The Makings of a High Seas Whore Ch. 02

Twenty one year Caitlin has run away to join her love but without help from her father she was penniless. So she had joined the SS Good Morrow disguised as a cabin boy. She planned to work her way to America on board but could not have planned for a cook with a taste for cabin boys.

Only days after Mr Phelps' rough induction to his brand of oral sex Caitlin's days had assumed a new and decidedly unpleasant routine. Rise at five to stoke the kitchen fires, wait in the store room on her knees for the cook to fuck her mouth until her spewed his seed deep into her throat.

Thankfully, with the practise she was getting, her technique was improving and Mr Phelps had stopped threatening to force himself inside her arse. Caitlin had tried to avoid him, attempted to stay close to the other men working below decks but to no avail. It seemed that trying to elude him only resulted in his attentions being even more ardent at the next opportunity.

The sea was so rough when Caitlin fell from her hammock at dawn that morning that she had difficulty keeping upright as she staggered to the galley. It was with great caution that she poked at the fire to reignite the embers. She added fuel and quickly closed the door; she knew that they would most likely be having cold cuts today. The weather was such that Phelps would not risk the chance of flying pans of boiling water.

With a deep sigh of resignation Caitlin dragged herself to the stores. Moving slowly towards the high shelves at the rear of the room Caitlin knelt down between two barrels of rum. Her stomach roiling at the smell; she would forever connect the thick smell of dark rum with her humiliation.

Only moments later she heard the deep rumble of Phelps' footsteps on the boards. She heard him press the door closed and then felt the boards tremble beneath her knees with each swaggered step he took. Her stomach rolled with fear and disgust, a part of her was ashamed that she would kneel in wait for Phelps to abuse her whilst another part was grateful that the man used only her mouth and not her body. Maybe there was some chance that she would find Michael with some of her virtue, if not her innocence, intact.

Phelps was already unbuckled when he rounded the corner. As he stood grinning widely at her, his cock already standing to attention. He stroked it like some kind of pet as he watched her kneeling on the floor, waiting for him. Phelps swayed with the motion of the ship, only when the ship levelled out once more did he close the distance.

The man waved his cock towards her lips and Caitlin resignedly shuffled forward on knees until it touched her on her lips. Looking up at him she stuck out her tongue and began to lap at it. Small short movements, from base to bulbous tip until the Phelps was panting. He braced himself, each hand gripping a shelf on either side of them to steady himself as the 'boy' worked on him. Only days into their 'arrangement' and he suckled like a prized whore. He had thought he would have to wait for the Indies before he got such a good mouth.

Caitlin began to suckle the bulbous head, she licked the drop of moisture that had formed. She was hopeful that this would not take long. Wrapping her tongue around him she began the rhythm that he had taught her. She blanked her mind to the taste and feel of him, the only good thing to have come from her attentions was that the mans cock was cleaner than ever before. She ignored the coarse promises the fell from his mouth. Caitlin could only think about the rhythm, the one that made him grunt and spew his seed as quickly as possible.

Phelps had a death grip on her neck. He was close to fulfilment. Then the ship lurched dramatically, pitching them both with it. Caitlin bumped her head on a barrel of rum. She felt Phelps try and shove his cock back into her mouth but she was at the wrong angle now. His cock shoved hard into her cheek. He cried out loudly making her look up at him. She barely saw the fist before it struck her.

Caitlin was thrown backwards, her hands rising to her jaw. Phelps was shouting and cursing her, his cock held in both hands. She held her breath as she watched a thin trickle of blood slip down one hairy thigh. Caitlin backed away form him shaking her head.

"I'm sorry sir," She cried in terror, "It was an accident. I didn't mean to..." Fat tears spilled down her cheeks.

"You stupid little bastard." Phelps roared.

He lunged forwards and grabbed her. Dragging her from the corner as though she weighed nothing at all. Caitlin cried and begged and pleaded but he merely continued dragging her from between the shelves.

There was a thump on door and someone called out from behind it.

