Date: Sat, 28 Aug 2004 22:15:26 -0700 (PDT) From: Glinda Goodwitch Subject: Desires of Rebecca Ch. 9 Transcribed by Glinda Goodwitch gaspar50@yahoo.com The Desires of Rebecca (F/F F/f f/f rom) by Olivia Ravensworth This chapter is transitional and isn't as lusty as previous ones, but neverteheless here it is. I love hearing from readers who have comments or suggestions about the story. What do you think should happen at the end? With whom should our heroine, Rebecca, live happily ever after? Do you have ideas/fantasies on sexual encounters the characters should experience, that were not included in the story? Write me at: gaspar50@yahoo.com Chapter Nine My situation worsened when we took our first prize of the voyage. Oh, I cheered as eagerly as the rest when sail was sighted though the spyglass, but it was in happy ignorance-I knew not yet what my new profession truly meant. The Captain gave the command, and the good Sappho began to track the unsuspecting galleon. The wind was with us, making the sturdy canvas billow out proudly above the rolling deck, yet despite the sudden rush of activity, our prey was still leagues off. Hurry though we might, we could make the gusts blow no stronger. We closed in with frustrating slowness through most of the morn, riding the wind which our quarry tacked. Flushed and impatient, the Captain left Smith in command for a few hours and led me below to our cabin. The sight of our prey had fired her blood, and the imperious woman needed her release. So excited was she that as soon as she had closed the door behind her, she spun me around and in her agitation veritably tore my rough sea clothes off. She lashed my hands behind me in the leathern wristcuffs of my naughty harness and with a great heave of her long biceps threw me bodily up into our hammock. I swayed there, wide-eyed as she stripped herself quickly and reached for the swelling ivory rod of the double-ended Tusk of Delight. I bit my lip as my lover, groaning, slid one end of the thick curving dildo deep between the auburn-fringed portals to her shapely body. Hurriedly, she drew the narrow leather straps about her sleek hips and down between the creamy handfuls of her buttocks and fastened the brass straps with a jerk. The pink-brown buds of my erect nipples tingled delightfully in anticipation. Breathing deep, I parted my thighs and smelled the wet musk of my excitement Then my strong Captain leapt up into the hammock. Green eyes blazing with lust, she dug her thumbs into my puffy labia and, smiling, entered me swiftly, penetrating me to the very core of my being in a shockingly smooth thrust that ripped my breath away. I cried out in joy as she lay her long white body down across mine, heavy breasts flattening against my high young ones, and fucked me urgently. Oh, we both needed it. Hands secured tight behind my narrow back, I gasped with each thrust that her swelling hips pounded into my welcoming cunt. As she filled me so demandingly, her hands roamed my flesh possessively, fondling my aching breasts, cupping my shoulders and running down my trembling sides to my quaking hips and back again. I kissed her desperately in return, lips reaching for her mouth, her ears, her neck and shoulders, tasting the faint salty sheen of her excited sweat. Her flaming red hair cascaded beautifully about her wild, flushed face like a mad halo, and I struggled to keep my heavy-lidded eyes upon her. Mind reeling, I climaxed helplessly. But that was only the beginning. As finally her breathing slowed and the Captain at long last removed the slippery dildo from her majestic body, she rolled over and stretched. She drew up her knees, and I scented the strong tang of her wet cunt. Not bothering to loosen my hands, she lay her tired head back comfortably against the thick, brocaded pillows and whispered, "Taste me, Rebecca. Bathe me with your tongue." Gratefully I complied. It was a long morning.... Finally, her mighty appetites sated, the Captain led me back up on deck I looked around, blinking in the bright sunlight. The crew was eager, and as the long chase progressed we all labored to busy ourselves as best we could, readying our ship ... and filling the time, whose unused surplus otherwise could have led to boredom and unwatchfulness, and even nagging doubts. My crewmates immersed themselves in their duties, apparently wondering naught at the outcome of the impending encounter. They seemed not to fear attacking the larger and more heavily armed adversary, thinking not of failure or maiming or death. They set themselves stolidly to work, placing faith in our Captain, our swift ship, and our weapons. Whereas the rest all had specific tasks assigned, I did not. I was the newcomer, the pet-and, because of the various lessons I was daily taught-something of a jack of all trades. As a consequence, at my mistress's leave, I left the poop and bustled about wherever an extra hand was needed. As gradually we