The Pirate's Slave Read online

  He began to pump in and out between my lips, fucking my mouth, both hard hands holding my head still as he used me. I groaned in pleasure.

  "Yes, bitch," he hissed. "God, I've always wanted to see that mouth wrapped around my cock. So sweet. So submissive. Just the way you were meant to be."

  He shuttled in and out, driving deeper and deeper as I fought not to gag.

  "That's it." He threw his head back. "You're mine at last, Rayna. Mine to fuck however I want. Mine to chain and torment. I'm going to put nipple clamps on those pretty tits and stripes on that lovely ass. I'm going to take you in every possible way. I'm going to dominate you ..." His hands tightened painfully on my hair as his strokes increased in speed. Eyes screwed shut with the violent pleasure of fucking my mouth, he gasped, stiffened, his back arching. I felt his cock began to pump sperm, bitter and hot on my tongue.

  Armand's eyes snapped open, and he stared down at me with a

  savage light burning in his eyes. "Swallow it," he growled. "Swallow it all."

  Shivering, I did.

  The Blackbeard was a heavily armed frigate, fast and maneuverable so much so the Stellar Patrol had never been able to defeat it in battle.

  I'll admit to feeling a certain clammy apprehension when we docked in the frigate's great hanger; I wasn't sure how the crew would react to the sight of a collared, naked Stellar Patrol officer. Ex officer. Particularly one who'd tried to blow them out of space so many times.

  I needn't have worried. Armand's crew was too well-trained to show any reaction as I hurried along in the curve of their captain's muscled arm though I did catch a glimpse of sadistic satisfaction here and there in the eyes of some of the men. Probably anticipating the torments I'd soon be suffering at Armand's skilled hands.

  The thought made my mouth go dry.

  He led me directly to his quarters and straight through them. I barely got a glimpse of a dark, ruggedly masculine decor before I was guided into a large connecting room. Slave quarters. Many civilian ships had them, usually off the captain's quarters; rank hath its privileges.

  The room was surprisingly tasteful, the furniture heavy and expensive in quality, all appointed in blue and dove gray. The bed was huge, covered in a thick blue comforter though it was obvious the rings on the head and foot boards were more than simply decorative. A tall oak armoire stood in one corner, a mirrored bureau against the wall, and a variety of small tables held pieces of bronze sculpture. The only indication that the room was intended for a dominant's pleasure was the presence of a number of rings inset in the floor, ceiling and bulkheads.

  "I'm going to have to leave you for a bit," Armand told me as I walked cautiously into the room. "Ship's business."

  "Don't hurry on my account," I muttered.

  He laughed. "I assure you, Rayna, your time will come."

  With that, he left me alone. I didn't even bother to check if he'd locked me in; I knew he had.

  At a loss, I started exploring. That's when I discovered those bronze figures were a lot less innocent than they looked at a distance.

  The statue on the small round table in the corner portrayed a medieval knight. Dressed in chain mail, he held his sword at a threatening angle. A woman knelt at his feet, gowned in fine robes, a crown on her head. She was sucking the knight's cock, his mailed hand fisted in her hair.

  The bronze on the bureau was a burly Viking, his lips drawn back in a grin of triumph. Over one shoulder he carried a woman, naked, bound and gagged, her lush body twisted in fruitless struggle.

  In the third bronze, a U.S. Calvary officer pinned an Indian maiden to the ground. Both her hands were locked in one of his, and he'd spread her legs wide with his muscled thighs. He was sucking one bared breast as he drove his cock deeply into her cunt.

  The forth statue was a seventeenth century pirate holding a writhing woman bent over a cannon as he sodomized her with a massively hard prick. Like all the victims, the woman had my face. Like all the rapists, the pirate had Armand's.

  Staring at the bronze, I realized I was breathing hard. I dragged down a swallow and sat on the bed.

  I should be disgusted. Appalled at the way the bronzes, with their portrayals of ancient rape, suggested that I was fated to be lush female prey to Armand's dominant male predator. I was a Stellar Patrol officer, dammit, a captain. In honor, I could not, would not, submit.

