Flotsam, Jetsam

One

My father is a fisherman, as was his father before him, and we make our living in these hills behind the ocean. Every morning since I was a young girl, I woke before daybreak to go searching for treasures among the driftwood that made its way to the shore overnight. Over the last 18 years of beachcombing, enough treasure washed up to fill my small room, but I was not ready for the sight that greeted me this morning.

"A ship!" came my cry, before I could stifle it. Indeed, beached some way up the shore not far from me laid a large wooden ship of a type I had never seen before. Her crew was scurrying along the sand, moving things about and tying things together. They were dressed strangely, their garments exotic and wonderful, and their pale faces and reddened arms seemed a world apart from my own light olive skin and jet-black hair.

I dove to the ground, seeking to hide from these strangers, but I heard a call from a man perched atop a high spire of the ship, and two men at the head of the group turned to look towards where I was hiding. I heard them speak in a language I had never encountered, but they soon switched to a heavily accented version of a trader's tongue, and I realized I could understand them!

"Ahoy! You there! We are traders, looking for a port!" the lead one called. His accent was strange, mellifluous, molding the rough trader's tongue with his lilting cadence. "We mean you no harm! Is there a town near here?"

I was caught. I stood slowly, brushed the dirt off of my pants, and said "Indeed! My father and I live just over the ridge, and the village is but a short walk from here." The man's expressive eyes lit up, and he bounded towards me, as the dour second man began to follow in his steps. "Wonderful! Could you show us the way? We have come far, and bear marvels from across the sea."

His enthusiasm was infectious, and I smiled at him. "Of course, noble sailor. Come, meet my father, and then I will show you all."

Two

As we walked towards my house, the shorter man began to grumble in that odd, flowery foreign tongue, only to be rebuked by the tall Captain. After a mile of walking, I turned and asked, "I'm sorry...is there something wrong?"

The Captain laughed. "My first mate here thinks you are leading us into a trap!" His eyes danced, and I laughed with the humor in them. "Do I really look that threatening?" I asked, batting my eyes at him. What was wrong with me? I did not know these men, and sailors had a rough reputation, but the Captain's manor put me at ease instantly, and I felt I could trust him implicitly. "Do not mock me, woman," said the Mate, and he walked forward to shove roughly past me. To my surprise, however, instead of shouldering me aside, he bounced off my arm and fell spluttering to the dust.

The Captain roared with laughter. "Beware these country girls, Mate! I've heard tales of their stalwart nature. Perhaps you've become soft during these months at sea." I tried to keep a grin from my face, but the sight of the serious-looking Ship's Mate lying on the ground forced a smile onto my lips.

"I said, don't mock me!" he roared. Clambering up, he took my shirt in his fists and attempted to shake me. Shocked, I screamed, and brought my hands up against his breastplate -- and was again astonished as he flew backwards several feet and landed again, unceremoniously sprawled in the dust of the road!

The Captain's chuckles trailed off as he looked wonderingly at me. I had no idea what was going on! The Mate was short -- shorter than me! -- but of a stocky build and a strong seaman's frame. How had I thrown him several feet in the air! I rushed over, but stopped halfway, indecisive. "Are -- are you okay?" I asked, my voice shaking slightly.

The Captain put his arm reassuringly on my shoulder. "Mate Silva has seen far rougher treatment than that, lass. His constitution is strong." He sounded amused, but he looked sidelong at me as he spoke.

Mate Silva struggled to his feet, slower this time. Wonderingly, he touched his breastplate, and I saw fear in his eyes. "She's a witch!"

The Captain laughed once, derisively. "Come now, Silva. She's not a witch. She simply caught you unawares."

"No, Captain, see my chest plate!" he cried. Looking closely, I did indeed see two small indentations, where my palms had hit his chest to push him back. I shook my head, slowly. This made no sense? How could I put dents in solid metal?

