Last Edited – 5/2/19

After the horrors she’d suffered in the belly of this ship, Celia had thought she could not find any worse humiliation – but after the ship took in more than two dozen new prisoners, she was quickly learning that her humiliation knew no bounds.

She had been here longer than any of the other girls, so most of the men were into the “fresh meat,” as they called their new victims, it wasn’t much of a consolation to her. It just meant that the ones that paid her attention either wanted to degrade her more than they would be able to their new merchandise, or else they had a particular, violent hatred of the Empire to take out on her. She didn’t resist any of their demands – Celia knew well by now that resistance would just inspire more people to use her, and more harshly – but even her compliance didn’t seem to please the pirates. Their urges to beat her were as frequent as their need to fuck her. Each beating, each rape, served only to further destroy Celia’s hope for the future. She hadn’t even seen the sky in a month.

The only thing that kept her going was stubbornness, and Eliana. She silently clung to the hope that her lover had escaped, that she had made it through the storm – that she was free. That hope, combined with a stubborn refusal to let the pirates see her destroyed, allowed Celia to hold onto a small sliver of who she really was beneath the bruises and the cum and the spit and piss – but with each passing day, it grew more difficult to remember.

Even worse than her own prolonged torment was being forced to watch the abuse of the other girls. Most of them had completely snapped already as far as Celia could tell. The pirates were relentless, cruel, and inventive in their games. Tera, one of the pirates that had been tossed down here, was the worst off. She seemed almost comatose most of the time, but it didn’t stop them for continuing to rape her over and over, further breaking the already broken girl’s shattered mind. The woman might have been a pirate, and she should be put on trial for that, but she didn’t deserve this. Neither did Elizabeth, the other pirate kept down in the hold. She didn’t resist either, but at least there was still life in her eyes.

Day after day, Celia saw dozens of girls being taken by the pirates, raping them repeatedly one after the other. Watching them get fucked. Raudur was terrible enough, but the rest of the crew was as brutal as he could be, and she doubted a single pirate went to sleep before taking daily pleasure in the body of at least one of the captive girls. They were merchandise to the men and playthings, and Celia had to watch it all as they were used.

The hard slap across the blonde’s cheek stung badly, but it had become so familiar that not even a single tear broke free from her eyes. “Stop daydreaming, whore,” one of the pirates growled before taking hold of Celia’s hair and yanking her head down to his crotch. She found him hard, as these pigs always were. She opened her mouth and allowed the pirate to pull her head onto his erection. Even the bitter taste of his unwashed member no longer caused her sinuses to burn. She sucked hard on his cock, lifting her hands to stroke his shaft and play with his balls. The actions were automatic, all part of her trained routine… it was hard to remember that not too long enough, she had never seen a man naked, and certainly never considered laying with one.

Any semblance of subtle talent Celia’s mouth could have attempted was lost as the pirate gripped her head tighter and slammed his way down her throat. Even after prolonged practice, she still gagged when he began his brutal deep throating thrusts. Saliva burst from her stretched lips and ran down her chin, but she was trained well enough to keep her teeth from clamping down. She’d only made the mistake of letting her teeth clip a cock once, and the beating that the pirate, one they called “The Butcher,” had given her had nearly left her dead. Even as she’d been healing, the pirates hadn’t left her alone, fucking her just as hard as ever. Her ribs still ached, and she was certain they hadn’t healed properly.

Celia did her best to apply as much suction as she could as the pirate’s cock slid in and out of her mouth. She knew it was her job to please him, that escape was not an option, and that the rest of her life would be spent as a lowly whore. Celia had no delusions of happiness or freedom, not anymore. She’d survive as long as the pirate’s enjoyed her body. As soon as they grew sick of her, if she grew older and less pretty, or a pirate went too far and disfigured her, they would dispose of her – most likely in an unpleasant way. Still, she worried about the other girls more than herself.

The others were in the same position she was, but even worse – they were new, fresh, and interesting. Every one of them could end their lives at any second. It wouldn’t even have to be intentional – while the men thought of these women as merchandise to be sold, they were used so roughly that Celia feared that one of them might accidentally kill a girl in the midst of one of her rapes. The virgins among them weren’t spared, either… if anything, it might be even worse for them, since it just meant more rapes in their asses.

