The Pirate and the Elf Ch. 01

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A pirate finds unexpected, dangerous, plunder.
3.1k words
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Part 1 of the 2 part series

Updated 06/07/2023
Created 04/20/2015
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-- Chapter 1 – A chance rescue --

The pirate ship fired its last broadside into the guts of the crippled imperial sloop. Grapples were thrown and a long-rehearsed boarding action swung into play, giving the famed pirate Francis Quickblade a sense of enormous pride as he watched his crew bind their ship to what was rumoured to be a vessel with some rich pickings.

Grapeshot cleared the deck and the boarding party followed. The pirates had the numbers, but Francis felt a knot of apprehension when imperial temple knights appeared on deck amongst their target’s defenders. Unnaturally calm warriors, changed by arcane ritual to make them resistant to magic and without emotion, they were and uncommon and unwelcome sight.

It didn't put Francis off completely. They still had the numbers to win, but it wouldn’t be an easy victory. It did confirm that whatever the ship was carrying was valuable however, the empire only sent out templars to fight the ancient magic of the dreaded elves or to protect it’s most valued assets.

He slapped the shoulder of Beren, his first officer. "I'm going over. Can't trust those thieving bastards with whatever's in there," he said, forestalling any complaints about putting himself at risk.

“Those thieving bastards are your crew, sir,” replied the gruff northerner.

A bloody skirmish later, the temple knights were defeated and the pirates had control of the deck. The silent warriors had fought like lions in their heavy armour and Francis had lost far more crew to injury or death than he would if they had only faced sailors and marines. With their most deadly defenders gone the regular sailors were keen to surrender and plead for mercy. Francis was a pirate, but he liked to think he was one of the more reasonable ones, and so ordered his men to accept any surrender.

The Empire was the dominant power in the world, their ships hard pickings, but often lucrative. It was unusual for one so small to be so well defended. It made Francis wonder what or who was onboard. He reasoned that there needed to be some secrecy, otherwise it would have had an escort, but whatever it was it was still important enough for a company of temple knights whose usual place was the front line in the Empire’s holy crusade against the hated fey.

Francis took personal charge of investigating belowdecks. In the hold the victorious pirates found a newly built wooden bulkhead wall, neatly dissecting what should have been the cargo space. The wall had a sturdy door upon which was emblazoned the imperial seal. Despite the battering the ship had received in the battle it seemed undamaged, though that didn't mean that a cannonball hadn't blown through the side of the ship on the other side and wrecked what was inside...

"One of you with me, the rest spread out and search the rest of the ship." he ordered, sure that whatever was behind the door was the real prize and not wanting too many hands stuffing riches into pockets before it could be counted. He checked the door carefully then, realising that is had not been locked, opened it. The inside of a ship was gloomy at best but this compartment was pitch black inside apart from the dim light admitted by the open door. He picked up one of the oil lanterns hanging outside the door and turned up the wick.

Francis heard the noise of chain mail scraping on metal plate before he heard the grunt of his crew-mate. He nearly dropped the lantern as he turned to see the headless corpse slump in a fountain of red blood. Another templar stepped into the light of his lantern.

"Oh fuck!" swore Francis, "another fucking templar!" he cried, though it was to no avail – nobody would hear him over the racket of the looting happening around the ship still.

He drew his rapier as he backed away, the warrior had him trapped. Francis was one of the best swordsmen on the coast. His finesse and skill had earned him the nickname ‘Quickblade’, he could disarm a man in seconds, but he had never duelled a templar one-on-one. They were not men, they were war machines. Whatever rituals they took dedicating themselves to the Empire's god robbed them of humanity. Their single-mindedness in battle that was hard to deny, or defeat. They obeyed orders, they fought to the death. They had no fear.

The Captain dropped the oil lamp and dived, spinning to dodge the expected sword blow which fell wide of its mark. He caught a brief glimpse of another person in the shadows, a bound and hooded figure, but it was in no position to help or hinder and so he concentrated on his immediate threat.

The daunting warrior he faced had the same blank expression, shaved and branded head and the same plate armour as his comrades, decorated with temple seals for the various actions he had taken part in. Francis knew that he wasn't hiding there, they didn't hide, so assumed he was a last resort, guarding the bound figure. Such thoughts were a luxury during a fight to the death however, so he concentrated on survival as the man came at him with his huge longsword, stabbing and swinging with a relentlessness that did not tire.

The Captain’s mind raced. He wouldn't last long in such a confined space if he waited for his crew to muster the strength of arms to rush this monster, calling for help loudly enough to be heard would distract him from fighting for his life.

Attack then. He darted past a hard sword thrust and lashed out with the razor tip of his blade, carving a gauge across the man's face that would have caused any normal man to be debilitated. Instead, a mailed fist grabbed the blade and twisted it, almost wrenching it from the surprised pirate’s grasp. The templar was mutilated, bone and grinning teeth showing where cheek should have been, yet he had hardly flinched.

