Mastertank1
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This story is already in my archive, but a couple of people told me to post it here too, because lot's of folks just don't look in the archives. So, here it is.
The Pirate Prince And The Captain’s Daughter
A Hysterical Historical
By Mastertank1
Note that the character Lorelei Scarwid is very much based on Slap’n’ticklee of the TMF. Mies Van Der Gelb is a highly idealized version of me.
Mastertank1
Lorelei Scarwid was a Cornishwoman, only daughter of sea captain Wilfred Scarwid. Her five brothers, four older and one younger and only one by the same mother, were all captains in their own right, commanding merchant vessels in England’s massive trading fleet for three different mercantile houses.
Lorelei, known to familiars as Leelee, possessed a classically beautiful face. She had a straight nose, a generous mouth that would make any normal man think of kisses, and enormous eyes. They were the kind of eyes poets write about sinking into forever and never surfacing.
Depending on the light she stood in and the clothes she wore, those were changeable in color. They could appear any shade of green from light to very bluish and deep, nearly violet. They would have been the most arresting feature of her physical appearance, were it not for the luxuriant cascade of dark red/auburn hair that fell to the middle of her back in a full, rich mane.
Her stature was a little tall for her time and place. Her strikingly shapely frame carried an unusual degree of strength from clambering with her brothers on the crags which overlooked her home town of Pendennis, Devonshire, and the ruins of ancient Pendennis Castle which stood atop the highest point. The family had moved there from Cornwall many years ago, when Wilfred became the captain of a merchant ship owned by Pendennis’ most prominent family, the Bolithos.
Her five brothers’ ships were all home ported at Pendennis, as was the ship her father had purchased three years ago with his savings. She had also clambered about the rigging of ships with her brothers, beginning when she had only been walking unaided for a few weeks. Leelee was as at home on a ship in a shrieking gale as she was in her own family living room.
This powerfully attractive woman had forborne to accept any of the many offers of marriage that came her way, preferring to become her father’s assistant. She handled his correspondence and numerical calculations with far greater ease and grace than he was able to. She had accompanied him on his last trading voyage to the Far East as supercargo, in charge of the trade negotiations that had racked up profits far beyond her father’s modest expectations.
Wilfred doted on his only girl child, and indulged her wishes rather than insisting that she wed, as most girls her did before reaching her current age of 25. Leelee had promised her adored father that when they returned from the voyage they were now on, she would at least begin to seriously consider some of her flock of suitors.
Leelee referred to them frequently as either a flock, implying that they were sheeplike, or as a gaggle, implying that they were a bunch of silly geese. It was not mere conceit on her part to regard them as unworthy of her. Her parents and brothers all agreed with that assessment.
The keenly intelligent beauty stood five foot three inches tall, and carried a firm fleshed and very fetching 10 stone. She had a classic hourglass figure, with womanly hips and ample breasts promising delight to the man who should prove lucky enough to change her mind about marriage.
The off the shoulder tavern wench dresses she liked to wear revealed a sparse scattering of freckles across her shoulders and the upper part of her back. These matched in color the finer ones that made her nose and cheeks even prettier.
All that climbing had given her very strong thighs and calves, which her father’s sailors sometimes glimpsed when she was up in the rigging. When on a ship at sea, as now, she wore sturdy slippers which she could easily kick off to go aloft, and as easily step back into when she returned to the deck. Her sea chest was well supplied with spare sets of stockings, because climbing the shrouds and ratlines would frequently shred the ones she wore.
Her feet were short and a bit wide, with straight toes of uniform length and notably high arches. Her voyaging stockings were specially made; the stout cotton fabric was reinforced across the entire expanse of the bottoms and toes. The reinforcement was a double thickness of woolen, woven with the lanolin left in to resist soaking better.
This design protected the skin of her soles very well. The combination of cushioning against abrasion and the lanolin that seeped through the inner layer of cotton weaving kept the skin there soft, smooth and supple despite her fearless excursions up the masts.
In this year of 1809, the wars of the French Revolution had been raging for ten years. The Royal navy controlled any stretch of ocean they chose to, but they could not be everywhere at all times. On this trip, the merchant vessel carried a dozen six pounder cannon and a pair of nine pounders mounted as chase pieces at the stern.
It was true that the privateers licensed by France were usually armed more heavily, but the well known superiority of British sailors over their French rivals, plus Wilfreds outstanding seamanship, gave father and daughter confidence that they had little to fear from such seagoing pests. American privateers might have been a different matter, but the war against the rebels of those former colonies had ended many years ago.
The outcome might not have been all that was desired, but at least that war was over. Oddly enough, due to an undeclared war which had broken out over high-handed French treatment of American ships, circumstance had made allies of the former rebels and their erstwhile opponents. However temporary that situation might prove, it certainly held true now.
Mies Van Der Gelb was an American of Dutch descent. He was the chief ally and friend of the infamous Franco-American pirate Jean Lafitte, sharing his fortified home island of Barataria off the Louisiana coast as well as his piratical profession. The styles of the two pirate chieftains, both personal and professional, were very different.
Lafitte’s stronghold, on the southern side of the most northeasterly point of Barataria, was a sprawling city of just over five thousand souls. Some nineteen hundred of these were crewmen or officers of Lafitte’s flotilla of twenty seven pirate ships, varying in size from three masted square riggers the size of a small frigate to single masted cutters with fore and aft rigs. The smaller vessels predominated.
The town, called Port Royale, was lightly defended by a palisade with a fighting step, and wooden blockhouses at the corners. Each blockhouse was armed with four light cannon, mostly four pounders, while the harbor mouth was commanded by two gun batteries built of earth filled gabions [huge wicker baskets], one to either side of the entrance. Each battery held sixteen heavy 18 pounders.
Van Der Gelb’s headquarters was an actual fort, modern in plan, built to his design and under his supervision. It stood on a hill overlooking a bay on the northern side of the most southwesterly point of the island.
This was a large hexagonal structure. The six curtain walls were each three hundred feet long, and each corner was defended by a bastion in the style of the French master military engineer Vauban. The walls were of carefully dressed and laid stone, quarried in upstate New York and brought down by ship.
Knowing that walls of raw stone could not withstand bombardment by modern naval artillery, Van Der Gelb had the outside of each wall and bastion covered by a massive eight yard depth of rammed earth, covered with heavy sod and supported by retaining dikes at the bottom. This was to prevent the earth from washing away in the rain.
Five of the curtain walls faced water, either the open sea, the harbor, or the passage between. These walls were each armed with twelve twenty four pounder guns behind iron shuttered casemates. The six bastions were each four sided. All the sides of four of them, and two sides of each of the other two, also faced water.
Each water-facing bastion side was defended by two massive forty eight pounder guns, in barbette mounts so they could cover wider arcs of fire. The curtain wall and the remaining two sides of two bastions faced the only land approach to the site. This approach was further defended by a large, arrowhead shaped redan, constructed the same way as the fort proper, but lower.
The approach road snaked around the right hand corner of the redan and then back to the gate at the center of the main wall. Intended to stand off a possible land attack by regular troops, this side had more but lighter guns.
The long redan held eighteen twelve pounders in embrasures. The curtain wall behind it was armed with twelve casemated eighteen pounders, while the wall walk above carried sixteen twelve pounder howitzers. Each of the four land facing bastion faces held three casemated twenty four pounder cannon while the fighting platforms of the bastions supported three barbette mounted thirty two pounder carronades per bastion side.
The ground behind the land side of the fort had a row of twelve eight inch mortars, each in a deep mortar pit. A large hatch in the center of the fighting platform of each land side bastion could be removed to allow a pair of massive thirteen inch siege mortars to fire from each position.
Van Der Gelb had named his mighty fortress Joyous Gard, after the legendary castle of Sir Launcelot. To take it would require a large fleet, a large army, and several years. A dozen regular warships with a regiment of infantry to supplement their marines could storm Port Royale in a matter of days.
In Lafitte’s city, He dwelt in a palace. His captains lived in mansions, and his mates and men found lodgings in the city as they chose and were able. Van Der Gelb’s single crewmen each had a private room in the structures of the curtain walls and bastions. Married crewmen and single mates had multi room apartments near their men.
The center of Joyous Gard was occupied by a hexagonal three story citadel. The ground floor and basements held magazines, store rooms, dining halls for the crew and the mates. The second floor held sumptuous apartments for the captains of the six large and powerful ships of Van Der Gelb’s squadron. The entire third floor was his personal quarters.
While the best armed vessel of Lafitte’s force, his personal command and flagship, was a twenty eight gunner, most of his ships mounted from twelve to eighteen guns, and nine of them were cutters with from six to ten guns each. Van Der Gelb had purchased the plans of the new, large frigates just built for the U.S. Navy. His two largest vessels were bastard sister ships to the mighty forty four gunned U.S.S. Constitution. The other four were scaled down versions of the same plans, bearing thirty two guns each.
Unlike Lafitte, Van Der Gelb included a force of Pirate Marines on each ship, and a company to man the fort if all the ships were out. He commanded just as many men as Lafitte, with less than one fourth as many ships. With careful design making excellent use of the space in his multi leveled fort, Van Der Gelb’s nineteen hundred men lived in great comfort and clean, healthy conditions with the twelve hundred dependants of the married among them. Lafitte’s similar number dwelt amid far less comfort, cleanliness and health in their sprawling city where only Lafitte’s palace and the mansions of the captains rose above a single story.
As for Mies Van Der Gelb himself, he was in many ways similar to his fortress and his great warships. He was huge, at six feet and an inch towering over most men of his time. He was massive, powerful, a presence at once reassuring to friends and daunting in the extreme to foes.
Although he could wear the most elegant of clothing with aplomb and flair when the occasion suited, by choice he appeared on the deck of his flagship, the Hurricane, in a sleeveless broadcloth shirt of light blue. He thus displayed muscled arms the size of a normal man’s legs, or of a small woman’s waist. He wore thick-woven cloth bands at forehead and wrists to absorb sweat when in the tropics. The forehead band also prevented his dense mane of rich, chestnut brown hair, otherwise worn loose, from falling forward into his eyes.
His eyes were a similar chestnut brown color, described by his foes as burning with an unholy fire. His full moustache flowed down around his wide mouth to join his even fuller beard. His face was ruggedly handsome enough that many women in the ports around the Caribbean dreamed of it by night, or fantasized about it by day.
He exuded a powerful, raw masculinity which affected both men and women; women were inexorably drawn to it as moths to a flame, while men were intimidated or cowed by it. This was a true alpha male, unquestioned leader of his seagoing pack of wolves.
The Scarwid family merchant vessel was named the Maryam Scarwid, the married name of Wilfred’s late first wife, and the mother of Leelee’s three older brothers. It was eighteen days into the voyage, a fine day in late spring. The wind came from just the north east at twelve knots, providing a good turn of speed to a vessel headed due south under sail.
The Maryam had started by heading southwest from Pendennis until she had gained enough westing to clear the headlands of Portugal, Spain and the bulge of West Africa. Now she was heading due south until that bulge was dead abeam. Then, she would change heading to south by southeast and stop in at the South Africa colony to take on fresh water and vegetables.
