The Pirate

WC 1497

The Pirate

Nigel Dubois was a Midshipman on HMS Vengeance. As they swung close to Tortuga he jumped ship. Little is written of his career as a pirate, except that he operated independently with a small but fiercely loyal crew of swashbucklers. He was destined to become one of the most successful of the Brethren of the Coast, and with his father-in-law became a wealthy land owner.

Due to the currents it was twelve hours before he made landfall. Raising exhausted from the sand, he made his way to Tortuga and took to shaking down drunken pirates. In this manner he acquired enough money for some appropriate attire and a decent sword. One day he decided to check out some of the plantations he had noticed walking into town. One in particular had a dock and a small sloop. He rode up to the Manor House and knocked on the door. A big, aristocratic looking man, opened it.

"What do you want?" he inquired in French.

Nigel answered fluently. "I'm looking for employment."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a mercenary, fallen on hard times....But an honest man who knows a hard day's work."

"A pirate by appearances, perhaps a renegade too. No doubt the Magistrate will soon arrive in search of you."

"I'm neither a pirate nor a renegade," he replied, "and there will be no inquiries.

"Who is it Father?" came a beautiful lilting voice from behind the door.

"A gentleman seeking employment."

"For the overseer job?"

"Perhaps, step inside, Monsieur...?"

"Dubois, Nigel Dubois, at your service."

Upon entering, he noted the source of the voice. It belonged to a young woman of around twenty. She was awkward and skinny, with features, embarrassingly plain...that is, until you heard her voice. It was a gift which brought redemption, catching the ear and dismissing the eye.

He bowed, "Mademoiselle."

"Monsieur," she replied.

"My daughter...Rochel.... Teronna!"

A willowy black woman appeared. "I will be taking Monsieur Dubois riding. He needs a bath and a change of clothes." Turning to Nigel he went on, "Don't be offended, my good man, no doubt you've ridden hard."

"A most generous offer, for which I'm grateful."

"Show him to the Overseer's Cabin, and get some water boiling."

Teronna, curtsied, "Apres moi," she gestured.

After bathing he found a clean set of clothes laid out. He dressed and went outside. The owner was waiting. "My name is Phillip Beauvais and this is my plantation...let's take a ride and we can become acquainted."

For the rest of the day they did a tour, and on the way home Phillip made an offer. "I'm in need of an Overseer and I can see that you have experience leading men. You also have knowledge of numbers and agriculture. These are attributes of value. I can pay ten Louis a month and if you catch on I'll consider a raise. Interested?

"Oui," Nigel answered, pleased with the proposal.

"Then join us at dinner...it'll be refreshing to have some intelligent conversation at the table."

That evening, Nigel sat with Phillip and Rochel. It was a simple fare but well prepared.

"Where are you from Monsieur Dubois?" asked Rochel, in that captivating voice .

"Marseilles," he answered. "My family kept a summer home in France."

"Your accent is British," commented Phillip. "Very slight but I catch an edge now and again."

"My father was English and my mother was French. We lived in London and abroad when it suited them."

"Fallen on bad times have you?"

"I'm alive, have my health, and am joined in good company for dinner. Making complaint would invite a bolt of lightning."

They laughed.

"Well it's getting towards dark and I still have ledgers to work on. Tomorrow I'll introduce you to the staff."

They arose and Teronna escorted him to the door.

In the cabin Nigel saw his clothes had been washed and the prospect of a clean soft bed was inviting. He undressed and put on the night shirt. Then he turned back the covers and was about to climb in when he heard a soft knock at the door.

Who could that be? he wondered. Going to the door he was surprised to see Rochel.

"Mademoiselle, what brings you to my threshold at this hour?"

She stood without speaking, head bowed, her face flushed red.

"Is there something I can do for you?"

She nodded her head without looking up.

"Do you wish to come inside?"

She nodded again.

He opened the door and she slipped past, walking over to the bed.

"Now what brings you here?"

She unbuttoned the straps and let her nightgown fall to the floor.

His heart jumped! Her breasts were small and almost entirely overtaken by two disproportionately large nipples. There was no curve to her thighs and her buttocks showed but the slightest bulge. There was little to commend her sex...except that it had been a long time since he had seen a naked woman.

"I don't know what to say to you Monsieur, except that I find you compelling and wish to learn of things about which I have no experience." Her words sounded contrived, like a school girl reciting a lesson.

"Then you came to the wrong person."

She sagged.

"What I mean is that I'm hardly qualified to instruct. My experience, while not all together lacking, is limited; however, if your mind's made up, 'tis a matter we might explore together."

She raised her head, eyes dancing and threw herself into his arms. They kissed. She pressed herself close. Eagerness lifted the fabric of his night shirt and she reached out tentatively and touched it.

"It wants to shake hands with me," she said in that disarming voice.

"More than that, I suspect."

She took his hands, pulling backwards towards the bed. When her calves touched, she sat down.

"Make yourself naked and let me see... as you do me."

He complied.

Then she reclined back spreading her legs. "Voulez-vous couchet avec moi?" she asked nervously in that same rehearsed manner. Her mound had a wisp of curly black hair. Her clitoris poked up with obscene starkness and she had the look of someone about to bolt from the room.

Nigel mounted, taking his manhood and probed for the opening. She peered down anxiously watching. Soon his erection found the sweet spot. He gave it a twist and started it inside. It was tight and he pushed harder than he should. With a surge it muscled deeper rending her hymen. She cried out and began to tremble.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Oui," she answered unconvincingly.

"Am I hurting you?"

"Un petit peu."

"Should I stop?"

"C'est a toi," she answered, tears running down her cheeks.

"You honor me, mon cher, we can try again later."

He started to withdraw and she clutched his shoulders. "Non! Non!"

His breath came hot upon her small breasts. They easily fit into his mouth and he drew one fully inside.

"Sacre bleu," she sighed. Then he began to knead her nipple while stroking underneath with his tongue. She began to relax around his shaft and he pushed it to length. He continued to suckle and she began breathing harder.

"Does it still hurt?" he asked.

"Un peu..."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Plus lentement!"

He withdrew slowly and felt her stiffen. "Try and relax," he whispered, pausing. She exhaled and again he pressed deeply. She gasped. "You are so sweet," he spoke seductively in her ear. Then he kissed her lips and gently began massaging her nipples. Rochel began to relax about his straining girth. He pulled back further this time and eased it back in. She began to squirm uncomfortably. He did it again this time with more insistence. She arose up. He drew back and she arched, pulling him by the shoulders. The beast reared and he began stroking in and out.

"Mon Dieu!" she cried out, "Mon Dieu!"

Losing control he picked up the tempo. She struggled with the intercourse trying to move with his body. Failing, she groaned in a mixture of anguish and longing. An orgasm writhed as her tender sheath surrendered to the onslaught of his desire. He assailed without remorse as she thrashed in a sea of torment and passion. Hot semen filled her womb as he held her shoulders to the mattress and gave full vent to his lust. When it was over he withdrew. His penis was red with blood and there was a bright stain on the coverlet.

How do I explain this to Teronna? he wondered

She arose stiffly, her face pale. He could hear her sniffles and see the stain of tears. She found her gown, put it on and turned and kissed him. "Merci," she whispered, slipping out the door.

Outside Phillip waited in the shadows. Rochel walked up to him. "C'est finit, Papa," Her tone was subdued but her voice held a note of pride.

"Bien," he answered.