The hessian sack wriggled like a stuffed caterpillar as it was hurled roughly onto the deck of the Mermaid. High-pitched squeals emanating from the bag gave the game away that some outraged creature was struggling within. "Get that into the Captain's cabin, quick snap" shouted the First Mate. "That's precious cargo, worth its weight in gold" he chortled. "Doesn't mean the Cap'n can't have a taste of that soft, ripe morsel before cashin-in the prize" he cackled, much to the amusement of the rag-tag crewmen surrounding him.
Captain Fife was an accomplished pirate and proud of his reputation as a scourge of the Carribean. The former Royal Navy lieutenant wasn't particular whether he stole from Spanish treasure galleons, English trading vessels or French men-of-war, as long as there was a profit in it and a good chance of getting away unscathed.
It wasn't a surprise that he had upset the Spanish Governor of La Espanola by plundering a few of his cargo vessels, but a severe nuisance that he had then sent half his warships to hunt-down Captain Fife with the aim of hanging him from the church steeple of Santo Domingo. However, the audacious plan to raid the Governor's mansion in the middle of the night and to kidnap his new bride was typical Fife. No doubt the Governor would now think twice about the pursuit and throw a fat ransom into the bargain.
The tall, distinguished and smartly-dressed figure of Fife strode into his great cabin at the stern of the Mermaid. Tied face-down in undignified fashion on the chart table, was Isabella, the Governor's young wife, bedecked in the finest-quality, ocean-blue, silk dress and luxurious cotton petticoats. The dark-haired beauty glared at him fiercely with deep, hazel brown eyes, making ferocious noises through a gag that was tied across her pretty little face.
Fife slapped the Spanish aristocrat rudely on the backside, causing the gorgeous creature to struggle vainly against her binds, casting a fresh glare of pure hatred at her captor. The Captain chuckled to himself as he poured a brandy from a fine ship's-decanter into a crystal glass, ignoring the sounds of outrage from the tied-up little, fire-cracker behind him.
Downing his brandy, he poured himself another and laughed out loud when he spied the beeswax candle that some of the crew had fashioned amusingly into a large dildo - a crude joke to celebrate the capture of his new "bride". Picking-up the fake prick, he presented it to the trussed-up lady: "I bet you haven't seen a hard one like this since marrying that fat, old fart Don Carlos" he mocked.
Fife swigged the last of the brandy directly from the decanter and inspected the elegant Spanish lady entirely at his mercy before him. Fife wasn't really the merciful type and Dona Isabella was truly beautiful to behold, slim, young and bronzed in a sun-kissed fashion. He had a keen instinct for women and knew from the fierceness of his captive that she had a wild spirit, which would never have been satisfied by her ugly and decrepit husband.
The strong liquor played its part and Fife had been at sea far too long not to feel a surge of lust towards this sweet-smelling, finely-curved specimen of femininity. He approached Isabella from behind and stroked his calloused hands over the swell of a perfect bottom enclosed in soft silk. He rubbed his crotch against her and leaned over to smell her long, dark hair and the floral perfume that still lingered on this gorgeous creature.
