tagNovels and NovellasThe Ravishing of Constance Ch. 15

The Ravishing of Constance Ch. 15

bySabledrake©

The meeting at the rendezvous point went according to Jacqueline's plan. Constance remained aboard the Falcon, with a skeleton crew, as the longboats carrying the captain, her first mate, and an armed contingent of pirates escorted Lady Beatrice ashore. Marie, too, stayed behind.

They used the spyglass to witness the exchange. Beatrice, her bruises bearing testament to her cruel handling, was nonetheless pretty in her gown of cobalt blue. She gave no outward sign of being the same woman who'd eventually yielded to the persuasion of Constance's fingers whilst in the bath. That climax, and the ones which had followed when the two of them forsook the tub in favor of the heap of blankets that comprised Constance's bed, might have happened to someone else entirely.

She left her captivity as a woman who had been sorely used but was recovering, not as one who had allowed Constance to bring her to release again and again, with hands and mouth and ultimately with the careful insertion of a well-greased candle. Her head was held high as pride demanded, and she did not look back.

Marie was overjoyed with the way all had gone. So, too, were the pirates when they returned laden with gold. Jacqueline instructed the helmsman to set sail for Port Royal, where the crew could shed their money in a wild spree of rum and whores.

Later, when they had reached the harbor and most of the men were ashore in the teeming lively town, Jacqueline sent for Constance. She eyed her pensively when Constance entered her quarters.

"I understand you have been making free with Jean-Pierre again," Jacqueline said, tapping her foot. "And that you were most attentive to our erstwhile guest, Lady Beatrice. You've quite the appetite, haven't you, Constance deGranville?"

"I meant nothing by it –"

"I am not angry with you. Sit down."

Constance did, smoothing her skirt around her legs.

"You only prove what I've long believed," Jacqueline said. "It's widely known that lust can turn any man into an animal. Codes and vows, friendship and taboos, none can stand in the face of the lure of sex, given the proper provocation. We saw that with Jean-Pierre, did we not? His best intentions notwithstanding, when presented with a chance at a hot cunny, he became a beast."

"Yes," Constance said, thinking of how Rob and Enrique's lifelong friendship had shattered under the strain of their rivaled passion for her. Too, the fact that she was his sister had most certainly not stopped Rob from sinking his cock into her.

"But women, ah, Constance, are women any different? Take yourself, for example. Mere weeks ago, you were a demure and proper young lady who'd never so much as seen a man naked, whose primary ambition was to remain pure for your husband. True or false?"

"True."

"Yet now, look at you. Wild for a good fuck, absolutely frantic for it, to the point that you'd seduce a would-be priest, and engage in all manner of activities of which you might never otherwise have even dreamt. You've taken a great black Moorish prick up your arse, you've diddled a woman with a candle, you've learned to lick cunny to the point that Marie gives you high praise indeed."

Constance could only nod, and flush warmly. It was true, all of it, and the girl who'd once stood on a Veradoga villa balcony looking out at the sea was a vision impossibly far distant, a stranger to her.

"What wouldn't you do, Constance? Where would you call a limit, and say 'no more!' What perversity would be too much for one such as you?"

Warily, she studied Jacqueline. The blonde pirate woman lounged sideways in her great leather chair, swinging her long legs over one armrest, apparently enjoying Constance's sudden discomfiture.

"I do not know what you mean," she said.

"Oh, but you do."

"I shouldn't want to do anything … painful," Constance said.

Jacqueline's golden brows arched. "No spankings, then? No birch rod applied to your rosy cheeks, no pinching of the nipples?"

"No."

"What of dogs, horses?"

"No!"

"But men aplenty, and women too."

"Well, certain of them."

"Aha!" Jacqueline laughed. "So you're choosy, are you? Not just any cock will do. If I brought in some hideous hunchbacked dwarf, you'd turn him away?"

"Yes, I –"

"Even were he hung like a stallion?"

"That does not matter."

"Suppose that your brother were here. Rob, wasn't it? Robert deGranville. Would you fuck him again?"

Constance roused with a heated anger. "I would sooner see Rob made to suffer. Whatever I am now, 'tis what he made me. He stole my innocence, used me as his whore, and when he caught me with Enrique, he beat me and raped me. I should like to see the same happen to him."

"Would you truly?"

