Colette And The Treacherous Spy

Note to reader:

Colette and the Treacherous Spy is the fourth episode in the Queensmount Adventure series. You probably hate to be re-directed as much as I do but I really think you will enjoy this story MUCH more if you read these first:

Colette, the Pirate Queen https://literotica.com/s/colette-the-pirate-queen

Sweet Voyage https://literotica.com/s/sweet-voyage

Colette and the Castaway https://literotica.com/s/colette-and-the-castaway

Thank you so much for checking out my story I hope you love Colette and her adventures as much as I do. Leave a comment!

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I don't remember much of my life but I'm fairly certain that I have never had a better time than I'm having with Colette right now. We are in a raucous tavern with a few of her crew as well as dozens of reveling strangers and the ale is flowing like wine. Bawdy songs, loud laughter, strength contests and much riotous behavior with the stunningly beautiful Colette right in the middle of it all. I'm not much of a drinker myself but some of these scoundrels are really putting it away.

Colette and I have returned from our island paradise and are currently outfitting the Queensmount for another voyage. Most of her crew is busy loading the ship while a few of us enjoy the nightlife in this seaside harbor town.

After a time we find ourselves with a couple of hilarious chaps at a table back in the corner. We are all telling stories (lies) and they are drinking themselves into oblivion when I notice that Colette's hand is finding its way higher and higher up my thigh. She is engaging the sailors in conversation and they are enchanted by her beauty and wit while she begins to stroke my suddenly hardening unit through my trousers. I return the favor by running my hand up her bare leg above her thigh-high leather boots, reaching the edges of her silk and lace panties. While the drunken sailors tell of their hardly believable sexual exploits with multiple (and probably imaginary) wenches my fingers find the warm wetness of her smooth pussy and begin to press into her soft folds while she continues to stroke my post until it threatens to poke out the top of my pants.

Colette's face flushes red as her excitement grows and she bites her bottom lip, breathing deeply. Our companions think their racy exploits are affecting her thusly and they double down on the stories, bragging about the wonderful things they have done for the tremendously buxom women of the world and how all the girls are just waiting for another chance to wrap hungry lips around their giant sausages.

When the blowhards stop blabbing to guzzle more ale Colette puts her hot, red lips to my ear and whispers, "I want you now, Boy. Come to the storeroom behind the bar." She sticks her wet tongue into my ear and sucks the lobe for a few moments, causing the swelling in my pants to crescendo.

Colette stands, straightens her skirt, adjusts her breasts, blows a kiss to each of our story-telling friends and the three of us watch her slowly sashay to the bar. She flips a gold coin to Frankie, the beautiful blond waitress tending the bar, and receives a wink and a nod in return. I rise from my seat as Colette walks behind the bar, opens a door, turns to her enraptured audience and beckons me with a long, scarlet-tipped finger.

"What I wouldn't give for a piece of that," drunk number one slurs. "Yer a lucky bloke, indeed."

"Bring back a good story, mate," says number two, equally sloppy.

"I'll give her my best, boys. Don't wait up!" I adjust the tree branch in my pants and make my way behind the bar, entering the door. I close it behind me as much for privacy as to block out the cheers and catcalls erupting in the tavern.

The storeroom is dark and dusty, lit by just a few gas lamps. As soon as my eyes adjust I see Colette leaning her back against a post with her hands behind her. She's watching me like a cat watches a mouse. I walk slowly to her, moving around the casks, chests and barrels that clutter the room. I stand still, just inches from her, with my hands at my sides, gazing into the depths of her emerald eyes and drinking in the beauty of her lovely face and her luscious, red lips. In her high-heeled boots she's nearly as tall as I am and I lean forward slowly, placing a soft, gentle kiss on the corner of her mouth.

As I pull my face back she closes her dark, smoky eyelids and whispers, "Mmmmm. That was nice, Boy." She then grabs me forcefully with both hands, swings her leg up onto my hip and growls, "But I don't want nice!"

Colette attacks my face with her lips and tongue, forcing herself into my mouth and sucking my tongue back into hers. Her sticky, red lipstick is smearing all over both of our faces and necks as we devour each other. She grabs my ass with both hands and grinds my woody into her pelvic bone, writhing her hips up and down seductively. After a few moments she turns my body around roughly and presses herself into my ass while unfastening the buttons holding my pants closed, suddenly releasing the huge erection she alone created. She wraps both hands around my engorged cock and starts to pump away, spreading sticky syrup up and down the shaft while licking and kissing my neck and ears.

