Description
by Candace Smith
Monique is bored. Married to a rich husband whose only interest is in work and making money, she and her six friends plan a sailing trip to the Cayman Islands but are taken by pirates. These are no ordinary modern-day pirates. Under a curse from centuries earlier, these seven men are doomed to live forever in exile, allowed access to their old ship for just seven days every fifty years to sail the high seas to loot, pillage, and, above all, to take women to satisfy their insatiable desire to inflict pain and bondage as well as their desperate lust for female bodies.
Monique, however, has no idea that she is the direct descendant of the witch who cursed the men, but she will soon find out…
Published: 5 / 2010 No. words: 30250
Style: BDSM/Bondage – Content: Moderate – Moderate BDSM, Bondage/BDSM Fantasy, Sex Slavery / Training 
Monique kicked out at him ineffectually with her small bare feet, and she shrieked when his hand smacked down on her thigh. “Stop that, Clarette,” he growled. “It seems such a waste of time to start over with you.”
“I’m not Clarette,” Monique screamed.
In a swift move, Deegan plucked the knife from her hand. “But you are, girl. The centuries could not make me forget your eyes of the sea.”
Monique whimpered when he crawled towards her and he ran a surprisingly gentle thumb through her tears. He whispered, “How I wanted to bring you back to Tortuga and flaunt you in front of the others. To have you kneeling by my side, and everyone who looked upon you would be reminded of the sea. You denied me that pleasure, Clarette… and you took that very sea away from me. Such torment. And now, you will suffer the same torture you have exiled me to.”
Monique managed to stutter, “Please… please don’t hurt me. My husband has money, and he’ll pay more than you could possibly earn for me.”
The remark surprised him. “You think I want to sell you?” His laugh echoed off the walls. “Oh no, no, Clarette. You know that would be impossible. And besides, my wish is to cause you the same torment I have suffered, though perhaps unlike the others, with you it will be an endless condition.”
Monique issued a sob, and once again realized the man was mad. Without warning, his other hand reached out and tore the flimsy light sleeping tank from her body. Monique shrieked and covered her bared breasts. The pirate leered at the flesh still bulging along the edges of her arms, and his fingers hooked through the waistband of her pants. She kicked in panic and clawed at his hands, but his efforts were hardly stalled.
Her garments were tossed onto the floor and she grabbed at the quilt to cover herself. Deegan was pleased with her fear-filled whimpers as he stood to disrobe. His cock burst from his pants, painfully throbbing with anticipation of being buried once again in her moist depths, as if it longed to experience the sensations of their last encounter.
Monique’s eyes widened at the size of him and she shuddered while she looked helplessly for a means of escape. Deegan grabbed her ankle, and she wailed while he turned her over to clap his hand down on her bottom. “Stop this nonsense, Clarette.” He laid his heavy weight on top of her, anticipating the excitement of once more giving her the choice of her torture.
“This new form is just as beautiful as when I saw you last.” He brushed his hands down her quivering body. “I give you the same choice, sorcière,” and he trailed his finger down the crevice of her bottom.
Monique trembled beneath him. Frank had never suggested the act he considered a perversion, and Monique shrieked with the realization this man’s size would rip her apart. She scrambled for a solution to the violation she knew he was intent on perpetrating, and just as Clarette had done so long ago, the pirate was pleased to feel the minor effort of her trying to turn.
This woman was smaller in stature and lacked some of Clarette’s fullness, but her curves were pleasing and her skin soft and as unblemished as he remembered. He rolled to the side and pulled her onto her back. With his head resting on his hand, he looked down at her and impatiently brushed away her hand so he could enjoy an unimpeded view of her quivering breasts as she panted in fear. His thumb brushed over a light pink nipple, tightening its puffiness to a firm, erect state that he pinched painfully until she moaned.
Monique cried when his hand traveled between her hip bones and over the slight swell of her belly until he sifted through her blonde curls and spread her fleshy lips. Perhaps most disconcerting was the realization she was wet in response to his ministrations, and she felt an unexpected cramping in her core as her body seemed to be almost wanting him to fill her. She had fully expected the experience to be even more agonizing with her dry passage. Instead, his stroking was arousing her to a degree that frightened her further.
“Ah… little witch. Your mind may not yet remember me, but your body has not forgotten the passion we shared.”
