The voyage home

The tropical sun warms your skin as you recline on the deck of the merchantman, taking your ease, sipping a tall rum cocktail as you watch the ship glide past a succession of beautiful coral atolls. The two blonde noblewomen lie in the hammocks on either side of you, wearing bikinis and giggling to each other as they talk about how handsome and brave you are for rescuing them from those filthy pirates.

The crew is taking its ease, as well, chatting, dancing hornpipes and catching up on their reading. There's not much for them to do. The Tempest had a crew of about thirty or forty hot female pirates, more than enough to handle all the work aboard the little merchantman. Without their weapons, they're too scared to revolt.

You smile as you watch Black Anna work. Her heavy breasts sway as she swabs the deck, on hands and knees, muscles flexing as she scrubs the pine boards until they're sparkling clean. You catch her eye and wink. She shoots you a murderous glare before catching herself and fixing her gaze on her work, not wanting to attract your attention any further. She knows perfectly well that if she misses even the tiniest spot, you'll make her clean it with her tongue.

She wears nothing but her captain hat and boots, and her bottom still blazes a dull red, evidence of her most recent punishment at your hands. Wooden pegs are clamped to her wide brown nipples, the small lead weights attached to them swinging about an inch above the floor. The noblewomen took their time this morning scribbling demeaning insults all over her body, things like LOSER and COWARD and PRETTY PIRATE PUSSY, before balling up their sweaty panties from the day before and shoving both pairs into her mouth, where they remain. Eyes follow her everywhere she goes.

Some of the naked pirate women are working in the rigging, swinging from rope to rope with the agility of monkeys while the cabin boy watches and shouts advice from below. Others are doing the ship's laundry, fixing the damage their cannons caused or bent over the impromptu spanking barrel set up on the main deck, waiting their turn. It's your decree that at least one pirate wench be getting spanked at all times, so that everywhere you look your eyes come to rest on a beautiful red female bottom or an equally pretty blushing face.

The tomboy and the dusky woman are wrestling in a tub of molasses, surrounded by cheering crew as money changes hands. The Oriental maiden is learning how to dance a hornpipe.

You smile as the two noblewoman spontaneously lean over to kiss you, one on each side of your face, as you watch a furious and very naked Black Anna continue to scrub away. All is right with the world. And it's still at least another week to port.