A Pirate’s Life

“Come a lil’ closer, girl…” a creamy voice rings out.

This is undoubtedly a bad sign for Pix.   She has spent the past 34 hours tightly tucked and rolled in a mucky crawlspace, deep in the belly of a ship. The rotting smell of rat and plank flood her nose until she can no longer stand it, the gagging coming in waves.  In the gut of this rocking, angry beast of a ship, the minutes smear into hours.   How many more days till Spain? she wonders.

A huge crash rocks the side of the vessel, and she can hear the mast creaking and barking.   A steady stream of water grabs at the wall and begins to puddle at her feet.   With utmost caution, she pops the door open, just enough to peer down the corridor.  Judging from the lighting, it is dusk and the gentle storm has just turned into a summer evening shower.  A few voices ring out a level above, crew mates bickering about the latest ration of whiskey and being stuck on shift watch during the storm.  Directly across the hall, a door swings open in the tossing of the ship:  another crawlspace left unoccupied, and much dryer, perhaps even larger.   After a quick scan, she makes the move.

And now she has been discovered on all fours, only inches from the latch.  Pix takes note of the speaker as she looks up.  Tall black boots stop mid-thigh, and from the quality of the garments, she is important.  Quickly, she scurries to her feet and bows her head, terrified and trembling.

“Hmmmm, what do I have here?” the woman says.  She is only about an inch taller, but her posture is confident and almost elegant.  A cream blouse is synched at the waist by a brown corset vest, lifting her large breasts high.  She has thick black hair, popping out from under a swashbuckler hat. Dark brown tights hug the outline of her round bottom, and she gently taps her toe. “Look at me and answer, or I’ll throw yer ass off this ship myself.”

Pix quickly lifts her gaze, large tears beginning to gather in the ducts.  “Please, please! I had to get to Spain! I’ll do anything, please just don’t kill me.”

“Aye, come with me then,” the woman says rudely as she pivots on her heel and begins to walk down the tiny walkway looping around the edge of the ship.  Violent grey waters are churning and gurgling against the base of the boat. Pix follows quickly behind, passing a group of five men playing cards around a table. They are heated over the game and do not notice the women walking by so briskly.  “My name is Samantha Parride, Sam to the crew, and this is my father’s ship.  I could have you murdered for what you’ve done,” she says brusquely.  “What’s your name, girl?”

“Pix, ma’am.”

“Come in then, Pix.”  Sam directs Pix through a door.  She gathers this room to be Sam’s bunk. Piles of books line the floor and painted canvases are sprawled along a wall.  Pix is immediately impressed by the intricate depiction on a woman, each stroke of paint portraying the nude beauty of the model.  The woman posing has small breasts with tiny pink nipples, her belly soft and curvy above a tuft of auburn hair.  The most enthralling part of the painting was not the attention paid to every freckle and mole, or the divine slope of her neck, but instead it was the eyes:  a tiny flicker of mischievous flirtation beckoning the painter to indulge. Pix feels the eyes upon her, and the hairs on her arm stand on end.

“Sit,” Sam orders and points to a chair in the corner.  Pix quickly obliges her host’s request, the panic brewing in the pit of her stomach. The storm has grown feisty and is tossing the ship from left to right.  Sam takes a seat on her bed, pulling her soaking wet gloves and boots off.  Her face softens a bit, “I’m going to be honest with ya. People pay good money to ride on this here ship. You need to pay.” She glances up and down the length of Pix’s body, eyes resting on her long neck.  She pulls off her hat and reveals long tendrils of dark, curly hair.

“But I have no money!” cries out Pix, feeling the impending defeat approaching.  The ocean has become a bitter lover to the vessel, lashing it with tremendous waves.  She grabs a table to balance herself as Sam jumps to her feet and rushes to the door.  Within a second, a thunderous knock assaults the frame. Sam spins quickly, gesturing for her stowaway guest to hide under the table.   The visitor is a deckhand asking for approval to shift paths out of the storm’s direction.   After a moment, she hears the door shut tight, and then the sound of a lock. As Pix crawls out from under the table, the pangs of hunger scream from her stomach and she clutches her gut.

