Tales of the Rope

Chapter 3: A Sandy Wench

Chapter 3: A Sandy Wench

Captain Blood didn’t like me from the first moment he saw me standing there on the quarterdeck, my head held high. He couldn’t see my trembling hands for they were tightly bound behind my back, but I doubt it would have made any difference. My fate was sealed the moment that bloody great black painted ship of his cut across our bow.

The fight was short and quick as the pirates swarmed over our decks, hacking and slaying with abandon. When it was finished, those worn wooden decks were awash in blood and the last survivors of our doomed ship stood before the terror of the seas. The pirates had found the other two girls hiding below and dragged them screaming and crying to stand trembling before the notorious Captain Blood himself. He had another name, I don’t remember it, but his cruelty and total disregard for human life had bestowed upon him the title of Captain Blood. From what I heard, he seemed to like it and tried to live up to it at every opportunity.

He was a bear of a man, tall and dressed in a mishmash of worn clothing. His beard was shaggy and black, as was his long hair. I remember a tiny cut on his cheek and wondered as I stood amid the smoke and cries of the dying who had delivered that tiny nick. Whoever it was, it had probably cost him his life.

Bodies were thrown overboard and our luckless ship looted to the keel while the other two girls and I stood awaiting our fate. When all else was finished, the pirates made a half circle around us, their faces eager with anticipation. But they held back while Captain Blood made an inspection of each of us. The first girl pleaded and dropped to her knees before him.

The second girl smiled and said how good she was and how she would make a good woman for a captain.

I spat in his face.

The first girl was thrown to the crew who savagely tore her clothing apart and tossed her onto the dark- stained wooden deck. They began taking turns satisfying their lust with her.

The second girl had the front of her dress ripped asunder by a rough hand, revealing rather large breasts. The captain seemed pleased, and ordered her hauled off to his cabin and lashed to the bed, there to await his pleasure.

Some of the crew, seeing the second girl suddenly made forbidden fruit and unable to get at the first through the press of their crewmates, drew closer to me. One was drooling. Really!

For a second, Captain Blood stood close enough for me to smell his unwashed body, and stared into my eyes. In that one long, terrible second my fate was decided. He turned to leave, barking orders as he went.

Eager hands pulled me down to the deck and I feared the worst was to happen. Yet my legs were not spread wide but gathered together and bound at the ankles with rope. Many rude hands picked me up and carried me towards the side of the ship. I feared they were going to toss me overboard, in which case I would surely drown with my hands and feet bound. But at the side where I was lowered into one of the longboats.

Our journey was short as I lay in the hard bottom of the boat and endured the rocking of the waves. Then I was dragged out of the boat and dumped on a beach. I remembered that there had been some small islands we were passing when attacked. With many a crude comment about women in general and me specifically, these dirty killers dug a hole in the sand not far from the lapping waves. My heart was sinking as the size and purpose of the hole became obvious.

They hoisted me to my feet. Rough hands began tearing at my expensive clothing, rudely and painfully pulling the fabric from my body. Bit by bit, my coverings gave way, exposing my body to these

barbarians. Soon I was standing there, naked save for the rope holding my hands behind my back and my ankles together.

They stared. And I knew why. I have a body that men lust after and other women hate. My large breasts are perfect in shape. My hips slender and my legs long. My tummy is very trim. With my long black hair framing a beautiful face, I knew I was more woman than these ruffians had ever seen, let alone have, in all their miserable lives.

But their fear of Captain Blood was greater than their lust. With many a nervous glance back towards the black ship, they carried me to the hole and dumped me in. I struggled to a sitting position but could not crawl out. One of the rogues held my head while the others pushed the sand over my naked body. I could see the sand covering my legs as they stretched out before me. Then the sand filled up to my hips. I struggled, but the ropes and that one seaman held me prisoner. Soon the sand was covering my tummy. I watched in disbelief as they pushed more and more in until it covered my breasts.

I think it was then I started pleading with them and offering money, my body, anything to stop this. They ignored me. Soon, the beach was as smooth as it had been. Save, that is, for my head sticking out. The sand was packed right up to my chin and held my body completely immobile. With laughter and many a crude comment about the crabs, the pirates returned to their boat and shoved off.

For a few long minutes I struggled. It seemed that it should be possible for me to wiggle or push myself out of the sand. But I was wrong. The weight of that sand held my legs and body solidly with an iron grip. Had I been buried shallow, I might have struggled free even with the ropes holding my hands and feet. But all I could do was shake my head in frustration and curse.

I cried. There was nothing else to do. I think I even screamed for help. I know I cursed Captain Blood. He certainly knew how to make a person die painfully. Gang rape by his crew began to seem preferable to starving to death in this sandy grave.Property © 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.

For a while I could see their long boat as it rowed away, but then it passed out of my view and all I could see was the sun and sand and sea. The hours passed slowly. I alternated between cursing and sobbing. The gentle waves approached my face but stopped a foot away. The pirates had placed me well - I would not drown, but slowly starve to death. Unless I was misjudging the tide and it would come in higher at a later time.