Bold in Her Breeches

In the years since he had escaped the Dublin orphanage, the creak of rope and hawser and the slow roll of a wooden deck had become his world. The H.M.S. Greystoke had become his home. In truth he barely remembered his life before, barely even remembered the name the cruel nuns had called him. Now he answered to the name he had been given as a boy by the handsome Commander he had followed around the docks, admiring his splendid uniform and his elegant bearing. He was Mutt and proud to be.

Now the Commander was a Captain and the Mutt his man. And though the grown Mutt stood a head taller than any crewman on the ship, he never forgot the duty he felt to the man who had taken him in. And though as an Irishman he could never hope to rise above his station as crewman in His Majesty's navy, Mutt was content. The work had made him strong and tough and had given him purpose. It was his pleasure to serve.

But as he stood in his Captain's cabin, he was a bit troubled. Captain Bowie seemed preoccupied, fussing with his desk and gazing out the window at the smooth expanse of sea. The Captain turned and looked him over. Mutt's shaved head and devilish beard gave him the look of a warrior, but his warm, blue eyes spoke of poetry and passion. The Captain seemed pleased with his charge.

"Tell me, Mutt. How is the crew morale?'

"Same as always, Sir. No better. No worse."

"I'm sure there are questions."

"Aye, Sir. Some wonder why we seem to sail without destination."

"You have always been a smart lad. What are your thoughts?"

Mutt made a show of pondering, though in truth he had figured it out long before. "Well, Sir. We took on a cargo of gold without the usual secrecy. The casks we loaded seemed

too light to bear such a precious cargo. And now we sail idly in pirate waters...."

"Very good, Mutt. Go on."

"Well, Sir. If I had to guess, I'd say we was bait."

"Well done, man. Well done."

"I do have a question, Sir, if I may?"

"Of course, Mutt."

"Is it true that the pirate captain, Captain Oatlash... is a woman?"

Captain Bowie laughed.

"A woman? A pirate captain a woman?"

"Well, Sir, there are rumors."

"And that is all they are. A woman? Women are soft and fair and delicate, not the type to command men of the sea."

The Captains gaze turned to the portrait of his wife that hung above his desk. His hand drifted to the front of his trousers as he spoke.

"Yes, soft and delicate. God, I miss her so."

Mutt could see his Captain's member rise under the stroking of his hand. He knew what was coming, this was always the preamble, but he did not mind.

"Mutt? I know it has been a while. ..but would you...?"

"Of course, Sir."

Mutt knelt before his Captain and began to unbutton the heavy wool trousers. The Captain's long, slender cock sprang free, hard as a spar. Mutt took it in his mouth and began his ministrations. He licked it and sucked it as he had always done when his Captain grew lonesome for his wife. Captain Bowie's eyes never left the portrait of his lady, even when he shot his load of salty jism down Mutt's throat.

Mutt had just begun to straighten his Captain's uniform when a cry came from above-decks, "Sail ho! Red Sails to starboard!"

***

Combat is chaos. Combat at sea even more so. Countless historians have written endless tomes describing the great sea battles, but their work owes more to the art of fiction than the discipline of history. Mutt could not say how the H.M.S. Greystoke was lost, only that it was. The course of the battle he knew nothing of. He could only recall what transpired before his sweat-stung eyes.

When the cry of "sail ho" reached the Captain's ears, he flew from his quarters to the foredeck. So quickly did he depart, he left his spyglass behind. Mutt retrieved it from the desk. He also took a moment to wash his mouth with a swish and a gulp of the Captain's bottle of brandy. Then he raced to his master's side.

Captain Bowie stood at the rail, gazing at a speck in the distance. He took his spyglass from his man's hand without even acknowledging his presence. Mutt stood by, awaiting orders. The Captain peered through the glass for long minutes. The speck became a ship. A ship with red sails. As it drew closer, the familiar flag of the pirate could be seen billowing from its mast. But as the pirate ship drew near, it could be seen that instead of the usual skull and bones, the flag bore the image of a skull with a single rosebud clenched between its grinning teeth. As the pirate vessel tacked into the wind, the name on its stern grew visible - The Sappho. Closer still it came, until the form of its Captain could be seen on the forecastle. It was indeed a woman, and a woman indeed.

She was a proud beauty. The man's breeches she wore could do nothing to disguise the womanly swell of her hips. The loose cotton blouse she wore flapped open in the breeze, revealing that she wore no undergarments. Her breasts were unrestrained in the fashion of a wanton. Her hair was chopped as short as a man's and no rouge or powder painted her cheeks. A coiled whip hung from her wide, leather belt.