Butcher yanked Celia’s head back from his crotch. His cock popped free of her lips, her spit shining on the shaft and connecting her to its head in a web of disgusting strands in the second before he gave her a shove forward, onto hands and knees. Celia pushed herself up, but she wasn’t as strong and durable as she had been before her captivity… she strained to push herself up, and it wasn’t fast enough to satisfy the pirate. Celia cried out despite herself as he shoved her ass with his boot, flinging her to land heavily on her face and breasts.

“Get up,” Butcher growled. He followed after the fallen Celia, giving her another swift kick right between the legs. Celia howled out her agony. The throbbing of her bruised cunt was enough to make her weep, even through her efforts not to. Was this the beast that was going to kill her? Were these the kicks that would break her hips finally, and leave her helpless and useless on the floor?

Butcher dragged her back to her feet and pushed her towards the pole of the mainmast where it came through the crew’s cabin. She didn’t resist as Butcher tied her hands to the pole. She’d been tied there before so that some of the pirates could beat and rape her in full view of everyone – but more to the point, so she could see everyone else. Celia could see dozens of women from where she was tied up. That didn’t surprise her at all – Raudur had been the one to discover that making her watch Eliana be raped bothered her more than suffering it herself. She doubted most of the other pirates were bright enough or empathetic enough to get why, but they still followed the method, loving how it made her cry.

From here, he could see mothers being raped with their daughters, sister’s being fucked alongside one another. Weeping, hurting women being abused over and over. Her eyes fixated on Tera… the Waterwitch lay flat on her back, legs spread wide for the pirate perched over top of her. From the angle she was at, Celia could see the thick cock stretching the broken girl’s cunt walls open, slamming into her slick hole over and over. Tera’s head was arched back, her mouth hanging open wide as she cried out and clutched her rough lover’s buttocks. Her eyes were locked open, staring into the cloudy sky. Celia could see no sign of intelligence or conscious thought in those eyes anymore… nothing sweet, nothing vicious, not even alive. Sometimes Celia wondered if she would eventually wind up just like her… her mind completely fucked out of her. She prayed that if that was going to be her fate, she died first.

Tera’s mouth hung open as the pirate fucking her pulled free of her wet snatch and fired his thick load across her belly and onto her sweaty tits. When the pirate finished squeezing the last of his seed onto her stomach, he moved aside and let another take his place. The new pirate flipped Tera onto her stomach and lifted her hips up from the ground, angling his thick cock down between the cheeks of her plump ass. The moan that escaped Tera’s lips was a soft, pathetic thing… she didn’t even struggle as the pirate’s thick girth forced the walls of her ass apart.

Celia tried to look away from the broken witch as she was raped in her ass, but Butcher gripped her chin firmly and forced her to keep watching. His other hand went down to her crotch, shoving two of his thick fingers into the sensitive folds of her cunt. Celia winced as he plunged his digits into her… her pussy wasn’t entirely dry. She hated that her body reacted to the touch of the men even a little, hated every second of them touching her, but what she hated most was that she was grateful for anything to make her suffering more tolerable. Tera had clearly given into exactly that mindset completely.

I don’t want to be like her, Celia thought gloomily, even as her pussy dampened further from Butcher’s probing fingers. The cruel pirate laughed into her ear. “We’ve fucked the dyke right out of you, haven’t we?” he growled. “Your cunt is eager to be fed, isn’t it? Unfortunately for you, I’m not interested in indulging you, slut.” His fingers slipped free of her wet hole and a moment later blinding agony shot through Celia as Butcher pinched down hard on her clit. She cried out, and now her body was instinctively trying to pull away. With her wrists tied to the mast pole, she didn’t make it far, and as she looked up into Butcher’s angered face, she knew she’d earned herself another beating.

The men not waiting to rape one of the victims gathered around to watch as Butcher retrieved his bullwhip… everyone loved watching the bosun work over a bitch. She couldn’t help the screams of pain as the whip lashed against her still toned flesh, drawing thick red welts across her body. His precision with the whip was precise and terrible, easily cracking the thin tip of it against her nipples. In the stifling heat of the crew quarters and overwhelmed with pain, Celia’s body quickly became drenched with sweat. She could hear men’s grunts and women’s moans blending with her screams as she was beaten. Celia squeezed her eyes shut and tried to force herself to black out from the pain, but her strength and resolve were greater than she would like – she remained fully conscious and fully aware of each sharp snap of the whip against her body.