"I would! Let Rob be strapped over a bench and have his bottom striped with lashes, and then let someone stab an enormous cock up his arse and fuck him until he bleeds!"

The vehemence of it astonished her. That she could think and feel such things, that she could say them! When in some peculiar way she felt almost grateful to Rob for setting her on this path. If not for him, she would still be ignorant of the marvelous pleasures her body could give her. How could she be so diametrically conflicted?

"Do you mean to say that if your brother were here, that is the fate you'd wish upon him?" Jacqueline asked.

"Oh, I do not know what I mean." Constance raked distracted fingers through her hair.

Somehow, the idea of Rob being bent over while a large man – the Moor, Salvador, sprang to mind – pounded into him and made him weep and beg effected a stirring of slippery warmth in her belly. She would like to see that, yes, she would like that very much.

"You have been very well-sexed on this little voyage thus far, haven't you?" Jacqueline said. "Jean-Pierre and Michel, Marie and the Moor, even Beatrice. Who else among my crew would you like to have?"

"I … what? You're asking me?"

"There's not a man among them who'd turn down such an opportunity," she said. "I could give each of them a turn at you, but I must confess that many of them are selfish. Surely you've heard as much from Marie."

"She did say something of that nature."

"I wouldn't want you to be left unfulfilled," Jacqueline said. "Not that I think it's much of a danger, in truth. Michel says you come at the drop of a hat. But I would like your next few encounters to be as pleasant for you as possible."

"Why?" she asked, with a creeping sense of unease. "What is it that you mean for me? I know that the days are passing until the appointed meeting at Falcon Bay, and that you do still mean to ransom me. Yes?"

"I suppose," Jacqueline said indifferently.

"Then I am still your captive."

"Quite so."

"In which case, why should it matter to you whom I wish to fuck with or not? You are my captor. You could hand me over to the men and let them take turns at me, or take me four at a time, as they did with Beatrice. As they do with Marie. You could bring a dog or a horse or a hunchbacked dwarf aboard and I would have no choice but to do as you said. You could order me to your own bed, for that matter."

A slight grin turned Jacqueline more beautiful than ever. "Would you like that, Constance? Would you like to share my big bed, and do whatever I wished for you to do?"

"I would," she said, returning Jacqueline's gaze frankly. "I've wondered why you do not make more use of your bed, in fact."

Her grin became a roguish laugh. "Oh, have you! Wondered why I do not fill it night after night with a succession of my crewmen? Wondered why I will watch Michel apply that magnificent cock of his, but never allow it into my own cunny? Or why I never did as you did to Jean-Pierre?"

"Yes, I do wonder. Although, with Jean-Pierre and Michel, I gather I understand … their being your brothers and all."

"As if that would make a whit of difference to you."

"Rob was not my choice!"

Jacqueline waved off her protest. "But, you are right. I would have no objection to fucking either Michel or Jean-Pierre, or both, until they pleaded for mercy. After all, it would not be the first time I'd had a Merlion cock in me. Philippe Merlion, the first Black Falcon, came to my bed one night when he'd had too much to drink and was grieving for his dead wife."

"Oh, no," Constance said.

"I woke to him lifting my legs over his shoulders," Jacqueline said. "I did not know what he was doing, what he intended. I saw his erection – rum affects some men poorly, increasing the desire but sapping the capability, but I must say that the Merlion men have never been so afflicted – just before he ploughed me with it. He was not so generous as your brother, either. He did not make any effort to ready me beforehand, only caring for his own need. It hurt terribly. I bled for days. All his remorse and apologies could not take back what he'd done to me. Not even when he bequeathed me his entire pirate's empire, ships and villas and treasures and all, could it undo that one unforgivable night."

"I am so awfully sorry," Constance said.

"I had never believed such betrayal of trust was possible." Jacqueline's blue eyes had gone as stormy as the spate of bad weather they'd ridden out, and her face was tight with the memory of pain and shame. "I loved him, I idolized him, I very nearly worshipped the ground he walked upon and the sea he sailed upon. Yet when he had a stiff cock, his only thought was that I had a place to fit it. What he told me after made no difference. I still felt betrayed, for in my heart he had always been my …"

She trailed off, and sighed. Constance was stunned, for she had never before heard Jacqueline speak with such intensity. The scornful amusement, the distanced disdain, that was her usual manner had been stripped away.