“You need to eat,” Sam directs from across the room.  She is busy preparing two plates of food, the sight of which causes Pix to salivate.  They eat in near silence, a familiar sound to Pix.  Despite the gracious offering, the stowaway is still nervous around this sexy, coy woman, whose vessel she has illegally boarded.  Her stomach is brimming with food, headspace floating high from a delicious glass of wine and quite possibly beginning to enjoy herself…or at least forget her current sour state of events.

“Come sit with me,” Sam sings out as she slides onto the bed. “I’ve enjoyed having another woman on the ship, but we still have business. We’ll have to work out another way for you to pay.  Are you a good listener, Pix?”

Pix quickly nods. Perhaps it is the warmth of the bed beneath them, or the warmth of libations gently stirring her senses, but Pix suddenly becomes alert of the growing dampness between her legs.  Her nipples now awake, the fabric of her tunic feels heavy and abrasive. She watches as Sam slowly begins to unbutton her corset, unleashing two perky breasts.

“I’m ready for my payment,” Sam whispers as she begins to unbutton her stowaway’s tunic, fingers gently slipping under the Long John.  She grabs hold of Pix’s bust, firmly squeezing and cupping her supple breasts…bringing her mouth to meet an erect nipple and gently closing her teeth around it. As she does, she looks directly into Pix’s eyes, playfully smiling as she bites harder.  The slight pain makes Pix’s pussy shudder with apprehension, eyes closed and back arched.  Soft pillows, lips indeed, press against her mouth, causing her to gasp and twist her torso, grinding along the length of Sam’s leg.

“You did a bad thing, Pix.  Bad girls get spankings,” Sam’s hot breath pants.  Her feet are planted on the ground, and she leads Pix to stand, tugging her guest’s leggings to the ground.  Without hesitation, the misbehaved stretches over bent knee.  At first, Sam runs her finger tips from the back of the knee up to the soft flesh of the thighs. Nails gently trail over soft cheeks, goose bumps springing to action.  Suddenly, a thunderous clap ignites the bare ass, followed quickly by the teasing of finger nails.

Pix can feel the warmth radiating against her leg, and she suddenly is compelled to taste Sam. All of her, not just some of her.  “May I pay my penance now?” she whispers into Sam’s open mouth as she climbs beside her on the bed.

“Damn right you will!” Sam moans as she slides her pussy along the length of her leg. They lie facing each other, lips mashing together as they tug each others hair. A perfect rhythm of grinding and sliding is reached, all while gently nibbling and sucking on each others neck.

“The beauty must pay for her passage.  Now make me cum,” Sam pants, still perched on top of her stowaway.  She begins the climb upward, dangling her large breasts into Pix’s mouth, while reaching back and sliding a finger inside of her lover.  Pix grinds passionately against the fingers plunged deep inside her hole, mouth full of soft breast. Her eyes are still closed when she feels the gentle tickle of hair against her cheeks, olfactory senses drowned with the sweet and sticky smell of horny pussy.

Pix unfolds the vixen’s flower, dragging a wet fingertip up and down the creases of her sex. She runs her flat, warm tongue along the entire length, lightly flicking her tongue inward while passing over the tasty cavity.  Sam is arched, nipples erect and pinched between her fingertips, receiving the penance she so clearly wanted.  Pix has worked her way up the clit, alternating a gentle flick of tongue with two fingers plunged and twisting, unlocking secrets of the G-spot.

Suddenly, Sam shifts her body and begins to turn upside down, bodies pressed together in perfect pirate yin and yang. Pix is already wet and the hot mouth pressed against her clit is over whelming. They spend some time getting acquainted, gently circling the most erogenous zone with a fingertip, and then slapping the entire pussy, shocking the nerve endings and leaving them grinding and arching in the air for more.  A perfect rhythm of sucking is reached, and as a piston pumps, they explode and unload into each others mouths. The shared orgasm is shattering; their arms squeezing each other while they moan loader and suck harder.

Sam unmounts her erotic stowaway, face aglow and mouth grinning. The ship has become bumpy again, and she grabs her clothes, brandishing a manner growing more and more serious.  As she tugs her boots up, she looks towards a spent Pix. As she gets to the door she looks over her shoulder and says, “I need to get back. I’ll let you stay in here until we get to port in two days. You’ll need to pay for each of those days!”

“Gladly…” sighs the stowaway.