Cursed Seas Pt. 02: The Witch-Eye

Shella ran her hand up her breast, groping its soft flesh, holding it up, letting it slid down. Her hard nipple scraped against her palm. Every touch was a firecracker of delight. All because of Lily. All because of Shella's angel.

Her fire of lust grew as she fondled her breasts more. She licked her wetness off of her fingers before running her fingers back down. Her fingers tickled pink folds, bringing gifts of utmost pleasure. One against her nether lips, then two against her nether lips, each doused with her desire. She wanted Lily in the worst possible way, to hold her to that bed until they were both happily satisfied.

Shella's knees grew weak as her delight took control. She fell to her knees, water splashing up to her waist. Her need was still thicker than the saltwater ocean and feeling the bell-like harmony of her touched sex underwater only added to the nature intrinsic to her.

Her breasts heaved with every breath, her gills opening and closing like lips in lust. Her hand playing with her large peaches was so busy as it stroked upwards again and again. It was as if Shella was washing her bosom, but it felt more and more delightful.

A low moan broke through Shella's lips as her fingers dug in between her folds. She could imagine them sliding along her glistening pink petals. She could almost feel Lily doing it to her. Lily, because Lily loved her and she loved Lily back. Part of her hoped that Lily wasn't going to hear her uncontrollable lusty moans. Part of her hoped that Lily was watching.

Shella's fingers pierced her sex and slipped into her warm, velvet tunnel. A thunderbolt of pleasure ripped through her, her body shivering with ecstasy. Her eyes closed and her breasts were warm and tingling with passion. She brought one smooth, round, full breast up and kissed it, imagining, no, wanting them to be Lily's lips.

One knuckle slid into her sex, pulled out, then two. The way they pushed inside her made Shella shiver and moan with delight. Oh, how she craved for Lily's touch! To touch Lily and be touched! Her fingers swept along tender velvet walls that throbbed as she touched them. Her sex rang sensually, but it craved so much more.

Desperate for more, Shella swept her hand away from her breast and send it splashing underwater. It went to her sex, to team up with her other hand. Her breasts were pushed up by her arms, their hard nipples aching from desire.

Shella's bulging clit was harder than iron and ached for a caring touch. Her 'little' bean wasn't so little as it was as thick around as her thumb and was as long as the last knuckle on her pinky. When her finger carelessly brushed its strained hood, it was like her body had been shot by ecstasy. Hot pleasure flashed through her body and another moan escaped her lips. Lily would definitely hear, and Lily would undoubtedly look. That thought sent another surge of desire through Shella's body.

Her fingers mercilessly toyed with her womanhood. Wanton curiosity spread her pink lips out of desire and let viscous fluids escape into the warm sea. Lust scraped and rubbed her inner walls, stirring them up to a song of bliss. Carnal urge brushed against her most tender parts again and again, brewing up luxurious pleasure. Moans slipped from her lips, one after the other, each yearning for Lily.

Shella, in her rapture, bent backwards. Lost in pleasure, she wasn't aware she had fallen over until her head hit the water again. Though abrupt, it didn't stop the coursing of desire through her body. Her hair drifted freely and lazily. Thoughts of Lily's nubile body still swam through her head, images of them making love tantalizing her.

Lust-drunk fingers snatched at her clit's hood and pulled it up. Warm water hugged and surrounded the large, hard bean immediately. Shella began to rub a finger over her clit, even as her other hand continued to plumb the depths of her sex. Powerful bolts of pleasure erupted across her body with each touch. With each bolt of pleasure, a breathy moan escaped as a bubble.

Shella's thirst grew higher and higher, even as much as she tried to sate it. She wanted Lily, she needed her! She piled in caress after rough caress, trying to wring her body for every drop of pleasure she knew to be in it. Her moans were silenced by the sea, but still they flowed.

The fingers on her clit stroked up and down, circled around, snatched and clawed at the hard nub. Every act was a gift of euphoria, of utter sensual bliss. Pleasure flared up in her body again and again, swelling with each stroke. Shella's body was on fire with ecstasy.

The fire inside her raged so beautifully and powerfully that it was filling her up. Her thoughts were getting constricted by a numbing chain of bliss. Even Lily, her image in Shella's head tinted golden, was being threatened by Shella's pleasure.