Not wanting things to end too soon I force her hands from my over-stimulated mast and turn back to face her. I grab her leg and put it back up on my hip, hold the back of her head firmly, ravenously feasting upon her open mouth, grab my hungry cock and press swiftly into the soaking wet folds of her smoking hot pussy. As I push all the way in, giving her every inch of my love, she throws her head back and moans in pleasure. I can feel the silky, smooth walls of her lovely cave grip and caress my plunger as I start to push and pull, back and forth, rhythmically moving my hips up and down, pinning her hard against the rough post.

After several minutes of languid lovemaking our dance becomes more wanton and animalistic. My hands find her breasts and I massage and pinch her nipples through her silky blouse. She reaches down with one hand and uses her long fingers to provide even more stimulation to my thrusting pole as well as her sopping quiver. The wet, smacking sound of our bodies slamming together fills the storeroom.

"Come for me, Boy," she demands. "And I shall come for you."

"It will be my pleasure, M'Lady." I grunt with the physical exertion and feel that blessed heat rising in my testicles. Colette clamps her pelvic muscles even tighter and the sensual stimulation becomes too much. My cock suddenly explodes with ecstasy and I blast jet after jet of sticky fluid into her pulsating womb. She also reaches the heights of pleasure and her body convulses with the release of all of her sexual energy. We continue to pound into each other, riding the storm waves of our pleasure all the way to the shore until we collapse into each other's arms, spent, satisfied and very happy.

After we hold each other for several long, beautiful minutes she whispers to me, "That was very good, Boy. But I would like to return to the party."

"As you wish, M'Lady." I pull my slippery, wet snake from her snatch and button my pants. Colette straightens her skirt and moves to a small privy at the back of the room. After just a few minutes she emerges looking fresh and clean. My stunningly beautiful Pirate Queen.

We open the storeroom door and are engulfed by a sea of raucous laughter, cheering and yelling. We enter the barroom, ready to take abuse because of our decadent tryst only to find that we have been eclipsed by a large, drunken sailor dancing a jig atop a round, oaken table. The party has gone on just fine without us. We join in with the fun like we'd never left. Colette buys a round for the house and they loudly praise her beauty and generosity.

An hour or so later Colette and I are sharing a meal with the members of her crew, discussing the details and goals of the upcoming voyage when she turns to me and says, in a low voice, "That scurvy looking fellow at the bar is a member of Rupert's crew. Stay here, Boy, and do nothing."

"Yes, M'Lady." She slides out from the booth and makes her way back to the storeroom, moving quietly and stealthily.

Minding my own business but with an eye on the Black Serpent crewman I finish my meal and talk softly with the crew around me.

After about forty-five minutes passes a lovely serving wench exits the storeroom holding a large tray piled with tankards of ale and platters of steaming meat. She has dark, curly hair tied up with a light blue scarf that matches her simple dress that is laced tight to her hourglass waist. Her pretty face is painted in soft colors of greens and golds and her lips are a very kissable shade of pink. My heart skips in my chest when I recognize beautiful Brynn serving drinks and food to the rowdy patrons, drawing longing glances, winks and innuendos from the bold and fighting off the physical advances of the drunk and disorderly.

I had thought I would never see her again and she takes my breath away.

She spends a little too much time talking to Rupert's sailor than I would like while he grins at her lustily. Is she flirting with that bilge rat?

She finally makes it to our table, delivering a load of drinks and food.

I watch her intently as she works and she raises an eyebrow at my stare. "Hello again, M'Lord."

"Hello to you as well, Brynn. You are lovelier than ever."

As I'd hoped the complement brings a wide smile to her pretty lips.

"Thank you, M'Lord. You are so kind."

She drops a huge tankard in front of me and brushes against my shoulder with her hip. A bolt of sexual energy shoots through my body as her hand rests softly on my shoulder.

"I prepared this draft especially for you, M'Lord."

