Residing, as it did, in one of the less favored parts of town, there had been little interest in buying up and attempting to rehabilitate the charred, rain-soaked carcass, despite the rooms within that had received little more than smoke. Nor could anyone be bothered to gather a work crew to haul it down. A group of squatters had been crushed underneath a fire-damaged ceiling beam, and rumors that the place was haunted, either by the unfortunate would-be tenants or the guest who had started the original fire, had served to keep the Chain and Goblet free of further squatters, looters, and other ne'er-do-wells.

But tonight, there was a lantern burning in the window, clearly visible from the little-trodden road by which the men of the Grinning Folly approached.

Ashok, the first mate, found the sight unlikely in its convenience.

Captain Wilkes and his officers had been hot on the trail of Reginald Keene, the Grinning Folly's pilot, for the better part of a week. It appeared that the charming young man had made some manner of deal with the dockworkers at the port where the Folly had found refuge, fat with spoils from raiding a succession of Spanish treasure galleons. Much of the crew had been deep in celebration of their presumed share of the profits when the news reached their captain that thousands of gold coins had disappeared in the course of a couple of hours, along with the Folly's pilot.

The dockworkers had been all too eager to give up their co-conspirator, leading the furious Wilkes to a provisioner, a wagon company, a number of fine inns, and even an undertaker- a detail Ashok still found difficult to believe. At each footprint, seemingly left only hours behind Keene, some combination of coin, rum, and dire threats brought on a new lead, bringing them finally to the harbor town of Banningsbrook and the ruins of the Chain and Goblet.

By now, Ashok was all but certain that the wily Keene had led them on a wild goose chase, but he wasn't about to say as much to Captain Wilkes. Men had been flogged to death, that first day the gold was discovered gone, and the week's chase had only fed the man's fury.

And there was that lantern, whatever it was worth. Ashok stifled a sigh. Perhaps the fifteenth time was the charm.

"Quiet as thieves," Wilkes hissed. "Adders- you're first through that door."

The enormous, shaven-headed boatswain gave a curt nod. Ashok leaned into his long, gliding strides as he followed in the big man's wake, tugging his cutlass from his sash. The front door of the inn squealed on its neglected hinges, and the first mate gritted his teeth.

"Reggie? Darling, are you come for me at last?"

The soft, feminine voice had barely piped the last syllable as Adders barreled through the door. Quickly that voice rose into a squeal of fright. The bo'sun had a half-seen figure held tightly around the waist, spinning them bodily about; Ashok dodged to the side as a swirl of blue skirts and accompanying leather-shod feet spun at him.

The captain's voice boomed as he proceeded the others into the main room of the inn. "Well, boys... What do we have here?"

What indeed? Cobb, the Quartermaster, set tinder to a second lamp as he pressed inside, placing the illumination on the bar to supplement the mediocre light of the lantern by the window. As the figure struggling in Adders' cannon-barrel arms became better visible, the long-at-sea privateers licked their lips.

She was tall for a woman, though Adders had two heads and more over her and easily held her struggling form off the ground. Long, lustrous black hair hung halfway to her waist where it didn't fly about as she kicked. Her garments identified her as a barmaid, and their plunging neckine and tight bodice reveled in showing off a lavishly full bosom and an hourglass figure. Her skin was fair and flawless; her eyes a shocking ice-blue accentuated by the cobalt of the skirt. She had high cheekbones, an upturned nose, and full, rosebud lips that begged to be kissed... or bitten.

"Set her down, Adders." Wilkes ordered as Longmire and Marsters, the last of the six, followed into the inn's main room. "She 'int going nowhere."

The woman's eyes darted about as the bo'sun set her down. Once his arms disengaged about her waist, she flung herself towards the door, only to be intercepted by the unyielding mass of the Master Gunner, Longmire, who shoved her backwards as the men formed a ring around her. Cobb leered as she fell against him, grabbing her by the hips and grinding his crotch against her backside before tossing her forward again. Marsters, the Master Gunner, grinned as she came to him, seizing her by the hair and pressing his mouth into hers as she squealed.

