Lady of Flanders 02: Vessel of Cum

Lady of Flanders, a vessel of cum

Remember in part 1, Aleid's vessel was confiscated by a French privateer, and her body confiscated by the crew.

Rolling over, she saw the Captain standing in the door, his sword exposed slick and hard, gobbets of his semen stretching from its tip, the member bouncing as he laughed at her predicament.

The men roared their approval. Hands grasped her under her arms, lifted her, dragged her from the Captain's cabin across the deck. She was ungently laid face-down over a capstan, large as a wooden barrel but fastened to the deck, a rod running through it designed for men to grab and turn.

Her arms were forced over her head, hands tied with a bit of rope wound around the capstan bar. Her dress was then pulled nearly over her head, her backside bare to the sun.

Her reddened cunt and bottom were still wet with the Captains semen, which continued to drip from her slot and run down her legs. She felt someone unlacing her boots, Her boots! The were pulled free in turn, leaving her legs and feet completely bare. This felt more of a violation than her spread cunt.

The wood pressed cruelly into her breast as she lay there, helpless to stand or even rise or turn.

The bosun spoke in French, offering her to any man with a silver coin. That was all the men it seemed, each digging in pouches and pockets to produce the fee. The bosun collected all into his own pouch, then lined the men to take her in turn.

With rising alarm she struggled against the rope, thrashing against the capstan, strong bared legs pushing and struggling to no effect except to inflame the watching men.

She swore at them in Flemish, words she'd learned from her lover Sorgen during their rough play. The crew clearly knew no Flemish but her meaning was clear. The crew roared with laughter.

The first to take her, had a small cock it seemed. Grabbing her hips and positioning himself behind her, he turned to the onlooking crowd and grinned. But barely begun and suddenly limp, his bit of seed was spent on her buttocks. The men laughed and the bosun pushed him roughly to the deck, shriveled and slack. He lay there, grinning up at his crewmates. She barely knew he had been inside her.

The next man was more sure, more in need. His member was thick and short. He laid himself across her, crushing her ribs into the wooden capstan dome. His breath expelled on her neck.

He smelled of sweat and salt as all sailors do, not unpleasant in other circumstances. Broad barrel chest and muscle-banded arms held her immobile as his wide cock thrust at her pussy and spread her cunt lips. It took an effort to force it inside her, which he easily did as his member was straining and full.

Entering, expanding her vulva then releasing it to contract when he pulled back, she grunted at each of his strokes, breath labored under his weight. His breathing was steady, as fucking her was barely any effort for him. Breath smelled vaguely of port and grog.

Slick with the Captain's cum and her own juice, her cunt quickly became sensitive. Her legs began trembling, her toes curling at the increasing sensation. She struggled to suppress her orgasm, unwilling to release her self to his brutal insistence.

She succeeded until he ejected a sudden spurt. As his semen jetted hot inside her, her legs contorted, lifted off the deck, bending back and jutting skyward, her spasms reflected in her feet which curled and uncurled. Jerking spasmodically, her unwanted release matched his pulse for pulse.

"Mijn God!" burst from her lips unbidden.

The men cheered as he levered himself up and staggered off, clearly pleased with the sexual release and the crowd's approval, cock wet and still proud.

Another man quickly took his place, stepped between her still-twitching legs, dropped his breeches and entered her without delay. She was so slick and open, he penetrated her body without resistance.

Her orgasm was not yet complete from the previous violation, and his intrusion prolonged her convulsions.

He took his time, her cunt quivering with each stroke, exciting him to greater effort. She gasped with each breath, expelling it in a sort of moan.

"Mmmmmah, mmmmaaahh! Ohhhh. Ohhh! Ahhhh! Ahhhgh! Gaaah! G-g-god!!"

Her voicings excited him to his orgasm. He pored out his lust and semen, drenching her insides and overloading her senses. She ceased to feel anything but her sex and his cock, reeling from the pneumatic pumping.

And so it went for some time without pause. At every second or third fucking, some expending themselves in her cunt, some in her asshole, she would feel her orgasm build, then screamed as a man came inside her, her legs spread, her feet clenching.

