Hawkes of the Sea: a pirate fantasy

[Ticklish Girl]

Sister Therese

As I gather with the other sisters on the shore, the good Father leads us in a little prayer of thanksgiving for our safe arrival. I know that some of the other captives see our prayers as so much foolishness, but I don’t care. I am so happy to be out in the daylight and fresh air after spending so much time in that dark, fetid hold. I love feeling solid ground under my feet once more. And I am further gratified to see that the young Spanish maid whom we befriended and counseled during the journey has survived the trip with her body and sanity intact – another blessing, as I was truly worried for her at times. If those things don’t call for giving thanks to the Lord, I don’t know what does.

My good spirits subside a little when I see the crowd that has turned out to greet the ship. So many people, staring and pointing and laughing at us as if we’re nothing more than a collection of exotic beasts brought there just to amuse them. A lot of raucous noise and coarse language fueled by rum and wine. An atmosphere of sin and debauchery so thick that one could cut it with a knife. I draw closer to the sisters and for the first time I notice how apprehensive they seem. Perhaps they are just intimidated by the noise and rowdiness – after all, we are used to the quiet, contemplative life we led back in the French countryside. But the good Father looks worried too, and that makes me a little nervous.

Just then the captain and his first mate come ashore. The crowd greets them with loud, bawdy cheers, and then the captain delivers a speech that makes me want to clap my hands over my ears. What happened to the polite, courtly man who addressed us so respectfully?

 

[sojournerwolf]

OOC:

Welcome back, Kimberly! Nope, haven't given a description for Jeremiah yet. Would you care to work up a description of Elizabeth aka She-Devil and I will develop one for Jeremiah based upon a male extrapolation from her features? Look forward to seeing you on the Island, sis.

IC:

JEREMIAH HAWKE

I raise my pistol into the air and fire it to quieten the crowd. While our guests look uneasy, still they seem to be able to maintain a sense of calm. It is time, I decide, to begin chipping away at their illusions.

"My friends!" I say, "You who have lived and sailed with us, have known the generosity of the Hawkes. Many of you own fine jewels and clothing, are wealthy beyond the dreams of even minor nobles. And do we not, when the season is upon us, venture into the islands where baliffs and even the Governor himself hide themselves away when you swagger down the streets?

"Yet, there are those who are not content with such largesse. Rather, there are those among us who would STEAL, aye, STEAL for their own selfish reasons."

I listen to the crowd roar their anger and disapproval. There is an undercurrent of anticipation, for this is not the first time, nor would I venture the last that someone let foolishness overcome good sense, despite the reputation of Hawke Island justice.

"Bring forth the prisoner," I roar.

He is roughly handled forward, in chains, and shoved to the ground before me. A young lad, blonde and blue eyed, comely in his features. I recall his name, James, a deserter from the harsh rigors of the British Navy. Perhance, he might now prefer to have stayed and served the older sailors on that military vessel as their toy.

"James, James," I say, "it gives me great sorrow to know you have betrayed us with your greed. Yet, I am not an unreasonable man. Confess your sins against us, and be made clean."

I gesture to the French priest who is brought forward.

"Father, would you hear this young man's confession, that he might make his peace with God and with his comrades?"

The priest looks nervous and tries to argue with me that this should be done in private. I shake my head.

"Nay, Father. What may he says should be heard by all, so that we here may likewise know the mercy of the Church."

The Father goes through his mumbled ritual. James, dazed and numb, holding his bandaged hand before him, looks at me, then at Black Bart and breaks down in sobs as he babbles nonesense about his poor family back in England.

The Father gives him absolution. And I smile.

"Ah, James," I say, "does that not feel better? to have made your peace with the Almighty? I would that you might likewise know the mercy of the Hawke."

He looks at me with trusting eyes, hope brimming like tears.
I gesture to two of the crew members who lift him from the sand.

"To the lagoon and the walk of mercy," I say.

