Shipwreced

Six weeks later, her wounds healed, Sophie left England. The schooner, its sails half furled against the storm, lurched and sank sickeningly as it shuddered from the huge force of yet another heavy wave striking its bow. Salt water laden wind keened through the taught ropes, straining against the gale, sending an eerie scream into the dark night while fighting to hold the mast firm and upright.

The storm failed to penetrate the warm cabin where Sophie had finally managed to convince the Captain to take more of an interest in her charms. Wherever she went now, she felt she needed protection, and her broken nose attested to her fears.

Cornwallis had not only raped her, he had taken away some of her beauty with the blow that had broken her nose. Now, if she could still use her body to get that protection, from whoever was in charge, she would.

Her bosom swelled voluptuously from within the confines of her tight corset, framed by the satin frill of her low cut blouse. She imagined she would have fitted in well in any tavern, as she had thus teased and flirted with her target relentlessly, brushing herself accidentally against him whenever she could.

Sophie fell softly against her new conquest, who was now, she delightedly found, also very firm and upright with desire. Sophie was barely aware of the natural fury of the storm slowly building outside the cabin, as she ran her hand over the hard length of his erection hidden beneath the rough sailors cloth. It was another kind of fury she was planning to build.

For his part, Captain Kirk had had grave doubts about this strange and seductive woman. He had heard the gossip but reserved judgement upon her. Her attentions aroused in him a wanton desire it was true, she was as brazen as a whore, yet as sophisticated as a high-society lady. It was a deadly combination. He was, after all, only a working sailor, aging fast in his short lived and hard life. He took his pleasures where he found them, and now he found them here, and this promised to be a real pleasure.

He turned to her. Shocked, but excited at such debauched suggestions.

“A show you say?”

“The best you will ever see…” Sophie purred into his ear, stroking him as she did so. “Just select two of your men, and then let them take her, she will scream and fight but she is a very good actress…she loves it…and you will too…”

He considered her suggestion again. He knew just the men to choose, men who had been previously convicted of rape and sentenced to work his ship. He decided with a curt nod to Sophie and went outside.

He returned with two smirking, hard looking, rough-hewn men. They stood to one side, lecherously looking over Sophie as she walked out of the cabin to return with a confused Abigail. She left Abigail standing in the centre of the room and returned to the Captain.

“Come and sit by my side Captain,” she said to him softly, patting the covers of her bed. He did so with a smile, watching Abigail’s worried face all the while.

“Mistress…?” Abigail said in a confused whisper.

She deserved this Sophie thought to herself vindictively. She knew Abigail had watched her humiliation at the hands of that bastard Cornwallis, and she had done nothing, pretending nothing had happened. Now Abigail will understand her pain and humiliation at first hand.

Sophie ignored her pleading questions and turned to the Captain who then nodded towards the men. They immediately moved and took hold of Abigail, their hands exploring her body immediately, eagerly.

“What are you doing? Get away from me! Stop it! Mistress! “Abigail cried as she twisted and turned, desperate to get away from them. She screamed for help, but saw no help, only a cold stare and evil smile from her mistress. She had been lured into a trap, she knew.

As the men pawed at her breasts crudely, a deep and dark heat enveloped her as she realised her intended fate. For so long she had watched and never once participated. Never once had the dangerous lust of men descended upon her as they had descended upon the lustful Sophie. But not like this, not like this. She struggled as much against her bodies desire as against her conscience.

Sophie meanwhile, snuggled up against her Captain, her pleasure at Abigail’s distress warmed her heart as her hand searched for and released his ever-growing erection from within his course rough pants, stroking his hard member languidly as they both watched the rape of Abigail.

Sophie leaned close. “I think you, as Captain, well, I think you should be the first to take her…” she whispered into his ear, watching him lick his lips at her suggestion, his eyes glued to the men hungrily stripping the struggling girl.

“She sure puts on a good act…” he mumbled.

“I told you she was good…” Sophie murmured into his ear as her hand all the while slowly moved erotically over his exposed erection.

