The Last Sailor For A Sea Slut

The soft creaking of wood hulls against rubber bumpers brings a eerie timbre to the atmosphere. Early morning fog obscures the slicker-clad figures moving in and out of the density, rolling barrels filled with drinking water and cargo.

Bellsea is an industrial port. Most of the ships here are used for transport, or to pull deep-sea squid from the ocean. Battered by decades of floating in the heavily salted waters, the vessels are tarnished and filthy, and the men that work these docks are the same.

Gavi hasn't been to this side of the marina before. A tall, brown beauty, she's been contracted by the Captain of one of the fishing vessels to entertain his crew during a three-night voyage out into the bay. These men are some of the hardest workers on the mainland, bringing in a substantial haul of squid to the desperate community. Relieving them of their sorrows was more than just a job for Gavi, she very much enjoyed it.

A low, clanging bell breaks the stillness and announces the departure of the day's first ship. Gavi kicks the hem of her dusky blue dress down the pier until she finds the insignia from her contract. Her ship will be "The Dirty Oar," a small craft overflowing with nets and longlines. She stops at the bottom of the ladder, offering a haunting whistle to announce her arrival.

A loud crash comes from the deck, and she can't help herself from smiling. The men will know why she's here, some sooner than others.

"Speak!" booms Colrin, one of the fishermen aboard the Oar. A thick trunk of a man, he steps out from behind a stack of boxes, bearded and broad-shouldered.

"Permission to come aboard?" Gavi yells up at him.

Colrin pauses for a moment, "Ay, girl. Toss me your bag," he responds, holding out a muscled arm.

Gavi's canvas bag swings up through the air, thumping as Colrin makes the catch, and in a few bouncing steps, she pulls herself up the ladder, taking the outstretched hand at the top.

"Captain?" Gavi asks.

Colrin shakes his head, gesturing for her to follow him. He leads her to the room where the Captain is awaiting an all-clear to set sail. Gavi follows him along the deck, and passes closely by his chest as she walks through the doorway.

"Thank you, sailor," Gavi meets his eyes as she slips by him. "Your name?" she asked in a demure tone.

"Colrin, ma'am," he responds with the smallest hint of a coastal accent.

Something about the way Colrin's penetrating gaze falls on Gavi brings a sharp burn into her belly, the likes of which she hadn't felt in decades. His eyes dart away too quickly, and the naive part of her mind wonders if maybe he felt something for her too, but the rational part, jaded from a dozen years in this line of work, and countless number of clients, assumes he either feels embarrassment, or even disdain for her presence.

She continues past Colrin, planting her feet inside the wheelhouse where the Captain stands at the helm. He's a stereotype of a Sea Captain, burly and dense. A white beard bustles from his chin, and his slicker is pulled tight over heavy arms. Upon seeing Gavi enter, he spins graciously, grabbing each of her hands in his palms.

"Blessed seas!" exclaims the Captain. "If you ain't a vision."

Gavi offers a demure curtsey. "The pleasure is mine, Captain."

Brash laughter bellows from the big man. "Right, girlie. These lot have earned some extra... titillation," he grins, eyes falling shamelessly on Gavi's bosom. Captain's privilege was something Gavi had been made aware of, and now was a good a time as any. She knew it, and the Captain knew it.

She runs a hand along the crest of the Captain's shoulder, letting it fall down his torso. "Before I get settled, then," she sighs, pulling the corners of her mouth up in a devious smile.

"Gods strike me down before I refuse your touch," he stiffens, leaning against the ledge behind him and unbuckling his breeches.

Gavi brings her palm up to her lips, dripping a small bit of saliva onto it, preparing to pleasure the first cock of this new adventure.

After a few enjoyable minutes with the Captain, and just as she settles into her quarters, Gavi feels the wooden boat begin to wander from the dock. Hours will pass before they reach calm, squid-rich waters, and she will stay hidden until the noise from the galley quiets into the after-dinner lull.

As things settle, she chooses a blue silk nightgown, pulls open the door to her cabin, and flows into the common area, quieting every voice as the men take in her gossamer beauty. No doubt they've spent the last few hours discussing their salacious plans for her, but she had found that most of them were all talk.

Gavi walks straight to the table and uses the bench as a step, asserting herself above the rest. Her footsteps fall between soiled plates, and luscious brown legs tower over the staring crew. She stands as a dominating centerpiece, taking care to make eye contact with each man as she outlines the rules of engagement.

