Taming the Duchess de Montfort Ch. 03

One: Back to theFortune Hunter

“Black Jack” Hutton and the raiding party from the pirate vesselFortune Hunter made their way through the tropical forest as they headed for the beach. Therese du Maurier, the Duchess de Montfort, was being carried over the shoulder of the First Mate, Pete. She had stopped struggling early in the journey; a few good smacks on her bottom through her linen caftan had taken care of that. After about twenty minutes they stopped and put her on her feet. She briefly contemplated running, but with her hands tied behind her and the four pirates so close she knew there was no point.

Instead she yelled, hoping to bring assistance from one of Captain Antoine Renoir’s crew who might be in the area.

“Aidez-m…,”she barely got a sound out before Pete clamped his hand over her mouth.

“Nice try, m’lady, but there ain’t a person to hear ya’ within a half-mile,” he said.

“Gag her anyway, Pete,” said Hutton. “Let’s not take any chances.”

Pete stuffed a piece of cloth in her mouth, then tied a twisted kerchief around her lower face to hold it in place. He untied her hands, but held them securely as he retied them in front before attaching a four-foot length of rope to the bonds. Now she could walk the rest of the way without him having to worry about her crying out or making a break for freedom.

The group continued, Therese being pulled along, until they reached the edge of the forest. Here they stopped before emerging from the cover of the woods. Across the sand sat the rowboat they had used to come ashore, but caution dictated that they scout the beach from hiding before revealing themselves. Satisfied that the way was clear, they crossed the distance to the shore, placed Therese on a seat and pushed the boat into the water as they hopped in. Therese sat still, afraid that if she fell overboard with her hands tied she would drown.

Once out in deep water, Pete removed her gag, and with no place for her to go he also removed the bonds from her wrists. As the boat was rowed out of the cove and into open water the sloopFortune Hunter came into view. As they approached, a man on watch threw a rope ladder over the side and they secured the boat.

“Up you go, darling,” Hutton said as he placed his hands on her waist and gave her a boost up the ladder.

Wearing her thin slippers she was a bit unsure of her footing, but she held on and managed to climb up to the deck, with Hutton following right behind her in case she slipped. At the top the crewman offered his hand and pulled her up. Soon the others were on board and the ladder was pulled up.

“Bring up the dinghy. We’ll sail soon,” Hutton ordered.

“This is a fine bit of treasure, Captain,” the man said, looking Therese up and down.

The caftan Bella had given her was intended for sleeping in the warm Caribbean nights and only covered her legs to mid-thigh. The scooped neck revealed the swell of the French girl’s generous bosom.

“And I ain’t never seen eyes that green before,” said another crewman.

“Ay, Davy, she’s a tasty morsel indeed,” the Captain replied. “Let the men know that she’ll be on deck to meet them for an hour until we set sail.”

‘Meet them?’ thought Therese. What did he mean by that?

Noticing a bucket of water with a dipper hanging on the side, Therese asked if she might have a drink.

“Of course, m’lady,” Hutton said as he offered her the dipper. She drank deeply and filled the ladle twice more and drained it. She handed it back to the Captain as she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand.

Hutton took Therese’s arm and led her over to the mainmast. The base of the mast was mounted in the center of a raised platform, onto which he lifted the French aristocrat. He pulled her arms over her head and tied her wrists to a black iron ring attached to the tall timber. Word had traveled fast, and men were already assembling on deck. They were a nasty-looking group, at least as coarse and brutal as the four in the raiding party. The young Duchess was terrified, afraid she would be seriously hurt by these men. Hutton seemed to know what she was thinking, because he leaned close and said to her,

“Don’t worry, m’lady. You’re too valuable to us as a prize for the market in Port Royal for me to let any permanent harm come to you. But you will be trained for service on this journey.”

His words held no comfort for the captive aristocrat. Unsure exactly what he meant by ‘trained for service’ she was trembling as the men gathered around the platform. They were beginning to move closer, staring up at the bound beauty.

“Easy, men. We’re taking her to Port Royal for sale at the slave market. She’ll bring a pretty price, especially after we teach her a trick or two.”

“I could teach her all by myself, Captain!” said one of the brutes as he reached up and placed his hand on her calf. Therese cringed and tried to pull away.

“Me, too. I’ll teach her how to use that mouth like a good slave!” said another.

“Truth be told she already knows how to use that mouth quite well, lads,” laughed Pete.

