Lesbian Captain’s Orders

The pirates took over the convict ship on her sixth day out of Dartmouth, bound for Virginia. Under cover of darkness, they came alongside and had disposed of the captain and crew before the few passengers on board were awake enough to know what was going on. Then, as the convicts were freed to join the newly triumphant crew, the cabins were ransacked and the unfortunate passengers dispatched – with the exception of two.

These two, the pirate leader, a swarthy Brazilian named Madrinos, who might once have been handsome but for a scar across his face and a tooth-gapped grin, ordered to be kept for his own unusual pleasure. As the two young female survivors were thrown together into the hold and secured for the remainder of the night, they wondered what lay in store for them. They feared the worst.

The two were both exceptionally beautiful young women from opposite ends of the social spectrum, and like most young ladies who acknowledge and appreciate attention of their good looks and eye-catching figures, they had vied for the attentions of those men of the crew on the journey to date.

Hence Miss Rosalyn Spencer, a proud but bountifully blessed daughter of a magistrate (now suddenly deceased) had little love for Charity Hart, a London girl of doubtful parentage who, with little more than the gifts God had given her of a firm bust and a pretty, blonde-framed face, had set out to seek her fortune in a land she now doubted she would ever see.

Their fates were revealed to them in the early morning. “You’re to fight each other on the main deck, for the pleasure of the cap’n!” announced a huge negro who had unlocked the hold. “Be up in five minutes. The winner stays on board till we reach land – the loser dies or goes over the side. So make no mistake – this is for your lives. An the cap’n doesn’t like his women over-dressed!”

And he was gone. Stunned, the two girls looked at each other. They didn’t like each other, but – strangely the high born redhead recovered first. Slipping out of her expensive dress she said, “If that’s it, then you better start praying – our blacksmith’s daughter taught me how to fight, and I don’t aim to lose!”

And before Charity’s startled gaze, the buxom young woman stripped off to her sleeveless chemise and knee length knickers, without a blush. Her head spinning, Charity noticed the swell of thc other girl’s full bosom and realised that she would have to put her young body and her knowledge of street fighting amongst the sluts of London to the ultimate test,

They emerged on deck, blonde and redhead, to find all the pirates assembled and a large area of the deck cleared. Similarly garbed, they faced each other. These men killed as a matter of course. Now they were to be the sport. Each woman was eyed appre ciatively, and many guineas were wagered. Then Madrinos from his vantage point on the poop deck, spoke, grinning and showing the black gaps in his teeth.

“Fight, you proud beauties! Fight for Your lives!” Nerves gripped at Charity’s stomach, but not so her co-passenger, now turned opponent. Rosalyn leapt at the blonde and suddenly hands gripped and tore into Charity’s long tresses. She squealed as the shapely redhead dragged her forward, pulling her head down. The pirates cheered as the once refined magistrate’s daughter flashed a lace-edged knee up into her opponent’s face, and the crunch of bone into flesh was sharp. So was the pain as Charity felt her nose crushed, and blood beginning to run from it. Frantically as her head split in dizzying pain she wrapped her arms around her rival’s waist and throwing herself for ward, sent them both crashing to the deck, herself bloodied but atop the other girl, who had suddenly become her most dangerous enemy. Furiously, they rolled over and over as the pirates excitement rose in volume. Rosalyn half-cuffed, half-punched Charity in the head and, belying her genteel up bringing sank her teeth into the blonde’s shoulder. Charity screamed and slapped and scratched at the slightly bigger, bustier girl’s face. Suddenly the redhead howled as her wild blonde rival tore her nails down her cheekbone bloodily.

They scrambled to their knees, and, remembering the blacksmith’s daughter, Miss Spencer punched her bare fist into the swell of the chemise where it covered Miss Hart’s left mound. Charity croaked at the sickening pain but returned the favour in the bigger breasts of the other woman. For several minutes the two gasping, sweating, girls, driven to ferocity by the thought of what would befall the one who should be the loser, slugged her bare knuckles into each other’s bodies, like male prizefighters. Unlike the men though, each aimed and scored viciously in the others highly vulnerable and outstanding bosom.

Gradually, through the torment, Charity sensed that the redhead’s shrieks were becoming more intensified, and the blonde found herself landing two to every one of her opponent’s blows to now mottled and bruised breast flesh. She was winning, but some sort of compassion made her desist and drag her tired, dirt-streaked body to it’s feet. Rosalyn sensed the relief and showed no gratitude. Swaying to her feet, she ripped open the blonde’s chemise exposing both breasts, as at the same time she used her knee again, this time driving it into Charity’s crotch.

As she clutched herself the blonde knew she mustn’t leave herself defenceless if she wanted to survive, but for a second she couldn’t help herself. Instead, the vicious, hate-crazed Rosalyn helped herself to two more bare knuckle blows into the swaying, bared breasts. Miss Spencer’s natural sadistic streak was in its element. She kicked out at this slut, this garbage that she would vanquish at any price – and caught in the stomach, Charity was knocked sprawling to the deck.

As the redhead loomed over her, showing Miss Hart none of what she was christened with, the blonde knew fear. It spurred her reactions. As Rosalyn dropped, aiming to drive knees first into the downed girl’s bosom, Charity rolled like a cat.

The big redhead slammed into the deck, bellowing in pain and frustrated rage, to the accompaniment of some laughter from the onlookers. With a wild fury and energy she was surprised she possessed, the blonde kicked both her feet into the side of the kneeling girl’s head, bringing the woman down to her elbows. Then the city-bred back street fighter wrapped her shapely legs around Rosalyn’s middle and squeezed, trapping the suddenly sobbing frightened woman. As the redhead writhed to her back, struggling frantically to free herself, Charity took hold of Rosalyn’s curly locks and banged the redheaded woman’s skull down against the deck. She felt her busty fellow passenger weaken in her resistance and knew the end was near. Ripping the woman’s chemise from her body, she unhooked her ankles, rose and hefore a groggy Miss Spencer knew what was happening, had lifted the bigger woman with one arm around her neck, the other between her thighs and slammed her down to the deck, which the shapely, now helpless rich girl hit, face first. She lay still, it was over!