The men had removed most of Abigail’s clothes now, their rough hands pawed at her naked breasts and firm buttocks as she continued to fight them futilely. As one held her, the other released himself, his erection springing free from his loose sailors pants, as he moved towards her.

Abigail screamed again, her eyes fixed on the glistening head of the man’s eager cock approaching her, her wails fighting the keening howl of the storm outside the cabin.

“NO!” the Captain suddenly shouted, and the men stopped immediately and turned around. “No, I will take her first, then you two can do what you like!”

The men scowled at him, but stood aside, holding Abigail up against the hard wood panelling, one on each side, holding her open for him, whilst stroking their own hard cocks.

He moved quickly forward and stood between her legs, then buried himself in one harsh thrust deeply into her. Abigail wailed at his sudden rough intrusion into her body, but could do nothing to stop him as his cock burst into her, again and again, stretching her vagina wide with his thick fat girth.

She clenched her eyes shut at the shock and pain. When she opened her eyes again, she saw her mistress wrapping herself around the man raping her, her eyes gleamed with triumph as she looked into Abigail’s face, as she helped him to fuck her, her fingers guiding him as he thrust into her, as she also pushed her fingers into Abigail’s wet cunt, finger fucking her alongside his thrusting cock.

It was revenge Abigail realised, seeing the hate upon her face. One of the men holding her went behind Sophie and thrust his own engorged cock into her wetness, Sophie’s eyes widening with pleasure at his sudden intrusion. The second man moved behind Abigail and she now felt his cock push between her legs, push at her ass hole, seeking entrance.

It slowly forced its way in, opening her ass to its width, and then suddenly with a shock of pain, he pushed past her sphincter, burying himself inside her. Now Abigail could feel the hard width of two thick cocks moving inside of her, and Sophie’s fingers all the while dancing between them, guiding their cocks fucking her.

Then the room tilted, tilted further, throwing the man from her body as they all began falling towards the opposite wall. The ship was rolling! Cold water burst into the room and an inky black cold obliterated everything.

The tent walls flapped and rustled a little harder under the building wind. Around the cluster of tents, camels, their legs shackled, lay hunched together against the biting stinging of the wind borne sand.

Inside one of the largest tents and comfortably protected from the harshness of the exterior, a single Arabic oil lamp glowed. The small flame was buffeted slightly by gently intruding draughts, and the light flickered, casting wavering light through the serrated patterns of the brass holder in intricate moving patterns upon the inside surface of the tent.

The patterns also swept over the naked bodies reclining upon the luxurious cushions that formed the floor of the tent. They seemed to accentuate the sweep of the rolling shapes that lay tightly together, shaped to each other. Two ebony black young Nubian women lay curled into the body shape of a fair skinned man that lay between them.

They could have been asleep, but they were not. They were moving almost imperceptibly, against each other. A fair skinned hand stroked the glossy black body of the woman to his front, joined in its exploration of her body by another, far darker hand, from the woman behind him. Her long slender fingers caught and stroked his, entwining her fingers with his, before moving on to smoothly run over the other woman’s skin. It then trailed over them both, reaching teasingly down along both thighs and legs, returning sensuously, slowly, back up to the neck and face.

The woman in front moaned softly, pushing her hips back at him as he slowly moved deeply within her. He took each firm breast within his hand, stroking each with the palm of his hand, rotating and dragging the hard skin of his hand over the softly erect nipples and warm flesh. The softer fingers of the woman behind him took the woman’s breast also in her hand, and so they alternating with each other, her softness contrasting deliciously with his calloused skin. She moaned deeply at their attentions, and then clasped her hands over theirs upon her breasts as she suddenly came in a keening orgasm. He stopped moving inside her, letting her move her body as she wished upon him, taking what she wanted of him, as she continued her climax.

Eventually, he felt her relax, the warm and tight vaginal spasms upon his buried cock lessened, eased. The woman behind him, sensing her pleasure had passed the peak, slipped her hand down between them, finding the base of his still buried cock, pulling him slowly out of his lover, her lover, her friend.