"But he is dead," Jacqueline said briskly, as if shaking off the past the way she might shake rainwater from her hair. "And to answer your initial question as to why I sleep alone –"

"I think it is answered," Constance said. "You were hurt, and you do not wish to be hurt again. Jacqueline, if you would allow me –"

Jacqueline burst out laughing, slapping her trim thigh. "You'd think to make it better for me, is that it? Damnation, Constance deGranville, it was not my purpose to leave you believing I'd had no man since! I've had lovers aplenty."

"Have you? Then why …?"

"I am a female pirate captain," Jacqueline said as if this should have been self-evident. "Any pirate captain must win and keep the respect of the crew, if there's to be discipline and obedience. For a woman, it's all the more challenging. If I dally with any of them, it will foster grudges among the rest, and if I dally with all of them, I'm no captain at all. I must let my romances stand apart from my captaincy."

"You believe that if the crew saw you as a woman, rather than a captain, they would cease to follow you?" Constance asked.

"The very reason." She smiled, with a glittering edge of teeth. "And so I have learned to stow my desires away until such time and place as they are more befitting."

"I do understand, now," Constance said. "Though I do think it sad to deny yourself."

"Yes, well, sacrifices must be made. I derive pleasure enough from other ends. Battle, plunder, ransom, and revenge."

"Why do you hate me so?" The question was no sooner articulated than it was out, hanging in the air between them. Because even now, with what had just been disclosed and an atmosphere that should have engendered a closeness, she could still feel it. Could still see it in Jacqueline's eyes.

"Hate you? Do I?"

"Do not toy with me. I know that you do."

"If you would have me admit it, then, very well. I do hate you, and why? Perhaps it is because you've lived the life I always yearned for. A life of wealth and privilege and high society."

"But you are wealthy," Constance protested, more distressed than she would have thought possible at hearing this vital, exciting woman say it right out like that. "If what I've heard is true, you're wealthier by far than my father."

"That may be, but will it win me acceptance? Try being raised a pirate whelp, Constance, and see how favored you would be at court. Grow up learning to use a cutlass instead of a fan, and see how many governors' balls you're invited to. All my treasure still wouldn't buy me out of the hangman's noose if the British, or the Spaniards, or any of a number of other enemies, caught up with me."

"I see," Constance said after some thought on this. "And so, because I was born to these things, you bear me ill will for it? Forgive me, but that is unfair. I did not ask to be born a deGranville, any more than you asked to be born a Merlion."

Jacqueline's eyes narrowed, and something deadly sprang up in her expression. Constance knew that she'd somehow said exactly the wrong thing, yet had no idea what it might have been.

"No, neither of us asked to be born who we are," Jacqueline said. Her voice was ice and steel, cold, sharp. "Nary a man nor woman on this earth has that power. But we make the most of what we are given, do we not? You made the most of the deGranville name, the money and the prestige. Or am I mistaken, and you spurned fine clothes, rich foods, expensive wine, jewelry? You gave these things to the less fortunate, non?"

"Well, I …"

"I thought not. While I may not have those things myself, I do have others. I have a certain power, you see. The power of metal and gunpowder, of stout ships and stout-hearted men, to allow me to seize what I can, and do with it what I wish. I have seized you, Constance."

"And you mean to punish me for having that which you could never attain?"

"You've put your very finger on it." Jacqueline smiled.

Constance did not feel that it would be wise to mention that she hardly considered her time aboard the Falcon thus far to be one of punishment. She went to sleep that night sure that she understood. It was envy that inspired Jacqueline's hatred of her, a not unreasonable envy. Had the pirate queen been raised among the nobility, Constance did not doubt that her beauty and grace would have won her many a wealthy suitor, and a life of ease rather than the hardship of the sea.

The crew returned the following afternoon, with aching heads and sour stomachs from their revelry, their shares of gold fed off into the coffers of the city's brothels, taverns, and gambling houses. A few sported new tattoos, or fine colorful garb, and some had brought back lavish gifts for the wily Marie. They set sail with the evening tide, and after a late meal, Constance was summoned again to Jacqueline's cabin.

This time, the captain was not alone. Three men waited with her, Michel, Salvador, and Adam. Jacqueline was in her customary spot, the deep leather chair.

Adam in particular was grinning ear to ear. The short pirate, he of the sun-bleached hair, hazel eyes, and hook-shaped scar, rubbed his hands together eagerly as Constance entered the room. She paused, a faint tremor of apprehension running through her, and looked inquiringly at Jacqueline.