  Suddenly I realized that I lay on my back, my fingers buried deeply in my snatch. Moaning, I turned my head to stare at the bronze of Calvary officer Armand raping Indian maid Rayna. I began to stroke faster, sliding between the slick, hot folds, teasing the hard button of my clit. I could almost feel his fingers digging into my wrists as he held me pinned, his prick shuttling in and out of my helplessly spread body.

  Imagining his triumphant growls, I came.

  Four hours later, Armand drew back his heavily muscled arm, then brought the cat o' nine tails around in a hissing arc. The nine light lashes cut across my bare, swollen nipples, and I bounced on my toes. My wrists were chained together over my head to a ring in the ceiling, and my asshole was burning. He'd squirted my rectum full of thick anal lube, then stuffed it with a butt-plug. The plug, I gathered, was designed to hold the lube in place until he was ready to give me my first slave-fuck.

  In the meantime he was giving himself a hard-on by lashing my tits with the cat. The whip was too light to really cut, but how it did sting ... My nipples were stiff and red, engorged with blood from the beating.

  Shuddering in my bonds, I watched him pull back to strike again. He had stripped to the waist, and muscle rippled along his broad torso as he moved.

  WHISH.

  I jumped as the lashes cut across my tits. "Son of a bitch! I never realized what a fucking sadist you are, Armand."

  "Only where you're concerned, darling." There was a bulge in his tight trousers big enough to shame a horse. "Besides, the way I look at it, I'm only doing my civic duty."

  WHISH.

  I tugged futilely at the chains binding my wrists. When he got good and ready, he was going to bend me over and slide that massive prick deeply into my virgin ass.

  WHISH.

  He'd fuck me in long, brutal strokes, and he wouldn't care how wide and hard he stretched my hole.

  And I couldn't wait.

  I actually wanted it. That was the really appalling thing. Somehow each nasty whiplash ...

  WHISH.

  ...made me more hungry for the final conquest he'd been threatening with all these years. If Armand was a sadist where I was concerned, I'd become a masochist craving his dominance.

  WHISH.

  "You deserve this, you little bitch," he growled as I writhed. "After what you did, after the way you sold out to Will Tucker, you deserve everything I can dish out. You made me think you were better than that, when all along you were nothing but a whore..."

  WHISH

  WHISH

  WHISH

  "I was framed!" The words burst out of me. I clamped my teeth, appalled that I'd allowed myself to be so distracted by my burning nipples that I actually said it.

  He pulled back his arm in mid-stroke. "What did you say?"

  Fuck it. I might as well tell him the whole story. "I said, I was framed."

  He snorted. "Yeah, right."

  My jaw tightened at his mocking tone. Controlling my fury, I explained slowly, "I was investigating an arm's running ring on Yeman II. We'd broken into one of the computers there. I found files linking Admiral Bryson to organized crime. At first I didn't believe it, but the documentation was just too good. Evidently somebody was compiling a blackmail file on the Admiral."

  He frowned, straightening slowly. "Go on."

  "But my second in command turned out to be in the Admiral's pay. He got word to her somehow. The next thing I knew, Will Tucker had told Internal Security that I'd been taking bribes." I felt my mouth curl into a bitter smile. "It seems they'd just caught Tucker, and he was trying to reduce the charges by cooperating with them." />
  "They railroaded you." With a growl of rage, he whirled and flung the cat into a corner. "All this, just a railroad job."

  "You know, I wasn't surprised Tucker perjured himself; he's scum. But the thing that really disgusted me was the number of people I'd thought were honorable who were ready to help bury me, simply to advance their own careers. Do you know, a dozen crew members came forth claiming to have seen me take bribes. Sure, others said I was clean, but those witnesses were swept right under the rug. They only listened to the liars." I grinned bitterly. "So much for the honor of the service."

  Slowly, he began to swear, his voice low, vicious with rage. I listened to him with growing unease. "I'm telling the truth, Armand."

  "Hell, I know you're telling the truth," he spat. "I've fought you for five years. You can learn a lot about a person in the intensity of combat, the way she thinks, what she will and won't do. The fact is, you're not the type that takes bribes. Your sense of honor is too keen."

