Danielle's Dark & Dirty Dreams

Danielle's Dark & Dirty Dreams

Monday

"Have you never seen a naked woman chained to the mast of a ship before?" I shout to the sailors as the warm summer rain washes across the deck of the two masted sailing ship.

My moment of defiance causes a ripple of laughter before the bosun orders his men back to work. I'm left to my shameful thoughts and my undeniable arousal. How did the daughter of a king end up in this situation?

For over forty years there has been peace between my father's kingdom and our neighbours. The local merchants grew fat and rich from trading with the ships visiting our harbour. Our army grew fat and lazy from having to do nothing. Then things suddenly changed. An upstart warlord violently seized power in a nearby kingdom and promptly crowned himself king. Then he set about expanding his new realm. Our tiny kingdom was one of several coveted by the self appointed King Mathias. We were unprepared for the war which followed. Fortunately there were ancient treaties with our neighbours to provide for mutual defence. Since our neighbours were also threatened by Mathias, those treaties were honoured. My father lead his pitiful troops into battle alongside his allies.

The war was mercifully short and not particularly bloody. I don't think anybody really won. King Mathias won a small piece of territory from a neighbouring kingdom, but his army was heavily outnumbered and so his ambitions were curtailed ... at least for the time being. At sea it was another matter. Mathias's pirate friends blockaded our harbour causing much pain to the local merchants' wallets. A peaceful solution was quickly sought.

Our biggest loss was the death of my father. Not on the battlefield, but in the tavern afterwards where it is said that during the 'victory' celebrations he became so drunk that he took it into his head to give a demonstration of flying from the tavern's upstairs window. My elder half-brother, Ethelred, is now king. His first task was to remind me and my 20 year old brother, Francis, that our only value to his kingship are as instruments to secure alliances and peace. It was a cruel thing to say while we were still grieving for our father, but I've known for years that one day I would be married to some foreign prince to secure an alliance through marriage.

The peace treaty between King Mathias, Ethelred, and the pirate sea-lord seems to satisfy my brother's desire to use Francis and I as the instruments he spoke about. More than likely, he simply wants us out of the way, and the peace treaty provides him with a golden opportunity to be rid of us.

"King Mathias and I have reached an understanding which should ensure peace between us for the foreseeable future," announces Ethelred to Francis and I. "He and his pirate sea-lord will be arriving tomorrow to receive what I promised as our part of the bargain."

"What have you promised them?" asks Francis, never being the quickest thinker in our family.

"Why, you and your sister," laughs Ethelred. "The pair of you will be leaving here tomorrow. I suggest you go and make your preparations."

I ponder my fate. What sort of man is this King Mathias? And the pirate? The rumours about Mathias are dire, but my father told me that rumours started during wartime are rarely accurate. Nevertheless, I feel a twinge of nerves at the prospect of being alone with a man who was our enemy only a few weeks ago. If what I've heard about the two of them is correct then he and his pirate friend represent the bottom of the barrel when it comes to the human race.

The next morning Francis and I are summoned to the Great Hall. Ethelred is sat on his throne surrounded by many of our city's prominent citizens and an array of guards trying to look fearsome. Apparently King Mathias and his pirate have arrived and are waiting in the ante-chamber to be admitted into Ethelred's presence. They are finally summoned to the Great Hall and greeted with a fanfare of trumpets. Francis and I are made to wait on one side of the throne while Ethelred makes a pompous speech of welcome to his visitors. Mathias responds by belching and scratching his balls.

I go weak at the knees at the sight of King Mathias. The rumours about him must surely be false. He is a man in his late-twenties, so he must be about five years older than me. His bare chest and arms ripple with muscles, and his tiny leather kilt doesn't leave much to the imagination. He has the looks of a classic barbarian warrior. A good looking one at that. While he has left his weapons outside, his leather belt holds sheaths for an array of weapons. Fully armed he would be a one man army.

"Where's the fuck toy you promised me?" says Mathias in an accent which grates on my ears.

"Here," replies Ethelred pointing in the direction of Francis and I.

"Looks a bit scrawny, but I suppose it'll have to do."

"I am not scrawny," I shout out, angry at being referred to as a fuck toy.

"Silence, woman," snaps Ethelred.