Groaning and moaning, bubbles escaping from her lips and gills, Shella continued to play with herself. More touches, more bursts and cracks of pleasure. Fingers tweaking her clit, rotating it around and around. Fingers sliding against her velveteen walls, stroking her sex's petals. Her whole womanhood, ringing and raging with ecstasy as sensitive and tender flesh was subjected to her expert, wanting fingers.

The pleasure grew and grew inside Shella, claiming more and more until it popped. A white wave of pure bliss washed over Shella. A long, sweet moan escaped from her lips into the ocean. Her toes quivered and her spine trembled with heat. She kicked sand up from the bottom of the shallows as she spasmed in her orgasm. Ecstasy rang throughout her body, sweet yet controlling, slowly dying down.

Shella's gills fluttered in her orgasmic haze. Warm water flowed through her body, from neck-gills to rib-gills. It was like being traced with a feather along the inside of her thigh. The surface, only a few feet above, rippled and danced with light. And Lily was back, and Shella could be with her forever. Everything was beautiful.

She groggily, but happily, sat up. Water poured off her body, making the tropical day seem just ever-so-slightly cold. Sunlight ran across her dark brown body, water droplets on her breasts glowing golden. Her bosom heaved as she took in the warm air. Her body still twanged with carnal desires for Lily. Time, she told herself, Lily just needed time to recover.

As Shella looked up at the ship, trying to catch glimpses of Lily, something caught her eye. Wood in one section slowly fixed itself. Cracks sealed up like magic and holes shrunk until they disappeared. Boards straightened themselves to cover gaps.

Lily had that kind of power over ships. She could grow wooden planks, iron nails, even cloth as if they were plants. Her connection with ships ran deep. Shella would go as far as to say the ship was a part of Lily because, in reality, it was. The lettering on the side had been erased by storm and time, but the ship was called the Sea Lilith. It was Lily's full name, back when she was one with the ship.

Shella had first witnessed it long ago, in that strange world. She had seen Lily grow from an awkward doll with ship-like parts jutting out of her to the woman she was now. But Lily had existed heartily in that world. What about now?

Before her very eyes, a shorn mast began to grow upwards. Creaks accompanied it as it grew. It rose and rose and rose, slowing down slowly until it reached proper height. Without any booms or sails, it looked just like a branchless tree.

The mast creaked as if it was being tortured. It clapped like a thunderbolt, jerked to one side, and then abruptly toppled over the deck, snapped near the base. Railing crumpled underneath, and it smashed the deck like it was a blanket of sticks.

Shella paused for a moment before crying out, "Lily!" She bolted from the shallows and to the ship, her feet slapping against sand. The only way up was on the mast that had broken, and she scrabbled up it, clinging to it to avoid falling off. She stumbled and skipped across the jagged deck to the cabin. Lily hadn't bothered fixing the walls yet. She was curled up on the bed.

Lily was curled into a fetal position, eyes squeezed shut tightly and hugging her entire body. Her lips were pulled into a pained grimace. When Shella touched her shoulder, Lily flinched away.

"Ya done too much, Lily. I said get some sleep, and you gone ahead n' tried ta regrow th' ship," Shella said. "I don' wantcha ta hurt yerself jes' t' make a complete boat fer us t' sail away on, me lassie. I jes' wantcha t' be safe, happy, n' healthy."

Lily opened her eyes. They looked away guiltily. Shella gingerly touched Lily's shoulder. It flinched away, but not as painfully as it had done before.

"We 'ad a big ol' boat back then, di'int we?" Shella said. "'Twas beautiful n' everythin'. Ye made a palace floatin' on water. But ye don' need t' do that. We're in th' real world, 'n I'm happy jest t' have ya back. If'n ye want ta make this ship sea-worthy, that's all right, but take yer time and don't strain yerself!"

Lily's breathing was slow and forced. Lily didn't need to breathe, being what she was, but she did it all the same. Shella shook her head. "Anyways, I checked outside. There ain't nothin' out there. 'S water as far as the eye can see. We're alone 'ere. It'll be perfect fer ya t' rest an' recover," she said.

Shella got up to leave, walking towards the door to let Lily recover, but something nagged at her mind. Last thing she could recall, she was literally being dragged back to the Harpy by Captain Lash. She could still feel her despair even now. It had been so strong, like her blood had been replaced by tears. She had thought nothing had worked, and that Captain Lash would punish her for Shella's little bout of betrayal. And Captain Lash did punish her; Shella could remember brief points of pain and blurred attacks. But she could not recall for the life of her how she had gotten away. "Hey Lily! Howdja get me 'way from Captain Lash?" Shella asked, turning back to Lily.