The Mate took a step back, then seemed to rally. "You've ensorcled the Captain, witch! But you won't be having the best of me," he yelled, then drew his sword.

"Mate, stop --", called the Captain, then stepped back as the Mate drew his sword and slashed at my upraised arm.

"STOP!" I ducked my head, my hand reaching out in reflex to meet the blade. As the sword slapped my hand, my fingers wrapped reflexively around the blade. To my surprise, I felt no pain -- and then felt the metal of the sword give way to the strength of my fingers!

"...wha? Is this? A child's toy?" I babbled, wonderingly. As my fingers gripped the blade of the sword, it bent and warped as if made of paper in my touch. The Mate yowled as the grip was wrenched from his hands, and only then did I realized that I had wrested the sword from him by the blade, with what felt to me like no effort at all. .

The Captain came forward to inspect the blade. He tested the edge, blunted where my hands had crushed the metal, and attempted in vain to bend the blade any further. He snorted, then turned politely to face me. "My dear, this is the most extraordinary thing I've seen in all my travels. Might I test your strength myself?"

I didn't know what to say, but the Captain had raised his palm towards me expectantly, so I placed my palm against his. His hand was warm and rough against mine, and I saw the muscles of his arms grow taut. "What shall I do?" I asked, confused about the purpose of this test.

The Captain grunted, and I realized that he was already attempting to force my hand back towards me. I felt him struggle, but it seemed laughably weak. I was torn between allowing him to push me back to save his dignity and pushing against him to prove my own capabilities. I settled for the latter, and his boots scraped against the ground as I forced him back. His feet shot out from under him, and I moved my palm underneath him to catch him as he fell. I expected his weight to overbalance me, but he seemed feather-light in my outstretched arm, and he smiled as he looked up at me.

"Perhaps you have bewitched me after all, young lady." He lay there, supported only by my outstretched hand, as I stared into his dark eyes. I stared, and to my surprise, I bent to kiss him. He returned the kiss, and I felt the warmth of his lips; then, the exotic taste of his tongue. I closed my eyes -- and then reopened them as I felt a coldness at my throat.

"Say goodbye, witch," rasped the Mate. His arm was across my neck, and a gruesome knife lay against the side of my throat, ready to spill my blood. "Whatever strange lark you may be, cold steel will end your games."

Shocked by the cold touch, I flinched, my arm flying back to impact the Mate's chest. His breastplate saved his life, buckling instantly as my elbow flew into it. The straps broke, and the Mate sailed back again, this time clutching his chest and breathing in short gasps. The mangled breastplate clanged to the ground, and I picked it up, staring in awe as I crushed the mangled metal in my hands.

"Demon!" the Mate replied, staggering to his feet and hobbling back over the hill towards his ship. "You've bewitched the Captain and bested me, but you won't have my crew! I defy you!" His gait steadied after a few steps, but he was still limping badly as he hurried away towards the coast.

Three

The Captain had dropped to the ground in earnest as I had struck the Mate, and he began to clamber up, struggling slightly under the weight of his armor. I raised a hand to help him up, and he took my hand in his warm grasp, smiling again as I lifted him easily. "Would it be such a bad thing", he asked, "to be bewitched by one as beautiful as you?" he asked, smiling like a sun into my eyes.

I started, about to protest that I was not a witch. I realized I was biting my lip, and as I looked up into his beautiful face, I found I was unable to form any words at all.

"A loss for words, oh? My lass, it's quite obvious that you're completely safe with me. Simply say what is on your mind."

Before I could stop myself, I confessed what I had been thinking. "I was wondering," I said, "if your armor came off as easily as his."

The Captain laughed again. "Indeed, easier, as you will have my willing assistance," he chuckled, then drew me closer for a kiss. My lips touched his, and I began fumbling with the straps to remove his armor with more dignity than I had used with the Mate. As I fumbled, he bent and began to kiss my neck, and my shoulders, where my shirt had parted. I gasped, and my suddenly desperate hands abandoned the straps and simply tore through the metal of the breastplate, freeing his fit sailor's body. He gasped, but I had managed to avoid hurting him with the move. He managed to free my shirt from its clasps, and my pants. I managed to unbuckle his pants -- I realized that I should leave the poor man at least a modicum of clothing, and we lay together in the soft grass near the path.

