Cursed Seas Pt. 01: The Wishing Stone

"Wha? Whatcha wan' me t'do, Lily? Can't we stay like this?" Shella asked, turning back to Lily.

Lily shook her head sadly, and kissed Shella. The world around them became consumed by mist, until Shella was blind and couldn't feel anything anymore.

* * *

Shella slowly opened her eyes. It had been a dream. Far more vivid than any other dream Shella had ever had, but that didn't stop the gut-wrenching twist of disappointment she felt deep in her stomach. The world didn't listen to, nor care, about her.

Darkness, creaking wood, and the thick smell of the ocean surrounded her. She was sleeping on a rocking hammock, one of dozens crammed into the crew quarters of the Harpy. Shella tumbled out of the hammock and fumbled for her clothes, which she had crammed underneath the hammock's paper-thin pillow.

Sleeping in the nude was far from a problem on the Harpy. A few other women still slept around her, either nude or mostly nude. Crusty claws hung off of gently swinging canvas, bodies twitched in remembrance of missing flesh, and rough skin scraped against fraying fabric. The Harpy was not a ship for men. It was a ship for the women who were damned, cursed, and twisted.

Shella was one of them, though she often felt otherwise. It was more than just her deep-sea eyes and gills, but whatever inhumanity was part of her body was inside it. On the outside, she was perhaps the most beautiful woman on the ship. Many of the other women claimed she was more blessed than cursed.

She squeezed into her pants and put on her shirt. A ragged belt was slung around her waist, and her fingers searched for the handle of a dagger. They closed around bone, and a green jewel and waving metal blade twinkled in the darkness.

Shella shivered as she slid the blade into its rightful place; a tough loop attached to the belt. The dagger was something the Master of all the Damned had given her, and the jewel in its hilt was a prison for the souls slain by the weapon. If it was filled with 66 souls, and if Shella found the wreck of the ship the Sea Lilith, Lily would come back to her. However, the dagger was drained of souls every year from the day Shella had gotten the damned thing.

She rolled her neck to work the cricks out and ascended the ladder up the cargo hatch onto the main deck. The early morning light cast everything in a bleary orange hue, and around her, women of strange forms and curses labored and lounged. The Harpy was in ill repair - most Damned ships were - with broken railings and patched sails. It had once been a respectable frigate, but that was before the sinister Captain Lash had claimed it. Under its wicked captain, the Harpy had only one purpose: destroy the enemies of the Damned.

Of course, that meant finding them to begin with, and the Harpy as of now was patrolling around a set of tropical islands, searching for a mortal vessel to vent its unholy wrath upon. A woman with a toothy smile and a set of tentacles for one limb peered through a spyglass at the top of the crow's nest. She'd scream down if she saw anything, but thus far, nothing.

The anticipation was killing a good part of the crew. All of them ate naught and drank naught, such was their cursed existence, nor was their destination ever set. Their only purpose was to kill, and without action, many waited, and waited, and waited.

Part of Shella feared finding another ship. It wasn't of any danger to her, but it was that damned dagger! There were nights where her dreams were haunted by those claimed by the thing, bloody fingers tearing at the inside of their prison.

"Well, I see you're finally up," said a straight-haired woman sidling next to Shella. Clothes and skin blended together on her as a pallid white bell dress blended together with her body, her high, firm tits covered by frilly leaves, making her look like a combination of jellyfish and human - or a ghost.

"Yeah, not all o' us glow a' night, Gwen," Shella muttered back, "Anythin'?"

"Oh, no. We have the day to ourselves," Gwen said, putting her arm around Shella's.

Shella sighed and pulled her arm away. Gwen was quite a pretty lass, at odds to the zombies and beast-things and what-have-you's on the Harpy. She'd attached herself to Shella as soon as Shella had been assigned to the Harpy. It was like Gwen could smell the lusts and preferences of Shella, and Shella had just accepted it. But Lily still burned in Shella's mind.

"What's the matter?" Gwen innocently asked.

"Nuthin', jes' rememberin' an ol' girl o' mine," Shella mumbled, her eyes on the horizon.

"Lily again?"

"Yeah." Lily was kind of a small secret that the entire crew knew about. They knew that she was someone from Shella's past, and that she was gone. The crew thought she had gone to the grave.

"Well, do not forget that I'm always here, my sweet. You know how good I make you feel," Gwen said. She pecked Shella on the cheek.

"Sluts," someone muttered close to Shella. Shella glared at the speaker, a skeleton wearing the remains of a once-fine dress sitting next to the railing.

