Pirates 7

Captured by pirates, taught love by a slave.

This story is unlikely to fall under any category other than non-consent with a title like Pirates. However, while it has non-consent, I think it lies between novella, romance and lesbian interactions. At 20,000 words, it's about 1 and 1/4 hours to read it all.

There is a gang-bang scene. If you get to that part and want to skip it, simply search for 'it was time' and read on.

It includes, as a major character, a Black slave girl and despite how despicable and utterly wrong that has always been, historically, it was a part of that time period.

Pirates

Part 1

I awoke from a troubled sleep, feeling oppressed by the heat. Despite nearly a year of living in the Caribbean, I still struggled to deal with the sultry humidity. Once I'd turned 18, my father had demanded that my mother and I join him at his official post on the islands.

I do not know if that was because of rumours that mother had been seen in the company of a wealthy landowner a little too often. But I remember how shocked I'd been by the language she'd used when she heard. The trip was foul, but her mood shifted when she saw how grand our official house was. And just how many servants looked after us. But a governor has to present a certain image.

I set aside the insect netting from around my bed and walked to the open window. The moon reflected off the water in the bay and highlighted the town below. Seeing the ships at the harbour reminded me of my troubles. Albert. The youngest son of a merchant and the one friend I'd made without my parent's meddling.

With my father away and my mother distracted with other things. I'd managed to escape some of the stifling restrictions of my class when I was younger. Freely befriending the village children and playing with boys and girls that would give my mother a fit if she knew. I developed an independent streak no amount of boarding school discipline could banish.

Albert's father sought respectability and to be recognised by the upper classes, but Albert and I cared little for that. We'd known there would be trouble if we were caught together, but all we did was entirely innocent. He would recite poetry to me and sometimes I would dance for him. Showing him some of those fancy dances I'd been taught at boarding school.

His father yearned to move up in society and had tutors for his sons. But the tutors could only teach so much. Especially to youths uninterested in their father's plans. Whilst it started innocently enough, sneaking off together and being alone had unplanned consequences.

I'll admit that there had been a growing undercurrent of attraction between us. With the one exception, when he'd held my hand whilst we navigated some tricky rocks on the beach, he'd never laid a hand on me.

However, our time together sometimes generated unseemly dreams in a young woman. You couldn't grow up on an estate in England without seeing the livestock breeding, and understand in some way that humans did something similar.

Whilst our friendship was still innocent, our sneaking around had drawn attention and now my father had talked to Albert's father, and Albert was being sent back to England. Supposedly for their business, but in truth, to allow time for my father to arrange my marriage. To a suitable crony who would add to my father's power and influence.

Albert's boat sailed on the first tide, and I had to see him before he went. He told me he would be gone for almost two years, and I felt guilty that he was being sent away because of me. If things could run their course, we may have grown close enough to warrant this action. But at the moment I felt like a heroine of some penny broadsheet about unrequited love.

My nightdress stuck to my flesh in the relentless heat. I'd heard the butler comment he expected a storm any day and hoped it would clear the air. I slipped out of my nightdress and washed myself with the water on my nightstand. And my nipples rose. The combination of cold water and wicked thoughts of standing naked at the open window. Where anyone might look up and see me, caused a shiver to pass through me. Just because I was naïve didn't mean I was entirely innocent.

I slipped into a chemise and petticoat, then entered my maid Molly's tiny room. As usual, she was lying on her back and snoring. I woke her and told her I needed her help to dress. She slipped from her bed half asleep and followed me to my room. Only then noting the hour.

"Miss, it's the middle of the night? What are you doing?"

"Not the middle of the night, it must be at least 3 am."

"Are you going to say goodbye to your young man? You will not do something silly and disgrace yourself, are you, miss?"

"No. And for the last time, Albert and I only ever held hands once. By your logic, I should be married off to our preacher. I've shaken hands with him dozens of times."

"Don't joke, Miss, I heard he is in the market for a new wife after the last one passed away."

A shudder passed through me at the thought. Our priest was easily 50 and just the sort of person who my father might choose.