By the time the beating ended, every inch of Celia’s body throbbed, and she hung limply from the ropes binding her to the pole… and only then did Butcher approach once again with his thick prick. It seemed as if his cock had lost none of its rigidity during the whipping – If anything, his dick seemed to have grown larger. Celia hoped that was just her weary mind playing tricks on her. Dropping his bullwhip to the ground, the pirate officer stepped up to her welted form, reaching down to take hold of her thighs. He lifted her legs up, causing Celia to wince as he stretched her nearly in half as he brought her ankles up to rest against his shoulders.

The tip of Butcher’s cock dragged across Celia’s moist cunt lips before touching against her asshole. The blonde marine cried out as he brutally impaled her ass on his thick member. Her hands shifted against the wooden pole as he fucked her, gaining a few scrapes and splinters along the way. Her ass clenched on him despite her efforts to just let this happen, squeezing him in a hopeless attempt to resist that did little but bring him further pleasure inside her abused body. His stubbly cheeks brushed against one of her swollen nipples before he clamped his teeth around the nub. Celia whimpered despite her best efforts not to give him the satisfaction, and the big pirate drove her ass down onto his thrusting hips again and again, obviously eager to fill her ass with his seed.

She wasn’t sure how long he raped her for… these days, most of her misery just blended together. It took one of the pirates actively trying to hurt her – whipping her, twisting her nipples, burning her flesh – to make it stand out. Simply ‘accidentally’ hurting her by taking the vicious lusts out of her body didn’t hurt as badly as watching the others suffer. Celia knew that was wrong… it was like when a wound went numb. It meant that the damage was worse than she thought, that she wasn’t too far from being dead inside like the other girls… but what else could she do? There was no one she could help, nothing she could do that would assist someone…

One of the girls being raped was bleeding… from her pussy. A virgin? Curious…

Butcher let out a loud bellow and slammed his way fully into Celia’s ass. His thick cock jerked and spat warm spunk deep into her bowels. The brutal bosun pulled his spent member free of Celia’s stretched asshole and offered the bound marine a final backhanded slap across her face that split her lip. “Worthless Empire cow,” he spat. “Going to leave you tied up like this until you actually start being able to please me, so I suggest you start thinking of a way…”

As the brawny pirate walked away, Celia turned her face to the side again, weeping as she watched the other girls suffer and knowing she could do nothing to help them… but her eyes fixated on the recently raped virgin, bright red contrasting against the creamy sperm leaking from her ravaged cunt. Maybe…


Raudur stepped down the stairs, taking each one with finality. He was furious, but trying not to show it… letting his control slip would be bad. The crew was behind him, for now, but they had just recently overthrown one captain… he needed to solidify his control, making it unthinkable to go against him, or else Damara’s fate might seem kind compared to what waited for him.

Someone had stolen from him.

They had arrived as Samarcos this morning… a particular rabble-pit of an island. Virtually lawless, it was nevertheless fairly rich – known as a free port, pirates found places to sell their wares here all the time. Speaking with Wogim, the two of them had agreed that this was probably the best place to sell his slaves – immoral enough not to care about unwilling sex slaves, rich enough to afford them, and in the right place to put them to use immediately. It appeared that they had been right about that… but when he checked his stock this morning, he had come up a little short. He was supposed to have eight virgins. Now he had seven.

The pretty brunette would still fetch a good price, probably, but she would have fetched a truly staggering one as a fresh, untouched virgin “bride” for some rich outlaw lord. Someone had stolen that money from him, and the crew, by putting his cock where it didn’t belong. Problem was, no one seemed to see it that way. Raudur needed to convince them and to show them that it wouldn’t be tolerated, but he couldn’t afford to punish the wrong man – resentment and independence among his crew was already incredibly high. Punishing the wrong man could cause him a serious problem. Punishing no one, however, was unacceptable – it made him look weak.

So he was left with one option.