He moved his head between my legs and began to lick my thighs. Oh, God, I had never wanted anyone so badly. His warm tongue slid upwards and then towards the warmth of my sex, and I moaned softly as he licked and caressed passionately. His hands wandered towards my ass, and I wrapped my fingers in his hair, long and blonde, so different from mine. I felt him grip my ass, and mischievously I flexed the muscles of my legs and ass, as he marveled that he could not make a dent in the muscles which so completely overpowered him. I pulled his head downward again, and he resumed the action of his tongue. I moaned, and tightened my grip. I saw his eyes flick towards mine, and saw for the first time a touch of fear as he felt the strength of my hands overpower him so easily.

I released him, and he pulled away for a moment. "Fear not, my lady", he said. "I would not disappoint one so beautiful."

I giggled, pulling him up easily towards me. "Oh, my Captain, you had already convinced me of your silver tongue. Maybe it is time to move on to...other enjoyments?"

We kissed, and I laid back and guided him into me. Oh, God, he felt so good. I had been vaguely worried -- of course I had been worried -- but his tongue had left me wet and responsive, and he slid slowly into me. He was wonderful and hot inside me, moving at a gentle pace. His breath came hot upon my neck, and I moved with him, encouraged his thrusts. We kissed as we moved, more urgently now, and I gradually increased my rhythm underneath him, coming up to meet each thrust with my own. I could feel him, warm inside me, and I urged him deeper. I moved my hands to his ass, encouraging him to thrust harder and harder until I realized his breathing had become labored, and he was straining mightily inside me.

"Are you okay?", I asked, slackening a bit. He was flushed, and he attempted valiantly to keep the rhythm of his penis steadily against my tightness. "I am..finding this pace a bit much," he admitted, as sweat dripped from his forehead.

I smiled and took pity upon him. With one hand on his ass, I pulled him deep inside me, then quickly took the top position. He beamed, but his eyes widened as I resumed my original pace, feeling me push insistently against him. My powerful hips overcame his feeble thrusts, and eventually he concentrated on pleasing my breasts and feeling my shoulders and ass as I rode him more and more forcefully.

God, I was close. I was so close. I felt the heat of my orgasm build inside me, and I sped up, grinding him between me and the soft grass. I looked up and again found fear and a bit of panic in his eyes. I kissed the space between his worried brows and continued, my heat building inside me. His hands had abandoned my breasts to push against my hips, to try to cushion the crushing power of my hips, but I was far beyond the ability to feel his feeble struggles. His penis struggled inside my powerful vagina, hot and wet and unimaginably strong around him.

My orgasm came, powerfully, violently. All rhythm was abandoned, and I simply crushed him underneath my powerful hips as my moans turned to a muffled yell. Overwhelmed by my body, his penis yielded its own orgasm, his seed ground out of him by the force of my orgasm around him. He also screamed his desperate finish, in relief and absolute pleasure, and I felt him spasm and slacken in my arms.

In my sudden clarity, I was afraid that I had hurt him, but he smiled as he lay beneath me, completely spent. "Fear not, my dear," he said, gasping for breath, still clutching my hip in the remnants of his desperate struggle. "I am...quite well, actually."

I laughed, in relief and satisfaction. "Quite well? Is that all? Perhaps next time I'll try a bit harder."

He chuckled himself, and only then did I truly accept that he was uninjured. "I cannot decide which frightens me more -- the idea that there will be a next time, or the idea that there might not. In any case, I believe my Mate has raised anchor and has my ship halfway back home without me by now."

I kissed him gently. No, he wouldn't be going back. I keep all the treasures that wash up from the sea.