Hunting the Hunter
part I
by Kid Indy
Thirty miles out from Havana, on a clear morning, the galleon approaching from the North was spotted. The watchman shouted out that it was flying a black flag. Another, smaller craft showed up on the horizon behind the Spanish nobleman's ship, and the captain began shouting orders to make speed for the port. When the second large ship, a second Spanish galleon, appeared in front of them, the whole crew knew that they were about to be boarded. The small travelling vessel only had a few cannon, so the captain ordered the white flag up. The crew lowered his majesty's flag and signaled the surrender. Don Miguel, who in the previous days had only concentrated on his aspirations to become governor of Hispaniola, now ran below deck to wake his daughter Sara. He told her to be brave, that they would only give the pirates the money they wanted and then be on their way. The father and daughter, after she dressed quickly, ascended to the deck.
The two giant ships and the smaller boat pulled alongside the smaller travelling vessel. Don Miguel, who in his youth had fought the English and survived the demise of the Armada, recognized the smaller ship as an English vessel, not too much unlike those of Drake. Thirty years had passed since those days, but the large treasure-ships still carried gold and silver to the homeland. And English dogs still tried to steal it. Miguel could recognize some phrases in English even through the limey accents, and he knew that an English pirate would be behind this. As a well-dressed, blond man boarded along with many from among the rabble on the second galleon, he had a feeling he knew who he was facing. He pulled Sara close to him.
"Bienvenidos, Senor Miguel!" The awful English accent almost ruined the Spanish greeting that Smythe extended. He continued to speak to the aristocrat's crew in Spanish. "Sailors, we do not want to do you any harm or take any of your goods. We merely wish the company of one person here." Don Miguel's blood ran cold as the sea-bandit levelled his arm and pointed to Sara. The 20-year-old beauty pulled even closer to her father.
"You can't have her, Smythe. You'll have to kill all of us."
"Don Miguel, you know that isn't true. I would only have to kill you. But I don't want to do that. I assure you no harm will come to your daughter." Sara's deep brown eyes began to tear with fear.
"What do you want with her? Take me instead, Capitan."
"No, you are going to deliver a message from me."
"What message?"
"It will come on a paper signed by your daughter. And she must sign it for me. Once she has, she will be perfectly safe."
Don Miguel doubted that anyone could be perfectly safe with this pirate on the sea. "I'm sure you've said the same to treasure ship crews, and look--you have two Spanish ships full of English sailors!"
"You have no choice, old man. Hand her over now and you have my promise. Keep being foolish and I will retract it." He pulled out his saber and pointed it at Don Miguel. "Or I could kill you now. I can always get your crew to deliver my message."
Don Miguel knew that he had no choice. "Be brave, Sara. You'll be back to me before long." He guided her in front of him, and Smythe took her by the arm.
"We'll be back shortly." The men around him, not understanding any of the Spanish going back and forth, turned with their captain and made their way onto the huge treasure ship. Don Miguel stood and waited.
Inside La Rosa, the stolen Spanish galleon, Sara was taken to the captain's chambers. The captain produced a blank piece of parchment and placed it on his desk. The two sailors holding Sara let her go. "I just need you to sign here." He motioned to the bottom of the page.
"Why would you send a blank sheet?" she responded in Iberian Spanish.
"It's not going to be a blank sheet. We're going to write a letter from you to Don Pedro."
"No you will not! I will not sign it!" She folded her arms in front of her in defiance. To her, Pedro de la Sierra was a young man who was seeking her in marriage. To Smythe, he was the bold young captain who had nearly captured him.
"Yes you are. You're going to sign it, and then we're going to trap him with it. And you will cooperate. John! Paul!" The two sailors snapped to attention. Shifting to English, he said, "Tie her down to the bed." The sailors looked at each other greedily. "Don't touch her." A bit disappointed, they nonetheless grabbed the struggling Spanish beauty and used spare bedsheets to tie her wrists and ankles to the captain's bed. "That will be all, boys." They left the room.
"Now this is how we will work. I will do what I can to convince you to sign the paper, and then I will free one hand for you to sign it." As he said this, he removed one of her shoes and then the other.
