A Pirate's Crown

A Pirate's Crown

Bromm XII

The island of Meleath was an arid, rocky island ten miles long and no more than three miles wide at any point. Any animal larger than a rat had long since been hunted to depletion and the hard-scrabble hills were now grazed only by herds of goats brought from the mainland. On the east end of the island was a sandstone fortress, built centuries ago by a long-forgotten king and seized five decades ago by the enterprising pirate Terkar.

Countless slaves had died expanding that fortress to its present size, augmenting the ringwall and drum tower with a second wall, granaries, armories, bathhouses, lavish apartments, and a bastion overlooking the harbor. Outside the wall, date groves had taken root in the only good soil on the island. From the parapet, one could watch the pitiful slaves tend to these groves, taking refuge under their wide fronds from the sun that beat down mercilessly upon them. High above them loomed a watchtower that could see all the way across the island's expanse and to the sea on the far side where, somewhere over the horizon, lay the rich land of Zahir.

Below the drum tower that served as Terkar's residence, the pirate Bromm was seated on the parapet, dreaming of Zahir. Running a sun-worn hand through his black hair and beard, he stretched his broad shoulders against the stone of the wall. From where he lounged against a merlon, he could see out into the island's dry, rocky interior, as well as into the narrow harbor where his beloved ship lay. At thirty-two guns, Lion of Amra was not only a more formidable vessel than anything in Terkar's fleet, but one of the most powerful warships in the whole eastern sea. The thought made him smile. Even though Terkar was a veteran of forty years of plunder, the old pirate had come to rely heavily on Bromm's fearsome frigate to run down prey on the open sea and batter enemy warships into submission.

But the other reason he was smiling was the girl sucking his cock. She was young, slender, pretty, and with skin in the shade of lilac. A visling, she had been a prized concubine of the emir of Arram until four days before, when Bromm had lifted her from the sinking ruins of the emir's pleasure barge and taken her into his cabin aboard Lion of Amra for a triumphant romp. Then, he and the six xebecs of Terkar's fleet had ransacked and burned the coastal palace before returning to the crowded harbor on Meleath for a celebratory orgy, which was still going on.

"There you are," called Serris, Bromm's lieutenant. The other man was naked from the waist down, his skin tanned by countless hours under the harsh ocean sun and his mop of curly brown hair a mess from a whole day of drinking, dancing, fucking, and dicing. He swayed with drink as he slowly climbed down the stairs to where Bromm and his visling plaything sat. "I've been looking for you."

"Cylia and I needed some fresh air," Bromm said, winding a hand through the visling's ashen hair. "Don't stop sucking," he commanded, and her violet eyes flashed in eager agreement. Her head bobbed up and down on his thick cock, her little fangs brushing against his skin when she grew careless, and Bromm leaned his head back against the merlon.

"Come back inside," Serris said. "You're missing the dancing girls."

"I've seen them before," Bromm answered, casting his eyes out over the island. He loved to fuck with a view.

"Terkar wants you beside him as a show of strength. The brothers have been quarreling again."

With a sigh, Bromm stood up, lifted Cylia to her feet and then slung her over his shoulder to carry her inside the tower. They climbed the stairs of the tower and entered its middle level where the victorious pirates had gathered. As soon as he entered, he was confronted with the sight of two orcs standing, with a buxom slave girl suspended in between them. The orcs were fucking both her holes, kissing and biting at her neck, and groping her all over as they bounced her up and down on their cocks. She screamed with delight, and Bromm merely walked past with a knowing smile.

He passed a slave girl standing nude, holding a pitcher of wine to her stomach as a tanned, hairy pirate fucked her from behind. Little droplets of wine spilled from her pitcher to the floor, but she was too lost in the throes of pleasure to notice or care. Behind the couple waited a crowd of other pirates had gathered to wait their turn.

Between Bromm and Terkar, they commanded several hundred men, but only a few score slave girls, and so lines had formed of men waiting to fuck one of the sluts in attendance. As Bromm passed an olive-skinned slave girl satisfying five men at a time, with one in each hole and another in each hand, ten more pirates waited impatiently, in various stages of undress and all eagerly stroking their cocks.