"That's enough right now, lads," Wilkes snapped. Marsters quickly released his hold on the girl as the Captain approached, taking his own hold on the back of the dress' neck, turning him around roughly to face her. Looking into her trembling eyes, he struck her sharply across the face.

"I said you 'int going nowhere," he snarled, "and you'd be wise to take that as a certainty, missy, 'lest you want to be a damned sight less pretty."

The trembling girl nodded her assent as she raised her hands to protect her face, whimpering. Ashok could not help but notice how the lass' struggles made her chest rise and fall... Nor, he was certain, was he the only one who had noticed that the captain had said, "right now".

Wilkes released his hold on her dress. "Have a name, strumpet?"

Her face lifted as her hands descended; for a moment, the mate would have sworn she was about to protest being labeled "strumpet". Whatever she had been about to say, however, it died as she looked upon the hard visage of Captain Wilkes.

"Deirdre, sir."

"Deirdre. Did no one tell you that the Chain and Goblet were no longer serving drinks?"

The officers laughed. Deirdre took a half-step back, her gaze scattering like that of a cornered animal.

"I... Left something behind the night the Goblet burned, sir. An heirloom. I came back to see if it might have remained."

"You would be wise to stop lying to me, girl. I've never heard of an heirloom 'twas called 'Reggie' I would expect to walk through a front door."

Deirdre's mouth opened, then closed, her lower lip fluttering a moment. Her eyes looked upward, then closed; it was all Ashok could do not to snort, the next lie was so obvious in its approach.

"Reggie was the barman, sir; he was supposed to meet me tonight to help me search-"

"Cobb! Bind the bitch's hands."

Deirdre's words cut with a yelp as the Quartermaster seized her arms. A thick hempen rope emerged from his pouch, and was quickly in five tight loops and an unbreakable seaman's knot around the young woman's wrists.

A steel hook intended for cloaks extended from one of the room's support pillars; at Wilkes' direction, the girl was hoisted to hang by her new bindings from it, her toes only just touching the floor. The stretched posture only flattered the young woman's fetching figure further, thrusting out her chest and tightening her slender waist. Her lips drew back from her teeth as she groaned in discomfort.

"'Reggie', wench." Wilkes snapped. "Where is he? When did you last see him?"

"Th- the barman? Not for a month and gone- Ah!"

Wilkes slapped her across the face again.

"Do not be such a fool as to think I shall go easy on you for being a woman, you stupid quim. Where is Reginald Keene?"

Again, Ashok could clearly see the recognition of the name on Deirdre's face; whoever she might be, she had neither training nor gift for deception.

"I- I know no 'Keene', sir, please-! Uff-!"

The captain's fist struck Deirdre's midriff, but he quickly pulled it away, shaking his wrist and grimacing.

"Cursed whalebone, 's like hitting a plank."

A long, sharp knife emerged from his belt.

"Fuck it."

The woman's eyes widened as the gleaming steel moved toward her neckline. The blade dove between her bodice and shift; crossed lacings burst apart as the knife made short work of them. As the last lace sheared apart, the stiff fabric crumpled apart and fell to the floor. The first mate keenly noted that the garment's absence made little difference in the high pitch of her bosom, nor the narrowness of her waist; the woman was a beauty of profound natural gifts.

Wilkes' fingers pushed against her abdomen, now protected only by the thin white linen of her shift.

"There," he snarled, smirking coldly. "That's the give of woman-flesh."

"Huuffff-!"

This time Wilkes' fist drove deep into the girl's belly, causing her to crumple, her feet quivering as her bent posture lifted her from the floor. Long seconds passed before the blow allowed her to settle back onto them.

"Reginald Keene." Wilkes repeated. "We can be at this as long as it takes."

Tears gleamed in Deirdre's eyes. "You, sir," she spat, "are no gentleman!"

The other officers laughed. Wilkes' eyes narrowed to slits.

"No, slut. Not a gentleman among us; just hard-working men of fortune who've been long at sea. Too long, for the pleasures denied us- decent drink, fresh meat, soft beds. Not to mention women."

