National Rum Day Celebration

Today is National Rum Day In honor of this, Sir has decreed that we will be playing Pirate Ship. I am to dress in 18th century underclothing and a simple dress.  Sir drives us to the marina where he keeps his yacht. He has apparently already “hired” a “swabby” to assist – his friend MisterAs far as I can tell, these are the most historically accurate, well-fitted reproduction undergarments that I have ever seen.  Clearly, this woman is a genius.  And a perfectionist.  Emphasis on the genius.  Before the Automobile: 1780's stays Adrian. As soon as we step foot on the yacht Adrian grabs me by the arms and drags me to the Captains quarters where Sir – Captain – dresses in his Pirate’s costume. 

“You will serve me in all ways,” he barks.

I bow my head and beg him to be gentle.

“That’s not my way,” he informs me. “Get rid of the dress.”

Mister Adrian pulls the dress over my head. I stand there in my linen chemise and corset laced so tightly I cannot bend at the waist.

“Thank Mister Adrian, wench. Suck his cock.”

I balk at this (although I’m wet as can be, I know my role!). The Captain pushes me against the wall, lifts my chemise and paddles my ass with his hand.

“You will do as I say without question.”

I kneel and suck Mister Adrian’s cock. This is not the first time, nor will it be the last. The Captain holds my head, pushing it up and down so that I have trouble breathing. I damn near come right then! Mister Adrian’s cock swells and soon I am rewarded with his come shooting down my throat. A small trickle runs down my chin.

“Mister Adrian, set sail. You, wench, stay put. Do Not Move.”

I remain kneeling on the Captain’s floor and feel the yacht sail out on Lake Superior. Eventually, I get tired and sit back on my heels. Not a moment later, Captain stomps in, frowns, and ties my wrists together in front of me.

He drags upstairs and ties me to the railing, forcing me to bend at the hips.

“Your first offence, wench, was wasting some of Mr. Adrian’s come. Your second offence was sitting back when I told you not to move. On this ship, you will follow orders. Here. Take a swig before your punishment begins.”

He held a horn of rum to my lips and tipped it. I drank it all.

He grabbed my chemise and ripped it in half, exposing my rear and slit.

“Twenty lashes.”

Down came his flogger twenty times. I was a wet, soggy mess when he finished, both my face and my puss. I was begging for mercy, begging for relief from my needs, begging for Him! My ass was on fire, but my body was an inferno.

“You’ll take what I give you and be grateful!” the Captain stated.

And I was. He impaled my body on his cock fucking me hard and fast, without regard to my pleasure, only to his, which, naturally, gave me a great deal of pleasure! I came, losing myself to the glory of Him. He fucked and slapped my ass. I screamed and came again. He, blessed be, joined me, but pulled out and sprayed his seed across my abused rear.

Once finished, he helped me sit, my wrists still tied to the railing. He stood over me, his cock before my face and dripping. I opened my mouth for him.

He laughed and allowed me to clean him, which I hungrily did.

The rest of the day I was the Captain’s Captive. His sex Slave. Best National Rum Day ever.

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