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughs Mathias. "Does this green eyed beauty think she's the one you promised me? What a joke! Sorry, darling, but you are the wrong gender for my tastes. Now this young man here might show some promise once we build up his muscles."

"And what do you intend to do with my brother?" enquires Ethelred.

"You mean apart from make good use of his arse," laughs Mathias, "The oarsman in my personal galley are all former nobles of my vassal states. When I don't require him to please my cock, your brother will spend the rest of his miserable life chained to an oar. He'll be in good company though. The former king of my land is already used to his new life. Ha, ha ha!"

"I never agreed to be your vassal," replies Ethelred, belatedly realising that he's perhaps gone too far in agreeing to hand over Francis.

"Oh but you will be if you value your life," sneers Mathias. "Pay the tribute I demand each year and you can keep your little kingdom. Otherwise, you can join your brother."

"You can't do this, Ethelred!" cries Francis as two guards force him towards Mathias. "I'm your brother."

Unfortunately, as king, Ethelred has the authority to do anything he likes with his subjects. And for whatever reason, he's chosen to buy his kingdom's existence for a while longer by sacrificing his brother. I become genuinely fearful what whatever Ethelred has planned for me.

"We are done for now, Ethel," says Mathias, deliberately misspeaking his name. "I'll leave you to settle your debt with the captain here." Mathias marches Francis out of the room to the shocked mutterings of the gathered crowd.

"Silence!" snaps Ethelred, quickly restoring order once Mathias has left with my hapless brother.

The gathered crowd is unhappy but complies with Ethelred's order. The only person in the room who seems unaffected by the events which have just unfolded is the pirate lord who entered with Mathias.

"Captain Jack," says Ethelred turning his attention to the waiting man. "Or do we address you as One-eyed Jack? Isn't that the name you go by upon the high seas?"

"Either name will do, my lord," replies Captain Jack. "Do you have the gold which I've been promised?"

"Unfortunately wars are expensive and I've inherited a treasury which is somewhat depleted of gold," lies Ethelred.

"Your kingdom is reputed to have gold in abundance," growls Captain Jack. "Do you intend to cheat me of my payment? You might regret doing that when my ship continues to plunder every merchant ship trying to reach your harbour."

"I have no intention of cheating you, Jack," replies Ethelred. "I am just proposing an alternative method of payment. One which may interest you."

"Gold interests me. Anything else you give me will need to be converted into gold, so you will need to pay extra to cover my expenses."

"Fifty slaves; male and female, young, fit and healthy. They should cover the amount I owe in tribute," replies Ethelred. "I hear the markets in Puskin are offering top price for slaves at the moment."

"That is true. But fifty slaves only covers the amount I've been promised. What about my expenses in shipping these slaves to market. Nor does your offer allow for my time and trouble. I need something extra."

"Very well," smiles Ethelred, satisfied that his proposal hasn't been rejected out of hand. "To recompense you for your trouble, I give you my sister."

"I have no need of a wife," replies Jack. "The sea is my mistress. My ship is the only woman I'll ever love."

"There is no need to marry her. Fuck her to your heart's content and then sell her with the others."

"What kind of man are you that sells his brother and sister into slavery," growls Captain Jack. "I am no angel myself, and I've met men worse than me. But you sink lower than the worst of them."

"Mind your tongue, One-eyed Jack," snaps Ethelred. "Or you will be No-eyed Jack before long. Ha, ha, ha!"

"And you will be joining your brother behind an oar if you cross with me, my lord," replies Captain Jack calmly. "Where do I find these slaves that you speak of. I will inspect them before I agree to your terms."

"They are down by the dockside ready to board your ship," replies Ethelred. "Take my sister with you. I would hate for you to miss the next tide."

I would struggle and try to run away if for one moment I thought it would bring me freedom. But my chances of escape are zero. I meekly allow Captain Jack to lead me from the Great Hall. Our departure is made to the angry mutterings among the gathered crowd. Whether they are for my plight, or for the fifty men and women who have undoubtedly been rounded up in secret and stripped of their citizenship.

