Misty Dawn & The Raven Ch. 10

Dawn forced herself to turn away from the door to Charles' cabin. Part of her wanted to eaves drop upon the heated exchange between Olivia and Charles, she was sure would erupt immediately. Knowing Charles' wrath she turned away, confident that she would see the end result shortly. Confident too, that Charles would have the woman put into her place, guest, or no!

The deck was full of activity as the Raven was changing course, Fazul was at the forecastle, a glass raised to his eye, fixed upon something on the horizon. Dawn quietly stepped up the stairs and padded up behind the massive man. "Sultan's Girl," Fazul said warmly without turning around, "I see they have business, and have pressed you out, nay?"

"Aye, Fazul, they have indeed," Dawn said as she strained her eyes at the distant dark shape on the horizon. It would appear to be a ship, but from here, she could only guess. "What is that, Fazul? Are we about to attack another ship?" Dawn inquired. Fazul was the only one she dared speak so frankly to. The rest of Charles' thieves almost seemed to envy her, and Charles' personality did not lend well to answering her inquiries.

A meaty hand slowly passed her the glass, "That is a ship Sultan's Girl, wounded it is too; but as to whether we attack it or not remains to be seen." Dawn gently accepted the glass glancing up at the giant's profile as she did. His answer only left her more questions, but she felt that his answer was complete as he could make it, never the less.

Dawn clumsily lifted the glass to a gray-green eye. Distant waves became huge and detailed in an instant. Then the sky flashed to her brain from the round perception, surrounded by darkness that was her eye. Her head began to swim with her new sight. Suddenly a great powerful arm steadied her shoulders, catching her before she fell in her disoriented state. "Here, Sultan's Girl," Fazul said with a bemused smile, spread your legs, keep the deck under you." Dawn felt a giant hand pushing outward on her inner thigh; she inhaled with a bit of surprise. The touch of the eunuch had caught her completely off-guard. She was always wary of the hands and eyes of Charles' men. Though none had dared touch her, she felt the heat of lust from their long stares at every turn. She giggled to herself as he withdrew his hand. His touch had electrified her soul, and yet that was the only the caress of a friendly teacher. Dawn felt her cheeks gather a subtle glow, "Thank you, Fazul," she said with a smile.

Fazul gave her a nod of his massive head in response before helping her lift the glass to her eye. He took her tiny hands in his and maneuvered them to appropriate spots on the shaft of the glass. Then slowly he led her towards the ship on the horizon. Dawn focused slowly, Fazul's hands left hers, and she stood there, her stance that of a seasoned seaman. The slow movement under Fazul's guidance had kept her head for swimming, her feet spread even with her shoulders kept her balance above the waves. As her gray-green eye scanned a disheveled deck.

Rigging was swinging loose in spots, as if they were but massive clothes lines snapped in a sudden blow. A couple of the sails looked limp, and were torn in pieces. Beneath their frustrated flapping on the wind, she found two men in a circle of many. One had a cutlass raised high; he was shouting something beneath his thin mustache. The man to his left was shorter and stouter, with a ruddy complexion; he kept glancing anxiously at the loud man with the cutlass. The rest of the crew seemed to be whispering amongst themselves, awkwardly. Almost like what she had heard the court of parliament would look like, with the exception of setting and dress. She wondered what the thin mustached man was shouting about as she lowered the glass and offered it back to Fazul. "Why, aren't they repairing their ship, Fazul?" She asked naively.

"Sultan's Girl," Fazul said flatly, as he accepted the glass, "it would seem they are deciding upon a new captain." Dawn tossed her head, ridding her lashes of a wind tossed strand of crimson curl that had fluttered across a gray-green eye as she soaked in Fazul's dispensed knowledge. "The Witch," Fazul said as he raised the glass back to his eye, "it would seem, believes it has lost its mistress, and is choosing a new master. Allah, forbid that it fall to Pierre Duvall." Fazul shook his head and lowered the glass, snapping it to. Dawn's mind ran the name, Pierre Duvall, over in it. She imagined that it belonged to the thin mustached man, but did not ask Fazul to confirm her guess.

Charles' heavy footfalls on the forecastle steps as he leapt up them compelled both Dawn and Fazul to turn to face his approach. "Sultan," Fazul began as he stepped towards them, "I think that Cap..."

