Bold in Her Breeches

He rolled over on top of her, his thick cock still filling her hot, grasping cunt. He looked deep into her eyes. He relaxed his grip on her throat just enough for her to whisper, "Anything."

And it was to be anything. And everything. And the tale of the Pirate Queen and the Broken Master and the Mutt who served them both would be told with groggy breath in many a lonely port. And the whores would sing of the naked Mutt, his naked Captain over his shoulder, and the naked pirate, her back to his belly, his hand at her throat, and their naked scuttle across the deck of the Sappho, crew leering with scheming eyes at the sight of their captain's abduction. They would sing of the island that was to become their haven and their home. And of their bloody reign of piracy, debauchery and sin. And of the dread ship Nobody, they would sing, those whores.

But that is a tale for another pint.