overtook our prey, I climbed aloft to help set the sails and maintain the rigging, I carried water to the gunners who readied their cannon, and I distributed swords and muskets and pistols for the melee which we all knew would come. Wherever I went my fellows smiled and clapped me upon the back, and I could not help smiling in return. Of course I was the darling of the ship-I was young and beautiful, already well used to the appreciative stares of women. Yet the simple acceptance I experienced that day seemed a homelier but more important thing. My heart swelled with happy pride at the way my crewmates-volatile wenches though they were-accepted me not merely as the Captain's shapely toy, a tempting ornament to be endlessly craved and most cautiously flirted with, but as a useful member of our company. Silly thing that I was, I basked in their acceptance. The round-bellied Spaniard ship, ridiculously ornate yet heavily gunned, may have been the larger vessel, but her very size was her downfall. By the time her commander could be certain of our intentions, we were closing fast. I hurried back to my impetuous Captain just as she gave the order which unleashed our opening broadside. The sound nigh on deafened me and sent our deck reeling with the recoil-but the fierce iron balls of our guns tore straight into our bulky opponent, holing pretty hull and tearing mast and sail alike. With the trusty Smith herself at the helm, the Captain shouted orders with unflinching aplomb, her beautiful chestnut mane blowing about her cruel, desirable face. I stayed close to this powerful woman's side, my fingertips light upon the hem of her great green coat as our nimble bark heeled hard over and we danced smartly about the more sluggish vessel while the Spaniard crew struggled to retrain their guns and return fire. The wind sang in the tautened hemp of our rigging as the sails drew us along through the turbulent salt spray. Our gunners reloaded and fired at will, and the enemy guns boomed back. The Spaniards could not get as steady a shot at our fast-maneuvering little vessel as we could at their broad-beamed fortress of oak which wallowed vulnerable before us. They were fearsomely armed, however, and from that brass forest which bristled their swollen sides, there erupted a furious cannonade. The flash of powder flickered ominously behind a growing pall of smoke, and despite the agility of the Sappho, I could not help cringing at the sight. Though countless cannonballs went wild, we scarce could avoid being struck by some of the enemy's red-hot iron. Amidst the din of pounding cannon and shrieking shot came the crack and crash of splintered timber. Suddenly I saw one of our gun crews disabled, two or three stalwart wenches felled by flying chunks of splintered wood. Yet we dared not let any gun rest silent! Without thinking, I left my mistress's side to help the pair that remained. I hunched myself down with the others and heaved to. Soon my shoulders and arms ached with the exertion of the heavy lifting, mine ears rang painfully, mine eyes stung with smoke, and my nostrils were inundated with the sharp stench of gunpowder. Yet in the din of battle I labored joyfully. This, I thought, was what it meant to be alive! We were not wife-slaves or charwomen or nuns-we were free and proud, capable women who roamed the seas, taking our plunder from the swaggerers who looted a continent! My heart hammered within my sweating chest as the roaring cannon leapt back against the straining tackle which checked its recoil, again and again, and we reloaded the smoky brass muzzle endlessly. The battle raged on, but at long last we silenced the enemy's guns, and with a cheer we hove alongside, oak grinding upon oak At the Captain's order we rushed to the rail with our firearms, and, kneeling behind the gunwales, worked furiously with our powder and ammunition and awkward tamping rods. For several minutes we traded murderous volleys of pistol and musket fire. A blazing ball grazed mine arm, and for a moment I scarcely felt the sting-I looked down at the tatter in my sleeve and wondered blankly at it. Only much later did I realize how easily I might have lost that arm. I fired wildly at the steel-girded targets hunched upon the enemy deck, but I doubt that I myself struck anything but insensate wood. Yet my crewmates must have fared better. Despite the apparent disadvantage of numbers, we actually gave better than we received, for many of the Spaniard complement already must have been killed or wounded. Just as we had decimated their gun crews to the extent that they could no longer return fire, so it was with their musketry. The enemy fell back, and as they fled to more easily defensible positions, we fired at their scurrying backs. The Captain herself jumped gallantly upon the rail, sword held high as we dropped our firearms and drew our blades. Her green eyes flashed beneath those savage smoky brows, and her