The masthead lookout called out a man-o-war approaching from just south of east. Wilfred held his course, the best heading to take full advantage of the current wind direction. When the masthead called down that the vessel was a frigate flying the Union Jack, Wilfred assumed it to be flying false colors because of the direction it was coming from. There were French colonies there, and the Royal navy was not operating off those coasts at this time.
Wilfred was waiting for something he knew must happen in this part of the ocean. When Maryam made enough southing, the wind veered from northeasterly to just north of due east, a perfect wind for sailing due west. It would take them far off the most direct course, but he was sure the approaching frigate was a Frenchman, and did not want to be captured.
As soon as they saw Maryam take a sharp tack to starboard, the French knew the deception had failed. They hauled down the Union Jack and hoisted their true colors, the Tricolor of the French Republic. They also set every sail they possessed, including inner and outer stu’n’s’ls port and starboard.
As a merchant vessel, Maryam was not equipped with quadruple studdingsail yards and so could not reply in kind. As two days wore on, the distance between pursued and pursuer slowly closed. In mid-afternoon, the Frenchman opened fire from a pair of 12 pounder cannon, hauled around to serve as bow chasers.
As usual with Frenchmen, whose navy did not believe in spending the money for live fire target practice, the shots fell wide. An hour later, after the French had wasted twenty shots, Wilfred judged that the range had closed enough. Carefully laying both nine pounder stern chase guns himself, he ordered them fired in sequence.
The port side gun, fired first, tore a hole through the bigger ship’s courses, fore, main and after. The starboard gun struck the yardarm of the sp’ritmains’l, knocking it off the bowsprit to drag in the water and slow the ship down.
As the drag skewed the frigate to one side, Maryam’s lookout saw a signal hoist run up the other ship’s aftermast. The Frigate had two smaller vessels, converted captures with prize crews aboard, trailing her. They were far enough back that the lookouts at Maryam’s mastheads couldn’t see them, but close enough to clearly read the mother ship’s signals, especially with the aid of a glass.
Just before sundown, the mastheaders reported a pair of ketch-rigged sloops of war passing the frigate to either side and chasing Maryam. They also reported that the frigate had recovered and rehung the yardarm, and rigged a new sail. Then the sun set.
Wilfred tried every trick of seamanship he had learned in 35 years at sea, but the other three vessels were, by design, all faster sailors. The next morning’s sun rose to reveal a dire situation. The frigate was still too far back to resume shooting, but her speedy consorts were nearly abeam of Maryam to port and starboard, too far distant for the merchanter’s smaller guns to reach.
The chase went on through yet another night. The next morning’s sunrise, the fourth of the chase, revealed that the pair of twenty gun sloops had reached positions ahead of Maryam to port and starboard. They were far enough in the lead to angle in and cut her off.
As soon as that fact was evident. The pursuing frigate, which had deliberately avoided catching up, cracked on all sail and began to close the distance quickly. With a deep sigh of resignation, Wilfred struck his flag, and gave the orders for the crew to heave to and furl the sails.
The three French controlled vessels surrounded Maryam. They took off her crew, including Wilfred and Leelee. The group of four ships resumed sailing west, now in close company. Maryam’s crew were confined in the holds of the three Frenchmen. Wilfred and Leelee shared a cabin under the quarterdeck of the French frigate, whose name they now knew was Bellerophon.
After another few days, they arrived at an island in the French Windward group, and sailed into a deep bay. The bay was filled with captured vessels. There was a village of tents on a low ridge of sandy clay that rose above the harbor.
The day after they arrived, the least valuable of the captured ships sailed away to the south. It was carrying a load of the crews of captured ships, who would be left on a desolate shore somewhere in South America.
Up on the ridge, the captains of taken ships shared a tent. The relatively few female captives shared another. Leelee was allowed to see her father for several hours every day, which was a great comfort.
A week later, the Bellerophon was about to depart to take more prizes when a lookout, standing on the highest point of the ridge, called out that a ship was approaching from the northwest. As the day progressed, the information was updated.
It was a large ship. It was three masted and square rigged. By the hull design, it looked like one of the large, fast merchant ships the New Englanders in America had started to launch. The Bellerophon’s crew took her out to challenge the stranger.
Leelee and her father, each with their own spyglass, took their stand together just below the peak where the lookout stood. The stranger’s armament or lack thereof could not be discerned. Her hull was painted a uniform black, making the gunports, if any, impossible to distinguish.
At first sight of Bellerophon, the stranger hoisted the flag of the Batavian Republic, once known as Holland, until conquered by Revolutionary France.
Bellerophon closed, intending to exchange news and commandeer supplies.
As the Dutch flagged stranger turned to keep it’s distance, Bellerophon hoisted the Tricolor and a signal to approach and speak. The stranger behaved very oddly. She maintained course until she had passed well to the east of Bellerophon, then came about and ran down on the Frenchman at speed, with the wind on her quarter. At the same time the stranger hauled down the Dutch flag and hoisted a strange banner.
Leelee, whose eyes were keener than those of her aging father, described the odd heraldry; “The field is yellow. The main charge is a mailed fist in blue clutching the haft of a black short handled sledge hammer, which has just cracked the crown of a white skull.”
Wilfred blanched. “I know that banner! That’s the Pirate Prince! That is Mies Van Der Gelb!”
“Surely a mere pirate will not dare to fight with a forty gunned frigate, father?”
“This one will. Watch and see. Four years gone, THIS pirate came upon the aftermath of our great victory at Cape Trafalgar, and took the Spanish eighty gun liner La Rata Encoronada!”
“Well, wasn’t the Spaniard damaged by our ships of the line?”
“Nay, my girl. That eighty gunner was flag of the van, and was one of the seven that fled without ever engaging. She became separated from her consorts in the night. The day after, Van Der Gelb came upon her, closed in, crossed her stern, raked her three times with full broadsides and took her by boarding. He towed her to Maracaibo in Venezuela and sold her to the rebels against the Spanish crown. Guns, powder, shot and all. They paid him by filling his holds with Inca Gold, hot peppers and vanilla beans. These he took back to New Orleans and resold for easily thirty times the worth of the ship he traded for the cargo.”
“He sounds like a truly remarkable man for a pirate, father. He seems to have courage and sagacity, qualities seldom found among such men.”
“Indeed, such is his repute. He his said to be quite handsome in his person, although far too muscular for gentility. They say he quite the gallant among ladies.”
Leelee, wearing a secret little smile which her engrossed father could not see, murmured; “So I have heard said. So I have heard.”
Out on the ocean, the Bellerophon had cleared for action. Her captain had worn ship and was running back toward the harbor, quartering the wind. The pirate was heading straight for her. Leelee said; “ He will be raked by the bow unless he turns very soon!”
Her father replied grimly; “If what I have heard of his vessel is true, that will do him little harm. Then he will do fearful execution upon the French.”
For most ships in those days, the bow and stern were weak points. A cannonball striking in either of those places would easily smash through the thinner wood of the structures there and whistle down the length of the ship’s interior, dismounting cannon and killing crew. Van Der Gelb’s ships had been built to the plans of the U.S.S. Constitution, yet to earn her nickname of Old Ironsides .
The planking and ribs, all that there was of a normal ship’s structure, were in these vessels backed by diagonal brace beams throughout the length of the hull, quadrupling the strength of the sides. The bow and stern were built up from laboriously steamed and bent, massive beams of Oak, layer upon layer, until they were actually stronger by far than the sides.
Sure enough, as Bellerophon passed in front of Hurricane’s oncoming bow, each pair of upper and lower deck guns lashed out together. Ten times, a twelve pound ball above and a twenty four pound ball below flew in tandem across the narrowing gap of water, only to ricochet harmlessly off the massive, resilient Oak timbers of Hurricane’s bow.
As this took place, Hurricane’s crew took in all sails except for a small triangular jib at the bow, a topsail on each mast and a small spanker at the stern for steerage way. Then the Hurricane was sailing past Bellerophon’s stern, a mast of glass windows and thin wooden slat frames. Now, Van Der Gelb gave the order to run out the guns.
As the concealed ports, twelve on each of two decks on Hurricane’s port side alone, sprang open as one, the rumble of her heavy artillery running out could be clearly heard on the heights of the island. Still peering through her distance glass, Leelee’s jaw dropped. She squeaked; “What ARE those things, daddy? They look monstrous!”
“That ship, my dear, is a 44 gunner. More to the point, she bears twenty four twenty four pounder long guns on her upper gun deck, while her lower gun deck carries twenty four forty eight pounders short barreled cannon. The fact is, that pirate throws more weight of metal in a single broadside than one of our seventy four gun ships of the line. Eight hundred thirty four pounds versus seven hundred two.”
At that moment, Hurricane’s port battery opened fire by sections. Each section consisted of four guns on each deck, and they fired as their ship’s forward progress brought them to bear. Seeing the way the tongues of flame emerging from the mouths of the cannon splayed widely to the sides, Wilfred exclaimed; “My Lord! Those guns are double, no triple shotted! Triple, by God! Canister over grape over ball, or I miss my guess!. This single broadside will turn Bellerophon into a charnel house!”
And so it was. The canister in this case was an open fronted can of thin tin, holding forty eight pounds or twenty four pounds of musket balls. Grape shot was a wood and leather stand holding enough four ounce balls to make up the shot weight for the gun it was to be fired from. Ball meant just that; a solid iron ball weighing twenty four pounds for an upper deck gun or forty eight for one of the lower deck monsters.
The steering ropes were cut, the wheel carried away, and the crew virtually pureed by the hurricane of shot unleashed from the Hurricane’s guns. Van Der Gelb wore ship, and poured a double shotted broadside of canister over grape into Bellerophon’s shredded stern from Hurricane’s starboard battery as she passed. Then, he put his helm hard over and came along Bellerophon’s port side.
If any of the French crew were still alive to serve the guns that had not been dismounted in the barrage, they had not had time to reload yet. Pirate marines in Hurricane’s tops poured a flood of well aimed rifle fire and blasts from one or two pound swivel guns down at anything moving on the Bellerophon’s weather decks. There was no return fire, because Bellerophon’s masts had all come down at Hurricane’s first broadside.
The pirate crew grappled at bow and stern, and swarmed across. The handful of survivors who tried to resist was slain in minutes. Cutting her grapples free, Hurricane sailed on into the harbor, leaving a prize crew of sixty on board Bellerophon to cut away debris, raise sail on the stumps of masts still standing, and bring her into harbor.
Seeing their ship conquered, the crewmen who had been left ashore to guard the prisoners went wild. They broke into the stored barrels of brandy, and, thoroughly drunk, poured up the hill towards the women’s tent.
The sea captains saw this. Summoning the relatively few captured sailors remaining on the island, they armed themselves with tent poles, cooking utensils, roasting spits and whatever else they could lay hands on. Some had only rocks. They prepared to defend the women’s tent.
Scanning the encampment ashore through his glass, Van Der Gelb saw the tide of drunken French sailors flowing up the hill, then saw it’s destination at the top. He called the hand to hand fighting specialists of the ship’s boarding party to man the longboat and launch, and stood in the bow of the launch as they rowed ashore as fast as they could.
