Copyright 2010 Lusty Library. All Rights Reserved http://www.lustylibrary.com en-us Sat, 20 Mar 2010 01:04:27 -0400 webmaster@lustylibrary.com (TheLustyLibrarian) Contest Submissions:Pirates! http://www.lustylibrary.com/Stories/Contest_Submissions/Pirates!/Surrender_4972 Contest Submissions:Pirates! Fri, 25 May 2007 14:01:16 -0400
“Pirates!” The call bellowed down from the crow’s nest by the lookout was terror-filled, perfectly understandable considering the fact that the ship might as well have been dead in the water.With a broken mast and most of the canvas sails ripped to shreds by the storm they had barely survived two days ago, there was no hope of outrunning them. With only a skeleton crew, weakened by having only hard tack to eat, there was no chance of winning a fight with them, either. The captain could tell by the mutinous expression on Eve Davenport’s face that she was not going to go to her cabin and hide, so he turned back to giving orders to his men. Daring to make her own decisions and not let others, particularly the men in her family, decide her fate for her is what got her into this mess, but come what may, she would face it head on.They all watched silently as the massive vessel came closer, its black sails eclipsing the sun like an angry thundercloud, casting a shadow over everyone on deck. Surely they could see the condition the ship was in, and that there was no valuable cargo on board by how light in the water they were. What could they possibly want? Maybe they would just sail on past. The mighty runner slipped up along their starboard side, grappling hooks were thrown over, ...

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It was a muggy mid- June afternoon at Oaks Amusement Park. My "uniform" was making me sweat. The knee- high leather boots were clinging to my calves; the heavy skirt, bogged down with chains and my fake machete, kept sticking to my thighs; the bandana that kept my long auburn waves off my face was starting to itch. Working the pirate- themed 'Stormy Seas' ride had its perks, but the outfit, sexy though it may have been, wasn't one of them on a hot day. Two girls ran up to my booth, followed by a handsome man. "Avast ye scallywags!" I cried, and then to the man, "Three tickets?" I looked straight into his piercing green eyes and a wave of desire rolled over me. It had been so long since a man had touched me. I felt heat creeping up my neck as I pushed lustful thoughts out of my mind. "No, I'm sitting this one out," he replied. His eyes never left mine. The girls got in a boat. I pulled the lever to start the ride and then I was alone with him. His slightly shaggy hair was a deep chestnut brown. One of his muscular arms was covered in a beautiful tattoo of a boa constrictor wrapping down his arm, its head resting in his palm. His well- fitted jeans clung perfectly to his small ass. As my eyes traveled back up his body, I sensed him watching me and realized I'd been caught ogling him. A ...

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Matthew wandered the narrow lanes up from the docks. Against his parent's wishes he had been watching the boats dock and leave Boston Harbour. The heavily laden supply vessels limped into the harbour while the smaller vessels darted in and out of their paths. He watched the crews respond to the Captain's orders from his spot on the hill, and dreamt of the day he would command his own vessel. Of course, if his parents got their wish he would be a lawyer like his father and his father and so on. He oft complained to the visiting lecturer at Boston U about his parents and their tyrannical attitudes- on that point Benjamin Franklin railed forth on the petulance of youth and their impatience. So, for the most part Matthew kept his dreams to himself.Just then he passed the gallows erected to execute the bloodthirsty pirate William Fly- whose body hung in chains at the mouth to Boston Harbour as a warning to any other seaman foolish enough to try a privateer's life. Just then he heard the bell toll for last light and he accelerate down the narrow path, almost running into a group of gruff seaman making their way around the Bay. Thudding into the chest of one of them, he drew back in horror at the toothless snarl that greeted him."Ahoy lad, what is your rush?""Please sir, begging ya pardon but I have to be home," Matthew croaked as he saw too late a hand crash into his ...