"No corset, just my overdress." I said.

"Are you sure, Miss? If your mother finds out you went out without your full set of clothing, she might jump to conclusions."

"My mother can jump to whatever conclusions she wishes. If she thinks the worst of me, then it's her filthy mind that is dreaming it up."

My tone brooked no disagreement, and Molly expertly slipped me into my dress.

"Oh, your shoes will be in the kitchen. Samuel was supposed to polish them before he finished his duties." Molly glided from the room and not for the first time did I wish that women's clothes were designed so one could dress oneself.

But I suppose that is according to your position in society. The higher up you got, the more dependent on others you became.

When Molly didn't return, I slipped barefoot and without stockings onto the landing to look for her. Something struck me as wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Then I detected a scent that was out of place. Garlic and some coarse alcohol. I whipped around as a figure emerged from the shadows. All I remember before it went dark was wild eyes and an evil grin.

I awoke with a splitting headache and tried to call out for Molly, but my throat was parched. Then I knew something was terribly wrong. I recognised the damp humidity of a ship's bowels. Opening my eyes, my heart sank. I was in the hold of a ship that was only illuminated by a single lamp on the far side of the room. Between me and the door was a wall of iron bars. If that wasn't bad enough, I saw my hands were in heavy shackles.

I sat up with a start and groaned in pain and fear. Around my neck was a heavy manacle, connected by chains to my wrists. They looked as if they could tether a bull. And I felt similar manacles around my ankles. A stab of propriety cut through everything else as I remembered I was stocking less and without my proper undergarments. For some reason, I heard my old nanny admonishing me for leaving the house without the appropriate clothing.

The worry that whoever had shackled my legs would have seen them, or worse, seemed of minor consequences given the circumstances. I noticed I was dressed as I had been and sitting on a narrow cot bolted to the floor. Moving my legs revealed just how heavy the chains were. Even if I could escape my cell and get off the boat, I'd sink to the bottom of the sea in an instant. And I could tell from the rocking of the boat that we were sailing.

I caught a movement from the corner of my eyes and tensed up. Then I spotted a pair of eyes looking at me from a hammock suspended at the other end of the room. The eyes looked unnaturally wide and bright in the gloom, and I wondered what creature they could belong to. When I saw a wide toothy smile, I realised it was a Negroid child watching me.

When they leapt down from the hammock with practised skill, I realised I was wrong. It was a young woman of slight stature. Her femininity was obvious, as she wore only a loincloth. Her breasts were small and high on her chest, and her skin was the darkest of any person I'd ever encountered. She approached me warily, as if she was the one in the cage and not me. Speaking to me in a tongue I couldn't understand, she made a few gestures, then turned and scampered out of the room.

As she went, I noticed scars around her wrists and ankles and a faint scar around her neck. It seemed obvious that she had endured shackles, and I wondered how long it took to develop scars like that. I imagined how polite English society would treat me if I sustained them. But polite English society might be a pipe dream for me now. One maid I'd had growing up, told tales of white ladies whisked off to Moroccan slave blocks to be sold and abused by men. Was that my fate?

Trying not to dwell on that, I took stock of my physical condition. I found a lump on the back of my head, where I presumed I'd been rendered unconscious, and my body felt sore and abused. Almost as if I had fallen down the stairs. There was blood under some of my fingernails, and I saw the shackles had chaffed and split the skin on my wrist and ankles. A tentative examination of my neck revealed it appeared whole, but the weight on my collar bones was painful.

The shackles on my wrists were large and, with perseverance and accepting a little pain, I might slip free of them. The same might be done for my ankles if I was prepared to sacrifice a layer or two of skin. But the one around my neck was going nowhere, and with them all chained together, it was helpless unless I could figure out how to pick the lock.

I heard sounds of someone approaching, and the young woman reappeared, leading three men. She grinned at me, then nimbly climbed back into her hammock to watch proceedings. Their leader wore a tricorn hat and had pistols and swords in his belt. The man on his right looked vaguely familiar, as if I'd seen him as a rough sailor in port. The man on his left was barely more than a boy and carried a lamp.