Beaching both boats, they sped in the wake of the drunken mob, Mies in the lead. Arriving on the hilltop, he took in the situation at a glance. The captured sailors, mostly from the Maryam, along with the captains of the prizes, were desperately trying to hold off the drunkards. Several had already fallen to the pistols, cutlasses and boarding pikes of the crewmen off the Bellerophon.
As soon as a half dozen of his boarders had come up alongside him, Mies bellowed; “CHARGE!!”
With a boarding pike, normally a two handed weapon, in his right hand and a cutlass in his left Mies cut a swath through the Bellerophon’s crew. He took a stand in the entrance to the tent and stood them off while his deadly boarders closed on them from behind. In less than two minutes, not one was standing.
The women emerged from the tent, seeking the men they knew from the ships they had been captured on. Ascertaining that her father was unharmed beyond bruises, Leelee looked at their rescuers and her attention was instantly caught by the looming mass of Mies. She saw that he was bleeding from several cuts and tended them.
Mies, for his part, could not take his eyes off of Leelee. He thought she was simply the loveliest woman he had ever seen, and he admired her aplomb and competence in the odd situation. The captives all were aware that their ‘rescuers’ were pirates, and were not at all sure what their status would now be.
Over the next few days, all the ships were repaired and made ready for sea. Mies wanted Leelee more than he had ever wanted anything in his life. He came up with a plan to have her.
On the next to last evening Mies drew Leelee aside, and asked her to walk down the shore with him, away from the fires of the camp. She assumed that he meant to try to make love to her. She was not all sure how she felt about that, and, still undecided, she went with him.
Once they had gone far enough to insure privacy he turned to face her; “Miss Lorelei, I have a decision to make. I will leave the final choice to you; if you accept the bargain I am about to offer, the choice will be made one way, if not it will go another. The crux of the matter is that I do not have enough crew to man all the ships I have here, and I also need to send the captive sailors who have chosen not to join me on their way.”
“I could just supply the smallest vessel for a journey to the nearest British colony and cram all the former captives onto it. But there is something I want which only you can give, and I wish to present you with a reason to give it.”
“What I want is you. You are thinking that I could simply take you. I could, but I have never in my life taken any woman without her consent, and I do not intend to start, now or ever. So, I make you this offer. The ship I shall choose not to take with me will be the Maryam. More, I shall leave her laden with all that she held when captured, plus fully provisioned as though you had left home port that morning. I shall place on board her your father, captain Wilfred, with her original crew entire, and any of the others whom your father may wish. Your father will continue his voyage to the east as if it had never been interrupted, and then return with his profits. All this, if and only if you willingly consent to go with me, to serve as my love slave.”
Leelee was stunned! She felt her heart begin to pound at the prospect of becoming this mighty man’s slave! She knew she should feel revulsion, but somehow felt only excitement and growing arousal. The more she contemplated the prospect, the more she wanted to say yes! But, what she did say was; “For ever? For the rest of my life?”
“That will depend. When your father takes Maryam to Cape Colony, I will take the rest of these vessels to Maracaibo in Venezuela. There I will sell Bellerophon to the rebels against Spain. From there we will go to British Honduras. Just at dawning I will send the other captains and all the other women ashore in a spare longboat. Thence we will return to Joyous Gard, my fortress in Louisiana.”
“Once at see, on his way, your father will find a letter in his cabin. It will instruct him to meet us at the Brazilian port of Pernambucco on his way home. The trading voyage he purposes will take him at least two years. We will meet him two years hence, in a port belonging to England’s ally, Portugal. On that day, if you choose, I will release you to return home with your father. Or, if I have succeeded in my plan, we will invite him to attend our wedding in Joyous Gard.”
Leelee stood breathless. It was so audacious, so gallant, so impossibly romantic! She suspected in her heart that if she said no, he would give her father his ship back anyway. She chose not risk being wrong. She agreed to the bargain offered by the handsome, irresistibly masculine pirate prince. She said yes.
The next day, as the Maryam sailed away to the east while the rest of the little flotilla tacked against the wind to the westward, Leelee noticed two things different about Maryam. The crew had been increased by sixteen more men, and Mies had upgraded her armament. The six pounder broadside guns had been replaced by nines, while the nine pounder chase pieces had been replaced with twelve pounder long guns. She concluded that Mies was in fact a kinder man than he wished people to believe.
As long as the other women and sea captains remained on board the Hurricane, Mies treated Leelee with strict propriety. On the morning that they dropped off the women and captains in a longboat, Mies reminded her that she was now his slave, for the next two years. He spent the day commanding his flotilla, while verbally and physically teasing her intermittently through the day.
By evening, Leelee was in a wholly unaccustomed state of excited anticipation. It was after dinner, with tropical sunset painting the western sky with a myriad colors. She was standing by the portside rail enjoying the sky. Mies walked up behind her and put his arms around her waist. She felt the hard masculinity of his body pressing up against her back, the massive power of his arms enclosing her torso. When he began to kiss her bare shoulder and the side of her neck, she shivered again and again with delight.
Shocked at her own daring, she turned her head and sought his lips with hers. His kiss was hard and passionate, and it seemed to set her on fire. Then she emitted a startled squeak; Mies had picked her up and tucked her under his left arm. Then he carried her down the after hatch to the captain’s spacious quarters in the stern.
With the door slammed behind them and the bar dropped, he stood her on a velvet covered pedestal and spun her around. As she turned, he tore a strip about two inches wide from the hem of her skirt. Leelee was surprised to say the least. When Mies used it to bind her wrists to a stout iron ring set into the deck beam over head she gasped. It forced her to stand on tiptoe.
Mies kissed Leelee again, then he pulled the bottom of her blouse out of the waistband of her skirt and pulled it up her arms past her head. Then he pulled up a chair, sat, and started to tickle her belly!
Of all the things Leelee had thought Mies might do to her, tickling had never even crossed her mind. As her lovely face bloomed into sweet, girlish giggles he wickedly grinned back. Both of his powerful hands played with her belly for several minutes, the touches feather light and teasing. She kept giggling and wiggling. To her amazement this tickling was turning her on like nothing else ever had!
Mies spun Leelee around and began firmly, but never harshly, digging his big fingers into her ribs. That made her laugh uncontrollably. She twisted and writhed, but couldn’t get away. He loved the sweet sound of her laugh, and the smooth softness of her skin. He decided to switch from prodding her ribs to running his hands up and down her shapely flanks.
Leelee was dancing around on her toes as she laughed and squirmed. Strangely, she was actually enjoying this. As she turned back around to where she could see Mies’ face again, it was clear that he was enjoying her helplessness at least as much as he was. Somehow, knowing that thrilled her.
His fingertips jumped to her widely displayed armpits. As they made leisurely circles around the edges, Leelee laughed and gyrated wildly. He whispered to her; “Oh yes, my little tickle slave. Oh, we are going to have so much fun together. I am going to tickle and tease every square inch of your beautiful body. What is that new measure the French invented? Ah, yes! Every single millimeter of your soft, smooth, feminine, and oh so ticklish skin.”
Then Mies leaned in and kissed her. It was a long, slow, deep kiss. As he kissed her, his fingers slid into the centers of Leelee’s defenseless armpits and started to scrabble there.
Leelee was trying her best to simply howl with helpless mirth, but his mouth over hers stifled the laughter and held it inside. Her beautiful, sexy body was writhing in sweet agony. Her level of arousal was climbing to levels that Leelee had never so much as imagined. The way that her laughter was being denied increased her feelings of helplessness. It made her feel incredibly submissive. It turned her on uncontrollably.
Breaking the kiss, Mies whispered again; “You love this torment, don’t you my tickle slave? It excites you. It fills you with a lust like nothing you have ever known. It drives you wild. It makes you feel submissive towards me, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. Soooo submissive. So helpless.”
“It makes you want to please me, doesn’t it? To serve me?”
“Yes. Yes, it does! Oh! Oh, no! Oh hooooooo hoohoohoo! Hahahaha!”
Leelee burst into laughter again as he started to tickle her lovely breasts. Mies was fascinated by the way her tender breasts felt in his hands. He tenderly, teasingly explored the soft flesh. Walking behind her he cupped her breasts in his palms while his fingertips tickled her fully erect, gently throbbing nipples.
He nuzzled the softness of her neck, nibbling at the sides while he tickled the sides and undersides of her breasts. He nibbled and licked her delicate, sensitive ears. Leelee howled with the wonderful, agonizingly tickle-erotic sensations. Then he repeated on her other ear.
Mies kissed her again. Another of those long, lingering, deep kisses that Leelee had already learned to love. While he continued that kiss, he began lighting tickling her throat. He could feel Leelee gurgling happily into his kiss.
When he started to tickle her under the chin, he could feel her luscious mouth happily, helplessly giggling under his. Oh, what a wonderful feeling, to have such control over this little beauty! She was simply intoxicating. Mies knew he must stay in control of himself. He might simply get carried away, and the last thing he wanted to do was to go too far. He knew that if he tickled her too long or hard, he could make this experience unpleasant for Leelee.
But that formed no part of his plan. No, Mies wanted Leelee to enjoy being tortured by him just as much as he enjoyed tormenting her. He wanted this delightful little creature to become addicted to his tickling. He wanted her to derive so much pleasure from his tickle torment that she would come to crave it as a drunkard craves his grog. In fact, what he wanted was for her to love him, as he was already beginning to love her. He had no idea how close he already was to succeeding.
Mies was entranced by the sound of Leelee’s wild, helpless laughter. Already, a sweet note of genuine joy was detectable in the sound. He judged it was time to back off just a bit, to make the tickling more playful and fun.
Mies sat back down in his chair. He grasped Leelee’s womanly hips and turned her so that her right side was turned to him. He slipped his hands into the waistbands of her skirt and her underclothes, and slipped them down to just above her knees.
Despite the situation she was already in, Leelee managed to blush at this sudden exposure of her most private of privates. Mies was delighted by this. He reached out his right hand and started to tickle her groin, from the waist down to just above her pubic hair.
Leelee giggled wildly and recoiled away from the soft, sexy tickle. His left hand was waiting behind her, and at once began tickling her firm, exquisitely shapely ass cheeks. She giggled again and her lovely wide hips involuntarily shot forward, instinctively seeking escape from the tickle. This brought her back into reach of his right hand, which instantly started to tickle her groin again.
Mies soon had her caught in a sexy, undulating rhythm. He loved to watch her gyrate back and forth. She looked down at his devastatingly handsome face, and the rapt enjoyment she saw there warned her inside. She was actually happy, which shocked her.
Mies leaned in and gave her a tongue tickling right in her bellybutton. She screamed in delight, and laughed again. He repeated the playful attack. Then he left his tongue in Leelee’s inny, playing wickedly with the sensitive flesh.
He leaned back again, and resumed the teasing front and back tickles. But now Mies moved his hands slowly closer together, until they were both in contact at the same time, tickling her groin and buttocks at the same time.
Leelee was deeply confused. Why, oh why was she enjoying this so much? Tell the truth, why was she loving it? She only knew that she was. She was turned on and happy, and being driven slowly crazy by the relentless tickling.
