Swashbuckler's Slave

Swashbuckler’s Slave

By Tyjord

 

 

She stood on the small deck protruding out over the bow of her ship, watching as flames engulfed the second vessel. Screams could be heard despite the distance between the two large sailing ships.  A smile of contentment appeared on her face as she saw the flames engulf the mass of the other ship, and the charred remains of their Jolly Roger float away on a gust of wind.

 

The remainder of her crew, those unlucky enough to stay behind for this excursion, busied themselves with the task of bringing their ship closer to the soon to be lost vessel. As they approached, several of them broke away from their tasks to retrieve the abandoned lifeboat floating nearby. It was an easy, familiar task for them to hook the empty boat, attach the anchoring ropes, and haul it up alongside the larger ship. The task was accomplished without needing to slow the ship as it descended upon the chaotic scene ahead.

 

Another woman approached, standing silently while her captain surveyed the carnage. “Have the signals been given?” She turned her gaze to the newcomer.

 

“Aye, captain! Lady Margaret has signaled that all the crew of the Sea Scavenger are dead and the ship is soon to join them in the depths.”

 

“Excellent. Make haste. I want the rest of our crew plucked from that doomed hunk of

rubbish before their feet get wet.”

 

 “Aye captain! We will be there well before that comes to pass.” With that, the second woman turned away and began barking orders to the rest of the crew.

 

As the ship grew closer, the woman instinctively reached to her belt. She was comforted by the presence of her hand held musket and coiled bullwhip, even though she knew she would have little need for them today. Breathing deeply of the salt air, she kept her eyes on the vessel that was now just several hundred feet away. Scanning its deck, she spotted Lady Margaret quickly, her lithe form moving quickly through the chaos, shouting orders. She smiled again. It was almost comical to see her friend and second in command running about the deck wearing a frilly dress and carrying a cutlass covered in blood. She lifted her hand in greeting as Margaret’s eyes caught hers. The other woman raised her gore-covered weapon in salute then turned and moved back into the jumble of flames, smoke and scurrying female forms. She reappeared moments later and yelled across the

water, “Mistress! We have a surprise for you!” The woman chuckled at the exuberance of her second, and looked forward to whatever surprise would come from their latest conquest.

 

The Sea Scavenger had sunk moments after the last of the women had returned to their own ship, taking the remains of its crew to the ocean’s depths. A group of eight women, all dressed in dirty, torn dresses stood in a huddle as Lady Margaret addressed their captain. “Mistress, all went perfectly. The slobs suspected nothing when they pulled us from the water. At first they anticipated a struggle, but when they saw their advances met with enthusiasm, they dropped their guard completely. It was child’s play dispatching the whole crew in their drunken stupor.”

 

“You have done well, Margaret, as always. Thanks to you and your team, countless other incidents will now be avoided.”

 

“Mistress, with respect, it is your plans that enable us to wipe these dogs from the sea.” The rest of the women cheered in response to the words of Lady Margaret. When the clamor died down, Margaret continued. “I am pleased to report the booty from the Sea Scavenger was far beyond expectations. The wealth we salvaged should prove a tremendous aid to the cause.”

 

“Excellent, Margaret. Every day we come a step closer to ridding the seas of these barbarians. Now, this surprise you mentioned?”

 

“Ah, yes, that.” Margaret motioned to the group of women standing behind them and two came forward dragging the bound and hooded form of a man. The two women pushed their captive to his knees in front of the captain and Lady Margaret. “Do not worry Mistress, he seems quite docile.”

 

The captain looked down at the kneeling prisoner. He was wearing only dirty pants that were torn off just below his knees. His wrists were bound behind him with rough cords commonly found aboard sailing ships. The hood had been improvised from a vegetable sack, and loosely covered his entire head. “Why have you brought a man on board? Was he a member of their crew?”

 

“I think he was their cabin boy, Mistress, or more likely, their slave. We found him on the last pass through the lowest hold. He was in a small locked room, with a cuff and chain running from his ankle to the floorboard. We were going to leave him…”

 

“It is unlike you to give in to the pleadings of a man, Margaret.”

 

“But that’s the strange thing Mistress, he did not beg for help or even ask for mercy. He just looked up at us and smiled.”

 

“How odd,” the captain said, still looking over the kneeling captive.

 

“I thought you would be intrigued, but I will dispatch him immediately if you wish.”

 

“Hmm…not just yet. Remove his hood.” Margaret bent down and undid the rope around the prisoner’s neck holding the improvised hood in place. She plucked it from his head as she stood up once again beside her captain. Upon seeing his face, the captain chuckled. “Not much of a man, is he?” The captive squinted against the harsh daylight, his curly, dirty blonde hair matted against his head, damp from its encasement in the sack. “How old do you think he is, Margaret?”

 

“I would venture no more than nineteen, Mistress.”

 

“Did you ask him?”

 

“No Mistress. With the smoke and flames building, I thought it best to just get out of the hold as quickly as possible.”

 

“Yet you had time to bind and gag him?”

 

“Yes, Mistress. The rope was already in his cell, and I simply used a strip of the old shirt he had been wearing to ensure his silence.”

 

“Efficient as always, Margaret.” The captain looked down at the young man kneeling before her. A dirty strip of cloth had been pulled between his teeth and knotted behind his head, stretching the corners of his mouth into a tight grimace. “Well now, little prisoner, what are we going to do with you?”

 

The boy looked up at the two women, his eyes finally adjusting to the light. He had been in the inky darkness of his cell for so long, the daylight had made him almost blind at first. He saw the woman who had unlocked his ankle cuff, bound him, and pulled him out of his smoke filled cell. She was older than him, though not by much. He guessed she had no more than twenty-two years. She was still wearing the dirty dress, but even its dirty, blood stained appearance could not detract from her own. Her curly locks, glinting a fierce red in the burning sunlight, fell to the middle of her back. They contrasted oddly against her olive tinted smooth skin, giving her an exotic look. She was beautiful, this “Margaret”, even with his limited experience around women, the boy knew that.

 

Standing next to Margaret, the captain of this new vessel was a sight as well. She was tall, and would have been several inches taller than Margaret even had she not been wearing the thigh high leather boots. Above her boots, he could barely make out a pair of form fitting pants, obscured as they were by the boots and the blood red velvet coat she wore. Under the unbuttoned flowing coat, he could make out a pristine white shirt, its ruffles sticking out from her sleeves and chest. Set off against the dark red jacket, her smooth black hair also ended at her mid-back. Although she appeared older than Margaret by quite a few years, she was no less stunning and infinitely more commanding in her presence. The captive shuddered as the sight before him confirmed that he had come to rest on yet another ship of pirates, although this one appeared crewed by only women.

 

“I am Captain Siryn of the Lady Peregrine. You’ve already met Lady Margaret, my first mate. I hope she did not make you too uncomfortable whilst saving your life?” The boy made no sound through his gag in response, but involuntarily twisted his wrists, tightly bound as they were in the rough-hewn rope. “We have a big decision to make, young man. Your fate is in the air and must be decided quickly. You seem docile enough, and I am intrigued by you, but experience tells me I should throw you overboard now.” The boy shuddered at that and quickly averted his eyes to the deck as the two women stared down at him. “However, I shall make that decision after we have finished up with the remains of your former home.”

