Admiral's Order

On the fortified island of Copperhaven, in a private solar built from the wreck of a mighty Gardate galleon, Admiral Molly Arvah, Scarlet Moll, robber-queen of the Alloyed Isles, sprawled and ached. The windows overhead cut the midday sunlight into long, narrow slices, casting thin stripes of brightness across the great dark curve of her belly. They warmed her bare skin - she had long since given up on trying to find clothes that covered her comfortably. Besides, what was the point? There wasn't a soul on Copperhaven who didn't know by now that Scarlet Moll was heavy with child.

A throwaway night of passion, they whispered. A wayward seed that caught inside her. Rumour had it that even Molly, unmarried and somewhat infamous for her carnal appetites, didn't know who the father was. This was all true, and just as she had planned it. If nobody could be sure of the child's paternity, then it would be Molly's heir and Molly's alone, and she could establish a line of succession and strengthen her tenuous hold on the Isles.

She had tried her hardest not to let her impending motherhood slow her down. No voyages, of course - pregnant women were bad luck aboard a pirate ship - but she had a tight inner circle of captains at her command, and she met with them whenever she could, planning sorties and plotting out patrol routes. She still addressed the ragtag committee that passed for Copperhaven's ruling council, keeping the island at some approximation of peace, and presided over trials when the court of blade and flintlock wouldn't suffice.

But, as the months wore on, her body set her agenda with greater and greater insistency. For one, it weighed her down. Molly had never been a small woman - she ate well as a warrior queen, further filling out the ample curves her Vayyan blood had given her. But now her once-soft belly was round and tight as a drum, making her back ache whenever she was upright and keeping her thighs almost permanently apart. Her breasts, too, had grown from abundant to immense, threatening to break whatever hastily converted bodice she tried to keep them in; at rest, as she was now, she untied then and let them hang, thick dark nipples pointing slightly outward to the sides as her immense stomach nudged them apart. A thin, dark trail led from her inverted belly button down to the thick undergrowth of near-black hair between her thighs, which she'd given up on trimming. She could scarcely even reach her crotch, let alone see it well enough to be comfortable taking a blade to it.

And that lack of reach was causing her no end of other troubles. Pregnancy had stoked Molly's naturally prodigious libido into a raging wildfire deep in her core, one she could scarcely keep up with some days. Early on, she'd caught herself idly rubbing her clit through her breeches under the council table more than once, and soon had to switch to skirts exclusively to lessen the tantalising friction. When her belly had outgrown her arms, Ohra, her high priestess and closest confidante, had given her a rod of smooth stone, what sages would blushingly call a "fertility idol". She'd lost whole afternoons kneeling over it and fucking herself to exhaustion.

But even that wasn't always enough. Her cunt craved warmth and motion and life. It demanded a companion.

She had to be wary, of course. Though she'd tried to keep living her life and wielding her authority as she always had, she knew as well as anyone that her state made her vulnerable, and she'd tightened her selection of consorts to reflect that. Only her most trusted captains and officers were invited up to her solar now, and they all too often had duties of their own to attend to, elsewhere on Copperhaven or out at sea. She'd put out a summons for one of them an hour ago, but he was presumably occupied elsewhere; in the meantime, all Molly could do was stew in her lust.

Her clit throbbed beneath her long, loose skirt. Nothing made her more acutely aware of it than having it neglected. It forced itself to the front of her mind and refused to shift. Play with me, it murmured. Rub me and lick me and make me cum. Now.

And so there she lay, sweating and writhing and cursing under her breath, as her desperation mounted and she considered reaching for that little stone idol again, just to tide herself over, even if it was no substitute for the real thing. In fact, she was already hauling her swollen body towards the edge of the bed, clawing at the air just short of the rod, when the door swung open with a creak.

"Ma'am," the voice behind it bellowed. Petyr was the sergeant-at-arms of Molly's honour guard, but even he wouldn't dare actually enter her chambers uninvited. From the acoustics, she could tell he wasn't even looking at her.

Molly hauled herself half-upright in bed, bracing her shoulders against the headboard. "Aye," she called back.

"Captain Valdi has arrived," announced Petyr.

"Send him in."

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am."

A few heavy footfalls later, Captain Valdi stepped through the door into the solar, nudging the door closed behind him. Even the sight of him made Molly sigh with relief. Her salvation had arrived.