The crowd roars with approval. James begins to scream as he is drug away. I and the crew follow, Black Bart striding beside me. We come to the lagoon where a small platform sits out in mid water.

James' chains are removed and his clothing stripped from him. I hear a few mutters from the crowd over the waste of such a fine specimen of manhood. He is taken to the platform via narrow planks. They hold pistols on him so he will not follow, as they retreat down the planks and they are removed. In the dying sun of the day, James stands there, naked, on the narrow platform.

Black Bart and I move towards the shore. The platform is well within reach of his whip.

"How long do ye think he'll be able to endure your lash ere he takes the dive?" I ask Black Bart.

This is the place we have long dumped our scraps and offal. The sea going predators it has attracted already have made their presence known by the silent fins cutting the water.

 

[MtnAngelWV]

A Rough Journey

I began to feel more and more nauseous as the ship was tossed from side to side. I was determined not to vomit as this would add to the already vile stench of this place. At least I had one thing to look forward to, to keep my mind occupied. I heard one of these servant people speak of the crew on this ship. Apparently the captain was a woman. Imagine one of my own was forcing me to be held against my will. She must be one of those type of women that Father had warned me. She must be a harlot or a Jezzabelle.

Thankfully, her brother was also a captain of another ship and they apparently worked as a team, from what I was able to gather. I smiled as I thought how easy it would be for me to rationalize with him. Even if he was the beastliest man ever to walk the face of the earth, he will not be able to resist Amanda Lancaster. I had not met a man that I could not charm. I sat a little taller as these thoughts boost my already solid self-confidence and a smile upon my delicate lips.

 

[BLACK BART]

Black Bart, first mate

I have brought with me the "Lady of Death" a 40 foot bullwhip, a whip made of horse hair, woven over a leather center, the tip has small peices of silver imbedded in it also, making it very deadly in the right hands.
I uncoil the whip, laying it on the beach for all to see, my hatred of any betrayer of the Hawke family building.
"My Captain, I wager this worthless scalliwag will take his plunge on the 9th stroke, IF HE'S MAN ENOUGH!" I reply, raising my voice at the end, making sure James would hear me.
"This is for betraying the Hawke Island Creed, you worthless scum" I address James, swinging the whip overhead, bringing it full circle, then snapping it in midair, the popping sound of it as loud as a musket, echoing down the now silent lagoon.
ONEThe blood thirsty crowd screams out, counting the blows) I lash out at James, the whip striking his chest and stomach, tearing the flesh , leaving a trail of blood, and his cry of pain.
TWO: I spin the whip overhead, James intently staring at it, his arms raised to protect his chest, and send it out again. The tips catch his left thigh, tearing it open, a large chunk of flesh hanging from it. James all most falls, then gathers himself and balances on his right leg.
THREE: I flip "the lady" back and forth, building speed and power as James begins to beg for mercy, and send it out again, hitting his bandaged covered hand, shredding it and his small finger as well, bringing another cry of agony from James, and a roar of approval from the sailors.
Four: I quickly spin "the lady" overhead, and send her back out, aiming high, the last foot of the whip striking James's face, dragging across his right cheek and eye as I "snap" the whip back to me, tearing his ear off.
Five: James has turned his back towards me and the crowd of blood hungry savages, bringing Boos and taunts of his cowardice. I step forward one pace and spin "the lady" out, the whip making a whistling sound as it travels forward and wraps itself around his back and chest, tearing a trail as it strikes, then a second trail as I yank hard, spinning him around, to face us again.
Six: I spin the whip overhead, bringing her to a howling crescendo, and lash outward, like an arrow, straight towards it's fleshy target, striking his testicles, maiming him. A howl of agony comes from James's lungs, to be heard over all the crowds taunts and cheers, as he bends over in pain.
Seven: James's back is exposed to me, as he bends over in agony and I take advantage of the fact, flipping the now blood covered whip outwards, in a long overhead swing, then snapping it down, across his spine and ass, leaving a track from his neck, down the middle of his back and between his ass cheeks, the metal tips striking his balls from behind.
Eight: As he jerks upright, his once young and flawless body now a ragged map of blood and torn flesh I send out "the lady" again, the whip "singing" as it speeds towards his face, hitting his right eye, nearly popping it from the socket, staggering him backwards, unbalancing him as he tries to stand on his good leg, begging for "no more".
Nine: I spin "the lady" overhead again, my massive chest muscles flexing as I increase her speed, the roar of the crowd suddenly silent, the only noises being James's sobs of agony and "the lady" as she howls thru the air.
"This is what happens to all who betray the Hawkes, and those they protect" I speak loudly, a warning to all present
The whip tears thru the air, wrapping her hand of death around James's throat, cutting of his sobs as I swing my arm backwards, returning her to me, as she releases her hold on his throat "The lady of death" does so viciously, ripping the flesh from James's throat and spinning him around, forcing him to lose his balance and fall forward into the deadly infested water.
I listen to the noise of the crowd, howling in their blood crazed euphoria, a party mood coming from them. I turn and bow to my Captain and look for his his approval, as I coil "the lady" into my hands, its blood and flesh covered surface slick in my hands.

