L.A. Pirates' Party: tease a Mast

I inserted it while you were strutting in the mirror with your rapier, and I was groaning but you didn't notice...

on the way, I thought you would take advantage of it but you talked the whole time following your mansplaining...

But you look at me so little, you never notice anything...

I wonder what I should do to punish you..."

As my wife spoke without looking at me and moved her hips to arouse me, she would slowly unfasten the buckle of her tiny shoes. Whole minutes passed before she took off her right shoe, and I stared longingly at her calves and emerald; then she took an even longer time to remove her left shoe. She stood barefoot, and I contemplated her sweet slender feet.

Finally, she chose an object to pick up from the chest, then turned to me. I hoped to see her glistening pussy, but instead, she had covered her crotch with my wide-brimmed admiral's hair and was fiddling with the long ostrich feather, stroking her bare shoulders over the thin lace blouse.

My wife sighed and looked up. She stood still for a moment: in the general silence, I distinctly heard the rain beating loudly against the windows, it sounded like a storm at sea.

Susan chuckled and said to herself, "What do we have here, under the Deck of the Corsair Vessel? We have two things: both the Main Mast and a full Mast of mine... I know, right? This hard cock is mine, all mine!

I nodded, "it's all yours".

She smiled happily.

"Look how soft this feather is, and how long it is," she said softly, mimicking a slow handjob, letting the fingers of her right-hand dance along the feather, while with her left hand she held up the wide hat to hide her pussy from my eager eyes. "What would you say if I took this long... feather in my mouth, Mr. Duke?"

"Be my guest..." said I, my mouth too wide. I was a prisoner and should have been more cautious, or more romantic.

The smile disappeared from Susan's sweet lips. Her voice was now angry.

"Ah, you pose as a fancy snob now?

Do you think you are a great lover?

A Don Juan? Casanova?

And what would you say if I told you that I am not at all satisfied with your hasty selfishness?

What would you say if I... if I severed this feather cleanly, pulling it away from where it is attached?"

I was truly frightened by this reaction of his.

Just then, before my wife could carry out her threat to break the feather (or something else) in two, we both heard the rumbling of thunder.

Susan had always been afraid of lightning and in an instant threw her arms around my neck to hug me tightly. Two seconds later, we saw lightning illuminate the window. The lightning must have been so close.

Susan tried to compose herself. Her lips were tight in a grimace.

I had known her for many years, and I could see that she was deeply conflicted. between the desire for protection, and the anger caused by frustration.

I tried to appease her, "I beg your forgiveness...my love..."

My words triggered her anger. "You are always too sweet with words, but I want to feel quite another sweetness from your mouth!

But I see that you cannot understand my needs unless you first experience how important it is to wait. How would you like it if I stroked that cock of yours, with the feather, I just plucked from your hat?"

Susan began rubbing the feather on my cock: first over the head, then underneath, from the frenulum. The erection immediately returned to its highest levels, "Please, Susanna...touch me..."

"Ah, no, my dear Duke.

I want to bring you to full arousal.

But I demand, that before you cum, you warn me, so we stop in time.

That way you will show me that I can trust you, with deeds and not words."

The long ostrich feather continued to caress my poor chained prisoner's cock, running down the shaft. The Duchess moved her wrist and the feather gently caressed my balls, exposed by the forced open position of my legs. Whoever had built that booth with that huge Mast knew how to torture a poor man.

Smiling Susan interrupted the contact, moving the feather in midair. I reacted by trying to arch my back, but the chains were too short: I couldn't reach the feather with my cock, which remained thumping uselessly against the air.

My frustration was growing more and more every minute. But at the same time, I also felt a different emotion rising: almost like the pleasure of being teased.

With a mocking smile, Susan spread her thighs and obscenely showed me her pussy, which I, of all people, had shaved a few hours earlier. In the hotel bathroom, looking at and touching my wife's pussy seemed to me the easiest thing in the world: and I had taken it for granted.

Now, however, to be able to look at and even lick that pussy, I would have done anything.

Susan slid the long feather under her own buttocks and made it appear between her thighs. She moved it back and forth as if to simulate coitus with a ghost. "Would you like to be down here, with your cock instead of this long feather, Mr. Duke?" and she giggled.

"Yes, yes, please release me and make me come!" I grunted as I tried to untangle at least my arms.