"What are you doing with my shoes?" Looking at an oil lamp on the post, she began to worry.
"I can't convince you properly with those on." He grabbed the lamp and turned away from her.
"No! Don't!"
The captain turned around. "I'm not doing anything yet. I need to find something..." Sara, for the moment convinced that he was not going to burn her feet, scanned the room, looking to see what he was looking for. Her feet, the soft pampered feet of a young aristocrat, began to feel cooler in the ship's air. Rummaging through some chests, Smythe turned around with two bright green feathers in his hand.
"What are you doing?" Sara began to panic as the captain approached the foot of the bed.
"I got these from one of the lovely local birds. They are going to convince you to sign my paper." He grabbed a thumb-size candle, lit it, and placed it on the desk. "When that burns out, you will have the choice to sign the paper or to be convinced some more. But until then, I have to make sure..." Smythe started flicking the feathers' tips across Sara's soles, and she tried to move her feet away as well as she could. The sheets, however, had her legs suspended slightly above the bed, and she could not move them far. She begged in rapid Spanish, but Smythe only responded, "I'll have to convince you until the candle burns out."
He kept flicking at her feet, and soon she was screaming at him to stop. Without warning, he moved both feathers to her right foot, tracing one up the sole as the other wiggled down. Her scream started to crack, and he jumped on the opportunity. Putting the two feathers in his right hand, he grabbed her heel with his left. Like lightning the two feathers' tips found their ways between Sara's long toes, and her protest turned into a squeal and then a giggle. He kept sawing back and forth, putting the soft skin between her toes in electric agony. Her giggle kept coming, and soon she was almost singing as her legs lit up with the tickling coming through her toes. She tried to hold her mouth shut, but again she found herself laughing. Letting go of her heel, he kept sawing back and forth with the feathers as he scratched at her deliciously soft soles with his fingernails. From the ball of her foot to the heel and then from one side of the sole to another, his marauding fingers multiplied the sensations that the feathers were causing. Sara's giggle was unstoppable as it was beautiful, and she bobbed and bounced on the bed as the tickling tortured her.
When Smythe stopped, he looked at the candle, and pointing to it he said, "Well, it looks like there's still some convincing to do."
"No! Please, Capitan! I can't betray my love!"
"Ah, but you will. And now I have to keep convincing you."
"Please, no! I can't stand being tickled!" Smythe only laughed as he reached up inside the young woman's long dress. He quickly located her knees and began to scratch underneath them. Sara let out another squeal and tried to squeeze her legs together. He kept tickling the backs of her legs, occasionally reaching to the front to give her a squeeze above her knee. She was still bucking and laughing, and Smythe was loving it. Without warning he grabbed her left foot and began to dig his fingers into her tender sole. She let out a renewed squeal and began laughing again. He ran the length of one of the feathers under her toes over and over, producing a new round of giggles with each pass. He scratched and scratched just above the heel, keeping her laughter constant, and the rhythm of the feather-induced accents amid the constant bubbling of her normal laugh was intoxicating. He almost did not notice when the tiny candle burned out. Joy slumped back into her pillow, exhausted.
"Now are you willing to cooperate?" Smythe smiled at his beautiful, amply tickled captive. She would have done anything to get out at this point.
Back on deck, almost two hours had passed. Don Miguel was furious when Smythe walked onto the nobleman's ship with only his crew. "Where is Sara? You promised her return!"
"And she will be returned to you, Don Miguel, if you deliver this letter to Pedro de la Sierra." He handed the old sailor a sealed letter.
"Smythe, if you hurt her..."
"Don't worry, old man. We're only having a few laughs together. Now deliver my message! Don Pedro is in Havana now! Go!"
Miguel looked back at the trio of pirate ships as they disappeared over the horizon. He looked at the letter in his hand and turned toward Havana. If anyone could catch Smythe and save Sara, it was Don Pedro.
* * * * * * * * *
Well, this one shouldn't be seven parts like the other one. I hope the setup to tickling ratio wasn't too high. At any rate, please give feedback, and I hope you enjoy!
