Chapter 1

It was late in the season when we lost two ships down near the Jamaican trade channels. It was one of those situations that start off real promising with a fat merchant ship just waiting to be plucked when all of a sudden two man-of wars broke sail in the leeward quarter and did in Captain Blood and his partner The Black Buccaneer. Both crews were dispatched to "Davey Jones' Locker" with nary a chance to plead for mercy. It was probably a lot more merciful than swinging from the gibbet on the dock at the Governor's Landing.

I was heading up a convoy of black sail sharks from our home base down near the Dutch Antilles when the news was broken to us by a passing fishing sloop out of Santo Domingo looking for fat tuna on the shelf. There were three of us but the smallest was a prize taken recently from a Portuguese captain who surrendered without a fight. I was of a mind to keel-haul the coward but my first mate, Mister Hawkins, being possessed of a cooler head advised keeping him and his entourage safe for ransom sure to be forthcoming as soon as we got word to the right quarters.

Since we hadn't taken much booty in the last month, the crew was beginning to grumble about the problems with the grub and the lack of female companionship. It didn't help that the prize included a Spanish woman of quality who was joining her husband in the New World. She was a fair looking wench with that air of royalty that most pirates love to bring to the edge of humiliating confrontation with the nasty needs of sex-starved buccaneers. I would be overjoyed to be rid of her because she represented a temptation to my men that I might be hard-pressed to restrain.

The unfortunate female's name was Donna Luisa de la Mancha and she claimed connection to the King of Castile. I couldn't care less about her royal connections and was much more interested in how I could get her off my ship without becoming a play-toy for almost forty sex-deprived seafarers. She had a personal maid with her who was almost twenty years her senior but still had a spark of attractiveness that gave pause to a cunt obsessed herd of slobbering bad men who had no liking for authority. The maid was dark of skin and had long black hair that came down to her bustle kissing the tops of her prominent flanks that made most of the crew groan out loud with desire.

When my chief spy amongst the crew, Three Finger Jack came to my cabin and informed me that the men were determined to take one of the wenches down to their quarters and find solace in her fiery depths, I was angry at first but then realized it might be a way to disarm the situation and I gave him a wink to make use of the solidly built maid who could better handle the appetites of my sex-starved crew than the delicately designed Spanish high-born cunt.

I went down to the quarters incognito just to check that they were not causing the slut physical damage and all I heard were her groans of pleasure. It seemed like all was working out without the need of killing one or two of my best men just to prove my authority.

To be on the safe side, I had placed Donna Louisa de la Mancha in my adjacent cabin right next to my private quarters and she knocked on my door to inquire as to the whereabouts of her maid. I was tempted to tell her that the bitch was getting her hind quarters exercised in place of her but I kept mum and just remarked that she was most likely "under the weather" from the recent storm we had weathered with no loss of life or limb.

"I trust all is well with her madam and that she will be up and about shortly."

I failed to add that she would be walking funny for the next two days from repeated expeditions up her backside by my anal-minded buccaneers. Seeing no respite from it, I invited her into my cabin to partake of some fine Spanish wine we had liberated not too long ago from a floundering supply ship bringing the tasty pressings to the new colonies in Florida. The grape growing in the new world was decidedly inferior to the hills of Spain and France for the production of a banner crop.

The woman was far too nervous for logical conversation so I plied her with the drink to loosen her tongue. I fear I went too far and she fell into a swoon from the combination of deep-seated fear and lack of familiarity with excessive intake of spirits. The poor creature was slumped in her chair but not in any semblance of distress. In a spirit of being of assistance, I loosened her bodice and opened her corset merely to insure she had no difficulty in securing oxygen.

At least, that is how I started out my efforts to remove her clothing, but when I came down to the drawers under her petticoats, I confess I lost all thought about giving her succor and concentrated on availing my fingers of her soft sweetly scented flesh. I knew for a fact that she had taken a bath every evening since we had taken her as a prize and her sweet slit was like flowers on a fresh morning in the middle of May. I spent some time exploring every little corner of her cunt noticing that she was not a virgin but had very little experience in taking thick shafts in her vaginal walls. Her pretty little clitoris was a sheer delight for each time I came close she sprinkled my fingers with her female dew like a faucet being turned on without any control.