Mutt looked to his Captain as the pirate drew nearer and nearer, but still he made no move. He might have been a statue, but for the single tear that ran down his pale cheek. The crew was becoming restless. Mutt decided he must take matters into his own hands.

"All hands to battle stations! Beat general quarters! Open the gun ports!"

"Belay that order!"

"But, Captain..."

"I said belay that order. All hands prepare to repel borders"

"But Captain, shall we not fire a few salvos to soften her up?"

"You have your orders."

Mutt looked into his Captain's reddened eyes. He could only describe what he saw there as regret.

"You mean to take her alive?"

"You have your orders, Mutt. Look sharp."

Mutt dashed to the Captain's cabin to fetch his master's cutlass. As he took it from its hooks beneath the portrait of the Captain's wife, he took a moment to gaze longingly at her soft features and prim smile. His rough, sea life had only allowed him the pleasures of the wenches who haunted the docks of the many ports the Greystoke had visited, coarse harlots with hot mouths and strong thighs. He wondered for a moment what kind of lover such a delicate woman would be. Then he shook himself from his revery and raced to his Captain's side.

The Sappho did not fire at them, obviously unwilling to risk sending a cargo of gold to the depths. This battle would be fought steel on steel. The hulking freighter drew alongside. The Captain drew his blade. Mutt stood at his back, each hand filled with a double-edged bodkin. The pirates swarmed over the side of their ship as the two vessels collided starboard to starboard. The ring of steel and the screams of men filled the air. The captain cut a swath through the rogues, making his way towards the pirate queen. Mutt guarded his back, deflecting swords with cross blocks and drinking deep of pirate blood.

Soon the two captains stood face to face. Mutt pressed his back against his Captain's, to let him know it was protected and he could turn all his attention to disarming the wench. But Mutt heard no clash of steel, no grunts of combat. He lowered his guard as he turned to look behind him. He caught a glimpse of the two captains, staring into each other's eyes. Then a belaying pin crashed down on his skull and he saw no more.

It was a flicker of candlelight that greeted his eyes when they opened again. He was on a ship, this much he could tell. His wrists were clapped in irons. He was hanging naked by his hands from a beam in the hold of a ship. His captain was hanging with him, naked as he was. Belly to belly they hung. The Captain spoke to him.

"Are you injured, Mutt?"

"My head is a bit sore. My hands are tingling. But, no Sir. I'm fine. And yourself?" "Knifed through the heart, Mutt. Straight through the heart."

Mutt did not have to look down at his Captain's unmarked chest to know he was not speaking of a wound. At least not one that could be mended with suture. The sad look in his eyes told all.

"Where are we?" Mutt asked.

"Aboard the Sappho."

"How did..."

The question was interrupted by the arrival of the pirate captain. She strode in on thigh-high boots. She circled the two men, taking in the sight of their naked bodies, one tall and broad shouldered, the other slight and slender. She walked behind Mutt and ran her fingernails down his back and across his bare ass. She spoke, a lilt to her feminine, yet strong voice.

"This is a fine one, Bowie. I thought your tastes ran more towards girlish lads."

"Leave him out of this Natasha."

"Oh, Bowie. Always giving orders. You should have learned by now I don't take them well."

Mutt was confused. "Natasha?" he asked.

"Oh, he doesn't know?"

"Please, Natasha. Let him go. Your quarrel is with me."

"I've plenty of quarrels to go around."

Mutt's mind was swirling. He looked at his Captain and how he looked at the woman. He looked at her face. And then he knew. The sassy wench who stood before him and the delicate lady in the Captain's portrait. They were one and the same.

The Captain's wife laughed as she recognized the look of awareness that passed over Mutt's face. She slowly uncoiled the whip from her belt. Black, it was, and as long as a man's leg. She slid the coarse leather over the two men's naked bodies like a snake. With her leather-gloved hand she stroked their cocks and weighed their balls. She squeezed herself between their sweaty forms and kissed the captain's chest. Then she took a vicious bite into his nipple. He screamed and writhed until she stopped.

"Ah, Bowie. You could always give but never take."

And then she set to work.