Everything about Captain Thomas Valdi seemed just a little unfinished, from the rough outline of his jaw to the too-neat square silhouettes of his fists. He wasn't much taller than Molly, and his frame was lean and wiry, far from a great physical specimen. But he carried himself with a clear, hard certainty that made him impossible to ignore, as though his mere presence cut a hole in the world. Eccentric, yes; a little unsettling, absolutely; but there was nobody Molly trusted more than Tom Valdi when the stakes were high, and nobody she would turn to sooner in her hour of need.

He began to salute, bringing his right fist to his left shoulder, but Molly waved a hand and he reversed the motion neatly.

"Tom," she said.

"Admiral," said Tom, with a stiff nod. "I take it this isn't a matter of command."

"It's not?" Molly cocked her head playfully. "What put that in your head?"

Tom suppressed a laugh. "With respect, Admiral, I think you know I'd struggle to talk strategy with such distractions close at hand." His sharp blue-grey eyes jittered visibly - Molly could tell he was struggling not to stare too blatantly at her huge bare breasts. That made her smile. Even the implacable Captain Valdi had his limits.

"Clever boy," teased Molly. "Come closer, Captain. Over here."

Tom dutifully followed her lead, standing at attention beside her. He caught her eye and she nodded, signalling him to sink to his knees while Molly swivelled to face him, perched on the very edge of the bed, and hiked her skirt up to bare her aching cunt to him and the warm, still air. They'd danced this dance a few times before, but her patience for the preamble had worn thin. When she wanted Tom, she wanted him right now.

He lifted her powerful thighs up onto his shoulders, and she used her newfound leverage straight away to yank him in close, shoving his face into the sticky tangle of hair just above her tender folds. Tom set to work, untangling the dark thatch with his tongue until he found her clit, then lapping at it with a steady, purposeful rhythm, giving her a soft warm surface to grind against.

"That's it," Molly growled, raising herself up on her elbows in the hope of watching Tom work, though even then she could scarcely see him over the curve of her belly. "Lick my cunt. Fffffucking good boy..." This was the part where she'd usually grab her lover by the hair to hold them firmly in position, fuck their face, make herself cum fast and hard. But here, unable to reach Tom's head, barely even able to buck her hips, her body tied her down. He set the pace. Her words, once commands, now carried far less authority.

And he knew it, and revelled in it. His tongue danced and paused, sped up and slowed down, keeping her on the heady, ticklish edge of climax without ever pushing her over it. Molly's low moans became high, keening whines; she kicked her legs impotently; her pussy clenched tight around nothing at all, making her feel all the emptier and hungrier. She was one solid hip thrust away from a dizzying high, and her body wouldn't allow her to claim it.

And then, mad with anticlimax as she felt another almost-orgasm slip away from her, Molly gasped out a word she seldom used, in the heat of passion or otherwise.

"Please."

Tom stopped altogether, drawing a groan of frustration. "I beg your pardon, Admiral?" He spoke directly into her sex, and even the warm air teasing at her was enough to make her twitch and grab at the sheets.

"Please, Tom. I need to cum." The words came out shaky and half-formed, a shadow of her usual voice. She was only a few tender touches away... at least for a moment, until the lack of touch pulled the orgasm out of reach once more, making her thrash and groan again, trying in vain to drag Tom back into place with her calves.

"A new style for you, this," he chuckled. "But since you ask so nicely..."

And in an instant, his lips were pressed to her clit again, and his fingers were inside her, two knuckles deep, curling upward, finally sating that yawning emptiness in her cunt, and within a few flushed, breathless seconds, Molly came, shuddering and mewling as the knot of tension unravelled all over Tom's face. Tom, to his credit, held his position firmly throughout, waiting until Molly's body was limp and quivering to draw back for breath.

When she found the strength to ease herself up on her eyebrows and face Tom again, he was peering over her belly, his gaze as intense and purposeful as ever.

"I trust that I was satisfactory, Admiral."

"Fucker," Molly snapped. "What gave you the right to tease me like that?"

"With respect, ma'am," said Tom, without even a hint of respect, "it's entertaining."

Something about his brazenness brought fresh, sticky heat to Molly's gooey mess of a cunt, and she bit her lip, the satisfied glow already yielding to resurgent need. "Shut up and fuck me, Tom," she growled. "I'm not done with you."