"No-no, you must resist. Uh, honey, if you knew how exciting it is to see you contract your biceps and shoulder muscles-you look like a Samson chained to the column! (chuckled)

I'm all wet... it's really true what they say, there's no more effective aphrodisiac than to see your man squirm...

My pussy is as wet as a sponge...let's see if the feather soaks in...

What would you say, if now that I wet the feather with my pussy, I stroked your frenulum again?

Would that make you gasp?

Oh, I see your friend, down here, is already quivering, just hearing about it...tell him to calm down, otherwise, he might explode..."

Susan rubbed the wet feather against the skin of the frenulum again. I contracted my biceps and chest muscles, but there was no way to release them. Susan dropped the long feather on the floor and wrapped one hand around my balls.

"If you promise not to cum, I'll let you in for one, single, very slow stroke. Do you have enough stamina to hold out?"

"I promise."

"Very well."

Susan began caressing me first on my balls and then along the shaft. It wasn't really a handjob, it was caressing, but I was strapped to the mast and she was wearing an unbuttoned camisole and a damask mask, and whatever she did would turn me on.

At that point, she turned toward the door, unbuttoned her blouse slowly, then tightened the two side corners and tied a quick knot behind her back. That way she still had her shirt on, but her breasts were bare and exposed. Only then did she turn, "Do you want me to take off the damask mask?"

"I just want you to keep teasing me, never interrupting."

"I know what it is that you want, dear Duke. You want...me...to kneel...before...your cock..."

And as she said those words, she knelt down and brought her lips closer to my head.

The lips were getting closer, closer every second...on the skin of my cock I could feel the heat of her breath. Susan opened her mouth, but instead of kissing or licking it, she breathed on it.

I thought I was going to faint. Never had my wife done such a sexy thing as avoiding taking my cock in her mouth. I felt pleasure flooding my cock and feared I was going to cum at any moment-I wanted to say something very clever, but I just said, "Be careful," and she immediately retreated.

On her face, I read smugness and excitement. She was evidently very pleased with the resistance I was showing, and she realized that I would not be able to resist much longer.

She climbed on top of me. I don't know how she did it: I was too distracted by the kisses of her mouth, by the lips that left me and took me back, by the tongue that milled relentlessly. I don't know how, she got on my cock, and her labia were so wet that the head went right in.

She bent her knees and the pussy swallowed my whole cock in one motion. I could feel under the shaft, the metal studs of her anal plug: from the outside, it was not visible, but it was not smooth, it had rough irregularities.

Before he could cum, she slid off, pushing the moisturizing pussy away from his frustrated cock.

With her arms, she held on to ropes that were high above his head-she hadn't even seen them. Surely she had found support for her bare feet because she was moving her knees very securely.

Susan stared into his eyes. "You think I wear this anal emerald, to give you pleasure? No, dear Duke. It gives pleasure to me. You often leave me unsatisfied, and instead this plug -- aah! It allows me to enjoy the rare sensation of being filled. It gives me a sense of fullness, it gives me energy.

And every time something enters my pussy -- a finger of mine, or your tongue on the carriage, or your erect Mast -- I feel the silver and emerald rub against the inner walls of my pussy.

One more plunge? Can you hold on?"

Susan bit her lower lip. From how wet her pussy was, I could tell she was genuinely very excited: about the chains, the situation, the emerald, and a thousand other things I still didn't understand.

She bent her knees and impaled herself on my cock again, straight as the Main Mast. A little cry escaped her mouth: pain mixed with pleasure. Then she drew back again. My heart was pounding.

Under the damask mask, she stared at me with icy eyes, "NOT. COME. I want you to RESIST. You MUST. Resist."

My wife impaled herself again, with two, three, four five deep consecutive strokes. I don't know how I held on. Just as I felt I was about to collapse she drew back.

She put a nipple in my face, slamming it on my nose. She gasped.

"Forget...my...pussy...and concentrate...on the nipple...do to this nipple whatever you would do to my clit."

I sucked, licked, nibbled. I pulled it with both cheeks, flicked it with my tongue like a Lance, and rubbed it with my nose.

In an indifferent voice, she said, "I want you to continue for at least an hour--on your nipples. I'm comfortable up here, and you can't go anywhere--and only I have the key to free you."