There was a low rumble of agreement among the men, agreement touched with hunger.

"Men as us have risked our lives to lend aid to our nation and bring home our bounty, and we've right to expect each our fair share of the latter. And once we've reached shore, to spend that share as pleases us... Including on drink, meat, and women. But your 'Reggie', he's gone and run off with a good half of what's rightfully ours, much as stealing half a year of our lives. And if you think his doxy's going to stand between us and our desserts..."

Wilkes looked down at Deirdre's heaving neckline. "Well, mayhap we should start getting back some of what we're owed here and now."

The blood drained from Deirdre's face. "Sir... I meant no disrespect for your lineage..."

The knife still in Wilkes' hand stabbed into the pillar just beside Deirdre's slender neck, provoking a terrified shriek from the girl.

"Reginald Keene, you sow! I care naught for aught else! Now speak, or I start apportioning out this bounty-" his hand cupped around her heaving breast- "to the men!"

"Best stay silent, wench," Marsters murmured with a leer. There was a laugh from the other officers, quickly stilled as Wilkes whirled back to glare at them. As quickly, his stare returned to transfix the girl bound against the pillar.

"Sir...!" She swallowed hard. "Please..." Her eyes went down to the hand on her breast, but again the words died in her mouth in the wake of the Captain's fury. She swallowed again, drew a deep breath, and began to speak quickly.

"Reginald... Is my betrothed. We were to elope this night. He instructed me that I was to dress thus to avoid scrutiny, and to light a lantern in the window of the Chain and Goblet so that he would know I was here. Hence we were to slip away together under cover of darkness, to start our new lives in some distant and exotic land where no one would know of us, and no one would come with intent to harry us back to our drudgery."

Wilkes cocked his head. A moment later, a dry, barking laugh escaped his lips.

"What? And no 'Reggie' here? No gallant young pilot, here for his mistress? Exactly how long have you been waiting, whore?"

Deirdre's face crumpled as she began to cry. "I do not know... I do not know why he is not yet come... Soon, surely soon...!"

"Where did he stay in town? Where did he plan to travel next? With whom did he plan and prepare provisions for this journey? Did he discuss none of this with his 'betrothed'?"

"I do not know, sir, please, I do not...!"

His hand seized her throat. "Lying whore!"

"I don't know!" She squeaked. "I tell you truly, I cannot tell you what I have never been told!"

"I've had enough of your stories, woman! You've had your chance to speak, and now you will scream. Adders," he snapped, "Get mistress Deirdre on her back on the bar so the men can have a piece!"

"No!" Deirdre screamed as the giant hoisted her from the hook. "Please, Captain, sir, have mercy on a maid-!"

Her words were lost as she was slammed down on the hard wood of the Chain and Goblet's bar. The others quickly clustered around her, pulling her down its length until her legs dangled, kicking, at the far end.

"Hold her down, boys," Wilkes commanded. "Longmire, you can have her first. Show the others how it's done!"

The Lieutenant eagerly seized the woman's skirts, hauling them up her waist as she kicked and screamed. His hands bypassed the thigh-high satin stockings the beauty wore to go straight for her knickers, which bunched as he jerked them upward, stretching painfully between Deirdre's buttocks and genital cleft before ripping apart.

"You- you dare not do this!" She whimpered. "My father-!"

"Your father's going to have to wait his turn with the rest, dove!" Longmire sneered. The others laughed coarsely as Longmire pulled his erect cock from his breeches. "Hold her tight, now!"

Rough, sea-worn hands gripped the girl's slender limbs, forcing her thighs apart. Ashok couldn't keep his eyes from the girl's jiggling chest, even as he fought her left arm down onto the bar.

"No romancing this one, you salt," Wilkes barked. "Put it to her hard! Show her the price of her lies!"

"Aye, captain!"

Her hips bucked helplessly as he pressed his anatomy against the petals of her sex. Then his hands were at her waist, and he drove forward.

Deirdre's head slammed backward against the bar."No...!"

A flow of red greeted the retreat of Longmire's penetration.

"Saints preserve us! The barmaid's a virgin!"

