Princess & the Pirates

In the sheltered cove the two landing boats touched the sand at the same time, about a hundred yards apart. Although the two pirate crews had met to trade, they still regarded each other warily. The landing parties approached slowly, watching for signs of betrayal. Still, the men were reasonably confident, as confident as anyone could be when dealing with thieving scum. These two ships had met on this Caribbean island many times before, and the transactions had always been mutually satisfactory. The leaders of each party talked for a while, showed each other their wares, and agreements were reached.

Finally, the Spaniard said, "We have something else. Something we know your Captain is fond of."

"All right, let's see," answered the First Mate of the French brigand.

The Spaniard raised his hand and a crewman approached from the rowboat carrying a sack. What could this be, the Frenchman thought? Too big for treasure - maybe a hundredweight of fresh fruit? He reached the trading party and placed the sack on the ground. Untying the cord he turned it over and pulled away the dirty canvas. On the sand sat a beautiful woman of about twenty years. She was dressed in the gown of a young Spanish lady, obviously one of some wealth. She squinted in the sunlight, blinking while her eyes adjusted from the darkness of the sack.

The French pirate knew Captain Renoir would be pleased, but he hid his eagerness in order to improve his bargaining position.

"Well, I suppose she might be worth something. If your men haven't ruined her!"

"Untouched," the Spaniard assured him. "I swear we have kept her away from all the men. There were plenty of other women in the captured ship for our pleasure. This one was so fine we saved her for a trade."

Jean-Pierre knew his Captain liked them with their spirit unbroken. He preferred that happy task himself. A price was agreed upon and the men shared a drink of rum to end their trading session. Isabella Theresa Alonzo de la Vega, beautiful young Spanish noblewoman, was now the property of the French pirate ship "The Golden Sword".

Back at the ship the French Captain greeted the precious cargo with appreciation. She stood on the deck, averting her eyes as he walked around her and took in her lovely features. As he moved, his gold earring sparkled in the sunlight. She was petite, no more than a couple of inches over five feet, with a slender waist, ample breasts and full hips. The young aristocrat seemed tiny next to the hulking pirates.

"This one is very special. I shall keep her in my cabin," he said to his First Mate.

Suddenly the beauty looked up at the Captain, defiance flashing in her dark eyes.

"Never!" she spat. "I will never give myself to you, pig!"

"Wonderful!" The Captain grinned. "Filled with Spanish spirit, like a true thoroughbred!"

"Pig! Dog!" she yelled at him. "The King will hang you all!"

A burst of laughter from the crew told her that these men did not fear the Spanish crown.

"You do not wish to be my personal companion?" mocked the Captain. He was handsome in a rough way, with long hair and a goatee beard.

Her cold stare was his answer.

"Fine. But I assure you that by the time we are finished you will beg me to take you."

"Never! I will die first!"

"That will not be necessary. You will change your mind long before that."

Although she was outwardly defiant, her confidence was beginning to waiver. What torture did he have in mind for her? Would they whip her? She had never suffered real hardship, and could only hope her resolve would remain unbroken. Educated in a convent, she had been raised with images of martyrs suffering horrible tortures for their faith. Since she was a girl she had imagined that if called upon to do so, she too would remain faithful to the end. She was determined to endure any torture for her virtue. But there was one more possibility.

"The king will pay handsomely for my safe return," she said, trying to keep a note of pleading out of her voice.

Captain Renoir laughed, shattering her last hope. "I have a ship full of treasure. Ransom means nothing to me. You are the treasure I seek."

He stepped back and the First Mate came forward. Grabbing her slender wrists he quickly tied a piece of rope around them and secured it to a black iron ring above her head on the mast. The crew was silent as they stared at the bound woman. Her eyes were clenched tightly shut as she avoided their hungry gazes. The Mate pulled a dagger from his belt and began to cut her elegant brocade gown away from her trembling body. In minutes she stood before them in her corset and pantaloons, shame flushing her face crimson. The mounds of her generous bosom bulged from the tight corset. Reaching to her head he pulled out the ivory comb that held her long black hair in a knot. The radiant tresses tumble free, shiny and thick.