I grabbed the overflowing mug by the handle, raise it to her with a smile and guzzle a large, frothy mouthful. I slam the mug back down on the table and notice a small piece of parchment is stuck to my sweaty palm. As Brynn walks away I drop my hands to my lap and unfold a short, hand-written note.

"Hide yourself in the storeroom and be prepared. C."

I fold the note carefully, put it in my pocket and stand, making a rude comment about having to drain the weasel. After going out to relieve myself I come back into the tavern through the back door and sneak behind the bar to the storeroom Colette and I had so enjoyed just a short while ago. I find a suitable hiding place in a dark corner where I can view most of the room and wait.

It's not long before I hear the door open and Brynn's sweet voice. "Thank you so much for the help, sir. I fear I cannot lift a barrel of ale and am in need the help of a strong, handsome man."

"We all have our needs, lassie." It's Rupert's slimy crewman, following Brynn into the room.

"Here's the ale, sir. I will fetch the whisky we spoke about. I think you will like it."

"You do that, lassie."

I watch as Brynn reaches high up on a shelf to retrieve a dusty bottle, the hem of her dress showing more of her smooth legs as she stands on her toes.

She turns to him and says, "Where are you anchored, sir? I could come to your fine ship and serve you and the rest of your crew. It would be my pleasure."

"Aye. You could provide pleasure, of that I'm sure."

This guy is really making me angry.

"Take me to your ship and the first pleasures shall be yours." Brynn saunters up to him and gives him a sultry wink and a sly smile.

"Well, lassie. I mayn't know my own birthday," he scowls as he draws a nasty looking curved knife from his back belt, "but I know it weren't yesterday. And I know who you be."

As he roughly places his filthy hand on Brynn's arm I sneak up behind him, press the muzzle of my pistol into his lower back and hiss, "Drop that blade, you scum sucker."

He raises both of his hands quickly and drops the knife to clatter on the hard floor. He is clearly familiar with the feeling of a flintlock at his spine. He turns slowly towards me, looks at me with a puzzled face and says, "Stephens?"

I look quickly to Brynn and her wide eyes suddenly squint to flinty slits and her lips press into a razor sharp line. The soft face of Brynn transforms into the angry face of Colette in a heartbeat. Just as I am about to tell her that I have no idea what this rat is talking about she gives a sharp nod to someone behind me. I feel a sudden pain to the back of my head and my lights go out.

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Darkness.

Throbbing pain.

Faint colors in strange dancing patterns on a jet-black field.

My consciousness claws slowly and painfully to the surface. I open one eye and the faint light that enters my head causes another round of sharp pain. My head feels like an iron cannonball as I lift it slightly to take in the surroundings.

The first thing I see is the striking silhouette of Colette standing at a window, looking out over the early morning mists. To my right is the bilge rat, tied hand and foot to a wooden chair. I realize that I am bound in the very same manner. It looks as though he avoided the cold cocking I received because he is grinning at me like a maniac, showing off his missing teeth.

"Mornin', Stephens!" he says in his obnoxiously grating voice. "Come to join the fun, have ya?"

Colette turns slowly from the window; her beautiful face hard, cold and stern. Her dark eyes bore into my very soul as if seeing secrets there even I don't know.

"I am not Stephens," I hiss back at him. As the fog clears from my head the anger rises in my chest.

Colette walks over and stands before me with her hands on her hips.

"You lying son-of-a-bitch."

"But M'Lady! I..." SLAP! She backhands me hard across the cheek sending another cascade of colorful lights across my vision. The raised bruise on the back of my head finds the chair back and my pain is doubled. I nearly fade to black again.

Colette grabs my face harshly and says, "You would do well to keep your cake-hole shut, Stephens."

She gives my chin a hard shove, banging my head against the chair again and stomps out of the room.

When my vision clears I lift my head again to see the rat man leering at me still.

"We been wonderin' where you got to, Stephens. How'd you get in with that witch's gang?"

I bite back my anger and answer truthfully, "They picked me up and took me in."

It suddenly occurs to me that I need to be gathering info rather than giving it away.

"Have ye ever give that saucy wench a poke? I'm bettin' she be a wild ride."

"Not for lack of trying," I lied.

"Well, I shouldn't worry. Captain Rupert will come for me and I dare say he'll be glad to see ya, too. He's missed having regular reports from his best spy."