Bromm was fortunate enough to both have his own woman for the night and to be admitted to lord's hall, where the proportions were more favorable. Three jawaris, stolen from the sultan's palace, if Terkar was to be believed, danced naked on the table at the center of the hall, clad in only bracelets and wide gilded girdles and watched by an enraptured crowd. They were singing a song composed by Terkar's wife, Aniqa, celebrating his sack of an Amazon town some decades ago. Bromm made his way through a sea of writhing, naked bodies to the side of Terkar, who sat on a throne overlooking the orgy in an open robe that showed off his enormous body.

The pirate lord was an old man, nearing sixty, but looked even older due to his great corpulence. He weighed nearly four hundred pounds, with a huge overhanging belly, breasts bigger than any of his wives, and a thick neck that hung in folds. His hair was nearly gone, and his face wrinkled with age, but his eyes were as sharp as ever. He watched Bromm approach with interest, his eyes flicking from Bromm's face to Cylia's bare ass hanging over his shoulder.

Bromm stepped up onto the raised platform where Terkar and his wives sat. Only two of them were present, attended by their maids. The first was his favorite wife, Aniqa, who sat beside him in a robe of heavy red silk, picking lazily at a platter of crab meat. Second was Terkar's newest wife Gwynyth, a young blonde girl brought from the flesh markets of Torvuls by a lieutenant attempting to ingratiate himself with the pirate lord. While Aniqa sipped her wine and ate crab, Gwynyth has laid herself naked across the pillows at Terkar's side and lifted his massive belly off his cock to pleasure him. Her pretty little head bobbed up and down on his fat cock, and the pirate lord smiled at Bromm's approach.

"There you are," he said with a sigh, his voice thick with phlegm. "I thought the emir might have gotten you." He laughed, his thick chest shaking as he did. Bromm smiled, and Terkar leaned over to give his young wife a slap on her ass. She squealed in delight, and Terkar smiled wider.

Bromm set Cylia down on her feet and seated himself on a pillow before the great lord. Terkar's chest was scarred from many battles, but his hands had a remarkable tenderness to them as he caressed the bodies of both of his wives. Aniqa smiled softly, taking another cup of wine as she looked out over the raucous party. Cylia knelt beside Bromm and resumed sucking his cock.

"I was taking in the view," Bromm said at last, and Terkar nodded.

"It's a fine view out there, especially at sunset, but what could compare to the view in here?" He swept a hand over the crowd and Bromm could hardly disagree. Slave girls and boys moved through the crowd with fresh food and drink. They were naked or nearly so, and few of them made it far from the kitchen door before they were pulled into the orgy to satisfy the horde of ravenous men. "We are lucky to have our own women," Terkar said, giving Gwynyth another spanking. "It is a veritable famine out there."

Bromm nodded, then looked to the eight maids seated behind Terkar and his wives. "If only the emir had been aboard his barge," Bromm lamented. "We could have seized the rest of his harem and put him to the sword as well."

"I will see to it that my informant is severely chastised for his over-confidence," Terkar said darkly. "We have dealt him an embarrassing, but ultimately minor, blow today and he will surely be out for revenge."

Bromm nodded again. For all the jubilation of the successful raid, he could not put the emir from his mind. Bromm had had painful dealings with the emir's father and predecessor, but found the son to be a much more formidable man. Already, he had expanded his father's fleet, defeated a number of rival emirs of Zahir, and outfitted the bastions of his harbor with newer, more powerful guns that could ward off even a ship of the Lion of Amra's size. It surely would not be long before the emir came for them himself.

"But that is not today," Terkar said, seemingly reading Bromm's mind. "Today, we celebrate another successful raid."

Terkar brushed Gwynyth aside and stood up, his heavy belly falling over his cock once again. He raised a hand to signal one of Aniqa's maids, who struck a clarion silver bell by his throne. The throng in the hall did not respond, too engaged in eating, drinking, and fucking, so she struck the bell again. the three jawaris stopped their singing and turned toward Terkar. Slowly, the other revelers began to turn their attention to Terkar as well, who closed his robe about him and began to speak.

"Are we eating well tonight?" he asked, and the pirates cheered in the affirmative. "Good. Are we fucking well tonight?" he asked with a knowing smile, and the pirates roared with eager abandon. The roof shook, the walls echoed with their cheers, and Bromm winced a little.

"Good!" Terkar threw his arms out wide. "You've all done marvelous work. The emir will be smarting over that one for a while now. But before everyone gets too drunk on wine and women, I wanted to congratulate and share my thanks with our ally, Bromm. Bromm, stand up!"