"Yer jes' jealous tha' I ken get some," Shella joked. It felt like she was kidding herself. It wasn't a lie, but it still felt dishonest.

The skeleton rose up. "You're a slut, a whore, and a harlot. You'll always be one. You and your filthy friend deserve every ounce of being here," she growled, pointing at Shella and Gwen with a bones-bared finger.

"Aw, shaddup, Jenny. Ye jes' wanna feel me tits, 'n ye know it," Shella said with a mocking grin, grabbing and jiggling her own bosom. Gwen giggled at that, covering up her mouth to hide her charming little smile.

"No, I do not!" Jenny hissed back between bleached teeth. Her full known name was Jenny Ivory. Beyond her once-beautiful dress, there was nothing to indicate her gender. "You two harlots are damned to suffer for your unnaturalness!"

"Not takin' a look in th' mirror, 'ave ye?" Shella said.

"I don't belong here! But you? You and that whore deserve worse. You should be burned alive constantly, along with your stupid delusions.," Jenny said.

Shella shook her head. She had no idea where Jenny Ivory had come from; like most of the women of the Harpy, Jenny had arrived before Shella's time. But Jenny carried herself with the hot air of arrogance and nobility, always trying to excuse herself and distancing herself from the other damned women. Shella secretly suspected that Jenny was some kind of aristocrat, and that she wanted her beauty back to boot. "Yeah, I bet tha's a pack o' lies," Shella said, "Whatcha do ta get on? Didja steal something? Nah, too small."

Jenny Ivory hissed.

"Hmm, lemme think," Shella said, stroking her chin. "Musta been somethin' really bad. I can just see it, ye do somethin' an uptight princess like yerself ain't suppose ta do, 'n they throw ya to th' sea wolves, ne'er thinkin' ye'd get back up. What would it be, eh? Ya fuck somebody, perhaps? That's gotta be it. Maybe with some rich man? Nah..."

"Shella, I think you're taking this too far," Gwen whispered.

Shella held a hand up to Gwen. "Perhaps a peasant," she said.

Jenny Ivory was hissing like a snake, her hands opening and closing.

"Nah, too good fer someone like ya. It's gotta be sumthin' that'd getcha kicked outta society. Sumthin' like a..."

There was a pregnant pause in the air as Shella looked at Jenny Ivory with a more-than-malicious grin. "A pig," she announced decisively.

Jenny Ivory shrieked a hollow shriek of rage and launched herself at Shella. Bony fingers wrapped themselves around Shella's neck with surprising strength, crushing Shella's tender gills. Pain flared across Shella's neck as her throat gave away, crumpling to Jenny's wrath. It hurt like hell, but Shella wasn't concerned about it.

Hissing inhumanly, Jenny seemed to forget about her humanity and bit down on Shella's fin-like ear. She pulled away viciously, tearing a hunk of it off and stringing strange pinkish blood with it. Jenny dropped the hunk of ear and bent forward for another bite. Shella wasn't too concerned about this either. It was just like her throat, as much trouble as she had breathing right now. But it was more than worth it to remind Jenny that she wasn't an aristocrat now, much less human.

They had drawn a crowd around them as Jenny tore into Shella. Murmurs came from the crowd as they started betting if Shella would fight back this time. She wasn't planning on it. She could grit through the pain and striking back would only make it worse when Captain Lash appeared.

A thunderous boom echoed across the deck. The crowd automatically parted from Shella and Jenny, Gwen blending into the crowd. The door to the captain's quarters had been flung open to reveal Captain Lash.

Captain Lash was a woman out of a nightmare. Her tall, lanky body was crooked and twisted oddly, and it was all because of the belts and straps covering her. Black leather straps crossed her body over and underneath her clothes in a chaotic array. Squeezed pale-purple flesh gasped out of the gaps between the belts. Her head was wrapped up in the crushing straps, the only feature visible was a single baleful eye glaring out. Around her right hand, cords and bands of leather bound a long whip to her as if it was an extension of herself and over her mangled form she wore a long coat.

"What is going on here?" Captain Lash said. Her voice was soft and muffled by the bindings around her, but the ship was dead-silent. Everyone heard her.

Jenny's hands sprang away from Shella and she stumbled back. "I-it was her! She provoked me!" Jenny cried out.

Shella rubbed her sore neck. Already, she could feel flesh writhe. Soft, slick pink tendrils began to grow from the mangled remains of her ear and grew together, then skin crawled back up it. Within a few seconds, her ear had regrown. "I ain't the only one who done some provokin', rattlebones," she said.