She pulled him onto his back, his hardness springing clear and lying thickly erect upon his stomach. The air, though warm, still felt cold upon his wet penis as it lay throbbing with his unfinished desire. The Nubian woman behind him straddled him then, taking hold of his cock firmly in one hand, guiding the tip of him to her denied heat. She expertly held him, just touching her wetness, making him squirm under her touch, as she drew his swollen glands along her sex, denying him for a moment her inner depths.

She watched his face in the half-light as she tantalised him, and felt him thrust up eagerly, but she only allowed him to gain entry to her slightly, the flared purple head of his penis pushing inside her soft folds only to the thickness of its ridge. She rose up on her long slender legs, beyond his reach, as he groaned at being denied her enveloping heat again.

Hearing him groan, she then took him forcefully, quickly letting her weight fall upon him, enveloping him fully, heard him shout out at the sudden deep and fierce capture of his penis.

She rode him with abandon then, her pent up and long denied passion given full reign as she ravished him with her body. She felt herself climax, and climax again, and yet again as she rode him to his climax. It was not long before he shouted out his orgasm and he emptied himself deeply into her, as she milked him of his essence fully.

Only then, passion spent, did they hear for the first time the terrible tearing sounds of breaking timber above the crashing surf and keening gale.

The wetness caressed her body, moving from her lips down over her breasts and along her legs, before returning to repeat the same gentle caress once again.

It was a nice dream. It was a shame to wake up. Sophie opened one eye and saw a foot on its side standing in sand. No, it was not on its side, it was she who was on her side, lying in the sand, the surf washing up against her, the foot belonged to someone standing by her head, and then all at once the confused memories of the shipwreck came flooding back before she slipped back into unconsciousness. It was no dream.

Abigail lay on her back in the surf staring at the blue sky and the harsh sun glaring down upon her. She was alive she dimly realised. A shadow fell across her and she felt herself lifted up and carried away. She was too confused and exhausted to make any sense of anything.

When next she awoke it was dark. An oil lamp flickered in the corner. She could make no sense of her surroundings. A face swam into view, a strangely familiar face. She sat up with shock and threw her arms around Thomas, her lost love who had been banished by her mistress so long ago. How could this be? She didn’t care, he was here, he was here now, and that was all that mattered.

After a long time, she talked and talked, pouring out her grief and unhappiness under her mistress. She told him everything and he listened, never once interrupting her. And then she slept. When she awoke, it was his turn to talk. And she listened in awe to his tale. How he had fallen in with thieves and bandits, how he had survived and thrived to where he was now the leader of this faction of outlaws, living in this harsh environment between the sea and the desert. This was now his life, the Thomas she knew from London was long gone. But a part of the old ‘him’ still remained she saw. A part of him still belonged to her, she was sure of it.

The herbal medicine she had been given sent her back to her dreams and he stood up as at last as she slept once again, recovering her strength. His two Nubian women had attended her every need, but had recognised the bond between Thomas and this new white woman that lay sick on the bed. They looked at each other nervously, but Thomas reassured them, this new woman would join them as another of his wives, but they would remain also. They accepted this as natural.

Abigail recovered quickly, and in three days was almost back to her normal self.

“What happened to the crew of the ship, and to Sophie?” she asked Thomas at last.

“Come with me” was all he said. They walked out into the heat of the afternoon.

Thomas showed her his kingdom. He took her along the beach, leaving the dessert behind the tall cliffs that reached towards the sky above and behind them. They came to a narrow cliff fissure that opened out to the sea from the darkness within. They then entered this gloom; past serious faced and heavily armed guards that protected its entrance, back into its deep seclusion, hidden from any prying eyes.

This then was his kingdom, in caves and tents around this remote place, he, his men and their women, lived.

Abigail cried out a strangled scream and turned, tried to run, but was held by Thomas. Once her eyes had adjusted to the dark, she instinctively had tried to run from what she had seen - the dead eyes of heads speared upon stakes driven into the sand at the entrance. And she had recognised them. Recognised the now very dead Captain and the two men who had begun to rape her aboard the ship.