I feel humiliated as I follow Captain Jack. He's taken the precaution of tying a rope around my neck and he's leading me like animal. We reach his ship and I see the human misery and despair my brother has created. The fifty slaves are all chained in a coffle. All are as Ethelred described, young, fit and healthy. The youngest little more than eighteen and the oldest no more than thirty. I dread to think about their individual misfortunes that resulted in them being here.

"The palace guard who brought this lot said they were our cargo," reports a sailor to his captain. "I've inspected them. They're all clean and healthy. No diseases or deformities that I can see. Should fetch a good price in the south."

"Hmmph," replies Captain Jack. "Get them into the hold and make sure we have enough provisions to reach Puskin."

"What about this one?" asks the sailor, pointing to me.

"I'll take care of her," replies the captain, leading me on board his ship and into a small cabin in the stern.

"Hmmm. Well Emerald, you and I shall become better acquainted on our journey south. What becomes of you at the end largely depends on how well we get on. Any questions?"

"My name isn't Emerald. It's ..."

"Emerald is your name now," snaps the captain. "Now, I repeat. Any questions?"

"Why do they call you One-eyed Jack?" I ask, realising that the captain has two perfectly good eyes.

"Because when we are at sea I keep one eye on my ship and one eye on the beautiful woman I keep chained to the main mast."

"Is that what you intend to do to me?"

"I haven't decided. There are several delectable beauties in my hold who may want that privilege."

"You seriously contemplate keeping the daughter of a king chained naked to the ship's mast?"

"Naked?!? I didn't say anything about you being naked. But it's a nice thought. Are you sure you haven't done this sort of thing before?"

Oh shit! I've heard such tales before and my ever active mind has fantasised about being in that position, never dreaming that it might come true.

"You wouldn't dare," I reply.

So that is how I come to be in this position; naked and with my wrists shackled behind me around the mast. Captain Jack hasn't even allowed me to wear a loin cloth. My body is exposed to the lustful stares of the crew. Only the steady rain and the bosun's sharp tongue prevent the crew from lingering at the sight of my pert breasts and rock hard nipples. It's as well that the rain disguises the juices trickling from my cunt.

But Captain Jack isn't deterred by the rain or the bosun. More than once he has come over to where I am chained and run his hands over my weakly resisting body. Now I long for another feel of his hands between my legs. Time after time he has brought me to the ecstatic heights no woman should be made to show in public. Like some backstreet whore, my body has played to his tune until orgasm after orgasm has racked through me. But so far his cock has remained firmly inside his trousers. I just wish that for once he would claim my virginity as he is entitled to do. At last he seems ready to do so. Standing to the side of me he reaches down and places a warm firm item in my hand.

"Do you know what this is for?" comes the question.

"I feel the object carefully. It's a bar of soap!"

"Huh?"

"Stop daydreaming, Danielle. Finish your shower, or you'll be late for work!" says my flatmate Sally.

I groan in disappointment. Just as my fantasy was getting to the interesting stage I get interrupted. But Sally is right. I mustn't be late for work. So farewell Captain Jack. I hope we meet again. And soon.

Tuesday

"Is this better for you, wench?" asks the ship's captain, as he tears my bodice open, freeing my breasts from their tight prison.

I immediately regret complaining about my stained dress. The captain isn't the least bit interested in the state of my clothes, and I realise he is about to resolve my problem by simply ripping them from my body. I cringe at the closeness of his body. His strong manly smell from the sweat on his bare chest competes with the reek from those around me. Not that the smell around us seems to bother the captain as he kneads my breasts and pinches my nipples. I feel ashamed that his attentions are making my nipples as hard as iron.

One-eyed Jack is no stranger to me, nor are many of the crew of the Red Hawk. Captain Jack's a frequent patron of the inn where I work ... or rather, worked. I've a horrible feeling I'll never see the Banded Parrot Inn again. Nobody knows for certain how the inn acquired its name, since there are no parrots, banded or otherwise, native to my home country. The inn is more commonly known as the Dead Parrot.

Working for Groat at the Dead Parrot would never be any girl's first choice of employment. But he at least provided me with a home and work when I had neither. Ever since I turned eighteen, I've waited tables and served drinks at the Dead Parrot. Six years of service. The inn is always popular with sailors and dock workers who frequent the bustling harbour nearby. They aren't the most gentile of people, particularly towards the serving wenches. Being slapped, spanked, groped and fondled all go with the territory. I've lost count of the number of hand jobs and blow jobs I've given kneeling on the floor under one of the tables.