“True enough, men. She’ll balk at first, but once she really gets started she’s hotter than a cannon after the battle,” said Hutton.

“No, please! Don’t do this, don’t hurt me, please!” begged the frightened girl.

“Let’s just have a good look at her for now, men. We have to get underway before that scum Renoir comes looking for her.”

“You took her from Renoir?” asked one of the men, sounding a little unsure now.

“She says she’s one of his women, but she doesn’t bear his mark. I think he must have captured her recently and hadn’t had time,” the Captain explained. “That’s why we can sell her at Port Royal. But we’ll have plenty of time for fun on the way!”

“A fine plan indeed, Captain. We get to enjoy the slut and still make some gold,” one of the men said.

“With the other wenches we’re holding this should be a very profitable journey, Captain,” said Pete.

‘Other wenches?’ thought Therese, realizing they must have other women on board to sell as slaves.

Hutton said to Pete, “Yes, my friend. Those whores have taken the training well. There isn’t one doesn’t beg for cock when she’s supposed to.”

“Mon Dieu!” Therese gasped. “You can’t do this! Let me go, I swear you can receive ransom for me!”

“Believe me, Lady. We will get plenty for you and the others at the slave market, and without the risk of trying to exchange you for ransom.”

Therese pulled at the bonds over her head, but they were secure. She looked around at the scurvy lot as they moved closer. Hutton drew the dagger from his belt and brought the sharp edge close to Therese’s cleavage as he made a cut in the neckline of the caftan. He then pulled the fabric apart, ripping it down to her waist and baring her naked breasts to the hungry crew. The men were making sounds of appreciation and commenting on the lovely mounds.

“By Satan’s beard, those are the finest apples this side of Jamaica!” exclaimed one of the men as he saw Therese’s pink nipples beginning to harden.

“I doubt you’ve ever seen apples that size, mate,” commented another.

Hutton tore the fabric the rest of the way down to the bottom, and the front of the caftan was completely open. Therese squeezed her legs together to protect her sex from their eyes, but with her pubic hair gone they could clearly see the top of her slit peaking out from between her thighs. Two men grabbed her calves and pulled her legs apart, exposing the full nakedness of her shaved pussy. Hutton ripped the remains of her caftan away, leaving her stark naked before the mob of fiendish outlaws, her hands tied above her and her legs spread wide.

Hutton lifted one of her breasts, squeezing and hefting it as if to show it off to the men. She squirmed and tried to twist away from his touch, but it was no use. He ran his hand down her belly and over her hairless mound, sliding it between her legs and stroking the inside of her thighs. The young Duchess had her eyes tightly shut, not wanting to see the faces of the men who were watching her torment.

She whimpered in a barely audible voice, “S’il vous plait, monsieur! Laissez-moi tranquille!”

Hutton ignored her pleas. When he pinched her nipples, pulling and twisting the sensitive nubs, she gasped,

“No, please, don’t touch me!” and suddenly opened her eyes to see the dozens of brutal faces staring intently at her suffering. Strands of her disheveled auburn hair hung down in front of her face.

Seeing all these men, these hard cruel criminals, looking at her bound naked body, her legs forced apart so that they could clearly see her shaved pussy lips, she realized she was completely at their mercy. They would do whatever they wanted to her, and she was powerless to stop them. Feelings of helplessness and surrender began to overwhelm her will to resist. Recent experience had taught her that it was hopeless for her to try to defy them. Her body would betray her, like it had before, and she would become a wanton slut pleading for them to use her for their filthy purposes. She was weak, and sinful, and deserved to be used like a whore for their lust.

She continued to stare back at them, no longer avoiding their hard gazes. If they wanted to look at her, let them look. If they wanted to fuck her, let them. If they forced her to suck their vile cocks, then so be it. She would fuck, and suck, and wallow in lust until she was defiled and degraded, just as she deserved.

Feeling that she had nothing to lose anymore, Therese looked at the filthy brutes and threw all caution to the wind. With her mouth still moist from the water she had just drunk, she gathered as much saliva as she could and spat it at their staring faces.

“Pigs! Dogs!Merdaille! Fils a putain!” she screamed at them, using every vile word she had heard but had never used in her sheltered life.