"You alright in there?"

"Piss off will ya." Phelps roared. He flipped the key in the lock and gave Caitlin an evil smile. "I warned you what you would get if you used your teeth on me."

Caitlin tried to protest but a slap caught her on the cheek. Once he had unleashed his hand on her it seemed he couldn't stop. Caitlin curled into a tight ball as he laid blows onto her back and thighs, she screamed.

She was vaguely aware of someone thumping at the door but she could not move to open it. She barely registered that the blows had stopped until she felt Phelps using both hands to rip at her trousers. Caitlin screamed in earnest once more. She felt the cord around her waist snap. She struggled to crawl away from him but he held her fast to the floor.

Phelps gave a cry of triumph as he ripped the trousers down her legs. Using one hand to pin her down he used the other push his cock between the cheeks of her arse.

The door broke open and three crew men flew into the small storage room.

"Oh my God!" Somebody cried at the vision of the cook holding himself erect over the cabin boy.

Strong arms pulled him off of her and someone leant over her.

"That bastard should have been left ashore. You alright lad?" He asked.

"Um Jim, that ain't no lad."

Caitlin gave a moan of despair and passed out.

She woke much later in a real bed with real sheets on it. She tried to sit up but her head spun and she felt sick. She lay still with her eyes closed until she felt the nausea roll away again. She could see darkness out of the small window and wondered how long she had slept.

Caitlin noticed that the ship had returned to its usual pitch and roll, they must have run through the bad weather. Slowly Caitlin did a check of her body, it seemed there was hardly a part of her that did not ache. The worst was her back but her arms and legs felt bruised and battered. Her jaw ached like a bad tooth and she was sure it too sported a large colourful bruise. Taking a deep breath Caitlin raised herself up until she could prop herself onto the pillows.

"So you're awake."

Caitlin jumped at the voice she looked up to see a man sat at a desk by one of the windows. He wore breeches and an undershirt but his hair was tied neatly to his neck. He was older than her father with a thin slash of a mouth and grey hair.

"I am Captain Jones and you are a stowaway." He said dropping his quill back into the ink pot and looked at her with disgust.

"I never... I was, am prepared to work. I couldn't afford a ticket." Caitlin stumbled on her words, the job was made harder by the pain in her jaw.

"Hmm, no doubt. But you lied didn't you? Pretended to be a lad and caught the attentions of our cook."

The hard tone made Caitlin flinch. The captain raised his hand to ward off any objections she may voice.

"He will be replaced as soon as we can reach land. We don't condone his sort." The captain rose from behind the desk and walked towards the bed.

Caitlin thought for a moment that he would climb in with her but he merely stood beside her, watching her with an expression not dissimilar to Phelps.

"You've been injured and need rest. I will be back tomorrow to check on you. We can discuss your plan to work your passage to America then." He smiled darkly at her and then turned and walked to the door. As it closed behind him she heard the snick of the lock fastening.

Caitlin slept all night and much of the next day. She was roused briefly by the ships doctor. He examined her briefly but thoroughly, removing her shirt and cutting through the bandages she had used to tape down her breasts.

Caitlin blushed furiously as she held her arms up to cover herself. The man raised a brow at her modesty but pronounced her fit. She was lucky to have survived Phelps at all, he told her, the last boy didn't. She was even luckier to have survived with no broken bones. Caitlin struggled back into the dirty shirt and hid beneath the covers as soon as the doctor left.

An hour later two men walked through carrying a tin bath. The water sloshed over the floor and she could smell perfume rising from it. They leered at her briefly but left quickly, locking the door behind them. On the chair next to the bath sat a towel and a fresh shirt that appeared long enough to double as a night dress on Caitlin's tiny frame.

She washed quickly but thoroughly, under any other circumstances she would have revelled in the perfumed water. She had nearly four weeks of dirt caked to her body. The hot water helped to ease some of bruises as well. She was dressed in the fresh shirt and hidden beneath the bedclothes once more by the time the two men came back to retrieve the tub.