Below decks, the ship was nearly abandoned – most of the crew was on liberty, and with the vast majority of the slaves already unloaded there wasn’t much to protect. The only captives below were the ones they were keeping. Damara was chained up on his bed, in his quarters upstairs. Tera was gone, ready to be sold… the woman was thoroughly broken. Rashet assured him that a captive, slave water-witch would sell for as much or more than any two or three of the virgins. He would have sold Elizabeth too, but according to Rashet, she wasn’t ready yet… there was still too much will in the woman.

Waterwitches were almost priceless, especially to pirates and smugglers, those that had to avoid the main shipping lanes and often had to flee through unfamiliar waters. For merchant shippers, someone with barely any talent was sufficient – all they really needed a waterwitch to do was disguise the passing of a ship, make it a little less noticeable. Merchants followed the charted courses, where Leviathans rarely went too close to, but those shipping lanes were patrolled by the Navy. Someone like Raudur wanted the prey on that shipping lane, but he couldn’t sail it himself without being noticed by one of the Empire’s frigates… so he needed to lurk elsewhere, off the main lines, ready to swoop in on the ships as they moved through shallower waters.

And when you sailed through a Leviathan’s territory, having a barely competent waterwitch was not an option. A pirate’s ship didn’t need to be hard for a Leviathan to notice – it needed to be impossible. The creatures were intensely territorial, and they would consider a ship another large predator in their hunting ground. Their eyesight wasn’t amazing, as Raudur understood it, but they could hear the crash of waves breaking on a ship more than a mile away, even straight down. If they detected an intruder, they wouldn’t stop until they had destroyed it utterly, so the waterwitches needed to slide the water around the ship, smooth its wake, stop the turbulent crash of the swells against the hull… or die.

Rashet was one of the best he had ever seen – he had only met a pair of others in his life that were capable of keeping up the effort while sleeping – but even so, a ship really needed more than one waterwitch if they weren’t going to dock to let their protection sleep from time to time. Rashet’s sleep was fitful, but as much as he wanted another to serve beneath him, Tera was too weak for him. He thought he still might be able to turn Elizabeth into something useful, so soon Raudur would be passing her over to him for exclusive use.

That left only one girl down here.

Raudur had considered selling Celia – an Imperial Officer would by definition bring a fairly high price just because of the ransom she would demand. Anyone who returned her to an Imperial Outpost could expect to be paid, no questions asked… so long as you trusted Imperial honor, anyway. That created a baseline price for her that was nearly as high as the waterwitch, even before you took into consideration that there were a lot of pirates here that had run afoul of the Empire’s marines before, and would love to take it out on the pretty slut.

In the end, though… he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was still annoyed he hadn’t gotten his fight with her, and if the Navy ever caught up with him, he might be able to use her as a bargaining chip. And… there was something about her that interested him. A strength that none of the other women had, a strength of both body and mind.

He found Celia tied to the central mast, in the center of the crew cabin. The woman was a mess, covered in bruises and welts, her skin smeared with dirt and filth and dried blood. Several of her wounds were angry red and swollen, probably infected… he’d have to have Grogspar look at her.

For all of that, when she raised her head, her blue eyes were clear, focused, defiant. “Changed your mind about selling me?” she asked. Her voice wasn’t as strong or clear as it once was, but not for lack of will – it seemed her throat was raw and agonized.

Raudur paused. The look on her face… she had been expecting this. She knew. Slowly, the pirate captain smiled. “I knew I could count on you,” Raudur said. “You saw, didn’t you? Which one was it?”

Celia looked away. “What are you going to do with him?”

Raudur shrugged. “He’s a thief. He stole from the crew. He’ll face the keel.”

The blonde winced. “I didn’t see who.”

The captain laughed. “You’re a liar, Celia… and not a good one. You saw. Tell me who it was.”

Celia looked up, meeting Raudur’s eyes. “I won’t tell you.”

The smile faded a bit from Raudur’s face as he knelt, looking into her eyes. “Yes, you will,” he promised. “I’ll make you if I have to flay your skin to loosen your lips.”

To his surprise, Celia nodded in agreement. “Probably,” she whispered. “I won’t hold out forever… but then, I don’t need to, do I?” She smiled at up him. “How tentative is your rule here, Raudur? How long can you afford to go without making your example? How weak can you afford to look, trying and failing for weeks to make me talk?” Her eyes glittered. “And even then, could you really trust my answer? What would happen if I gave you the wrong name? You would need to be sure, very, very sure, that I was screaming the right name to make you stop… that would take more time that you don’t have. You might have taken away my sword Raudur, but I can kill you with my silence just the same.”