OOC: hope this suffices...

 

[Clarrissa]

Clarrissa Morgan:

Clarrissa bellowed orders about,
"Look alive there, full sails, we need to outrun this tempest. You up to the lookout, keep a close watch for the reefs, won't be long before Hawke Island is in sight."

Turning around she sees Moninque coming from below, the remains of the ships purser in tow.

"Really Monique, your use of men is deplorable <weg> . . . putting a hole in a perfectly good purser he he. . .oh just lighten the load, throw out the trash if you will ".

"Check the hold, any dead go overboard now we need to lighten the load, anything not of value overboard NOW"

 

[sojournerwolf]

IC:
JEREMIAH HAWKE

The crowd goes wild and I am awed by the artistry of Black Bart and his whip. I clap him on the shoulder and add my huzzahs to that of the crowd.

"Well done!" I say with a grin. "You're an artist and for sure with that deadly strand! Let's see if we can't find you work for that great lash you carry between your legs as well!"

I lower my voice, "Aye, Black Bart, there never was a question but that Spanish dancing lass is yours 'til ye tire of her. I wish you great fun taming THAT bitch."

I turn to the crowd. "Let's hear it for Black Bart, the greatest master of whip and finest first mate of all Posiden's doman!"

The crowd roars its approval. Though they fear him, and rightly so, still their loyalty to Black Bart and their pride in him is second only to that of my sister and I.

"And now," I say as the noise abates, "to the feast that awaits us and the entertainments of the evening."

We troop back to the village square. I note the captives look more than a wee bit subdued now they have witnessed the true face of Hawke justice.

 

[Diamondnrough]

Diamond

I have witnessed the destruction of the traitor, Jame's a testament to the "Hawke justice" and the cruelty of the first mate, his soul indeed matches his name.
Still...I am somehow touched by the spectacle, the pain of the man before his end, reaches my groin, making me quiver. "What if I were in his place, receiving the taste of a smaller whip, what would I do?" I wonder, rubbing my groin, trying to hide the action by standing behind the sisters dress.
Captain Hawke has ordered us to the village square, and I gladly go, looking forward to our release and the tales I can tell my betrothed. I will remeber to thank the Captain for his treatment................

 

[BadForm]

Monique Papin: Sacrifice to Oya

OOC: Clarissa - all you'd described yourself as before is a crew member - given the commands you're giving, and the fact I picked first mate, is it ok to presume you are the boatswain? Ie officer in charge of hull etc, assistant officer for sailing, assists in command for boarding actions? If not, then please let me know your position and I'll edit this to match. Also, I'm guessing at our ship being a brig - if you want it to be otherwise, let me know. A brig is a moderate military vessel with good manouvering capabilities, and so could take on a galleon especially if backed up by another ship.