glowing hair streamed out behind her. Entranced, I would have followed her anywhere, and I knew that my lusty shipmates felt the same. With blood-curdling yells we swarmed aboard. The Spanish dead and wounded lay all around, but still there were live conquistadores aplenty. I had thought they were fleeing, but it seemed they were merely regrouping for a counterattack. Once they saw that our musketry had ceased, they rallied, charging back out of hiding. Almost as soon as I had jumped on deck, a great bearded soldier in gleaming cuirass and peaked helm came at me, and for a moment I could only retreat under his attack. Steel rang as I parried the slash, and my sinews shook as I fought to turn aside his powerful blow. As I struggled with the brute, I never even saw his face, for after the initial shock my sight was fixed upon his hand. Smith had taught me well that the eyes could be misleading and that the point of the sword moved too quickly to follow-it was the hand to watch, the hand which must angle the weapon as it is brought to bear. I met his attacks, gasping as I struggled to hold my position and perhaps even regain the initiative. As I blocked his sword again and again, my confidence grew. Once I had steadied myself, I began to test the man for weaknesses. He was stronger than myself, certainly, and taller-which meant he had a longer reach. But he was also heavier and, burdened by his armor, slower still. If I were to do more than simply turn and flee, I would need to keep my wits about me and use my lighter build and swifter response to advantage. Sensing an opportunity, I met his attack and parried furiously. As my blade turned his aside and my supple wrist swirled my steel back in at him, I did indeed slip through his guard-but my sword clanged uselessly off his armor I blocked a sudden thrust, then I danced in again, but my aim was thrown off as he stepped aside, and rather than slipping in under the arm, my point glanced once more off his armored chest. We sparred like that for exhausting minutes, back and forth, testing, now advancing, now retreating. Finally I was able to beat his blade down and lunge swiftly in, pinking him about the knee and recovering before he could counterattack He staggered but did not go down. The knee can be a vital spot, but the contact was a comparative nick. It would take more. Combat raged aside of me, and I had to spare a fleeting glance as three of my comrades drove a pair of Spaniards dangerously close behind me. I narrowly missed a pike in the back, but, even more importantly, my guard had wavered, and it was only with luck that I saw the blade flash, and it was only with the most awkward jump that I avoided a deadly blow from the man before me. I grimaced at my opponent, trying to hold my ground. My breath was tight, and the flesh above my heart felt perilously thin. One well-placed thrust would run me through, one good blow cut me open-but I dared not turn away from this armored monster. Even if I wanted to escape, I realized now, I could not do it. Slower though he was, with his longer reach he could spear me before I could pivot away. My only escape lay in victory. Desperately I feinted him aside, and as he angled his weapon to meet the supposed attack, I reversed my motion and slipped in again. With elbow, wrist, and point carefully in line I lunged, deep upon my bent knee, and with a beautifully straight thrust struck into the heavy flesh of the upper thigh. I recovered and sprang back as his blade swished sickeningly close over my head, near enough to ruffle my sweat-matted hair. I glanced swiftly down at my opponent's unprotected leg, now slicked with blood. The wound was shallow, but it would hamper him. Once again blind to all but his sword hand, the hand whose skill would determine one of our lives, I tried not to blink He was seasoned and tough-but I had tasted blood. I vowed silently that I would not die. And I would not relent. Rallying, I forced the beast back. He was slowed by the wounds in his leg, and I hacked at him mercilessly, my blade sometimes ringing off his crested helmet or breastplate as I tried unsuccessfully for the target between. Sometimes I managed to nick an arm or a leg. His reactions were slowing, and at last I knocked his sword aside, and with a tight circling of my wrist, triumphantly brought the point of my cutlass a handspan deep into his exposed throat. I saw his face then-ghastly white, his lips twisted in pain and terror above the greasy bristles of his beard-as the bright blood spurted from the mortal wound in his throat and welled up in his mouth. I gagged, and for an instant I shall never forget, I froze, staring into his doomed, agonized eyes. Then, cringing, I forced the blade home and pulled the steel back out with a sickly sucking noise. Shaking, I turned away as he fell, and I staggered after the sound of fighting. That had not been pleasant, I realized, stumbling hurriedly over