Pantaloons and Doubloons

This piece was written for the "The Weekly Quickie Contest"  [18+] The prompt: Round 40 (September 6 through September 13) Write a story about being a wench on a pirate ship.

Pantaloons and Doubloons
by Charlie Maddox

The Venture hitched violently in the chaotic sea, but Elizabeth barely noticed. Her corset dug into her fleshy breasts, the weight of her stockings and petticoat made it difficult to breathe, so she took them off. “Ah, much better,” she sighed, her bare feet cooled by the dank boards of the hull floor.

The small locked room Captain James Teach held her in was stifling, with nary enough air for survival. It stank of piss and grog, and Elizabeth fought back a gag. When my betrothed discovers my whereabouts, he’ll bring an early end to ye marauding ways! she thought.

Heavy, unsteady footsteps slid their way down the wooden stairs outside the door, the slipping of a key into the lock, a jiggle of the door’s handle and Captain Teach loomed before her. His massiveness filled the room, and she cowered from him. He was drunk; his foul breath nauseated her. Chunks of food and debris were matted into his long hair and beard, and Elizabeth believed it had been weeks, perhaps months, since the man had seen a tub of water.

The Captain removed his hat, placing it delicately on the table as he approached her. “Mmm,” he moaned. “Ye look right bonny, lass. I have half a mind to partake of thee.”

Elizabeth backed up till she could back up no more, her calves hitting a wooden crate on the floor, she plopped quite unladylike onto its top. “Don’t ye touch me,” she whispered.

“Milady, me doubts ye be saying that directly.”

“What do ye want with me, sir?”

“Doubloons, Miss! Ye betrothed is a nobleman. His fortune matched only by his love for thee. ” Captain James Teach dropped to his knees before her, his body swaying with drunkenness. He snatched her fichu from her bodice and brusquely pulled her trembling hips toward him, his hands warm through her robes. “Ye smell of fresh-picked daisies and rainbows, Miss. I think I shall deflower thee.”

Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat as the Captain lifted the front of her gown, revealing alabaster thighs. His hands moved between her legs, caressing upward with a gentleness quite uncharacteristic of the ruthless pirate, his fingertips brushing the tuft of auburn hair surrounding her womanhood.

“God Himself was breathless when He created ye, Lass,” Teach said, easing her down till she lay on her back, her buttocks hanging off the edge of the crate but supported by Teach’s rough hands. “Ye wooer will taste of thee on ye wedding night, but I will taste thee first.”

“No,” Elizabeth moaned, her protestations barely audible in the cramped room. She closed her eyes, her knees drifting apart to expose her glistening slit.

“Ye body betrays thee, Miss,” the Captain said, a devilish glint in his black eyes.

Leaning in close, Captain James Teach brushed his lips across Elizabeth’s pubic hair, breathing deeply.  “Like honey-sweet manna from heaven, this alone could sustain me.”

Teach parted her engorged lips with the tip of his tongue, stopping to flick her swollen lovebud. Elizabeth moaned in spite of herself, thrusting her hips to meet his warm mouth. Her juices flowed down between her cheeks onto the aged planks below, and James wiped them up with his fingers, licking them clean.

She writhed in his hands--all the coaxing he needed to partake of her maidenly pleasures. He buried his bearded face in her cunt, and Elizabeth squealed in wild abandon. Putting her feet on James’ shoulders for better leverage, she rocked her hips and thrust herself against his face with every expert stroke.

A warm tingling began to build inside her, and her clit ached for release. Her pussy tightened around his tongue, and with one final thrust she came in his mouth. He held her firmly to his face, clenching her hips tightly while her essence dripped obscenely down his chin.

Captain Teach stood, wiping his face with one checked shirt sleeve and undoing his pantaloon breeches with the other.

Elizabeth propped herself on her elbows to look at him, bewildered. “What are ye doing?”

James smirked. “Ye aren’t a selfish lover, are ye, milady? ‘Tis my turn, now.”



Word Count: 692