Misty Dawn & The Raven Ch. 4

Starkly threw back the door that lead to the bunks of the crew. The hag was there bent over a battered sea chest. Her wrists were bound behind her back and two seamen were pummeling her fore and aft like a child's seesaw. One would slam into her pussy and drive her gaping mouth onto the shaft of the other sailor. The woman looked wretched in distress as her noble flesh was ground over the cracked and splintered wood and raised rivets of the chest. Starkly grinned leeringly as he slammed the door shut behind him. His lust further inflamed he began tearing at his clothes.

The sailor at her mouth grunted as he blasted her mouth with his semen. Sinking back from her coughing and gagging mouth he looked up at Starkly, "Nuttun' finer, Mr. Starkly, than a high b'rn tart," the man gasped to his shipmate. The man buried in her pussy ignored the entrance of his partner in crime and dug his calloused fingers into her bony hips as he rammed her overworked snatch with rapid strokes. The man who sank continued, "Care for a taste, yerse'f, Mr. Starkly?" Starkly simply pushed his way to the man who was still plundering the poor woman's treasures.

Starkly barked in a hoarse rasp, "Stand aside Mr. Fox." The man rammed his manhood deep into the woman and forced her to moan in pain, before looking up, "Not just yet, sir," he retorted holding his rod fully into the woman. Starkly slammed the man hard on the shoulder and forcefully spun him from his enjoyment. Lady Catherine shrieked as result and clenched her eyes tight shut, trembling in fear.

The dislodged man narrowed his eyes and spat, with his yet unloaded barrel glistening in the candle light and throbbing with anger and lust, "Beggin' yer pardon, Mr. Starkly, but wait yer turn." Starkly flashed a hand behind his back and drew out a thick bladed knife from his loosened belt. The sailor staggered backward fumbling for his own discarded weapon. The spent man scrambled for the doorway. "I be getting my cut of this trollop now, Mr. Fox!" Starkly spat as he bared his weapon to Lady Catherine's displayed entrances.

Fox sprawled back scurrying along the floor of the stuffy bunk castle. His eyes burning with rage and venom, as he watched, Starkly laid his knife flat across the back of Lady Catherine. He took her ass cheeks and pulled them roughly wide with both hands. The throbbing tip of his desire pressed hard against her tiny ring. Lady Catherine shrilly shrieked in a new terror, her legs limply kicked in resistance. Fox's hand fumbled on the discarded items beneath a bunk as he watched Starkly grit his teeth and press the head of his straining cock into Catherine's ass. Catherine shrieked and howled in pain as her body fought hard against this new invasion.

Fox's fingers closed over the butt of a pistol that he drew forward in the dark. Starkly closed his eyes as, through brute forced, he ram into the bowels of the hapless Lady Catherine with slow determination of a man possessed of his desire and in possession of his release. Catherine screamed as she was pressed, stretched, and filled like a street prostitute on a tavern floor. Something inside her was breaking, as her multitude of abuse was reaching virgin territory she had never imagined. It was as if she was almost reaching a plateau of peace in her captivity, just as her ass was being torn asunder by the throbbing invader stabbing her to the hilt.

Starkly pulled back and ran his blade deep into Catherine's searing flesh. It gripped and tugged, fought and pulled encouraging his burning seed. He battered her red cheeks with his grimy hips, grinding his pelvis against her ass, callously. He could feel the pressure building deep within his balls he drew back for another thrust, not hearing the metallic click from across the floor. In one final lunge, he buried himself deep into her ass as the cabin erupted in an exploding cloud of sulfur.

Fox watched over the end of the smoking pistol as Starkly's head erupted and jerked violently. Catherine felt the explosion of hot liquid bathing her bowels as the twitching cock was ripped from her ass by the force of the pistol shot. The two shots, of life and death, their triggers having been pulled in the exact same instant. Starkey's body sprawled to the deck, ripped from the heaven of Catherine's sweet ass, and falling lifeless to the deck like a bloodied rag. Catherine shrieked and screamed as she stared into the dead man's eyes, wide open. His face was streaked with his own blood that coursed over his lips parted in a silent, frozen grunt of satisfaction.

The door burst open and there was the Captain, flanked by his hulking moor, the man she had been forced to service babbling uselessly behind them in the stairwell. Fox's face went pale as a gravestone when he looked upon his captain and he tried to scurry farther back, hitting his shoulders on the lowest bunk, dropping the still smoking pistol, as his hitherto enflamed manhood shrunk in his own cowardice.