 

Captain Siryn motioned two women forward. “Take the prisoner below and secure him.”

She turned to Lady Margaret, “and then, after you get cleaned up, show me something of value from that ship.”

 

 

Back in total darkness, the boy wondered if his situation had truly improved any. Granted, he was willing to admit that his current predicament was much better than burning to death while trapped aboard a sinking ship, but, the cramped, aching muscles of his tightly bound body were proving to be a good case to the contrary. He was in another hold, this one even smaller than the last, hogtied with his wrists still bound together behind his back and his ankles pulled roughly up and tied off. The two women who had brought him below decks had been thorough but not cruel. They efficiently ensured his inability to move, then, without removing his gag, left him in the dark. He had heard the telltale sound of a sliding bolt being moved into place and knew, that even if he were untied, there would be no escape from his dank new prison. Struggling had proven useless, so the boy concentrated instead on formulating his plan for survival. He had been a captive, servant, and slave for most of his life, and he knew how to act so that he would remain alive. Or at least he thought he did. This ship, crewed by women, introduced an unknown factor into his survival plans. He had no idea how they were going to react, or what their requirements of him would be.

 

The sound of the bolt sliding back interrupted the boy’s thoughts as the door opened allowing some flickering candlelight to illuminate his tiny cell. He turned his face towards the light, drool from his tightly gagged mouth smearing across the rough boards beneath him. Crouched down in the tiny doorway, her form surrounded by a glowing aura from the candle behind her, the boy saw his rescuer staring at him. He could barely make out any details, but it was obvious that she had changed her clothing. She was now wearing similar garb to that of the captain of the vessel, although he could not make out the coloration of her garments. She said nothing, simply peering at him in the half darkness, looking him over from head to toe. He could not make out her expression, but he doubted it was one of compassion or pity. He decided on a bold move and did not avert his eyes as her gaze settled on his face. Their eyes met for what seemed an eternity before Margaret slammed the door, again locking it shut and plunging the boy back into darkness. He sighed into his gag, wondering if his boldness would get him punished.

 

 

Margaret rushed into the captain’s cabin, as she had on numerous occasions over the years they had sailed together. The noise from the cabin had become loud enough to wake Margaret, and she knew, if it continued, it would begin to wake other members of the crew. She didn’t care about any possible loss of sleep for the crew, her concern, as always, was for the well-being and continued success of her captain. Margaret moved to the bedside and sat down, gently brushing the captain’s damp hair from her eyes as she whispered soothing words to the nightmare plagued woman sleeping before her. She continued stroking her head as she cautiously began increasing the volume of her voice.

 

Suddenly, the captain opened her eyes and jerked up in the bed. Momentarily confused, she glanced wildly around the room until she settled on the comforting face of Margaret seated next to her. Margaret grasped her hand in her own, her concern evident in her strong and reassuring grip. “Another nightmare Mistress? We had gone so long without one…I had hoped they had finally left you in peace.”

 

Captain Siryn sighed, obviously drained from her experience. “Margaret, as always you are by my side in my time of need. Yes, it was another nightmare, although less detailed than in the past. Just horrible images of …”

 

“Mistress, you must move on. It happened so many years ago. There is no reason to relive it anymore. And, let us not forget, you have done so much good as a result of those events.”

 

“Have I, Margaret? Or am I just doing the same thing to other people?”

 

“My Lady, how can you say that? You and your family were innocents. The people we wage war against are guilty of the same types of heinous crimes that you fell victim to. You must never doubt your mission, or your resolve”. Margaret paused for a moment, looking deeply into the other woman’s troubled eyes. “Do you wish to speak of the dream?”

 

“No, Margaret, I don’t believe so. It does not matter. There were no details this time, just screams, flames and water. I no longer even see my family’s faces… may they rest in peace.”

 

“As you wish, Mistress. Try to get some more sleep. I have already ordered our return home. Perhaps we should take a break for a while. We did well with the Sea Scavenger, there are riches enough to last us some time.”

 

“Yes, thank you for that, Margaret. You did well.”

 

“Thank you, Mistress, for allowing me to serve you on board the Lady Peregrine. Sleep well.” Margaret watched as her captain lay back down and closed her eyes. She continued watching until her breathing became deep and regular. Silently she left the cabin, wondering how she was going to save everyone involved from the horrible situation she had created.

 

It was already late morning when Captain Siryn arrived on deck.  Her restless night had left her weak and in need of more sleep. Nobody had come to wake her. Margaret had probably seen to that, as well as everything else. Margaret was as close to a younger sister as the captain would ever have. As close to family as she could hope for after the incident. Siryn considered herself lucky to have found her those years ago. She smiled as she strode across the deck, remembering the bold girl who had dared to cut the strings of her purse as she stood directing orders for the loading of the Lady Peregrine. Siryn had been the first mate at the time and had been impressed by the boldness of the young street urchin she had caught in the act. It hadn’t taken long to convince then captain Rachelle that if the crew, and mission, were to continue, they needed new blood. Since that day, much had changed. Siryn had taken over for Rachelle, and Margaret was now her right hand. Those were the good thoughts that Siryn used to suppress the memories and dreams that plagued her.

 

Approaching the bow of the vessel, Siryn glimpsed Lady Margaret standing over the prow, breathing deeply and staring into the horizon. “You should have woken me.”

 

Margaret turned and smiled at the sight of her rested captain. “Unnecessary, Mistress. All goes well. We should make port by early evening.”

 

“Excellent,” Siryn replied, glad to be heading in. They had been away from home for almost two months, and she felt the crew, and herself, needed a break. For a moment, the two women stood, Siryn joining Margaret in staring out at the open seas. “And what of our guest, Margaret?” The captain said, breaking the moment of peace they had been sharing.

 

Siryn thought she saw a flicker of something in Margaret’s eyes, but dismissed the thought when her first mate smirked and gestured towards the prow of the ship. The captain moved forward and leaned over the bow. “Oh, my…” she said as she stared over the edge.

 

“Is something amiss, Mistress? Do you not approve? I thought it would be nice to arrive at port with at least some of our bounty on display. Besides, he has spent too much time in dark, stinking places. He needed some fresh air.” Margaret gave the captain her most innocent look.

 

Captain Siryn looked at Margaret then back down over the bow. The boy had been bound hanging below them, the middle of his back arched by the pointed prow pushing against it. He dangled by his arms, which were pulled painfully up and back against the prow. His elbows had been bound to the prow itself, while his wrists were lashed together by a rope looped over the bowsprit of the vessel. The boy’s legs had been tied together at the knees and ankles, which were anchored to a rusted metal ring just below them. His mouth was filled with a wad of cloth, a cleave gag holding the filling in place. Spray from the water, churned up by the movement of the ship soaked the boy at regular intervals as the captain watched. She also noted that his tattered pants were gone, replaced with just a flimsy loincloth to cover his privates. “It’s a bit…religious, don’t you think, Margaret?”