Captain Lash stalked towards the two over them, looming over them both. Her single baleful eye swept over the two of them, looking at Shella's regenerating ear and at Jenny's pink-stained teeth. The parts of Shella's ears that Jenny had torn off were dissolving into pink slime. "Strip," she commanded.

Shella sighed and pulled off her shirt. This would hurt a lot more than Jenny's biting would. Jenny quivered in fear. "P-please, it was all her fault!"

"Aww, shaddup an' take yer licks," Shella spat as she peeled her pants off.

Captain Lash motioned at a crewmate and they hurriedly grabbed a length of rope. After Jenny slid out of her cloths, her left hand was tied to Shella's right, and they were both tied to the main mast. Shella gritted her teeth as she waited. This wouldn't do much of anything to her, but it'd sting like hell and act as a reminder.

A whistling crack swung through the air followed by a gash of pain across Shella's back. She and Jenny bucked away from it, the blow having crossed across Jenny's back as well. The rough blow sliced across her skin crudely and rasped Jenny's bones like a file.

"One," Captain Lash announced, and readied her whip again.

* * *

Captain Lash ceased after 50 whip lashes. After being untied, Shella was left kneeling and holding herself and Jenny was collapsed on the floor, curled into a ball. Shella's entire backside had been torn apart into a pink bloody mess. It was screaming in pain and writhed as it healed itself back together. She was bent over, shivering, trying not to cry from the pain. She'd forgotten too easily just how damned much it hurt! The blows only stung more and more as the whip licked flesh that was trying to heal itself, breaking tender new flesh apart. She told herself mentally, again and again, that it'd get better, it'd heal up just like it always did. There wouldn't be so much as a scar left on Shella's hide within a few minutes.

Jenny Ivory was worse, though. With no flesh on her, it was only her bones to bear the brunt of the pain. Hair-thin fractures covered the back of her ribs and her spine, bones scraped and beaten until they broke. Jenny would recover, too, but it would be longer. "I hope you're happy," she whispered, shivering from the pain.

"Shouldn'ta called it a delusion, jackass," Shella said. She weakly stood up as the last of the whip-cuts sealed up. Pinkish blood was evaporating off the decks and her back. It was as if that if the flesh and blood wasn't part of Shella's body, it would vanish as if it had never existed. Shella grabbed her clothes and put them on hurriedly. The crowd had dissipated and returned to doing whatever chores they had been doing before.

Gwen remained. She slid up to Shella and took her arm, tearing her away from the main mast and leaving Jenny alone. "You really, really shouldn't have done that," Gwen said.

"Ye know how she talks 'bout us. She hates me, she thinks 'm dreamin' up Lily, she hates us bein' together, an' she hates everyone else on this tub. If she had her way, she'd burn the boat and dance back t' whatever hall she first danced out of. Someone needed ta remind her that she's down here too, an' tha' she ain't no boss," Shella said.

"You did it because you hate her, sweetie," Gwen said, looking Shella square in the eye.

Shella tried to match it but looked away. "Mebbe I do. Only returnin' th' favor. 'Sides, I'd of never have done it if'n she didn't bring up Lily."

Gwen shook her head and pulled Shella farther away from Jenny. Shella could feel Jenny's eyes bore into the back of her head.

They spent the rest of the day in silence. Shella knew Gwen was mad with her; she'd have to be blind not to. Was it getting herself hurt, or using her pain to hurt Jenny? Or maybe it was just her vicious words for Jenny. Shella couldn't help herself. Jenny thought that Lily was some crazy fantasy of Shella's. Other crew mates thought that Shella was a fool for trying to bring someone back. They didn't say it, but she could see it in their eyes.

Aw, hell, maybe Shella was. Maybe she was too tightly wrapped around the thought of Lily. It hadn't been the first time that Lily had gotten Shella in trouble without even doing anything. Her first week on the Harpy saw her letting Lily slip and trying to maul someone for laughing at the thought of bringing someone back. It was the first time Shella had been whipped, and it had hurt a lot. She was surprised at how quickly she healed up then, given the wounds Captain lash could deal. She'd learn her lesson, though. Getting into a tussle only gave her more lashes.

Noon passed, bloodstains from Shella's pink blood vanishing under the sun inexplicable. The sun fell to the horizon, casting idle waves into orange blades that broke against the Harpy's hide. Night approached.

"Hey, Gwen?" Shella spoke up. They were staring at the sun set.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry 'bout earlier today. I'm jest a little touchy."

"I know."

