Dahlia DeLabron, also known as Black Dahlia, pirate queen of the Caribbean looked down at her prisoner. Osmond had been a good navigator, handsome enough that she noticed him once or twice, not bad in a fight the few times her ship had come under attack. There had always been something odd about him, just a bit off. Now she knew what it was. He was a spy.
A day ago Dahlia had been hiding her latest take of loot from an English supply ship on its way to Port Royal. The cargo taken was valuable but too heavy to cart around until a buyer could be found. If one of her majesties frigates were to find ship, "The Spanish Dancer", so laden there'd be no chance at escape. So the goods were buried on one of a dozen small, isolated islands and the ship set out. About an hour later her first officer reported their charts and compass were missing, about five minutes after that they realized that Osmond was missing as well.
The ship sped back and she had search parties scour the island to find her missing crewman. The deserter was found trying to launch a small boat someone had hidden for him there but the charts and compass were gone. He'd apparently hidden them somewhere when he realized his capture was imminent. A search for the missing navigational items turned up empty and thirty lashes tied to the main mast hadn't gotten her prisoner to confess. Time was running out because Dahlia knew her majesty's navy must have now been searching the area for the missing merchantman she'd sent to Davie Jones locker (after looting it's cargo, of course).
Osmond had stood up to his beating well, endured the lashes even better. She was impressed but that wouldn't grant him any mercy. It was obvious that he was tough and wasn't going to be broken by the usual methods. Maybe it was watching him shirtless enduring the lashes, maybe it was the look on his face when the whip hit him...so much like the face a man made when he climaxed. Maybe it was the rum, as Dahlia was known to down a jug or more when feeling frustrated. Whatever it was, as she looked down on her prisoner, tied face up on her bed, a tingle had already started deep in her loins.
Osmond was exhausted; his body ached from the beating and whipping. He was sweaty, dirty; the raw lash marks sticking to the rum and sweat stained sheets below him. His dream of a comfortable life, rich and respected, a hero to the crown was over. His plan was a good one, one that had almost worked. Even now, there was a slim chance the "Champion" would find "The Spanish Dancer", maybe even catch her and board her but he was certain Captain Delabron would slit his throat before the first grapple lines hit her ship. There would be no dramatic rescue for him. The navigator knew his fate was sealed.
"You've taken your licks Osmond; I must say I am impressed. Very impressed, but you know and I know that you are going to tell me where those charts and compass are. It's only a matter of how much more you are going to suffer." Dahlia began, stroking her navigator's cheek, and sitting on the bed beside him.
Her captive chuckled, "Tell you? Why? So you can get what you want and kill me? No thanks, Captain. If I'm fated to die, I'll die my way. And as for things we both know, let's add something to that list. We both know that if I were going to break, I would have done so by now. I've accepted the fact that I am never leaving here alive, you'd better accept the fact that I'm not going to tell you where your charts and compass are."
The captain almost drew her pistol and put a hole in her prisoner. His words made her blood boil, because she knew that the bastard was right. She'd seen men break, seen them beg for mercy and their lives. Osmond wasn't going to break. He had her, trapped, a perfect checkmate. She couldn't kill him and he couldn't tell her where the charts were. She had no idea what a clever son of a bitch Osmond was, she'd been impressed before but now...it was almost admiration. The brass balls on the man...even helpless, with his life hanging the balance, he stood his ground. She felt a slickness and throb rise in her sex. Here, at last, was a real man. She smiled, took a drink from the jug and then put it down beside the bed. Dahlia looked down at him, put her hand on his chest and said, "It doesn't have to be this way, Osmond."
Osmond looked up at her with suspicious eyes. "Of course not, you could release me."
"You want release...maybe I can arrange that." She reached down and took up the jug of rum, offering it to his lips, "Drink."
He smirked up at her, "No thank you captain, I don't drink."
Her smile vanished, replaced by that fire behind her eyes that burned when she was locked in combat. Her hand flew out, smacking him soundly across the face. "I wasn't asking you, bilge rat. Now drink!" She then grabbed him by the hair, yanking it so hard some of it tore lose from his scalp and poured rum into his open, gasping mouth. He sputtered and choked, but she slammed her palm over his mouth, forcing him to swallow the thick, sweet fluid or drown in it. He swallowed, drinking down a goodly amount, his head swimming.
"You bitch, that was vile. It's the devil's drink!" He closed his eyes, as the alcohol coursed through his empty stomach and into his bloodstream.
Dahlia laughed, "The devil's drink? Maybe we should get you a wet-nurse, let you suckle some mothers milk." The captain scooted higher on the bed, reached up to her bodice and pulled down the chemise over one breast. It was pale, the tan line showing clearly as her visible skin was constantly exposed to the warm Caribbean sun. The tip of her breast surrounding her nipple was dark, dark as rum, dark as a plum. Osmond could hardly believe what he was seeing. Dahlia caressed the nipple with her fingers, twisted and tugged her teat, teasing it to fullness. She then cupped the underside of breast with her hand, lifting the full round globe of her womanly flesh to her captive. "Here Osmond, take a suckle on this. It seems to be more to your liking."
Osmond shut his eyes and turned away. The captain then leaned forward, pressing her bare breast all over his face, hissing with pleasure as the pebbled flesh of her dark areola scrapped against his stubble. These made her captive shiver, close his eyes tighter and try to turn even further away. She pressed her breast over his mouth, pushing it down flat over his tightly closed mouth. "Osmond, come out and play...mmmmm, just a suckle on my tit. Nobody's watching..." she teased her captive.
This made her navigator thrash on the bed. He screamed, "Get away from me! Cover yourself up, you shameless slut! Have you no decency?"
Captain Dahlia was getting more and more aroused but his words threatened to put her off her tonic. She pulled out a blade from behind her bodice and held it above his head. She yanked his hair, turning his head to her. "No, I bloody well don't! Now, you suck on my tit or I'll fucking have your eye! If you try to bite me, I'll cut off your balls and use them to bait a lobster pot! You try me Osmond, you fucking try me and you'll end up a one eyed, ball-less freak!"