 

“An unfortunate side effect of the shape and form of the prow. The only other option was upside down, but that would have risked him drowning. If Mistress objects, we can take him down.”

 

“No, Margaret,” Siryn said with a chuckle, “it looks like a lot of work went into this, why would I want to spoil your fun? After all, you found him; you can display him any way you like.” The captain looked at Margaret and winked, “and it seems you like him without leggings.”

 

Margaret looked down at the deck, her cheeks turning red quickly under her captain’s amused gaze. “His breeches were filthy, and I thought it best to remove all vestiges of his previous life,” she said without looking up. “Besides, Mistress, I didn’t really take away his clothing, I needed to use something for a gag, didn’t I?” Now it was Margaret’s turn to wink as she looked up at Siryn once again, her fluster fading.

 

Captain Siryn laughed and placed her arm around her second, “well said Margaret! You wouldn’t want him too comfortable no matter how much you like him.”

 

“Mistress, I…”

 

“It’s okay, Margaret. Just don’t become too attached. We have yet to decide his fate.”

 

“Of course, Mistress, as you wish.” Margaret sighed as Siryn turned and walked towards the bridge of the ship. She turned back towards the bow, leaning over once again to look at the helpless captive dangling below her. “Damn you, and damn me for bringing you on board,” she whispered as she turned away and rushed to join the captain.

 

The boy had no knowledge of the women standing above him. He could hear nothing over the roar of the sea and the movement of the ship through it. His arms and shoulders ached horribly, forced to support his dangling weight, and the constant pressure on his back made him long for the relative comfort of the hold. He shook his head as another spray of seawater soaked him from head to toe, attempting to clear his eyes and nose. It was imperative that he keep his nose clear or risk suffocation as his gag completely filled his mouth, blocking any passage of air. He was moderately grateful for the constant drenchings, as they were the only thing that helped to alleviate his hanging in the hot, relentless sun. The boy squirmed, trying to alleviate some of the pressure on his strained upper body. A groan of frustration barely penetrated the wet packing that filled his mouth. Unable to gain any leverage, he went limp, waiting for the next inevitable wave of water to hit.

 

He had no real idea of how long he had been hanging from the prow, although he knew it was hours. The burning sun had moved behind him, offering him some measure of relief from its intense heat. The downside was that it had gotten colder, and he shivered uncontrollably after every blast of sea spray hit his helpless form. It was sometime after dusk that he first noticed the island appear in the distance, and with something to now occupy his attention, he managed to focus enough to block out his misery. He stared up at the closing landmass, now and then shaking more water from his eyes and nose. As they approached, the ship turned around a stretch of empty beach and moved into a secluded cove. He wondered as to the depth of the water this close to land that a ship of this size could approach. He knew that within moments, the moving forms he could just make out around the dock would be able to see him. Steeling his resolve, the boy continued to watch as the ship moved closer. The reduced speed had cut down on both the sea spray and sound, enabling him to hear the shouts and docking preparations occurring above him. Elated cries started coming from the people on land. The boy saw, with a sense of unease, that they were all women. Many were now pointing at the arriving vessel, and some directly at him as they covered their mouths to hide their giggles. He tried to look down and avoid their gaze, but could not help looking up now and then as the ship slid into its dock. In addition to the women working at the piers, he could see children, both girls and boys, playing around the waterfront. He felt a twinge of relief until he realized none of the boys appeared older than twelve. As the ship came to a smooth stop in its berth, the boy was left hanging scant feet above a boardwalk, and a crowd of women and children had gathered to welcome the ship and stare at him. Suddenly he heard Margaret’s voice from above him, the word “ready” ringing out to the crowd. He felt a tug at his arms and then suddenly was falling face first toward the crowd. Three women grabbed him as he fell into range and lowered his angled body to the wood walkway. He assumed another woman had cut the rope holding his feet to the iron ring as his lower body slipped free of its hours of immobility. While his feet were still tightly tied together, he felt the women around him pull his aching arms behind his back and bind them at wrists and elbows. He was then dragged by two of the women, one holding him under each arm, to the now lowered walkway connecting the ship to the dock. He was pushed to his knees as he saw Captain Siryn and Lady Margaret disembarking from the vessel. He recoiled from two quick smacks to the back of his head and heard one of his escorts tell him to keep his head down. He quickly obeyed, knowing that toeing the line at this point would be the only thing to keep him alive.

 

Two pairs of high, leather boots appeared before the kneeling boy. “Get him cleaned up and then have him brought to me after dinner, Margaret.”

 

“Yes, Mistress,” Margaret said as she stepped around behind the boy to confer with his two handlers.

 

“Oh, and Margaret,” Siryn said, “make sure he is completely cleaned up…and out.”

 

“Of course, Mistress.” Margaret watched as her captain turned, and accompanied by several important looking women, walked from the dock. Turning, she gazed down again at the captive boy kneeling in front of her. “Okay ladies, let’s get him processed.” Margaret signaled to the two women and they again grabbed the boy and started dragging him inland. The small crowd had begun to move with them, consisting of mostly young women and children. She smiled as she saw the boy’s cheeks turn red above his tight gag. He must have just realized that his nearly naked form has been under scrutiny by a bunch of women of similar age. Granted, she thought to herself, he has had other things to occupy his mind.

 

After being dragged from the docks, the boy found himself, some fifteen minutes later, approaching a series of windowless wooden buildings. He counted eight total, although five of them could not really be called buildings as much as large boxes. Of the other three, the largest was a long, plain looking one-story building and, if he had to guess, appeared to be some kind of barracks. The other two, while similar in size, were vastly different in appearance. The one his captors were dragging him toward was as plain and unremarkable as the longer building, while the farther one, situated a bit closer to the largest building, was far more detailed in it’s design and construction. There were no other dwellings in the immediate area, and the boy guessed that they were now at the opposite end of the community, away from the bustle of its inhabitants. He looked around as best he could, noticing for the first time that his party had lost Lady Margaret and the rest of their entourage at some point on their hike. Realizing he was now helpless and alone with this group of unknown women caused an involuntary shudder to sweep down his bound body.

 

If they noticed, the two women holding him didn’t let on as they approached the ominous looking building. They stopped a few feet in front of the door and dropped their captive onto the hard earth. The boy grunted as he hit the ground, but recovered in time to see another woman emerge from the more ornate building. She approached the group, looked him up and down, and then stepped away with the two women who had been holding him up. After a hushed conversation, which consisted of way too much laughing for the boy’s taste, his two caretakers waved to the new woman and departed back the way they had come. He couldn’t help but notice the large bullwhip hanging from the woman’s belt. The boy had been beaten only sparingly before, his service always acceptable enough to prevent harsh punishments, and had no desire to feel the sting of this intimidating lash. Stepping over him, she pounded on the door and waited, arms crossed on her chest. A moment later, the door opened and large hands grabbed the captive and pulled him into the unknown.