  Growling, he flung himself down on the bed and stared at me for a long moment. I shifted uneasily in my bonds, not liking the brooding anger in his eyes.

  "Goddammit, I don't have a choice," he muttered finally.

  "What're you planning, Armand?"

  Suddenly his expression lightened. "I'm planning to fuck your little brains out, that's what I'm planning." He rolled off the bed and came to me, reaching up for the chains that bound me to the ceiling. He unlocked them, then the shackles at my ankles, and swept me into his arms. Reflexively, I encircled his muscled neck with both arms.

  "Armand, what the hell are you doing?"

  He turned with me and lowered me to the bed. "Nothing to be afraid of, Rayna. Just this ..."

  His mouth came down over mine. But it wasn't the raping kiss I'd expected from him; it was gentle, sweet, asking rather than taking with lips that were warm and velvety and seductive. Instinctively, I went limp under him. He gathered me tighter in his powerful arms and settled his weight over mine. His big hands stroked over me, delicately caressing my swollen breasts, drifting over my sensitive stomach. "Tell me if I hurt you," he murmured.

  "Why? So you can gloat?"

  He ignored that crack and went on touching me, brushing my sweating skin, trailing gentle fire over my thighs. The entire time, his dark eyes stared into my face as though trying to memorize each feature.

  It actually took me a moment to figure out what was going on. Armand was making love to me, not fucking me.

  Warily, I dared to touch him, curling a hand around the broad curve of his biceps, tracing the plates of muscle that covered his chest.

  "Oh God," he moaned. "That's it. Just like that."

  I'd never heard quite that tone from him before, not even when I'd sucked him off. He'd growled, he'd purred, he'd snarled, but he'd never spoken so softly, as if I was someone precious to him.

  The idea was novel, outrageous. And very intriguing.

  He brushed his fingers between my thighs, and I let my legs fall apart to allow him access. I shuddered at the feeling of his fingers touching my most sensitive flesh.

  "You're so creamy," he whispered. "Do you want me, darling? Are you ready?"

  I half moaned, half laughed. "I've been ready for two days, Armand. If you don't take me soon, I'm going to go crazy."

  He stood and opened the fly of his trousers, then skimmed them down his hard brown legs. His cock bounced free, standing at a rigid upward angle, dark and engorged. It looked deliciously huge.

  Slowly, moving with that same odd gentleness, he lowered himself over me. I spread my legs eagerly, raising my hips. Carefully, he directed the round plum head to my soft pussy. I felt it probe, find the creamy opening, start the long, endless inward slide. I gasped, letting my eyes fall shut at the raw pleasure of it. He was so big, he filled me so full ... He was everything I needed, everything I'd hungered for so long.

  "Open your eyes," he whispered. "Look at me."

  I obeyed, and he kissed me, stroking his tongue deeply into my mouth even as he began slowly thrusting that marvelous cock into me. Too slowly. I was already so close to coming that I could feel my climax just out of my reach. Unable to resist, I began to buck into him, wanting him deeper, faster. His cock felt so good, so hard, so smooth... I wrapped my legs around his narrow waist and ground against him, panting.

  "Wait," he moaned. "I'm not going to be able to hold back if you ..."

  "Then don't hold back," I gritted. "Fuck me, Armand."

  For just a moment he froze, as though he couldn't believe I'd said it. Then he began to lunge hard into me, letting me feel his strength, his power. I clung to his broad shoulders and felt the first waves break, searing my nerve endings with the raw pleasure that centered on the huge cock banging away at my wet cunt.

  I threw back my head and screamed, convulsing. Distantly I heard his masculine roar.

  When I woke the next morning he was gone. I didn't see him again for two weeks.

  Though a crewman came by three times a day to bring my meals and take me for a turn around the ship, I was bored out of my mind while he was gone.

