Scene 3 - The Pirate
“For the crimes of delivering and receiving an unauthorized orgasm,” declared Drusilla, the gorgeous first mate of the SS Dominance, “these bitches will be flogged, as decreed by our beauteous and fearsome captain, The Pirate Emerald.”
The pronouncement from the raven-haired, buxom officer drew a cheer from the assembled crew—all female, all fit, all attractive, all horny—on the deck of a modern-day replica of an antique pirate ship.
One crewwoman, however, was too engaged in her task to cheer; she was licking the pussy of a woman who was nearing what would definitely be an authorized climax, as it belonged to Captain Emerald herself.
(The lady leader rationed orgasms for others with a firm hand. Oh, the lusty female mariners could kiss, caress and grope each other all they wanted—in fact, it was encouraged as a way to promote teamwork and morale—just so long as it didn’t result in the Big O.)
(It wasn’t that Emerald was overly stingy with the approvals; she just enjoyed having an on-the-edge, sexually-aroused crew under her control.)
The chestnut-haired enchantress was indeed beautiful and fearsome. I also knew that she was a wealthy, villainous genius with an obsessive interest in the history of old-time buccaneers.
She was also quite mad, believing herself to be a reincarnation of, and the modern-day version of, the famous eighteenth-century pirate Anne Bonny.
As the story goes, the billionaire heiress built herself a replica of an old-time schooner and added modern weaponry and electronics.
I was an agent for a secret crime-fighting organization and had been trying to uncover her nefarious scheme when Miss Verity Mayfair and I were captured by her martial-arts-trained goons.
(The goons were all females, so: Goonettes? Goonesses? Goonellas? The dictionary is no help.)
It was quite a scene, there on the deck of Emerald’s ship:
The pirate captain was sprawled in a large, padded chair with her pussy hanging over the seat’s edge and her splayed legs propped up on stirrups.
The crewwoman kneeling directly before her was chained by her collar to the front of the seat. That subordinate was skillfully using her mouth, fingers, and a dildo to please her superior.
Two other ladies were kneeling and chained by their collars to the stirrups. They were orally worshiping Emerald’s feet; licking the soles, sucking the toes, caressing her shins, giving it all that they had.
(The three women did not need to be bound for these tasks—it was part of their jobs. This crew just seemed to prefer their sexual activities and shipboard rituals spiced with generous helpings of bondage, sex and gestures of subservience and/or dominance.)
Also nearby on the deck was the young and innocent—and nude—Verity Mayfair, standing with her shackled wrists pulled cruelly upwards towards an overhead beam. She was nearly hanging by them, as she was on her tip-toes.
A curvy Latina sailor named Juanita was similarly unclothed and strung up, and was bound face-to-face, breast-to-breast, and pelvis-to-pelvis with Verity. Straps around their waists, necks and ankles kept them locked together.
Their naked backs were thus facing outward, ready to receive the flogging promised by the first mate, and authorized by the captain.
(Juanita seemed to be taking the situation mostly in stride; she may have been in this position before. Verity, however, was whimpering and squirming in her bondage.)
I had been witness to the cause for their upcoming punishment; earlier in the day, Juanita had been tasked with stimulating Miss Mayfair sexually, repeatedly bringing her to the edge but denying her an orgasm. Verity had been bound to the same chair that Emerald now rested on; it was obviously designed for convenient cunnilingus sessions.
But Juanita had failed to adequately control the girl; with uncontrolled guttural screams and writhing, the nineteen-year-old fair-skinned British blonde had unmistakably orgasmed, garnering a penalty for them both.
(Verity seemed surprised and shocked by the force of her sudden climax; it may have been her first—or, at least, her first caused by the tongue and fingers of another person.)
So now, a pair of Asian women, stripped down to bra and panties, stood by with their black leather floggers, awaiting the order to begin, one pirate for each victim. All four ladies were glowing with a light coating of sensual perspiration in the warm late afternoon sun.
And me? I had a perfect view of the whole scene.
I was standing nearby, the shackles on my wrists chained straight out to a pair of stout posts on either side of me. I was naked, of course, and my skin was oiled up; from the lusty looks on the faces of the assembled crew in various stages of undress, I assumed that my firm body and my large cock was a hit.
A few minutes before, I had been wearing khakis and a tee-shirt. When Emerald had appeared on deck from her quarters down below, dressed in a luxurious silk robe, she demanded to know, “Why is that bastard Drake still clothed? As a matter of fact, why am I?”
That drew a laugh from the assemblage. Emerald had then shed her robe to reveal a glorious body clad only in a tight black corset and boots, sans bra or panties. She settled into her chair as her servants moved into their positions. The two at her feet removed Emerald's boots and started their oral worship. The woman between her legs started kissing the captain's beautiful bald pussy.
Meanwhile, the two crewwomen in charge of my captivity advanced on me with a pair of sharp daggers and cut my garments to shreds, right off my body, and oiled me up, with a bit extra lube on my cock, which was beginning to swell.
(The proximity of the blades to my private parts was a bit scary, but the ladies were skilled and probably wanted to make sure my genitals would be of future use to the captain, or to them.)
