The Black Hart

It was too much to endure. He would sink no lower, not even at the cost of his life. Enough was enough.

He stood and took a moment to compose himself before making his way to the Captain's cabin. A knock at the door was followed by a challenge. "Who is it?"

"John," he replied.

"Come in, Gentleman," deGruyt called. "What of our dove?" he asked as John entered and took a seat.

John tossed the sheet of paper onto deGruyt's desk. "It's as she said. Her kingdom is about to be invaded and she warns them of where the fleet is so they might attack it at harbor."

deGruyt read the paper, twice, and then set it aside. "It's a pity we can't use this. By the time we make Freeport the information will have no value."

John nodded. "But she does. Her family is wealthy and will pay very well for her. They'll also react poorly if she is damaged. Very poorly, deGruyt. They have the means to hunt us all down and kill us. Hard deaths."

deGruyt chuckled. "And hasn't every monarch along this damned sea been trying to do the same for the past five years? You worry too much."

"Captain, on my tarnished soul I swear to you, this woman is our doom if we harm a hair on her. She's worth a fortune alive and unhurt," John said earnestly.

"You worry too much," deGruyt repeated. "We'll not take anything she doesn't have plenty off and sell her back to her family better than we took her. More experienced, for certain."

John wanted to throttle the man. His arrogance was intolerable and John was no stranger to arrogance. To do so would have been a challenge to deGruyt's authority and there were very specific rules that governed when it was acceptable to do that. Now, was not the time.

"As you say, Captain," he managed. "And her ship?"

"The sailing master will take her to Freeport. Is already aboard and making sail, as it happens. A fast ship and a port to make? The bastard's in heaven," deGruyt explained.

"And the woman?" John asked.

"We'll turn her over to the crew once we're well underway," deGruyt replied.

"In the morning, perhaps? We can bring her up on deck and keep an eye on them," he suggested.

deGruyt chuckled. "Want her to yourself for the night do you? Well, as I said, it's nothing she doesn't have plenty of. And we'd not have taken them but for your plan. Have at her, Gentleman."

************

John paused in the passageway and took a breath before entering. Cassandra had closed her eyes and shifted her position slightly. She was leaned to her right and her body was laid out before him. Once again his eyes took her in. Her eyes opened slowly and regarded him.

"I was trying to sleep," she said.

John laughed. "You're a cool one."

"And what else might I do?" she asked.

John shrugged, unable to offer another solution. "I brought some food. Do you need the pot first?"

She hesitated. "Yes."

John set the plate and cup on the floor and untied the bindings at Cassandra's throat and legs. He pulled the chamber pot out and stepped back.

"Are you going to give me some privacy?" she asked.

"No. I respect you far too much," he replied.

"And you enjoy making me do this while you watch," she accused.

"And that," he agreed and then was silent.

It took Cassandra fully a minute to work up the courage to squat over the pot and relieve herself. She kept her eyes away from his, conscious that his were upon her. When she was finished she hesitated.

"Done?" he asked.

"Are there..? How?" she started and then was startled as he used a rag to wipe her bottom clean, dropping it into the pot when he was finished.

"Sit on the bed," he directed as he used the washbowl to clean his hands.

She sat gingerly, her eyes drawn to the door.

"And where would you go?" he asked as he retrieved the food and drink from the floor.

"Nowhere," she said bitterly.

He dipped a piece of biscuit in the water and held it there.

"Where would you go if you could?" he asked.

"Southport," she replied.

"I can get you there," he said.

Her eyes opened wide in surprise. "How? When?" she demanded.

"In a boat. Tomorrow night," he replied.

"Why?" she asked.

John sighed. "I owe your uncle Mordecai my life," he said.

She stared at him.

"I wasn't always a pirate," he offered. "Though unwonted honesty compels me to admit I've always been a bastard and a rapist. Look you, I was drinking in the Oiled Wench when... well, no names. A woman came up to me. She was obviously quality. There's a certain type that likes to slum the disreputable taverns. Sat in my lap. Knew my name. And that's all I knew of her. But she wanted to play. So I took her to a place where we might, I tied her up, I stripped her down, and she cried foul and ordered me to desist." He paused, his eyes sliding away from hers for a moment before coming back. "I did not. I thought it part of the play at the time. I'll confess it would not have mattered had I understood her to speak only the truth. In any event, she had friends at court. Family. People Turos could not ignore. Or placate. So there was a trial, a branding, and, but for your uncle, there would have been a hanging."