Charles' icy eyes flashed over the cabin, summarizing the tragedy that had just played out. "Fazul, seize him!" Charles ordered as he stepped into the room and pulled Catherine's aching body to her feet by a bound arm. Fox held his hands up like a useless woman in defense, as he crouched before Fazul's bulk, "Fazul, F-f-az-ul," he sputtered in terror, "it- it was not my fault. He would not wait his turn... he- he pulled a knife. Fazzullll---" Fox trailed off with a shriek as he was drug from the room on his back and up the stairs. The giant man's fist locked like a bear-trap around his genitals, dragging him off to his fate.

Charles looked directly into Catherine's eyes. She was not completely homely, but she was no striking beauty either. However, her use by his men had given her a look of complete shock and pain. She had never had such treatment and her body was paying a price for its neglect to this point. Her middle-aged face was streaked with tears and dried male issue; blue and violet shades on her cheeks demonstrated blows from early on in her resistance. Her thighs were weak and caked with fluids, as she had seen little peace since the crew had taken her as an amusement.

Catherine was still screaming as he pulled her from the chest and she watched fearfully as his eyes slowly trailed over her body. She took a halting deep breath certain that this man was to be the next to have her, his head shrouded with long blonde curls, as his piercing eyes of ice burned her flesh. Then he spoke to her, his tone was mocking, yet soft, "Well, well, mi'tart," he grinned, "it would seem you have already became a distraction to my men. A slut for but one full day and night and you have men ready to kill over your charms, I must say I am impressed."

Catherine cast her eyes down; a shameful wash flooded her cheeks. She was filled with rage, but too weak and fearful to speak. Her wrists, still bound, were only part of the reason she did not strike this gallant rake for his haughtiness. Her battered and over stunned mind was slipping. She had never known such pain and physical insult as she had learned in the last few hours. She had fought at first, but as the brutes had ravaged her flesh, something had been jarred to the surface in her soul. Something that had been lost, or smothered, lying dormant likes a leviathan on the ocean floor, lumbering for years of her married life. Something she had never known was there, but now was feeling it slither through her soul. A demon that desired her own destruction was whispering to the ear of her soul and she was transfixed, helpless to her own slowly smoldering, deflowering. Catherine's head swam and she sank in his arms, exhaustion catching the better of her.

Charles pulled her slumping from the cabin and hauled her on to the deck. The crescent moon leered down on the deck and most hands were already present. Fazul had Fox strung up; his wrists were pulled high and wide to the rigging, stretched tight as a bow from the ropes. His ankles were like wise bound and stretched. Fox's nude body shone in the starlight, the sweat of pain and fear reflecting the glow of the moon. Charles boldly strode to the deck, dragging the hapless Lady Catherine with him. He stopped as he drew along side Fazul, and regarded the prisoner strung before him. Thrusting Catherine towards Fazul, "Tie the wench up as well!" Fazul caught Catherine he flashed Charles an inquisitive look, but simply nodded, "As you wish, Sultan."

Charles turned to the crowd, "Roust all hands!" He bellowed. A murmur and flurry of activity swept the deck, grabbing a young sailor by the striped and dirty shirt, he spun the man around, "Go fetch my jewel as well, she needs to witness what happens when transgressions are made," roughly shoving the man towards his cabin he turned back to watch as Catherine was tied up and spread wide as Fox, the fingers of her right and his left hand nearly touching as Fazul finished the securing of the pair.

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Dawn had been frightened ever since she heard the distance thump that sent Charles leaping from the cabin. She heard the flurry of motion about the deck outside but had feared to open the door and observe. She sat on the edge of Charles' desk fidgeting her fingers nervously. Something was up but she was fearful of investigating. The shouts of some men and hushed tones of others made her less assured of herself. She wondered if she should stay, she wondered if she should go out. Unsure of herself she bit her lower lip and crept near the door, she tossed her red curls aside and pressed her ear to the door.

She heard Charles voice over the din of sea and sailors murmurings. He was ordering someone to be tied up. She drew back from the door and backed away slowly. What was going on? A chill shot down her spine as she backed until her thighs stopped at the desk's edge. He arms wrapped around her naked body, partially covering her breasts from the chill of fear that was coursing through her veins.

