It was clear from Gordon’s behavior that he wanted to play-act. Mara stole a glance at the mirrored wall at the end of the room, reasonably sure she’d been placed in the suite that abutted the observation room, certain she was being watched by Alex on her first day out. Hoping she was doing the right thing, Mara tried to go along with Gordon’s game. “Oh, please, Blackbeard, sir, you’re so big and strong. I’m so afraid.” She raised her hands to her face, silently praying she had taken the right tack.
Gordon looked extremely pleased with her response, and Mara relaxed, just a little. “You’re a virgin, are ye?”
For a second Mara couldn’t think how to answer such a ridiculous question, given the circumstances, but she thrust herself back into the role play in time to reply, “Yes, oh yes, sir. Please be gentle with me.”
“Stand up, wench. I want to see what I’ve captured.” Gordon gestured with the point of his sword and Mara got hastily to her feet. Despite her flats, she was still several inches taller than he.
“Hands behind your head,” Gordon ordered. He touched the sharp point of the sword to her breastbone, causing Mara to take an involuntary step back.
“Stay still, wench. Don’t move a muscle, or I’ll have you tied to the mast and flogged.”
Mara did her best to obey as he drew the sword tip down her flimsy gown, ripping the fabric in the process and grazing, though not cutting, her skin. When he was done, the gown hung open and loose on her otherwise naked body.
The faux pirate stared at her with hungry eyes, the tip of his tongue appearing between his lips. Averting her gaze, Mara saw the bulge in his leather pants.
“Aha, the virgin likes what she sees, eh?” Gordon chuckled, his free hand dropping to cup his crotch. “I’ll deflower you soon enough, fear not, wench. But first, a little fun.”
To Mara’s relief he sheathed the sword. He unbuckled the scabbard belt from his waist and set it down on the bureau. Returning to where she stood, he tugged at the leather ties that held his pants closed. Reaching in, he pulled out his cock, which, to Mara’s surprise given the man’s small stature, was huge.
With a delighted laugh, Gordon crowed, “Blackbeard’s cock is second to none, wench.” He pointed to the floor. “Discard your tattered gown, take off the sandals, kneel down and open that pretty little mouth.”
Mara let the silky garment fall from her shoulders and stepped out of her sandals. She dropped to her knees, trying to do it gracefully the way Dawn had taught her. Though she didn’t want to suck this man’s huge cock, it could have been much worse. He’d put away the sword, thank goodness, and there was no bullwhip in sight.
“Hands behind your back.” The man held a small coil of rope. He walked around behind her and crouched down. He gripped her wrists together and wrapped the thin, strong rope around and around until she was tightly bound. He reappeared in front of her, his huge cock level with her face. She could smell his sweat and musk and had to resist the impulse to wrinkle her nose and turn away. Instead, she closed her eyes and imagined the ocean, and above it the clear, boundless blue sky.
The head of his cock pushed between her lips. At the same time, Gordon grabbed a handful of her hair, gripping it hard, so hard Mara’s eyes flew open, her attempt at meditation aborted by the sudden pain.
Her relief of a moment before evaporated, replaced by alarm as the man shoved his huge shaft roughly in her mouth. “I feel any teeth and I’ll make you walk the plank, wench.” Her hair still tangled in his tight grip, he thrust in deeper, pushing his cock down Mara’s throat so she couldn’t breathe.
He remained that way for what seemed nearly a minute until Mara, desperate to draw a breath, began to struggle against him, her eyes beseeching him to let her go. He looked down at her and laughed, the sound cruel and low in his throat. “Stop that wriggling, wench. We’re just getting started.”
The pressure was building behind her face, her lungs burning. Despite his admonition, Mara struggled again, trying desperately to pull back, but he held her fast, his grip tightening until she thought he was going to pull her hair out by the roots. She began to feel lightheaded and her eyes rolled back.
Then—all at once—he let go of her hair and withdrew his cock. Mara, mouth still opened wide, sucked in a huge, grateful breath. With a laugh, Gordon grabbed her head again and once more shoved his cock down her throat. This time he began to thrust back and forth. Mara gagged repeatedly on his cock, gasping for breath each time he drew back. Over and over, he thrust deep, his cock blocking her air passage until she thought her lungs would burst, pulling back just before she passed out. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, sweat dampening her skin, her heart hammering in her chest, her jaws aching. How much longer could she bear this?