"Why would my uncle spare the life of a rapist?" she asked in confused tones.

"I'd worked with him a time or two. His people, really. It was convenient to have an officer in the King's Guard available if the situation demanded it." He shrugged. "Trifles really. All in the service of the King."

"So you'll repay him? My life for yours?"

"If you like. Me? I can't bear to betray Mordecai in this fashion. I'll not deliver his niece into slavery."

"What do you plan?" she asked eagerly.

"The crew will be dead drunk tomorrow night. I can sabotage the rudder and we can steal the longboat. I think we'll have enough headstart to make Southport before they catch us. We don't have to make it all the way, in any case. Once we're close enough to Southport's patrols they'll give up the chase. I hope. It might all end with pistols in our mouths. I won't be taken captive by this lot."

"Why will they be drunk?" Cassandra asked.

John hesitated.

"Oh," she said.

"Yes. The captain will throw you to the crew tomorrow morning," he stated.

"I'm to be a party favor."

John nodded.

"It will be bad," she stated.

John nodded again. "I've a little oil. Clove and cinnamon. I'll lube you up before I take you on deck. It will help. Some. You've only to make it through the day and then escape," he offered.

"What will...? More of what the Captain tricked me into doing?" she asked.

John took a breath. "Nothing so soft. They'll rape you. Every orifice. Two or more at a time."

"Oh."

John didn't know what to say and so said nothing.

"And there's nothing...?"

"Short of killing deGruyt and taking command there's damn all. And I'd try that but the crew would kill me. The articles are strict," he said.

Cassandra was quiet for several minutes and John followed her suit.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked.

"Do what?" he replied, confused.

"To make... it easier. Tomorrow," she elaborated.

"Oh. Well. Uh. Don't fight them. They'll just restrain you and get violent. More violent. I'll make sure your hands are tied in front of you. If you take control you can use your mouth and hands together to avoid the worst. And give them a show. Moan when they use... when they fuck your cunt. Encourage them there so they aren't tempted to use your asshole. There's no preparing for ass rape and it hurts."

Cassandra was startled for a moment. The man's words seemed to convey the idea that he'd personally experienced such an assault. It was strange to think that her captor had once been helpless himself. Strange, and a useless thought. She needed to focus.

"Do what with my hands?" she asked.

"Look you, don't wait for them to come to you. Pick one with his dick out and go to him. Grab his cock with your hands and then put your mouth on him. Use your hands well and he can't push it back into your throat. Do a good job and he won't even think about it," John explained.

"Use them how?" she demanded.

"Stroke. Caress. Fondle his balls," John said, some exasperation leaking into his words.

"I've never done that," Cassandra shot back, "so I'll thank you not to take that tone with me. Stroke how?"

John shook his head. "You're a smart lass, you'll make do," he said.

"No. Show me. Teach me," she ordered.

"You're mad!"

"I'm not. I need to make it through the day tomorrow and I've never done this. You want to help me? Then help me!" she said.

"This is not a road you wish to set out upon," he said quietly.

"No, it's not," she agreed. "But it's the road we have to walk. Are you going to help me or not? Please," she added.

John set the food down and stood up, hands unbuttoning the flap at the front of his garment. With some difficulty he hauled out his stiff cock.

Cassandra pulled back from it, her eyes widening somewhat and her body shifting as she looked at it from two sides.

"They're like breasts, then? Each a bit different?"

"Are you trying to say you haven't seen many?" John asked.

Cassandra looked away before replying. "Two," she said. "Yours and your Captain's."

"Oh, then you've never...."

"No," she flatly replied.

"Well, this one is rather typical. I flatter myself that it's a little larger than most, but not unusually so. You have the glans, the foreskin, the shaft, and the testicles. The most important thing to remember is to take control," he instructed.

"My hands?" she prompted.

"Ah, yes." He stepped to the side and carefully unbound her hands, rebinding them before her. "There. I've changed the knot to give you some little distance between your wrists so you might use them better. Grab a hold."

She hesitated for a moment and then seized his cock in both hands.