"Oh for the love of the gods, what is wrong with you bastards.." muttered Francis as he finally gave up on the tug-of-war for his blade and drew a long knife from his belt. Instead of stepping back he stayed close, both of the Templar's hands were busy, one with his own longsword, one still gripping Francis' rapier. Francis jabbed his dagger with the kind of precision and speed that made him an excellent card sharp, right through the Templar's eye and into his head. The warrior stood for what seemed like far too many seconds, before crashing to the floor.

It was all Francis could do to keep himself from joining his dead opponent on the floor as he took a number of deep, ragged breaths, hands on his knees.

Finally he turned and looked around him. No other guards, just the slight figure bound to a sturdy X-shaped oak frame with a rough woollen hood over its head. Francis wasn't sure who or what warranted such precautions, but he wasn't about to take too many risks. He's already taken plenty today.

"Who are you?" he asked, stopping to pick up the lantern and holding it up to closer to the figure. It was a woman, slender but as tall as he. She was wearing a grimy, short sleeved cotton gown that stopped at the thighs. She looked healthy enough and despite her lithe frame he could see taught muscles in her arms and legs, tensed against her bindings. Her skin was so smooth and... He stopped and shook his head with a wry smile; had he been at sea for that long that he was that easily distracted?

"Can you hear me?" he asked, reaching out to touch her shoulder, wondering if the templar that had been set to guard her had killed her when the battle started. She felt warm through the cotton gown and at his touch she moved, writhing slightly, straining at her bonds, arching her back against the wooden cross.

Francis smiled a predatory smile, aroused at the contact. He let his hand wonder down from her shoulder to a pert breast, lingering as his fingertips brushed over a nipple. She twisted and writhed again. He shook his head and withdrew his hand. He was not a typical pirate, he had some honour left, he expected a standard from his crew and he needed to maintain the same standard.

"Ok, I'm going to take your hood off. The templars are dead," he said, attempting to sound reassuring. Slowly he lifted the hood, then he gasped in surprise and took a step backwards.

An elf! One that glared balefully at him with deep golden-yellow eyes, mouth tightly gagged. Francis had never seen one before, though he had heard tales of their wicked ways, their magic, their dark deeds... The only good thing about them was that they had kept the Empire busy for decades, otherwise the fanatics would surely have conquered the whole continent. He blinked, he hadn't expected them to be so.. So achingly beautiful. He was suddenly struck by a desire to possess her. Right then and there.

Was it the world moving, or perhaps simply the ship? Francis squinted, staggered slightly and regained his balance. Then he drew his dagger again and pointed it at her.

"Whatever you're trying to do, stop it now. We've all heard about the glamours you fey witches cast. That's why the temple knights are all made into emotionless monsters isn't it?" he said. He knew that the best course of action would be to leave her where she was. Perhaps even sink the ship. But…

"If the empire thinks you're important enough to keep alive, then perhaps they will be willing to have you returned to them for gold. I've lost too many friends today to leave empty handed."

She averted her gaze at that, as if struck. Then she looked down at the ground. Francis felt his confidence returning. He had let her know who was in charge, so reached out and carefully cut her gag away with his knife.

"Try anything and I'll cut your throat. The crew will protest at leaving you alive as it is. I doubt any of them will have seen an elf before, but we all know about what you do," he warned.

She looked up at him again, her expression was now fearful, rather than defiant. When she spoke her voice was as alien and enchanting as her appearance. Her grasp of the language excellent, but with an accent that Francis could not place. "I am no danger to you my lord. I have little power so far from my Queen."

She pulled against her bonds slightly before speaking again. Francis couldn't help but notice her pert breasts moving behind the thin white cloth as she twisted her body, the outline of her nipples showing clearly in the lamplight.

"You will do as you will, lord. But if you agree to take me back to my people, you will be rewarded with far greater treasures than the Empire could give, and you would not have to keep me bound. I would come willingly," she ventured, looking up and meeting his eyes again.

Francis waggled the dagger at her and raised a dark eyebrow. "Do I look stupid to you? Elves kill humans. They cannot be trusted."

"No,” she shook her head, “we fight the Empire. Before the Empire there was peace. You are not of the Empire, so while my people may be cautious they will not hurt you.

“I am one of the Queens trusted handmaidens, my word carries great weight. You will be safe, you will be rewarded," she pleaded. She ventured a smile and it was as if the sun had risen in the gloomy cabin. Francis wondered how her teeth could be so perfect.

"If you agree to help me, I will give you my word that I will do you no harm. An elf cannot break an oath." she said.

Francis considered the offer. The stories said many things about elves, but the part about oaths seemed to ring true. Many of the older tales spoke of elder folk and their oaths, though their outcomes were seldom happy.

"Well I do have a price on my head in the Empire..." he said, "so dealing with them would be tricky.” It seemed such an easy and obvious decision.

“Swear your oath and I will do my best to return you to your people. Betray me and I'll give you to the crew, trust me when I say that you wouldn't want that."

The elf maiden nodded, solemnly, "I, Melisan, will not seek to escape your custody until you have delivered me to safety. I will use my influence to guarantee safe passage for you when we are in the land of my people."