Charles cut him off short, "Change course, immediately, and make for Port Royale with all speed, Fazul." Charles cast an informed eye to the skies and snorted at the lack of wind he desired. Dawn caught a twinge of surprise in Fazul's eye as he hesitated a mere heartbeat before bowing. He stepped past Charles and gave the command to change course and put out all the linen. Dawn watched Charles closely. His face was a brew of lust and calculation. She had a feeling she had some part to play in whatever was bubbling behind those cold blue eyes. She lowered her gaze before he noticed her.

Fazul returned and broke Charles hold on the skies with his voice, "Sultan, the order is given," the Raven had already began to spin on the waves as the hands worked to bring Charles' will into reality. Charles nodded once in acknowledgement of the report. "Sultan, there is something I think you should hear in regards to the Witch."

Charles wheeled around and clapped both hands on both of Fazul's shoulders, "Yes, yes, Fazul," Charles grinned merrily, "I know all about it." Fazul fell silent and bowed. Charles smiled a wicked smile into Fazul's eyes before he clapped his friend on the shoulders again as he started again. "Fazul, take Misty Dawn, and round up the insolent one, I will have need of both of them later. Secure them both until I call for them. Stand the crew down as soon as we are set. Get the fire's stoked, the lads may need a hearty supper. I'll be needing all hands later. Olivia and I do not wish to be disturbed." His string of commands complete Charles set back off across the Raven's deck. The Machiavellian look of thought returning in a flood to his face as he vanished from the forecastle quickly as he came.

Fazul wiped the beaded sweat from his tattooed dome with a beefy palm and shook his head. As you wish, Sultan," he said to the empty air of the forecastle as Charles disappeared across the deck. He slowly turned to Dawn, bowing slightly he held out a large hand, "You must accompany me, Sultan's Girl," he said as warmly as he could.

"Of course, Fazul," Dawn said quickly. She was consumed with curiosity over the Charles' visage. What devil had possessed his mind this day, she knew not. Fazul's hand closed over hers and she followed in his large footsteps as he lead her off the deck. Descending the steep stairs into the bowels of the ship towards the crew's bunks they herd the muffled, nasal voice of Catherine moaning in time to an unknown grunting and creaking. Dawn felt a tingle shooting through her as they approached the door. Catherine's strangled moans were fueling the fire lit by Fazul's hand, fanned by Charles' face, and stoked by her own curiosity. She could feel the fiery dew welling within her as Fazul reached for the door.

Dawn peered around Fazul's girth as the door opened, revealing Catherine swinging prone across a hammock. Her wrists were bound behind her back and she had a dirty bit of rag tied tight between her lips. A sailor, sunk deep within her cove, was propelling her forward with crushing thrusts. Every blow sending Catherine swinging out to the tip of his cock, the ropes of the hammock would bring her crashing back to full impalement in a smooth glide.

Catherine felt the tight mesh of the hammock biting her breasts at every motion of the hammock, her nipples cutting through the stagnant air of the cramped room from where they poked through the webbing of the swing. She moaned and grunted at every thrust, and every return. Her quim fevered, all but begged for the next filling swoop, and propelling thrust. She bit hard on the gag between her teeth, and clenched her gates hard upon the rigid shaft as she consumed it, more from her own need than the mechanics of her condition.

Gaspard slammed true as the door opened, the cinching of Catherine's sweet pussy and the shock of being disturbed, caused his cock to twitch violently. His last thrust was so strong that Catherine screamed into he rag as she was sent over the edge of desire, propelled off the end of Gaspard's cock. She felt the sticky heat landing in tiny scattered puddles on the crests of her ass, searing her flesh as they landed with lust, causing a secondary eruption deep within her depths. She gasped and panted in hard, strangled breaths into the gag.

Fazul rolled his large eyes and muttered something in his melodious language as he ducked through the low doorway. "Gaspard," Fazul said in a commanding tone as Catherine swung back to rest against Gaspard's folding spike, "Captain's orders, this one is to come with me until further notice." Catherine lifted her half closed eyes in the direction of the large man's voice, still panting hotly against the gag as her body trembled in post explosion bliss. Dawn's gray-green eyes sparkled as she peered into the small room. The site of Catherine suspended so was overwhelming. Suddenly she longed for Charles to cash in his large canopied bed for a common sailors fishing net hammock, a chill of heat ran up her spine as she looked on.

"Aye," Gaspard gasped slowly. He slapped Catherine's ass hard as he backed away, "I be'in' havin' me fill o' 'er, Fazul." Fazul caught out of the corner of his eye Catherine lift her rosy imprinted cheek in tiny pursuit of Gaspard's calloused, greasy hand. To this he lifted an eyebrow, even as she whimpered nasally into the gag. He walked boldly into the room and lifted her down from the hammock. Her legs were unsteady and he had to support her, a treelike limb through one of her still bound arms as he led her out of the room. With both women in tow, he led them deeper into the Raven's bowels.