Seeing the beautiful Duchess, bound and naked, spitting and cursing, brought howls of laughter from the depraved brutes. Hutton was holding a flexible little whip about two feet long, with a flap of leather on the end. He silenced her tirade with a flick of the wrist as he struck a quick, stinging blow on her naked breast. It brought a shocked gasp from the French girl as she stared in terror at the black leather riding crop. He hit her again, on the belly, right over her pretty navel. She shrieked and twisted, pulling at the rope that held her wrists, almost wrenching free of the men who held her legs as the crew yelled encouragement.

“Hit her again, Captain!”

“Let her have it, Jack!”

“Make the wench dance!”

The leather flap made sharp cracks as Hutton peppered the naked girl with smacks on her thighs, belly and beautiful breasts. The firm globes shook and trembled as she thrashed about in response to the painful slaps. The heartless brute even aimed some of the blows directly onto the puffy pink tips of the sweet girl’s lovely breast flesh, causing her aureoles to swell and her nipples to harden.

When she was glowing pink from shoulders to knees the men holding her ankles traded legs as they turned her around so that her smooth back and perfect round ass were facing the men. They pulled her feet back so that she had to step farther away from the mast, forcing her to bend over as the rope pulled on her arms. Now the lovely globes of her full round bottom were presented to the stares of the vile ruffians. With her legs held apart, her sweet shaved cunt was fully exposed. The sight of the plump, hairless lips and moist open slit inflamed the pirates’ lust, and several had unbuttoned their flies and were stroking their hard cocks.

To the delight of the men she was made to squirm and wiggle her rear as Hutton beat her on the ass with the black crop. She was screaming and begging, pleading for mercy.

“Oh! OW! Mon Dieu! S’il vous plait! Arretez! Je vous en prie! AAAHHH!!”

Hutton ignored her pleas, working to break the beautiful noblewoman’s spirit in preparation for the slave-training to come. Finally he stopped and stuck the crop in his belt. Her ass was bright pink from the whipping, and he ran his hands over her cheeks and felt the heat of her racing blood. As the men watched, he slid his hand between her spread legs and cupped her bare pussy. The sobbing princess was helpless to resist as he stroked the tender slit, feeling the soaking wetness that betrayed her arousal. Using two hands, he spread her ass open, showing her pink puckered bottom hole to the horny crew. He pulled her open harder, spreading her pussy lips apart so the pirate crew could see how wet she was.

“Look at the slut. She’s dripping with juice!” laughed one of the men.

“A perfect slave! She gets wet when you beat her!”

“Noooo! Please, I can’t help it!” moaned the quivering beauty. “Please don’t do this, I beg you!”

“Oh, God,” thought Therese, “what is the matter with me? He beat me in front of these monsters and I can’t stop myself from getting wet.”

As the men stared at her wet, open pussy Hutton rubbed his fingers over her erect clit, causing her to groan and wiggle her hips involuntarily. More sweet cream seeped from her clenching hole, trickled over her twitching clit and ran down the insides of her thighs in glistening trails. The aroma of the young woman’s hot pussy drifted to the buccaneers on the sultry Caribbean air. Hutton slid a finger into her steaming pussy hole, and she was unable to stop herself from thrusting back to drive the probing digit deeper. She groaned again, shame and arousal feeding off each other and driving her insane with submissive lust. Therese suddenly became aware of a growing pressure in her bladder, adding the fear that she would wet herself in front of these horrible degenerates.

Hutton removed his hand from her pussy and gestured to the men holding her ankles to turn her around. Once again the helpless captive was facing the crew, looking into the faces of these heartless beasts. She moaned in shame, wishing she had her back to them so that she did not have to see their lustful stares. Her body glistened with perspiration, tendrils of auburn hair sticking to her face.

Her discomfort at the sight of the crew was interrupted when at Hutton’s gesture one of the men lifted her left leg and held it out to the side. Now she was standing on only one foot, her weight pulling on the rope connecting her hands to the ring over her head. Her crotch was now spread to the limit, her pussy wide open and juice running down the inside of her leg.

When Hutton drew the riding crop from his belt she shrieked and began to plead and beg.

“Oh, no! No, no, no! Please don’t! You can’t. You wouldn’t. No, please, no! Oh sir, I beg you in the name of all that is holy!” babbled the terrified princess.

The one-eyed pirate only smiled as the men urged him on.

“Do it, Jack!”

“Whip her cunt!”

“Give her the crop right on that tight pussy, Cap!”

