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“Get below! Now!” the captain bellowed. His shouted orders were barely heard in the tumultuous gale.

Besides, I knew every pair of hands was needed on deck, even a woman’s.

In defiance of his orders, I remained on deck, even as his furious glare, the color of the deepest blue ocean, locked with mine. If we lived through this, the surly Captain Ford Sanders would remind me yet again that a woman on a ship was bad luck.

My long hair whipped by relentless winds, eyes stinging from the onslaught of salt spray, I clung to the rail and watched helplessly when the first mate split his skull on a cleat. I crawled across the deck to him and wrapped my scarf around his gushing wound.

Then the ship jolted violently, sending me hydroplaning across the slimy surface and into the arms of the glowering captain. The last thing I remember was the bitter salt water that filled my lungs as we plunged into the unforgiving sea, Ford’s arms tight around me as if he would never let go.

I awoke to the pungent aroma of herbs smoldering over a banked fire. Voices from unseen faces rang like soft bells, but I understood not a word.

Then Ford roared, “Let me loose, damn you! She’s not what you think she is, you savages. She’s just a woman, for God’s sake!”

What the hell was he blathering about? I sat up and regretted it instantly when the pain shot up through my neck as if it would blow the top of my head clean off.

“You live,” said a soft voice from a friendly coffee-colored face that appeared suddenly before me. Strong hands eased me back down to a rough palette, but not before I caught a glimpse of the captain, stripped naked, and lashed to a heavy upright timber in the center of the room.

Even after I closed my eyes, I still saw his taut body, sinuous and hard, leathery, as tanned as the little native woman who now forced me to drink a bitter brew from a crude wooden bowl.

“Why is the captain tied up?” I asked, my aching head rebelling against every sound I uttered.

“Bad man. Try to drown Malina. He being punished.”

“Who’s Malina?”

The old native woman’s laughter was an abrasive hiss through toothless gums.

“You Malina. You come back to us.”

I drifted off again, wondering if being Malina was a good thing.

I awoke again to Captain Sanders’ incessant roaring. This time I sat up gingerly, and the pain in my head was tolerable.

The Captain was in much the same state as before, only now his body shone with sweat, his face contorted with rage, and his erection rose with passion.

“For the love of God, Katie, tell these ignorant bastards to give me some water!”

“Why do I have to tell them? You tell them!”

“Just do it, or I’ll die from dehydration.”

“Would that be so awful?” I guess my head was feeling better, for I was ready to exchange insults again with the man who had made two months at sea a miserable hell for me. “Oh, all right, don’t get your panties in a wad. Oops, I just noticed you’re not wearing any panties.”

He glared at me, the rage in his eyes matching that of his hard-on.

The toothless old woman was by my side again, and I told her, “Give the poor man some water, if you please.”

“Yes, Malina, as you command.” She gave a little bow of her head and held the bowl while the Captain slurped greedily.

“You may as well give him something to eat while you’re at it.”

The old woman clapped her hands and two giggly maidens came into the room, staring wide-eyed and smiling broadly at Ford’s stiff penis.

One girl fed him some sort of rice mixture using her fingers as a spoon, and he ate ravenously.

The old nursemaid offered me a bowl of rich broth and a crust of flat bread, and then all three women left the room.

“Where are we and what’s going on? And who is Malina?” I asked.

Ford leaned his head back against the rough wood where his hands were tied behind ankara eryaman escortlar him, his eyes closed. “Some God-forsaken island,” he said. “They think you’re Malina, come back to save them. She left some 1500 years ago, according to the legends; said she’d be back with rain and fire and crops and fish.”

“How could she come back after 1500 years?”

He opened his eyes and gave me a look full of malice. “Because she’s a Goddess.”

My loud guffaw was so startled and harsh, it brought the old witch-woman back to check on me.

“Why would they think I’m a goddess?” I asked him.

“Probably your flaming hair and green eyes. The fact that you’re quite a bit taller than they are might have something to do with it. And her name’s Nema,” he said, inclining his head toward the old woman who stood protectively beside me.

“I’m fine, Nema,” I reassured her. “It’s just that I find the, er, prisoner very amusing.”

“Yes, he funny,” she agreed, eyeing his wilting cock. She frowned and clapped her hands again for the maidens, who entered and went to work over Ford’s expiring penis.

Ford groaned while one maiden stroked his cock back to hardness. The other maiden pinched his nipples with a rhythm that matched her sister’s stroking of his growing organ. As he closed his eyes and his groans became more primitive, the girl’s skilled hand squeezed the head of his penis, cutting off his ejaculation, and he moaned in grievous frustration.

