Mermaid's Lure Ch. 04

Author's Note: I've made slight changes to Chapter 3, in which the cap'n decides to sell Adeline off to the prince. Please check that out to prevent any confusion.

As always, enjoy reading!

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Adeline lost track of time once again. Time didn't flow the same way up here as it did at the bottom of the sea. The merman once told her the humans kept their time by the cycle of the sun and moon. Deep in the ocean, time was more fluid. She knew sharks who lived longer than it took for a large ship to rust in the depths of the sea floor. At home, she would break the kelp in front of the cave she used to stay in, when she went out to hunt for fishes, and would head out again when the kelp grew to a certain height. The human's cycle of day and night was much shorter than what she was used to. On the ship, the humans delighted in their rituals. They would scamper around the ship at the same time each day doing the same things as they did yesterday. Their busyness reminded her so much of the small yellow fishes which hung around her cave, always garbling and chasing after each other.

The first night on the ship was rough. Adeline felt physically drained and very parched. Her jaw hurt and her lips were so dry they cracked and bled. As the moon rose high up in the sky, most of the men went to bed and the boat fell silent, except for the creaking of the rigging and the crashing of waves against the side of the ship. She dozed off as well, her upper body hanging off the barrel. It was uncomfortable but she was so exhausted she didn't care. Her hair was matted where the men shot their seed. Her body and face had suffered the same too and now their semen dried and crusted on her skin. She thought she might be giving off a stench, something which simply didn't happen when she was a mermaid.

Wexley was the first one to wake up on ship. He took over from Clifford who preferred the night shift. Wexley liked dawn. The sight always cheered him up. And there was no better place to catch the sunrise than in the middle of the ocean. It always seemed so peaceful then, everything so perfect, so hopeful. He stepped on the deck with a tankard of ale and some dried meat and gazed at the horizon. The sky was beginning to light up, chasing away the darkness and welcoming all the colors of the sun. It reminded him of the flower fields of his hometown, before he decided to embark on an adventure.

An unmoving figure on the stern of the boat caught his eye then. He frowned, strolled over to her. The girl they rescued from the sea was asleep in an unnatural position, still tied to the barrel. He was sure she would have a crick in her neck when she woke up. He grimaced at her disheveled state, though he knew all of them had a hand in it, himself included. He didn't want to excuse himself. Not at all.

Still, he decided he would be kind and wash her and feed her. It was the same kindness he would extend to a starving dog on the street or to a lost child. It would also mean they would be able to use her for much longer. He had witnessed the whores who worked on some ships, knew most didn't live long before they succumbed to ill treatment and diseases. It was common knowledge that only the most desperate of whores were willing to work on the sea.

This woman wasn't the same. She was a virgin and they would sell her to the prince, cap'n had said. It was much wiser to keep her in good condition.

Her long lashes fluttered when he wiped her face with a wet cloth. She saw him but, just like yesterday, she wasn't afraid of him. Most people were. They found him too large, too tall, too muscular, and too black. When her face was cleaned, she murmured something to him, her voice soft and sweet. There was no need for translation. He saw the gratefulness shining in her eyes. It made him feel good, so he gave her some ale and water, and cleaned the rest of her up. He checked the bindings to make sure she didn't have rope burns. He even found some of the salve for treating sunburns which most of the crew refused to use. He would have to let the cap'n know her skin was too pale to remain in the sun until they reach the port. Perhaps they should cover her with some sort of shade.

His large hands caressed her back, tracing the column of her spine, entranced by the difference in the color of their skin. Wexley knew few people beyond his village ever had skin as dark as his, but he seldom felt embarrassed by it. It was the same, he thought, as those people with rare hair colors or eye colors, or odd birthmarks on their bodies. Now, he was delighted by the contrast of his hand on her back. He moved around on her ass, warming up the salve so she could absorb it better. She moaned. His cock began to grow in his pants. He remembered the way she had taken his long cock into her mouth, felt the urge to come in her again. He finished her legs with sweeping motions, saw that her pussy lips were once again puffy and her juices were seeping again. He fondled her pussy for a bit, then straightened and walked around to the front, freeing his cock from his pants. She opened her mouth obediently, her cheeks bulging out as he pushed himself into the wet cavity, already used to how these men handled her. He fisted her hair and fucked her mouth, his hips thrusting deeply until he spent his seed into her throat. That felt so good.