 

He awoke with a start. His head was pounding and his eyes were blinking against the harsh light of too many lanterns. He knew he must have passed out, and was grateful for it, but now, woken by the bucket of water hurled in his face, he had to face the horrors once again. He was locked into a set of wooden stocks unlike any he had ever seen before. They held him so that his body was at a forty-five degree angle to the ground, blood continuing to rush into his pounding head as it faced the soiled floor and grate covered pit beneath him. As with typical stocks, these held his wrists close to his neck, but they were then connected by short crosspieces to another set that held his legs wide open, almost doubling him over in mid air. The entire contraption was balanced by a heavy wooden base that kept him from toppling over. Now that he had been roused, the assault on his exposed rear passage began anew.

 

On the foul, stinking inside of the building, the boy had been subjected to a full body scraping by what he assumed were two male slaves. The rough looking men, under the direction of the woman who had emerged from the other building, had untied the boy, removed his gag, and stripped him of the last of his garments. The boy did not object as the two men, clad only in loin cloths and iron collars about their necks, moved him as needed to remove all of his body hair with the sides of two small blades. He blushed red and tried not to shed any tears as these men thoroughly did their work, not even leaving him the dignity of keeping the hair around his private parts and ass.  Once they were done, to the satisfaction of the woman, the only hair he had left was on his head, and even that had been cut to a manageable level. Once she nodded her approval, the men had grabbed the boy, his body sensitized and burning from the scraping of the blades, and brought him over to the stock like device.

 

Surrounded by the unknown, and in a situation vastly different from his previous periods of captivity and servitude, the boy began to panic as he was locked into the rough wooden planks. His struggles against the unyielding restraints produced nothing more than a cruel laugh from the woman in front of him as he was positioned with his head facing the floor. He gagged as the smell wafted up from under him, frightened thoughts filling his head. The woman then directed the two slaves in dragging over a large barrel filled with some type of liquid. The barrel was moved behind the suspended boy and a thick but supple tube was fed down into the fluid. One of the two slaves then attached the other end of the tube to the middle of a bellows like device. The other slave picked up the bellows and squeezed the two ends. The boy jerked in the stocks as a jet of cold liquid sprayed against him. The fear continued to build as the woman in front of him smiled and opened up a small chest sitting on the floor in front of the dangling boy. He groaned as she withdrew several phallus shaped items and set them in front of him, stroking each one lovingly. There were six total, each one bigger than the last. Three appeared to be made of roughly carved wood, while the others seemed to be constructed of layers of stiff, braided leather. She pondered for a moment more, and then settled on the second largest wooden one, tossing the others back into the chest. She held it close to the boys upturned face and he was able to make out the hole in the tip of the faux penis. She pushed it close to his lips and whispered softly into his ear, “kiss it, slave.”

 

 

He shuddered in revulsion, but pursed his lips as he saw her hand reach toward the whip on her belt. “Good boy,” she said as she pushed it against his waiting lips. She watched as he planted a small kiss on the end of the shaft. “Now open your mouth,” she continued in her hushed tone, “wide…” As his lips parted ever so slightly, the woman pushed half of it deep into his mouth. She continued pushing until he gagged as it nudged the back of his throat. The girth of the thing filled his mouth completely, and the boy could feel the roughness of the wood and even several knots left over from its previous life as part of a tree. She swirled it around the inside of his mouth, coating it with his saliva. She then abruptly pulled it out and tossed it to the other male slave who proceeded to attach it to the front end of the bellows being held by his fellow slave. With clinical detachment, the slave stepped to the side of the boy and pried apart his ass cheeks, allowing the other to approach with the bellows.

 

Tears began streaming from his eyes as the boy tried to prepare himself for what was about to happen. He had always counted himself lucky that none of his previous owners had ever used him thusly, but now he knew that the women who owned him were different, and his luck had run out. He felt the tip of the wooden phallus touch his anal ring, and grunted as it pushed past his last line of defense. The ripping sensation caused him to scream out, but he was quickly silenced as the woman shoved the handle of her whip into his mouth, improvising a bit gag for him. Inch after inch of the monster forced its way inside of him as his position and accelerated heartbeat forced more blood to his head until darkness overtook him.

 

Now awakened by the water dumped on his face, the boy remembered his predicament as the male slaves began their task anew. It was obvious that he was to be conscious for this perversion he was about to undergo, so, with a grim resolution, he bit down on the whip handle between his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut against the assault. He felt the closest slave’s hands on his ass cheeks, spreading them obscenely open as the second fellow moved closer with the bellows. The wooden phallus bumped up against his tightly clenched anal ring, causing him to shudder in the strict restraint of the stocks. A sharp pain heralded the increasing pressure applied by the burly slave as the tip of the wooden monster forced its way past the slowly stretching muscle. A brief bit of cold was felt as the slave holding his cheeks open added his spittle to the saliva already on the carved monster. The boy was wondering if the act had been out of kindness or desire to get the task over with when another, tearing pain shot through his rear as the head of the phallus pushed into his anal passage. The pressure continued until the whole of the unyielding shaft had been impacted into his rectum.

 

Sweat and tears were pouring from the boy’s head as the woman used one hand to stroke the boy’s head and hair, while her other held the whip handle tightly in his mouth. She knew he would be screaming without the gag, and had no desire to punish him for it. She felt him tremble as the slave released his cheeks, now being held by the large device buried within. She smiled down at the boy then nodded to the two slaves who began taking turns pumping the bellows. She felt the boy buck in his bonds as the fluid was forced deep inside of him. Each pump sent him into convulsions as the liquid burned its way through his intestines. Once half the barrel was empty, the men pulled the phallus out and quickly changed the position of the boy so that his head was now up and his violated rear faced the grating below him. The woman stepped away just as the boy lost control and explosively rid himself of the irritating fluid he had been filled with. She watched with interest as he once again lost consciousness, even as his insides continued to expel the contents of his bowels.

 

He only barely remembered the second penetration and filling. They did not attempt to wake him with another bucketful of water, apparently content that he had experienced the ordeal once. He did regain full consciousness as the two male slaves were scrubbing his newly released body. He remained still on the floor as the men scrubbed him with water and cleansing lotions. He was relieved to be rid of the clinging stench he had acquired while hanging over the drainage pit and expelling his own foul waste. As the cleaning came to a halt, the boy glimpsed a figure in the doorway. He did not need to see her clearly to know it was Lady Margaret. He shivered slightly, not knowing if it was from the chill of the water and air on his now hairless body, or the thought of being near her again.

 

It hadn’t taken long for the two slaves and the woman with the whip to get him ready. He was given a small loincloth that barely covered his genitals and rear end. He had stepped into the garment slowly, still sore from the stocks as well as the cleansing. His hesitation earned him a lash of the whip to his lower back. Falling to his knees, the two male slaves approached and quickly locked him into a set of iron manacles consisting of cuffs that kept his hands behind his back, a tall collar, and shackles for his feet that were connected by only two feet of chain. He was hauled up roughly into the direct gaze of Lady Margaret. She looked him up and down as he averted his eyes and stared at the ground.