“Oh, God, no, no more.”

“Nema, why are they doing this to the Captain?” I asked, forgetting the antagonism that existed between Ford and myself, and feeling a little sorry for his condition of unsatisfied excitement.

“Make him ready for you, Malina.”

“For me?” I didn’t know whether to feel flattered or insulted, but I was definitely aroused.

She nodded, pleased with herself, and backed out of the tent, signaling the two girls to go with her.

Ford banged the back of his head against the solid timber a couple of times, growling through clenched teeth.

“Well, you certainly LOOK ready,” I said, smiling.

“I’m glad you think it’s funny. While you’ve been lying over there dozing like some goddamn princess, this is the kind of torture I’ve been enduring.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, another burst of a giggle escaping my lips. “It’s all too funny. I’m a goddess, and what are you supposed to be? My sexual sacrifice?”

His brow lowered and his eyes narrowed. Apparently I had hit the nail right on the head.

“And what is it that is supposed to become of that enormous hard shaft of yours?” I quizzed.

“Whatever your heart desires, O Great Goddess,” he snarled, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Watch your tone,” I said, getting into my role, “or this present torture will seem like a picnic compared to what I can dream up.”

“Fuck you, Katie.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I had in mind, Ford.” I stared at his twitching cock through lowered lashes, my pussy moistening with anticipation of its hardness filling me.

“I bet. I know you haven’t been laid since you came on board my ship two months ago and cursed it to the bottom of the sea.”

What stung about that comment was that it was true—well, not the part about cursing the ship. I had boarded his ship for cheap, swift passage to South America to assist my fiancée in a botanical study. But after a month and a half of celibacy, the first mate, Geoff, was beginning to look good, and he was so kind, offering to bring my meals to me below decks, so that I might avoid the captain’s scornful eye at the dinner table. I’m sure Geoff wanted to give me much more than a tray of hot food, but I declined his generosity, preferring to endure Ford’s tight-lipped grimace when I appeared at the table wearing a gauzy white cotton blouse (with nothing under it) and men’s khaki trousers that fit me like a second skin.

Now I was escort etimesgut completely naked beneath a thin sheet, and Ford was staring in the general direction of my breasts as if he would try to see through the fabric.

I adjusted the sheet demurely, watching his eyes, and laughed when he jerked his gaze away.

“I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last woman on earth.”

“But if I were a goddess…?”

He stared stubbornly at the wall.

I clapped my hands together twice sharply, letting the sheet fall around my waist. To my satisfaction, Ford turned his smoldering gaze to feast on my breasts.

“Jesus,” he whispered hoarsely.

“No,” I corrected him, “Malina. It seems I’m the deity on this island.”

Nema entered, smiling. “You ready for him now, Malina?”

“Yes. Tell the girls to bathe him first. I can smell him from all the way over here.”

While they laved him with soapy sponges, occasionally stroking his near-bursting cock to keep it hard, Nema combed and braided my hair. I sat cross-legged on the palette and enjoyed Ford’s efforts to crane his neck so that he could see my moist pink sex.

“That’s good, Nema. You may go now.”

“Go?” She looked at me as if I had told her she could cut off her own right hand.

“Yes, Nema,” I said gently. “You and the maidens can stay and watch next time.”

Bowing their heads—in reverence or dejection, I don’t know which—they left.

Ford sat on the floor with his legs extended straight out in front of him, hands still lashed behind his back, and I stood over him, my feet straddling his thighs like Colossus straddling the Tiber River.

He looked up longingly at my sweet wet cunt, licked his lips. “You’re not a fucking goddess, you know.” His voice was hoarse with desire.

“Methinks the gentleman doth protest too much.”

“Shut up, Malina. I mean–Katie.”

“That’s no way to talk to the woman who’s going to give you relief from your present state of agony.” He never took his eyes from the prize as I crouched, lowering my pussy to within an inch of his face, letting him scent the tartness and feel its heat.

“Goddamn you, Katie,” he murmured, then demanded, “when?”

Then I let him taste me, let his mouth sup hungrily at the moist folds, let his tongue lick my hardening clit like a greedy child licks an ice cream cone. When my clit began to throb, he closed his lips over it, sucked until it began to flex rhythmically. I clutched the pole for support, my legs weakening. He was even more lost in lust than I was, and I wondered if he might come spontaneously.

“You better not come until you’re inside me, Ford. I’ll be very displeased.”

He groaned like a savage, wounded lion.

“Then you better get on, because I’m about to burst,” he growled.