"So?" she asked.

"Thusly," he agreed. "The glans is the most sensitive portion and where you will focus the attentions of your mouth. With your hands you'll stroke the shaft."

She lightly and gently moved her hands up and down his member, eyes meeting his, questioning.

"That would be entirely satisfactory if we were lovers making a night of our pleasure," he said. "You're trying to survive a gang rape. Firm grip, stroke with authority."

She altered her motion, face set in a determined frown, and then looked up searching for his approval.

"Better," he allowed. "Now stop. Once you have a hold of his cock do not let go. For... instructional purposes we'll begin again. The cock may not be fully hard and, in any event, you may wish to ensure the glans is clean. Spit on your hand. Do it," he said, in response to her puzzled expression.

"Now grab the cock and the head with your dry hand. Slide the foreskin back. Slide your wet hand over the head and down onto the shaft. As clean as you'll get," he finished as she followed along.

"Take the glans in your mouth," he ordered somewhat breathlessly. His chest felt tight.

She licked her lips once and then opened them, sliding them across his flesh and taking his knob into her warm mouth.

"Just so," he allowed, swallowing and trying to find his breath. "Do not use your teeth. At all. While a skillful.... practitioner might gently use them to good effect you are not such a person and your audience might react poorly. Some of them are experienced rapists and will fear that you might bite them."

"Well they should," she stated after pulling her mouth away from him. Her hands retained a firm grip upon him.

"If they think you're a biter they'll knock your teeth out," he informed her. "And then they'll rape your bleeding mouth. If you must, steel your determination with thoughts of what horrors your uncle will inflict upon them once you have escaped."

"No teeth," Cassandra stated. "My tongue then?"

"Yes. The glans is somewhat akin to your clitoris..." he began.

"You know about the clitoris?" she asked in shock.

"Yes, of course. I'm not a barbarian." He thought about that for a moment and then amended his statement. "I have a deep appreciation of the female body and a moderately educated knowledge of it. But never you mind that for now. The glans, your tongue. Keep the glans in your mouth at all times and bob your head back and forth, let it go deeper and then come shallow."

She began tentatively, slowly, and John simply waited, allowing her to progress at her own comfort.

"And the hands," he instructed. "Stroke in concert." He tried to relax and find a dispassionate place of serenity from which to observe and instruct. But it simply wasn't possible. She was naked and bound, her head bent to his pleasure and her hands so intimate upon him. He found her unutterably lovely and nearly unbearably desirable. It took all his self control to speak at all.

"Very... good. Very. Now, to finish them quickly add the show. Wiggle your bottom and moan. Pretend to find a tremendous pleasure in the act. And when you think the man is close to his finish, gently grab his balls with one hand."

Cassandra pulled her mouth away from him, licking her lips to clear the saliva from them. "Moan?" she asked.

"In pleasure. Faux pleasure," he amplified. "Men, even rapists, draw a satisfaction from the idea that they have inflicted pleasure upon a woman. It's a complicated matter. If you are able to deceive them in this matter then they will finish rapidly. Which is your goal."

She frowned. "I'm not sure... I've no experience of that at all."

John's mind was filled with exquisite, lewd visions. Fanciful rationalizations zipped through his consciousness.

"We shall have to remedy this," he stated.

"How?" she asked and then bit her lip, her eyes narrowing as she stared at him in dawning realization. "No."

"But yes," he replied, kneeling suddenly and pulling his cock from her inexperienced hands. He reached behind her to grasp her ass, pulling her forward hard. "This is the road," he stated and then brought his lips to hers.

He was gratified to find her moist as he kissed her, soft, puffy lips protruding slightly from the down between her thighs. His tongue lapped roughly at her, bottom to top and he pressed his face hard against her as her thighs tried to close upon him and her hands grasped his hair and pulled at it.

"You villain!" she cried.

He pulled her ass off the narrow bunk, dumping her onto her back, banging her head hard against the bulkhead. It disoriented her and he applied himself to his task, tongue parting her folds and questing for her clitoris, stroking the sides of her hood, pushing it back.

"I'll stake you," she promised, panting, "I'll stake you and whip you!"

He ignored her, lost in the taste and smell and feel of her, her ass in his hands and her moisture on his lips and chin.

"Oooh," she moaned.