She whipped her husband. Not the hard, rhythmic blows of a flogging, but with an artistry that was equal parts pain and anticipation of pain. At each blow, the Captain's body would buck against Mutt's, their cocks slapping together. After a time she ceased the whipping. She dropped the whip and stood beside the men again. She took a cock in each small hand. She began to stroke them. The Captain resisted her attentions, but Mutt, having not received the taste of the lash, could not help but grow hard. She smiled at him, then dropped to her knees and took him into her mouth. She sucked him with a skill Mutt had only known once, that from a whore in Lisbon. As Mutt groaned with pleasure, despite himself, she would look up at the Captain's face, as if relishing the anguish she saw there. But the anguish did not hold. The sight of his wife sucking the cock of his man proved exciting to the cuckolded husband. His cock began to swell. Natasha grinned a wicked grin and held the two cocks side by side. She playfully toyed with them, comparing them. One long and thick, with a large purpled head. The other slender and pink, its tip no wider than its shaft. She kissed them both and said with a laugh, "Ah, Bowie. You were built for buggery. But this is a cock to fill a woman and make her scream."

"Damn you, Natasha." It was all the Captain could choke out before he moaned with pleasure as the Pirate Queen took both of their cockheads into her hot mouth. She slathered them with her tongue, rubbing them together as they had done themselves on many a lonely night. She alternated one to the other, sucking and licking, taking them deep into her throat. Mutt could stand it no longer. His breath grew hot and his moans grew louder. Natasha turned all her attentions to him. In seconds he shot his load of hot jism into her wanton mouth.

She stood and smiled at the Mutt. Then she turned and spat his load of cum into the Captain's face. A rope of it slid down his nose and across his lips. She leaned up to him and kissed his mouth hard.

Then she stepped back from the two men. Mutt hung his head in shame. The Captain looked enraged, but his cock still stood at attention. The pirate took up her whip from the floor and looped it around Bowie's cock. She used it to turn him to her.

"You withstand torture well, Bowie. But then, you were married to me. But how well will you handle it when the whip falls on the back of your man?"

"Damn you, Natasha. You know I will never tell you whatever it is you want to know." She laughed long and hard. "Oh, Bowie. What makes you think I want to know anything?"

She walked to the hatchway, then stopped and looked back at the two naked men. She put her hands on her hips and shook her head.

"Oh this will never do. I wouldn't want you to get lonely during the night."

She walked back to Mutt and grabbed him by the waist. She spun him around until his ass was against his Captain's hard cock. She reached around him and gripped his ass cheeks, spreading them apart, then letting them go. The Captain's cock was caught between them. She stroked Mutt's face with her leather-clad hand. "There. That should be more familiar, right Bowie?"

She gave the Mutt a little kiss and gave his withering cock a last squeeze.

"Sleep well, Matey. Tomorrow it is your turn."

And then she was gone. The rocking of the ship caused Bowie's cock to thrust against Mutt's ass and his chest to slap against his back. The clink of the chains around their wrists and the creak of the timbers was the only sound. The lantern grew dim. Darkness fell.

When he heard his Captain quietly weeping, Mutt began to scheme.

"Yes", he whispered, "Tomorrow it is my turn."

As the sounds aboard the Sappho faded, Mutt stilled his breathing and settled in to wait for the bell to sound the night watch. He could feel the hot tears of his Captain against his broad, naked back. His shackled arms had gone from aching to numb and Mutt knew he could not wait too long to put his plan into action. He had no way of telling the passage of time in the darkened hold and, after a while, realized that the roguish pirates did not ring the time as was customary aboard a proper British ship. He would have to risk action soon.

When the ship had been quiet for a time, be whispered to his Captain, "Sir. Sir. Captain Bowie, are you awake?"

The moans from his master increased and he began to mutter, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," over and over. Mutt knew he was on his own and could only hope that when the time came, the Captain would come through. Ignoring the pain in his wrists, Mutt swung his legs up to the beam from which he and his Captain dangled. Working with his strong legs and his weakened grip, he was able to clamber atop the wooden beam. His chained wrists prevented him from properly straddling the rail, but now, at least, the pressure was off of his arms and feeling began to return to his hands. He balanced himself as best he could and tried to rest. Morning would come soon and he must be ready for the pirate bitch to return. The Captain's weeping subsided as he fell into merciful unconsciousness. Mutt fought sleep and lost.

***

The sound of heavy bootsteps on the deck above stirred him from his wretched dreams. He listened and tried to judge the positions of the pirates. If he swung down too soon, his arms would grow numb again and his plan would die aborning. The Captain hung like so much dead meat.