"Awake at last Miss? Had enough beauty sleep? Good. Let me introduce ourselves. I am Captain Anders. This is my first mate, Marcus. It was he who set you in irons as a little payback for the gift you gave him."

Marcus turned his head sideways, and I saw three scratches down his face, and I felt a tiny flicker of pride that I'd not been entirely defenceless. Now I could see him more clearly, I recognised his eyes.

"Finally, this is young Kleb. It will be he who delivers a message to your father. To set your mind at rest, our only interest in you is your ransom. If your father pays up freely and in a timely manner, then you will leave here with hardly a hair of your head touched. If not..." He shrugged and stepped up to the bars.

"We need you to add a personal missive to the letter of ransom, to ensure he knows it is genuine." He nodded to Kleb, who produced a writing board with the letter attached.

He held them through the bars towards me.

"I'm hardly able to write with these on." I responded and shook my shackles.

The captain looked annoyed and held out keys to Marcus, who unlocked the cell and stepped inside. I tensed as his body language suggested he would love to beat me for the sake of it. Instead, he yanked my head sideways painfully, as he tried to work the key into the shackle around my neck. He seemed to apply undue pressure, and I fought back tears, not wanting him to see me weak.

The shackle came free, and I gasped as he let me go. I eyed him and saw the mean streak in his eyes. He let the shackle fall to the deck with a loud thump that missed my bare feet by inches. I gritted my teeth as he removed the shackles on my wrists, and I whipped my feet out of the way before he could try to repeat that trick.

As he knelt and grabbed an ankle, I was hit with the nearly overpowering urge to give him matching scratches on the other cheek. But even my stubborn nature was not that reckless. He shocked me by yanking my foot up above my waist, and I let out a shriek as my dress fell away, exposing much of my thigh. All three men chuckled as they saw me struggle to maintain some decency.

I was ready for that trick when he removed the last shackle. The captain stepped into the small cage, and I felt extremely vulnerable. Any of the three men could have overpowered me, let alone with two in such a confined space. The captain examined my wrists and neck, then gestured that Marcus should take the shackles away. He scowled at me as he removed the shackles and himself from the cell and Kleb came in and handed me the board with the letter.

Holding the lamp close, I saw it was already addressed to my father and in a rough but readable hand. It was fairly predictable, polite entreaties and a demand for a sizable sum, but within the realm of possibility for a man of my father's stature. Dire warnings about failure to pay or trying to double-cross the pirates.

"I think you should assure your father that you are currently well, but you believe our threats to your person. And plead that he take the matter with the utmost seriousness." The captain said.

I took the offered quill and scribbled off a few lines as the captain had ordered, and handed back the letter. The captain nodded and then drew a wickedly sharp looking dagger and cut off a small hank of my hair and handed it to Kleb. He took the hair and letter, then left the room, and Marcus followed.

The captain stepped out of my cell and locked the door, then made a strange whistle and clicking sound. The Black girl was at his side in an instant.

"This here we call Bounty." He said and his hand dropped and slapped her backside.

The girl hardly flinched as he did it, or as he groped her bum in front of me.

"She's most accommodating and will be here to look after your every need. While she doesn't speak English, she understands a few words and phrases. If you need something she cannot understand, tell her to get the captain. With luck, you will only be our unfortunate guest for a little over a week. If not, I'll be forced to feed you to either my crew or the sharks. I don't know which is crueller."

He handed the keys to my cell to Bounty and left, chuckling.

The girl studied me, then made an eating motion with her hands and I shook my head. I ached too much to eat, so I returned to my bunk and tried not to weep.

With no external references, I had no way of telling what time it was. Presumably Albert had already left for England, unless someone had discovered my absence beforehand. In which case, his ship and others in the vicinity would comb the waters seeking these pirates.

Eventually, I heard a tapping on my cell and a rattle of keys. I turned to see Bounty holding a bowl, with a hunk of bread balanced on top of it in one hand, and a large flagon in the other. She entered the cell and handed them over.