Kid Indy
part I
by Kid Indy
Thirty miles out from Havana, on a clear morning, the galleon approaching from the North was spotted. The watchman shouted out that it was flying a black flag. Another, smaller craft showed up on the horizon behind the Spanish nobleman's ship, and the captain began shouting orders to make speed for the port. When the second large ship, a second Spanish galleon, appeared in front of them, the whole crew knew that they were about to be boarded. The small travelling vessel only had a few cannon, so the captain ordered the white flag up. The crew lowered his majesty's flag and signaled the surrender. Don Miguel, who in the previous days had only concentrated on his aspirations to become governor of Hispaniola, now ran below deck to wake his daughter Sara. He told her to be brave, that they would only give the pirates the money they wanted and then be on their way. The father and daughter, after she dressed quickly, ascended to the deck.
The two giant ships and the smaller boat pulled alongside the smaller travelling vessel. Don Miguel, who in his youth had fought the English and survived the demise of the Armada, recognized the smaller ship as an English vessel, not too much unlike those of Drake. Thirty years had passed since those days, but the large treasure-ships still carried gold and silver to the homeland. And English dogs still tried to steal it. Miguel could recognize some phrases in English even through the limey accents, and he knew that an English pirate would be behind this. As a well-dressed, blond man boarded along with many from among the rabble on the second galleon, he had a feeling he knew who he was facing. He pulled Sara close to him.
"Bienvenidos, Senor Miguel!" The awful English accent almost ruined the Spanish greeting that Smythe extended. He continued to speak to the aristocrat's crew in Spanish. "Sailors, we do not want to do you any harm or take any of your goods. We merely wish the company of one person here." Don Miguel's blood ran cold as the sea-bandit levelled his arm and pointed to Sara. The 20-year-old beauty pulled even closer to her father.
"You can't have her, Smythe. You'll have to kill all of us."
"Don Miguel, you know that isn't true. I would only have to kill you. But I don't want to do that. I assure you no harm will come to your daughter." Sara's deep brown eyes began to tear with fear.
"What do you want with her? Take me instead, Capitan."
"No, you are going to deliver a message from me."
"What message?"
"It will come on a paper signed by your daughter. And she must sign it for me. Once she has, she will be perfectly safe."
Don Miguel doubted that anyone could be perfectly safe with this pirate on the sea. "I'm sure you've said the same to treasure ship crews, and look--you have two Spanish ships full of English sailors!"
"You have no choice, old man. Hand her over now and you have my promise. Keep being foolish and I will retract it." He pulled out his saber and pointed it at Don Miguel. "Or I could kill you now. I can always get your crew to deliver my message."
Don Miguel knew that he had no choice. "Be brave, Sara. You'll be back to me before long." He guided her in front of him, and Smythe took her by the arm.
"We'll be back shortly." The men around him, not understanding any of the Spanish going back and forth, turned with their captain and made their way onto the huge treasure ship. Don Miguel stood and waited.
Inside La Rosa, the stolen Spanish galleon, Sara was taken to the captain's chambers. The captain produced a blank piece of parchment and placed it on his desk. The two sailors holding Sara let her go. "I just need you to sign here." He motioned to the bottom of the page.
"Why would you send a blank sheet?" she responded in Iberian Spanish.
"It's not going to be a blank sheet. We're going to write a letter from you to Don Pedro."
"No you will not! I will not sign it!" She folded her arms in front of her in defiance. To her, Pedro de la Sierra was a young man who was seeking her in marriage. To Smythe, he was the bold young captain who had nearly captured him.
"Yes you are. You're going to sign it, and then we're going to trap him with it. And you will cooperate. John! Paul!" The two sailors snapped to attention. Shifting to English, he said, "Tie her down to the bed." The sailors looked at each other greedily. "Don't touch her." A bit disappointed, they nonetheless grabbed the struggling Spanish beauty and used spare bedsheets to tie her wrists and ankles to the captain's bed. "That will be all, boys." They left the room.
"Now this is how we will work. I will do what I can to convince you to sign the paper, and then I will free one hand for you to sign it." As he said this, he removed one of her shoes and then the other.