The Duchess de Montfort was sobbing and yanking at the ropes over her head, trying desperately to get loose before he hit her on the unbearably tender flesh of her young pussy. He took his time, flicking the short whip through the air, causing it to make a swishing noise and drawing out her anticipation of the pain to come. When he landing a quick smack on her thigh she shrieked, thinking he was going to hit her pussy. The men laughed at her screams, and Hutton delayed the inevitable moment by striking several blows on her thighs and bouncing breasts, drawing out her torment to the delight of the pirate crew.

The sweating, crying young woman was near hysteria when Hutton finally did it. The crop whistled through the air and the leather tip struck the open flesh of her swollen pussy with a wet smack. Her shrieks rolled over the blue water surrounding the ship, mixed with the cheers of the sadistic crew.

“Again. Cap.”

“Yeah, give her another.”

“OH GOD NO!” screamed the tormented Duchess as the crop whistled again and made contact with her abused pussy flesh, hitting her erect clit and sending a jolt of electricity through her nervous system.

When the demonic pirate struck the third time, the poor girl lost control of her bladder. As the piss arced from between her spread legs in a shimmering yellow stream the men howled with laughter, pointing and applauding. Some of them made obscene barking noises, as if she was a bitch dog. As the hot liquid ran down her leg and splashed onto the deck of the pirate ship she knew her humiliation was complete. A few of the filthy bastards even stuck out their hands to try to catch some of the water, rubbing it on the beautiful woman’s leg.

As her raised left leg was released Therese sagged in her bonds, completely defeated and degraded. She hung from her bound arms, knees bent. A trickle of saliva ran over her full lower lip and down her noble chin. Her thighs were wet with her own piss. And the worst part of it was that through the haze of humiliation and pain, the beautiful French duchess was dimly aware that she desired nothing more than to have one of these horrible men, it didn’t even matter who, shove his hard cock into her swollen, soaked pussy and fuck her to a screaming orgasm right in front of the whole vile crew. A faint whisper came from her slack lips, and Hutton leaned closer.

“I can’t hear you, wench, speak louder,” he said.

In a small voice, hoarse from screaming, she whispered again, “Baisez-moi.”

“What? Louder, slut!”

“S’il te plait, baisez-moi!” croaked the conquered beauty. “Take me! Please fuck me!”

Cheers and howls of laughter rang out from the crew as they heard the words of abject surrender from the beaten girl. Hutton pressed his hand against her dripping pussy and roughly rubbed the tender flesh. She gasped, voluntarily spreading her legs to give him access to her throbbing sex flesh.

“Well, lads, I told you she was a cannon when you get her started.” Then, as he wiped his wet hand on her disheveled hair he said, “Fret not, Lady. You’ll have plenty of cocks to enjoy before we reach our next port.”

“Clean her up and take her below, Davy. Put her in a cell. We’ll get back to her when we’re well under way, men.”

There were groans of disappointment from the excited crowd, but they knew the wisdom of putting some sea behind them in case Renoir decided to come after his property. They hadn’t been ordered to their stations yet, so they lingered to watch Davy wash the quivering beauty. One of the men brought over a full water bucket. Reaching in, Davy lifted a sea sponge heavy with water and squeezed it out over her chest. Therese gasped as the cool water flowed over her throbbing breasts and down her belly. It soothed her flushed skin, and she welcomed the relief as he began to wash her from the neck down. He sponged water onto her shoulders, breasts and back, rubbing her down like an animal. He stroked the sponge firmly over her fevered body, rubbing it over her thighs and between her legs. Finally he lifted the bucket and poured the water over her head, rinsing her off and drenching her long auburn hair.

Two: Below Deck

As the First Mate barked orders and the men scrambled to set sail, Davy cut the ropes holding Therese’s arms. He caught her around the waist as she sagged, and wrapping a blanket around her he hefted the trembling princess over his shoulder, her succulent bottom in the air.

Lifting the hatch he made his way below decks, and as he stepped off the ladder and into a narrow corridor with her still over his shoulder, he could not resist taking a moment to fondle her sweet behind. Slipping his hand under the blanket he squeezed the lush cheeks, running his fingers along the crack, over her ass pucker and down between the wet lips of her shaved pussy. The captive girl moaned as he played with her slit, pummeling her clit and teasing the entrance to her tight hole. He slipped his finger into the slippery channel, and she surprised him by opening her legs wider in response.