Lesbian Captain’s Orders
The pirates took over the convict ship on her sixth day out of
Dartmouth, bound for Virginia. Under cover of darkness, they came
alongside and had disposed of the captain and crew before the few
passengers on board were awake enough to know what was going on. Then,
as the convicts were freed to join the newly triumphant crew, the
cabins were ransacked and the unfortunate passengers dispatched – with
the exception of two.
These two, the pirate leader, a swarthy Brazilian named Madrinos,
who might once have been handsome but for a scar across his face and a
tooth-gapped grin, ordered to be kept for his own unusual pleasure. As
the two young female survivors were thrown together into the hold and
secured for the remainder of the night, they wondered what lay in
store for them. They feared the worst.
The two were both exceptionally beautiful young women from opposite
ends of the social spectrum, and like most young ladies who
acknowledge and appreciate attention of their good looks and
eye-catching figures, they had vied for the attentions of those men of
the crew on the journey to date.
Hence Miss Rosalyn Spencer, a proud but bountifully blessed
daughter of a magistrate (now suddenly deceased) had little love for
Charity Hart, a London girl of doubtful parentage who, with little
more than the gifts God had given her of a firm bust and a pretty,
blonde-framed face, had set out to seek her fortune in a land she now
doubted she would ever see.
Their fates were revealed to them in the early morning. “You’re to
fight each other on the main deck, for the pleasure of the cap’n!”
announced a huge negro who had unlocked the hold. “Be up in five
minutes. The winner stays on board till we reach land – the loser dies
or goes over the side. So make no mistake – this is for your lives. An
the cap’n doesn’t like his women over-dressed!”
And he was gone. Stunned, the two girls looked at each other. They
didn’t like each other, but – strangely the high born redhead
recovered first. Slipping out of her expensive dress she said, “If
that’s it, then you better start praying – our blacksmith’s daughter
taught me how to fight, and I don’t aim to lose!”
And before Charity’s startled gaze, the buxom young woman stripped
off to her sleeveless chemise and knee length knickers, without a
blush. Her head spinning, Charity noticed the swell of thc other
girl’s full bosom and realised that she would have to put her young
body and her knowledge of street fighting amongst the sluts of London
to the ultimate test,
They emerged on deck, blonde and redhead, to find all the pirates
assembled and a large area of the deck cleared. Similarly garbed,
they faced each other. These men killed as a matter of course. Now
they were to be the sport. Each woman was eyed appre ciatively, and
many guineas were wagered. Then Madrinos from his vantage point on
the poop deck, spoke, grinning and showing the black gaps in his
teeth.
“Fight, you proud beauties! Fight for Your lives!” Nerves gripped
at Charity’s stomach, but not so her co-passenger, now turned
opponent. Rosalyn leapt at the blonde and suddenly hands gripped and
tore into Charity’s long tresses. She squealed as the shapely
redhead dragged her forward, pulling her head down. The pirates
cheered as the once refined magistrate’s daughter flashed a
lace-edged knee up into her opponent’s face, and the crunch of bone
into flesh was sharp. So was the pain as Charity felt her nose
crushed, and blood beginning to run from it. Frantically as her head
split in dizzying pain she wrapped her arms around her rival’s waist
and throwing herself for ward, sent them both crashing to the deck,
herself bloodied but atop the other girl, who had suddenly become her
most dangerous enemy. Furiously, they rolled over and over as the
pirates excitement rose in volume. Rosalyn half-cuffed, half-punched
Charity in the head and, belying her genteel up bringing sank her
teeth into the blonde’s shoulder. Charity screamed and slapped and
scratched at the slightly bigger, bustier girl’s face. Suddenly the
redhead howled as her wild blonde rival tore her nails down her
cheekbone bloodily.
They scrambled to their knees, and, remembering the blacksmith’s
daughter, Miss Spencer punched her bare fist into the swell of the
chemise where it covered Miss Hart’s left mound. Charity croaked at
the sickening pain but returned the favour in the bigger breasts of
the other woman. For several minutes the two gasping, sweating,
girls, driven to ferocity by the thought of what would befall the one
who should be the loser, slugged her bare knuckles into each other’s
bodies, like male prizefighters. Unlike the men though, each aimed
and scored viciously in the others highly vulnerable and outstanding
bosom.
Gradually, through the torment, Charity sensed that the redhead’s
shrieks were becoming more intensified, and the blonde found herself
landing two to every one of her opponent’s blows to now mottled and
bruised breast flesh. She was winning, but some sort of compassion
made her desist and drag her tired, dirt-streaked body to it’s feet.
Rosalyn sensed the relief and showed no gratitude. Swaying to her
feet, she ripped open the blonde’s chemise exposing both breasts, as
at the same time she used her knee again, this time driving it into
Charity’s crotch.
As she clutched herself the blonde knew she mustn’t leave herself
defenceless if she wanted to survive, but for a second she couldn’t
help herself. Instead, the vicious, hate-crazed Rosalyn helped
herself to two more bare knuckle blows into the swaying, bared
breasts. Miss Spencer’s natural sadistic streak was in its element.
She kicked out at this slut, this garbage that she would vanquish at
any price – and caught in the stomach, Charity was knocked sprawling
to the deck.
As the redhead loomed over her, showing Miss Hart none
of what she was christened with, the blonde knew fear. It spurred her
reactions. As Rosalyn dropped, aiming to drive knees first into the
downed girl’s bosom, Charity rolled like a cat.
The big redhead slammed into the deck, bellowing in pain and
frustrated rage, to the accompaniment of some laughter from the
onlookers. With a wild fury and energy she was surprised she
possessed, the blonde kicked both her feet into the side of the
kneeling girl’s head, bringing the woman down to her elbows. Then the
city-bred back street fighter wrapped her shapely legs around
Rosalyn’s middle and squeezed, trapping the suddenly sobbing
frightened woman. As the redhead writhed to her back, struggling
frantically to free herself, Charity took hold of Rosalyn’s curly
locks and banged the redheaded woman’s skull down against the deck.
She felt her busty fellow passenger weaken in her resistance
and knew the end was near. Ripping the woman’s chemise from her
body, she unhooked her ankles, rose and hefore a groggy Miss Spencer
knew what was happening, had lifted the bigger woman with one arm
around her neck, the other between her thighs and slammed her down
to the deck, which the shapely, now helpless rich girl hit, face
first. She lay still, it was over!