Thus, I was now fully nude, but so was the woman who approached me from behind and pressed the front of her oiled-up body to the back of mine.
Other members of the crew then put straps around our waists and necks that kept us bound together. Her large breasts and slippery skin felt unbelievably sensuous on my back and butt as she wriggled and slithered in a sensuous, seductive dance.
She was a tall redhead, nearly my height, with long arms. Though our torsos were restricted by the straps—I told you, these gals loved any excuse for bondage play—her hands were free to reach around me and play with my nipples and my lubed-up genitals, which she did, in fine erotic fashion.
Satisfied at last with the scene before her, Emerald called out, in her Irish brogue, “Tomorrow at dawn these two spies, Miss Mayfair and Mister Drake, will walk the plank. But for now, they will provide us some entertainment.”
Besides being very good with her hands, the gal behind me also played an excellent game of verbal seduction as she whispered in my ear.
“My name is Belinda, but my crew mates call me ‘The Cock Whore.’ I try to be satisfied with their pussy-licking and scissoring and dildos, but I crave—absolutely crave—a man’s cock. A big one like yours, Mister Drake. A hard one. We so rarely get to have a stud like you to fuck. God, how I miss it. I will worship this cock.”
By this time, the two Asian pirates had started whipping Verity and Juanita. The force of the blows was not excessive; no skin was broken by the wide leather thongs. They must have stung, but it appeared that Emerald wanted the woman stressed and tormented, not killed or incapacitated.
As further proof of that proposition, I now saw that a vertical pole had been placed between the legs of the two victims, with a narrow horizontal bar pushing up against both their crotches as they stood face-to-face.
“The bar that presses against their pussies,” Belinda informed me, “oozes a continual stream of lubricants. As the bitches squirm and jerk around from the whips, their clits rub against the soft nubs on the bar, stimulating them.
“Each woman has been fed a powerful aphrodisiac with their lunches—as have you, Mister Drake. None of you are approved for orgasms and will be further disciplined if you climax. I, however, have been charged with forcing one out of you.
“I am to test your capacity to please Captain Emerald, who is—don't tell her I said so—also a first-class Cock Whore. If you demonstrate your prowess here, she will reward you with a night of passion, and then may grant you a quick and merciful execution.”
Belinda continued to pump and stroke my cock; it was more than ready for an orgasm as I had not had one in several days. My recent traveling companion, Miss Mayweather, was a virgin and had been determined to remain that way.
Verity was not a fellow secret agent, but she did have information and connections I needed in my investigation of Emerald’s evil plan. She had agreed to help me, much to her current dismay.
Actually, I’m not sure she was truly dismayed at that moment, because she and Juanita were both clearly getting aroused as the floggers landed again and again on their backs and butts, causing them to grind their clits against the device between their legs.
I knew from personal experience that bondage and danger, when skillfully applied, can be a more potent aphrodisiac than any potion.
And these female buccaneers were far more than just skilled at BDSM; they were fucking artists.
And they were all getting aroused by the three-ring sexual circus going on before them: Emerald getting licked, Verity and Juanita getting flogged, and me getting rubbed and pumped. Most of the crew members of the good ship Dominance were rubbing their pussies, or their neighbor’s pussies, as they watched in fascination.
My juices were flowing from the visual feast laid out before me, as well.
To add to the mix, Belinda was now jerking and moaning in a sexual frenzy behind me, which revved my motor even more.
That frenzy was caused by Drusilla flogging Belinda’s back and butt. The first mate would also pause every few strokes to reach under my bondage buddy’s butt and play with the redhead’s pussy.
Or her asshole. Or both, I couldn’t tell from my current position.
Either way, Belinda was quivering out of control as she continued to pump my cock, squeeze my balls and pinch my nipples.
The sights, the sounds, the sensations were overwhelming; my head was spinning like I was caught up in an erotic whirlpool. Though I tried to resist, the pressure in my groin built and built, until my cock finally erupted in a massive explosion.
I convulsed so strongly that I nearly broke the chains that bound me to the pillars on each side.
At the same time, Emerald climaxed in her chair, as did Verity and Juanita on their whipping post, and Drusilla behind me. The sound of our simultaneous screams echoed from the low hills on the tropical island that we were anchored near.
My legs gave way and I slumped, as much as I could, in my chains.
Except for the sound of several people trying to catch their breaths, the deck was silent for the full minute it took all in attendance to recover from the erotic shock wave that had rocked the SS Dominance like a sexual tsunami.
“Cut!” finally yelled Sam Traylor from his director’s chair behind the cameras.
There was a momentary pause and then the cast and film crew all clapped and hooted like they were watching cinematic history being made.
Maybe it had been; I doubt that five genuine, simultaneous orgasms had ever been captured on film, porno or non-porno.
(This wasn’t truly a pornographic movie, I had been told many times. Agent of B.O.N.D.A.G.E. would be a mainstream action/spy film, albeit with a healthy dose of sex, nudity, and... well, you know... bondage.
However, given the graphic stuff we were shooting, I suspected that it would eventually be released with an R-rated version, an NC-17 version and an XXX version. I was getting to be okay with that.)