Nipples. Plural. Message received: devote twice as much time to each nipple. Key. Copy that: message received. Licking the key, kissing it, admiring it.

She groaned and rolled her eyes, straining in turn to resist the temptation to impale her wet pussy on my very hard cock for the last time.

How long would we be left, I chained and her hanging above me? Maybe minutes, maybe hours, I don't know. We were both in blissful ecstasy.

.

Chapter 8. Meet her Cattle Whip.

.

We both heard a harsh voice.

"Why, what a beautiful emerald green in plain sight!"

I opened my eyes: it was she-captain Jackie Swallow, who had quietly entered the door, along with two men: the dancing British officer, and the muscular, patch-eyed Jamaican pirate.

My wife screamed in embarrassment and jumped on the floor, trying to retrieve at least the skirt she had dropped on the floor. But Swallow prevented it.

"Stop, Susanna. Hold still. Look, boys, what a lovely emerald she is wearing this guest of mine, Duchess Susanna. I had ordered her to chain her husband, but how long does it take to shackle a prisoner, I say? Right, boys?

"Of course, madam! You are right, madam!" said two baritone voices.

I was motionless as if chilled: I had already tried to free myself but it was impossible. My wife was on the floor, on all fours, motionless. In that position, she was showing the emerald to the people in the doorway, and perhaps also her glistening pussy.

Jackie took the hilt of my silver rapier and unsheathed it with a graceful movement. Then she stepped forward, knocking hard on the wide heels of her musketeer boots. The she-Captain circled my wife, who was chilled in the four-legged position. Jackie squatted down and brought his own eyes closer to hers: she stared at her intently. From my position, I could see nothing but her magnificent buttocks, barely contained inside her leggings.

I heard whispered words very quietly, but I did not understand what they were saying to each other. Then I heard the sound of a spit. Jackie stood up quick as a fury, with my wife's saliva dripping from her cheek.

Angry, she placed the sole of a boot on my wife's back, fiddling with the tip of the foil over one of her bare buttocks, and said, "Duchess Susanna has deeply disappointed me. I asked her if she begged for my mercy, and she said she didn't need it.

And she spat in my face.

I don't know what the rules of good manners are in Maracaibo, dear Mr. Duke, but spitting in the face of the lady of the manor is certainly a serious offense, here."

I tried my best: "PARLEY!"

Jackie smiled wickedly. "The 'Parley' would grant you the right to negotiate if you were a pirate. But you are not a pirate, Admiral Lucas...you are a horrible and loyal servant of the Monarchy, and you have no right to use the 'Parley', here, on my Vessel."

Then she turned her back on me. Nonchalantly, Jackie said, "Our Great Game has just begun, Duke. Now the real interrogation begins. But since your wife doesn't know anything, I don't need her in this booth."

She snapped her fingers, to summon the two men who were near the door. "You two: get the duchess!"

"Nooo!"

"Lift her by the arms and legs. I don't want her walking to get those pretty feet dirty -- for now. Take her into the great hall--and undress her. Take off her bolero and camisole. I want everyone to see her naked. Completely exposed.

This Duchess invited into my house, spit in my face -- pretty scandalous, I know!

I hereby command that you get her drunk on Rum. She will be free to drink as many glasses as she wishes ... optionally ... but (smirked) it is mandatory that she swallow at least all the Rum contained in an entire bottle. Not optionally. Use your strength, use your hands, and use your saber. Now, the Duchess has become a Prey, you know how the Tortuga proverb says, 'No Prey, No Pay.' This is my place, I make the rules.'

My wife screamed and cried as she wiggled in the grasp of those two huge servants. She could not express complete sentences, between tears and wailing.

The only clear word was "Friend!" perhaps in the phrase "you are my best friend!"

Jackie signaled the two men to stop. "Friend, you say? Yes, of course, we were friends once the two of us. You saved my life and I haven't forgotten that, Susanna.

Listen to me, Mr. Westington, Mr. De La Fuente, listen well to my orders: this woman saved my life once.

Therefore, in her case, handle it with care. No kiss, no finger, no holes. No acts of sex, unless ... unless she explicitly asks you (begging, pleading). It may be that a few glasses of Rum can loosen her frigid bore-bride tongue.

And no blood.

I want you to still consider her a Prey, but a special prey, with special treatment.