scorched debris and bloodied bodies toward the desperate battle which raged upon the high, crenelated poopdeck. It was one thing to fence with a crewmate on a jolly afternoon ... yet quite another to fight for one's life, and to kill a stranger. He would have killed me, I knew, just as easily, with fewer qualms-but the Sappho had attacked the Spaniards first. He fought in self-defense, whereas we fought merely for pride-and for profit. Yet as I considered it, truly the Spaniards' motives seemed no cleaner. Why were they swarming across the face of the globe, if not for glory and profit? They had their empire and their subject peoples-surely they treated those unfortunates as we treated the conquistadores, if not worse. Gold and silver were the Spaniards' only concern, and from what I had heard they were little interested in how much savagery was required for their acquisition. The Indians may have had their strutting emperors and kings, their swilling nobles and self-righteous priests, their downtrodden millions, yet the Spaniards certainly were no Robin Hoods. They cared not from whom they stole and looted, how many villages they razed, how many slaves they worked to death in plantations and mines from the isles of the sunny Caribbean to the wide plains of New Spain and the crags of the Andes. The so-called savages of the New World had asked for no such treatment, while the Spaniards with their arrogance and greed perhaps had. It made sense in a grim sort of way. I had not enjoyed making that man die-swaggering brute though he was-yet his death, I realized, probably should not trouble me so. Those glorified looters lived by the sword, and it was no surprise that they might perish by it as well. And when they realized that the wild freebooters who attacked them were not men like themselves but women-I laughed out loud, unsteadily, as I thought of it. By the time I reached the stern, the battle had been won-and just as well, for I was too shaken to have taken on another opponent. As I climbed up, I saw my comrades disarming the remaining Spaniards and binding them with ropes. Numbly I joined my shipmates, trying to make myself meet the hateful black eyes of the vanquished. Foolish males! thought I. Had these vain conquistadores thought they were invulnerable? I found myself sneering into the faces of those who looted a continent. Perhaps their wife-slaves were back at home tending their dreary little hovels-but we fierce women had defeated the strutting male might. My heart swelled with pride. My beautiful Captain strode imperiously about, directing the securing of the enemy ship. I followed her, triumphant yet strangely shaken, staying close to the comforting sweep of her flowing green greatcoat as she commanded the ransacking of the pretty floating castle we had bested. It was a moment before she noticed my presence. Yet upon seeing me she grinned fiercely down and swept her arm possessively about my quaking middle. Hurrying to match her heroic strides, I felt her strong hand fondle my hip almost absently. Though I could not forget that by the end of the evening most likely she would be half-dead with drink, still helplessly I craved her touch. The Captain left Smith in charge aboard the enemy vessel, and we two returned to the Sappho. I stood at the railing high up on the poopdeck, watching as our exulting crew scurried about the defeated Spaniard like voracious ants over some fresh carcass. Despite my joy at our victory, my brush with death and the strange mixture of emotions it had thrust upon me now and then still made me shiver. My hands tingled unpleasantly. My blood felt sluggish and cold. The Captain stood silently behind me, looking over my shoulder at the gutted wreck which was her handiwork. Her unsteady breath was close to mine ear as her palms traveled familiarly over the clinging curves of my sweat-soaked clothing. My nipples stood up cold and stiff beneath chill cotton, and I bit my lip. Demanding though the Captain was, her sense of privacy-based on her iron pride, certainly, rather than on any squeamishness-usually kept her from displaying her affections before the rest of the crew too readily. Yet the battle apparently had fired her blood. While she feigned aloofness, soon her passions flared hot and urgent. What began as merely a pretty toying grew ever more demonstrative. From grasping almost aimlessly at my hips and buttocks, my stem lover took to fondling the leather-caged breasts which trembled under the cool fabric of my sea blouse. I shivered as she touched me, making my pulse respond. I looked anxiously down at the foredeck, yet I saw that I need not have bothered. While we were in plain view of all, our faithful crew-drunkards, lechers, and murderers though they were-studiously ignored the wanton display. Their respect-and fear-of our Captain kept them from doing more than sneaking the occasional fleeting glimpse. Then that shameless woman began