The rowing boat rocked through the dark waters, packed with the rancid bodies of overly curious pirates. The particularly ugly specimen opposite Letitia was staring at her with his tiny porcine eyes and grinning menacingly, revealing a mouthful of rotten teeth. She was suddenly glad she was covered by a voluminous linen shirt and she moved closer to Hanson who gently held one end of her restraints against his muscular thigh. He was dressed in a naval officer's frock coat, no doubt purloined from some poor victim, the gold brocade shining in the moonlight, one of the epaulettes torn and hanging of his shoulder, the linen shirt underneath undone, revealing the bare brown muscles of his chest. His shiny blonde hair was tied back with a red ribbon and he looked dissolute but also ridiculously dashing, especially against the hideous examples of manhood surrounding him. The Captain was at the other end of the boat, the broad silhouette of his shoulders outlined against the waves, his dark blue gaze fixed on the line of torches that ringed the edge of the island ahead of them, his tattoo glowing green and purple in the moonlight as he turned his head.
The Captain nimbly leapt from the boat, onto the sandy shore and strode towards the huge burly figure who was barreling towards him, flaming torch in his massive fist.
"The Black Orchid as I live and breathe!" the bear-like man boomed in an Irish brogue, his vast beard twitching, all its intricate plaits leaping in the fiery light like little snakes. "And to what do we owe this great honour?" he laughed, clapping his fist onto the Captain's shoulder. But as he leant into him all Letitia could hear was the word 'information' as the Captain slung his arm around the big man's shoulders and their words were lost to the night wind. In a moment they were walking back again and the big man was booming, "Come ashore my Pirate comrades! You are all welcome here! Come and enjoy the safety of Pearl Island for a night!" and there was a shout of joy from the sailors in the boat, as they wrestled to get onto dry land and stumbled over the beach towards a distant bonfire and no doubt the flagons of rum that awaited them there.
Hanson took hold of Letitia's arm and helped her to stand upright, then surprised her by easily lifting her into his arms. His stolen frock coat smelt faintly of gunpowder, and her hand curled around his neck and touched a strand of his soft hair as he carried her ashore and then gently set her down at the Captain's feet. The bearded Pirate was looking down at her and licking his lips.
"And what have we here? A pretty little missy!" he said, his lips red in the midst of his coarse black beard and reaching out, he looped one of her curls round his thick finger.
The Captain's fist shot forwards but he managed to check himself just in time. "A hostage," he growled. "My hostage," and he added with an unmistakable note of warning, "A lady."
The bearded pirate laughed, a big throaty chuckle. "It's like that, is it Tom!" and he turned and began trudging towards the bonfire, "You always did like a damsel in distress," he laughed. "Now leave her here with Hanson, and come with me to the cave and I'll see what I can find out for ye."
Letitia was not happy at the thought of being so near so many frenzied sailors swilling rum and fixing her with lascivious stares, but Hanson kept tight hold of her restraints and grabbing a flaming torch, guided her to a quiet spot away from the main bonfire. Thrusting the torch into the deep sand he then flung himself down, arms behind his head, long legs spread out, frock coat open, lazy smile spread across his face. Letitia crouched beside him, arms wrapped round her bent knees and tried not to look at him, although it was very hard not to, looking as he did and visions of his glorious nakedness still dancing in her head.
His eyes burned into her as he played with the leather restraint he held in his hand and tugged on it slightly so she could feel the pull against her wrists. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw how tight his breeches were, straining over his crotch, his hard bulging crotch. Her eyes flicked up to his face and his smile was devilish.
"You've been thinking about me, haven't you?" he whispered, tugging on her wrist.
She gulped and looked away into the night, listening to the surf crashing against distant rocks, trying to ignore the yearning aching between her legs.
Then suddenly the spell was broken by an assertively strident voice, calling across the beach. "Mr Hanson!"
Hanson twitched and jerked upwards in a way that was most unlike his usual relaxed self.
"Mr Hanson!" the voice called again and a figure appeared out of the darkness, a surprisingly small figure considering the commanding tone of the voice.
"Dr Ferris," Hanson coughed out.
"Mr Hanson," the man said, "I wish to speak with you," and glancing at Letitia, added, "Immediately."
He looked extremely young to be a Doctor, Letitia thought. He was short of stature and slight, wearing a battered tricorn hat and barely filling his wool frock coat. He seemed to make up for lack of physical presence with a terrifyingly authoritative air, however. Hanson quickly got to his feet and calling for the cabin boy, ordered him to watch Letitia and then followed the Doctor off into the night with barely a backward glance.
Letitia gingerly stepped over the rocks. The moonlight was so bright, once her eyes had become accustomed to the dark she could see her way almost as easily as if it were daylight. Jim was waiting for her at the bottom of the slope, thinking she had merely gone to relieve herself, which had been her intention, but the she had heard voices and now she was trying to ascertain to whom they belonged. She heard a moan, and making sure her body was shielded by a rock, she peered around. She almost gasped from the sight she was confronted by.
Hanson had the Doctor in his arms. His mouth was hungrily moving over the other man's, his tongue plundering the Doctor's mouth. The Doctor was pushing Hanson's coat off his shoulders and running his hands over Hanson's bare chest. Hanson's hand was fisted in the Doctor's hair, desperately pulling it out of its pigtail. Letitia almost gasped out loud with the shock of what she was seeing and had to clamp her hand over mouth, thanking God she had persuaded Jim to loosen her restraints.
Then ripping at the buttons of the Doctor's coat and thrusting his hand inside, Letitia heard Hanson growl, "Show me those perfect titties, Gracie."
"No," the Doctor cried, in a distinctly feminine voice and pulling at Hanson's wrists said, "Do you know how long it takes to do these wretched bindings? Just kiss me Joshua."
And much to her relief Letitia realised that the Doctor was in fact a woman. Was it any wonder she had looked so young? She was a woman that Hanson was now kissing so ardently, Letitia felt herself grow wet and warm just watching them, especially when Hanson thrust his hand into the front of the Doctor's breeches making her cry out in surprise, and grind against him.
"Oh, Grace," Hanson moaned into her mouth. "You're so hot and tight."
The Doctor's legs wrapped around Hanson's hips and her small hands grasped hold of his tight buttocks as she gyrated against him and her moans escalated in intensity, almost as if she were in pain.
"Oh God, Gracie," Hanson gasped. "You're going to make me spend in my breeches!" he warned as the Doctor's cries spiraled into the night sky like an exotic bird, and Letitia pressed her hot cheek against the cold rock, puzzled by what she was witnessing but very keen to find out how it felt to be made to lose all sense like that.