Wilkes sneered. "Well, that puts paid to her story, then! Not a chance a rascal like Keene would keep such a prize unsullied if he'd promised to marry her! Lay on! All the easier to hurt a tight cunt!"

And so it was, but Longmire took no ease in deflowering the beauty. His powerful thrusts slammed into her shaking body, threatening to bow her back upward even in the men's tight grip. Scream after scream burst from Deirdre's rose lips, and the tears poured freely from her eyes as Longmire had his way with her.

"Don't break that little quim until the rest of us get a shot, now, Longmire!" Cobb taunted.

"No promises...!" The snarling lieutenant barked, rearing back for another thrust. "...Hungh!"

As the buckling of her body flung her breasts about, it became harder and harder for Ashok to resist; finally, he gave up and partially released her arm to free his hand to grope her bosom. Her flesh was warm and soft, her nipple hardening under the linen at his touch despite her suffering. She let out a whimper as he squeezed, feeling the soft orb give under the increasing urgency of his touch.

Longmire grew even more brutal as his climax approached, his fingers jabbing into her buttocks and waist as he held her down to endure his ardor. Her satin-decked legs jerked helplessly as he thrust, pulling back to drive the full measure of his manhood into her bleeding channel, her exhausted cries becoming animalistic grunts as he pounded breath from her body.

"There's seed, doxy," he snarled as he ejaculated in the whimpering woman. "Take it. Take it all!"

And with hardly a pause, he jerked free of her, leaving a trickle of blood and semen flowing from the sobbing Deirdre.

Wilkes glowered down at the pitiful woman.

"Have a new story about your 'Reggie', strumpet?"

"...In- in God's name, sir..." Deirdre sobbed. "I have told you all, withheld n-n-nothing...! Have mercy, sir, please, have mercy on a maid...!"

Bending, Wilkes grabbed the barmaid's torn knickers from where they lay upon the floor.

"No longer a 'maid', you mewling bitch. And no mercy!"

And with that, he thrust the rag into her mouth, pushing until it was all but at her throat and clamping his hand over her lips.

"Marsters, take your turn. Fuck her like you want to drill a hole in that bar."

The master gunner nodded eagerly as Longmire took up his place, holding the woman's satin-sheened thigh in splay. With a swift tug, he pulled open his breeches, his hard length springing forth in readiness for the deed. His rough hands spread across her cream-white belly as he reached under her skirts, pulling her towards him.

Deirdre's head shook frantically, but to no avail; the cords of her neck went rigid, her eyes squeezing out tears as he drove himself inside of her. Wilkes nodded approvingly as Marsters quickly escalated both the pace and force of his attack on her body, seeking to outdo the savagery of Longmire's assault on the former maiden's lush body.

"Lads," The captain announced, "I know many of you would already have had many a night in the arms of a service-minded wench, had Keene not done us his discourtesy. And sweet Deirdre, here, has done us the disservice of being not six women to slake our lust, but merely one. I find that a punishable offense."

Ashok quickly withdrew his hand from Deirdre's bouncing bosom as Wilkes reached down to the barmaid's chest, seizing the delicate fabric of her shift and wrenching it apart, baring the fair globes of her bosom, crested at their peaks with jutting, coral-pink nipples.

"Cobb! Have another rope handy?"

"Aye, sir," The quartermaster growled, pulling the thick hempen braid from his rucksack.

"How badly do you wish you were Marsters, here, plunging your cock into this squirming beauty?"

The snarl on Cobb's face as his teeth pulled back from his yellowed teeth was answer enough.

"Good. I want to see you take out that frustration on her. Flog those soft tits with that rope."

Deirdre gave out a muffled cry as the order was spoken, her back rising from the bar only to be crushed back down as Ashok and Cobb shoved down upon her shoulders. Cobb measured out an arm's-length of the thick rope, giving it a tentative swing through the air. Satisfied, he turned his attention back to Deirdre's galloping breasts, and after a moment's hesitation, swung the rope down to smack into the trembling globes.

"MMPHH-!"

"Harder, you sorry whoreson!" Wilkes snapped. "The lying bitch has foregone any right to be treated like a lady. Beat her!"