With both her hands bound to a single ring, the Mate easily turned her around so her face was to the mast. The crew looked at her straight back, criss-crossed with the laces of her corset. The Mate pulled his cutlass and slowly, gently inserted the sharp blade up her back under the tight laces. As the cold steel slid along her smooth skin she shuddered and a soft whimper escaped her throat. With a single jerk of his arm the razor-sharp sword sliced through the laces and her corset fell to the deck. She was bare from the waist up; her perfect smooth back exposed to the crew.

What now? she thought. Is he going to whip me? If he does I will not cry out. Holy Mary please give me strength! She was grateful that her back was to the men, hiding her bare breasts.

But even that small consolation was short-lived. The Mate grabbed her arm and spun her around, and suddenly she was facing the evil pirate crew, her perfect, proud breasts completely exposed to their stares. She heard gasps of appreciation from within the crowd, but she kept her eyes clenched shut, unable to look at them. Against her will, her smooth pink areolas had begun to pucker, and her nipples were hardening.

Oh, God, no, she thought. Don't let them see my nipples getting hard! It's just the cool air, she lied to herself.

The Mate looked down at the snowy mounds of flesh and grinned.

"What's this?" the Captain mocked. "Her nipples are getting hard. Is it possible our proud beauty is actually becoming aroused?"

With that he reached out and grasped one of the sensitive nubs between his thumb and forefinger. She gasped, and her knees sagged, pulling on the rope securing her wrists to the iron ring. He rolled the tip of her breast between his fingers, as if judging a piece of fine silk.

"Bring the brazier," he ordered. "And put the branding irons in the coals."

Her eyes shot open wide at the words, and she was looking directly into the cruel eyes of the Captain.

Oh, Jesus, no. They can't do that, please don't let them do that!

"That will be for later, my dear. If it is necessary." His threat gave her hope that she could avoid the searing pain of the branding iron.

Now the Mate took out his dagger again and began to slice away her pantaloons. The final piece of her dignity would soon be gone. As he yanked away the shreds of white linen her ivory thighs were bared. She squeezed her knees tightly together, hoping to protect her sex. The men stared at the silken fur of her mound, many beginning to breathe more rapidly. The gorgeous captive, bound and completely naked before them except for her high-heeled shoes, was a profoundly stimulating sight.

Captain Renoir reached down and forced his hand between her thighs. Though she pressed them together with all her might, he pushed them open as easily as parting a silken curtain. She was trembling like a frightened bird, but whether from fear or from arousal he couldn't tell. He knew that once in a great while they were fortunate enough to acquire a female captive who was unable to keep from becoming aroused by her captivity. Years of sheltered denial and thoughts of suffering martyrs sometimes produced a woman who secretly craved the humiliation of being sexually tormented in front of the crew. And if this was such a woman, she was certainly the most beautiful one he had seen. The final proof was only inches away.

Sliding his hand up the silken skin of her inner thigh, he approached her sex. She was whimpering now, pleading with him.

"Please, no. Oh please don't! I beg you, sir, have mercy. I am a virgin."

He ignored her pleas, and his rough hand reached the junction of her thighs. He cupped her sex and she cried out. He pressed, and his finger slipped along the tight furrow. He had his proof. The haughty Spanish virgin was betrayed by the soaking wetness of her cleft.

Withdrawing his hand, still staring into her eyes, he reached back and held his hand up for them to see. As the men saw the dew on his fingers glistening in the Caribbean sunlight, a mighty cheer rose from the pirate crew.

Tears rolled down the cheeks of the vanquished beauty and fell onto the glistening swells of her naked breasts.

The First Mate untied her hands from the ring and lifted her easily, carrying her to a nearby hatch cover that could serve as a platform. Placing the squirming young woman on the surface he gestured to several crew to grab her wrists and ankles and hold her down. They pulled her legs apart, revealing her glistening slit to the staring pirates. Her sex was covered with fine silky dark hair, and the tight crack was shiny with her juices.

Hanging from his belt was a leather pouch and a long wide leather strap. He withdrew an ivory-handled razor from the pouch and opened the blade. With expert strokes he sharpened the blade on the strap. When the captive girl heard the sound she looked up, saw the blade sparkling in the sun and gasped,

"Dear Jesus, what are you going to do?"

Jean-Pierre bent over the girl and pinched a clump of her pubic fur in his thumb and forefinger.

"Don't move, my dear, or you may get cut."