The entire bottle of Rum, however, remains mandatory required. It's been since my husband died that my dearest friend has been bothering me with prudish sermons about sobriety and morality, but tonight ... tonight I want to see her drunk. Muahahaha!"

And with a wicked laugh, Swallow took two steps in the direction of the cabin door, leaving me alone, chained, shivering in the cold of that frosty room.

But after two steps she came back. She was unbuttoning her chemise.

"You don't deserve this sight, Admiral Lucas, but I know you like my big nipples -- here they are!"

She spread her shirt with a snap, jerking her perfect tits before my eyes. The two nipples were pierced and supported by two large gold rings, similar to the ones she wore on her earlobe. It read a two-part engraving, "I. Swallow" and "All. Always."

I would have liked to note that the use of "I" instead of "J" was permissible only using Latin, but the criminal light in her eyes dissuaded me from uttering silly words.

"My eyes are up here," teased She-Captain.

"Aye Aye, Capitain..."

"Be very careful about the words you say, Admiral, and remember the instructions you received on the parchment." Jackie winked at me, or was it just my impression? I decided it was best to stay in character: and maybe the dick would go limp again, sooner or later.

"Watch your mouth, kid, or you'll find yourself respawning at home! Do you think I'm too old to show my bare tits, Admiral?"

"No... I think you are gorgeous."

"Kind words, but that will not be enough to get you released. But I see you are sincere--there are two erect Masts in this booth now!" and she grinned delightedly.

"What would you say, Admiral, if I showed you my pussy? Would you be even more... eager?"

Jackie grabbed a knife and plunged the blade into the fabric of her leggings. Two vertical cuts and shreds of fabric fell to her hips, exposing her bald pussy above her tall boots. Her legs were perfectly shaved, smooth as an elephant's tusk.

"Oh, I know what you Spanish fleet officers think-you think pirates are all dirty and ragged. And hairy. But a native shaman from an island near Tortuga initiated me into this particular body care... Since she taught me, I too have adopted this practice from the indigenous women of the Caribbean. I have in my Quarter a native maidservant who shaved me all over. Captain Hook used to get his chin shaved by Mr. Smee, and I get my pussy and also my rosebud shaved by a native girl."

With her fingers, Jackie stroked the outer walls of her pussy: her clit protruded from the hood, pointing toward him. Reciprocally, my cock protruded toward her. A drop of precum appeared at the tip of the chapel.

Jackie laughed. "Oh, by a thousand thunderbolts! I see! A drop announces a furious storm, hehe! I must compliment Her Majesty's fleet: you have an enviable erection. But I have many other things to do, people to meet, and places to go.

Meanwhile, time goes by... I wonder how many men will have already fucked your wife, at her kind request, while you are shackled to this Mast!" Jackie burst into thunderous laughter.

"You stand here motionless, while she dances naked along with charming hard-dicked Commodores, or begs for a glass of rum kneeling in front of a drunken pirate she'd never seen before...

naked, of course, because I ordered it...

Are you sure she will remain faithful to you? Or, repressed after so many years of marital boredom, will she take the opportunity to get drunk with all available booze, and get fucked front and back, like a slut?

Maybe by two men at the same time! One chick, two holes, two cocks!

I've got a good feeling about this, ha!" and she laughed eagerly.

Jackie, her nipples erect and her clit exposed, brought the bottle of rum closer to her mouth. She took a large sip, but without swallowing. With a step, she approached me (but I could tell she was being careful not to rub her tummy against my cock), then leaning forward she rubbed her piercings against my bare chest.

While I was reveling in the touch of those two golden rings, Jackie craned her neck up and spit all the rum into my face.

Gasp! The liquid had entered my nostrils. The smell was nauseating, but the humiliation had increased my erection more: my cock was shaking with tension.

"One spit against another spit. Now we're even.

You are boring, Lucas. She deserves more.

You have made her miserable.

Have you ever wondered if when you enjoy it, she is only pretending to feed your pride? Have you ever wondered if you eat her pussy long enough to arouse her, or do you just stroke and then cum?

Of course, she has never allowed you to experiment anal, but perhaps she wished you to insist--maybe tonight, drunk, she will find some coxswain willing to be rougher for her...

Oh! But I see these words make you even more aroused! Body of a thousand whales! I'd better leave before my words make you cum on my floor of precious inlaid wood! Muahahaha!"