Marsters let out a coarse laugh as he slammed home between the restrained barmaid's thighs, a pearl of saliva dripping from his open, chortling mouth to bead on her taut ribcage. After watching the gunner plunder the girl's sex for a long moment, Cobb pulled the heavy rope back over his shoulder, glaring down at her exposed body before twisting his work-hardened torso back, throwing weight and muscle into the swing.

The echo of the report from the rope slamming down on her breasts was loud enough to make Ashok wince. A squeal of unmistakable agony was choked off by the rag in her mouth, and Deirdre's head rose, only to collapse back onto the wood and shake as she sobbed.

Wilkes sneered savagely at the pink stripe that lit up across those soft white peaks. "That's it! Whip the lying whore! She as good as stole your share herself- hurt her!"

Marsters visibly enjoyed the buxom barmaid's writhing as he exerted his lust on the sobbing girl, timing his devastating thrusts between the blows to her breasts to better keep the miserable woman in a near-constant state of cruel, deliberate suffering. Harder and harder his body crashed upon hers, like a callous, storm-wracked ocean trying to wrench a marooned sailor from a rock.

"Defile the wench, Marsters!" Longmire urged. "Pound her cunt 'til you burst!"

And still the rope fell on Deirdre's most tender flesh, buckling her sweet feminine bosom with each terrible lash, tears pouring down her cheeks as Cobb flogged the helpless girl's chest. Stripe after stripe announced itself on her tantalizing flesh, laid bare to the sailors' lust and wrath.

"Going to come in you- harlot..." Marsters roared, teeth bared in a disdainful sneer. "Going to pump my jizzum in your slit- worthless- trollop- bitch- whore- cunt- slut...!"

"Give it to her, Marsters!" Wilkes exhorted. "Make her take it all!"

With a screech that could have roused the dead, Marsters drove home into her, his entire body jittering as he emptied his balls into the quivering, weeping barmaid. When the deed was done, he collapsed against her, Cobb withholding his next blow barely in time as the gunner's head came down upon her rose-striped bosom. Deirdre's unmistakable sobbing made her cushiony chest an uneasy pillow, however, and after a moment's pause Marsters pushed himself upright with his hands, pausing only a moment to take the girl's nipple between his teeth. A pained squeak greeted the new indignity, and then he released her, pushed away to allow the next man access to their conquest.

"Take your fill of her, now, Cobb," Wilkes ordered. "But give over the lash to Ashok, here. There's frustration enough to be slaked among us, and I want to see how red those big tits can burn."

Cobb loomed over Deirdre as he positioned himself between her parted legs, his hands cresting eagerly along her thighs and hips. With a sneer, he spat into her face; then his hands seized her hips, and he drove into her to in a single, violent thrust.

Her eyes squeezed shut, a wet, buzzing moan escaping through the foul cloth in her mouth. As Cobb began to fuck her in earnest- slow and hard, deliberate in his desire to hurt the girl's sex- her blue eyes looked to Ashok, at nineteen the closest to her in age. Wordlessly she pleaded with him as her body bucked and fell against the bar with the force of the quartermaster's penetrations.

The first mate was ambivalent. Though he had seen his share of blood while serving on the Grinning Folly, and Captain Wilkes was not hesitant to dole out harsh punishment among the crew, he had never seen the captain's wild-eyed fury turned thus on a woman. Part of him quailed to be a part of it.

Yet he had served many years on the Folly, and shared both hardship and fortune with the men around him. He valued his place among them, and wanted to be seen as a man, not a youth.

And he could not deny the lust that the barmaid's body provoked in him, nor how Keene's betrayal still lay sour in his mouth. What was this "Deirdre", but an obstacle between the men and their hard-earned spoils? Another pretty Englishwoman who would turn up her nose at the sight of his dark Indian complexion?

His hand closed again on the barmaid's tumbling, rope-marked breast, feeling the heat that rose through the flushed stripes. His thumbnail scraped across the welts, and she turned away, her wet, heavy-lidded eyes staring through the ceiling as she struggled to endure.