I came up on deck as the rocking sea grew more turbulent and thunder rolled through the rigging. We were heading for a storm, and that meant all hands on deck. I barely laced my top before heading through the hatch with the purser's corpse behind me. The boatswain, Clarissa, already had the crew working hard on tacking away from the storm. She scowled at me, condemning me for wasting the purser's life, but then she did not know what he had been planning.

I looked at the storm clouds which chased us. Already I could see a tail beginning to reach out of the clouds. Within the minute, a tornado would be on our tail. I knew why, and I was the only one who truly did. The great goddess Oya, the warrior woman of the gods and wielder of the tempest, knew of the treachery with which three men had plotted against their female captain. There was only one way to resolve this.

"Oui, Jack Smith, you must bring up any who are dead. Et le docteur aussi. And Jack, make speed. Toute vitesse!"

As the hapless traitor ran below deck, I headed to the prow of our brig and held my arms aloft. "Great Oya, grande dame de l'orage! Un moment, I beg. Soon you shall have your traitors. Soon,ma Goddess, les hommes shall be yours!"

Already Jack and the doctor had fought their way over the rocking ship towards me.

"None dead, ma'am, but many injured," spluttered Jack as he gasped for breath.

I spun around, my cutless coming out to meet his throat as I turned. His eyes opened wide in shock as his hands went to his severed windpipe. It was the last action he would make. I kicked him hard and sent him staggering overboard. Then I turned on the cowering doctor.

"I know your treachery, mon ami! Vous devez mourir! You must die!"

With that I took him in my strong arms, staggering as the ship rocked. "Ma Goddess, he is yours!" and I threw the skinny man as hard as I could into the waters.

At once the tornado touched down behind us. Yet it was far enough away to simply drive us on. I turned to the crew behind me who were raising and lowering sails in panic as lightning danced around. "Faster you bastards!" I yelled. "This storm will be our friends!"

Clarissa stared at me in confused anger, but she knew better than to argue in a storm. She barked orders at the rigging and the ship was thrust hard towards the isle. Then, as suddenly as it came, the tornado died. The storm still raged around us, but now it was one which could be handled by a crew as experienced as ours. Now it truly would guide us home. I staggered back to the helm and nearly collapsed against the rail. The call to Oya had taken much out of me.

 

[sojournerwolf]

IC:

JEREMIAH HAWKE

The storm that was brewing over the horizon has dissapated. One of the crew comes to me saying that sails have been spotted. I smile, for it surelyis Elizabeth coming home to the island. I look forward to them joining us at the feast.

Great tables groan with the weight of meats and fruits and vegetables and drink. The aromas are mouthwatering. I go to my seat with Black Bart taking his rightful place on my left, the chair for my sister to my right.

The captives are led to a smaller table in front of us and made to sit. Their chains are unfastened, though I trust not that Spaniard who continues to glare at me.

I gesture to the priest. "Father, would ye say grace ere we tuck into this sumptuous feast."

He begins to argue with me and I grow annoyed. Taking my dagger from my belt, I hurl it towards his table, It hits with a resounding thunk between his hands.

"Pray, priest," I roar. "For you may find it you last opportunity!"

He quietens and mumbles a quick prayer. I nod, satisfied. The young nun on whom I have my eye looks ill, but gives the young woman beside her a reassuring hug. I smile, wondering how the two of them might provide pleasant distraction later. The young woman has begun to intrigue me as well as the nun, for I noticed her attention at the earlier spectacle seemed more than a young woman's horrified interest.


We are served quickly and the crew digs in. I lean over to Black Bart and inquire, "I've a mind to provide some entertainment for our crew, old friend. Would ye be willing to have your Spanish dancer lead her troupe to favor us with a bit of dance ere you dance with her in private?"