 

“You will follow me. Do not fall behind. Say nothing or you will be gagged and punished. If you understand, nod your head.”

 

The boy nodded his head as much as possible under the restriction of the high collar. With that, Margaret turned and walked off, expecting the boy to keep pace with her as they trekked back towards the village.

 

 

“I am uneasy, Margaret.” Captain Siryn said with a sigh.

 

“Whatever about, Mistress? Dinner went well, and everyone was pleased with our success. What have you to be uneasy about?”

 

The captain stood up from her seat at the large table, remnants of the after dinner festivities still strewn about. She walked across the spacious hall and stopped in front of the boy. He was chained in a spread eagle position, standing on just the tips of his toes. His muscles quivered from being kept in this position for so long. Margaret had brought him into the hall just as the last course of the dinner had been served. None of the other females in the building had paid any attention as he had been re-chained into his current pose by three of the male slaves attending to the diners. Once the meal had been completed, the boy had endured his taught stance for almost two hours while the ladies listened to stories of the recently returned crew’s adventures, including his capture. Eventually the festivities died down until just Margaret and her captain remained.

 

Lady Margaret stood also, a momentary look of distress passing over her features as she hurried to Siryn’s side. “You seem disturbed as well, Margaret. Did you eat something off?”

 

“No, my Lady. I am merely concerned over your distress.”

 

“I see. Thank you for your concern. As always, your loyalty remains my greatest strength.”

 

“Thank you, Mistress. I want only your happiness and well-being. What troubles you?”

 

“The dreams Margaret. Even during my brief catnap before dinner they plagued me.” She walked around the bound boy and stopped in front of him.

 

Margaret moved quickly to her side and nodded up at the captive. “Perhaps we should decide on his fate at a later time and retire to discuss the other matter in private?”

 

“No,” the captain said as she reached up and unknotted the cloth from behind the boy’s head. She then pulled the greasy wadded up rag from his mouth causing him to wretch slightly. She watched intently as he sucked in air and worked his jaw, obviously relieved to be free of the packing put there by the kitchen slaves hours ago. “I think rather, that what I need is a distraction, something to bring my mind back to the present. Perhaps it is time to find out more about this young man.”

 

The harsh glare at the boy was almost imperceptible. “As you wish, my lady.”

 

Siryn turned her full attention to the nearly naked captive suspended before her. “You may speak now. Answer my questions fully and honestly. Do not make me wish we had left you on your flaming vessel. Do you understand?”

 

“Y..y...yes Mistress,” he replied nervously, still trying to work off the effects of the gag.

 

“My, Margaret, look at how submissive he is. Already he calls me “Mistress” and I have not yet even reached for the lash. Delightful! Tell me boy, what is your name?”

 

“Perhaps we should just give him one, my lady,” Margaret said a bit nervously. “We could even choose a sweet feminine one. He is just a slave after all.”

 

“All in due time, Margaret,” she replied, “although that is a wonderful idea. Now,” she said looking back at the boy whose body was blushing red at the thought of being called by a girl’s name, “what is…was your name?”

 

Although neither noticed, each intent upon their part of the unfolding drama, Margaret glared fiercely at the hanging boy.

 

“Boy, Mistress. I was always just called boy. I don’t remember my real name. It has been a long time.”

 

“Nonsense,” Captain Siryn said, “I’m sure you just need some motivation to remember.” The Captain unclipped her braided leather bullwhip from her belt and uncoiled it before the helpless, stretched out boy.

 

Margaret gasped audibly, “My Lady, no. I don’t believe this soft skinned slave has ever felt the lash. Perhaps some other method could be considered?”

 

The captain looked at her first mate questioningly. “Why the concern Margaret? Could my suspicions be true? Does this little pampered cabin boy appeal to you?”

 

“Mistress, I…”

 

“It is of no consequence. He is certainly of an age where he should have felt the sting of a whip by now. It is best to ensure his understanding of his station if we are going to keep him around. Don’t you think, Margaret?”

 

She put her head down, unwilling to meet her captain’s gaze. “As you wish, Mistress.”

 

“Besides,” the captain continued, shaking out the whip, “his reticence intrigues me and I am certain this will loosen his tongue.” She stepped several paces behind him and drew back her arm. Glancing to the side, she saw Margaret wince just as the lash made contact with the boy’s back, a loud “crack” echoing through the hall. The noise was cut by the scream of the victim as the pain registered after he heard the sound. He bucked in his bonds as the never before felt fire raced across his flesh. Siryn struck four more times. Deliberate, measured strokes. She watched as the ugly red welts appeared one by one on the boy’s smooth skin.

 

The boy was openly sobbing now as the captain moved to face him again.   “Well, “boy”, have you remembered your true name yet?” Her question met only with sobs and gasps for air, Siryn resumed her stance behind him and proceeded to lay whip to flesh three more times.

 

As she drew back her arm to administer his ninth stroke, the boy’s cry reverberated through the hall. “Sebastian! My name was Sebastian! Please, no more! Mercy, Mistress!” Captain Siryn stood motionless as the whip fell from her grasp. To the side, Margaret had dropped to her knees and was crying softly into her hands.

 

“Sebastian,” the Captain whispered, “…after all these years? It can’t be possible.” Stepping over the forgotten bullwhip, she moved in front of the well-punished boy. She approached him cautiously, scrutinizing his every feature. Reaching out, she brushed her hand against his cheeks, wiping away the tears flowing freely from his eyes. “It is you, I see it now. So much time has passed. I gave up any hope long ago. Sebastian, my brother, I have finally found you and look at what I’ve done to you.”

 

The boy’s shock was written all over his face as the Captain turned from him and walked towards Margaret’s gently sobbing form. “S-s-sister?” He stammered as the shocking word melded with the trauma of the whipping and became too much to bear. His body went limp in his bonds as he passed out, the welcoming darkness surrounding him and shielding him from further distress.

 

Not noticing that the boy had lost consciousness, Siryn stood over Margaret’s kneeling form, her face still buried firmly in her hands, gentle sobs shaking her shoulders with each gasp of air she took. “You knew?” The Captain’s stern question was answered only by another sob. “Answer me, Margaret. I assure you, now is not the time to play with my emotions.”

 

“Forgive me Mistress,” Margaret replied quickly, looking up through tear stained eyes at her friend and captain. “I only suspected. I thought if it were true, you would have recognized him when I brought him aboard the Lady Peregrine. When you showed no sign of recognition, I assumed he was just another galley slave”.

 

“My brother, just another galley slave…” Siryn said, almost to herself.

 

“Forgive me Mistress, I meant no disrespect.”

 

“Margaret,” she said with a deep sigh, “the reason behind my mission all these years has been laid bare before me. My brother still lives. And what have I done? Beaten him, tortured him, humiliated him? Has my life become so filled with violence and hatred that I failed to recognize my own brother? My God, even the dreams had returned to warn me.”

