The Swashbuckling Yarn of Milady Vixen by Christopher Newman

awakened!”
    “Aye, but yon orgasm has robbed me of any energy. Stretch out your hand; I would slumber at least holding it, if I cannot lie against ye.”
    “Slumber if you will; I will indeed and willingly grip ye.”
    Sliding across the straw, she took a grip on the offered palm and sank against the bars. Dreamless sleep easily overtook her and eventually him.
    Shocked, are you? Tell me truthfully you have never indulged yourself in your partner’s self-pleasuring? My, but you have miles to travel in life. Try it sometime and you will be amazed at just the vision of your lover touching, caressing and enjoying him—or her—self. The frustration and excitement is quite stimulating. A man or woman unwilling to please himself cannot hope to drive another to ecstasy, don’t you think? One must be able to do so in order to become the best lover he can.
    Why do you stare so? Heavens, you can’t be serious? Now don’t give me that look—I’m an old man! Your unspoken query makes even this elderly storyteller blush! Dear me, I pray you contain your naughty thoughts, or I will be forced to bring this yarn to an abrupt halt. How inappropriate—and yet interesting.

A Captain’s Fancy for

a Privateer’s Private Life
    The door swung open with a resounding bang, awakening both pirates with a sudden start. Into the brig walked fourteen armed Marines, their weapons held at the ready.
    “Get up you, scurvy harlot!” one of them snarled. “The cap’n wishes you to dine with him. Try no funny business, or I’ll personally see to it you’re tied to the main mast to be flogged.”
    “Brave words from a man surrounded by his fellows,” she said with a yawn. “Give me a blade and room to dance, and I’d spill your guts onto the deck.”
    One member of his company rushed forward and unlocked her cage; three more strode into it and began dragging her out by the length of chain dangling between her cuffs.
    “Follow us,” the officer commanded.
    Surrounded by armed Marines, Vixen did what they asked, since she knew there was no hope of bringing them all down to free both her and Tom. A scheme rapidly formed in her mind, however, and she fought not to allow herself a gloating smile.
    I’m sure I know why this peacock wants me for dinner, but his advances will be thwarted. I will take him hostage and perhaps I can parlay his life for mine, Tom’s and a small skiff, she plotted to herself.
    They made it out onto the deck. Sunshine cut into her eyes, and she was forced to raise her hands to shield them. Instead of marching her from the bow to the poop deck, the soldiers brought her to an impromptu halt at the waist. Her escort formed a ring around, their bayoneted muskets pointed at her. A red-striped-shirted sailor appeared carrying a rope, and the officer nodded in his direction.
    “Captain told me to make sure you were made presentable,” the lieutenant sneered, “but he forgot to give me the details. So if you don’t mind, I think a bath is in order. I wouldn’t want my commanding officer to have his senses befouled by a filthy pirate; not that a clean pirate is any better. I am not at liberty to wonder why Captain Cockrum fancies a chat with you. Mister Leeway, tie off this sack of garbage, will you? Mind you don’t make any sudden moves, since my men would adore any excuse to revenge their fallen comrades by shooting you dead where you stand. Do we have an understanding?”
    “Aye, you pettiest of officers,” she insulted him.
    The barefooted seaman tied the length of hemp around her middle and knotted it tight. Stepping back, he grinned at his handiwork. Another sailor undid the bindings on her ankles and stepped away quickly out of fearful respect.
    “Take off your boots,” the Marine ordered.
    She sat upon the boards and did so despite the hindrance of her manacles. Their intentions were too clear to her, and Vixen knew she’d just have to play along until it was time to wreak bloody havoc on them for this