They barely left her a moment between, anxious to use her as container for their lust and cum. Semen streamed from her body continuously, along with her cries of release. Her perception of the world was reduced to the brutal capstan she was bound against, her over-stimulated sex and the weight of the man currently bucking and thrusting inside her.

One limber bearded man braced himself against the capstan, hefted her at the waist with one arm, then thrust his hand under her body, into her dress. Grabbing at her tits, he kneaded and pulled at her nipples as he thrust.

He fucked first in her ass, then her cunt, then her ass again. The cruel mauling of her breast somehow fueled his lust and hers, and she came with a sudden liquid gush that washed gouts of semen from her body, the accumulation of a dozen men, leaving her whimpering like a women who'd lost her wits.

The man quickly replaced the expelled semen with his own, first in her cunt and then several strokes later, he delivered another gush into her guts. The assembled men gave a sustained cheer as he stood, his member proud and wet, raising his arms like the winner of some contest.

The next man, perhaps a Spaniard with dark hair and complexion, turned around, sat on the deck between her legs, raised his chin and lapped at her greedily. His tongue was unnaturally long and prehensile, snaking along her inner thighs. Her legs clenched his head at the touch, her cunt contracted as if to defend from his advances. But his lips were already nibbling at her cunt lips, his tongue lapping at her sex, his mouth closing on her clitoris and tugging gently. It was maddening.

Switching back to her legs, he ate the cum that dripped down her thighs, then worked his way to suck at her opening. Two fingers spread her lips, his tongue invading her cunt, mouth formed a vacuum on her vulva, pulling at her sex to get every drop of semen from her body.

This stimulated her cunt lips and clitoris to such a degree that she lost control of her bladder. At first she peed in his face, but that soon became an orgasmic spray of female juice. Screaming and gushing three times, each stream weaker than the last, it seemed she emptied every drop of liquid she contained. The crowd laughed as he gagged on her flow, spitting and blinking.

Standing he grinned at the group, his face and chest dripping. Then he bared his cock, turned and thrust into her cunt, her butt still jutting up over the capstan exposing her to everyone.

Fucking her continuously for what seemed an eternity, slick and wet from her gush and a slippery flow from the tip of his cock, finally refilling her cunt with a wet liquid cum. She was beyond screaming, and just endured the spasms of orgasm this drew from her body.

When he was done she lay limp, nearly kneeling, arms bound at full extension over her head, legs splayed awkwardly on the deck. Her knees together, legs shaking and bare toes jabbing at the deck, her hips twisted this way and that with her convulsions.

Next a young crewman, barely shaving, stripped naked for the task, lifted her hips and inserted himself in her still-slimy hole. He began pounding her cunt directly with his pelvis, a staccato rhythm like a running rabbit which paralyzed her from the extreme sensation.

She couldn't move; couldn't even breath, but froze like some marble statue. Her cunt stimulated beyond endurance, ass in the air and legs jutting out obscenely, jerking with each impact, back arched and head craned in a silent scream.

Finally he yelped, jammed himself as deeply into her body as he could and began cumming spasmodically. Jerking her hips around to follow his own orgasm, his cock's pulses matched by his gyrating torso, he deposited his seed deeply into her in a series of frantic outpourings.

He finally collapsed on top of her, spent utterly. Two men had to lift him from her unresisting, his cock popping out of her body still obscenely stiff and dragging ropy strings of jism from her depths, shaft white with gobbets of churned fluids.

The crowd looked on incredulously, suddenly silent. They laid him reverently on his back by the rail, his manhood still pointing upright like a flag pole, bobbing with each heartbeat, jism oozing out of the tip in weak blots and running down to pool in his crotch hair.

It continued: a bull of a man with a small cock; the cook smelling of pork; even a dwarf! with a surprisingly functional prick. Each added their bit to her load of semen and to the shattering of her wits.

When all had had their fill, some twice, one four(!) rounds, the bosun called time. She was unbound, arms lifting again under her shoulders.

Her legs were jelly, her hips massively sore, her crotch red from the punishment, her calves and feet oily from her sex fluids and that of a score of men. She tried to stand but slipped on the deck from all the slime pooled there.

Her captors held her easily like a kitten in their arms. She was carried unresisting to the rail as the other men returned to their work, laughing and talking. One had a mop and bucket, began sluicing the deck of the accumulated sex fluids, washing it to a gutter by the rail where it drained into the sea.