 

“Mistress, you must not blame yourself. He was only four years old when you last saw him. You yourself were but a girl of fifteen. With all that happened, how could you expect yourself to remember? You said it yourself, in the dreams, all of the faces were blurred.”

 

“Would you rather I blame you, Margaret? Should I replace his bound form with yours and punish you for your deceit?”

 

“If that will spare Mistress her guilt, then I will gladly accept my fate,” Margaret replied, putting her head to the ground at her captain’s feet.

 

“I know you would, Margaret, and that is why it will not be necessary. I believe that your suspicions were allayed enough to keep up your charade, but I also believe that there is more to this than you are saying. It seems we both have some emotional issues we need to come to grips with before we can move on with our lives.” She stepped away from Margaret’s prone form and moved towards the door of the hall. Glancing back towards her brother, peacefully hanging in his bonds, Captain Siryn sighed deeply.

 

“I am retiring for the night, perhaps longer. I have found the most precious treasure I could have hoped for and now I have much to think on. Take care of him Margaret, keep him safe until I am ready to face him again.”

 

Margaret waited until she could no longer hear her captain’s footfalls before she rose from the floor. She was wiping away her tears as two other women entered the large room, looking to clean up after the night’s festivities. When they asked Margaret what should be done with the boy, she smiled sadly. “The Captain said he was precious treasure that must be kept safe. We will do what we do to keep all of our treasure safe, we will bury him.”

 

 

 

Sebastian awoke with a start, the unfamiliar hands moving all about his body. He sputtered a bit to clear his nose of the sand-like dirt threatening to block the passage of air. He was lying on the ground, in the middle of a small clearing in the thick jungle of the island. He knew he had been gagged again, and the taste reminded him of the same foul cloth he had been forced to endure in the dinning hall earlier. He tried to move a bit, realizing even as he received a slap on his rear that the hands attending to him were in the process of tying him with coarse rope. He stayed still, allowing the women to continue to bind him. He was enduring the most strict hog-tie he had ever encountered. His arms had been pulled behind his back and pulled painfully upward toward his neck. Rope encircled his wrists and then moved to loop around his throat, ensuring any movement could be hazardous to his well-being. More rope had been wrapped around his arms, chest, and shoulders, completing his upper body bondage. His legs had been bound together at the thighs, above and below the knees, calves, and ankles. He grunted into his gag as his tightly restrained legs were lifted behind him and doubled over. He felt his ankles being tied off impossibly tight to his wrists, putting even more pressure on his neck. Next, the arches of his feet were tied together, followed by his big toes. The harsh toe bondage was then connected to a similar tie placed about his thumbs. When the slack was pulled out of the connecting rope, the boys feet were pulled forward into a painful, muscle cramping pointed position. A rope was then pulled around his mouth, over the strip of cloth holding the wadding deep in his mouth, wrenched back, and tied off to his thumbs. With his face now pulled up, off the ground, Sebastian could see the familiar boots of Lady Margaret standing next to a dug out hole at the edge of the clearing as she oversaw the process of his restraint.

 

“Re-tighten all of his bonds,” he heard her order, “pulling his head back has caused some slack in the hog-tie.” He grunted as his distressed body felt the merciless elimination of any possible movement. He gazed forward helplessly as Margaret approached his face with a strange looking mask. It appeared to be made of leather, probably stiffened with the sap of some local tree, and had two short tubes protruding from the upper part of the inside. Carefully, she lined the two tubes up under the boy’s nose and in one motion, slipped the mask onto his face, forcing the tubes deep into his nostrils. As she tightened the buckle of the mask behind his head, Sebastian felt the tubes slipping in deeper. Caught in a momentary panic at not being able to breathe, he struggled frantically against his bonds which only served to pull at the rope around his neck. The boy was turning blue when he felt Margaret slap him on the side of his head. She had knelt down by his face and was talking to him in slow, clear words. “You must overcome your panic and concentrate on breathing through your nose. The air will come if you calm down.” Sebastian squeezed his eyes closed and focused on breathing. The tight mask, covering him from the bridge of his nose all the way to under his chin, coupled with his incredibly tight bondage, had induced a feeling of claustrophobia that he had never encountered prior to this day. He forced himself to remain calm and after a tense several seconds, found that he could breathe satisfactorily, if shallowly, through the tubes in his nose. Calming down also eased the pressure on his throat and soon the blue tinge had faded from his countenance. “Very good,” Margaret said as she stroked his sweat covered brow and hair, “you must remain calm to endure what comes next.”

 

Another twinge of panic struck him as he saw a small treasure chest placed on the ground next to him. He felt the women who had bound him lift him up and place him in the open chest. It was barely big enough to contain him. His knees were scraping one end, while his mask covered face was pressed directly against the other. He saw Margaret reach toward his face and then felt a push as she attached something to the outside of his mask. The other women had busied themselves attaching even more restraints to his body, these pinioning him into position inside the chest.

 

“Remember what I said about remaining calm. If you do so, nothing can harm you.” The slamming of the lid blocked out any further comments Margaret could have made to the boy. The women quickly pushed a metal bar along the length of the front of the chest at the seam. The bar slid through several circles of metal that had joined together when the lid had been closed on the base. With the bar in place, the lid could not be opened. Lady Margaret snapped three heavy padlocks onto the ends and middle of the bar, ensuring no escape for the boy trapped within.  The women then lifted the chest and carefully placed it into the bottom of the deep hole they had dug while the boy was unconscious. Margaret grasped the end of the tube sticking out of the side of the chest where the boy’s face was, and maneuvered it out of the way as the rest of the group began filling in the hole with dirt. Within moments, the only evidence of the buried captive was the end of the small tube sticking a foot out of the ground and laying concealed in the brush at the rim of the clearing. The women quickly gathered their gear and left their treasure buried safely and out of the clutches of any rogues who might happen along.

 

 

The dream was upon her again. Captain Siryn thrashed in her bed as she relived the events of fourteen years prior. She watches in horror as the vessel her family was traveling on, the HMS Windward, is boarded by the hoard of pirates streaming over the sides of the ship. Hidden behind a barrel, the fifteen year old shrinks down, trying to stay invisible as the crew is slaughtered without mercy. She stifles a gasp as her parents are brought above deck, her brother Sebastian in the arms of their mother. She relives her helplessness as her father; Lord Breckenmeyer is run through the heart by the pirate captain’s blade. She jumps out of hiding as the blade turns towards her mother. Seeing her daughter, the mother dashes towards her. The gunshot rings out as Sebastian flies from his mother’s arms and her momentum carries the woman, shot in the back, into her stunned daughter. Together the two women tumble from the ship and into the cold, dark water. The last thing Jacqueline Breckenmeyer sees before being dragged underwater by the lifeless body of her mother is her brother, dangling upside down over the side of the vessel, his leg held in the grip of the grinning pirate responsible for the slaughter of her family. Only this time, the face of the pirate is her own.