Adeline spent the next four days on the deck of the ship. The first day had been the worst. After that, the captain limited the men's time with her to three times a day and banned them from touching her anymore. She was also constantly applied with a cooling salve so her skin remained tender, and someone came around every once in a while to feed her ale and dried meat, and tend to her bodily functions.

On the fifth day, she was untied from the barrel by the cap'n, who was dressed neatly before her, his cock tucked in his pants. She fell clumsily into a heap on the deck, her muscles weak from the extended bondage. She felt dizzy, her limbs heavy and numb. She was also getting wet once more between her legs, long conditioned from the cap'n daily ministrations to equate his presence with a few hours of igniting fire in her pussy and denying her any release. She raised her head to look at him, opened her mouth to beg.

The cock in the captain's pants was right in line of sight as he stood towering over her. She was filled with an indescribable urge to take it out and shove it inside her. Would that give her the orgasm she wanted? The cap'n had rubbed his cock against her pussy, inciting those swollen flesh and sensitive tissues, teasing her but never giving her what she wanted. She knew they wanted to push their hard cocks into her but they held back for reasons she didn't know, plunging their cocks into her mouth and making her swollen all their seeds instead. She wanted what they kept taunting her with, a hard cock between her legs, pushing deep inside her, spilling his warm seed deep into her womb. Each time they teased her opening with their fingers, spreading her apart and sticking their fingers into her, she tried to imagine what a real cock would feel like. Would they fuck her like they fuck her mouth, rough and quick, with long deep strokes or short hasty ones, before sinking as deep as possible and spewing their seeds with a groan of satisfaction?

"Get up," Gerald ordered. When she didn't move, he looked down, noticing that she was staring at his crotch. He cracked into a smile, bending down and pulling her up. "Finally make you into a cock-hungry whore, haven't we?"

After five days of availing themselves to her body, he had announced that the girl would now be in the hold until they docked, which would be in two days. The crew had protested, but they also understood. She wouldn't have sold for a lot of money from the way she looked right now, like a used-up ship whore, and they needed her to be presentable for the palace slaver. And that was what Gerald would do now.

There was something else, of course. Gerald rubbed his chin and looked at her thoughtfully. "It's rather inconvenient that you don't speak our tongue. I'm going to teach you some words which will be extremely useful to you."

He brought her down into a small room. It was just big enough to hold a cot against the wall and a large wooden tub in the middle that was filled with sea water. There was some fresh water on board but it wasn't enough for bathing. Whenever one of the other men wanted to bathe, they went for a dip in the sea when the oceans were calm.

Adeline's irises dilated at the sight of the tub. She could almost feel the salt in the water, her skin prickling from the lack of it, even with the diligent application of the salve on her everyday. It appeared that though she looked human now, she retained some characteristics of merpeople, one of which was a very physical need to return to the ocean. She let out a soft sigh when the captain picked her up as though she weighed nothing and dumped her into the tub, causing some of the precious saltwater to splash out of it. She sank her whole body into it, a grin appearing on her face again. This tub might be tiny compared to the freedom of the ocean, but it reminded her of home. It felt so good to be enveloped in it again, to have the sea on her parched skin.

"What are you trying to do, drown yourself?" Gerald shouted as he yanked her hair and pulled her head out of the water. She stared at him incomprehensibly with large eyes. "Wash yourself, I'm not your bloody maid- Dammit." He swore when he realized she wouldn't be able to understand anything he said.

He picked up a brush made up with rough bristles and approached her. Her eyes widened at it. The spikes reminded her of a pufferfish she once saw, blowing itself up defensively into a ball of thorns when it was almost eaten by a predator. She shook her head, her hands grasping tightly to the rim of the tub.