Isabella froze in fear as her used the razor to slice away the clump of hair. He continued to cut away her hair until her mound and pussy lips were covered only by short stubble. He then sharpened the blade on the strap again and reached for a shaving mug and brush. Whipping up a lather he spread it over her virgin pussy, taking extra time to stroke the soft brush up and down her slit. A barely audible moan escaped her lips. He then used the razor to expertly shave the last of the pubic hair from the darling girl. Wiping away the last of the lather with some shreds of her pantaloons, he stepped back to admire his work. Her beautiful young pussy was completely bare and smooth. Her sex was fully exposed to the stares of the men, without even her hair to provide modesty.

Jean-Pierre gestured to one of the crew, who then carried over a device like a wooden sawhorse used by the ship's carpenter. On this one, however, the long bar that connected the legs was covered in padded leather. They lifted the shaved girl and lowered her onto the device lengthwise, so that she was straddling the bar. Her feet just reached the ground, so that she was forced to stand on her toes in her high-heeled shoes. This raised her bottom so that it was high in the air and her back was arched like a cat. Her firm breasts hung down on either side of the bar. He grasped her wrists and tied each one to a wooden leg. Her tear-stained cheek rested on the leather-covered bar. The pirate then lifted the frame with the bound beauty and positioned it so that her raised behind was facing the gathered crew. Sounds of whimpering were heard as she protested weakly.

The Captain ran his hands over her perfect ass-cheeks, and he felt a shudder pass through her body. Gently he pulled the globes apart, opening her up to the stares of the lusting pirate crew. He pulled harder, and the lips of her hairless virgin sex parted to reveal the glistening furrow within. It was soaking wet, filled with the copious flow from her aroused pussy.

"Take a good look, men. Our little beauty may protest, but her pussy tells the truth!"

"No, please! I can't help it! I don't want you to touch me. Please don't, I beg you, please let me be!" She twisted her head, and was able to look back at the crew. When she saw the hungry stares of more than a score of ruthless men she groaned in shame and defeat. Her most private secret place was opened to their gazes, and they could see that she was dripping wet. The inner membranes glistened, and they could see the delicate little bump of her sweet clit, sheltered in its pink hood. The entrance to her vagina was spread open, the hole barely protected by the fragile petal of her virgin hymen. As the pathetic moan escaped her full, red lips, they saw a trickle of her cream escape the secret depths of her vagina and run down the exposed flesh to drip from her twitching clit.

Captain Renoir reached for the shimmering droplet as it hung from her open pussy and caught it on his finger. He then lightly touched the wet flesh and slid his finger up the furrow, spreading the slippery juice over her hairless lips. No man had ever touched her there, and she could not stop the low moan that issued from deep in her heaving chest. He slid around in the wetness, brushing over her tiny pee-hole and finally touching her screaming clit. Her whole body jerked as if shocked when he touched her clit, and she groaned again. His finger skated over the virgin pussy-hole, and then spread the wetness up to the tiny crinkled bud of her asshole. A sudden gasp from the lovely virgin testified to the shock and surprise she felt at having him touch her rear hole.

"Oh, no, sir! I beg you, you must not touch me there!" she cried.

Renoir ignored her pleas and gently ran his finger back and forth from her tiny anus to her twitching clit, spreading her sweet pussy flow along her slit and between her rounded ass-cheeks. Her pussy had become swollen and red, the lips parting wide and the inner petals blossoming open. A ribbon of feminine secretion ran from her tight hole, over her throbbing clit and collected in a viscous puddle on the leather of the bondage device. He dipped his finger in the puddle and carried the juice up to her tiny, tight anal pucker. He deposited it on the crinkled rosebud, and repeated the process several times, until her asshole was thickly coated with her pussy cream. He then rubbed his thick finger against the clenched opening, causing her to moan and cry out. He pressed forward, but her ass was too tight to admit his finger. He rubbed her slit some more, prodding and pummeling her tiny clitoris to arouse her and relax her ass. She was moaning continuously now, unable to hide her growing passion. Once more her pressed his finger against her asshole, and this time it slowly began to yield, the tip of his finger entering her darkest nether opening.

"No…please…not there…it is a sin…oooohhhhhh…aahhhhhhhh…please stop…mmmmmmmm…oohhh YES!…NO…NO…I MEAN NOOOO!!!"