Raudur wanted to hit her. To begin whipping her. To shove his cock into her the most painful way he could think of. But he didn’t… he forced himself to calm down, to think. She was right… she did have power over him right now. The more he looked at her, though… the most he became sure she wasn’t defiant. She was… bargaining.

“You want me to ransom you?” he asked. “Fine. Done’ Tell me his name.”

Celia narrowed her blue eyes at him. “You’re a bad liar, Raudur.”

Raudur narrowed his own eyes. He really wasn’t… he was a master at it. “I give you my word,” he said.

“Your word is worthless,” Celia laughed. “And you are never going to let me go. E both know that.”

Raudur chuckled and shrugged. “Fair enough. If I let you go, you’d just come right back after me. Revenge… that’s a sad life with a sad end. I’m too merciful to subject you to that.” He grinned. “What do you want then?”

“Untie me,” Celia demanded. “No more cuffs, no more ropes. Let me walk free on your ship.”

Raudur laughed her joke before he took in the look on her face. She wasn’t mocking him further… he actually expected him to do it. “How big of a fool do you think I am?” the pirate asked. “I won’t sell you, so you think I’ll give you leave to try and escape again?”

“I won’t,” Celia said, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. “As an office of the Imperial Marines, I offer you my parole, captain. I will not take up a weapon against your men, nor try to leave this ship without your leave.”

He looked at her, honestly confused. “You refuse to take my word, but expect me to accept yours?” He wasn’t sure what to make of the strange blonde officer.

“Of the two of us, which has behaved honorably?” she asked. “Who has committed mutiny, and taken hostages and they betrayed his promise to release them?” She glared at Raudur. “My word is good. Your’s is not.”

Raudur shook his head in disbelief. “And how does this get you to trusting me to keep my word?” He asked. “What is to stop me from taking your name, and tying you up again afterward?”

“Because unlike releasing me,” Celia answered, “This costs you nothing. You might need my eyes again, might need what I know, and if you betray me you’ll never get it… and you win my continued willingness to cooperate with you by accepting my parole.”

He couldn’t help it – Raudur laughed. He was hard… unbelievably so. There was something deeply attractive about this woman to him right now… her strength, her self-assurance. He had just finished with Damara barely a half hour ago, and already he wanted Celia… but no. The woman was too disgusting at the moment to be worth fucking. “Very well,” he said at last, still chuckling. “I accept… but know that if you escape from my ship, you can rest assured that I’ll be killing every captive I have on the ship.” He stopped laughing as he met her eyes seriously. “That you can trust.”

“That’s not necessary!” Celia protested.

“And yet, I promise it to you,” he said coldly. “I take your word… but should you disappoint, know that there will be consequences. I know you care about others more than yourself. It’s what makes you weak.” He met her eyes, narrowing his own. “Test me, and their lives will be on our conscience.”

Then he took out a knife and cut the ropes tying her to the mast. “I accept your offer,” Raudur promised. “Who was it?”

Celia began rubbing at her wrists. “Caine,” she said simply. She looked left and right around the room. “Now… where can I find a damn washbasin?”


“Heave! Heave! Heave!”

The sale of his cargo had gone better than Raudur had dared to hope… his raid on the small Imperial colony had proved one of the most lucrative raids he had ever been on. When he included the gold he had gotten for Tera, it had gone from profitable to incredibly so. It got him thinking about where he could find more waterwitches… their talents were rare, but not that rare. Plenty of people had to live on islands where he could get to them with the talents… most of which probably had no idea of their gifts. He needed to think about ways to find them, train them, and sell them.

“Heave! Heave! Heave!”

Of course, not everything had gone perfectly. The girl Caine had raped sold for less than half of what she would have. Raudur had averaged what he got for the other virgins, subtracted the cost of what he got for her, and was left with a depressing difference. Caine needed to answer for that… and once the crew was made to understand how much gold he had cost them, they were only all too willing to put him through the punishment.

“Heave! Heave! Heave!”