"Let's get you clean, shall we?"

He held her down tightly, pressing her into the tub as she squirmed and tried to avoid the vicious scrubbing of the brush. It felt abrasive on her tender skin, reminding her of the stone the merman had cruelly abused her with. She remembered, clear as yesterday, how she was made to orgasm under the pain. That was not what she wanted.

"The fire's not dead in you, eh?" Gerald asked. He slipped an arm under her breasts, held her against the wall of the tub. Her legs could kick out all she wanted and make a slippery mess of the floor in the hold but it didn't matter. He was on the other side of the tub. "Let's see how you like this."

He rubbed the rough bristles over her large breasts, focusing on her sensitive nipples. She mewled, her hips twisting in the water. He put down the brush, reached over with his hand. He cupped a firm globe in his palm, bounced it slightly. "Breasts. These are your breasts. Say it. Breasts." He pinched a nipple and tugged it out. Rotated and twisted it between his fingers. "And this is your nipple. Red, sweet, beautiful nipples."

It took some repetition until she realized he was trying to teach her language. And then, it was easy from there. He didn't take long to wash her body, which mostly included him touching various parts of her pussy and telling her what they were called. He deliberately paid utmost attention between her legs. After all, it was the part of her which was worth the most.

His own cock was raging hard by the time she was clean. He made her stand up and lift one of her legs to the rim of the tub, forcing her pussy lips to spread before him again. Her hips undulated when he drew a finger across her, enjoying each sound she made, the way her inner muscles quivered as it tried to hold on to his teasing fingers, the pitiful noises when she realized he wasn't going to bring her to a climax. He made her undo his pants and release his cock, taught her what it was and how to pleasure him with her hands. It felt so much better have his cock masturbated and his balls massaged by her soft hands as it would have been to be touching himself. He finally came, spewing his seed between her legs. He made her rub it all over her body, inspired by the primitive need to possess her. His arousal was stirring in his loins again even though he had just come. It was a kind of hell, he thought, to want to fuck a woman but couldn't. Not where it truly mattered. Annoyed, he dipped her into the water and washed her clean again.

Finally, he pulled her out, noticing that her fingers didn't turn pruny even though she had been staying in the water for a while. There were no woman's clothes on the ship so he dressed her in one of his linen shirts. When he got paid, he could easily compensate himself plenty of shirts, maybe ones made from the softest silks from the far East. He left her with some ale and cured meat, returning to check on her half an hour later to find her playing with herself. She was on the bed, her cheeks slightly red from being drunk, a hand fumbling on her pussy.

"Oh no, you don't." He crossed the room and pulled her hand out from between her legs. In the low light from the single lamp in the small room, he could see her juices glistening on her fingers and on her thighs. She was squeezing them together, trying to get the stimulation needed for her to orgasm. Her eyes were wet and dazed. He glanced at the empty tankard and made the connection.

"I guess we're successful," Gerald mused. "We just have to keep you in this state until you meet the prince."

He tied her up again, not wanting to risk her masturbating and undoing all their efforts. He made sure he tied her legs down, her thighs apart so she couldn't rub them together to get off. For the last two days of their voyage, he went to her room each night, gliding his hands in her slippery arousal and teasing her swollen flesh until her hips undulated in an unspoken sexual demand.

On the final day, they heard the familiar calls of seagulls flying in the sky, knew they were close to land. They began to catch sight of other ships, large and small ones, some of the heading out to sea while some were returning to the port, laden with crates of goods. The largest of them had sails carrying the royal crest of their king. Slowly, the busiest city in their kingdom appeared on the horizon; a huge sprawling palace sat on top of a small mountain in the center, crowded streets circling around it, expanding outwards like roots of a tree.

They had arrived at their destination.

