...tell her the truth.

"I..." You sigh before continuing. "I'm an agent of the principalities." You decline to add ‘right honourable’ before principalities; no sense goading her.

She leans in close, eyes narrowed in suspicion, looking at you for a long time. Eventually, you see her head start to slowly nod, satisfied with whatever it is she sees. “Ok.” She stands up straight, leaning back to look at you. “Ok. Any others on the island?”

You answer honestly again. “No.” The piercing blue gaze doesn’t last as long this time; the veiled acceptance coming more readily.

“And just how did you get here?”

That answer is more complicated, but you give it without resistance. You explain, starting with the merchants and leads that lead you to this island, leaving out the names of people who could get hurt by your folly. You can’t leave out your purpose for coming here and tracking her down, but you do manage to skim over it somewhat. She seems unfazed by your confession, your purpose here clear from the start. You explain your progress getting to and across the island and into the mansion at its heart. Here, she asks more questions, focusing on your journey past her outer defences and gaining access to the mansion, and you answer them all with ease, even elaborating on things she doesn’t ask about to stave off the end of your story and whatever she decides will follow. She watches you throughout, stare boring into your eyes like rays of burning sunlight; seeing all.

By the end, when your explanation is almost caught up with the present and you feel wrung out of all you have to offer, you notice that her gaze had subtly shifted at some point. She no longer watches your eyes, instead looking over your form pinned between the two men like the catch of the day. It’s the look you dreaded throughout your story; one shifted from what she can learn from you into consideration of what to do with you.

“...and they put me in the cell and I guess the rest you know.” You finish lamely.

She’s smiling. It’s not a good smile.

“I don’t suppose you forgot to mention Sam in all that?” She sees the look of confusion on your face. “The man thrown in the cells earlier?” Oh. You shake your head. “I see... Well, I suppose that leaves me with a couple of options then.”

Definitely not a good smile. She idly taps her cheek with her finger, looking you up and down. Deciding your fate.

“You can join my crew.” That’s not what you were expecting and it must clearly show on your face. “Why not? You managed to make it onto this island, passed all my guards, and into this very building. From the sound of it, it was only bad luck that saw you caught.”

You look around, suddenly unsure that reality is behaving itself. You don’t know what to say. ‘No’ definitely doesn’t seem like the right answer.

“Of course...” Your head snaps back to her at her words. “...you would have to prove your loyalty to me.” She pulls the light silk cord around her gown, loosening it and letting it fall open. All three of you stare. The silk gown hangs on her breasts, showing a line of skin as wide as your palm that extends from her neck, past her navel and down to her strangely hairless...

You look away, red-faced at her indecency. It’s not like you’ve never seen another women naked, but to stand so brazenly before the two men at your side...

“If you get down on your knees and lick my pussy until I cum then I’ll let you join my crew.”

The world freezes. What? She- Wha- Her- What!? You look at her, locking eyes with the madwoman. She can’t be-

“What!?”

She smiles, explaining in slow and simple words. “If you lick my cunt, you join my crew.” She even point at it for emphasis.

“You can’t be serious!”

Her smile widens, revelling in your confusion and dawning comprehension. “Oh but I am little Agent. You see, you’ve caught me at a weak moment; I’ve recently had a meeting with Captain Roland and, let’s just say, he’s got the size to get a girl going, but lacks the stamina to finish the job.” You look down involuntarily, only now seeing the wetness on her inner thigh, the white stain of seed. “I hate being left halfway there by a man and I make bad decisions when I’m horny, so now’s your chance; finish me off and you can join my crew.”

You look about the room again. You can’t help it. Is this a joke? If it is then it’s in very poor taste. You wince at the choice of words, even in your own head.

“I- don’t-“ You breath and close your eyes, trying to find some measure of sanity in the situation. “And what if I refuse?”

Captain Wendy ‘Go’ Washkin, terror of the archipelago, pouts like a child, mocking you. She thinks for a moment. “Well, I’d have to finish the job myself. As for you... can’t have you coming back to darken my door again. Hmmm. I suppose I’d have to have these two break both your hands with those fire pokers there, and then send you on your way...”

You can’t help but follow her pointing finger, around the well-built chest of the man beside you, to the ornate heavy metal bars resting against the nearby fireplace. Your gulp is audible to all.

She’s still smiling, suddenly business-like. “So, what’s it going to be? Join my crew...” She widens her stance, displaying her glistening self more prominently. “... or don’t.” She makes it sound like there’s a choice.

You think for a moment. There’s always a choice. The prospect of your tongue going anywhere near her well used, seeded self makes you nauseous. But with your hands tied, it really is that or early retirement through broken bones. It takes a skilled healer to fix hands, and even so they are never quite the same. If you did...do it, maybe you could get the upper hand somehow? It’s doubtful, with your arms still tied behind your back; biting would be nothing more than an annoyance, albeit an excruciating one, and running for the nearby open window, with no arms to break your fall, or swim away for that matter, is not really an option either.

Joining her crew sounds bad. Not just the entrance fee, but what use her and her crew could find for you after. Broken hands would be more painful in the short term, but the long? That’s assuming she just lets you go after. Bad choices, bad choices. Maybe if you focus on freedom that would help. If you got your arms free somehow then you would still need a weapon. You give the floor a quick scan. Nothing except a few piles of old clothes and- wait…

Something shines in one of the distant piles, near a door to your left. It looks like the edge of a familiar thin stiletto blade, darkened with paint to avoid reflecting too much light. A discarded stiletto, brought for inspection before being cast aside and forgotten about by the ‘horny’ captain. You look away before they notice. You could... but there are still two guards to consider. With that in mind, choosing broken hands would mean being untied, but facing terrible odds, while choosing...her, would mean your hands probably stay bound, but perhaps more time and opportunity for that to change?

It’s risky. The whole prospect is risky, and both options are frankly terrible. Risk your hands or play the whore.