“Here, it is my justice, my law.” Thomas told her frightened face.

“And Mistress Sophie?” Abigail asked in a whisper.

“She is being well looked after…at least for the moment” he added darkly.

And she was. Inside a luxurious tent, four dark skinned Nubian women were attending to her every wish. They were bathing her in a large fresh water tub, washing every part of her body though rally and intimately, all the while being offered and fed sweet cakes and fresh grapes and dark wine

Unable to communicate with the women, Sophie had allowed them to cleanse her and relaxed into the luxurious attention she was being afforded. She had recovered quickly from the trauma of the shipwreck, being basically unharmed. Now she felt more herself, her confidence returning. The women smiled at her and reassured her. Unlike Sophie however, they knew her fate.

Sophie was stunned to see the Abigail walking towards her with a tall, bronzed and powerful man at her side. Her astonishment was complete when she recognised that this man was non other than Thomas, her former servant and the lover of Abigail that she had banished from her household all those years before.

The sight was so extraordinary; she felt her jaw drop and for once was completely lost for words. The sight made Thomas smile inside, but his features remained stern.

“Mistress Sophie” Thomas said softly “It is, if not exactly a pleasure to see you again, it is at least going to be satisfying”

What he said and the way he said it sent a shiver through Sophie. She gathered herself as best she could.

“Who is in charge here?” she told him imperiously, returning to her natural tone when dealing with a servant.

“I am, Madam” Thomas said tonelessly.

And the way he said it, with deep and quite assurance, made Sophie shrink a little. She said nothing more as they each regarded the other.

Then Thomas said something in Arabic to the women, before returning his gaze to Sophie. “I have instructed them to provide you with anything you need, anything apart from your freedom, here you are my servant!”

With that, he took Abigail by the arm and led her out of the tent and away from Sophie, who could only stare and wonder what fate had in store for her here in this strange place.

After washing her, the women led Sophie to a softly quilted area, and laid her down naked. The water on her body was cooling, a relief from the heat outside. The women sat around her, gently drying her with soft towels as a large and completely hairless Nubian man came towards her holding something that glinted in his hand. It was a blade.

Sophie felt a rush of fear and started to get up, but the women held her tightly down. The Nubian came towards her a slight smile upon his features. He had a job to do, and he was going to enjoy his work.

The women spread her legs, opening her to him. He knelt between them, then reached towards her sex and moved his hand over her mound. Sophie felt the wetness immediately as the foaming lotion lathered up under his hand. Sophie realised with relief that he was only going to shave her.

It tingled and excited her, taking away her fright in an instant as he massaged the cream around her now swelling and sensitive lips. She laid back and allowed the new sensations to sweep over her. He seemed to ignore her most sensitive areas, treating her all over with the same intensity. His large hands rough yet very delicate. It made her tremble; she wanted him to touch her now.

The women smiled at her, recognising the distant look that had crept into her eyes under the Nubian man’s attentions. She arched her back, eager now to be touched, to be pleasured, but he continued to work and soften her hair, tantalising her as he did so.

Then he stopped, dried his hands and picked up the blade and showed it to her. Then began to shave her. The cold blade sliced across her skin, removing her hair bit by bit. She trembled under the blade as it sliced across and over her burning sex, her lips swollen and sensitised by his massage. It was a kind of torture that gave no relief, yet Sophie craved its diabolical continuance.

He worked her expertly, moving the silken folds of her sex apart with his thick blunt fingers with an unbelievable delicacy, her wetness aiding his blade as he shore her expertly smooth. She could feel the small erection of her clit painful in its hardness, untouched and desperate for attention. He very carefully avoided it.

He moved all over her, shaving every part with care and precision, every part of her body was removed of any vestige of hair. It took time and great care to avoid even a single scratch to her skin. Sophie could not have cared less. She simply wanted release from this erotic pain. That would not be provided however. Her hands were bound above her head when the Nubian had finished, leaving her to pant her frustration, denied the opportunity even to bring herself to orgasm, her climax so close, that even the merest touch, would have sent her over the top into ecstasy.