I leave the choice to him, for she is his to do with as he pleases.

[Edited by sojournerwolf on 05-27-2001 at 12:03 PM]

 

[Kimberly]

I watch as Monique kills the two men on with a quick cut of her cutlass and the other she threw over-board. Will have to question her sometime but for now the storm becoming stronger as a tornado is seen comming from behind the ship lerches forward pushing us closer to the island and soon to our people. I cannot wait to see what my dear brother has brought me and I cannot wait to give him the gift I have for him. I go to the helm where Monique is clasped on the rail a crewmen yells "Land" being barely heard. I take the wheel to guide us in the port. Clarrissa telling the crew what to do.


"Monique, Are ye ok? We be on land soon!" I guide the ship to the port and see that my brother's ship is anchored and looks unloaded. "I see that he has started already"

 

[Ticklish Girl]

Sister Therese

A feast? How can they sit down to a feast after tearing a man to pieces? My body is numb with shock, yet somehow I manage to walk with the others to the village square and take a seat as ordered. The picture of poor James’ flayed body lingers in my mind’s eye, and my heart aches with pity for his suffering. I don’t care what he did – no one deserves a fate such as that! I say a silent prayer for the boy’s soul as I wipe away the tears that stream down my face. Never have I witnessed such brutality, such callousness. The savages of the islands we were going to visit could scarcely have been worse. This captain is not a man at all, but a demon. And his crewmembers are fiends let loose from the depths of Hell. My heart aches for Father as the cruel captain mockingly orders him to say grace, so soon after making a travesty of the rite of absolution. Everything must be perverted to this man’s whim, even the Holy Church.

I glance at the Spanish maiden. Her face betrays horror, but there is … something else. Some kind of fascination born of shock, no doubt. I hug her, trying to comfort her, but I have very little comfort to give. Food and drink are set before me, and even though I am sick I manage to force some of it down. I do not wish to attract undue notice from these brutes.

How could I have imagined that men such as these would be receptive to the Word? We have been horribly duped, and now we are trapped. I cannot escape the certainty that we have not yet seen the worst.

 

[SexyChele]

Maria Elena

I watch as that evil one whips the young man until he falls to his death. A knot of warning forms in my stomach that I can no longer ignore. I must find a way of escape. I look at where we are, and realize escape would be difficult if not impossible. I look with disgust on the crowd as they cheer this man who is a thief and murderer and realize there is little hope to find security among them. Their cries are those of fear, not of admiration.

I see now that the nuns are starting to realize what I had been telling them for past few days. I see them recoil in revulsion. I think there will be much more of that to come. These British bastards are cruel, inhuman animals!

We are lead to a table to eat and our chains are unfastened. I carefully scan where we sit, but see a guard at every avenue of possible escape. I eat very little, my appetite gone from watching that evil one kill a man in sight of all. At least my chains are undone....that affords me an opportunity for movement. But where? And how? I now realize that I cannot, even with my ability to flirt with a man to make him want to end his life for me before he receives a kiss, turn to a savior here. None will cross the one with the evil heart. I sit, proud, watching everyone...

[Edited by SexyChele on 05-27-2001 at 03:49 PM]

 

[BadForm]

Monique Papin: Out of the Storm

I look up into my captain's worried face. We have journeyed together a few years now, and still she worries when she sees the payment the gods accept for their assistance. She is English. She cannot truly understand the ways.

"Oui, ma capitaine, I am well."

I pause to catch my breath, and then stand, buttoning my doublet to cover my ebon cleavage. "Capitaine, I am sorry. These men. They betray you. It angered Oya, the warrior goddess of storm. Mais maintenant... I have returned them to her hellish embrace. Now she guide us to shore. To 'arbor. Where your brother, he wait for us."

I stand proud and strong once more, having recovered from the ordeal. However, I know the payment is not complete. And the fear, the excitement, is I do not know what Oya will demand of me to balance our account.