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It was the noise that woke her. An odd creaking sound that was strangely soothing. Stretching out her arms, fingertips brushing the smooth wood of the headboard behind her. The rough fabric of the sheet brushed her nipples sending tingles through her body. Lazily she opened her eyes, staring up at the rough wooden boards of the ceiling above her, then sleepily closed them again. Suddenly realization dawned. “Huh?” Her ceiling should be white, a painted white ceiling. Something was definitely not right here. Taking a deep breath she gingerly opened one eye. Nothing had changed; there they were still, rough wooden boards. Slowly she sat up, taking in her surroundings. This was definitely not her bedroom. Instead it appeared to be the cabin of a ship, and judging by the furnishings and lack of light switches or anything electrical, it was not a modern one. “This is bizarre,” she thought. Suddenly the door burst open and in strode without a doubt the sexiest man she had ever seen. Tall, broad shoulders and a muscular chest. On his head a mass of dark curls. His square jaw accentuated by the stubble of day old growth. Tight breeches encased well-muscled thighs accentuating the outline of his manhood. He stopped, surprised to see her there, in what was obviously his bed. “Well, well…what have we here?” he said stopping to admire her. It was then she realized she was naked; the sheet had fallen to her waist. Piercing blue eyes smoldered with ...

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Analise quivered beneath him. He was everything she had longed for; strong and forceful, unafraid, stubborn even. The dark beauty had thought she would never know love. She’d never been touched by a man. Married off at a young age to a cad of a man who declared to her on their wedding night he had no interest in sharing a bed with such an inexperienced twit. She tried to remember how it felt when he had exited her bedchamber, slamming the door on her heart. But she had played the part of ice princess for too long. Years of suppressing her emotions had left her cold and nearly void of any real feelings. She had merely existed. Until now. Zain looked directly into her eyes, melting away years of hurt and pain. He seemed to want to pass along his strength to her, but she didn’t know how to accept it. She wrapped her arms stiffly around his neck, running her fingers through his windswept hair. He smiled down at her, taking in each movement she made with care. Their kisses were soft and gentle, she had never been as aware of her own nakedness. His skin was warm against hers, creating a tingly sensation all over. What were these feelings awakening inside her? They seemed to possess her entire body. Overwhelmed by them, she turned away. He cupped her chin with his hand, moving her to face him again. “Don’t be afraid, ...

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“On your knees!” A pair of strong hands on her shoulders pushed her down, and with a gasp, Amber fell forward onto the deck. Coarse rope bit into the delicate flesh of her wrists as she struggled to keep her balance. A lock of red hair obstructed her vision as she stole a glance at the men next to her, similarly bound, and watched in horror as one of their captors placed a pistol against her brother’s head, and cocked it.
“NO!” All action ceased as a ship full of men turned their gaze towards her. “Can’t you see he’s just a boy?”
The tall, pungent man behind her gave a laugh. “Oy, look ‘ere lads! The bonny lass has got spunk! What do you reckon,” he asked as he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her to her feet, “I’m a thinkin’ we should teach her to hold her tongue!” The pirates around her laughed as his rough hands groped clumsily at her bodice.
“Let her go!” The men turned at the sound of the voice, and her tormentor pushed her to her knees again with an unhappy grumble. The resonating echo of heavy footsteps brought her gaze upwards to see a pair of black boots directly in front of her. Her eyes traveled further up. Above the well worn boots was a pair of muscular legs clad in tan breeches, and a low slung gun belt hung on a narrow waist. A billowing black ...