"Men, my name is Gavi. I'll be with you for the duration."

Two of the other men make choking, snickering sounds, stopped abruptly by a stern look from Colrin, the bearded man she met on deck.

"I will entertain you at my interest, and my interest alone. One of you will be invited to visit my quarters every morning or night, depending on your shift. You will come at my order, and leave at my order. Is this clear?" Muffled agreements surround her. This next part is easy. Gavi already has her choice for tonight's participant. Unable to ignore the flex in Colrin's shoulder as he snatched her bag from the air, she wanted to start off strong.

"Colrin, will you join me tonight?"

The men's eyes snap to their crewmate. "I decline," he answers Gavi in a dry tone, but smiles slide across a few of the other faces. Surprised, but not shaken, Gavi looks across the men, settling on the one who looks most terrified.

"You, then," she rotates to face him.

Wide eyes stare up at her, and her victim stands up too quickly, crashing into the tabletop. Laughter clangs, and one of the men likens the chosen man's sexual prowess to that of a stunted walrus in a pathetic attempt to win the girls favor.

The embarrassed sailor recovers, holding out a trembling hand to aid Gavi's descent. Hooting breaks out amongst the men, and Gavi's eyes linger on Colrin's disapproving stare before disappearing down the hallway. She hears a smacking sound following one man's request to "Give that sea slut more cock than she can handle!" The soft slide of her chamber door ends the performance for every man but one.

This happens again the following morning after breakfast. Gavi appears to the men, requests Colrin's presence in her chambers, receives her denial, and chooses another member of the crew.

This time, her guest makes the brash decision to halt their escape to the cabin, turning Gavi towards the men and pulling her dress open, buttons flying through the air. The entire crew erupts with cheers and laughter, except for Colrin. At the breaking of her garment, he's at his feet, Gavi's shocked face stirring something in him. She quickly diffuses things, dragging her companion off, tits swinging shamelessly down the hallway.

Even after such an exciting preview, and a desperate plead for his company, Gavi is rejected by Colrin again that night.

After they've prepared and eaten dinner, the men quiet their voices and await the slide of Gavi's chamber door. She barely makes it into the room before speaking. "Colrin, do you decline?"

He huffs, his lips flattened together.

"Very well. I'd like to invite both dayshifts into my chambers then," she says, eyeing her targets. The two men make intense eye contact for a moment, then get up from the table. One of them scoops Gavi up around her hips, carrying her off in a flurry of giggling and heavy footsteps.

The remaining men grumble and shake their heads, some in memory of their time with Gavi, some in teary disappointment.

It's not that Colrin didn't want to feel the soft warmth of Gavi's touch, or feel the relief of ecstasy brought by her, but he was deeply pained, and completely worn out. What could an old body like his offer such a force of pure beauty? His memories of softness and love had fallen into the sea long ago, strangled by the squid he hunted. He didn't need the girl's body to motivate him. This was a war, and he was here for one reason, and one reason alone. Money.

When Colrin walks past Gavi's cabin towards the deck, the noises are far too loud to be ignored. Colrin can hear the sweet moans he had been avoiding for days, fueled by the wet smacks of her guests as they begin stoking the flames of her passion. He walks quickly, almost bouncing up the stairs. As much as he tries to deny the ache, his ears strain to hear every squeaking pitch before the rush of the ocean overwhelms them.

Battling the frantic tentacles had been Colrin's job for the better part of two decades, but he had never been comfortable at sea. In fact, he feared it greatly. The power it had to consume all things all at once humbled him. He'd survived many who'd fallen into the depths, dragged down by the nets, the sheer power of the waves crashing over the deck, or murdered by one of these monstrous things.

Light rain begins to trickle down as he makes his way onto the deck. As the most senior member on the nightshift, he has no shortage of tasks. The deep-sea squid of the Bellsea Bay are a difficult species to catch. In the darkness, they are attracted to bright, colored light. Each longline carries a string of waterproof lanterns shining blue, pink, yellow, red, green, and purple. The variety and luminosity increasing their chances for a profitable haul. The lures leech light through the mist, a bittersweet comfort as only pitch black awaits them once the lines are released.

