Give her what she needs

Alison stares at me with her big dark eyes and tugs nervously at the short hem of the nightgown, this has the (perhaps unintentional) effect of pulling the bodice down a fraction of an inch exposing a little more of her luscious bosom.

“I love that scene early in the book where the loveliest passengers of the starliner are first assembled in the First-Class dining hall.” Alison nods in understanding and I wonder if she, like me, is picturing the line of thirty or so barely dressed captives or the crowd of celebrating pirates who have just pulled off the score of a lifetime.

“Why did you bring me here?” Alison is able to convey the fear and confusion of the first-class passenger perfectly.

“Bossman says we each get a filly to chain to our berths,” I point to the other side of the room, “I want to make sure these horny bastards all know you belong to me.” The soft shudder that rocks her body can't possibly be just acting. Being displayed like this in front of a pack of lustful men is clearly something she's thought about even before I loaned her the slavegirl books. “Besides, I thought you'd want to see your friends. Is your pretty little sister here?” I've seen pictures of Alison's real-life sister back in Tennessee, a slightly younger and taller version of the original, and I'm sure that if that if this pair had been on the Eveningstar when it was overrun that she'd be one of the prizes pulled aside as well. Alison's eyes widen and her breathing deepens but she points to a different imaginary spot.

“She's there by the champaign fountain. On heavens, what are you going to do to us?”

“You are going to serve me with your pretty little body.” I whisper softly, “unless you think I should take your lovely sister instead?” I am ready for the half-hearted attempt that Alison does to try to twist away; my grip on her upper arm is more than enough to keep her under control. When her first attempt doesn't yield results, she tries an even more futile approach.

“No! You can't ... I'm a virgin, we both are!” I wonder, not for the first time, why young women thought that announcing their chaste condition would be any deterrence to the rough men intent on plundering their tight young bodies. If anything, I imagine it only makes them more attractive in the eyes of their brutal captors.

“Of course you are, my dear.” I chuckle as cruelly as I can, “and thank you for saving yourself for me.” With her brief struggle over, I position myself behind the sexy coed and run my hands up over her belly and cup her breasts through the sheer blue silk. “So. am I the first man to fondle these titties, or did you let your boyfriends cop a feel now and then as a reward for being good boys?”

“Please don't do this ... not here ... not while they're all watching.” Alison's gaze flickers around the room first to the spot where I pretended my fellow pirates were cheering me on and then towards where she indicated when she pointed out her sister. “But watching's part of the fun.” I breath softly into her fine blonde hair just behind her ear, “Look at Bull over there with that long-legged redhead. Doesn't look like he even bothered to warm her up before he skewered her like a rotisserie chicken.” I don't know if it is the way my fingers are pinching her nipples, the description of some other young woman's violation or the fact that so many are watching, but the moan that escapes Alison's lips is loud and needy.

“Don't worry, Miss Kirkendahmer.” I reassure my trembling prize, “I prefer my bitches good and juicy, especially if their pussies are tightly sealed like yours.” Only when my hand slides downward pressing the silk of her nightgown firmly against her belly does Alison realize what I have in mind.

“Oh, Dear Lord! You're going to make her climax.” Her hand covers mine as it glides, but she makes no attempt to stop me until my fingers are under the short hem of her nightgown and pressed against her already dripping petals. “You're going to make that proud Imperial maiden cum in front of those men ... her friends ... oh God, even her little sister.”

It's almost too easy. Afterall, Alison had been on the brink of an orgasm when I first discovered her in her room thirty minutes ago, and this is the very fantasy that had her so worked up. All I did is add a few details and provide a masculine presence that somehow makes her surrender acceptable. Her fingers press mine even harder against her sex as she rocks her hips trying to find just the right place.

“She's watching you,” I don't even have to say who's watching, “She can't believe that her own refined older sister is going to cum like a common whore; it's almost like you want to be fucked a nasty old pirate like me!” This last little prompt pushes Alison over the edge and with one hand clenched hard against my fingers and her other twisting her firm tit, she opens her mouth and lets out a strangled scream even as juices flood over my hand.

In the book, poor Kaylee-Ann is promptly spread out on the dining hall table where her captor gave her a 'jolly good ruttocking.'