All eyes turned on Bromm, who was lying on a bed of pillows while the beautiful visling girl sucked his cock. Suddenly aware of the attention, he tried to rise, but Cylia lay across his lap and kept his cock in between both hands.

"Hold on girl," Bromm chastised, and she looked up to him with a guilty smile. "He's talking about how great I am, and I want to hear it." Cylia lifted herself up from his cock and sat back on her heels with her hands on her knees. A line of spittle dripped from her burgundy lips to her lilac chest and Bromm felt his cock throb, wanting to be in her mouth again. But he stood before Terkar instead.

"It's been nearly a year now that you've been sailing with us," Terkar went on, "And in that time I cannot even begin to count all of the plunder you've helped us win. Mountains of gold, jewels, spices... and of course beautiful girls!" he held out a hand to Cylia, and she blushed, though it was not so apparent with her natural lilac complexion.

"But in this latest raid, you have outdone yourself," Terkar went on. "And for that, you have my deepest thanks." He raised a goblet in a toast, and a cheer went around the hall.

Bromm bowed slightly, unsure of how to take it. Terkar was not usually so sentimental, but he clearly had had a lot of wine.

"I am honored," Bromm said, moving closer to Terkar to shake hands. Cylia knelt beside him, and he was all too aware of his hard cock standing out wet before him, detracting from the gravity of the moment. "But I didn't do it just for you," he went on. He grabbed Cylia by the hair and pulled her to her feet. "I did it for the gold, the jewels and the girls!" he cried, and the pirates roared in agreement. Tables thundered under raucous drumming, wine was guzzled, and he heard more than a few hands clapped on ample asses around the room.

"Aye, Bromm's right," Terkar agreed. He drained the goblet, threw it down and seized another from the table by his throne. "Drink up and fuck yourselves silly! It's a night for celebration!"

The hall shook with cheers again and went back to its revels. Bromm and Terkar sat back down, and Gwynyth and Cylia wasted little time in putting mouths to cock once again.

"This is how we are meant to live," Terkar sighed, resting a fat hand on the back of Gwynyth's bobbing head. "When I was younger, I longed for nothing more than to be at the helm of my Debauchery, running down another fat merchantman laden with spice and silks. But now, in my old age, I want little more than wine, meat, music, and pretty girls."

He turned to Aniqa and gave her a loving kiss. She smiled sweetly back at him, set aside her goblet, and laid herself across his lap to join Gwynyth in sucking his cock. Terkar smiled at Bromm over their heads.

"I love a pretty girl," Bromm said, squeezing Cylia's ass in one hand, "But the thrill of adventure is one I could never give up. Gold, silks, jewels... I want it all."

Terkar raised his hand, adorned with a heavy golden ring studded with a large diamond. "I do love my jewels," he mused. Then he looked out to the crowded hall. "And my sons."

Bromm followed his gaze to where Terkar's many sons were scattered around the room, the most prominent of them each surrounded by a knot of their close supporters and concubines. First, there was the eldest, Saffar, then the conniving Jiran, the brash but popular Khalan and his four full-blooded brothers, and lastly Apsar, the young son of the Terkar's favorite wife. The other, less notable, ones clung closely to their brothers in contentious factions, all competing for the plunder and their father's favor.

Presently, Saffar knelt behind a pale, buxom redheaded girl on a couch, thrusting into the girl with great vigor. Across the hall, his brother Jiran watched with barely concealed envy. They had quarreled over the girl aboard the emir's barge, with the older brother emerging the victor. But Jiran was a crafty one, and Bromm doubted that the dispute was resolved.

"They will be fighting again," Terkar sighed, again knowing Bromm's thoughts. "They will all fight once I am gone. I only hope that you and Vyrun can broker some sort of agreement between them."

As if summoned, Terkar's top lieutenant Vyrun appeared. The visling was dressed below the waist, unlike nearly everyone else in the hall, and carried two bottles of wine for his lord. He set them down beside Terkar with a smile.

"A fine toast, Lord," he said, and Terkar waved him off.

"What are you doing bringing me wine, Vyrun? I have so many slaves for that and this is a night to celebrate. Find yourself a girl and have a good time."

"In time, my lord. But I wanted to bring you something and tell Captain Bromm here 'good work.'"

"I thank you," Bromm said in appreciation, though he appreciated Cylia's work more at the moment.

"And also, Lord," Vyrun went on in quieter tones, "to caution you about your sons."