I was surprised to find the bread was fresh and warm, if of inferior quality. The bowl contained an overly salty mutton stew that I had to eat with my fingers. I snatched up the flagon and took a deep gulp, then nearly spat it all out. Expecting water or watered wine, not harsh liquor. I'd swallowed most of it before it registered, and I gasped as it burned all the way down to my stomach.

Bounty laughed hard at my error and, despite our differences in appearance, it reminded me of my interactions with my younger sisters.

"Well, you try it then." I said and pushed the flagon toward her.

Her eyes lit up, and she greedily guzzled from the vessel, and I wondered how she managed that. But I suppose you get used to things over time. Like the Captain groping her like that. It sent a shiver down my spine at the thought that she'd not reacted at all to the treatment. What else did she have to do?

She left and returned a minute later and handed me the flagon again. This time I could tell she had added fresh water to it, and I sipped it carefully. She grinned when I smiled at her. Then I took the last of the bread and used it to wipe up the last dregs of the stew. I finished them with relish.

As she took the bowl away, I noted that she'd not locked the cell, and I wondered if I should make a break for it. But the rolling of the boat reminded me we were at sea, and I'd have nowhere to go. Bounty returned with a small bucket of warm water and gestured that I should wash my hands.

I winced as I put my hands in the water as the heated seawater stung my scrapes. She looked concerned and examined my wrists. Then pointed at the scarring on her neck and said something in her tongue. She left again and returned with a small tub of something that smelt like lard infused with lavender and thyme.

She gestured I should remove the dress and seemed confused when I showed her I could not remove it alone. But she helped me out of my overdress, and I felt very vulnerable with just my chemise and a single petticoat. And here she was walking around naked but for a loincloth.

Then, before I could stop her, she pulled down my petticoat and removed my chemise. I tried to cover up, but she laughed at me and mimed big breasts and I blushed. I'd taken after my mother in that regard. Staring at the door, dreading that someone would come in and find me naked. Bounty applied the salve to all my cuts and scrapes. She used a cloth to scrub roughly on parts of my body to remove smudges of dirt to check if they were bruises or worse. When she was done, she slapped me lightly on my buttocks and said something in her tongue. From her tone it sounded complimentary, but it might have been something about the captain appreciating my rounder buttocks.

I quickly put my chemise and petticoat back on, but Bounty took my dress away and locked my cell. When I called out after her, she showed me where blood, dirt and ordure had stained the material. With the smell from the room, I'd not even noticed.

With no blanket to cover myself, I lay back on my cot and hoped nobody would come for me. To some extent, Bounty locking me in made me feel a little safer. I'd been brought up on tales of how rough and dangerous even regular sailors could be. How much worse would pirates be?

Sometime later, I heard Bounty return and climb into her hammock. I lay there shivering for a time until I heard the lock opening. I looked over in alarm to see Bounty carrying a thin blanket. Smiling at her in gratitude and then in surprise as she climbed into bed with me. She snuggled up in front of me and spread the blanket over us both.

I had slept in the same bed as my sisters when I was small. But sharing my bed with the strange African woman seemed wrong in some way. Even if I could feel her body warmth seeping into me. Perhaps it was the strong liquor earlier, but having another living soul pressed against me just felt comforting.

I was drifting into a half sleep and thinking of Albert. Somehow, I'd stowed away on his ship, and we were heading back to England. He had found me, and we'd lay down together just to sleep. I could feel his naked back to me, and my hand caressed his skin. Then suddenly I was abruptly pulled from sleep, and I felt a breast in my hand.

I was appalled, and tried to pull it off Bounty before she woke. But she held my arm trapped under hers. She was remarkably strong for someone her size. She muttered something sleepily, then released my arm. I pulled my arm away, and she made a disappointed sound, but went back to sleep.

I lay awake for hours, worrying about my situation. Until I finally realised that worrying about things I had no control over was a waste of my time and effort. If anything, it only made things worse. I had to accept what happened to me and look for an opportunity to change my fortune.

Part 2