Misty Dawn & the Raven

Catherine wrung her hands and paced close to the door. She could hear muffled thuds and bumps from within. A fear gripped her soul as she paced, there was something she could not put her finger upon that was clawing at her mercilessly. She knew that Dawn was much more suited to her tasks than Catherine would ever be, and her own fear of the devil beyond the door held her in a nervous checkmate on the opposite side of it.

Just as she had resigned herself to fretting kind of worry, knowing that her former servant, now masterful mistress would handle the situation perfectly whether Catherine worried or not; a new terror seized her. Catherine did not manage to gasp, as her mouth was sealed tight by the filth-covered fingers that clasped her lips in a manacle grip. Her arms flew up to fend off an attack and then were stayed at the sight of the broad bladed knife that glinted cruelly before her eyes just before it slid beneath her jaw to press its cool sharpness to her thin throat.

"Remember me, crone," the familiar, rum soaked hiss of Robbins licked like a flame from the deepest pit of hell over her ear just as she felt the portly body cinch itself hard to her back. With eyes spread wide as unclipped florins, Catherine could only nod hastily, if not vigorously into the gripped hand over her mouth and the steel at her neck. "Well then since there seems to be no need for introductions." Robbins grinned, savoring his regained power. "I 'ld wager that the cap'n's other bitch is right now mesmerizing good cap'n Duvall with her soiled charms, in there," Robbins indicated with a nudge of the tip of his knife to the door. He was careless enough to let the blade bite Catherine's neck a wee bit. Catherine nodded again, despite the faint trickle and pain that shot across her dark bodice. Using Catherine's weight, coupled with his own, Robbins threw himself through the door to the seedy boudoir.

The door crashed open jarring Duval back into the world, he had been savoring the experience as he watched the gray-green eyes fluttering as the sweet face ashen beneath his grasp. What beauty he held in his powerful hands as what could be the last of her lungs bubbled his coating of seed around his shrinking mainsail and between paling lips. Instantly, Duval fell back in a defensive stance, casting the used corpse aside roughly. The heavy cutlass leapt from his baldric, its razor tip set out from his face even with his nose.

Robbins halted just inside the splintered doorway, his battered hostage draped over his torso blood trickling from her throat and a large purpling mark on her forehead showing her unconsciousness. For a moment, the two men studied one-another sizing up the situation of the short distance between them both. Neither heard the gurgled coughing from the crumpled doll whose arms were sprawled beneath the settee. "Cap'n Duval," Robbins began, "sir, I have come to warn you that your command is under attack." As if on cue, the sounds of exploding gun powered erupted from the direction of the docks.

Duval heard the man's words, then the sounds of fire. His soldier's mind leapt through the progression of what he must do. Never taking his gaze from the dirty sailor before him, he seen his first step, and acted before his mind could even take it into an accounting. Robbins, hearing the first blasts, shot his gaze off Duval to the window to look out at the harbor.

Duval launched himself to save his command as the fool turned, Duval had found that trusting no one was far safer, and cheaper than the course of trust. Robbins stunned head rolled from his shoulders as Duval passed through the door, his cutlass decorated by the old man's blood. Dawn, still gasping for breath pushed herself to a sitting position just in time to see Robbins head roll one way, as if to follow Duval out the door while his body twitched the other into a heap atop the bleeding Catherine.

Dawn shuffled as fast as she could to her fallen co-conspirator, there seemed to still be breath from her lips as she pushed the lifeless body of the old mariner away like a foul bit of rubbish. Pressing the fine silks of her gown to Catherine's neck, ruining it instantly in a far darker color, she screamed past her tears, "FAZUL!"

Fazul was just reaching the side entrance to the boarding house when he seen the front door erupts and the usurping pirate Duval burst from it. His great Saracen blade flashed to his hand, he could do the sultan a great service here. However, his ears held him back. He heard the scream from the upper floor. Haltingly he took a step towards the speeding captain, another scream more laden with terror pulled his giant form back. Spitting in the direction of the docks that were quickly becoming shrouded in puffs of smoke and ringing with the sounds of a small battle Fazul lunged his massive girth through the side door and leapt up the stairs towards the screams that pulled on his heart like the fingers of a gail on full sheets.

*****

Charles' lips were frozen in a determined smile as he fought back to back with Olivia as they pushed their way across the battered deck of the Witch. Duval had certainly made a play for the command, very few of the crew seemed happy for the return of their former captainess. Smoke filled the air as the price for Olivia's command rose higher and higher, tallied by the shrieks of men of both crews.

Duval ran full force up the docks, his boots clapping loudly, but unheard amongst the fray. Ignoring all, he pushed his way to the pair that challenged all his designs. Olivia, the hag, could not be content to drown, perhaps she would bleed? The happy thought of ridding himself of the arrogant master of the Raven pleased him no end. With chance, he alone would be the undisputed master of two fine vessels in a matter of moments. Laughing loudly as he swung up to the raging deck of the Witch, he plucked the well-balanced dagger from his boot. Knowing that Charles' proficiency with a blade was legendary, and far greater than Olivia's he chose the wisest approach, and let the dagger spin through the air.