He smiled into her flesh and pulled back enough to speak. "Just so," he said.

"You're...! You! Villain!" she spat out.

"Just so," he allowed and bent himself again to her. He took his time, enjoying this treasure, knowing that he had sealed his death warrant by this action. When, at last, she was openly panting and biting back her moans he sucked upon her clit, tongue rough upon it, and she bucked in his hands and trembled. He savored it, carefully prolonging her descent from the peak of pleasure. When at last he decided she was finished he carefully shifted her sideways, setting her lush ass back upon the bunk and sat down upon the edge of it, looking down at her.

She flashed a breathless, angry look at him before she found her focus again.

"Will there be much of that tomorrow?" she asked.

"I feel safe in declaring there will be none of that tomorrow. They will have no care for your pleasure, only their own," he answered her. His hand stroked between her thighs and she trembled, thighs parting slightly. He took advantage of this and slid a finger inside her. She gasped.

"There may, perhaps, be some of this tomorrow. Some of the crew might take it into their mind to humiliate you manually. Give them what they want. Avert your eyes at first. They'll be rough and uncomfortable. Bite your lip. Swallow. Then gasp. Pretend they have broken you. Convince them they have uncovered the wanton soul they believe all women possess. Meet their eyes. Leave your lips parted. Pant. Move your hips upon their hand, press closer to them. And when you judge the time right pretend to climax as you just did."

His finger moved within her as he spoke, the pad of his fingertip methodically stroking the walls of her wet sex, pressing firmly against her. She squirmed reluctantly and her eyes wavered, trying to meet his gaze but occasionally failing.

He pulled back and then slid another finger inside her and resumed his stroking.

"Why?" she asked, breathlessly.

"To stretch you out. Tomorrow they will be... they'll be animals. Some of the idiots will take delight in causing you pain. Once you know those make certain to give them what they want. Make them believe they cause you more pain than they do," he cautioned.

"Why? Why do they delight in my pain?" she asked, hips moving, hands clenching.

"Why do I delight in your pleasure?" he countered. "They do."

"Why do you delight in inflicting pleasure upon me?" she pursued, unwilling to let the matter drop.

His fingers paused and he placed his thumb upon her clitoris. She jumped at that, her body tensing. He held it still and, after a long moment, she moved her hips to grind herself against the digit.

"Why does the sun rise? I simply do."

He reached out with his free hand to stroke her breast, fingers gently squeezing, pulling across her soft flesh, up and over to lightly pinch her nipple. Her eyes closed and her back arched and he stroked his fingers inside her. He saw the flush building on her chest and her heartbeat quickening and he pursued her climax ruthlessly, hands busy upon and within her helpless body. He smiled when she cried out again and then, slowly, put a third finger inside her and slowly and gently began to stroke.

"You are a villain and a beast," she stated.

"I am," he replied.

"You hold a very low opinion of yourself," she said.

The accusation caught him off guard and he paused, froze.

"Yes. Should I not? You are a naked captive being raped in a pirate ship because of me. And you are merely one of many. I have raped and murdered and damned my soul in the service of... a monster. I have become a monster. Should I be proud of this?"

His fingers were nearly uncomfortable, nearly pleasurable. She felt as though she might drown in the sensations he forced upon her and could not think clearly about what was happening to her. But this seemed important to her goal.

"Turos?" she asked.

The mere mention of the name flashed anger across his face and she could feel his fingers curl inside her before his body froze and his skillful groping ceased.

"Yes," he said. "Turos. Who raped and murdered to maintain his throne. Or had it done for him when circumstances prevented him from doing the deeds himself. Or when the whim took him."

Cassandra had heard those rumors. Her family had merely said that Turos was the best possible ruler at the time. She understood that he was not perfect. It was different to hear the rumors from someone who apparently had firsthand knowledge of the subject. But it didn't change her mind. Her goals, and her loyalties, remained. The house of Howell served the kingdom.

"What else?" she asked.

John started, her question pulling him out of visions of his personal hell. "What else?" he repeated.

"Tomorrow. I shall have to satisfy them orally. I can expect to be groped. And?"

"Proper rape," he replied. "They're going to try to bend you over the capstan. Don't let them. Once there they will restrain you and you will lose all your advantages. You'll have to take control."