For most minor offenses, disciplinary lapses and such, the usual punishment was a lashing. A sailor would be lashed to the mainmast and whipped, generally by the Bosun. It was done before the crew because the lesson was only partially for the man being punished – it was also a warning for the rest. Theft was something else, however. Pirates were thieves, but they didn’t steal from one another. It was one of the worst things you could do on a ship full of thieves. Trust was hard to come by, and any violations of it were dealt with harshly.

“Heave! Heave! Heave!”

For more serious crimes, the punishment was to be keelhauled. A rope was wound beneath the ship in a circle, and the man to be punished was tied to that rope. Then the other sailors would grab onto the rope and use it to pull the man beneath the ship and back up, scraping him against the ships hull and keel the whole way. It wasn’t technically an execution – if the sailor survived, he had served his punishment and was forgiven his crime – but the blood loss and risk of drowning generally made it a likely death sentence… when you were hauled around once.

“Heave! Heave! Heave!”

Thievery, however, was the most severe crime you could commit on a ship short of murder or a failed mutiny. For that, Caine was being keel hauled three times, and no one survived that.

“Heave… and LIFT!” Butcher yelled, pulling Caine back onto the deck. The pirate looked like ground meat… the barnacles had slashed his chest and face to ribbons. His lips were cut at least a half dozen times, both eyes were crusted shut with blood so thick Raudur couldn’t tell if they were still there, and he had been stripped naked by the sharp edges beneath the surface… but he was coughing up water from his lungs.

Raudur shook his head in amazement. He was still alive. “Tough bastard,” Raudur admitted, grinning as he shrugged. “Get him to Grogspar. He lives, he’ll have learned his lesson.” Raudur looked over at the castle, and found Celia crouched against the railing… watching. Most of his crew had reacted in shock to the orders they weren’t to bind her anymore, that she was permitted to walk freely. As far as Raudur was concerned, if a group of horny pirates needed ropes or cuffs to hold down the battered marine who hadn’t had enough to eat in months, they didn’t deserve to fuck her.

Still… there were in port. She could have tried to escape over the side. He didn’t even really have any captives to execute at the moment, just Elizabeth and Damara – and both of them were pirates who had been part of capturing her in the first place, not innocents. Still, she stayed on the ship.

This was a test for Raudur, as well – he was curious if he could trust her word. Celia was a fascinating creature.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a call from one of the pirates on the rail. He walked over, seeing what the looked was shouting about – three men waiting at the bottom of the boarding plank for his ship. Raudur had never seen any of the three men before. His thoughts immediately went to thinking of authorities, but that was foolish – this was Samarcos, and the only authority here were the merchants, and he had just made them money with his sales.

So what the hell did they want?

Raudur twirled two fingers, and four pirates, lead by Baldeg, fell into step behind him. Together, they walked down to meet the intruders. “State your business,” Raudur demanded, one hand on the hilt of his sword, the other on his pistol. He didn’t draw either of them, however… his stance was belligerent, but not threatening.

“I am San Leras,” the man in the center said. He wore a red jacket and spoke with a North Seas accent. “These are my friends, Revis and Greet. You made a great deal of money today, Captain of the Banshee’s Wail… but that ship doesn’t fly your flag.” He gazed up at the mast, which was flying a black flag openly, here in Samarcos. “We’re here for our cut.”

Raudur tilted his head. “Your cut?”

San Leras grinned. “Surely you haven’t forgotten whom you serve, Captain. You sail beneath Keira’s aegis, and she will have what is due to her. I’ve come to collect her tithe.”

Pirate Queen Kiera’s cut had always been 20%. Raudur laughed in his face. “Kiera?” he spat. “Kiera’s fleet is obliterated, her port ashes and dust, her power vanished. Kiera doesn’t rule these waters anymore.”

The Northener’s eyes narrowed. “You are very much mistaken, Captain… and I would hate for you to live to regret it. Pay your queen what you owe.”

Raudur drew his sword. Behind him, the other four pirates did the same. On the ship, Raudur could hear another half dozen weapons be drawn. “If Keira still thinks she rules me, let her come try to collect her tithe.” He spat at him. “I do not serve her any longer.”

San Leras looked furious, but he slowly backed away with his two guards. “As you wish, Captain. On your own head be it…”

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