[Edited by BadForm on 06-01-2001 at 01:42 PM]

 

[sojournerwolf]

JEREMIAH HAWKE

I watch with amusement as the captives force themselves to eat and drink, for indeed I kept provisions sparse upon the ship for them. Their pain I savor. Yet, even as I watch, I note the disillusion in their eyes is joined by something else. Even the French priest is beginning to cast covert glances at the scantily clad women who bring him more to eat. Only the Spanish noble seems immune, though that is I suspect because in his arrogance, he has refused to partake of our food and drink. Well, hunger and thirst are my allies, and he will give in soon enough.

I smile thinly. The potion Monique has supplied us is doing its work well. I have ordered it put into the drink of our captives, knowing that the dark desires of the crew need no such enhancement. For the captives, soon, the petty conventionality of their lives, their bland morality will be at war with such surges of lust and desire as they have never known before.

Already, the women are beginning to fan themselves, loosen their clothing a bit when they think no one can see. Even the nuns are squirming on their hard wooden benches. And the one on whom I have had my eye is fingering her rosary with such a fierceness and abandon I find myself growing hard thinking of those same fingers working over my flesh.

The young woman beside her, ah...her hands have disappeared below the table. Her succulent flesh gleams with a faint sheen of perspiration. Which to have first, I wonder.

 

[MtnAngelWV]

Amanda Lancaster

The doors to my hell Have been open to reveal a blinding wite light. How long could I have been in here not to recgonize that the beam was sunlight pouring into this dreadful place. I watch as the prisoners close their pitiful eyes, cowering against the wood eddifice. "Createns," I silently remark.My posture becomes even more erect thrusting my bosom forward as I inhale the fresh air rushing into this hovel. I notice the reason these peasants are cowering. I silhoutte of a man appears in the doorway. as he decends the steps I realize that this is no man. She was tall, stout woman whose miseries were reflected in her face. She was wearing an eyepatch and sported a large sacr upon her cheek.

As she barked out orders to us, she dragged the unwilling prisoners up the stairs and onto the deck. Their screams of mercy had no affect on this woman. She neared me and glared into my eyes. "Wench," I say, deeming her to be nothing more than a servant "If you knew my bredding you surely never would have forced me to endure such deplorable condition. I happen to be Amanda Lancaster. Direct decendent of Bedford T. Lancaster of Edmonton. I wish to speak to your Captain this very instant."

Her face became enflamed with rage as she grabbed me by the arm and hurled me upon the steps. Who in the hell did this wench think she was? I thought to myself. But I quickly regained my composure and stood erect on the step.

 

[SexyChele]

Maria Elena

What is this?? I suddenly feel warm...very warm. And a tingling building in that most sensitive part of me. I'm feeling little light-headed as well.

I pick up my cup to drink, while glancing around the table. I notice only the other captives are sweating...and some are even squirming. I look at the contents of the cup, and then I dare to look at the captain. That evil grin on his face. I smell the contents of my cup.....there sems to be a distinct, though not unpleasant odor. Poison? No, that is not what he plans for us. Feeling my own body craving the desire for a man's hands, I realize that there is some sort of aphrodisiac contained within this cup! Is it too late to stop the effects that I can alrady feel on my body?

Glaring at both the captain and the evil one next to him, my temper flares for having them try this cheap little trick on us. Daring retribution, I stand suddenly, catching the eye of both the captain and his evil first mate. I lift my cup to them as if in salute, with a beguiling smile on my face. I then lean over and spit in the cup, and hurl it in the direction of one of the guards! I take my seat, glaring at them once more. No, I will not drink their swill poisoned with some strange potion!

 

[sojournerwolf]

Jeremiah Hawke

I laugh uproariously at the temper displayed by the Spanish dancer. By Jove, that one has spirit! She might even make a fine addition to the crew, if she can keep it after Black Bart has used her and grown bored with her.

