This is my story and is also posted elsewhere.
Disclaimers: NSFW. This has F/M fart fetish content and noncon, so if you're not into that don't read. All characters are 18+, readers should be too. Sections are marked by dotted lines, so for the plot heavy sections feel free to skip to the next set of dotted lines, if you'd like.
--
Red resented the sea. He didn't mind looking over it from his village back in England, but after being stuck working on a cargo ship for weeks it was like he had decided to blame it for all of his problems. The ship never stopped swaying, and the food was always stale, and in the few hours he had free all he had to look at was the vast, lonely expanse of waves. Oh, and the pirates. He also hated the ocean because of the pirates.
His ship had rounded a small island standing above the waves, only to find another ship looking back at them. As his ship came within firing distance, they raised their black flag, sailed close and the crew jumped aboard.
That was when he first saw her: a woman with broad shoulders and her dark black hair in a braid down her back, with a fearsome look in her eye and a saber in hand. She was untying a rowboat while her fellow pirates tossed in jewels as they looted the captains quarters. It seemed likely the undisciplined pirates would be repelled, but the woman still stood like some goddess of warfare, her muscled arms and the gentle curve of her face standing out even in the midst of battle.
Red had never been in a fistfight before, let alone a battle. He was only a deck hand, so the only weapon he had was a mop handle he knew couldn't protect him. He kept to the railing, but as much as he feared for his life, he couldn't take his eyes off the woman, the angel of battle, until she was lowered over the side, alone in the rowboat. His eyes snapped back to battle, just in time to see a loose barrel rolling across the deck straight at him. It hit him in the chest, knocking him overboard.
He plunged down to the water and panicked. Even though he lived in sight of the sea back home, and was working on a ship now, no one had ever taught him to swim. He hit the water hard and started thrashing about, terrified, until he managed to surface.
"Help!" He screamed. "Anyone! Help!" He sank below the waves, still thrashing.
He felt a firm hand grip his arm and lift him up. It was the woman, hauling him into her rowboat. As soon as he was in, she held a knife to his throat. "I can throw you back in the water, or you can live as my prisoner until I find some way to ransom you. Understand?"
Red understood. The woman bound his hands, then grabbed the oars and rowed away from battle, towards the island.
--
He watched the woman eat as they sat alone beside a fire in the darkening evening. Isabelle, she said her name was. Now that he saw her up close, she didn't seem as angelic as before. She had shot some Caribbean bird to eat while foraging through the island's jungle, and now the grease dripped down her face while she ate with her hands.
"You want some, boy?" She spoke with a French accent but was fluent in English.
"My name's Red. And I would, if you'd let me."
"Too bad." She chuckled and tossed him some bread. "That's all you get, boy."
He picked it up and ate with his bound hands. She might not have been ladylike, but she was beautiful. She had taken her hair out of its braid, and it shone in the firelight, locks of it framing her face. He noticed she had undone the lacing of her shirt so her breasts were visible, and his eyes wandered to the curve of her buttocks beneath her baggy pants as she leaned forward to eat.
As he watched her sit, she shifted one cheek to the side and let out a fart. He felt his eyebrows shoot up in shock.
"What do you want now?" she said, watching him.
"It's just... I've never seen a woman do that so openly." What he didn't say was how much he had thought about it. Ever since he was a horny teen back in England, the idea of a woman farting on him had been a source of arousal he didn't quite understand. Most girls tried to hide it, to be discrete if they did it in public at all. Some of his illiterate friends insisted that women in fact didn't fart, ever. But here Isabelle was passing gas like no one was watching.
"What?" she asked. "Do English women not fart?"
"No! It's just... not ladylike."
She laughed out loud. He saw the intense look in her eyes he saw in battle, narrowing like they would shoot forth flames. "Well this greasy bird is, how do the English say, tearing me up inside, yes? So I don't intend to stop. In fact, why don't I show you what it means for me to be 'ladylike'."
She set the bird down, wiped her face, and placed her knife in her belt. Red felt his pulse quicken as she walked to him.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean..."
"No, boy. You are not sorry. But you will be." She grabbed his hair and tilted his head up to look at her. She looked at him intensely, then smiled.
Before Red could process what was happening, she had spun around so her ass loomed just in front of his face. The fabric of her pants smelled of sweat from the tropical heat.
"You think women should not fart, boy?" She pulled his face into her ass crack by his hair, still making eye contact over her shoulder. Red had always felt something for strong attractive women, but there was something about her looking at him like she owned him that made him horny like never before. He looked back at her, eyes wide with fear and anticipation.
Pffffttt
She tensed her ass cheeks, and the warm air of her fart spread across his face. The smell of burnt grease mixed with her sweat damp pants.
"Smells wonderful, yes?" Isabelle laughed aloud. "That is the smell of a woman, boy. Take another."
She pulled his face deeper into her ass cheeks, rubbing his face across the sweaty seat of her pants before bending forwards so her ass pressed firmly against his face.
She tensed her ass cheeks again, this time gently squeezing his face between them.