It was near dark when the door opened against. It was the captain; he carried a plate with a domed silver lid over it. He set it down on the desk and motioned for her to join him. Caitlin hesitated until her stomach growled loudly. She hadn't eaten in two days and she was starving. She slid from the bed and walked to the desk hesitantly, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Captain Jones watched every move she made until she sat opposite him at the sturdy desk. As she sat he removed the lid from the plate and she smelled the mash potatoes and gravy, her mouth watering at the sight of a small lamb chop. Without waiting for permission she snatched up the silverware and began to eat.

It wasn't until she had cleared the plate that she realised that the captain had moved to sit on the bed. When she looked up he was removing his hose and shoes. She blinked at him, her stomach lurching in dread.

"Don't look so surprised, my dear. Did you think you could travel for free?" he gave a dry laugh. "My good doctor claims that you have been bruised but not abused. I am interested to see how you escaped Mr Phelps' attentions. How old are you my dear?"

Caitlin paled. "Twenty one." She replied nervously.

Very carefully she set down the knife and fork, the urge to wipe her finger across the plate to taste the last smears of gravy had dissolved.

"Come on girl." Snapped the man impatiently. "The men tell me you were often alone in the store with Mr Phelps yet you bear none of the marks of his attentions and apparently your maiden head is still in tact. So how did you keep our cook entertained?" That last word was said with such disdain that Caitlin blushed deeply.

"Oh come now. Don't play the innocent with me. A proper young lady does not stowaway on board ship. A lady would have a chaperone and a ticket."

"Please sir. I am travelling to the man I love, we are to be married." Caitlin cried.

"Then where is the ticket that he sent you?"

"My father sent him away, refused his offer for me. Michael wrote to me when he reached America; he will have my letter telling him of my plans by now." Caitlin sobbed.

"Well there are ways for you to work for your ticket and keep you ... virtue." The captain smiled coldly. "Now stop wasting my time."

Caitlin rose from the desk, her shoulders slumped in defeat. Wordlessly she moved to kneel before the old captain. He looked down at her with a cold smug smile. He leant forward and pulled the shirt over her head and then leaned back to unfasten his breeches.

The cock that sprang free was longer than that of Mr Phelps and thinner. Caitlin looked up at the captain, waiting. When he nodded hurriedly at her she shuffled forward on her knees and pressed her tongue to his erection. Her first thought was that at least his cock was clean.

As she tongued her way along his length she heard the captain gasp with delight at her ministrations. She took him deep in her mouth, relieved to notice that she could still breathe even with him in her throat.

The captain gasped loudly and clutched at the sheets beneath his hands. Caitlin felt a small thrill of power run through her. She closed her lips over his cock and began to work at the bobbing rhythm that would cause the mans climax. She listened to his ragged breathing and knew he would not last much longer. He startled her by pushing at her shoulders, holding her away from him.

"Do not think to distract me from your body my dear, though I see now how you kept Phelps from it. You, my girl, are a born whore aren't you?" He looked down the length of her body with glee. A knock at the door made Caitlin jump and the captain curse.

"Sir, pirates." Came the cry.

"I will be there shortly Mr Marks." The captain called. He listened the footsteps trailing away. "Looks like you will have to distract me after all. Make it quick; you don't want to be in the hands of pirates do you?"

Caitlin didn't answer, she couldn't decide between them right now. As she took his cock back into her mouth she felt his hands reach down and grip her bare breasts. She worked up her rhythm once more, pushing his cock into her throat with long slow moves. The captain pinched and tugged on her tight nipples, matching his rhythm to hers.

Caitlin flushed deeply at the touch on her body, but despite her dislike of him she felt something flutter through her at the touch. She was breathing hard when his cocked twitched deeply inside her throat, her nose pressed to his belly. She thought it could be her own exertions but was not fully convinced.

With only a moment to enjoy his release the captain quickly pushed her aside and dressed.

"Stay here, my dear, I shall be back before long."