Francis felt something in the room change. It was as if the simple words of the oath had something more than words behind them. He nodded, satisfied, and crouched down to cut at the bonds at her ankles. As he did he became ever more aware of closeness of her thighs. He wanted to run his hands over that flawless skin, to feel it for himself. He so desperately wanted to explore further... but no, they had an agreement, and so he stood and cut the bonds at her wrists and took a step back, sheathing his knife.

She had clearly been in that position for some time. She winced in pain as she stretched and rubbed the marks on her wrists. She took a step forward and stumbled to her knees. As she did, Francis stepped towards her and caught her shoulders instinctively.

"Are you able to walk?" he asked, concerned, before he caught his breath again. He was close to her now he could smell her, his cock ached in his leather breeches, he almost wished he had not agreed to help her. He took a deep breath and steeled himself.

"Are you still trying to enchant me?" he asked suddenly, accusingly.

The elf looked up at him and shook her head, amused. "No, my lord." she said, before looking at his bulging breeches. "I think that is honest lust. Though if we venture out on deck with you in this condition and with these tight breeches, your crew will think you enchanted and will doubtless want to see me dead regardless."

She reached up and ran her hand over the bulge, fingertips tracing the length of his aching cock. The sudden boldness and contact causing him to gasp, though he didn’t step away. "You know, that's not going to make it go away..." he said.

"No," she replied, "but I do know a quick way to relieve the problem."

Francis watched, dumbstruck, as nimble fingers unlaced his breeches, pulling them down far enough for his cock to bounce free. At first she didn't touch it, bobbing there in front of her. Instead she seemed to examine it with genuine curiosity before gently taking hold of it with her right hand. Francis gasped at the cool touch of her hand, his cock straining with desire.

Slowly she drew her hand down to the base of the shaft before bringing it back to the head, she repeated this some more before cupping his heavy balls with her other hand, looking up at him and smiling at his reaction.

"Not so different from elf males," she whispered, before sliding her hand back down to the base of his cock, keeping it there and gripping a little tighter, causing the pirate to let out a gasp. Francis felt his heart beat faster and his breath get heavier as she moved forward and stuck out a wet pink tongue, gently probing the underside of the tip of his cock. It was almost too much for him to take, he wanted to take her and fuck her, hard. He tensed as he fought to control himself and not jab at her face uncontrollably with his engorged manhood.

Suddenly, his restraint was rewarded as he felt her lips circle the head of his cock, her hot mouth exerting pressure while she sucked in her cheeks and continued to massage the underside of his swollen head with her tongue.

"Oh gods.." murmured Francis, who could no longer resist rocking his hips back and forth. As he did, the elf relaxed her mouth and let his cock slide in deeper, releasing her grip on his balls and cock and instead putting her hands on his hips.

Francis became aware that some of the crew had entered the cabin and stopped behind him, but he didn't care, he was caught in the moment. He heard the gruff voice of his first mate order the men out of the room. "Captain's privilege, fuck off and give him some privacy. If you are lucky you'll get some of your own before the voyage is done."

He'd explain to them in when he was done.. they weren't getting any of this.

It was clear that 'Melisan’ was no shy virgin and she was now pulling his hips toward her and taking the whole length of his cock in long strokes as her head bobbed back and forth. He could feel her lips travelling down his shaft, her tongue writhing along the underside and he could feel the head of his cock against the tightness of her throat. The tension was building up in his loins, his balls tight and ready to blow. He didn't want it to stop, but...

She sensed the change and withdrew, pulling his cock from her mouth with a slurp and leaving it glistening with her saliva. Her hand returned, rubbing his shaft up and down while her tongue circled his head with a motion that tipped him over the edge almost immediately. He cried out and, as soon as he started cumming, she took the head of his cock in her mouth again and started sucking, noisily swallowing every spurt as she worked his cock with her hand, draining him entirely.

When she finally released him she leaned back, still on her knees and apparently as out of breath as he was. A moment later and she was composed, her face a mask as she reached up to gently grasp his spent cock, pausing only to clean it with her mouth, gently licking away the last of the cum oozing from the end, before carefully tucking it away in his breeches and lacing them up again.

Francis realised he was still holding his knife and quickly put it away, almost apologetically. He reached down and helped her to her feet.

"Let's get you to my cabin where you'll be safe and warm." he said, putting a protective arm around her shoulders. As he turned his head away Melisan allowed herself a small smile. She would be in control from now on...

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6 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousabout 6 years ago

please write a chapter 3 would love to read more of this interesting world

AnonymousAnonymousover 8 years ago
Nice one

Too bad. We were getting to the main event and it ends

HurbsterHurbsteralmost 9 years ago
Hmmmmm

Mind break already ?

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 9 years ago
Looking forward to more

As it says, looking forward to more. Hope that things go as interestingly as they appear to be so far :D

JC

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 9 years ago
OH! OH!

I see a lot of mischief from both sides as this story plays out. Two free spirits, personal conflict, many challenges and sex. Looking forward to a wild ride for our heroes.

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