Chapter 6
by 
afcwenterburn
What's next?
Lunchtime Leisure and Lechery
"Come, Master. Enough of this!" Gord clapped a meaty hand on Luke's shoulder. "We have prepared a feast suitable for a Captain! You will dine with us. We have some of that spiced grog that your people enjoy..."
A raucous cheer came from the sailors, half of who returned to their posts, the other half who followed Gord belowdecks for the meal. Luke threw one last gaze at his shoulder at Rene before disappearing belowdecks.
Bound helpless at the **** post, Rene was cold. The invigorating sea breeze coupled with the occasional spray of an errant wave scattered saltwater on her bare, naked skin. The sun was just a faint suggestion of warmth and light. The flower basket seemed to cup and press between her legs, chilling her petals, teasing her with the dream of warmth.
Kyra reappeared, draped only in a floral scarf, artfully wrapped around her neck, covering her nipples, barely reaching her crotch. The sailors whistled but knew better than to **** her. She wiggled for their enjoyment and marched up to Rene, her lips pursed, her cheeks full of something. Once again, the saucy minx pressed her lips against Rene's and thrust her tongue in, but this time, some sweet, bitter honey-like substance flowed from Kyra's lips to hers. It was faintly spiced, and felt warm, and Rene found herself swallowing most of it.
A flicker, a spark, a gentle ember kindled at the tips of Rene's nipples, smeared around the puffiness of her lips, tingled in her toes and fingers, and stoked in her belly until it seemed to warm the flower basket itself. Kyra smirked, satisfied as she continued to ply the bound **** with kisses all over her body. "I heard you hadn't tried the **** **** yet...but you should. It'll make the trip so much more interesting..."
She paused only to give each of Rene's nipples a lingering suckle, before bounding off belowdecks to join them for lunch. The faint, damp spots where she left her kisses began to burn from the outside her skin and within. Almost as if her nipples were growing, begging to be touched.
Gord reappeared briefly, a plate of meat for the lads, and a pitcher of cold ale. He set them on a barrel for the deck crew to help themselves, while stepping forward and uncorking a filter. Easily, he lifted Rene's jaw and **** down the dosage of the now familiar, bitter-sweet-spiced nectar.
"I'd sooner have you pawing at yourself, **** for my Lord, than cold and frigid like a city maiden," muttered Gord. Raising his voice, he declared: "No man is to touch her, understand? Unless they wish to become a one-eyed eunuch to serve in our Lord's hareem. Feast on meat and grog instead!"
And with that, he went back belowdecks to drink with Luke, leaving Rene to face a double dose of **** bane...