Her sex mound was very wet, practically dripping with the lubrication of her uncontrollable arousal. The tip of her erect clit was beginning to peek out from under the small hood of flesh that normally hid it. Mies moved his hands to the backs of her thighs and began tickling there. Leelee continued to giggle. She shivered in sheer delight.
Mies leaned forward and softly blew on the head of her clit. Then he did it again, and again. Each slow, warm breath made her shiver more than ever, while his hands on the backs of her thighs kept her giggling. Leelee wanted him sooo much! Oh, god, she wanted this powerful man to just take her!
Mies jumped his hands down to the soles of her feet, which remained unprotected because of her tiptoes position. That tickled so much that Leelee just screamed, and then jerked both feet up and away. Mies, alarmed, bolted up from his chair and caught her around the waist before her suddenly unsupported weight could deliver a painful jerk to her shoulders.
The feel of that powerful, sinewy left arm holding her up while his right hand untied the strip of cloth around her wrists was so good. It made her feel safe and protected. This time, it was Leelee who initiated the kiss.
As Mies set Leelee down on her bare feet, she held the kiss. She stepped out of her skirt and underthings. As soon as her wrists were free, she began to unbutton his shirt, tearing at the fabric in a frenzy.
Grinning tolerantly, Mies helped Leelee take his shirt off. She went for his waistband next. God, how she wanted him! This time he stopped her. Seizing her by the hips, he lofted her and tossed her onto the bed.
Unlike most shipboard beds, this one was sprung with woven three inch wide leather straps under the mattress. When Leelee landed on it, the leather gave and then rebounded, bouncing her into the sir not once but twice.
By the time the bouncing stopped, Mies was on the bed straddling her torso. She thrilled to the sensation of his muscular thighs squeezing her flanks. He was letting her know without words that although he enjoyed her exuberance, he was the one who would always be in charge, in control, never her.
Using the same strip of cloth from her skirt, Mies secured Leelee’s wrists once again, to a leather covered ring set in the wall above the pillows at the center of the head of his bed. There were two more rings, one near each edge of the bed, each with a stout strap of softly tanned leather attached to it.
Grasping Leelee’s ankles, Mies doubled her over and fastened each ankle with one of the straps, so that her feet were held widely apart with her ankles alongside her forearms.. He stood back up and swiftly discarded his shoes, pants and stockings. Leelee stared hungrily at his muscular legs and his rampant masculinity. She licked her lips. Not a virgin and no stranger to desire, she had never wanted any man so badly.
Leelee was ready to take him inside her. She had been for some time. In fact she was eager. She murmured; “Oh, yes, yes my darling one, yes!”
Climbing back onto the bed, Mies leaned forward and guided himself into Leelee. She had never made love in a position like this one. The feel of his solid, muscled torso against the backs and insides of her thighs felt lovely! His manhood inside her was touching and pressing right on her internal pleasure spot. His unusual thickness was moving her flesh in exactly the right way to send bursts of pleasure from her clit.
Then Mies started to tickle her ankles! She giggled and squirmed, and each happy squirm sent additional bolts of pleasure from her clit and her spot. She realized that he knew exactly what he was doing to her, and relaxed to happily enjoy her helplessness. Somehow, this feeling of being completely defenseless and at his mercy made everything better, nicer, sweeter.
He started to tickle her calves, and Leelee giggled and squirmed harder. Her calf muscles jumped and twitched. Her thighs writhed eagerly against his body. Oh yes, this was good! He would soon make her climax, she knew. She could feel it building inside.
When Mies began tickling the backs of her knees Leelee burst into laughter. Her hips bucked and thrusted, quite involuntarily. After a minute or so this, Leelee was right on the edge of an orgasm. Mies leaned forward, bringing his hard chest into contact with her nipples and the undersides of her breasts.
Just as her orgasm started to break loose, he reached up and started to scrabble his fingertips over the soles of her helpless bare feet. Hysterical laughter exploded from her wide open mouth, and she came.
Oh, how Leelee came! Long and intense and powerful, this climax seemed to go on far, far longer than usual. All while she laughed and writhed in hysteria. Her pleasure peaked, and began to subside. Then Mies changed the angle of his fingertips, scratching the skin of her soles ever so lightly with his nails.
Oh, lord, that tickled so bad! Or so good? She could feel another climax building up in her gut, and she welcomed it. “Yes!” She thought; “This was what the tickling was all about! Making her cum so hard! Yes!”
She came again with a happy scream. Mies quickly kissed her, and started to play with her toes! Oh that was too much! It tickled so horribly! Leelee’s pretty toes frantically wiggled and twitched, flexing and scrunching and trying to escape the delectable, unbearable sensations. All the while she twisted and shrieked in her helpless joy, cumming again as he tormented her tender toes.
Leelee thought that heard Mies say; “My turn!”
He started to scrabble those teasing, tickling, tormenting fingertips right in her arches! Her high, soft, smooth, desperately sensitive arches! Her body convulsed in deafening guffaws as she roared with forced mirth! When he stifled her laughter by kissing her mouth, Leelee came for the forth time, and that triggered Mies climax. She felt his whole body stiffen and thrust as he came. She felt his roar of triumphant pleasure explode into his still held kiss. She felt his manhood pulse and pump a flood of his joy into her!
Knowing that she had now given him pleasure, as he had for her, set her off into another peak before that prior one had even ended. Mies quickly unwrapped the bonds that were holding her ankles and wrists.
Mies changed Leelee’s position. He slid a drawer in the bed base open, and pulled out two sets of unequal doubler cuffs. The larger cuff of each set went around the upper middle of one of Leelee’s thighs. The smaller one, attached to the back of each thigh cuff, held the ankle of the same leg so that the heel touched the crease where the thigh met the buttock.
The straps which had held Leelee’s ankles the first time were now used to fasten her wrists to the side rings at the head of the bed. Mies lay on his back with Leelee on top of him face down. She thought; “Oh! This is interesting!”
Then she felt the fact that Mies, although he had just climaxed, was still hard. Now she thought; “Well! This is VERY interesting!”
Then he was tickling her sides again, more roughly than before, his fingertips probing the lines of her ribs and between them. She laughed raucously and happily writhed on top of him. The harder she laughed and the more desperately she wriggled, the more she could feel him responding by growing longer and harder.
When Mies began lightly, surface pinching her armpits the tickling sensations flooding Leelee’s nerves grew far more intense. So did her helpless response. Realizing that her reactions to the tickling were driving Mies’ arousal, she made a conscious decision to let go of what relatively little self control she had left.
Leelee deliberately let her laughter go wild and totally out of control. She no longer made any attempt to control her body, letting it quiver, shiver, writhe and squirm in defenseless ticklish ecstasy. She felt a sense of satisfaction though her happy torment, feeling her man’s enjoyment of his total control of her, reading it clearly in his face. Soon, Mies grabbed her gyrating hips, positioned her and slid himself into her.
Leelee was loving it. Her emotions and body were glowing with sheer pleasure. In this position, the delightful friction on her internal hot spot was even more wonderful, the rubbing of her clit against his groin even hotter and sweeter.
Leelee was right on the brink of a climax, when all of a sudden his big hands came down, one on each buttock, in a resounding double smack! The sound startled her and made her jump, and the sudden jolts of sensation made her cum very hard! Mies let both hands remain on her firm butt cheeks, kneading and squeezing them first, and then tickling them, making her giggle and squirm till she came again, this time he kissed her just before she climaxed and held the kiss till she peaked and subsided.
Once again, Leelee heard Mies whisper; “My turn.”
Her eyes opened wide and she stared at him from inches away, noting the wicked grin on his face. She gulped in mock fear. Then Leelee felt Mies lift his hands off of her buttocks, and all of sudden his nails were maddening teasing the heels of both of her feet.
Leelee, nerves hypersensitized by her many orgasms, simply went wild. It tickled SO BAD! But it still felt sooooo good! Every movement of her desperately ticklish body caused still more of that delicious friction on her two pleasure spots.
Mies kept on tickling Leelee’s heels till she came again. Then he tickled the more sensitive balls of her feet until she climaxed again. Then he tormented the flats of her soles until the more intense tickling sensation there brought her off again.
Leelee was caught on a feedback loop. Every climax seemed to make her more ticklish, and each increase in ticklishness seemed to make her next orgasm bigger and better! Now her fiendish owner/lover was slowly, agonizing stroking her foot bottoms.
Mies poised the five fingers of each hand on the corresponding foot just below the bases of the toes, then drew them slowly down over the balls and across the flats to the heels, deliberately avoiding the arches, then paused and went back up again. Leelee had never been tickled like this before, and she loved it. As her laughter and movements got more extreme, Mies stepped up the speed of the strokes till she climaxed again.
As soon as this latest orgasm peaked, he at once began toying with her toes again. “Oh God, this is too much!” Leelee thought; “I’m just too ticklish for this!”
But the tickling continued. The wild enjoyment continued. Mies played with Leelee’s frantically flailing toes, teasing the pads, the stems, the tips, and the exquisitely tender spots between her toes until he felt her climax again.
Then he went back to those awful, slow strokes, only this time all ten of his fingertips were right on Leelee’s arches, the most ticklish spots she possessed.
Within seconds, he had his poor slave at that desperate stage where she tries just as hard as she can to laugh, but no sound can emerge, only air. As the truly unbearable tickling sensations overwhelmed her, she found herself caught in what seemed to her to be single, endless climax. A climax that went on and on, and which would never, could never end until Mies, her beloved, decided to stop those terrible, unendurable ticklish caresses on her arches!
Then Leelee felt Mies reaching his own mighty climax again, and it carried her pleasure aloft to a new level. It seemed as if she felt his pleasure as well as her own, and as if he could feel her joy and pleasure on top of his. It was a whole new sensory realm, and she was lost in the wonder of it.
Then they subsided and started to drift back to earth. Mies unbound his Leelee and tossed the bonds aside. Leelee threw her limbs around him, squeezing possessively. She rubbed her tingling arches on the rocklike hardness of his calves. She kneaded those powerful muscles of his with her fingers and toes. She reveled in every bit of contact, every touch and squeeze and kiss. So did he.
That night Mies and Lorelei made love again, three more times before morning. Each time, he tied her and tickled her, than took her. Each time she eagerly held out her lissome limbs to be bound, wiggled invitingly to be tickled.
The two years passed like a dream of happiness. When they met with Leelee’s father Wilfred and the Maryam at Pernambucco, it was to show him their wedding rings and their newborn son. Lorelei happily informed her father that they were married, that they loved each other, and that she was his forever.
In a private conversation, Mies informed Wilfred that he and his squadron were no longer playing pirate, instead carrying lucrative, high value cargoes in dangerous parts of the world. Because the six private warships formed a force that few dared challenge, each voyage now was nearly as profitable as the piratical ventures had been. The perils, of course, were far less.
After holding a great celebration ashore, the family parted and all went home happy. Wilfred to Pendennis, Devonshire, England, content that his adored daughter had found her true love. Mies and Lorelei to their fortress home of Joyous Gard, now truly joyous for both of them.
Next voyage, Wilfred would bring his wife with him. Mies and all his flotilla would meet them at Maracaibo, so that Lorelei could assure her mother that she was well, and show her her grandson. Then they would travel in company to the Indies to trade.