Lily shrugged weakly. She held up a hand and pointed two fingers down. She made them walk along like legs, turned them and slashed with them like blades, and had them walk the other way.

"Ya literally walked out wi' me... tha' must've taken some effort from ya," Shella murmured. Something else tugged her mind. Something about having a drink with Captain Lash, weird given that woman's temperament, and talking about why Shella was on the Harpy. Her face paled as she recalled more.

"Ah, shit," Shella whispered. "Lily, ya might want ta hurry up on th' ship, 'cause I think ya just fucked over th' Harpy."

* * *

The bottle slipped out of Veradine's hand and clunked onto the floor. Her entire body felt blurry and thinking was a slog. She didn't let the crew have alcohol just to avoid them doing anything stupid while drunk, but she did have her own small stash. Well, had. If the crew opened her door and saw her laying belly-down, on her bed, just a drink away from passing out, so be it. It couldn't get much worse.

All she had been was a colossal bully, someone who used violence to keep people in line and make them do what she wanted them to do. Her amputated whip still twitched and ached constantly, a new pain to her body. The only problem now was that, without her command and without Shella, the Harpy had no worth to The Master. Hopefully, his wrath would be swift and painless.

The bottle rolled from one side of the room to the other, clinking against the wall, and rolled back again. It was the only way Veradine could tell the ship was swaying. She was too drunk to know which way was up, and she didn't know what time of day it was.

A rattling knock rapped against Veradine's door. "Whasisiz?" Veradine slurred.

"Captain," came Jenny Ivory's hollow voice. "It's me. There's, uh, something brewing and it wants you out here."

Veradine fell off her bed with a crash and staggered upright. She crashed against a wall for stability and then walked into the door. She put her shoulder against it. It opened, and she nearly fell outside.

Jenny stood outside obediently. Her waterlogged dress clung to her bones. Rain pattered against Veradine as she looked at Jenny with blurred vision. "Whassagoinon?" Veradine asked, leaning against the door frame.

Jenny recoiled, covering her lack-of-nose. "Have you been drinking? I thought you didn't-"

"Dun matter. Whassagoinon?" Veradine asked as she stumbled out of her cabin. She wasn't sure if she was wobbling or if the wind was particularly fierce. The sky was a dark, malevolent green and the crew was huddled on-deck, facing one side.

Veradine tracked the gaze of the crew to a spinning brackish waterspout. It roared unwaveringly, water rolling up it in endless bladed cycles.

"That's what's going on, Captain," Jenny said, pointing a finger at the water spout.

Veradine swam her way to the railing close to the waterspout to get a good look. Before she could control herself, she found her stomach revolting. She heaved dryly over the edge before flopping onto the railing. She struggled to right herself and made the mistake of putting her whip against the railing. Its severed tip burst into pain as it touched the surface. Veradine barked out a surprised yell and fell back. Undoubtedly the crew would laugh at her because of that.

The wind was roaring, a sound unceasing as it rushed past Veradine's ears. The noise burrowed its way into her skull. She could almost hear something in it. The cry of a wrathful monster, or perhaps the voice of the Devil.

"Captain Lasssshhhhh..." The wind said, "Captain Lassshhh!"

Veradine looked up blearily at the waterspout. Why was the weather calling her name? She had drunk too much. Or it could be...? No, wait, she hadn't drunk enough.

"Captain Lash!" The waterspout exploded, scattering bullet-sized raindrops across the ship. Replacing it was the form of the Master, Lord of the Damned, Ol' Saltbeard himself, Davy Jones.

He floated in the air, more than twenty feet tall. His skin was green and sickly, wrinkled and tough like tree bark. His stringy long hair was the white of the ocean in a storm, his eyes blacker than the abyss. His teeth were yellow rocks, jagged and mismatched. He wore a long black overcoat that descended into the sea, his chest bare. Water whipped and roared around him like vicious hounds at their master's heels.

Veradine's chest felt like it would explode from fear. She scrambled back, ignoring the pain of her whip. Panic cut her drunken stupor low. She needed to get away, get away but she didn't know how! She knew the crew felt it too; they would never say his name, and even now, they scrambled like chickens without knowing what to do.