 

 

“Once I had extracted myself from under my mother’s body and managed to find a large enough piece of refuse to both hold onto and hide behind, the attacking ship was gone and our vessel was slowly sinking in front of me. I used what little strength I had left to search for Sebastian, but to no avail. All these years I had assumed that grinning bastard had dropped him overboard to drown.”

 

“Mistress,” Lady Margaret said as the two women sat in the captain’s unassuming home away from her ship, “you could have assumed nothing else. And considering what he did, Captain Ferral got exactly what he deserved when you finally caught up with him.”

 

“Indeed,” the woman formerly known as Jacqueline Breckenmeyer said as she thought back to the image of her nemesis chained by the neck to an anchor and thrown over the side of his own vessel. “Now we can only assume that he decided Sebastian would better serve his purposes trained as a galley slave rather than meeting with Davey Jones. I am sure he was not on board when the Lady Peregrine attacked. My brother must have had many masters since then.”

 

“But no Mistresses,” Margaret whispered.

 

“No, likely not,” Siryn responded softly, a knowing look passing from her to her first mate. “It is alright Margaret. I understand. I do not disapprove. However, you must come to terms with your conflicted emotions. You are being overly cruel to him because you feel you are betraying me.”

 

“Mistress, I would never injure your brother.”

 

“No, but you do seem to be going out of your way to make him, shall we say, uncomfortable. The other women have given me detailed reports, Margaret. Do you not think that you went a bit far with your method of keeping him safe?”

 

“Forgive me Mistress.”

 

“No need. His life has been hard, I’m sure, and there is no guarantee it will get easier. He is a slave and will always be one in one form or another. I suppose he should learn how harsh things can get.”

 

“Yes, Mistress. You are very wise.”

 

“Bring him to me tonight, Margaret. Prepare him as you please. I will sort this situation out completely and finally be rid of my dreams.”

 

 

Entombed in complete darkness, the young man known many years past as Sebastian Brekenmeyer, attempts to remain calm and control his labored breathing. He has been unable to move any part of his body since Lady Margaret and her fellows had bound and sealed him in the chest now lying buried many feet beneath the floor of a jungle clearing. He had no idea how long he’d been buried, but the muscle cramps and numbness plaguing him, as well as the dull ache from his earlier whipping, were a clear indication that many hours had passed. Overcoming his initial panic at the thought of being buried alive had been his first great struggle, but clearing his mind and concentrating on the words of his beautiful captress had helped diminish his fears. Somehow he believed that the fiery haired young woman, despite her outward cruelty to him, meant him no actual harm. His thoughts drifted in the darkness to Captain Siryn. Could she truly be his sister Jacqueline, after all these years? The thought of finding a member of his long thought dead family, and as a pirate captain no less, made him wonder as to his eventual fate. He did not know how this twist of fate and irony would affect his life. Being a cabin boy and then slave to ships full of pirates for the past fifteen years had left him no doubts as to his station in life. Being surrounded by death and destruction had also left him with a more stoic acceptance of his destiny. It was obvious as he squirmed a bit, the welts on his back rubbing against the harsh ropes holding him, that even after his lineage had been revealed, little would change for him.

 

His slight movements winded him a bit as he attempted to suck more air through the tubes that were his only connection to the world above him. The air was thick with humidity, and the musty aroma of decomposing plant matter. He realized that thinking about his family and eventual fate were not conducive to the calm presence he must maintain in order to survive his imprisonment. Turning his thoughts back to Lady Margaret, he attempted to recall each time the girl had spoken to him or looked his way. He knew there was anger towards him, the reason now being mostly clear. It was most likely jealousy at the thought of having to share her captain with someone else. But there had been more. The way she had come to him at times, watching him from a distance so he could not clearly see her. The furtive glances when in “Siryn’s” presence. He hoped he wasn’t imagining these signs, for that would mean that his own feelings would never be reciprocated. He was in love with this strong young woman who had rescued him from his previous life. He knew from the moment she took charge of him that this relationship would be different from those in his past. While he was used to being at the mercy of others, never before had his feelings towards it manifested sexually. His thoughts focused on Margaret, her image overwhelming his senses as he laid in the cramped chest, this beautiful woman, with the power to make him completely helpless in all ways. Sebastian exploded into his skimpy loincloth before he even realized that he had been grinding his erect penis into the bottom of the crate. He was sucking air rapidly through the tubes, recovering from the most powerful orgasm he had ever experienced, when he felt the chest move. 

 

 

Sebastian groaned into his gag as his tightly bound body was lifted out of the unburied chest and laid on the ground. Standing in front of him was again Lady Margaret who was overseeing his removal by four other women. He winced as she roughly undid the buckle holding his breathing mask in place and pulled it from his face. The tubes were yanked free of his nostrils, and the boy sucked in a lungful of fresh, clean air. As he breathed deeply, he felt a wooden pole slide in-between his body and hog-tied limbs. New pain assaulted him as the women lifted him up into the air, like a roast boar impaled on a spit over a cooking fire. His discomfort subsided though as heard the laughter coming from his captors. He blushed a crimson red as he realized what the women were laughing about.

 

“Hmmm…” Lady Margaret said sarcastically, “I expected you to have lost control of some of your bodily functions while waiting in storage over the last thirty-six hours, but I didn’t expect this.” She crouched next to the boy’s suspended form and, drawing her dagger from the sheath on her belt, cut away his soiled loincloth. She watched as he blushed an even deeper shade of red in reaction to his most private parts being exposed to the scrutiny of these harsh women. Leaning into the chest, Margaret used the remnants of Sebastian’s garment to wipe up the fluid he had left behind. Carefully folding it up, she motioned to the others to follow her, the boy hanging limply in their clutches.

 

“Ah, another cruel mode of restraint I see,” Captain Siryn said from her seat in the center of the hall. She watched as the women put her brother down and then slipped the pole out away from his body, leaving him helpless on the floor in front of his older sister.

 

“ I will release him if you wish, Mistress,” Margaret said as she stood next to the boy.

 

“Perhaps the more extreme parts of the binding Margaret. So that he may kneel in front of us.”

 

“As you wish, Mistress.” Margaret bent to the boy and began untying all of the bonds that held his body in its strict position. When she finished, and she pulled him up to his knees by his hair, he was still tied at the wrists, arms, knees, and ankles.

 

“Wasn’t he clothed when last I saw him?”

 

Margaret smiled and pulled the boy’s loincloth from her belt, careful to keep its contents from spilling. “He had an accident while locked away.”

 

“I see,” Siryn said as she walked over to them and surveyed the proffered cloth. “It appears my brother enjoyed his time underground.” She watched as Sebastian groaned and squirmed in embarrassment. “Remove his gag, Margaret.”

 

The woman quickly unknotted the cloth yanked cruelly between his teeth and, reaching into his filled mouth, grabbed a piece of the impacted wadding and pulled it out. The boy wretched as the foul packing left his oral cavity. He fought back the urge to vomit as he swallowed down small pools of stale saliva that had accumulated around the gag. The boy kept his head down as he worked his stiff jaw.