The End.
As always, please post comments, here or on the thread in my archive.
The Pirate Prince And The Captain’s Daughter
A Hysterical Historical
By Mastertank1
Note that the character Lorelei Scarwid is very much based on Slap’n’ticklee of the TMF. Mies Van Der Gelb is a highly idealized version of me.
Mastertank1
Lorelei Scarwid was a Cornishwoman, only daughter of sea captain Wilfred Scarwid. Her five brothers, four older and one younger and only one by the same mother, were all captains in their own right, commanding merchant vessels in England’s massive trading fleet for three different mercantile houses.
Lorelei, known to familiars as Leelee, possessed a classically beautiful face. She had a straight nose, a generous mouth that would make any normal man think of kisses, and enormous eyes. They were the kind of eyes poets write about sinking into forever and never surfacing.
Depending on the light she stood in and the clothes she wore, those were changeable in color. They could appear any shade of green from light to very bluish and deep, nearly violet. They would have been the most arresting feature of her physical appearance, were it not for the luxuriant cascade of dark red/auburn hair that fell to the middle of her back in a full, rich mane.
Her stature was a little tall for her time and place. Her strikingly shapely frame carried an unusual degree of strength from clambering with her brothers on the crags which overlooked her home town of Pendennis, Devonshire, and the ruins of ancient Pendennis Castle which stood atop the highest point. The family had moved there from Cornwall many years ago, when Wilfred became the captain of a merchant ship owned by Pendennis’ most prominent family, the Bolithos.
Her five brothers’ ships were all home ported at Pendennis, as was the ship her father had purchased three years ago with his savings. She had also clambered about the rigging of ships with her brothers, beginning when she had only been walking unaided for a few weeks. Leelee was as at home on a ship in a shrieking gale as she was in her own family living room.
This powerfully attractive woman had forborne to accept any of the many offers of marriage that came her way, preferring to become her father’s assistant. She handled his correspondence and numerical calculations with far greater ease and grace than he was able to. She had accompanied him on his last trading voyage to the Far East as supercargo, in charge of the trade negotiations that had racked up profits far beyond her father’s modest expectations.
Wilfred doted on his only girl child, and indulged her wishes rather than insisting that she wed, as most girls her did before reaching her current age of 25. Leelee had promised her adored father that when they returned from the voyage they were now on, she would at least begin to seriously consider some of her flock of suitors.
Leelee referred to them frequently as either a flock, implying that they were sheeplike, or as a gaggle, implying that they were a bunch of silly geese. It was not mere conceit on her part to regard them as unworthy of her. Her parents and brothers all agreed with that assessment.
The keenly intelligent beauty stood five foot three inches tall, and carried a firm fleshed and very fetching 10 stone. She had a classic hourglass figure, with womanly hips and ample breasts promising delight to the man who should prove lucky enough to change her mind about marriage.
The off the shoulder tavern wench dresses she liked to wear revealed a sparse scattering of freckles across her shoulders and the upper part of her back. These matched in color the finer ones that made her nose and cheeks even prettier.
All that climbing had given her very strong thighs and calves, which her father’s sailors sometimes glimpsed when she was up in the rigging. When on a ship at sea, as now, she wore sturdy slippers which she could easily kick off to go aloft, and as easily step back into when she returned to the deck. Her sea chest was well supplied with spare sets of stockings, because climbing the shrouds and ratlines would frequently shred the ones she wore.
Her feet were short and a bit wide, with straight toes of uniform length and notably high arches. Her voyaging stockings were specially made; the stout cotton fabric was reinforced across the entire expanse of the bottoms and toes. The reinforcement was a double thickness of woolen, woven with the lanolin left in to resist soaking better.
This design protected the skin of her soles very well. The combination of cushioning against abrasion and the lanolin that seeped through the inner layer of cotton weaving kept the skin there soft, smooth and supple despite her fearless excursions up the masts.
In this year of 1809, the wars of the French Revolution had been raging for ten years. The Royal navy controlled any stretch of ocean they chose to, but they could not be everywhere at all times. On this trip, the merchant vessel carried a dozen six pounder cannon and a pair of nine pounders mounted as chase pieces at the stern.
It was true that the privateers licensed by France were usually armed more heavily, but the well known superiority of British sailors over their French rivals, plus Wilfreds outstanding seamanship, gave father and daughter confidence that they had little to fear from such seagoing pests. American privateers might have been a different matter, but the war against the rebels of those former colonies had ended many years ago.
The outcome might not have been all that was desired, but at least that war was over. Oddly enough, due to an undeclared war which had broken out over high-handed French treatment of American ships, circumstance had made allies of the former rebels and their erstwhile opponents. However temporary that situation might prove, it certainly held true now.
Mies Van Der Gelb was an American of Dutch descent. He was the chief ally and friend of the infamous Franco-American pirate Jean Lafitte, sharing his fortified home island of Barataria off the Louisiana coast as well as his piratical profession. The styles of the two pirate chieftains, both personal and professional, were very different.
Lafitte’s stronghold, on the southern side of the most northeasterly point of Barataria, was a sprawling city of just over five thousand souls. Some nineteen hundred of these were crewmen or officers of Lafitte’s flotilla of twenty seven pirate ships, varying in size from three masted square riggers the size of a small frigate to single masted cutters with fore and aft rigs. The smaller vessels predominated.
The town, called Port Royale, was lightly defended by a palisade with a fighting step, and wooden blockhouses at the corners. Each blockhouse was armed with four light cannon, mostly four pounders, while the harbor mouth was commanded by two gun batteries built of earth filled gabions [huge wicker baskets], one to either side of the entrance. Each battery held sixteen heavy 18 pounders.
Van Der Gelb’s headquarters was an actual fort, modern in plan, built to his design and under his supervision. It stood on a hill overlooking a bay on the northern side of the most southwesterly point of the island.
This was a large hexagonal structure. The six curtain walls were each three hundred feet long, and each corner was defended by a bastion in the style of the French master military engineer Vauban. The walls were of carefully dressed and laid stone, quarried in upstate New York and brought down by ship.
Knowing that walls of raw stone could not withstand bombardment by modern naval artillery, Van Der Gelb had the outside of each wall and bastion covered by a massive eight yard depth of rammed earth, covered with heavy sod and supported by retaining dikes at the bottom. This was to prevent the earth from washing away in the rain.
Five of the curtain walls faced water, either the open sea, the harbor, or the passage between. These walls were each armed with twelve twenty four pounder guns behind iron shuttered casemates. The six bastions were each four sided. All the sides of four of them, and two sides of each of the other two, also faced water.
Each water-facing bastion side was defended by two massive forty eight pounder guns, in barbette mounts so they could cover wider arcs of fire. The curtain wall and the remaining two sides of two bastions faced the only land approach to the site. This approach was further defended by a large, arrowhead shaped redan, constructed the same way as the fort proper, but lower.
The approach road snaked around the right hand corner of the redan and then back to the gate at the center of the main wall. Intended to stand off a possible land attack by regular troops, this side had more but lighter guns.
The long redan held eighteen twelve pounders in embrasures. The curtain wall behind it was armed with twelve casemated eighteen pounders, while the wall walk above carried sixteen twelve pounder howitzers. Each of the four land facing bastion faces held three casemated twenty four pounder cannon while the fighting platforms of the bastions supported three barbette mounted thirty two pounder carronades per bastion side.
The ground behind the land side of the fort had a row of twelve eight inch mortars, each in a deep mortar pit. A large hatch in the center of the fighting platform of each land side bastion could be removed to allow a pair of massive thirteen inch siege mortars to fire from each position.
Van Der Gelb had named his mighty fortress Joyous Gard, after the legendary castle of Sir Launcelot. To take it would require a large fleet, a large army, and several years. A dozen regular warships with a regiment of infantry to supplement their marines could storm Port Royale in a matter of days.
In Lafitte’s city, He dwelt in a palace. His captains lived in mansions, and his mates and men found lodgings in the city as they chose and were able. Van Der Gelb’s single crewmen each had a private room in the structures of the curtain walls and bastions. Married crewmen and single mates had multi room apartments near their men.
The center of Joyous Gard was occupied by a hexagonal three story citadel. The ground floor and basements held magazines, store rooms, dining halls for the crew and the mates. The second floor held sumptuous apartments for the captains of the six large and powerful ships of Van Der Gelb’s squadron. The entire third floor was his personal quarters.
While the best armed vessel of Lafitte’s force, his personal command and flagship, was a twenty eight gunner, most of his ships mounted from twelve to eighteen guns, and nine of them were cutters with from six to ten guns each. Van Der Gelb had purchased the plans of the new, large frigates just built for the U.S. Navy. His two largest vessels were bastard sister ships to the mighty forty four gunned U.S.S. Constitution. The other four were scaled down versions of the same plans, bearing thirty two guns each.
Unlike Lafitte, Van Der Gelb included a force of Pirate Marines on each ship, and a company to man the fort if all the ships were out. He commanded just as many men as Lafitte, with less than one fourth as many ships. With careful design making excellent use of the space in his multi leveled fort, Van Der Gelb’s nineteen hundred men lived in great comfort and clean, healthy conditions with the twelve hundred dependants of the married among them. Lafitte’s similar number dwelt amid far less comfort, cleanliness and health in their sprawling city where only Lafitte’s palace and the mansions of the captains rose above a single story.
As for Mies Van Der Gelb himself, he was in many ways similar to his fortress and his great warships. He was huge, at six feet and an inch towering over most men of his time. He was massive, powerful, a presence at once reassuring to friends and daunting in the extreme to foes.
Although he could wear the most elegant of clothing with aplomb and flair when the occasion suited, by choice he appeared on the deck of his flagship, the Hurricane, in a sleeveless broadcloth shirt of light blue. He thus displayed muscled arms the size of a normal man’s legs, or of a small woman’s waist. He wore thick-woven cloth bands at forehead and wrists to absorb sweat when in the tropics. The forehead band also prevented his dense mane of rich, chestnut brown hair, otherwise worn loose, from falling forward into his eyes.
His eyes were a similar chestnut brown color, described by his foes as burning with an unholy fire. His full moustache flowed down around his wide mouth to join his even fuller beard. His face was ruggedly handsome enough that many women in the ports around the Caribbean dreamed of it by night, or fantasized about it by day.
He exuded a powerful, raw masculinity which affected both men and women; women were inexorably drawn to it as moths to a flame, while men were intimidated or cowed by it. This was a true alpha male, unquestioned leader of his seagoing pack of wolves.
The Scarwid family merchant vessel was named the Maryam Scarwid, the married name of Wilfred’s late first wife, and the mother of Leelee’s three older brothers. It was eighteen days into the voyage, a fine day in late spring. The wind came from just the north east at twelve knots, providing a good turn of speed to a vessel headed due south under sail.
The Maryam had started by heading southwest from Pendennis until she had gained enough westing to clear the headlands of Portugal, Spain and the bulge of West Africa. Now she was heading due south until that bulge was dead abeam. Then, she would change heading to south by southeast and stop in at the South Africa colony to take on fresh water and vegetables.