*****

Time passed with anxious, brutal slowness. Neither Dawn nor Catherine spoke to one another, the lapping of the sea on the curved wall of the hold rhythmically hypnotized them both. Catherine was so exhausted from her recent usages that she was lulled asleep, her head leaning heavily onto Dawn's shoulder. Dawn smiled unseen in the darkness as the warmth of Catherine's hair upon her bare shoulder. She leaned her crimson locks into Catherine's head and closed her gray-green eyes.

The door was pulled wide with a rousing creak. After waiting for sleep for what seemed like hours, Dawn and Catherine both felt as if they had barely closed their eyes when the blinding glow of a lantern shone in on them. "The Cap'n be callin' for ye lot," Robbins slurred as he pushed into the cell. He roughly yanked Catherine by the hair out the door and Dawn shuffled quickly to follow, squinting as she adjusted the light, she followed the repugnant Robbins drunkenly bobbing lantern and Catherine's stifled cries at his treatment of her hair.

The rough-hewn stair flew beneath her bare feet as she padded quickly after the escaping Robbins. He seemed in a completely foul mood, inspired by an exceptional amount of rum that he had spent the entire day consuming. Dawn was trying to keep pace as they broke topside. Dawn was amazed; the entire crew seemed to be gathered. A chill ran through her body as her back reminded her of the last night the crew had been gathered. "What the hell has that fool-woman done now?" Dawn hissed under her breath, thankful for Catherine's repeated squawks to cover her own dismay.

Robbins led Catherine by the hair to the center of the ship, Dawn stepped up behind them both, glancing around cautiously for Charles; but there was no sign. The crew began to form a broad circle and passing tobacco for smoldering pipes amongst themselves around Dawn and Catherine. Robbins scoffed as he pulled Catherine to her knees by the hair, "Ye lot wait 'ere," he ordered, his voice ringing both self-satisfied command and the stench of drink.

Dawn knelt beside Catherine; in the fashion, that Olivia had shown her to do, hoping that it might appease some of Charles' wrath when he chose to appear. A rustle of encouragement rose with a murmur from the crew of the Raven as she assumed the position. Catherine was more haphazard, in her kneeling, her still present gag, and bonds adding to her untutored dishevelment. Robbins had left her face covered with her brown hair. She did nothing to dislodge it, as if trying to use her hair as a mask or a shield from what awaited her.

Dawn watched as Fazul parted the crowd for a pair of pirates who carried a long low table which they plunked down unceremoniously before her and Catherine. Catherine seemed to shudder at the thump it made on the stout deck of the Raven. Dawn's eyes flashed in the starlight, her mind was running like a pack of wolves on the hunt, slowly her mind's racing was churning the forge between her widened thighs as her curiosity burned through her core. She breathed to Catherine's ear, "What does he have in mind this night?" She did not expect an answer, but she had to voice in a whisper what was a roaring chorus in her head.

The crowd parted again and Charles pushed his way through, a rolled parchment in one hand. His blue eyes slowly scanned over Catherine and Dawn. She bit the inside of her bottom lips as he tilted his head in appreciation at her posture. She beamed deep inside at his unspoken approval. Her nether lips began to redden and glisten in the starlight despite herself.

Charles leapt upon the table and hoisted the parchment over his head, "Me, mates," he shouted quieting the crowd. As his gang of cutthroats lent their ears and silence to their captain Charles continued, "Gentlemen, ye all know well enough, that we are carrying the captain of the Witch aboard with us. However, the mistress of that good ship has seemed to have fallen upon more ill-luck than a mere swim in a storm."

Charles let his words filter through the rum for a moment before continuing. "It would seem that mistress Olivia has a business proposition for us, me hardies. She requires our aid in her time of need." A murmur of doubt ran through the crowd, they knew the moment the Raven changed course from the Witch, that Olivia had lost her ship. The prospect of attacking a well-manned and gunned ship for a woman with nothing to gain for themselves was in fact folly. "Why not attack and seize a fort o' killer bees?" A rum sodden voice called back from the crowd.

"Well, master Robbins," Charles retorted, slowly uncoiling the parchment, "we have a bargain. Signed by her hand, mind. Captain Olivia is going to show you cowardly lubbers what it takes to be a captain. She has agreed to take you all, this very night. Not only that, but for every time you lot can creak her timbers, she will take one lash, and pay ten pieces of eight to you, whence we hand her back her ship." Charles coolly regarded the parchment as his crew became as restless as whirlpool. He knew as they did that she had a vast fist and, would have to dig into it deeply if they could live up to her challenge. Charles knew that every man on this deck had been charting her pleasures ever since she emerged from his cabin.

