The Syren: Escape

She turned the corner in the dark stone corridor. The moon cast blue shadows against the cold stone walls. Behind her, she could hear the shouting of guards in the distance, but more pressing was the sound of a pair of hurried shoes, clicking across the floor behind her. Pennington wasn't far behind. His coat flapped behind him like a cape, his sword drawn, shimmering against the moonlight. Mercy's wrists were still bound by the shackles, but the chain has been sundered, and her arms were free.

Mercy charged the wooden door at the far end of the hallway, pushing it hard with her shoulder, then with her hands. She heard the faint clatter of metal inside the weathered, splintering planks of the door. It was locked. She took a few steps back to retreat, but the sound of pursuit drew near. Mercy jumped at the nearby window, pulling at the iron bars in vain. She was trapped.

Pennington rounded the corner and raised his sword. As usual, Mercy met his gaze confidently. "Surrender, pirate!" he ordered.

Without breaking their stare, Mercy strolled toward him, slowly unbuttoning her shirt. "As you wish, Captain," she purred as she pulled the shirt from her shoulders, baring her breasts to him.

His eyes opened wide for a moment in surprise. He even started to drop his sword, but raised it quickly once more and narrowed his gaze. "What are you playing at, insufferable wench?"

"Playing, Captain?" she stuck out her bottom lip, pouting, "I'm hurt." She unlaced her breeches and pushed them to the floor, then continued toward him. Gingerly, she pushed the tip of his sword aside, moving even closer.

He kept a tight grip on his blade, but allowed her to ease it down. "You're but a succubus. and your whorish ways won't sway me from my duty." His tone was stern, but not as convincing as he may have hoped.

She laughed, undeterred. She pressed her body against his, trailing her fingers over his chest. "Oh, come now, Captain Pennington. What woman wouldn't be drawn to such a handsome man as you? Such strength, such power..." Her voice trailed off and she licked her lips.

His left hand curled into a fist as he struggled to resist taking hold of her, and his right refused to release the sword. "Flattery will earn you nothing, harlot."

"It's not flattery, if it's true now, is it, Roderick?" Her thigh rubbed against his growing hardness. "Besides, I can feel how much you want me. Why not take me right here?"

He drew in a sharp breath as she nuzzled against his erection, "I...have my duty."

She kissed down his chest, dropping to her knees before him, continuing her kisses along the bulge in his trousers. "And I have mine." Without waiting for a response, she loosed his pants, pulling out his thick shaft.

Pennington shuddered, conflicted. This must have been a show, surely, but the pleasure that flowed through his veins like a wave was too much to restrain himself from. He stood stiff, tense, as she seized his column.

Mercy's soft, full lips pressed against the head, slowly wrapping around him. He let out a deep groan as her mouth enveloped him. He watched his prisoner as she eased his length into her, nearly coughing as she met the hilt. Pennington couldn't help admiring her almost entirely naked form, clad only in the useless shackles at her wrists. "Filthy slut," he growled, though he wasn't sure if it was an insult or a compliment.

She smiled around him, her eyes dancing as she looked up. Gradually, she slid down to the base, taking him halfway down her throat. The sword clattered behind him, tossed just a short distance from him, and certainly beyond her reach. She expected no less. He would enjoy her, but not all of his caution was lost...yet.

Pennington peeled away his coat, throwing it against the wall, quickly unbuttoning his waistcoat, though his eyes never left her. That fiery stare may have been simply a betrayal of his own pleasure, or perhaps he just didn't trust her. Mercy had a feeling it was both.

Undaunted, she continued her slow seduction. She bobbed her head a few times, then sat up and pressed his cock between her heavy breasts. Her saliva coated him, making it easy to slide her tits up and down his shaft.

Her captor tore away his shirt, baring his chest. Pennington gripped her hair. A few curls escaped between his fingers, but his fist held her firm. All the while, she rocked up and down, as if riding a phantom cock between her legs

"I know your game, pirate," he insisted, perhaps to convince himself.

She ducked her head so she could suck him, much harder this time, eliciting a choked groan from deep in his throat. Her hands grabbed at his breeches, dropping them to his ankles, stripping away his last vestige of concealment.

It was too much for him, "Suck it, you naughty slut," he groaned in a husky voice.

"As you wish, Captain," she replied, then licked her lips. Slowly, she leaned forward and took him into her mouth once more. She quickly built up a rhythm and his hips began to rock with it.

The sound of pounding boots swung around the corner, and came to a sudden halt. A redcoated guard stood astonished, clutching his musket, eyes wide at the sight.

"Back to your post!" barked Pennington, unwilling to cease. "Now, you blockheaded bastard!" The guard spun around, running even more quickly down the hall, leaving them by the locked door.

"Who told you to stop, pirate?" he growled at his prisoner, pushing against the back of her head. She gagged slightly as the tip of his cock pressed against the back of her throat. A line of saliva trailed down his shaft, pooling around the base before running down to his balls.

"Suck your captain's cock, wench! Earn my seed!" he leaned against the hard stone, his muscles flexing against the pleasure.

"Come now, you fucking harlot, suck it!" His face took on the familiar contorted expression of pleasured agony, "Fuck, I'm close!" She moved her mouth faster, taking just the top half in and out of her mouth. Her right hand worked in unison, stroking the rest of him. Finally, she pushed him deep into her mouth, sucking as hard as she could. He fell back against the wall, his eyes clenched shut as a stream of cum erupted into her throat. Pennington growled, his grip tightening as he spilled into her. His breath caught in his throat.

Finally, his fingers eased, and he fell back, panting hard, his ears ringing. The afterglow drowned out nearly everything, even the sound of clattering keys and the scrape of his sword being lifted from the stone floor.

Pennington opened his eyes, expecting to see a patient and submissive woman at his feet. Instead, he was alone. Blinking away the lingering clutches of post-orgasm bliss, he swayed on unsteady feet. His clothes were still scattered, but his sword, his keys, and her clothes were all gone. The once locked door swung on its hinges. He'd been had.