The masthead lookout called out a man-o-war approaching from just south of east. Wilfred held his course, the best heading to take full advantage of the current wind direction. When the masthead called down that the vessel was a frigate flying the Union Jack, Wilfred assumed it to be flying false colors because of the direction it was coming from. There were French colonies there, and the Royal navy was not operating off those coasts at this time.
Wilfred was waiting for something he knew must happen in this part of the ocean. When Maryam made enough southing, the wind veered from northeasterly to just north of due east, a perfect wind for sailing due west. It would take them far off the most direct course, but he was sure the approaching frigate was a Frenchman, and did not want to be captured.
As soon as they saw Maryam take a sharp tack to starboard, the French knew the deception had failed. They hauled down the Union Jack and hoisted their true colors, the Tricolor of the French Republic. They also set every sail they possessed, including inner and outer stu’n’s’ls port and starboard.
As a merchant vessel, Maryam was not equipped with quadruple studdingsail yards and so could not reply in kind. As two days wore on, the distance between pursued and pursuer slowly closed. In mid-afternoon, the Frenchman opened fire from a pair of 12 pounder cannon, hauled around to serve as bow chasers.
As usual with Frenchmen, whose navy did not believe in spending the money for live fire target practice, the shots fell wide. An hour later, after the French had wasted twenty shots, Wilfred judged that the range had closed enough. Carefully laying both nine pounder stern chase guns himself, he ordered them fired in sequence.
The port side gun, fired first, tore a hole through the bigger ship’s courses, fore, main and after. The starboard gun struck the yardarm of the sp’ritmains’l, knocking it off the bowsprit to drag in the water and slow the ship down.
As the drag skewed the frigate to one side, Maryam’s lookout saw a signal hoist run up the other ship’s aftermast. The Frigate had two smaller vessels, converted captures with prize crews aboard, trailing her. They were far enough back that the lookouts at Maryam’s mastheads couldn’t see them, but close enough to clearly read the mother ship’s signals, especially with the aid of a glass.
Just before sundown, the mastheaders reported a pair of ketch-rigged sloops of war passing the frigate to either side and chasing Maryam. They also reported that the frigate had recovered and rehung the yardarm, and rigged a new sail. Then the sun set.
Wilfred tried every trick of seamanship he had learned in 35 years at sea, but the other three vessels were, by design, all faster sailors. The next morning’s sun rose to reveal a dire situation. The frigate was still too far back to resume shooting, but her speedy consorts were nearly abeam of Maryam to port and starboard, too far distant for the merchanter’s smaller guns to reach.
The chase went on through yet another night. The next morning’s sunrise, the fourth of the chase, revealed that the pair of twenty gun sloops had reached positions ahead of Maryam to port and starboard. They were far enough in the lead to angle in and cut her off.
As soon as that fact was evident. The pursuing frigate, which had deliberately avoided catching up, cracked on all sail and began to close the distance quickly. With a deep sigh of resignation, Wilfred struck his flag, and gave the orders for the crew to heave to and furl the sails.
The three French controlled vessels surrounded Maryam. They took off her crew, including Wilfred and Leelee. The group of four ships resumed sailing west, now in close company. Maryam’s crew were confined in the holds of the three Frenchmen. Wilfred and Leelee shared a cabin under the quarterdeck of the French frigate, whose name they now knew was Bellerophon.
After another few days, they arrived at an island in the French Windward group, and sailed into a deep bay. The bay was filled with captured vessels. There was a village of tents on a low ridge of sandy clay that rose above the harbor.
The day after they arrived, the least valuable of the captured ships sailed away to the south. It was carrying a load of the crews of captured ships, who would be left on a desolate shore somewhere in South America.
Up on the ridge, the captains of taken ships shared a tent. The relatively few female captives shared another. Leelee was allowed to see her father for several hours every day, which was a great comfort.
A week later, the Bellerophon was about to depart to take more prizes when a lookout, standing on the highest point of the ridge, called out that a ship was approaching from the northwest. As the day progressed, the information was updated.
It was a large ship. It was three masted and square rigged. By the hull design, it looked like one of the large, fast merchant ships the New Englanders in America had started to launch. The Bellerophon’s crew took her out to challenge the stranger.
Leelee and her father, each with their own spyglass, took their stand together just below the peak where the lookout stood. The stranger’s armament or lack thereof could not be discerned. Her hull was painted a uniform black, making the gunports, if any, impossible to distinguish.
At first sight of Bellerophon, the stranger hoisted the flag of the Batavian Republic, once known as Holland, until conquered by Revolutionary France.
Bellerophon closed, intending to exchange news and commandeer supplies.
As the Dutch flagged stranger turned to keep it’s distance, Bellerophon hoisted the Tricolor and a signal to approach and speak. The stranger behaved very oddly. She maintained course until she had passed well to the east of Bellerophon, then came about and ran down on the Frenchman at speed, with the wind on her quarter. At the same time the stranger hauled down the Dutch flag and hoisted a strange banner.
Leelee, whose eyes were keener than those of her aging father, described the odd heraldry; “The field is yellow. The main charge is a mailed fist in blue clutching the haft of a black short handled sledge hammer, which has just cracked the crown of a white skull.”
Wilfred blanched. “I know that banner! That’s the Pirate Prince! That is Mies Van Der Gelb!”
“Surely a mere pirate will not dare to fight with a forty gunned frigate, father?”
“This one will. Watch and see. Four years gone, THIS pirate came upon the aftermath of our great victory at Cape Trafalgar, and took the Spanish eighty gun liner La Rata Encoronada!”
“Well, wasn’t the Spaniard damaged by our ships of the line?”
“Nay, my girl. That eighty gunner was flag of the van, and was one of the seven that fled without ever engaging. She became separated from her consorts in the night. The day after, Van Der Gelb came upon her, closed in, crossed her stern, raked her three times with full broadsides and took her by boarding. He towed her to Maracaibo in Venezuela and sold her to the rebels against the Spanish crown. Guns, powder, shot and all. They paid him by filling his holds with Inca Gold, hot peppers and vanilla beans. These he took back to New Orleans and resold for easily thirty times the worth of the ship he traded for the cargo.”
“He sounds like a truly remarkable man for a pirate, father. He seems to have courage and sagacity, qualities seldom found among such men.”
“Indeed, such is his repute. He his said to be quite handsome in his person, although far too muscular for gentility. They say he quite the gallant among ladies.”
Leelee, wearing a secret little smile which her engrossed father could not see, murmured; “So I have heard said. So I have heard.”
Out on the ocean, the Bellerophon had cleared for action. Her captain had worn ship and was running back toward the harbor, quartering the wind. The pirate was heading straight for her. Leelee said; “ He will be raked by the bow unless he turns very soon!”
Her father replied grimly; “If what I have heard of his vessel is true, that will do him little harm. Then he will do fearful execution upon the French.”
For most ships in those days, the bow and stern were weak points. A cannonball striking in either of those places would easily smash through the thinner wood of the structures there and whistle down the length of the ship’s interior, dismounting cannon and killing crew. Van Der Gelb’s ships had been built to the plans of the U.S.S. Constitution, yet to earn her nickname of Old Ironsides .
The planking and ribs, all that there was of a normal ship’s structure, were in these vessels backed by diagonal brace beams throughout the length of the hull, quadrupling the strength of the sides. The bow and stern were built up from laboriously steamed and bent, massive beams of Oak, layer upon layer, until they were actually stronger by far than the sides.
Sure enough, as Bellerophon passed in front of Hurricane’s oncoming bow, each pair of upper and lower deck guns lashed out together. Ten times, a twelve pound ball above and a twenty four pound ball below flew in tandem across the narrowing gap of water, only to ricochet harmlessly off the massive, resilient Oak timbers of Hurricane’s bow.
As this took place, Hurricane’s crew took in all sails except for a small triangular jib at the bow, a topsail on each mast and a small spanker at the stern for steerage way. Then the Hurricane was sailing past Bellerophon’s stern, a mast of glass windows and thin wooden slat frames. Now, Van Der Gelb gave the order to run out the guns.
As the concealed ports, twelve on each of two decks on Hurricane’s port side alone, sprang open as one, the rumble of her heavy artillery running out could be clearly heard on the heights of the island. Still peering through her distance glass, Leelee’s jaw dropped. She squeaked; “What ARE those things, daddy? They look monstrous!”
“That ship, my dear, is a 44 gunner. More to the point, she bears twenty four twenty four pounder long guns on her upper gun deck, while her lower gun deck carries twenty four forty eight pounders short barreled cannon. The fact is, that pirate throws more weight of metal in a single broadside than one of our seventy four gun ships of the line. Eight hundred thirty four pounds versus seven hundred two.”
At that moment, Hurricane’s port battery opened fire by sections. Each section consisted of four guns on each deck, and they fired as their ship’s forward progress brought them to bear. Seeing the way the tongues of flame emerging from the mouths of the cannon splayed widely to the sides, Wilfred exclaimed; “My Lord! Those guns are double, no triple shotted! Triple, by God! Canister over grape over ball, or I miss my guess!. This single broadside will turn Bellerophon into a charnel house!”
And so it was. The canister in this case was an open fronted can of thin tin, holding forty eight pounds or twenty four pounds of musket balls. Grape shot was a wood and leather stand holding enough four ounce balls to make up the shot weight for the gun it was to be fired from. Ball meant just that; a solid iron ball weighing twenty four pounds for an upper deck gun or forty eight for one of the lower deck monsters.
The steering ropes were cut, the wheel carried away, and the crew virtually pureed by the hurricane of shot unleashed from the Hurricane’s guns. Van Der Gelb wore ship, and poured a double shotted broadside of canister over grape into Bellerophon’s shredded stern from Hurricane’s starboard battery as she passed. Then, he put his helm hard over and came along Bellerophon’s port side.
If any of the French crew were still alive to serve the guns that had not been dismounted in the barrage, they had not had time to reload yet. Pirate marines in Hurricane’s tops poured a flood of well aimed rifle fire and blasts from one or two pound swivel guns down at anything moving on the Bellerophon’s weather decks. There was no return fire, because Bellerophon’s masts had all come down at Hurricane’s first broadside.
The pirate crew grappled at bow and stern, and swarmed across. The handful of survivors who tried to resist was slain in minutes. Cutting her grapples free, Hurricane sailed on into the harbor, leaving a prize crew of sixty on board Bellerophon to cut away debris, raise sail on the stumps of masts still standing, and bring her into harbor.
Seeing their ship conquered, the crewmen who had been left ashore to guard the prisoners went wild. They broke into the stored barrels of brandy, and, thoroughly drunk, poured up the hill towards the women’s tent.
The sea captains saw this. Summoning the relatively few captured sailors remaining on the island, they armed themselves with tent poles, cooking utensils, roasting spits and whatever else they could lay hands on. Some had only rocks. They prepared to defend the women’s tent.
Scanning the encampment ashore through his glass, Van Der Gelb saw the tide of drunken French sailors flowing up the hill, then saw it’s destination at the top. He called the hand to hand fighting specialists of the ship’s boarding party to man the longboat and launch, and stood in the bow of the launch as they rowed ashore as fast as they could.