Afraid she would be cast overboard she suddenly found the strength to struggle. The two laughed at her attempts, batting her arms away as she clawed at their faces.

But they were just bringing her to a hatch, where she was carried down steps bodily. A door set into the bow was opened and she was tipped inside, falling on a bundle of coarse cloth. The door closed, the sound of the bolt slamming home, leaving her in complete darkness.

When she recovered her breath she scrabbled around until she felt the bounds of her prison - little wider than the door, narrowing and extending back further than she could reach. She guessed correctly that it was sailcloth she had landed on.

This was the packet ship's sail locker in the bow, identical to the one on her now-lost ship.

She sat in her makeshift prison waiting for eyes to adjust to the darkness. It never happened, the gloom was so complete.

As her body's vibrations stilled her mind began to fill the dark with phantoms and shadows. With an effort she wrenched her mind from these imaginary forms, lest she go mad.

She sat nearly motionless, her pounding heart slowing, her breath ragged. Every few moments a shudder would pass through her frame, whether from disgust or orgasmic extremes she wouldn't know.

A timeless time later the hatch reopened, the dim light from the deck above now bright enough to dazzle her. A bucket was set inside the door, filled with water. A rubbery something was tossed in her lap, the door re-closed and latched.

From the smell and consistency she guessed the object was boiled pork belly, smelling from the cask that held it for the long voyage and almost too salty to eat.

Exhausted, out of her mind with fatigue, she alternated long drinks from the bucket and swallowed unchewed strips pulled from the pork. It helped replenish all the fluids she'd expelled during the sexual assaults.

Her abuse, the extreme orgasmic episodes she'd had to endure, all left her weak. Her jaws were sore, barely able to open to accept the miserable gobbets of pork. Her ribs were bruised and hurt with every breath. Her cunt felt inflamed, her vagina wickedly hot despite the repeated wettings it had taken from two score ejaculations.

She shifted uneasily from cheek to cheek, failing to find any way to sit that didn't make her sex burn or her torso ache.

Once she'd had all the miserable food she could manage she felt an urgent need. Unwilling to soil her cell, she drank all the water she could manage, sluiced some on her punished sex and then sat on the bucket. In the dark she peed into the emptied vessel.

She smelled her own self - urine, sex, sour cum and cask pork. She nearly vomited from the odor in the close quarters, but resisted. She'd need her strength for whatever came next.

Laying on the sailcloth, she knew not what to think. No hope of rescue; no idea when a change of situation might occur; no assurance she would even survive the voyage. Sleep came at last, her spinning mind quieted by sheer exhaustion.

She awoke briefly when she felt the ship get underway, the rocking of the deck changing subtly. But she fell unconscious again immediately.

She was awakened by the hatch bolt sliding open. Uncertain what would come next, she backed away from the door. A head poked in, anonymously silhouetted against the light from the hatch above. A man, he said something guttural, not French nor Flemish, a barked order?

She didn't respond. Putting one leg inside the door he ducked halfway in, reached and groped in the dark. Snagging her hair he dragged her forward, yelping from the sudden pain. Stepping back out, he pulled her face to the door, her eyes dazzled by the dim light from the stairway.

Still holding her hair wrapped around one hand, he struggled with his pantaloons, released his rampant cock, thrust his hips forward and pulled her head to his crotch.

She didn't understand. Twisting her head, turning her face away from his member batting at her jaw, she pulled back.

He said something impatient and reached with his other hand to stick his thumb in her mouth. Forcing her jaw open, he again thrust his cock forward, jamming it into the opening!

This she understood. Her lover Sorgen had wanted to have his cock sucked, and had taught her ways to bring him pleasure.

Unwilling to do more than she had to for this brute, she opened her mouth to accept him but did no more.

Again impatient, he put one hand under her jaw, forced it closed. Her teeth met his tender flesh, and he jerked her hair up in warning.

With reluctance she closed her lips around his cock, began following his lead as he tugged her hair, moving her head forward and back, simulating fucking but with her face and mouth instead of her still-sore cunt.

