Chapter 6: Capitaine Amélie

[Undated entry]
Aboard Black Weasel

AMÉLIE STOOD BESIDE the helmsman, her breasts bared to the sun, the wind in her hair. She laughed out loud. Antoine turned from the helm. He laughed with her.

“It is good, is it not, Amélie?”

She leaned close to him and kissed his cheek. His blue-black skin had the barest hint of sunburn.

“Yes, Antoine.”

She recalled their escape from the town, the connection to Captain Beauchamp’s pirate crew. Well, not exactly pirates. What was certain is that Beauchamp and his crew would go anywhere, deliver anything with their sloop, no questions asked. That included passengers, and through Antoine’s friends, Michél especially, they coordinated Antoine’s jailbreak and their escape when they knew Captain Beauchamp and Black Weasel would be in port.

Amélie stepped behind Antoine. She put her hands on his hips. He growled.

“Not here, Amélie. Not now.”

Amélie pouted.

“Sure?”

Antoine nodded to his right. On the right side of the ship, “starboard,” Amélie knew that much, Captain Beauchamp was surveying the horizon. He turned to the two of them and frowned. Amélie took the hint and stepped back.

“Tonight, Antoine.”

“Tonight, Amélie.”

She walked away, giving her hips a little shimmy as she did so. This was playing with fire, she knew that, but she couldn’t stop herself. She wasn’t really Capitaine Amélie, that was a joke. She was something between Ship’s Mascot Amélie and Fuck Toy Amélie, passed around among Antoine, Gérard and Captain Beauchamp. Sometimes she wished they’d let the crew have a crack at her, but only sometimes. Beauchamp had made it clear that anyone who bothered Amélie would quickly lose his dick, and such were the captain’s promises that no man ever failed to show her the utmost respect. She especially enjoyed being respected by a hard cock, of which there were many in her presence even if she couldn’t have them.

She joined Gérard at the starboard rail.

“Going ashore, Amélie?”

Amélie looked up at Gérard.

“When?”

“Tomorrow morning. Captain Beauchamp says he’s going to put in at Little Tortuga harbor for fresh water and supplies. Fresh hardtack, too, and salted beef.”

“Yes. Will Antoine come?”

“I couldn’t keep him away.”

Amélie smiled. She had plans, and they involved copious amounts of spending by her two lovers. She hoped Antoine and Gérard were up to the job.

They tied up shortly after dawn, and Amélie and her two men were on horses headed out of town within the hour. Amélie had tossed and turned all night, hoping one or both of them would ease her horniness, or that Captain Beauchamp would summon her to his cabin as he had done several times, but it was not to be. This morning would be her revenge, if that’s what you called it.

“Last one in is a bunny!” Amélie shouted after she’d stripped. “Bunny” didn’t actually sound quite right, but she didn’t care. What she wanted to be was chased, and the guys obliged her. She heard them splashing behind her as she ran into the surf. Once more the water caressed her skin, bringing her alive. It was all the more welcome since there was little water for bathing aboard the ship and she was stinky. That was putting it politely, she thought. She smelled. So did the guys, although she absorbed the odor of their maleness and it went directly to her sex. It inflamed her. She didn’t know whether her aroma had the same effect on them.

Amélie turned to the open sea and began to stroke the way Gérard had taught her. She was tempted to open her legs and let the water do its job on her nether parts, but for the moment she let the rhythm calm her and stretch her muscles and let the tightness gradually fall away.

Splashing to her sides told her Antoine and Gérard had caught up with her, and the three of them swam abreast for a little while longer. At last Amélie paused her stroking and turned on her back, floating easily, the sun warming her bare skin. The guys stopped as well, and the three of them linked fingers and let the waves move them from side to side gently.

This was nice, Amélie thought, but she was starting to get the familiar tingle between her legs. It was the water, she thought, or perhaps it was only her natural state. She wondered whether such was the natural state of all women, that they were walking fuck toys for the men in their lives. The men often thought they were, of that she was certain.