"Anythin' I can do ta make it up ta ye?"

"There's always one thing. Count your lucky stars I'm feeling generous," Gwen said.

"I get it, I get it!" Shella mocked.

Gwen pulled Shella to the cargo hatch. Shella descended first, and she got a nice eyeful when Gwen climbed down the ladder. There wasn't anything obstructing the glorious view from underneath.

Giggling playfully, Gwen took Shella past the hammocks and the odd sleeping crewmember and pulled her into a small room at the front of the ship with a wide door. It had been used to store alcohol when the Harpy had been crewed by mortal men. Now, Captain Lash wasn't about to get any of her ladies drunk, and the room had only the odd bit of cloth, rope and wood in it. Shella missed rum.

But now, she had Gwen. She closed the door behind them and clicked the latch shut for the only bit of privacy any common woman would ever get on the Harpy. Gwen leaned against the outside wall. An unused by open gun port leaking what little light was left into the room, not that Shella needed it. Gwen's body glowed naturally, the curves and swells of her body illuminating the small room. Her dress had receded even higher - it was an organic part of her, and its ascension told of her need.

Shella went to Gwen and kissed her. Gwen's lips were smooth and cool. Their mouths matched perfectly, and Shella began to feel the heat of lust inside her core. She ran her hands along Gwen's hips and back. Smooth skin, inhumanly so, and feeling far thinner than it actually was.

Gwen broke the kiss with a breathy air, tilting her head back to let Shella kiss her throat. Sighing as lips met her neck, Gwen hugged Shella close. Fingers ran through Shella's tangled green hair as Gwen moaned, "Oh, Shella, you're the best thing to ever happen to me.

Shella continued to kiss down Gwen's throat and across her collar. Hard points poked her from Gwen's breasts. As she ventured even farther, sinking down on Gwen's wonderful body, Shella kissed each of Gwen's tits. She groped each one with her hands, feeling their weight and firmness and bouncing them on her palms.

Curling her fingers around the leaf-like coverings, Shella gently peeled them back to reveal Gwen's bosom. Faintly pink nipples, engorged and hard, stuck outwards. They were perfect, and needed to by touched.

Gentle thumbs swept over the hard buds. They resisted faintly, but bent to Shella's demands and made Gwen moan just slightly. The glowing woman's eyes looked at Shella and her actions with rapt attention, waiting to be subjected to whatever desires Shella had.

Hands groped Gwen's breasts, fingers sinking into womanflesh. Smooth, almost fragile, yet round and full, so wonderfully round and full. Shella pushed them up and squeezed them playfully. Rubbing her thumbs against Gwen's erect nipples elicited a moan from the frilly woman.

"Mmnnn, have ye be waitin' all day fer me?" Shella teased as she looked into Gwen's bosom.

"Yes, oh yes!" Gwen mewled as thumbs circled her nipples.

"Tha's good. Yer a good lass, Gwen. Ye deserve this," Shella taunted. Her own arousal soaked through her. Hard, aching nipples poked against the fabric of her shirt. Her core burned with desire. It was just a distraction, and Shella knew how much of a distraction it was, but she enjoyed it.

Shella let go of Gwen's body to get out of her clothes and prevent her wetness from staining them. She threw her belt off and peeled her pants away, and Gwen watched with aroused interest as Shella bent down. She undid the button of her shirt and tossed it aside, standing naked for her lover. Hard, dark nipples stood out from her grand bosom, and her red flower was moist with need.

Gwen growled her approval through a chewed lip, her hands gently stroking her own bosom. Her dress, part of her body, had risen even high, scandalously close to showing her thirsty sex. She broke away from the wall to walk up to Shella and kissed her, their warm lips mingling again. Gwen's hands reached up and squeezed Shella's tits. Firm flesh resisted, but pangs of pleasure echoed through Shella's bodies. "Mmm, you bet I do," Gwen said as she broke the kiss, "I've wanted to play all day with you, to hide away in here and just..."

"Let me have my way?" Shella asked, before sweeping Gwen off her feet and delivering a deep kiss to her. Their tongues mingled together, twisting and groping each other like serpents. Gwen moaned in the kiss, her cries of pleasure muffled by Shella. With an overdramatic, heavy flair, Shella broke it.

"Yes, yes, have your way with me!" Gwen said, trying to keep it quiet.

Shella grinned and bore her to the ground. Sitting back with a hand on each of Gwen's legs, Shella got an eyeful of Gwen's wet womanhood. It was pink to her pale white, engorged, puffy, and shining with need. She wanted this on a primal level.