It was a sudden quickening and crispness of the movements on the deck above that told Mutt the pirate captain was approaching. He swung himself down from his perch and feigned unconsciousness. He heard the door to the hold swing open and a splash of salty water hit him and his captain in their faces. He roused himself. His captain croaked out a curse at his estranged wife.

Mutt opened his eyes and saw her dismissing the scurvy lout who had flung the water, adding a barked order that she was not to be disturbed. Perfect.

"Well, Bowie. I trust you slept well?" She laughed a wicked laugh. The Captain tried to spit, but his mouth was too dry. Captain Oatlash (it had been her maiden name) stroked Mutt's broad back with a leather-clad hand.

"My, such smooth skin. You must be a good sailor. Hardly flogged at all. We'll just have to fix that."

She again uncoiled the bullwhip from its hook on her leather girdle and snaked it over his body. She prodded Captain Bowie's chin with the butt of it to be sure be was awake to witness what was to come. Mutt set his jaw and prepared for the worst.

She lashed him hard across his bare ass. The impulse to scream was strong. But instead, Mutt let out a moan of pleasure. She struck again and Mutt licked his lips and said, "Mmmm." She struck again with greater and greater force. Mutt could feel the skin of his buttocks tear, but he gave no cry of pain. Instead he turned inward, the strength of his will allowing his mind to transform the pain to pleasure, as he had learned as a boy when the Captain had first begun to bugger his tight bung. He turned his thoughts to memories of the voluptuous wenches he had taken his pleasure with on his many shore leaves. He thought of the girl he had met on the small island with the huge stone heads. She had walked up to him boldly, as if she had not been as naked as the day she was born. Her breasts were round and brown and her nipples as dark as chocolate. The thatch between her legs was as thick and black as the curls on her head. He remembered how she had gasped at the size of his member, how she had coated it with oil from a coconut shell before she got down on all fours and opened her ass to him.

Captain Oatlash was growing frustrated now. She stopped the flogging and turned Mutt to her. Her eyes widened when she saw his thick cock jutting out toward her, hard as nails. He looked her dead in the eye and said, with lust in his voice, "Is that all you got, Mrs. Bowie?"

She laughed.

"Well, well, Bowie. It seems you found the perfect plaything. Myself, I never enjoyed your sadistic ways. Oh, I could fake it fairly well. I faked a lot of things during our marriage."

The Captain hung his head.

Mutt strained at his chains and licked the pirate queen across her wanton mouth. He smiled at her. She laughed again and stood up on tiptoe and kissed his full lips. She dropped the whip and stripped off her gloves. She grabbed his cock in her small, rough hand. She began to stroke it as she probed in his mouth with her hot tongue. Their passionate kiss grew frenzied as she milked his hard rod. Mutt mustered his deepest bedroom voice and said, "Ah, you beautiful creature. Jack me off. I know I'm too big to fuck, since all you've known these months is your own slender fingers."

She giggled an almost girlish laugh and replied, "Oh you men. So predictable. I've had my share of cock, but never one as handsome as this. Your captain might feel large to you when he's fucking your bilgehole, but he was never able to fill me."

Captain Bowie moaned in his shame. Captain Oatlash got a wicked gleam in her eye.

"Oh, Bowie, have I touched a sore spot? Perhaps it would do you good to watch me fuck this stallion. To watch your man give me what you never could."

She pulled the key to Mutt's shackles from her boot and unclasped his irons. Mutt fell to the deck like a sack. He let his arms dangle. She rolled him onto his back. His cock jutted up like a mast. The pirate captain tugged off her boots and breeches and began to stroke the hairy nest between her muscular legs. She had already grown wet from whipping him, excited by her perverse desires. She straddled Mutt and sat down on his cock, impaling herself. She gasped theatrically, but the look of pleasure in her eyes was reaL She began to ride him like a hobby horse, rocking back and forth. He felt her juices drench his big balls. She dug her nails into his chest, leaving thin stripes of blood.

Mutt thrust his hips into her, fucking her as best he could in his weakened state. It was enough. After a time she screamed like an alley cat and he felt a gush of cum drench him. Though his mind was on other matters, his body was hers. He shot hot jets of jism into her and she squealed with delight. Then she collapsed forward onto his chest. It was what he had been waiting for. He kissed the top of her head, then his supposedly deadened arms sprang up and he caught her around the throat with strong hands. Before she could react, he put his mouth to her ear and said, "I could snap this pretty neck right now. But if you wish to live, you will do exactly as I say."