That seemed to cut through his impudence for a moment. She saw the distinct tent in Tom's breeches as he stood up, and couldn't help but lick her lips as she rolled over onto her hands and knees, her belly resting heavily on the sheets. The idol was all well and good, but a real, warm, leaking prick in her cunt was a difficult feeling to replace.

Again Tom proved his efficiency, rooting himself in her as soon as she was in position. His cock, as rough-cut and irregular as the rest of him, nonetheless fit Molly like a glove, with a fat, bulging head and a slight downward curve that tickled deliciously at her sacred spot and wrung low, contented moans from her lips. With the slippery mess he'd already made of her, there was no need to start slow - he could, and did, slam hips against hips with vigour, giving Molly little extra stings of pleasure as his balls swung to meet her swollen clit.

Tom's hands found Molly's hips and he dug his fingers in. His breathing quickened and became more vocal, a low, animal growl that made Molly shiver. He was clearly trying to keep his stroke even, but she grinned as she felt him staring to lose it. She had always been proud of how quickly her pussy could defeat even the most veteran and cocksure of lovers, and, since she'd gotten knocked up, her powers had only grown. Lasting more than a few thrusts in her hot, sticky, grasping little fuckhole was no small feat, and, though Tom was trying his hardest, he couldn't hold out forever.

Which was what made it so very jarring when his stroke came to an abrupt halt. He was buried to the hilt in her, her sticky nectar leaking down onto his balls, but there he stayed, and Molly was about to raise her fervent objections and demand that he keep fucking her when she felt him leaning forward over her, and then his fingertips brushing down the sides of her heavy, hanging tits.

Oh, fuck.

Molly's breasts hadn't just grown in size as her pregnancy progressed, but in sensitivity, too. Her nipples chafed against anything she tried to wear over them, and she'd found that playing with them while she rode the idol gave her stronger, fuller climaxes. Tom knew this well, and that first squeeze, thumbs and forefingers firm on her dark, swollen nubs, made her whine desperately and her inner walls clench tight around Tom's unyielding shaft.

And then he started moving his hips again, still playing with her tits, and suddenly Molly found it difficult to focus on any one particular sensation - they all spun together, fingers and cock and balls, and that growl of his, that primal growl of sheer uncut lust. They took her over, from the core outwards, spreading through her until she felt ready to burst, and then...

It was an orgasm, but a very different kind to her first. Full-body, full-force. Every sense was overwritten with pleasure. She grabbed the sheets and buried her face in a pillow and screamed out her ecstasy until she had nothing left to give.

She was barely even aware of Tom's climax, but it was hardly surprising. Hers had milked him dry, his seed pooling deep inside Molly as his prick began to soften and he gingerly pulled back from her. Nothing quite matched the feeling of fresh cum inside her. Her addiction to that feeling was what had put her in this state, and now she could relish it as often as her energy and her lovers' loins would permit.

Her muscles were threatening to give out, so she eased herself onto her back again and sprawled out, huge and radiant, lying just as she had while she'd waited for him. Sticky seed trickled from her well-fucked pussy, staining her skirt, but that was the last of her cares in the moment.

Tom stowed his cock neatly in his britches, saluted smartly (this time Molly didn't have the energy to stop him), and cleared his throat. "Will that be all, Admiral?"

Normally, she would dismiss him here. It was important not to give her lovers undue attention or privilege over one another. But something in her molten post-orgasmic mind made her hesitate.

"No," she murmured.

Tom stiffened. "I beg your pardon? With respect, my body may not -"

"Stay a while longer," said Molly. "Lie with me."

After another moment's confusion, Tom lowered himself onto the sheets beside Molly, stained with sweat and slick and cum, and lay on his side, facing her. He said nothing, but, when she extended an arm, he took the hint and lifted his head to let her wrap it around him.

Molly drifted off, spending a long while in a hazy halfway state, but she definitely felt Tom's palm resting at the crux of her belly before sleep took her. Tom, for his part, stayed as long as he dared. But once Molly began to snore, he reluctantly slid out of bed and excused himself. He had business to attend to, though he doubted he'd be able to focus on it. Not with the scent of her cunt fresh on his cock, and the memory of what she'd mumbled into his ear just before she'd fallen asleep clear as crystal in his mind.