He shouted over the roar of wave and raised voices, "Also, m'lads, I get no share of that gold. We have a special arrangement between captains for my prize." The non-mathematically inclined brains of his men could even comprehend the profits to be had in having Olivia with the last announcement. A cheer rose from the darkness of the sea.

Charles' eyes twinkled like the devil's in the starlight, as his men shouted amongst themselves. He turned and looked deep into Catherine's eyes. "Now, m'pet is where you pair come into the bargain. For it to be worth my while, I have wagered your flesh against hers. Whilst my men plunder her for all they're worth, she will be digging your gold," He pointed a finger at Catherine's nose. "If you my lass, come before she, with a randy sailor in her quim, you receive a lash. If you hold out until she has spent she takes the blow." Catherine's pussy throbbed and sweated pure adrenaline, she almost came right there at his words. He was risking her control for his share. She was astonished and overwhelmed. Her confidence was quaking, as she knew she could not repress her own lusts forever.

Charles whipped some of the hair from Catherine's face, "You, my pretty, had better do well!" he cooed to her. Turning to Dawn slowly, "You, lass, shall be the quartermaster of punishment in our little game." Catherine's eyes sparkled. The hatred and awoken lust that she never knew existed were welling up inside her and her fear was departing. Catherine was fuming; the thought of being struck by her own servant girl was too much for her to take. Her teeth clenched over the gag, as if it were Charles' throat.

Dawn's gray-green eyes flashed and her pussy trembled with the intoxicant of power. Her mouth went dry and she looked up at Charles and said a voiceless, "Thank you, my captain," before swallowing hard. Fazul came over and helped dawn to her feet. He placed a heavy coil of leather into her trembling hand. She stared dumbfounded at it. Almost paralyzed by its power in her hand, Charles kissed the side of her neck as he stepped away.

Fazul pulled Catherine up from the deck and gently laid her out on the table. Her breasts pointing towards the inky sky as he draped her legs over the sides of the table. Catherine was beside herself; she could not believe what was happening to her. As first one ankle then another was lashed to the table leg, she lay there catching a glimpse of Dawn, standing like Lilthe with the lash slowly uncoiling its painful length from her hand.

Charles brought Olivia out. Her head was held high and proud as any captain of the seven seas. She thanked him politely as she leaned over the table and knelt, her arms outstretched, her thighs spread, her knees on the deck, her lips breathing hot onto Catherine's glistening blossom. "Ee am ready!" she announced. With that, a haphazard line formed with much pushing and shoving. Olivia lifted her head and spoke to Catherine, "Ee hopes 'ou ees sloot!" With that, she dove her face into Catherine's lashed open snatch. Catherine bit hard into the gag squeezing her eyes shut. Then she felt the table leap as Olivia's tongue was drove deep into her gaping chasm by a powerful thrust. She felt long fingers squeeze her nipples as bright white teeth closed hard upon her clit. Her pussy burst into flames and she moaned at the gag.

Crack the lash landed fully across Catherine's stomach. Dawn had her eyes darting between the pair of humiliated women, scanning for any sign of weakness, any loss of control. Te lash seemed weightless in her hand, as it bit into Catherine. The sound rang in her ears and shook her, scorching her own cunt.

Catherine instantly snapped her eyes shut, trying to ignore the pain and the tongue that was flicking and darting, then crushing against her with the sailors thrust from behind her attacker. Her tied hands strained to rip out and., and what, hold Olivia's head or pull it away? Her legs tugged at their bonds, and she shook her body. This only fueled the fire within her pussy; she bit her tongue for control.

Olivia closed her eyes, determined to ignore the desperate pounding at her pussy, trying to focus her complete attention upon the small throbbing bundle on the tip of her tongue. She drank thirstily at the woman's juices to keep herself from drowning. Suddenly she felt the hot flow of semen blast her depths. One, she tried not to count and held her eyes shut tight as one bent sword fell from her sheath. It was so soon replaced by another she pulled her head up for breath as she was skewered. Her teeth clenched, just above those honeyed lips that arched to follow her. She shuddered despite herself, as her deepest reaches were pried open roughly. Immediately she felt the hot bite of the leather cross her shoulders and heard the cheer erupt from Charles' bastards. She dove down hard trying to refocus.