Groat left it up to me to decide whether I joined the whores who worked upstairs. They provide the inn's wealthier customers with more intimate services than I can provide under the tables in the public bar. I've been tempted at times when business is slow and the tips from waiting tables have been meagre. But I've stood my ground, waiting for my dashing hero who will sweep me off my feet and take me away to exotic lands. Now it looks like I'm off to some exotic land, but not in the style which I dreamed about.

For the last three days I've been held in this ship's hold with about fifty other prisoners. I and eight others were arrested on the orders of Prince Ethelred for the crime of witnessing the murder of his father by the prince's bodyguard. I don't know why some of the others are here, or why we have been moved onto this ship rather than being kept in the castle dungeon awaiting trial. I'm no stranger to discomfort, but sitting shackled to all these other people is demanding on both my muscles and my nostrils. The stench of the human misery locked in this hold is almost unbearable.

The man sat to my right, Harris, was drunk when we boarded. He's sober now, and in a very unhappy mood. Since he can't lash out at our captors, Harris is making life a misery for those chained next to him. The serving girls at the Parrot know him as 'Groper Harris'. He's run his hands over me a dozen or more times since we boarded this ship. Margaret has had to endure worse, although that's partly her own fault. She should have let Harris grope her. Now he thinks she's playing hard to get and he's determined to fuck her at every opportunity.

The captain is making an inspection of his cargo when I take the opportunity to complain about my dress. I know better than to complain about Harris as he will only take his revenge on me later. Still, my futile complaint about my dress must have some effect on the captain.

"This hold stinks," says the captain to the three sailors standing guard over us. "Get this lot on deck and clean them up. Then detail some of them to scrub their filth out of my ship's hold."

The sailors don't seem very enthusiastic about carrying out the captain's order, but they nevertheless do as they are told. Because of the cramped conditions in the hold, moving us all on deck is no easy task. We are all shackled to one long chain which has become tangled as some of the captives have tried to move about. It takes the best part of half an hour to get us all on deck.

I thought our conditions were bad in the hold, but they pale into insignificance compared to the plight of the poor woman chained to the mast. She is naked and exposed to the lustful stares of the sailors while they work. But I can't spare long worrying about her because our coffle of prisoners is lined up facing the ocean and we are told to strip. Many refuse, but I'm not one of them. After Harris brought up his last flagon of beer all over Margaret and I on our first day in the hold, my soiled clothes are a burden which I'm glad to be rid of for a while. The sailors don't force the unwilling prisoners and simply throw buckets of seawater over us, clothed or not.

"Unlock every fifth one in the coffle and send them into the hold to clean up their mess," orders Captain Jack to the sailors. "And watch them carefully! They're each worth more than your sorry hides in Puskin's slave markets."

It's the first time many of us realise that we aren't simply prisoners, but that we are about to be sold as slaves in one of the most notorious flesh markets in the world. It comes as a great shock to us all. A couple of women resort to wailing, while several men complain and vent their anger. I let the captain know my own feelings on the subject in no uncertain terms. Perhaps that wasn't the wisest thing to do in my current situation and Captain Jack takes particular notice of me.

"And bring the mouthy blond to my cabin," snaps the captain, unnecessarily pointing at me. Even the dimmest sailor must know whom the captain means.

I don't know whether to count myself as lucky or not. My position in the coffle means that I'm one of those the captain ordered to be sent into the hold to clean up. Harris ends up going in my place; something which he'll undoubtedly look for recompense later. I grab hold of my clothing and allow myself to be frogmarched naked into the captain's cabin at the stern of the ship. I hold my clothes to my chest so as to protect my modesty, although in reality it is only a token resistance. I'm made to wait under guard for ten minutes until the captain arrives.

"I've seen you in the Dead Parrot," comments Captain Jack when he enters his cabin. "Your name's Judy or Trudy or something like that."

"Ruby," I say.

"So what crime did you commit, Ruby? Stealing, I bet."

"No. I was a witness to a murder," I reply defiantly, knowing it won't make any difference to my fate.