*******

"Sultan's girl," Fazul breathed heavily as he fell through the door, instantly moving in to the injured Catherine. Covering Dawn's hand with his, he slowly pulled back the edge of the bloodstained gown. Leaning his large baldhead down to allow his ear to feel Catherine's lips. He nodded as he felt the winds of life still present. Lifting his head slightly to further examine the cutthroat, he nodded and said something softly in the beauty of his own language that Dawn had always loved until this instant when she was certain that it was for the worst.

Turning a giant smile to Dawn's lips, Fazul spoke softly, "Go, Sultan will need you, this one will live, though she will wear the traitor's mark." Dawn took the large tattoos of Fazul's cheeks in both her bloodied palms and kissed him. Then as fast as her shuffling gown would allow, she flew from the room, kicking her remaining slipper off to give her an even footing.

*********

Two crews formed a ring on the smoke shrouded deck of the Witch. In its center, Duval stood, his cutlass at easy poise in his hand and his foot pinning a fallen cutlass to the deck just before the dark outstretched fingers of Olivia's hand as she crouched protectively over the prone form of her ally, the hilt of a dagger protruding from the center of his muscled shoulders.

Quiet murmurs rustled between the crews as they waited for the moment when this dispute of command would settle two ships. Returning them all to the normality of the freebooters they all were. The battle was over, hanging in a draw. The only matter now was to wait for the stroke of Pierre Duval's blade would end any challenge to his rule over two ships. Duval could feel it. Finally, he had her, completely at his mercy. First, he was going to savor this moment, he had waited so long to taste this.

"So Madame," he sneered cruelly over Olivia, "it would seem that matters are finally to be settled. As you can see, milady, your luck has ran out and your friends have ran away." Duval could feel his maleness stirring in his moment of triumph. Taking the tip of his blade he lifted her chin, delicately, "Now, Madame, la capitaine, plead, plead for your life to your superior," resting his breeches as he spoke letting his steeled flesh flash out before her face. "Take it," Duval snapped, his lust driving his words, "oui, take it, grant me the pleasure you always denied me and I will grant you a quick passing to hell."

Olivia's large, single dark eye narrowed coldly, she spat on the tip of his displayed cock, "Nay, 'ou bas'arrd, nay, Ee weell neever grant 'ou such a gift!" Duval threw his head back and roared with laughter, this was by far better than if she had taken his offer.

"Very well," Duval lecherously snickered, "but know this, cap'n slut, even after i have tortured you to death, I shall take your decapitated head and pleasure myself with it." Olivia spat in retort, "'Ould dat pleasoor 'our tastes, the cooled suckle of a lifeless skool?" A barrage of laughter erupted from the on looking sailors at her defiance.

"It shall, it shall indeed," Duval hissed with a thin lipped sneer. "No slut I have had has lived to tell the tale, and none shall. So long as I am captain."

The silenced crowded turned at once to the shout from the edge of still lowered gangplank. "There is one!" Dawn shouted forcing Duval to turn his face at the one who would rain upon his gala parade. "And having shared a true captain, can only grant you one service." With that, Dawn raised Duval's pilfered pistol and leveled it across the deck to his head.

Duval laughed, "No more whores!" Drawing his cutlass high to remove the threat to his command before dealing with the impudent slut of the port, he never heard the loud retort. The blast recoiled the pistol in Dawn's hand back to her ear, but through the smoke clouded air she watched the small red rose blossom upon Duval's cold brow. Smoke trickled out of the imploded hole, between his blank staring eyes. The rings of blood that surrounded it struck Dawn strangely, reminding her of the look of a vaginal opening, tiny though it was before he staggered back a pace before collapsing over the gunnel to bob in the foaming tide.

*******

Two months later...

Dawn stood on the forecastle of the Raven, the wind buffeted her crimson locks, and her large gold hoop swung loosely from her right earlobe. Her left hand rested loosely on the hilt of jeweled rapier that hung from the leather shoulder band that ran between her bared breasts. Her right hand toyed with Catherine's dark locks, as she knelt at her captain's feet wearing only a contented smile and the black silk scarf that hung just under the stitched scar on her neck.

The tightness of the crimson leather breeches that clung to her legs felt hot as the evening sun washed over them pleasurably. As did, the comforting feel of the large buckled belt, holding tight to her hip the long, silver inlaid barrel of the French made pistol; and the coiled length of the black leather scourge. Dawn drew a deep breath of the sea air, allowing the sensuous caress of it all fill her body.

The snap of the glass behind her caused her golden loop to shimmer as she turned to face Fazul, "Sultana," the gentle giant smiled, "the sail is that of the witch." Dawn nodded over the mosaic tattoo that Fazul had told her meant strength that decorated her pinked pale shoulder, "Fazul," she said as she turned from the forecastle, "signal Cap'n Olivia, that I would have her dine with me tonight." Glancing a cool sea witch's gaze back to her second mate, "Tell her I have sport for her. Kitty!" Turning and letting her heavy boot toe run roughly against Catherine's ass as a way to get her pleasure moving.

Fazul bowed his tattooed dome and grinned, "Yes, mistress." He turned to the deck and gave the order to signal the witch as Dawn led Catherine, still on her knees across the planks. Dawn paused and turned to shout to Fazul, "Fazul, see to it that the box is ready, Cap'n Olivia does like a good when she visits." Fazul hid his smile at the thought of what awaited the two men who had been found steeling from the Raven's hold. "As your will, Sultana."

THE END

Thanks to those of you who have enjoyed this story in its entirety, Especially the inspiring vision of ~d~. thank you, ~Swash~