."

"Oh come now Osmond? Do you think I'd kill a man with a cock like this? It would be like burning a fine painting, smashing a jade vase. No, I'm not going to kill you." Dahlia then gripped his cock again, very lightly. "I know you need to shoot. Mamma wants you to shoot it, but you need to tell mama where her things are." Her hand started moving up and down again, but slowly this time, her grip just a light caress.

Her captive moaned. "God help me. Oh God in heaven give me strength."

The pirate queen laughed, "God isn't going to make you cum Osmond, but I will. You need to be pleading with me for help, not God."