Beaching both boats, they sped in the wake of the drunken mob, Mies in the lead. Arriving on the hilltop, he took in the situation at a glance. The captured sailors, mostly from the Maryam, along with the captains of the prizes, were desperately trying to hold off the drunkards. Several had already fallen to the pistols, cutlasses and boarding pikes of the crewmen off the Bellerophon.
As soon as a half dozen of his boarders had come up alongside him, Mies bellowed; “CHARGE!!”
With a boarding pike, normally a two handed weapon, in his right hand and a cutlass in his left Mies cut a swath through the Bellerophon’s crew. He took a stand in the entrance to the tent and stood them off while his deadly boarders closed on them from behind. In less than two minutes, not one was standing.
The women emerged from the tent, seeking the men they knew from the ships they had been captured on. Ascertaining that her father was unharmed beyond bruises, Leelee looked at their rescuers and her attention was instantly caught by the looming mass of Mies. She saw that he was bleeding from several cuts and tended them.
Mies, for his part, could not take his eyes off of Leelee. He thought she was simply the loveliest woman he had ever seen, and he admired her aplomb and competence in the odd situation. The captives all were aware that their ‘rescuers’ were pirates, and were not at all sure what their status would now be.
Over the next few days, all the ships were repaired and made ready for sea. Mies wanted Leelee more than he had ever wanted anything in his life. He came up with a plan to have her.
On the next to last evening Mies drew Leelee aside, and asked her to walk down the shore with him, away from the fires of the camp. She assumed that he meant to try to make love to her. She was not all sure how she felt about that, and, still undecided, she went with him.
Once they had gone far enough to insure privacy he turned to face her; “Miss Lorelei, I have a decision to make. I will leave the final choice to you; if you accept the bargain I am about to offer, the choice will be made one way, if not it will go another. The crux of the matter is that I do not have enough crew to man all the ships I have here, and I also need to send the captive sailors who have chosen not to join me on their way.”
“I could just supply the smallest vessel for a journey to the nearest British colony and cram all the former captives onto it. But there is something I want which only you can give, and I wish to present you with a reason to give it.”
“What I want is you. You are thinking that I could simply take you. I could, but I have never in my life taken any woman without her consent, and I do not intend to start, now or ever. So, I make you this offer. The ship I shall choose not to take with me will be the Maryam. More, I shall leave her laden with all that she held when captured, plus fully provisioned as though you had left home port that morning. I shall place on board her your father, captain Wilfred, with her original crew entire, and any of the others whom your father may wish. Your father will continue his voyage to the east as if it had never been interrupted, and then return with his profits. All this, if and only if you willingly consent to go with me, to serve as my love slave.”
Leelee was stunned! She felt her heart begin to pound at the prospect of becoming this mighty man’s slave! She knew she should feel revulsion, but somehow felt only excitement and growing arousal. The more she contemplated the prospect, the more she wanted to say yes! But, what she did say was; “For ever? For the rest of my life?”
“That will depend. When your father takes Maryam to Cape Colony, I will take the rest of these vessels to Maracaibo in Venezuela. There I will sell Bellerophon to the rebels against Spain. From there we will go to British Honduras. Just at dawning I will send the other captains and all the other women ashore in a spare longboat. Thence we will return to Joyous Gard, my fortress in Louisiana.”
“Once at see, on his way, your father will find a letter in his cabin. It will instruct him to meet us at the Brazilian port of Pernambucco on his way home. The trading voyage he purposes will take him at least two years. We will meet him two years hence, in a port belonging to England’s ally, Portugal. On that day, if you choose, I will release you to return home with your father. Or, if I have succeeded in my plan, we will invite him to attend our wedding in Joyous Gard.”
Leelee stood breathless. It was so audacious, so gallant, so impossibly romantic! She suspected in her heart that if she said no, he would give her father his ship back anyway. She chose not risk being wrong. She agreed to the bargain offered by the handsome, irresistibly masculine pirate prince. She said yes.
The next day, as the Maryam sailed away to the east while the rest of the little flotilla tacked against the wind to the westward, Leelee noticed two things different about Maryam. The crew had been increased by sixteen more men, and Mies had upgraded her armament. The six pounder broadside guns had been replaced by nines, while the nine pounder chase pieces had been replaced with twelve pounder long guns. She concluded that Mies was in fact a kinder man than he wished people to believe.
As long as the other women and sea captains remained on board the Hurricane, Mies treated Leelee with strict propriety. On the morning that they dropped off the women and captains in a longboat, Mies reminded her that she was now his slave, for the next two years. He spent the day commanding his flotilla, while verbally and physically teasing her intermittently through the day.
By evening, Leelee was in a wholly unaccustomed state of excited anticipation. It was after dinner, with tropical sunset painting the western sky with a myriad colors. She was standing by the portside rail enjoying the sky. Mies walked up behind her and put his arms around her waist. She felt the hard masculinity of his body pressing up against her back, the massive power of his arms enclosing her torso. When he began to kiss her bare shoulder and the side of her neck, she shivered again and again with delight.
Shocked at her own daring, she turned her head and sought his lips with hers. His kiss was hard and passionate, and it seemed to set her on fire. Then she emitted a startled squeak; Mies had picked her up and tucked her under his left arm. Then he carried her down the after hatch to the captain’s spacious quarters in the stern.
With the door slammed behind them and the bar dropped, he stood her on a velvet covered pedestal and spun her around. As she turned, he tore a strip about two inches wide from the hem of her skirt. Leelee was surprised to say the least. When Mies used it to bind her wrists to a stout iron ring set into the deck beam over head she gasped. It forced her to stand on tiptoe.
Mies kissed Leelee again, then he pulled the bottom of her blouse out of the waistband of her skirt and pulled it up her arms past her head. Then he pulled up a chair, sat, and started to tickle her belly!
Of all the things Leelee had thought Mies might do to her, tickling had never even crossed her mind. As her lovely face bloomed into sweet, girlish giggles he wickedly grinned back. Both of his powerful hands played with her belly for several minutes, the touches feather light and teasing. She kept giggling and wiggling. To her amazement this tickling was turning her on like nothing else ever had!
Mies spun Leelee around and began firmly, but never harshly, digging his big fingers into her ribs. That made her laugh uncontrollably. She twisted and writhed, but couldn’t get away. He loved the sweet sound of her laugh, and the smooth softness of her skin. He decided to switch from prodding her ribs to running his hands up and down her shapely flanks.
Leelee was dancing around on her toes as she laughed and squirmed. Strangely, she was actually enjoying this. As she turned back around to where she could see Mies’ face again, it was clear that he was enjoying her helplessness at least as much as he was. Somehow, knowing that thrilled her.
His fingertips jumped to her widely displayed armpits. As they made leisurely circles around the edges, Leelee laughed and gyrated wildly. He whispered to her; “Oh yes, my little tickle slave. Oh, we are going to have so much fun together. I am going to tickle and tease every square inch of your beautiful body. What is that new measure the French invented? Ah, yes! Every single millimeter of your soft, smooth, feminine, and oh so ticklish skin.”
Then Mies leaned in and kissed her. It was a long, slow, deep kiss. As he kissed her, his fingers slid into the centers of Leelee’s defenseless armpits and started to scrabble there.
Leelee was trying her best to simply howl with helpless mirth, but his mouth over hers stifled the laughter and held it inside. Her beautiful, sexy body was writhing in sweet agony. Her level of arousal was climbing to levels that Leelee had never so much as imagined. The way that her laughter was being denied increased her feelings of helplessness. It made her feel incredibly submissive. It turned her on uncontrollably.
Breaking the kiss, Mies whispered again; “You love this torment, don’t you my tickle slave? It excites you. It fills you with a lust like nothing you have ever known. It drives you wild. It makes you feel submissive towards me, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. Soooo submissive. So helpless.”
“It makes you want to please me, doesn’t it? To serve me?”
“Yes. Yes, it does! Oh! Oh, no! Oh hooooooo hoohoohoo! Hahahaha!”
Leelee burst into laughter again as he started to tickle her lovely breasts. Mies was fascinated by the way her tender breasts felt in his hands. He tenderly, teasingly explored the soft flesh. Walking behind her he cupped her breasts in his palms while his fingertips tickled her fully erect, gently throbbing nipples.
He nuzzled the softness of her neck, nibbling at the sides while he tickled the sides and undersides of her breasts. He nibbled and licked her delicate, sensitive ears. Leelee howled with the wonderful, agonizingly tickle-erotic sensations. Then he repeated on her other ear.
Mies kissed her again. Another of those long, lingering, deep kisses that Leelee had already learned to love. While he continued that kiss, he began lighting tickling her throat. He could feel Leelee gurgling happily into his kiss.
When he started to tickle her under the chin, he could feel her luscious mouth happily, helplessly giggling under his. Oh, what a wonderful feeling, to have such control over this little beauty! She was simply intoxicating. Mies knew he must stay in control of himself. He might simply get carried away, and the last thing he wanted to do was to go too far. He knew that if he tickled her too long or hard, he could make this experience unpleasant for Leelee.
But that formed no part of his plan. No, Mies wanted Leelee to enjoy being tortured by him just as much as he enjoyed tormenting her. He wanted this delightful little creature to become addicted to his tickling. He wanted her to derive so much pleasure from his tickle torment that she would come to crave it as a drunkard craves his grog. In fact, what he wanted was for her to love him, as he was already beginning to love her. He had no idea how close he already was to succeeding.
Mies was entranced by the sound of Leelee’s wild, helpless laughter. Already, a sweet note of genuine joy was detectable in the sound. He judged it was time to back off just a bit, to make the tickling more playful and fun.
Mies sat back down in his chair. He grasped Leelee’s womanly hips and turned her so that her right side was turned to him. He slipped his hands into the waistbands of her skirt and her underclothes, and slipped them down to just above her knees.
Despite the situation she was already in, Leelee managed to blush at this sudden exposure of her most private of privates. Mies was delighted by this. He reached out his right hand and started to tickle her groin, from the waist down to just above her pubic hair.
Leelee giggled wildly and recoiled away from the soft, sexy tickle. His left hand was waiting behind her, and at once began tickling her firm, exquisitely shapely ass cheeks. She giggled again and her lovely wide hips involuntarily shot forward, instinctively seeking escape from the tickle. This brought her back into reach of his right hand, which instantly started to tickle her groin again.
Mies soon had her caught in a sexy, undulating rhythm. He loved to watch her gyrate back and forth. She looked down at his devastatingly handsome face, and the rapt enjoyment she saw there warned her inside. She was actually happy, which shocked her.
Mies leaned in and gave her a tongue tickling right in her bellybutton. She screamed in delight, and laughed again. He repeated the playful attack. Then he left his tongue in Leelee’s inny, playing wickedly with the sensitive flesh.
He leaned back again, and resumed the teasing front and back tickles. But now Mies moved his hands slowly closer together, until they were both in contact at the same time, tickling her groin and buttocks at the same time.
Leelee was deeply confused. Why, oh why was she enjoying this so much? Tell the truth, why was she loving it? She only knew that she was. She was turned on and happy, and being driven slowly crazy by the relentless tickling.