"I want to see you take on three men tonight," Jacqueline said by way of reply. "Three men at once, Constance, does that turn your knees weak with desire?"

Her throat was dry, and a blush of embarrassment reddened her face. Three men at once? Not since Rob and Enrique had she been with two men at the same time, Rob beneath her as she rode him, Enrique standing over them with his cock pushing in and out of her mouth. But three? And one of them Adam? His disposition toward her had been distinctly unfriendly since he'd groped her aboard the Ricarda and been stopped by Michel. She was unaccountably afraid of him, of what he might do.

But any arguments she might have had would have failed to sway Jacqueline. This, too, was part of the punishment. By making her rut with all three men, Jacqueline somehow expected to strike a blow of revenge against lords and ladies everywhere.

She stripped obediently, and with each bit of fair skin revealed to the hungry eyes of the men, Constance felt tingles of excitement. She was a slut, no better than any lowborn harlot, as Beatrice had said. She was cock-mad, as Jacqueline had surmised. An insanity of lust had overtaken her mind and left her caring only for the marvelous pleasures of the flesh.

The men were quick to undress and join her, on that spot of floor that had seen such use lately. Adam was first to touch her, greedily fondling her breasts and then smothering himself in them, sucking hard on her nipples and burying his face between the creamy globes.

"I knew from first I saw ye that ye were a saucy one," he said when he raised his head for a breath of air. "I knew ye'd be a right jolly good fuck."

Meanwhile, Salvador was embracing her from behind, his big hands on her waist and the stiff bar of his erection rubbing along the base of her spine. Michel dropped to his knees and commenced stroking and kissing her thigh.

"Hold her," he said to Salvador.

The Moor supported Constance as Michel hoisted and opened her legs. She hung suspended between them, Adam to the side of her now and still feasting on her breasts like a starved child. Her feet dangled. No part of her had contact with the floor, or anything but the bodies of the men. Michel began to lap at her cunny, and Constance moaned with delight.

They held her like that for a sweet eternity, until her every nerve was afire. She was at the brink of spending when Michel stopped. He stretched out below her, his cock pointing up.

"Lower her," he instructed.

Salvador did so. Constance bent her knees and sank onto Michel, feeling him fill her as her weight settled across his hips. She would have moved, rising and falling on him, making him slide in and out, but Salvador held her steady and bent her forward until she was braced with her hands to either side of Michel's shoulders.

She felt the Moor's dark fingers rubbing something around her bottom, some warmed and scented oil, and knew what he meant to do. Her gaze flew helplessly to Jacqueline, but there was no mercy to be found in those sapphire eyes.

Constance opened her mouth to plead, but that was when Adam, kneeling beside Michel, caught her head and poked his short but thick cock at her lips. The tip bumped her teeth, nudged her mouth open, and anything she might have said was muffled.

"Suck me now, thar's a good lass," Adam said.

"Easy, girl," Salvador's deep voice rumbled, in a tone he might have used to soothe a skittish mare. He drove steadily forth, parting her nether opening, a huge hot length pushing slowly in until he had pierced her to the root.

They were both buried in her now, Michel in her cunny and Salvador up her arse, and the sensation was of almost unbearable fullness. She wanted to object but Adam was diligently fucking her mouth, and protest would have availed her naught.

Michel and Salvador moved with great care, synchronizing their thrusts so that neither of their cocks slipped out of her. The fullness that had bordered on pain became something different, not quite pleasure but … she could not describe it.

"How's that, Constance?" Jacqueline asked. Her voice, light and mocking, seemed to come from much further away than the short distance to the chair. "Three cocks in you, every orifice stuffed full."

She made some garbled reply, not knowing what she might have said and not caring. By then she had found that her position, sandwiched between the two men, was in just such a way that the base of Michel's shaft was pressing squarely against her clitoris, and each movement sent thrilling waves of heat tumbling out from her center. Too, her bottom had relaxed enough to allow Salvador to fuck her with a smooth and even rhythm.

Lost, oh, she was lost in it, and the taunting laughter of Jacqueline came from very far away. Constance rolled her tongue around Adam, sucking as he pushed his hips back and forth, the tip of his cock hitting the back of her throat at each forward apex. She could already taste the salty droplets of his impending climax, and hear it in his ragged, gasping breath.

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