Her gray-green eyes locked upon the gold dolphin of the door handle as it dropped signifying that someone was pressing for entry. Her heart leapt into her throat. She leaned back over the desk as the door opened quickly and a young sailor with a cutlass pushed inside. His eyes flashed over her flesh for a moment before he lowered his gaze, and she almost laughed as this young cutthroat lowered his eyes to the floor and asked hesitantly, "The c-cap'n, wishes your presence on deck." Dawn smiled, despite her fear she lowered her arms and walked boldly to the young man, "Of course," she said with an air of confidence that she had not experienced before in her life. It was a powerful intoxicant to have a young and lusty criminal fear to look at your naked form. To know that she was the captain of rogues' personal pet and somehow that made her feel regal in her exposure. She pushed past the sailor and took a deep breath of fresh night air as she stepped out under the sky.

The young man through the parting crowd of Charles' crew led Dawn. As the last few men cleared for her path, she took a sharp breath and the chill ran down her spine once again. Lady Catherine was tied like an 'X', as was a pirate next to her. The crew had formed another ring around them and there was Charles, he had removed his shirt and the muscles were rippling in the moonlight, with his long golden hair wafting in the sea wind over his broad shoulders. His ever-present hulking shadow, Fazul was approaching Charles form the left carrying a small iron box. Fazul set the box on the deck at Charles feet and bowed. Just then, two men drug the gangly body of the late Mr. Starkly above deck. The sight gave Dawn cause to bring a hand to her lips, in an attempt to stifle the sharp, and audible gasp at the gruesome scene.

Charles turned his eyes dark and menacing as he turned to face her. The chill reverberated through her core as he looked at her with murder in his gaze. "Ah, m'pet," Charles said loudly enough for all to hear, "I wanted you to see this. Take it as a lesson about rules on this ship." Turning his gaze from her as he circled speaking to the crowd, "And that goes for all of you lot! You all know the rules. We here are brothers of Lucifer; we all take a measure of our shares. No man hides from another, no man disputes another's claim. AND!" He shouted raising a accusing finger high and pointing it as if it were as lethal as a pistol towards the back of Fox's head, "...And no man kills another of our brethren for common loot, on this ship!"

A murmur ran through the flock of pirates as they looked on while Charles continued. "Mr. Fox and Mr. Starkly seemed to have had a disagreement over their dispensation of this insignificant trifle," Charles pulled a lock of Catherine's hair hard and rubbed it between two fingers for all to see. Catherine's head jerked back and she began to weep as he rolled her hair in his grasp.

Releasing Catherine's hair he turned to the throng once more and asked the crowd, "Do any of you think this is unfair to met out punishment for the death of our late shipmate?" Again, a murmur and all eyes were downcast. "IF any of you think that this is unreasonable, step forward now and take up your sword. We can settle my right to judge on my decks as gentlemen, if you've the steel." He paced round looking as many as he could in the face, all turned away, knowing that no one could expect to live by raising a blade in Fox's defense. Charles stopped and ran his fingers through his hair, pulling his locks from his face. "Good, as to that matter we can proceed. Fazul, give Mr. Starkly his due," Charles only nodded to the corpse behind him on the deck. Fazul bowed and with the help of another man lifted the body from the deck and carried it to the gunnels and simply heaved it over the side. Mr. Starkey's body splashed in the wake of the Raven and drifted bobbing behind the ship, in route to Davy Jones, like all pirates of untimely ends.

Charles placed his hands on his hips and addressed the crew, "Should this booty prove a point of contention on these decks it will, as past items of quarrels are thrown over the side. The sea can have its share of her treasures if we cannot all abide by the laws of these decks. IS THAT UNDERSTOOD!?!" Charles bellowed. Catherine felt her heart leap into her throat, she was to be cast overboard and drowned. She could not bare it. She could barely swim for god's sake! She was going to die this night! Her body broke into a cold sweat and her pulse raced in her veins beating like the drums on the gallows in her ears. She began to bawl loudly.

Hearing the words of Charles and seeing Catherine begin to bawl uncontrollably, Dawn ran across the decks and grasped for one of Charles' powerful arms. She fell to her knees and pleaded, "Captain, please," her voice choked with fear but she could not see to having this woman thrown to the waves, she could not think of one reason to want to keep her alive, but she could not meet her maker without trying to gain the leniency of Charles' court. "My captain, please do not kill this woman, I beg of you," Dawn said with halting soft tones her eyes glazing with tears of pity.