It was as though she had rejected him.

"Here's for those soft tits, then, slut." He whispered hoarsely, pulling his hand away.

The rope made a harsh snap as it slashed across her heaving bosom. Her back arched; Cobb roared as he slammed her hips back onto the bar and drove wetly into her womanhood, spearing through her, punishing her.

But Ashok didn't stop for a moment. The rope coursed down onto Deirdre's soft skin in an unrelenting rain as the rape continued, to the point that even the other officers drew half a step away at the ferocity of his attack, half-certain he might miss his mark with the makeshift whip and open up someone's face or eye.

But they kept their hold on the girl, and Ashok's aim was as relentless as his anger. The hemp bit into her breasts, crested, and came back for another bite like a pack of savage dogs. Fair skin turned pink; welts, crossed over, turned angrier shades of maroon and violet.

"Yes, lad!" Wilkes encouraged. "Strip the skin from those teats! Split them open!"

Deirdre's muffled cries became like the piping of a bird as the flogging of her bosom demanded her voice but the crushing thrusts of the quartermaster left her devoid of breath. Hard and deep Cobb took her, sneering his delight in her anguish.

"Down to the knot of your womb, princess," He spat. "Feel the ram at your gates?"

Every man could see the impact as the quartermaster's cock hammered her cervix, see her eyes drawn upward, her trim belly tighten; feel her hands and feet flutter in their grasp as the unendurable cramp tore through her body. The spectacle of her pale, delicate body's contraction was so shocking that even Ashok paused in his assault.

"More's coming, bitch... Here's payment...!"

Again he plunged deep; it was as if he took a knife to her vitals. Slowly he withdrew, and came back again, vengeful, terrible, assaulting the sacred space within her with his manhood as he gazed into her wracked, tear-wet face.

"Ache for me while you take my seed... Surrender it into your garden and make me a bastard...!"

Again, the thrust, her entire body shaking with denial of it; another, and pumping, pumping his hateful and hate-filled semen inside her, spurting against the aching portal of her fertile chamber, desecrating her.

At last the quartermaster's body relaxed, and the girl beneath him wilted in turn, exhausted and hurting. Her legs tilted listlessly as Cobb planted a hand on her hip and shoved away, leaving a wet strand of his issue to trail down onto the tavern's dusty floor.

Deirdre's throat bobbed as Wilkes yanked her torn underwear from her mouth, clumped and wet through with her spit.

"A new tale of your wondrous 'Reggie' to share, wench? Or are those pretty lips reserved for screaming tonight?"

She swallowed and coughed, hitching breaths shaking her beaten breasts as she struggled not to sob.

"S-s-sir... He... Reggie... Reginald, he..."

Wilkes flicked her right nipple with a yellowed thumbnail, and Deirdre shrieked.

"Quit stalling, you whinging cur!"

"...He mentioned he had... business. To... To meet investors in a new... a new venture..."

"Indeed? And where was he to meet these 'investors'?"

Deirdre swallowed again, taking two deep, shaking breaths before she could continue. Ashok's hands tightened on the rope as he watched her breasts heave.

"In... in Stilwich, sir."

"Mmm. And he must have traveled handsomely, to impress these investors?"

"Yes, sir..."

"Carriage? How many men to the team? How many horses?"

Deirdre began to speak more quickly.

"A most elegant carriage, sir... Closed-top, all in mahogany, with red leather on the seats, and a splendid crest in gold on the side. T-ten... No, twelve horses, and five men attending."

"'Strewth? A fine way to travel."

"Y-y-yes, sir..."

She tried to smile at the weathered captain, but her lips only trembled before grimacing in pain.

"Not the most subtle of conveyances, though..."

She swallowed. "No...?"

"...In fact, I would imagine we would have taken note of such a thing passing on the road as we made our way here from Stilwich."

The lovely mouth gaped; her lower lip fluttered.

"...Perhaps I misheard, it was not Stilwich-!"

Wilkes backhanded her sharply across the face, splitting open her lip and cutting her words into a cry.

"Fuck her, Ashok."