Colrin barks orders at the other men, keeping everything running smoothly. They set longlines and secure each bait ball onto a colored lure before releasing it into the sea. For hours, they battle the mist and the increasing cold, Colrin's voice aches from yelling over the whizzing of mechanisms, his hands ache from pulling up each triggered line, and his mind aches from spearing each meter-long squid before dropping the flailing ball of tentacles into the belly of the ship. He feels his mind beginning to slip, unable to stop picturing what the men below deck might be doing to Gavi. His heart is wracked with jealousy and longing. How could a woman so beautiful allow herself to be tossed around so carelessly. His instinct to protect her is unrelenting, but the grief of knowing that he could never give that protection to her is equally so.

As he is lost in thought, a rogue wave hits the boat broadside, and a sudden ripping noise cracks in the air.

"Colrin! Starboard net!" yells one of the men.

Boots crash across the deck, and a thick hand snags the loose net midair.

"Phillips, pull the guideline!" booms Colrin. A scrawny sailor pulls a rope thicker than his forearm around one of the nearby anchor points, forcing the contraption back over the deck. The swing hits the surging of a wave, and a tree-sized log crashes into Colrin, knocking him on his back and cutting a long gash in the muscle over his heart. Winded, his hands fly to the wound, finding warmth already seeping out of him.

"Curse you, Phillips, you salt-soaked rat!" he yells out in agony. "Get the gunpowder!"

The fisherman takes off across the ship, dodging ropes and crates to locate the cubby where they keep the black powder. His hands shake as he searches through a box of emergency supplies, but he finds the pouch, tearing back to Colrin.

Blood begins to pool around his side, but as soon as the footsteps return, Colrin lifts the fabric layers over his gash, groaning loudly with the effort. Woolen fibers stick to the wound, but they would soon be seared along with the rest of his exposed skin.

Phillip's covers the gash, blood mixing in with the gunpowder in a black mound on Colrin's chest. He strikes a flint, sparks sizzing against the rain. "Bloody hell!" yells Phillips, striking it over and over again until, at last, a spark lands.

The zip of the burning powder screams in Colrin's ear as the wound begins to cauterize. His flesh boils, but he doesn't make a sound, hardly even able to breathe as the fire rips across his chest. The two men watch him carefully as he writhes, tenses, and eventually begins to breathe again. Colrin finds himself at the edge of consciousness as the emergency bell is rung.

"All hands!" comes a scream from the deck.

Gavi, one man's cock down her throat, another man thrusting furiously between her legs, feels the panic from the crew immediately. Her mouth is released, a thick string of spit falling down her chin. The man between her thighs freezes in panic for a moment, then scrambles off the bed, pulling on his trousers as fast as possible, struggling to pin down his erection.

Both men charge out of Gavi's cabin and rush to the call. She grabs her silk robe and ties it tight around her waist, bounding into the doorway just in time to see Colrin's unconscious body being shuffled below deck, the four other men barely able to keep his arms and legs from dragging. With great difficulty, they pack him into the only bed available - Gavi's bunk. One of the men leaves to retrieve the Captain, one cracks a bottle of rum, offering a spluttering shot to Colrin, and another addresses Gavi.

"He should survive, but we're needed on deck. Please, if he gets worse, you must come find me. He's one of my oldest friends."

His eyes are wild, and Gavi only nods once before he disappears up the staircase to help salvage the rest of the haul.

She kneels on the wooden floorboards at Colrin's side. He's still awake, but barely. Mumbling, moaning, hissing with every small motion of the ship. She can only offer her touch, gathering a cloth from her supply and dabbing at his forehead and neck. "Oh, Colrin... what's happened to you," she sighs, noticing the inky carnage on the breast of his slicker. As her hand moves down his chest, she can feel the amount of blood in his clothing. She tries to pull away the filthy garments, but Colrin's hand covers hers, pushing her away.

"Don't fight me," she coos, softening the anguish on his face.

Colrin is in a state of delirium. His rattled brain obscures the past and the present, confusing sea with land. He thinks he's home again, with the girl he married young. He can even smell the flowers she used to grow. "Annora..." he whispers. The soft summer glow around her copper hair flickers across his vision. Sparks of joy and pain, love and loss, and an endless lifetime of struggle confuse him. It's too much. It's all too much.

Gavi can only console him, whispering sweet words while dressing his wound to the best of her limited ability. As she reaches the burned skin, a deep breath raises Colrin's chest, and Gavi sees his eyes open, looking right at her. "Shhh, sailor, it's me, Gavi, remember?" she tries to snap him out of it, but his eyes spell only pain.