“Is that any way to talk to your goddess?” I asked, lowering myself to sit straddling his thighs, my breasts at his eye level, his hard shaft and tender balls barely brushing my belly and the coarse wet curls of my mound, as I moved over him.

His only answer was a tortured sound from the back of his throat.

“Hmmm?” I asked again, ducking my head to capture one of his hard flat nipples between my teeth.

“Please . . . ” he mumbled.

Thrilled by his subservience, I shifted my mouth to the other side of his chest, raking the damp, just-sucked and hardened nipple with my fingernail.

“Please what, Ford?” I demanded, my mouth around the flat brown bud.

“Please let me fuck you, Katie.”

“Katie?” I sat back and frowned at him in mock displeasure.

He pressed his hard lips together. God, he was stubborn.

Still straddling his legs, I ground my swollen cunt along the length of his cock, smearing the trickling moisture over his taut sensitive flesh. He tried to twist his pelvis so that the swollen head of his shaft could find entrance batıkent escort into my warm pussy, but I maneuvered away, leaving him more desperate and groaning. Then I let my hands graze his cock briefly just before I grasped both my full breasts, lifting and circling them in a rough massage, pinching my own nipples until they stood out between my thumb and finger. Ford’s mouth opened in an instinctive response.

I leaned toward him; his neck strained wildly in an effort to seize my tits in his mouth.

“You want to suck, baby?”

“Yes, God, yes!” he croaked.

“Yes what?”

“Please, yes please.” He strained against the leather straps at his wrist so hard, I was afraid he would pull his shoulders from their sockets.

I let his pleas hang in the air between us for several seconds, while I clutched my breasts in both hands, twisting my torso, so that the nipples barely brushed across his questing lips. Just say the word, you stubborn man, I thought. I want this as much as you do.

“Please . . .?” I prompted, easing my hot sex over the tip of his convulsing cock.

That seemed to be the impetus he needed, and he cried out, “Please, Malina!” Once he broke that barrier, he had nothing to lose—and everything to gain—for he began then to lavish me with the praise that I had not even known that I craved.

“I beg you, Malina. You are a goddess, and I need your beautiful cunt. Please let me have it.”

With that, I raised my hips and lowered them again, sheathing his shaft within my slippery walls. At the same time I raked my hands roughly through his long hair, grasping a handful of it, forcing his eyes to meet mine.

“You don’t come until I tell you to.”

“No, no, of course not,” he agreed, but then in the next raucous breath, “Please let me come, Malina. I need to come.”

“I know you do, baby,” I assured him with exaggerated tenderness. “But you must let Malina come first. Or she will be very unhappy.” As we spoke, I rotated my hips over his cock, feeling the tip of his shaft deep within me, so deep I almost imagined that I could taste his cock, feel it in my belly, my chest, my throat.

I rode him like a stallion, my distended clit raking over the coarse hair above his shaft, the friction of his hard organ against the tender walls of my pussy building so that it seemed we would create sparks and catch fire. And all the while he begged, worshipped, and—yes—prayed to the goddess.

My joy was tripled. My beautiful cunt was at last filled with a swelling, throbbing, most-satisfying hard cock. My soul soared on the wings of a goddess. And my revenge on the arrogant Captain Ford Sanders was complete. He was mine, and that made my orgasm that much sweeter, sent my soul flying that much higher.

He lifted his hips in answer each time I plunged and bounced over his lap, our rhythm increasing. When the strokes of his cock in my velvet passage brought me to the brink and I could feel the familiar signs of swelling within the treasured enclave of my sex, I allowed his deliverance.

“Now, love,” I said, almost lovingly, “now you may come.”

His cry of release was frightening in its savagery, and with one last thrust of his strong hips, he jammed his cock to the deepest point within me, and I, thinking I had reached the peak of my bliss, reached one step higher.

With the surprising shock of that last spearing jolt, I arched my back, leaned my hands behind me to grasp the hard muscles of his thighs, and both our bodies tensed to the breaking point and held there in a kind of taut suspension for what seemed like several minutes. When our muscles could wind up no tighter, we began to relax, and I leaned in again to let him suck at my breast. Languidly, leisurely he sucked the now softened nipple, our bodies calming except for the occasional brief reverberation, echoes of that blissful surrender.

“Please untie my hands,” he begged, tearing his mouth from my breast. “I need to hold you. Wanted to hold you since the first time I laid eyes on you.”

I smoothed his hair with my long fingers.

“Please . . .?” I prompted.

“Please, Malina.”

Readers: Please vote if you liked this story! Thanks–Sabrina

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