slipping her frank hands beneath the folds of my garments. I blushed as she clutched hungrily at my resilient young bosom, naked beneath her palms but for the flattering strips of the naughty leathern undergarment with which she had commanded my young flesh be girded. Those knowing fingers plucked with exquisite skill at responsive rosy buds already achingly erect before sliding teasingly down my fluttering belly and into my trousers. I parted my thighs, and hoped wordlessly that our shipmates were secretly watching.. The Captain scratched her nails through the tangle beneath my belly, the fragrant garden whose ready moistures slicked the supple strips of leather which nestled there. She massaged my hips and squeezed the rounded cheeks of mine arse. Then, shuddering in her need, she grasped my clothing roughly and commenced to tear it to shreds, flinging the torn pieces aside one by one. I bit my lip, naughtily aroused as she bared me before all. Naked then but for my brief garment of leather-that ever-present symbol of my utter subjection to that imperious woman's every whim-I spared another glance down at the rest of the crew. Many paused in their work, gazing longingly upward at the unexpected spectacle, haunted by its wanton beauty despite their cautious avoidance of the volatile Captain. My warming flesh felt the welcome heat of their hungry eyes, and I could not help letting my feet move farther apart on the deck. As I did, I felt the tension of my slave's harness pull open the swollen lips of my cunny. It felt good. I leaned forward, hands upon the rail, naked leather-caged breasts hanging over the sea, my bottom thrust out. I knew how alluring I must have looked, and I posed for her, and for them, unashamedly whorish. My clitty throbbed restlessly. As the last few members of our raiding party returned with their booty-eyes wide at the spectacle above them -I felt the Captain's nimble fingers slide down the crease of my buttocks. Trembling in her anticipation, she reached forward to find my naughty quim helplessly wet I arched my back as she reached in to where my intimate harness of salty leather had opened me up, and I could not help smiling as she pushed her commanding digits within my welcoming body. She slicked herself on my juices, then withdrew slightly so that she might grasp playfully at the clitoris which pulsed, naked and exposed, between my gaping labia. My breath caught in my throat as she stroked with studied carelessness at the very seat of my desires. Yet, smiling secretly, I sensed her urgency. She could scarcely restrain herself. It was a wondrous joy to be treated so, and to be on display before our lusty crew But the Captain, I knew, would require more than this mere dalliance. Soon, I knew; soon we would have to retire below. I craved the dirty intimacies to which she would subject me, yet I wished that somehow I might remain before the inflaming stares of the others. Their gazes traveled appreciatively over my nude flesh, as arousing as any hands. Eyes half-lidded, I rotated my head to see the crew trying to busy themselves on the deck below. Though they played at a respectful disinterest, now and then their gazes chanced to sweep across the wanton display above-they simply could not help it. It was a naughty treat to be enjoyed thus, my fresh young body displayed before all, flushed with arousal. I looked absently down at the studiously busy figures below, women who could not keep themselves from glancing back enviously. The crew carried booty below decks, cleared the littered deck, worked at the lines of our rigging. Yet no one, I realized dimly, returned to the other ship. Despite my mounting pleasure, suddenly I could not help but wonder what was to become of our prisoners and the enemy ship itself. The vessel was abandoned, except for the Spaniards, who remained bound and gagged. "Captain," I husked unsteadily, "what is to become of our prey?" "Watch," commanded my mistress, and I could hear the crooked smile upon her crimson lips. Panting at her wickedly knowledgeable ministrations, I struggled to obey her strange command, and keep mine eyes open. Her fingers grasped directly at my clit, and my breath caught in my throat She kneaded that sensitized morsel of meat carefully, gently squeezing the slippery pink flesh out from between her fingertips, then circling her digits around to torture the tremulous nubbin again. She repeated the motions wickedly, squeezing deliciously and yet coyly releasing before my joys might mount too rapidly. She stimulated me powerfully, but she refused to let my pleasures achieve that culmination which she made me crave. I longed for her to take me below, to throw me into her broad hammock and have her way with my willing flesh.... My mouth worked soundlessly. And suddenly a muffled explosion tore the belly out of the enemy ship before me. I straightened convulsively, mine eyes wide. Our crew cheered wildly, and