"I gave you a simple task. One anybody could do, really. Keep Shella on your ship. Feed her the false hope that she could have her 'Lily' back while doing everything to make sure she was a willing prisoner of ours," Davy Jones said, his voice howling like a hurricane. "She was one woman. She wasn't strong or powerful or even intelligent. She was weaker than you, by far. And you let her slip away."

"I-I'm sorry! It wasn't me, Lily came back for her! It was all because of Lily!" Veradine screamed, her voice becoming hoarse.

"Excuses, excuses," Davy Jones spat, his head shaking. He slammed a barrel-sized fist onto the ship, snapping the wood. "You still failed. It was your stupidity that let Shella bring Lily back. It was your idiocy that let Lily steal Shella from us."

He leaned in close, bringing down his abyssal eyes to stare directly into Lash's eye. He chuffed a short, bitter laugh. "And when you failed, you let your crew run wild as you turned to drink?! That's hardly an escape. It'll never let you run from the past, Lash. You'll never escape from your mistakes."

Veradine curled up and covered her ears. She didn't want to hear, she didn't want to see, she didn't want to know... Memories rose back up in her mind. Memories of the lost. She only had the doll left. She was lost, damned, cursed.

A rifle-sized finger pulled her chin upwards. Her tears mingled with the rain. She tried to pull away but Davy Jones wouldn't let her. "You are such a weak, pitiful woman. You can't do anything right. Keeping someone safe, teaching them right from wrong. You failed that. The only thing you can do right is hurt people and kill them, remember?"

Veradine broke out into sobs, rocking back and forth. Didn't want to see, didn't want to hear, didn't want to know. It wasn't her fault, no, it was. It was every bit her fault, and she deserved to be like this. To be wrapped up in pain.

"But you have done one thing right, you little wretch. You've brought a lot of souls for me, Lash, more than some other ships. It has put me in a good mood. So, don't worry, you won't be destroyed," Davy Jones said, patting Veradine on the head. "Not yet."

Veradine looked up, her eye red and body cramped. She sniffled and remained mute.

Davy Jones stretched out one finger. "I'll give you one chance. Just one. Find Shella and recapture her."

Veradine coughed out one last fearful sob and asked, "How? We can't find her, it's the ocean!"

"Tut tut," Davy Jones muttered, shaking his head. "Do you still have that dagger that I gave Shella? The nice one with the bone handle and the gem in its hilt?"

Veradine nodded.

"Set it on a plank of wood in a body of water. It'll point to where she has been. I didn't want her without some method of finding her if a certain someone manage to lose her."

The wind picked back up, waves becoming swords of water as they began to spiral around Davy Jones. "Remember, I'm watching. If you fail this one last time, Hell will be a better alternative for you."

Water jutted around Davy Jones and formed a twisting, spitting spout. The dark column whirled and shrieked and narrowed, growing thinner and thinner until it was nothing, the ocean dying into calmness beneath and the sky lightening up as Ol' Saltbeard's dark presence passed.

Veradine groggily got to her feet and wiped the tears away from her face. She looked back at the huddled, terrified crew. "Whatcha lookin' at?" she snapped.

"You're the captain," Gwen volunteered from the back of the pile.

"And all it takes is Him to get you back in line?" Veradine shook her head. "Never mind. Jenny?"

"Yes, captain?" Jenny said.

"Where's Shella's dagger?"

"With the rest of our weapons."

"Get it." Veradine pointed a finger at the crowd of cursed women. "Get an empty barrel - watertight. Fill it with sea water. And find me a plank. Now!"

The crew of the Harpy rushed to do Veradine's bidding. Jenny ran below decks to the armoury while a set of women tied a barrel to a rope and lowered it overboard. It was nice to see everything in working order, Veradine found, but the sickening fear of Davy Jone's threat twisted her gut.

Within a few short minutes, a barrel full of briny seawater was set in front of Veradine. A plank was dropped into the sloshing waters. All that was left was Shella's Dagger, and Jenny climbed up from the hold with it in one hand, holding up the hem of her dress and muttering curses. She put the dagger in Veradine's hand and stepped back.

The dagger was a nameless, nasty affair, with a bone handle and a dull circular gem in its hilt, but its blade wavered back and forth. Old stains dotted its metal, but there was a certain cruelty emanating from it that reminded Veradine of her whip.

She set the dagger on the plank of wood, and let whatever magic was in it work. The dagger trembled, and then slowly the wood panel turned so that the blade was pointing directly away from the Harpy's current bearing. Veradine hissed. It was against the wind. This was going to take time, and she didn't know how much she had left.