Her sex mound was very wet, practically dripping with the lubrication of her uncontrollable arousal. The tip of her erect clit was beginning to peek out from under the small hood of flesh that normally hid it. Mies moved his hands to the backs of her thighs and began tickling there. Leelee continued to giggle. She shivered in sheer delight.
Mies leaned forward and softly blew on the head of her clit. Then he did it again, and again. Each slow, warm breath made her shiver more than ever, while his hands on the backs of her thighs kept her giggling. Leelee wanted him sooo much! Oh, god, she wanted this powerful man to just take her!
Mies jumped his hands down to the soles of her feet, which remained unprotected because of her tiptoes position. That tickled so much that Leelee just screamed, and then jerked both feet up and away. Mies, alarmed, bolted up from his chair and caught her around the waist before her suddenly unsupported weight could deliver a painful jerk to her shoulders.
The feel of that powerful, sinewy left arm holding her up while his right hand untied the strip of cloth around her wrists was so good. It made her feel safe and protected. This time, it was Leelee who initiated the kiss.
As Mies set Leelee down on her bare feet, she held the kiss. She stepped out of her skirt and underthings. As soon as her wrists were free, she began to unbutton his shirt, tearing at the fabric in a frenzy.
Grinning tolerantly, Mies helped Leelee take his shirt off. She went for his waistband next. God, how she wanted him! This time he stopped her. Seizing her by the hips, he lofted her and tossed her onto the bed.
Unlike most shipboard beds, this one was sprung with woven three inch wide leather straps under the mattress. When Leelee landed on it, the leather gave and then rebounded, bouncing her into the sir not once but twice.
By the time the bouncing stopped, Mies was on the bed straddling her torso. She thrilled to the sensation of his muscular thighs squeezing her flanks. He was letting her know without words that although he enjoyed her exuberance, he was the one who would always be in charge, in control, never her.
Using the same strip of cloth from her skirt, Mies secured Leelee’s wrists once again, to a leather covered ring set in the wall above the pillows at the center of the head of his bed. There were two more rings, one near each edge of the bed, each with a stout strap of softly tanned leather attached to it.
Grasping Leelee’s ankles, Mies doubled her over and fastened each ankle with one of the straps, so that her feet were held widely apart with her ankles alongside her forearms.. He stood back up and swiftly discarded his shoes, pants and stockings. Leelee stared hungrily at his muscular legs and his rampant masculinity. She licked her lips. Not a virgin and no stranger to desire, she had never wanted any man so badly.
Leelee was ready to take him inside her. She had been for some time. In fact she was eager. She murmured; “Oh, yes, yes my darling one, yes!”
Climbing back onto the bed, Mies leaned forward and guided himself into Leelee. She had never made love in a position like this one. The feel of his solid, muscled torso against the backs and insides of her thighs felt lovely! His manhood inside her was touching and pressing right on her internal pleasure spot. His unusual thickness was moving her flesh in exactly the right way to send bursts of pleasure from her clit.
Then Mies started to tickle her ankles! She giggled and squirmed, and each happy squirm sent additional bolts of pleasure from her clit and her spot. She realized that he knew exactly what he was doing to her, and relaxed to happily enjoy her helplessness. Somehow, this feeling of being completely defenseless and at his mercy made everything better, nicer, sweeter.
He started to tickle her calves, and Leelee giggled and squirmed harder. Her calf muscles jumped and twitched. Her thighs writhed eagerly against his body. Oh yes, this was good! He would soon make her climax, she knew. She could feel it building inside.
When Mies began tickling the backs of her knees Leelee burst into laughter. Her hips bucked and thrusted, quite involuntarily. After a minute or so this, Leelee was right on the edge of an orgasm. Mies leaned forward, bringing his hard chest into contact with her nipples and the undersides of her breasts.
Just as her orgasm started to break loose, he reached up and started to scrabble his fingertips over the soles of her helpless bare feet. Hysterical laughter exploded from her wide open mouth, and she came.
Oh, how Leelee came! Long and intense and powerful, this climax seemed to go on far, far longer than usual. All while she laughed and writhed in hysteria. Her pleasure peaked, and began to subside. Then Mies changed the angle of his fingertips, scratching the skin of her soles ever so lightly with his nails.
Oh, lord, that tickled so bad! Or so good? She could feel another climax building up in her gut, and she welcomed it. “Yes!” She thought; “This was what the tickling was all about! Making her cum so hard! Yes!”
She came again with a happy scream. Mies quickly kissed her, and started to play with her toes! Oh that was too much! It tickled so horribly! Leelee’s pretty toes frantically wiggled and twitched, flexing and scrunching and trying to escape the delectable, unbearable sensations. All the while she twisted and shrieked in her helpless joy, cumming again as he tormented her tender toes.
Leelee thought that heard Mies say; “My turn!”
He started to scrabble those teasing, tickling, tormenting fingertips right in her arches! Her high, soft, smooth, desperately sensitive arches! Her body convulsed in deafening guffaws as she roared with forced mirth! When he stifled her laughter by kissing her mouth, Leelee came for the forth time, and that triggered Mies climax. She felt his whole body stiffen and thrust as he came. She felt his roar of triumphant pleasure explode into his still held kiss. She felt his manhood pulse and pump a flood of his joy into her!
Knowing that she had now given him pleasure, as he had for her, set her off into another peak before that prior one had even ended. Mies quickly unwrapped the bonds that were holding her ankles and wrists.
Mies changed Leelee’s position. He slid a drawer in the bed base open, and pulled out two sets of unequal doubler cuffs. The larger cuff of each set went around the upper middle of one of Leelee’s thighs. The smaller one, attached to the back of each thigh cuff, held the ankle of the same leg so that the heel touched the crease where the thigh met the buttock.
The straps which had held Leelee’s ankles the first time were now used to fasten her wrists to the side rings at the head of the bed. Mies lay on his back with Leelee on top of him face down. She thought; “Oh! This is interesting!”
Then she felt the fact that Mies, although he had just climaxed, was still hard. Now she thought; “Well! This is VERY interesting!”
Then he was tickling her sides again, more roughly than before, his fingertips probing the lines of her ribs and between them. She laughed raucously and happily writhed on top of him. The harder she laughed and the more desperately she wriggled, the more she could feel him responding by growing longer and harder.
When Mies began lightly, surface pinching her armpits the tickling sensations flooding Leelee’s nerves grew far more intense. So did her helpless response. Realizing that her reactions to the tickling were driving Mies’ arousal, she made a conscious decision to let go of what relatively little self control she had left.
Leelee deliberately let her laughter go wild and totally out of control. She no longer made any attempt to control her body, letting it quiver, shiver, writhe and squirm in defenseless ticklish ecstasy. She felt a sense of satisfaction though her happy torment, feeling her man’s enjoyment of his total control of her, reading it clearly in his face. Soon, Mies grabbed her gyrating hips, positioned her and slid himself into her.
Leelee was loving it. Her emotions and body were glowing with sheer pleasure. In this position, the delightful friction on her internal hot spot was even more wonderful, the rubbing of her clit against his groin even hotter and sweeter.
Leelee was right on the brink of a climax, when all of a sudden his big hands came down, one on each buttock, in a resounding double smack! The sound startled her and made her jump, and the sudden jolts of sensation made her cum very hard! Mies let both hands remain on her firm butt cheeks, kneading and squeezing them first, and then tickling them, making her giggle and squirm till she came again, this time he kissed her just before she climaxed and held the kiss till she peaked and subsided.
Once again, Leelee heard Mies whisper; “My turn.”
Her eyes opened wide and she stared at him from inches away, noting the wicked grin on his face. She gulped in mock fear. Then Leelee felt Mies lift his hands off of her buttocks, and all of sudden his nails were maddening teasing the heels of both of her feet.
Leelee, nerves hypersensitized by her many orgasms, simply went wild. It tickled SO BAD! But it still felt sooooo good! Every movement of her desperately ticklish body caused still more of that delicious friction on her two pleasure spots.
Mies kept on tickling Leelee’s heels till she came again. Then he tickled the more sensitive balls of her feet until she climaxed again. Then he tormented the flats of her soles until the more intense tickling sensation there brought her off again.
Leelee was caught on a feedback loop. Every climax seemed to make her more ticklish, and each increase in ticklishness seemed to make her next orgasm bigger and better! Now her fiendish owner/lover was slowly, agonizing stroking her foot bottoms.
Mies poised the five fingers of each hand on the corresponding foot just below the bases of the toes, then drew them slowly down over the balls and across the flats to the heels, deliberately avoiding the arches, then paused and went back up again. Leelee had never been tickled like this before, and she loved it. As her laughter and movements got more extreme, Mies stepped up the speed of the strokes till she climaxed again.
As soon as this latest orgasm peaked, he at once began toying with her toes again. “Oh God, this is too much!” Leelee thought; “I’m just too ticklish for this!”
But the tickling continued. The wild enjoyment continued. Mies played with Leelee’s frantically flailing toes, teasing the pads, the stems, the tips, and the exquisitely tender spots between her toes until he felt her climax again.
Then he went back to those awful, slow strokes, only this time all ten of his fingertips were right on Leelee’s arches, the most ticklish spots she possessed.
Within seconds, he had his poor slave at that desperate stage where she tries just as hard as she can to laugh, but no sound can emerge, only air. As the truly unbearable tickling sensations overwhelmed her, she found herself caught in what seemed to her to be single, endless climax. A climax that went on and on, and which would never, could never end until Mies, her beloved, decided to stop those terrible, unendurable ticklish caresses on her arches!
Then Leelee felt Mies reaching his own mighty climax again, and it carried her pleasure aloft to a new level. It seemed as if she felt his pleasure as well as her own, and as if he could feel her joy and pleasure on top of his. It was a whole new sensory realm, and she was lost in the wonder of it.
Then they subsided and started to drift back to earth. Mies unbound his Leelee and tossed the bonds aside. Leelee threw her limbs around him, squeezing possessively. She rubbed her tingling arches on the rocklike hardness of his calves. She kneaded those powerful muscles of his with her fingers and toes. She reveled in every bit of contact, every touch and squeeze and kiss. So did he.
That night Mies and Lorelei made love again, three more times before morning. Each time, he tied her and tickled her, than took her. Each time she eagerly held out her lissome limbs to be bound, wiggled invitingly to be tickled.
The two years passed like a dream of happiness. When they met with Leelee’s father Wilfred and the Maryam at Pernambucco, it was to show him their wedding rings and their newborn son. Lorelei happily informed her father that they were married, that they loved each other, and that she was his forever.
In a private conversation, Mies informed Wilfred that he and his squadron were no longer playing pirate, instead carrying lucrative, high value cargoes in dangerous parts of the world. Because the six private warships formed a force that few dared challenge, each voyage now was nearly as profitable as the piratical ventures had been. The perils, of course, were far less.
After holding a great celebration ashore, the family parted and all went home happy. Wilfred to Pendennis, Devonshire, England, content that his adored daughter had found her true love. Mies and Lorelei to their fortress home of Joyous Gard, now truly joyous for both of them.
Next voyage, Wilfred would bring his wife with him. Mies and all his flotilla would meet them at Maracaibo, so that Lorelei could assure her mother that she was well, and show her her grandson. Then they would travel in company to the Indies to trade.
The End.
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