Just then the door slams open and Colette stomps back into the room.

"I thought I told you idiots to keep quiet. When my men get here you'll be taking a long and very uncomfortable trip."

Learning my lesson I keep my trap shut but my fellow captive hisses, 'We'll see 'bout that, lassie."

Colette turns sharply to the window and resumes her watch as the sun slowly rises above the misty horizon. I drop my head and close my eyes.

Suddenly the door behind me is kicked in violently and I hear heavy boots enter the room. For a moment I think it's Colette's men but then the rat man hollers with glee, "See? Come for me, they have. Just as I said."

I look up and there's a half-dozen cutthroats, heavily armed with knives, swords and pistols forming a half-circle around us, focusing hard on Colette at the window.

"Be a good lass," one of them says in a deep, guttural voice, "and put yer short sword on the floor."

Colette, still facing away from the men, slowly pulls her sword from her belt and drops it, clattering, to the floor. She holds both empty hands shoulder height and slowly turns to face the gang.

The scene holds for several heartbeats until I hear the clip-clop of small boots enter the room behind me. Is that a lady coming in?

"You be in it now, lassie! The Captain's come for me, he has!"

The abject hate beaming from the dark eyes of Colette has redirected from me to the person standing behind me.

A black gunnysack is rudely thrown over my head and my world goes black once again.

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Rough hands loose my bonds from the chair and my hands are again tied behind my back. I hear Colette grunt and curse as, I'm sure, she gets the same treatment. One of the men hollers in sharp pain. I don't envy the blue balls he'll have for the next several days.

We are both dragged outside and tossed into a wooden cart that smells of manure and rotten vegetables. I want to talk to Colette but I know all that will get me is a brutal beating so I just try to get my bruised body as comfortable as possible as we bounce harshly over cobbled stone roads. After a short time the cobblestones turn to dirt and the ride becomes slightly smoother. About an hour later I hear the unmistakable sound of gulls squawking and the dirt road becomes a wooden peer. We finally stop and I am pulled out of the wagon and thrown into a small boat. I feel and hear the oarsman pull us out into the water and a few minutes later we bump against a larger boat. I am forced to stand, grab a rope ladder and told to climb.

When I reach the top I am dragged over the gunwale, down some steps, into a dark, smelly hold and chained to a post. I hear Colette behind me, struggling and swearing. She is clearly not taking the situation as well as I am. I hear what sounds like a cell door open with a loud squeak and then slam. A loud metallic "thunk" tells me a large key has been turned and that she has been locked into a cage.

I don't know how long I was unconscious but I startle awake when I hear shuffling boots enter the hold. The sack over my head is brutally torn away and I blink hard, trying to see in the dim light. There are several rough looking characters gawking at Colette, who is standing at the back of a rusty, iron cage. She matches their leers with a feral scowl. There is another cage next to hers holding another prisoner, clad only in rags. My friend from the tavern is standing next to me holding the sack that he pulled from my head, smiling widely.

"See, Captain? It's like I said! It's Stephens, for sure!" He steps aside, making room for the captain to finally reveal himself.

I'm not really sure what I was expecting but this was definitely not it.

Captain Rupert stands before me and looks me up and down. He is at least a head shorter than I and skinny as a monkey. He's wearing a deep purple, velvet coat fringed in gold with white, silky ruffles puffing out at the cuffs and collar. His tri-corner hat matches his coat and is perched atop his head at a rakish angle. His face is long and thin, as is his nose. His mouth is held in a perpetual sneer. He does not seem to have a chin at all.

His pants are striped purple and yellow and tucked into tight, white stockings just below his knobby knees. His feet are dressed in shiny, black, heeled shoes featuring huge gold buckles.

Captain Rupert may just be the silliest thing I have ever seen.

"Yes. I can see that, Hasp. Thank you." His voice is soft but pitched high with a slight lisp. "Please free the man."

"Aye, Captain." Hasp comes around behind me and loosens my bonds. I rub my sore wrists, trying to get blood back into my fingers.

Rupert squints at me. "I did not know you had infiltrated the Queensmount." He nods in Colette's direction.

"Contacting you would have jeopardized my position, Captain." I've decided my only chance was to play along.