I lean over to Black Bart and nudge him. I can see the amusement in his own eyes over the fire of his lust.

"Methinks the lady does not care so much for our fine drink. Perhaps you might be willing to let her dance for us and work up a thirst?"

 

[sojournerwolf]

Still plenty of room for more characters here!

OOC: This story is going well, I think. I have been thoroughly enjoying watching the interplay here on the island and on Elizabeth's ship. STILL ROOM FOR MORE TO JOIN US, as crew, captives or whatever.

 

[THEBRAT]

OOC
Could I play an excaped prisoner from a previous voyage.I'm a Spanish Princess my name is Inez age 20 long black hair & very dark eyes.



IC

I just hope that Hawke doesn't see me at the very back of the crowd. I excaped once but it would be impossible to excape twice.It is not possible they have captured my Brother that I love more than life itself.I have missed the naughty games that we used to get up to.I would like to use that whip on BLACK BART he is more insane than the Spanish royal family.I'm also an expert with the whip & knives.

 

[sojournerwolf]

OOC: Welcome aboard, THEBRAT! *G* Your character adds an interesting twist.

 

[THEBRAT]

IC
I need to think of away to get my Brother out of Hawkes & BLACK BARTS hands without them knowing it.Very good Brother you haven't eaten or drank there special food & wine.

It just might be the time for a little distraction that Spanish Dancer just might turn the tides in my favor.I've been waiting for something like this.

There is something very familar about Hawke it's not that I was his prisoner but I can't remeber it is like a for of amnesia.

 

[Inkubus]

Carlos De La Vega

OOC*****Sorry I had to work a double and missed posting for a couple days, the thread really took off, If someone has My char prisoner or has already chosen something for my char let me know Email or Aol IM

IC****
Carlos tried to find himself in the haze of pain that had become his existence. They continued to reopen his scars, and they scourged him regularly. They only left him alone long enough to heal and then they beat him again. He pondered to himself ..if this was to break his spirit they were doing a pretty good job. Every once in a while he thought he heard voices...haggling ,argueing decisions being made, he wondered if he had become someones property...he wondered if he cared.

 

[THEBRAT]

IC

I've got to scuttle Hawkes ship so that they have only 1 ship to use.But for this I will need Carlos De La Vega and my Brother.It doesn't matter that at one time I was British but I'm very proud to be Spanish.Let Hawke try and figure out how I now what he's going to do before he does himself.

My distraction is working I knew that BLACK BART would some day fall prey to an Assasin especially if it wears skirts.

 

[Ticklish Girl]

Sister Therese

The roasted meat smells good and tastes even better, and as the interminable feast progresses I find my appetite slowly returning. The ghastly image of James’ flogging gradually recedes from my mind, and with it go my nausea and sick stomach. A grim kind of pragmatism has taken hold of me. I can do nothing to help the poor lad now, and therefore I must forget about him. I must eat enough to keep my strength, for instinct tells me that I will need it. I drain my cup and immediately a scantily clad woman appears to refill it. She gives me a knowing leer as she pours the drink, and when I murmur a thank you she winks and then waggles her tongue at me before sauntering off to serve someone else. Beside me Sister Claudine hisses, “Brazen slut.” But she is careful to keep her voice down. Wise move. Any word or act might cause them to retaliate against us.

When my second cup is three-quarters empty I suddenly begin to feel very warm. At first I dismiss it. I am used to a certain amount of discomfort from my heavy habit and wimple, and we are in a hot climate now. But after a few moments I realize that this is a different kind of heat. It is a strange, languid feeling that slowly spreads over my entire body. And it is not uncomfortable at all. In fact, it feels…pleasant. It is like slipping into a soothing warm bath. I glance around the table and see that many of my fellow captives seem to be feeling the same heat. Every face is flushed, and every chest rises and falls a little more quickly than before. Some people are fanning themselves, while others seem to be in great discomfort as they squirm on their benches. Father looks as though he is about to faint dead away. How strange.