"Aye," Terkar broke in with a furrowed brow. "I will need to watch them. Jiran and Saffar most of all, but they all have their quarrels."

"They covet that girl dearly," Vyrun agreed, watching her full breasts bounce beneath her as Saffar fucked and his supporters watched with glee. "I only hope they can get through the night without violence."

"Bring the wine to them," Terkar instructed. "Once they're drunk enough, they won't be able to walk, let alone fight. Perhaps they'll drink enough to have forgotten the whole thing by morning."

Vyrun nodded, picked up the bottles and left. Terkar watched him go with a grim glower.

"Perhaps you might distract Jiran by giving him your own girl," Terkar suggested, pointing a hand at Cylia, who continued pleasuring Bromm as if she had not heard. Bromm shook his head.

"I captured her with my own blood and sweat. If Jiran wants a girl, he can steal or buy one himself."

"Damn it all, Bromm!" Terkar blustered with exasperation. "I talked you up in front of everyone, can't you at least give up a pretty slut to make my problems go away?"

They locked eyes and stared hard at each other a moment, then both burst out laughing. Terkar raised a hand to wipe a tear from his eye.

"Ah, Gods... I've made my own bed," he conceded. "It seems only fit that I sleep in it myself. At least I'll have good company." He gave Gwynyth and Aniqa each a slap on the rump, and they moaned in pleasure as one.

"Speaking of good company," Bromm said, leading Terkar's gaze across the hall again. His son Apsar stood amid a circle of couches, watched by his supporters, as a naked, tawny-skinned slave girl sucked his limp cock. Frustration was evident on his young face, his fists balled impatiently on his hips. Not far away, his half-brother Khalan lay on a couch with a naked girl of his own, conspicuously failing to conceal his laughter.

"Damn," Terkar muttered. "It's always something."

His mother sat up and wiped her mouth. "Terkar, they're laughing at him," she pleaded. "Do something!"

"What can I do?" he shrugged, cupping her jaw. "I adore you, my dear, but that boy is a weakling."

Aniqa scowled, then turned to her maids. "You know how to please him," she said to one of them. "Go help him. Make him look strong like his father."

With a nod and a bow, the woman stood up and crossed to Apsar. She knelt before him and took his cock from the slave girl, pleasuring him with a practiced touch, and his cock began to harden. Apsar closed his eyes and threw back his head, but Bromm could tell it was not in pleasure but in embarrassment at needing his mother's maid to help him.

Bromm could feel the boy's embarrassment secondhand, and he stood up. "I'll see you later," he said, helping Cylia to her feet. "I must see to my own men."

"Of course," Terkar replied, frustration with his son evident on his face. "Perhaps in the morning, I feel the wine coming on strong." A slur was beginning to creep into his voice and Bromm nodded in understanding.

"In the morning, then." He laid an arm around Cylia's waist and led her away. They picked their way across the room toward the side where Bromm's men were gathered, navigating around couches piled high with drunken, rutting forms. Here and there, a wandering hand reached out to caress Cylia as she walked by, her head held high and a teasing smile on her lips. Bromm slapped them all away before they could touch his plaything, but he reveled in the knowledge that everyone in the room wanted what he had. Men grew drunk at the mere sight of her, unable to control their lust for her, but it was Bromm who had been fucking her each night, not them.

"Bromm!" someone called out, and Bromm stopped in front of Jiran. The pirate princeling slid over a couch to sit beside Bromm, his legs crossed as he rested a wine cup between his fingers. "Good, I wanted to speak with you."

Bromm considered the princeling carefully. Jiran was always amiable, but always scheming. He was too charming to dislike, but too insincere to ever take a real liking to either. Still, Bromm decided to be civil with him.

"Something on your mind, Jiran?" he asked, holding Cylia close to him. Jiran's eyes wandered up and down her body, but when he spoke it was not of women.

"I have a proposal for you," he said, his eyes lingering on Cylia's hips. "There is an island in the Broken Chain where ships wreck from time to time."

"The spice galleon?" Bromm asked. "Your father rejected that plan. It's too far and we have too little knowledge of where the wreck lies."

"Indeed, he did," Jiran mused. "But that it why it is perfect... for us. You and me, Bromm. We can find the galleon and keep the cargo for ourselves. If we do all the work, he won't make it share us with him or my brothers."

"Assuming we find anything," Bromm countered. "Terkar rejected the plan for a reason."