Slowly his finger slid in, aided by the lubrication of her own juices. He waited for her anal muscles to relax, and then slid more of his finger up her tight ass. Finally her snug ass tunnel was squeezing several inches of his finger. He started to move it out, causing her to cry out, then slid it back in. As her tiny anus began to adjust to the intrusion, he sawed the finger in and out in a steady rhythm, finger-fucking the captive virgin beauty in the ass. She continued moaning, getting louder and no longer caring who could hear. Suddenly her hips began to move in little circles. She shoved back on the finger, using her toes for leverage.

"By the balls of Satan," exclaimed one pirate, "she likes it!"

"Look at the little harlot fuck back!"

"NO…NO…NO…it's not my fault! I can't help it! Please stop, please!" she cried. But all the while that she was protesting, she was rotating her hips and shoving her ass back to meet the invading finger. Renoir rubbed his finger along the slick, smooth lining of her rectum, electrifying her nervous system. With his other hand he reached for a hanging breast and pinched the long hard nipple between thumb and forefinger, pulling on the breast tip.

He withdrew his finger, and the bound captive girl wiggled her ass to urge him back. Little whimpering pleas escaped her full red lips. But he did not neglect her for long, as his fingers returned to stroke her hairless open pussy lips, rubbing the juice along her crack and probing the entrance to her virgin pussy. He pressed against the fragile membrane that guarded her virtue, but by now she was so aroused that she no longer feared the loss of her precious maidenhead. To distract her, he pinched her nipple harder and twisted her breast tip, and as the crew of brutal pirates watched intently, Captain Renoir quickly thrust his finger forward, deflowering the sweet princess in an instant. She let out a sudden gasp as the moment of pain got her attention, but it passed quickly as her uncontrollable lust washed over her. His thick finger was inside her virgin tunnel, and she loved the sensation. He twisted it around, loosening her up and stimulating the young woman. For a brief instant she realized that she was no longer a virgin, but she had ceased to care some time ago. She was so aroused by her helplessness, by her naked exposure to the stares of these evil men, that she only wanted to be used and degraded.

While he finger-fucked the bound virgin, he loosened his pants with the other hand. As the Captain moved to her head he nodded to another pirate, Jacques, who took over fingering the girl's heated slit. Renoir withdrew his large erect cock and held it in front of her face, and her eyes widened at the site. She had never seen a man's penis before, erect or not. Although she had imagined it, this was many times larger than anything she had dreamt of. She stared, mesmerized by the pulsating organ. Clear fluid was leaking from the hole, dripping off the end and collecting around the collar of his foreskin. Rather than be sickened by the sight, she was fascinated by it. She found herself wondering what it would taste like, how it would feel in her mouth.

"My God, what is wrong with me? Have I become a whore?" she thought. Realizing that she would never return to her life as a princess, that she was going to be used in every filthy way by these outlaws and would become the crew's woman, she thought that in a sense she was a whore now. And aren't whores woman who enjoy carnal pleasures, who yearn for a man's hard organ? This is what she had been taught by the nuns. The very hopelessness of her situation added to her arousal. The fact that she had no choice, that this was being forced on her somehow gave her the freedom to surrender to her lust. Unable to stop herself, she opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, reaching for the dripping organ. She heard laughs of derision from the crew.

"Look, the little slut wants his cock!"

"She wants to suck it, the whore!"

"Captain, give the wench what she wants! Stick it in her mouth!"

Renoir moved closer, so that his cock was inches from the straining tongue. He let her have just a quick lick and pulled away. The brief taste of musky man meat was like a drug to the innocent girl. The taste of his pre-cum assaulted her tongue and she thrust it out and wiggled it, begging for more. He continued to tease her, letting her taste it and then pulling away. Meanwhile her pussy was melting around the other man's finger, and she finally snapped, losing all control.

"Please, I beg of you, sir! Put it in my mouth. Let me suck it, let me taste your member!"

"You mean my cock? Then say it! Beg me to FUCK you in the mouth with my COCK!"

"Please, I cannot. I have never said such words! Just let me, please!"

"Sorry, my dear, not unless you ask the right way!"

A moment passed while she resisted, but it was useless. Finally she cried out,