The heat spreads all through my system, but it seems to be centered in my belly. It’s quite strong down there, in fact. I can feel it throbbing like a second heartbeat. My breathing quickens, and I shift position on the hard wooden bench. The slight movement seems to awaken something inside me. All at once I feel a tingle between my thighs. It’s maddening, like an itch that I cannot scratch – but suddenly the thought occurs to me that I can scratch the itch if I want to. All I need to do is slip my hand between my legs, right where the itch is centered, and rub it. Oh yes, and rub it and rub it … Such a strange thought, a thought I have never had before, it makes me squeeze my thighs together tightly. I have been taught that that region of my body is filthy, sinful, the cause of man’s downfall from the Garden of Eden – but how can a place that feels so good be evil?

Surely I could discreetly scratch my itch below the table without attracting too much notice. My hand begins to wander off the table, heading for my lap. It seems to have a will of its own. I watch its progress with great interest and mounting anticipation. As it edges closer, the throbbing, tingling feeling increases, becomes nearly unbearable.

“Sister Therese!” The harsh voice of Sister Claudine cuts through my mental fog, making me gasp and flinch. I turn to her, knowing that I have done something wrong, but what? The stern older nun’s face is the color of brick, and she is breathing heavily. “Control yourself,” she says, her voice low but carrying an unmistakable note of command. “I know it is difficult. I am having the same…experience as you. But you must not give in to those feelings.”

I am about to answer when the Spanish dancer suddenly stands and lifts her cup. At first it seems as though she is about to make a toast to the captain and his first mate – which would be an odd reversal indeed, considering that she tried to warn the rest of us that they were not what they seemed to be. (If only we had listened!) But then she spits in the cup and throws it away with great force before resuming her seat. Her lovely face is set in a harsh expression of defiance. I cringe, simultaneously awed and horrified by her boldness. If I live to be a thousand years old, I will never have that kind of courage. The captain, however, only appears amused.

“Sister Therese, pay attention!” Sister Claudine hisses at me. I turn back to her, confused now, but still yearning – for what, I do not precisely know. In a harsh whisper she continues, “Do not touch another drop of that drink! The fiends have poisoned it with some sort of drug that arouses lascivious feelings. We have all been affected. They will try to make us break our vows of chastity. You are especially vulnerable because you are the youngest. They will press you the hardest, but you must resist them, no matter what they do to you. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Sister,” I murmur.

Sister Claudine gives me a look of tenderness that touches me deeply. “You must pray, my child. Call on the Blessed Virgin and all the saints in heaven to help you. Say the rosary over and over until the feelings go away. But you must resist, even to the point of death. You must not let these British dogs ravage you. Promise me that you won’t let it happen!”

“I – promise, Sister.” Quickly I take out my rosary beads and begin to pray fervently under Sister Claudine’s approving gaze. I am terrified now, yet that secret place between my legs still throbs so insistently that I fear I will not be able to keep my promise, no matter how much I pray.

 

[Kimberly]

The Lady Hawke

The Lady Hawke arrives and She orders that the anchor to be dropped and that the unloading of the prisoners and loot be done shortly afterwards. She looks to Monique and listens to her words of betrayal and that the storm god was angered by that. She just nods not fully understanding. "Monique, Thank thee and thy goddess for getting us out of the storm and the quickness of the justice for one that will betray me. You will be rewarded." She turns to see if the gangway has been put into place. She see that it has and the the crew has started to make the male prisoners to unload the gold, the 25 barrels of wine, and the crew has started to assemble the women. She start to walk for the gangway.

OOC: If anyone has ICQ please feel free add me my number is 102552274. Just tell me that you know me from this.

sojournerwolf, Please add me to your ICQ I want to talk about the description of JEREMIAH, and ELIZABETH.