Charles looked down at her for a long moment before responding, "This woman, this woman who henpecked you from England to the azure Caribbean?" Charles lifted the arm she had grasped for and pointed absently in the direction of the Lady Catherine. As his arm slipped from her grasp, Dawn cast her eyes to the polished planks of the dark deck. She did not look up, she simply whispered, "Yes, that woman." Charles replaced his fists on his hips and continued his inquiry, "Why should I not throw her to the sea?"

Dawn's head began to pound in pain and frustration but she threw her head back, raised her gray-green eyes to his blue ones, and stated loudly, "Because I think it would be a waste, to simply throw away a life, my Captain." A single tear of defiance and pity silently dripped down her cheek as she stared at Charles. He looked at her for a long moment, then asked Dawn in long slow words, "My dear," he began and turned his back to her as he continued, "would you put your flesh along side hers, to bear part of her punishment, if I were to not follow the law of this vessel and cast her over the side. Would you before this assembly commit to that?"

A loud murmur ran through the gathering of cutthroats as Charles finished and tossed his head a bit clearing a few strands of curls from his face. Dawn's heart leapt, she did not want to die, but she would not be shown a coward before all these leering eyes, she lifted her shoulders and chin, taking a deep breath she said loudly and clearly, "Yes. I will share in any punishment she can take to spare her useless life."

Catherine, heard the words and coughed a sigh of relief, but her fear of what the punishment was, was too much to bear. The useless Irish whore was doing a foolish thing to save her, but she at least knew her place as Catherine's servant. Her tears continued to pour from her eyes, but she at least was to be spared her life. Someday she would see that her husband heard of Dawn's heroics and possibly some permanent compensation could be assured the dutiful girl.

Charles turned round slowly as the murmur ran its course in the wake of Dawn's words of bravery. He did not speak to Dawn, but to his shipmates," Now I put the question to you, should my prize share in your share's punishment? Put it to the vote!" With that, he turned and leaned on the mast. The crew shuffled and talked amongst themselves for several minutes that felt like hours. Dawn could feel the sea air biting her nipples with its chill, but she remained kneeled and erect, her scarlet locks buffeted in the wind. Her pride fully displayed along with her exposed form as she felt a myriad of eyes flashing across her creamy flesh. She did not care, she was too proud to even allow herself to feel or see the terror that was welling in her breast. The longer the crowd spoke in hushed tones and the rigging creaked eerily, more of that annoying fear built within her; and the more she fought it with her stubborn, fiery pride.

Finally one man rose and stepped forward stopping directly behind Dawn, he took off his cap and addressed, Charles, "Cap'n, sir," he began softly, then swallowed and said more forcibly as Charles looked disapprovingly at his tone, "Cap'n, sir, w-we, have decided to see the wenches share the burden of shipboard ju'tiss'." The man nodded his head and many heads nodded in agreement from the shadows of the deck. The man fidgeted with his cap and stepped back slowly.

Charles looked over the faces of his crew slowly, trying to catch the eye of everyman to assure this was the verdict. He then clapped his hands twice and Fazul stepped forward quickly pulling Dawn to her feet and dragging her to the yardarm next to Catherine. "You are too brave, Sultan's Girl, too brave," he whispered in her ear as he took her first wrist and pulled it high, lashing it securely to the arm. As he did so, he slipped a small roll of leather into her mouth, "Bite this, Sultan's Girl, it will help you, suck it," he instructed. Dawn's tongue found the object soaked with some bitter, foul tasting liquid but she bit it and tried to keep her tongue from it. Suddenly the ship seemed to pitch more violently than it had, but at a much slower pace. The chill air seemed hot and smooth over her skin, she shook her head as her second leg was pulled wide and lashed to the deck.

Fazul finished his work and stepped aside. Dawn thought that a fog had rolled in, but she could have sworn that there was a tear in the giant man's eye as he bowed to her and backed away. Dawn's head was swimming, her stomach felt nauseous. Funny she had never felt seasick before. Another funny thing, was her tongue seemed to be completely numb, like she had fallen asleep on it and it was trying to get blood back to it. She shook her hair off her neck and reveled her body to the hot wind that was caressing her every curve. She had never felt so alive. She rolled the piece of leather about in her mouth, savoring its texture with her dull tongue.