 

“Sebastian,” the former Jacqueline Breckenmeyer said as she stood before her brother, “I have spent the last fifteen years of my life avenging what was done to our family. I have sailed around the world eliminating the barbarians who murder and enslave innocents…”

 

“But you have slaves as well.” The words that came from the bound boy shocked the captain. Finally, the subservient cabin boy/slave has found his tongue. Siryn did not know whether to be pleased or angry. Fortunately, Margaret spared her that choice as she leapt in front of Sebastian and assaulted him with a stinging slap to the face that sent him sprawling onto his side.

 

“You will not speak unless told to, boy. You will respect the Mistress in all ways. No matter whom you may be.” Lady Margaret rose from her crouched position in front of the boy, Siryn’s hands reassuringly on her shoulders.

 

“It is alright, Margaret. From his limited experience, it would be a valid question.” She glared directly at her brother as she moved Margaret to the side. “Although speaking without permission is ill advisable to one of his station.” She watched as her brother righted himself, licking off a drop of blood at the corner of his mouth. “All of the slaves here, men of course, were the youngest inhabitants of the vessels my predecessor destroyed. All were either passengers or slaves, as you were. Surely you would agree that life as a slave is better than death?”

 

“As you say…Mistress,” the boy replied, rightly assuming the question to be implied permission to speak. “May I add, Mistress, that although I do not remember you much, I am pleased that you are well.” The boy looked up at his sister, not a hint of dishonesty appearing in his expression.

 

Captain Siryn fought back the tears that were welling up in her eyes. “Re-gag the slave, Margaret.”

 

“Yes, Mistress.” Margaret walked over to the discarded wadding lying on the floor.

 

“Is that what you really wish to use?” Siryn asked her knowingly.

 

Margaret, unsuspecting of that comment, dropped her gaze to the floor, hiding the redness appearing in her cheeks. “No, Mistress.”

 

“Do what you will, Margaret. It is alright.”

 

Margaret quickly moved over to the boy, his soiled loincloth appearing again in her hand. She folded it so that his now dry ejaculate was positioned on the outside of the wad of cloth. “Open your mouth, boy. Stick your tongue out and down as you do so.”

 

“Yes Mistress,” the boy stammered, addressing Margaret by that title for the first time. His body trembled slightly as the beautiful girl stood before him. He stuck out his tongue, keeping it as far down as possible, anxious to obey the will of the person who had been so cruel to him. He did not have long to ponder the why’s of his willingness to be subjected to her control as she quickly shoved the cloth into his mouth, pressing the soiled part down onto his tongue even as it was pushed back in place by the pressure of the gag. Sebastian tasted his most private essence and again fought back the urge to vomit. In all his years of captivity, the men he answered to had never humiliated him in this way. Another fit of trembling assaulted him as Margaret tied the gag tightly in place.

 

“He is in love with you Margaret, as you are with him,” Captain Siryn said matter-of-factly.

 

“Mistress, I don’t…”

 

“Enough, Margaret. I have no desire to debate the issue with you. Besides, you would be better served thinking of ways to punish him for speaking without permission just now, rather than attempting to dispute what we both know to be true.” Siryn watched as Margaret lowered her head in a gesture of defeat. She then made her way to the large chair centered against the nearest wall of the room. Sitting down, she looked at her brother, bound, gagged and helpless, so obviously a slave, and Margaret, strong and tall standing next to her captive. At that moment, she knew she was right about her decision.

 

“This is not a discussion, Margaret, so do not interrupt me,” the captain began as she situated herself more comfortably on the seat. “It is time to settle the matters of the past few days. Margaret, for your crime of keeping your suspicions from me, I am taking away your claim to a share of the plunder we acquired from the Sea Scavenger.”

 

Margaret looked down at the floor, a soundless sob apparent by the shift in her shoulders as her shame at having betrayed her captain and friend was laid bare before her. That knowledge hurt her more than the lack of treasure ever could.

 

“I do understand, with all my heart, that what you did, and have always done, was to protect me and serve me to the best of your ability. Lady Margaret,” Siryn said, rising from her seat, “my mission is over. My brother lives and my nightmares have left me. I have avenged my family and made the seas safer for those who would sale them. It is time to close this chapter of my life even while I allow the two of you, who mean more to me than anything in this world, to begin writing the book of your own lives. I have thought hard on these matters and my decisions are sound and final.  Margaret, the Lady Peregrine is yours to command now…”

 

“Mistress no!” Margaret screamed, tears falling freely from her eyes.

 

“Be silent, Margaret,” Siryn continued calmly, “arrangements have already been made. The crew will obey you on whatever course you choose to take them. And, Margaret, as my gift to you for ascending to the captaincy of that fine vessel, I give you, out of my own personal share of the spoils from the Sea Scavenger, one lowly galley slave found onboard. It is my fondest wish that the two of you will have a good life.”

 

Margaret stood in shock, her tears flowing freely at the thought of what her captain had just done. At her side, the boy, eyes wide over his gag, immediately put his head to the ground at the feet of his new owner and Mistress. Seeing this, Jacqueline Breckenmeyer, formerly Captain Siryn of the sea vessel Lady Peregrine walked from the hall and out of their lives.

 

 

 

 

The pub, situated in an older, run-down section of the wharf, was filled with the sounds of wild excess. The sailors, having their way with the serving wenches, were mostly oblivious to the goings on that did not concern them. But despite the chaos and clamor of the room, the voice of the old, shriveled man seated at a table surrounded by wide-eyed younger seamen was clearly evident. “I tell you, it was the most amazing of sights. They didn’t even pay attention to me in the dinghy as they slaughtered whoever took up swords against them.”

 

“You were too old and impotent for them to worry about,” laughed one of the younger seamen as he slammed his ale mug down on the table.

 

“That may be,” the old man continued, raising his voice above the din, “but it wasn’t the oddest sight that day. As I rowed away from our sinking ship, watching as the flaming hull disappeared beneath the water, I caught a glimpse of the vessel that spawned the she-demons that brought about our end. It was a magnificent ship, and standing at the prow, her Captain, as marvelous a specimen of womanhood as these weary eyes had ever looked upon.”

 

“So what old man,” the boisterous youth said, interrupting yet again, “rumors of the female pirate ship have been sung around these waters for years.”

 

“Aye,” the grizzled sailor nodded, “but the odd thing was, tied beneath the prow of that ship, was a young man, I doubt any older than you, and I would swear upon my immortal soul, that he was smiling.”

 

The table went quiet as the listeners absorbed the haunting words. Two tables away, a solitary female rose and walked toward the door of the establishment. Stopping next to the old man, the woman reached into her pouch and pulled out a gold coin. “Thank you for the tale,” she said, dropping the coin in front of the storyteller. He grabbed it as it bounced on the dirty wooden table and looked up, but the woman was already moving out the door. He watched her back as she left, unaware of the broad smile and tear in her eye as she walked off into the fog.