He grunted in satisfaction, pumped his hips one-two-three times, and gushed forth his fertile load. She gagged, twisted, choked but he gave no heed, just jiggling his hips and stroking himself empty in her mouth.

Pulling out, he released her and backed through the door. It came shut abruptly, banging her smartly on the forehead as she had bent to cough and spit. Knocked backward onto the sailcloth she lay stunned, coughing weakly, swallowing what didn't dribble down her chin.

Was this the next phase of her existence? To be used as a semen extractor for the crew? Apparently that was why they kept her alive. Not out of any generous feeling of humanity; just as a vessel for their primitive urges.

Some time passed in this way, hours or days, lingering in darkness and stink, punctuated only by the door opening to some lustful crewman.

They would grab her hair, pull her to the door, and thrust their rampant cock into her mouth. She learned the quickest way to end the assault, which was to suck and lick with enthusiasm until they released into her throat.

In this way she avoided real harm, and further increased her food supply if only by a teaspoonful of cum. In fact this new technique brought more sailors to her locker, eager to enjoy the cock-sucking cum whore they kept as a pet.

So in this way she improved her survival chances, cum by cum and swallow by swallow.

After each eternity of darkness alternating with face fucking, the door would open on her bosun! He would take the bucket away, and return it scrubbed and full of clean water. Swallowing her disgust at drinking from her own chamber pot she would restore her strength with long draughts, and with chewing the bit of salt pork he would leave her.

Unlike her other former crewmen, the bosun would not assault her sexually. He just repeated "Desculpa!" each time and fastened the door again. His distress at her treatment did not extend to any further aid; probably he was captive to the good will of this ship, with no authority over her fate.

In time she found herself anticipating the crewmen's visits. Her cunt and lips would drool for the sex and food as she heard the door unfastened. Even the sight of another human being fed something inside her, the relief of light after darkness, of human contact after timeless isolation, fed her spirit.

Occasionally the small man who'd first disappointed his mates at the capstan would come. He was distinguished by never succeeding in completing his lust - he'd just stroke her hair gently, insert his cock in her mouth and leave it there for a while. Then he'd pull out and leave without speaking. Wearing her boots.

Her boots! Apparently he was the only crew member slight enough for them to fit. She felt a stab of envy each time he visited.

In between assaults from urgent sailors, she had many idle hours to fill. She would spend them in the dark, recalling memories of her life on the farm with her father; at home with Sorgen; even on her ship in the glorious weeks before the piracy, with the mate in her cabin. Anything to take her mind from the endless dark punctuated by demanding cocks and slimy cum.

She would spend timeless time with her fingers in her cunt, absently stroking in concert with the ship rolling. Occasionally cumming, mostly just stimulating herself so that she might feel something other than darkness and hunger. It kept her sane, connected to her sex.

In this way existence passed. In all the days or weeks she dwelt there, she never knew how long, she tasted every man many times save the bosun.

Nor the pirate Captain. He never visited. In fact, she never saw him again. Perhaps now as the crews' whore she was unworthy to be in the Captain's presence.

Waking from an uneasy sleep one endless day, she discovered the steady motion of the ship changed. It's rolls had quieted; the vibration of the bow wave diminished. She recognized it as 'harbor'. They were going to dock!

If she ever had a chance to change her situation, it had to happen soon. Racking her brain, in her weakened state she found she had no head for planning. She'd simply existed for so long, she didn't have the internal resources left to her to imagine anything else.

The opportunity was ultimately provided for her. The ship stilled, the darkness unabated but everything strangely quiet. Then the door opened, and two crew members stood in the light. She put her face forward to accept their sex as usual, drooling slightly.

Instead they put hands under her arms and hauled her out of her prison.

She was free of that hole! An electric thrill went through her. Every sensation was exciting - their rough touch, the air cool and clean, the dim light of the hatch. The possibility that she might not go back there. Even the thought of dying thrilled her - that would be an end of a sort.

Dragged up the steps to the hatch, she staggered on unsteady feet and blinked at the morning sun. Morning! The first she'd known of daylight or night for who knew how many days or weeks!

She drank in the sights, giddy. The boat was clearly docked in a South American port, to judge from the building style along the wharf. There hadn't been time to reach any other place anyway (had there?)