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Molly Orchers was known playfully as the Dove in the Crow’s Nest. It was a most fitting title as she worked as a bartender and singer at her family’s sea front pub in London, The Crow’s Nest, and she was a plump fair girl with raven hair, rosy cheeks, bright black eyes and a sweet low, cooing voice. When men really wanted to flatter her, which was often, they would say that such a voice could calm the damned souls of hell. She appreciated their praise of course but was far too sensible to lose her head and more besides over it. Also the male clientele of the Crow’s Nest tended to be very rough, mostly consisting of sailors and sometimes even pirates forced into hiding from their usual tropical haunts. Molly wasn’t scared of them though. She had three weapons at her disposal; a strong instinct for danger and knowing whom to avoid, a dagger tucked into one of her garters (which she was not afraid to use as one or two mashers will attest while rubbing painful wounds on their thighs) and her father. Her entire family tended toward the robust and strong side but none more so than her dad. And every man who came to the Crow’s Nest knew that if they hurt Molly, their lives would not be worth a halfpenny. Of course, he was gone at the moment, off with the fishing boats so Molly had to rely exclusively on her first two resources. On ...

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My heart was in my throat as I awakened. I felt a little sore and dizzy as the blood rushed to my head. I was being carried over someone’s shoulder, with nothing but burlap closed around my head and shoulders. I blinked back my tears as the night’s events played back in my mind:“You cook good,” one of the men at the tavern said. He was dirty, as most men were at Sally’s. The inn was a place frequented by seamen and pirates. Even his bald head showed no cleanliness.“Uh huh,” was my only reply. I’d been a dinner cook there for sometime after escaping an arranged marriage, and the last thing I wanted was to be some man’s cook and cushion. “You’re pretty,” his friend observed, reaching out to me, and I slapped his hand. “And I can tell you’re not from here.”As I cleared the dishes on the table, I felt a chill down my back, and the scent of exotic oils. My senses followed the gaze to a table in the corner where a small young man sat. His hat was almost beautiful, a stiff burgundy velvet that almost hid his face, but not those green eyes. I stiffened at how those eyes touched me, my own dark eyes becoming cold and my chin tilting in defiance. I almost thought I saw a smile… I went back to work, tamping down my curiosity at this ...

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My fingers traced gentle, erratic patterns across the rough surface of the silver coin within my grasp. Its bright surface revealed the exact nature of my compulsive behavior; the coin had been quite filthy when it came into my possession. On more than one occasion, my impotent husband had attempted to dispose of this meager trinket. Though he would never dare give voice to his rage, I knew my precious reminder drove him utterly insane. The minute artifact was a slap at his manhood, a reminder that he had not yet entered my body while another had. It certainly signified his inability to satisfy my rather specific carnal needs. My satisfaction came not from the sanctity of marriage vows, but rather from an unexpected imprisonment in the wooden confines of a pirate’s vessel.
The summer had been extraordinarily cruel, beating my family’s estate into a humid, miserable submission as only an untamed tropical climate could. Most days would find me draped across the sill of my bedroom window, begging the surrounding bay to breathe even the slightest hint of a wind across my overheated body. This day was certainly no different than any other. Annoyed with nature’s lack of sympathy for my plight, I stormed into my father’s study and demanded that we return to the cool bosom of England’s countryside. He waited patiently for my tirade to end before launching into a stern lecture on my lack of etiquette and my poor choice of attire. I had long since abandoned ...

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A scream from the street awoke me. The heart felt, ear piercing shriek of a man with no more defences other than to scream and hope someone comes to his aid. Then, I heard the first gunshots and the shriek was silenced. I prayed for the man’s soul and then reached inside my drawer for my sheath knife, which I slid down my garter in case final protection was needed. I went to rouse my father and that’s when I heard the first cannon fire. Pirates rarely came to ambush our small town, but as I looked out through the window, hoards of then swarmed the pier and landing dock as they made their way up the streets to rob and plunder. I hastily changed into boys clothing and hid my long dark ringlets under a hat; disguising myself as a man was the only way I could fight. And I was a better swordsman than half the military guard up at St. Victoria’s, but as a young lady of middle class I was supposed to be happy wearing dresses, embroidering and admiring fine things all day. I had an eye for fine things, but mainly of the male variety. I liked to tease, but would never give away my heart.As the pirates found more streets they got greedier and soon they entered our little road. My father, Mr. Henderson and myself were the only ones to defend and as we stood with our swords ready at least a dozen of ...

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