I watched in shock, instantly white-faced and cold, as the round bellied Spaniard ship with many a sickening creak and groan broke in two. The lost souls still aboard-bound helplessly-thrashed in madness as the shattered pieces of the wreck shuddered and turned over, rolling them beneath the waves. The two halves of the ship hesitated for a heart-stopping moment, then they filled immediately with water-and bore those doomed men with terrible swiftness deep into the briny black grave of the sea. Great gouts of bubbles rose to the surface, making the flotsam dance. The blood stopped in my veins. Yes, they were merely swaggering Spanish plunderers, but to kill the wretches outright, after they had been defeated... Heart leaden, I spun around. The Captain smiled fixedly at me, her eyes gleaming with wild lust. "Let us go below, Rebecca," she whispered. >From then on my life grew ever more difficult. I took no joy in our plundering, and whenever we captured some unlucky Spanish vessel, I tried to keep myself from the action as much as possible. I could not stand the thought that in swarming aboard some ship with my hard-eyed mates around me, I might be compelled to kill again. Already I was tortured by the thought of the Spaniard whom I myself had killed. I could not undo what I had done in that first battle, but I vowed that I would not let it happen again. A quick death in battle, of course, would have freed me from my living. Hell, but I knew all too well now that death rarely came with such a merciful swiftness. I simply had not the terrible courage to accept the lingering death from a gangrenous limb or a belly riddled with musket balls. No, if I were not to die in such endless agony, it was better that I simply keep myself out of the action as much as possible. Rather than charge in the fore, I elected to remain behind with the others who kept the Sappho adequately crewed while the rest boarded the enemy. I watched, ashen-faced, as my wild comrades looted the Spaniards with as much wickedness as the conquistadores themselves possessed within their vile hearts. And when at the end of each battle our terrible Captain ordered the destruction of the hapless Spaniards, I could not help cringing. Most likely the swaggering pillagers of a continent deserved some awful punishment-but surely our own crew was little better. What they did to those Spaniards I would not wish on the lowest of creatures. I tried to content myself that at least their deaths were not by my hands, but still my dreams were haunted. And nightly I forced myself to submit to the Captain's often-drunken caresses. Though I had come to hate the beautiful woman, I could not deny the natural desires of my healthy young flesh. She was a pirate, a glorified cutthroat, yet my natural sensibilities made me crave the taste of her copious juices upon my hungry tongue. I pleasured her helplessly, hating myself for it, yet unable to free myself from this murderer-and unable to keep my betraying face from wallowing mindlessly in the welcoming folds of her furry red-haired cunt. I was loath to please her, but I could not help myself. And when she finally condescended to fuck me with the Tusk of Delight, I could scarcely stop my voice from responding with unfeigned screams of ecstasy. Though I tried to keep myself from enjoying the attentions of the monstrous woman, my body simply would not let me spurn such natural joys. I attempted to remember my hatred of her, my resentment that the heartless fiend gained pleasure by my supple white flesh-but it was to little avail. As I lay beneath her in the swaying hammock, nipples burning at the attentions of her hands and mouth, I could not help reveling in the glorious abundance of sensation. I despised the Captain utterly, but my ravenous cunt knew no conscience or shame. Despite my unwillingness, when that commanding woman parted my thighs, the velvety lips of my watering cunt opened of their own volition, inviting her to the very depths of my womanhood. The great sliding rod of swelling ivory pinned me to the sweaty silk sheets of her padded hammock with a pleasure I could scarcely deny. Night after night my whorish flesh throbbed with the shuddering liquid joys of the unwelcome climaxes she forced upon me. I gasped out my love for her-and shamefacedly repented of it when my passions had cooled. It seemed that nothing could deliver me. Yet, finally, from one ship, our boarding party chanced to bring back a most unusual prisoner. I was desultorily clearing the decks of the sometimes dangerous splinters of wood with which the brief battle had littered them when among the bales and crates and barrels our busy crew trundled, there was escorted a most striking young Spanish noblewoman. I approached quietly as Smith brought the captive to our Captain. The girl was slim and dark, slightly shorter than myself, and apparently a little younger as well. She was clothed in an expensive gown