"What are you doing with my shoes?" Looking at an oil lamp on the post, she began to worry.
"I can't convince you properly with those on." He grabbed the lamp and turned away from her.
"No! Don't!"
The captain turned around. "I'm not doing anything yet. I need to find something..." Sara, for the moment convinced that he was not going to burn her feet, scanned the room, looking to see what he was looking for. Her feet, the soft pampered feet of a young aristocrat, began to feel cooler in the ship's air. Rummaging through some chests, Smythe turned around with two bright green feathers in his hand.
"What are you doing?" Sara began to panic as the captain approached the foot of the bed.
"I got these from one of the lovely local birds. They are going to convince you to sign my paper." He grabbed a thumb-size candle, lit it, and placed it on the desk. "When that burns out, you will have the choice to sign the paper or to be convinced some more. But until then, I have to make sure..." Smythe started flicking the feathers' tips across Sara's soles, and she tried to move her feet away as well as she could. The sheets, however, had her legs suspended slightly above the bed, and she could not move them far. She begged in rapid Spanish, but Smythe only responded, "I'll have to convince you until the candle burns out."
He kept flicking at her feet, and soon she was screaming at him to stop. Without warning, he moved both feathers to her right foot, tracing one up the sole as the other wiggled down. Her scream started to crack, and he jumped on the opportunity. Putting the two feathers in his right hand, he grabbed her heel with his left. Like lightning the two feathers' tips found their ways between Sara's long toes, and her protest turned into a squeal and then a giggle. He kept sawing back and forth, putting the soft skin between her toes in electric agony. Her giggle kept coming, and soon she was almost singing as her legs lit up with the tickling coming through her toes. She tried to hold her mouth shut, but again she found herself laughing. Letting go of her heel, he kept sawing back and forth with the feathers as he scratched at her deliciously soft soles with his fingernails. From the ball of her foot to the heel and then from one side of the sole to another, his marauding fingers multiplied the sensations that the feathers were causing. Sara's giggle was unstoppable as it was beautiful, and she bobbed and bounced on the bed as the tickling tortured her.
When Smythe stopped, he looked at the candle, and pointing to it he said, "Well, it looks like there's still some convincing to do."
"No! Please, Capitan! I can't betray my love!"
"Ah, but you will. And now I have to keep convincing you."
"Please, no! I can't stand being tickled!" Smythe only laughed as he reached up inside the young woman's long dress. He quickly located her knees and began to scratch underneath them. Sara let out another squeal and tried to squeeze her legs together. He kept tickling the backs of her legs, occasionally reaching to the front to give her a squeeze above her knee. She was still bucking and laughing, and Smythe was loving it. Without warning he grabbed her left foot and began to dig his fingers into her tender sole. She let out a renewed squeal and began laughing again. He ran the length of one of the feathers under her toes over and over, producing a new round of giggles with each pass. He scratched and scratched just above the heel, keeping her laughter constant, and the rhythm of the feather-induced accents amid the constant bubbling of her normal laugh was intoxicating. He almost did not notice when the tiny candle burned out. Joy slumped back into her pillow, exhausted.
"Now are you willing to cooperate?" Smythe smiled at his beautiful, amply tickled captive. She would have done anything to get out at this point.
Back on deck, almost two hours had passed. Don Miguel was furious when Smythe walked onto the nobleman's ship with only his crew. "Where is Sara? You promised her return!"
"And she will be returned to you, Don Miguel, if you deliver this letter to Pedro de la Sierra." He handed the old sailor a sealed letter.
"Smythe, if you hurt her..."
"Don't worry, old man. We're only having a few laughs together. Now deliver my message! Don Pedro is in Havana now! Go!"
Miguel looked back at the trio of pirate ships as they disappeared over the horizon. He looked at the letter in his hand and turned toward Havana. If anyone could catch Smythe and save Sara, it was Don Pedro.
* * * * * * * * *
Well, this one shouldn't be seven parts like the other one. I hope the setup to tickling ratio wasn't too high. At any rate, please give feedback, and I hope you enjoy!
Kid Indy