The mate's heart galloped in his chest; the rope fell at his feet. Longmire clapped him on the back as he walked around the bar to where the barmaid's weeping sex was exposed between the men who held her thighs apart.

Deirdre's body quivered on the hard wood as the angry sailors held her pinned to it, new sobs rocking her lovely bare torso.

"Please, sirs... Please, I beg you, in God's name, no more...!"

"God has no more patience for a false witness than I do, you snake-tongued cunt," Wilkes barked. "Now take the treatment you've earned!"

Her nether lips were red, Ashok noticed, angry with the mistreatment, with forced penetration. He breathed hard as he pulled down his trousers, his long, narrow cock springing to attention.

Her body resisted him as he pushed against her, though not for long; the others had left her with little strength for it. She moaned as he thrust inside of her, so hot, so tight. He tried not to think that the wetness of her was others' seed.

Plunging deep, his mouth fell open. The softness of her. His hands were on her hips, and her skin was silk and goose down. Down her thighs, over her stockings, the satin clinging tightly to her damp, straining muscles. Over her belly, feeling her abdomen hitch as he thrust, hard and then soft, rising and sinking with her breathing, with her cries. Over her ribs, taut beneath her skin as she rocked with his penetration. Over her breasts, angry motley with the lashes he had inflicted upon them; the slightest touch and she keened with the pain.

Crouching down, Wilkes grabbed the rope the first mate had allowed to fall in his reverie, handing the improvised whip over to Adders. "You'd best take your hands from those pretty tits, 'Shok, because I'm not tired of seeing them dance to the beat by a long shot."

Hastily Ashok jerked his hands away from the pliant, burning mounds, bracing his grip again on her hips. His fingers curled beneath her to squeeze her pert ass, digging into her flesh as he pulled himself into her.

When the massive boatswain brought the rope down on Deirdre's breasts, Ashok had to restrain himself from crying out as Deirdre did. The barmaid's pain sent a wave of tension through her body, bucking her hips and gripping his girth within her. By the fifth fearsome blow, the mate realized that he would not be long in reaching his own climax inside of her.

"Adders-" he gasped, struggling to contain his ecstasy. "Adders, please...!"

The giant cocked his head as Ashok panted, biting his lip as he continued to plunder the raven-tressed beauty on the bar.

"Her... Her nipples- hit her across the nipples...!"

Deirdre gasped, looking up at the mate with an expression of horror and betrayal.

"...Y-you beast-!"

...And then the rope slammed down upon the swollen pink nubs, and all she could do was scream.

Without words, Ashok raped her, hard and fast, watching as the rope came down across the centers of her feminine bounty. Watched the mighty blows cleave the soft flesh, watched it bounce back with resilience, newly marked with blue and purple in the pattern of a sailor's rough hemp rope. Watched her aureole darken to angry brown and purple. Watched the fragile skin on the peaks of her breasts crack, and then bleed. All the while her pussy rewarded him for the blows, milking his cock with sweet agony until he burst inside of her, jetting forth his cum to join the dirty spillage his comrades had left inside of her.

Spent, he staggered backward, barely finding and settling into one of the rough chairs scattered around the taproom. One of the chair's legs almost immediately broke beneath him, spilling him unceremoniously to the floor.

The men laughed as Ashok felt his face grow hot. Longmire held out a hand.

"Don't think much of it, m'lad," he chortled as he pulled him to his feet. "All the best fucking leads to broken furniture, one way or another."

Wilkes threw aside his captain's coat as he started around the bar. "I'll be taking mine, now."

Adders gave a low grunt. Wilkes looked over at him. "Yes, Adders. I hear you- the man peeling her tits has gotten the next fuck thus far. But I'm not sure this girl's sweet cunt will take what a man of your size can give her... And if it can, it's sure to be a cavern before you come. So kindly make way for your captain."

Deirdre turned her head to the side, sobbing as Wilkes pulled at his belt buckle.

"If only we had some hope of reclaiming what's ours," Wilkes commented dryly as he extracted his anatomy. "Trying to fuck a whore to the point that she redeems half a ship hold's worth of gold coins? Seems a tall order. I don't know if many a lass would be likely to withstand as much."