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The palace slaver was a portly bespectacled man dressed in a long fine coat of bright blue and heeled boots. He alighted from a carriage with two tall, muscular guards, before a large building located near the seaport. He was an important man, in charge of the acquisition of slaves in the palace. He decided which slaves would enter the palace and where unruly slaves would go. He was responsible for all the slaves in the palace, not simply for the king, but the queen, the prince and princesses. Slaves were an inordinately useful asset now, for they could do any tasks required, such as the cleaning of chamber pots and the washing of laundry. The palace simply wouldn't be able to function smoothly without any slaves at all. Not to mention, he always travelled with guards, more than a dozen if necessary. It made him look more important. The guards were necessary in his line of work. There were often unruly slaves who needed subduing, and nothing intimidated more than pure muscles.

Even the palace steward, who oversaw the king's household, was courteous to him.

The palace slaver wrinkled his nose at the building in front of him. He hadn't wanted to come here. The air smelled damp, like rain, and the building, even though it looked respectable on the outside, was unkempt and rundown. He looked down at his boots, saw the splash of mud from where he stepped off the carriage, drawing a frown on his face. He wanted to be in his office where he could drink a cup of hot tea in front of the fire instead of traipsing to the port. The salt in the air always ruined his skin. He scowled as he patted his balding scalp, then headed into the building. Two men came out to receive him before he approached the entrance. One of them was the owner of the slave auction which he was familiar with and the other appeared to be a sea captain.

"Gilroy! Good of you to come. Wait till you see what we have for you." Emil was practically rubbing his hands together in excitement.

Gilroy had known Emil for many years. Emil was in charged of most of the slaves which passed through the capital. He had a fine eye for good hardy slaves and Gilroy never had any trouble with anyone he purchased from Emil. On the occasions when Gilroy needed a few special merchandises, Emil could be trusted to procure for him. It was why Gilroy came when Emil sent a note to him in the morning about a special arrival, stating that he absolutely needed to come personally. Emil had known he was troubled lately.

He didn't react to Emil's excitement, instead, eyeing the sea captain. "Who's this?"

Emil was quick to answer. "This is Captain Gerald. He's the one who brought the slave."

Gilroy arched a brow. "From the seas? She's been on the ship then?"

He didn't want to be critical, but most of the ship slaves were overused by the time the crew decided to sell them away. Perhaps he could overlook it if it was a man, but women generally do not survive well on ships with a crew of horny men for extended periods.

"No, no, no," Emil waved his hands. "Do you think I'll do that to you? Only the finest for Gilroy. Only the best for the palace. Come. Take a look."

Gilroy couldn't deny that he was intrigued. Emil hadn't been this confident since he presented the last batch of pleasure slaves to him three months ago. The king remained enamored with the two latest females and the queen had had the new male many nights in her bed in the following months. Needless to say, Gilroy was handsomely rewarded.

It was common for the upper classes to indulge their sexual appetites separately with pleasure slaves. Most of them had married for reasons other than love, and definitely not sexual compatibility. Besides, it was considered crude to expend their sexual desires on their spouse, which was why having pleasure slaves were in fashion. They could do anything they wanted with the slaves and maintained respectful towards their spouses.

Emil led them through a maze of corridors. Gilroy could identify some of them, having frequent this place plenty of times. They were guided away from the public area where potential customers were received and the slaves displayed, towards the back rooms where the slaves were processed. The building was crowded. Guards patrolled the walkways while trainers brought unruly slaves to heel before they were sold. The new slaves were silent for the most part, intimidated and terrified. Every Monday, Emil would round them up and pick the most disobedient one and flog them in front of everyone. That slave would be broken after the vicious flogging and, if they managed to survive, sent to the mines.

Nobody wanted to go to the mines.

"Here. Look at her. She's perfect." Emil stopped at one of the doors and waved them in eagerly.

Gilroy saw the woman at once, standing in the middle of the room. Emily had already made sure she was naked and ready for inspection. Her wrists were bound with a chain to a bolt in the ceiling, and she was given just enough rope to keep her on her toes if she didn't want to put all her weight on her shoulders. To make matter worse, her legs were tied at least shoulder width apart, making it difficult for her to keep her balance. As they watched, she panted, lost her footing and whimpered until she managed to rise on her toes again. She must have been kept here for some time, a sheen of sweat covering her body.