of yellow satin, which generously revealed the rounded tops of the dusky mounds of her high bosom while it flattered the narrowness of her flat waist, before swelling out upon ripe youthful hips. The lovely garment's stiff, heavy hem almost brushed the deck as she walked. I could not help but watch this exotic creature. The girl's smooth visage was like some strange dusky china, delicate and beautiful with a pretty V-shaped chin and prominent cheekbones upon which the skin glowed with a rosy gleam. Her lips were lusciously full, rounded with the delicious pout whose apparent petulance often seems equally promising of the longed-for submission. Her nose was narrow, and turned up slightly. Great liquid black eyes smoldered beneath the beautifully dense arches of her eyebrows. Those orbs-I caught my breath as I looked into them. The eyes framed so exquisitely by her heavy curling lashes were fathomless, mysterious. If I tumbled into those wells, I imagined, I might fall forever, endlessly. Yet despite the danger, somehow I longed for the fall, that I might plumb this comely maiden's inviting depths. The luxuriant waves of the girl's ebony hair were pulled back tightly, yet though those glossy handfuls were pinned in a prim bun, the gay yellow ribbons which bedecked the virginal mound hinted at the ease with which they might be freed. She was bewitching yet how much more so, I imagined, she would be when those dense cascades of hair were loosed. Her very tresses-exuberant and only scarcely restrained-seemed to me an apt symbol of her blossoming young womanhood. Her hair was wondrously dense, and I fancied that somehow it was indicative of some inherent strength of physicality. She was not yet a timid housewife or cloistered nun, a frail creature made frailer still by the enervating dictates of men, limbs weakened and eyes dulled below unruly frizzled strands leached of their very vitality. Her elegant brows were as dense as the fur of her scalp, and from where I stood I noticed that the shapely swells of her bared forearms were covered with a similarly dense growth of hair, downy and delightfully feminine. Unasked, my naughty mind raced on ahead of me, wondering at how gloriously thick might be the fragrant tangles of her other growth of hair. I blushed fiercely and looked quickly around, but no had noticed the betraying change in mine expression-all eyes were fixed upon the prisoner. "Who art thou?" asked the Captain finally "What can thy business be on that stinking tub?" "My name," replied the girl softly, "is Gabriela Maria Dominguez de Velez y Aragon." She gave a faint bow. "I come to New Spain to be married." Her English was surprisingly clear, but the accent which caressed it was enchanting. I watched the girl's full lips cup the words as she spoke. The Captain shook her head in wry disbelief. "That such a maid as thou would cross the seas for the-the love of some damned man..." "Never have I met my betrothed," the other returned. Her pretty brows arched ever so slightly, a resigned little shrug. "Yet I do as my parents wish. The nobleman, he is well placed, and l cannot but obey." She bit the plum of her lower lip and looked around anxiously at the cutthroats who surrounded her. When her eyes swept forlornly across me, I tried to smile back at the poor thing. My heart ached with sisterly sympathy for her plight ... yet that heart also made the blood pound strangely in my veins. I licked my suddenly dry lips and let mine eyes measure her again.... "Well...," said the Captain quietly. "Perhaps the Spaniard would pay for the return of his pretty new slave." Her eyes gleamed with avarice-and, I imagined, some emotion more physical. Yet the creature before us obviously was not the born bawd I had been. Already I could tell that she was sadly unaccustomed to the love of another female. This was not the kind of girl with which the Captain, imperious though she was, could simply have her way, and surely the Captain recognized it also. Most likely this maid, her young mind helplessly channeled by prudish parents and society, would recoil at the mere suggestion. Why, even to teach this blushing innocent to kiss properly would take time-I bit my lip as I thought of it. "Aye," mused the Captain, "those fools would gladly pay heaps of their gold and silver for such a morsel as this." She nodded in grim satisfaction. "Take her below," she commanded shortly. "Lock her in the cabin across from mine." The Captain left me in charge of our captive Gabriela, for I was of course the crew member least occupied with other duties. Perhaps she considered me the most trustworthy of her vile band as well, imagining me so deep within her thrall that I would scarcely think of betraying her in even the slightest-for this was how I scrupulously comported myself. The Captain, blinded by her own image of herself as some all-powerful goddess, never suspected me of any treachery. Ah, foolish, vain woman!