He put his hand on her jaw, roughly turning her to face him as he pushed the head of his cock against her sore anatomy.

"Now give me that cunt, bitch."

And then he forced himself inside of her.

Wilkes was a crusty old salt, a man closing on fifty in a trade that saw a lucky few retire before they made half a century, and many more in their graves decades before achieving such antiquity. But he put it to the barmaid with impressive vigor and great violence, relishing the pain and humiliation etched on the young woman's face.

"Don't you be going loose on us already, you lazy pigshit." Wilkes snarled, driving hard between the beauty's thighs. "Let me feel how a young lass' quim can grasp a man!" Deirdre shut her eyes, her lips parted and pulling back from her teeth, panting whimpers bursting from her mouth which every thrust. Wilkes' hand moved down to her slender throat.

"You- will- learn- to- obey- you- harlot!"

Extending two fingers on his other hand, the captain jammed them between her lips and into the back of her throat. The young woman's body jerked violently as she gagged; Wilkes leaned forward, pressing her as he continued to hammer her womanhood.

"That's it... That's it, you little slut. Let me feel your hips and belly heaving. Grasp me with your wretched core...!"

His hand pushed into her mouth, thrusting in time with his hips as the unfortunate girl writhed and gagged. She tried to turn away from the tormenting fingers, but the hand at her neck only tightened until her face turned an alarming shade of purple.

"That's it, Cap!" Cobb cheered. "Choke the lying strumpet!"

Wilkes paid no heed. He seemed to be somewhere else, somewhere where only the miserable barmaid and himself were present, harvesting her suffering.

"Learned this in the Navy, vixen." he growled. "The throat locks up, so does the cunt... So does the ass... Doesn't matter if you're a weathered whore or a newly anointed nun. Now you'll give me... your sweet... tight... little... cunt...!"

Deirdre's eyes were wide, wild as she struggled. Piteous gagging sounds burst from her mouth with each withdrawal of Wilkes' fingers, her body bowing as she fought the urge to retch. The captain let out a animal grunt as he surged forward, the mounting exertion of piercing her straining birth canal evident in the force with which his thrusts drove back her hips, lifted her legs, shook her torso.

The hand at her throat pulled away, cuffing her across the face. But the pulsing fingers in her throat were enough now to keep poor Deirdre's head immobilized, and she took the full brunt of the blow across her cheek.

"There's bounty here, men-"

His hand slapped down hard on her right breast.

"-It must be seized-"

Then her left, ringing blows into the vulnerable, sensitive, abused flesh.

"-Must be claimed-"

His hand clenched into a fist.

"-in PAIN!"

He buried his calloused knuckles deep in her belly as he forced his hand into her mouth, and Deirdre vomited.

Bile spilled grotesquely over her chin, spurting around his fingers and she began to choke. As she thrashed, Wilkes pinned her to the bar, his fist still planted in her stomach, riding out her writhing spasms, pushing his fist into her quivering diaphragm as he fucked her.

"Such a good CUNT- such a tight CUNT- such a proud, pretty, suffering... little... CUNT."

He pulled out early, and the last of what must have been many spasms of his manhood splattered semen across the girl's torso. Without orders, the men holding her limbs turned her on her side and began pounding on her back, trying to clear the vomitus from her throat before she drowned in it.

Shaking and choking slowly turned to coughing as the last contents of the barmaid's stomach poured messily from her mouth and over the bar. Then gasping, straining to draw breath through her battered throat.

When her breathing cleared, they turned her again onto her back. Her lips opened and closed, fishlike, her eyes wide and staring.

"Hwuhhhh... Hwuhhh...m-m-muh..."

The girl started to sob.

"M-mother..."

Wilkes snorted, pulling a handkerchief from his discarded coat and mopping the mess from her face and throat with efficiency, but not a trace of tenderness.

"Ah- a..."

She swallowed and coughed, which only brought on more crying.

"Are- y- you- going t-to... k-kill... me...?"

Wilkes smiled for the first time in weeks.

"Only if you're very lucky."