"My love..." he chokes, tears welling in his eyes, "... you've survived. But, how?"

"I'm here, Colrin," Gavi complies, willing to play whatever part she needs to play to keep him awake. His glassy eyes look her over, a mixture of confusion and wanting. "You're hurt. Let me dress this wound," she gathers a clean strip of linen, folds it once, and lines it up over the cauterized gash.

"Big breath, sailor," she wait for Colrin's chest to rise, pressing the cloth over his tender skin and tucking it underneath his torn sweater. His chest locks for a moment as pain grips him. She won't be able to properly wrap his chest until he's more lucid, but this should at least keep it clean.

Colrin's chest begins to oscillate with short, sharp breaths turning into deep gasps. Beads of sweat form on his brow. Gavi's fingertips press into his body, a panic stirring in her.

"The pain is too much, my love..." Colrin sighs. He puts his hand over Gavi's and pulls it down his torso. "Just a moment of your touch, please..." he whimpers.

Gavi stiffens her hand in alarm. This man was much unlike her regular guests. He was vulnerable, injured, and hallucinating. He was also, as she scanned his body, getting hard. Gavi swallows the guilt in her chest. She's no Annora, and she's no nurse, but she could take away his pain.

She unties the rope belt around his waist and loosens the fabric enough to slide her hand down over his rising cock. His body is warm, and fully aroused. A groan escapes his chest as she wraps her fingers around his shaft. She can feel his heartbeat thudding into her palm as she strokes him gently. The skin slides easily over his erection, and whether it was the memory of his love, or the adrenaline from his injury, his cock stood up within a few seconds of Gavi's touch.

She leans over him, craning her neck enough to dribble some saliva onto the head of his dick, using long fingers to spread it around the skin as she settles back on her knees. She massages his tip, rolling over the ridges with her fingers and cupping it in her palm. Colrin is breathing deeply, his head falling from one side to the next as endorphins flood his system.

Gavi can see the veins discerning themselves under his skin, and his balls are held tight as her stroking intensifies. She speaks softly, encouraging him deeper into his own mind. "That's it, my love, breathe. You need to breathe..." Colrin's chest rises, his cock twitching with lust. Gavi continues. "You are safe here with me, just let it go, let the pain go." She pumps her hand like she would if she were shaking dice, bringing him swiftly over the edge.

Colrin sighs the name of his love, and with a choking breath, he begins to cum. White semen floods out of him, thick, viscous and desperate. Gavi already has a handkerchief within reach, and she holds his cock with care, soaking up the puddles as they overflow. She watches his face as it relaxes back into unconsciousness.

Gavi pulls his pants loosely back over his cock, cleanses her hands and goes back to his brow with the cool cloth. He needs rest.

Through the rest of the day, Colrin sleeps. Interrupted only by jolts of panic that rip him up into a sitting position in the bed. He flails frantically, in a state of disorientation, until Gavi soothes him, pressing his shoulders into the mattress and offering ladles of water and shots of rum. The men take turns checking on him, chased off by Gavi when they tried to lure her out of her cabin. She'd done her contracted duty, and there was only one man who needed her attention now.

By the sunset on their final night at sea, Colrin's fever has broken, and he's staying asleep for longer. Once lucid, his boots find the floor, and the old sea dog find his legs, stumbling up the stairs to catch some fresh air and greet the men who'd come to his aid.

Gavi takes the opportunity to collect the filthy sheets, piling them in the corner with the other linens. She can hear the uproar of cheers as Colrin appears to the other men. Not every injury is fatal on these seas, but it happens far too often for any of them to take their lives for granted.

Not long passes before Colrin makes his way from the relieved fishermen back to Gavi. Heavy boots bring him into the threshold of her door as she begins collecting her things. He grumbles a bit before speaking.

"I feel that I may have done something... while I was fevered," Colrin brings a palm to his forehead. "I have... memories..."

Gavi meets his eyes. "You did nothing wrong, sailor. I was hired by your captain to care for the entire crew," she responds, slowly turning away from her packing.

"So, my mind doesn't lie," his voice shakes.

"Yes it was me at your side, Colrin, but you only spoke of your wife. I was there for you as I know she would have been." Gavi knew nothing of Colrin's lost love, but she could see that he was distressed, and she hoped her words would offer assurances.