  Then I discovered Armand's collection of pornographic sims. With nothing better to do, I started working my way through them. All of them seemed to deal with rape: ruthless spycatchers and enemy female spies, commandos and pretty prisoners of war, security experts and lovely cat burglars. The chase, the capture, a little erotic torment. Then the hero would start exploring his victim's every orifice with such skill she was soon moaning in pleasure, his very willing slave.

  The day he came back, I was stretching my asshole. Having felt that big cock in my pussy, I'd decided it behooved me to prepare myself.

  I'd found a weird chair in a closet. It was tall like a barstool, but its seat was made of leather in the shape of a western saddle, complete with saddle horn and stirrups.

  There was a second, longer projection sticking up from the seat. It was shaped like a penis, and I had a pretty good idea where it went. He'd been gone a week when I decided to try it out.

  The one I was watching today was particularly nasty. A lovely female kidnap victim had had the bad luck to fall prey to a captor with a taste for anal rape and a cock like a club. Bound and gagged, she was bent over the back of a couch and waiting for him to slide it into her virgin orifice. Of course, she was making pleading noises behind her gag, it apparently being a crucial part of the fantasy for the girl beg for mercy.

  It wasn't in my nature to beg for anything, but if my whimpering would make Armand that hot, I decided to give it a try.

  Holding onto the saddle horn, I settled into the saddle, feeling the long, greased length of the dildo slide up my ass. It was painful, but I'd discovered that the sensation was also incredibly erotic.

  On the screen, the kidnapper was pressing the head of his enormous prick to the girl's tiny pink bud. Watching him force it inside, I ground down on the dildo, imagining what it would feel like when Armand did it to me. He was so much bigger than the fake cock I was fucking...

  Grinning in triumph, the kidnapper settled into giving his victim a long, slow ream. The camera focused on her desperately spread asshole clamping his cock as it screwed in and out. She groaned in pain at his width.

  Pinching my nipples hard, I rose in the stirrups, then slid back down to torment my own anus. God, I was hot. I wondered if Armand had ever watched this sim and masturbated, fisting his prick as he imagined raping my ass. Did he get hard thinking about my tight rectum and the creamy pleasure he'd find in making brutal use of it? Did he dream of me begging him for mercy, of my soft moans?

  The victim was beginning to whimper in pleasure now, feeling the first masochistic delights of taking a big cock in the ass. Her hips lifted, and she made a short backward thrust. Her captor smiled. "I told you I'd make you like it," he growled.

  I grabbed the saddle horn and began to ride the dildo faster, embracing the pain and pleasure of it as the victim began to buck onto her rapist's rectum reamer. Shuddering, I
felt the clenching of orgasm begin.

  When the kidnapper pulled the girl's cheeks apart to reveal her swollen anus dewed in sperm, I screamed out my climax.

  The next day I lay sprawled across the bed, brooding.

  I'd come up with an escape plan.

  It wasn't bad, really. It was simple, uncomplicated, with the added advantage of being ironic. Using one of the whips I'd found in the armoire as a garrote, I'd grab the crew woman who brought my meals and force her to take me to the hanger bay. Then I'd steal a shuttle, gambling that they'd be reluctant to shoot their captain's very expensive slave. Of course, I might not make it to the hanger, and if I did, they might blow me to hell anyway, but it was worth a try. And certainly, if I'd been anybody's prisoner but Armand's, I would have done it in a heartbeat.

  But I was Armand's captive, and the fact was that my nifty, simple, ironic little plan was one I had very little desire to try.

  How the mighty had fallen.

  The thing was, I had always lived a rather limited life; my existence had centered around the Stellar Patrol and my ongoing battle with Armand. The Patrol was out of my life for good, but there was still Armand. And somehow, I couldn't quite bring myself to cut that last connection.

  Besides, I was a slave. Even if I succeeded in escaping, my very genetic code would trigger an alert whenever I tried to rent an apartment or purchase an aircar. Or even food, for that matter.

  Turning my head restlessly on the pillow, I saw the figurine of the Armand calvary officer and his pretty captive. "You're so full of shit, Rayna," I muttered to myself, suddenly disgusted with my own rationalizations. "This has got nothing to do with being a slave. You just don't want to leave him."