An hour is not a long time. Unless, of course, you happen to be naked, hanging upside
down, and in the hands of bloodthirsty pirates. Then it was a very long time. Monique
moaned each time the wind twisted her body around and as the pain in her ankles increased.
Her body was young and could take the rough treatment, but it was not pleasant. She
tried to pass the time by observing and trying to plan what she would do when she was
taken down. She deliberately twisted so that she could see in all directions, but only
empty sea met her gaze. Jumping overboard was not going to get her anywhere.
By the time she was lowered to the deck and the ropes taken from her hands, Monique
Hutton was ready to promise anything and do anything to keep them from torturing her more.
She calculated that she had been in this body only a couple of hours and had four to go
before the computer would bring her back to her own time. All she had to do was to hold
out until them.
They led her into the captain's cabin with her hands still bound behind her back.
She tossed her long blonde hair from her face and stared at him in a way she hoped would
look very submissive. He seemed to expect her to make the first move, so she did.
“Captain,” she began, “could we talk alone?”
The captain must have been thinking the same thing because he grinned from ear to ear and
ordered the crew out of his cabin. “Well, m'lady? What is it you have to say to me
in private?”
Monique, hating herself for what she was about to do, stepped up to him, swaying her hips
in what she hoped was a seductive manner. “Captain, it's driving me crazy being
naked in front of all those men.” She spoke in as husky a voice as she could manage. It
sounded comical to her but the captain seemed to accept it.
“Driving you crazy? Strange words, but I believe I catch your drift. Perhaps it's
been a long time since you've had a real man ram his shaft up your tunnel.”
“A very long time,” she breathed, almost choking on the words. She pressed her breasts
against the front of his shirt and tried to ignore the bad breath.
The captain, not a man to waste words or time, tossed his captive wench on the bed and
removed his clothes in such haste that he tore some of them. As Monique lay on the
unkempt bed, her bound hands under her, she hoped this was worth the sacrifice. While she
had been hanging there, she had considered the possibilities. There seemed to be only
two: either she refused to cooperate and would be tortured her more, or she would try to
cooperate and fail to produce the proper letter. They might even come to the conclusion
that she was not the daughter of a famous and wealthy man, and heaven only knew what would
happen to her then. A third possibility occurred to her. If she could stall for time,
she only had to wait three hours or so and the TDT would pull her out of this crazy world.
But what would make a pirate forget about the ransom note? What would make any man
forget about anything? Sex! As much as she hated doing it, she was going to have to use
the womanly charms of this host body to make the captain more interested in other things.
Her fear that he might be queer like some of the crew was put to rest when the last of
his clothes disappeared into a pile at the end of his bed and his rigid rod proclaimed his
interest. Monique tried to smile as she did the most incredible thing this conservative,
scholarly prude had ever done - she spread her legs in invitation.
This is no way for a respectable PhD to act, she said to herself. But it might save her
life. Or, at least, save her from more pirate torture.
The captain mounted his bunk between the open thighs and began what can only be described
as a cruelly performed and rather uneducated screwing of the maiden. He smelled terrible
and grunted like an animal as he pumped away. Monique could feel the body she inhabited
respond to the rough sexual invasion, but before she could really get going, the captain
had shot his load and was withdrawing from enemy territory.
Well, Monique told herself, that had been good for all of five minute's delay. She
was not an overly experienced woman, but at least the few men she had gone to bed with had
taken their time with the sex act and most had tried to make sure she enjoyed it. This
pirate was an animal.
When she opened her eyes, it was to find the captain with his clothes on, or most of
them, standing there with his hand upon the shoulder of a big, dirty crewman in torn cream
colored pants. “Michael Flynn,” he said loudly, “it has been said that you had the
biggest dong in all of the King's navy.”
“Right you are, Captain. Before I became a pirate, that is.”
“Well, Flynn, me boy, let's drag that thing out and see what it can do to tame a
bitch of royal blood.”
Michael Flynn may not have had the largest penis in the whole of the Royal Navy, but he
certainly had whoever was in first place worried. The thing he released from his pants
was monstrous, and Monique gaped when she saw it. Then she gasped as the idea hit home
that she was about to be impaled on a thing obviously far too large for any girl to take.
She began crawling backwards until the wall stopped her.
She protested, but it did no good. The pirate, cheered on by as many crewmen as could
fit into the cabin, mounted the bed and dragged Monique back to the middle where there
awaited a mission impossible.
| 
