Monique is bored.
Married to a rich husband whose only interest is in work and making money, she
and her six friends plan a sailing trip to the Cayman Islands but are taken by
pirates. These are no ordinary modern-day pirates. Under a curse from centuries
earlier, these seven men are doomed to live forever in exile, allowed access to
their old ship for just seven days every fifty years to sail the high seas to
loot, pillage, and, above all, to take women to satisfy their insatiable desire
to inflict pain and bondage as well as their desperate lust for female bodies.
Monique, however,
has no idea that she is the direct descendant of the witch who cursed the men,
but, as her relationship with the leader of the pirates becomes deeper, she
will soon find out…
Monique kicked out
at him ineffectually with her small bare feet, and she shrieked when his hand
smacked down on her thigh. “Stop that, Clarette,” he growled. “It seems such a
waste of time to start over with you.”
“I’m not Clarette,”
Monique screamed.
In a swift move,
Deegan plucked the knife from her hand. “But you are, girl. The centuries could
not make me forget your eyes of the sea.”
Monique whimpered
when he crawled towards her and he ran a surprisingly gentle thumb through her
tears. He whispered, “How I wanted to bring you back to Tortuga and flaunt you
in front of the others. To have you kneeling by my side, and everyone who looked
upon you would be reminded of the sea. You denied me that pleasure, Clarette…
and you took that very sea away from me. Such torment. And now, you will suffer
the same torture you have exiled me to.”
Monique managed to
stutter, “Please… please don’t hurt me. My husband has money, and he’ll pay
more than you could possibly earn for me.”
The remark surprised
him. “You think I want to sell you?” His laugh echoed off the walls. “Oh no,
no, Clarette. You know that would be impossible. And besides, my wish is to
cause you the same torment I have suffered, though perhaps unlike the others,
with you it will be an endless condition.”
Monique issued a
sob, and once again realized the man was mad. Without warning, his other hand
reached out and tore the flimsy light sleeping tank from her body. Monique
shrieked and covered her bared breasts. The pirate leered at the flesh still
bulging along the edges of her arms, and his fingers hooked through the
waistband of her pants. She kicked in panic and clawed at his hands, but his
efforts were hardly stalled.
Her garments were
tossed onto the floor and she grabbed at the quilt to cover herself. Deegan was
pleased with her fear-filled whimpers as he stood to disrobe. His cock burst
from his pants, painfully throbbing with anticipation of being buried once again
in her moist depths, as if it longed to experience the sensations of their last
encounter.
Monique’s eyes
widened at the size of him and she shuddered while she looked helplessly for a
means of escape. Deegan grabbed her ankle, and she wailed while he turned her
over to clap his hand down on her bottom. “Stop this nonsense, Clarette.” He
laid his heavy weight on top of her, anticipating the excitement of once more
giving her the choice of her torture.
“This new form is
just as beautiful as when I saw you last.” He brushed his hands down her
quivering body. “I give you the same choice, sorcière,” and he trailed his
finger down the crevice of her bottom.
Monique trembled
beneath him. Frank had never suggested the act he considered a perversion, and
Monique shrieked with the realization this man’s size would rip her apart. She
scrambled for a solution to the violation she knew he was intent on perpetrating,
and just as Clarette had done so long ago, the pirate was pleased to feel the
minor effort of her trying to turn.
This woman was
smaller in stature and lacked some of Clarette’s fullness, but her curves were
pleasing and her skin soft and as unblemished as he remembered. He rolled to
the side and pulled her onto her back. With his head resting on his hand, he
looked down at her and impatiently brushed away her hand so he could enjoy an
unimpeded view of her quivering breasts as she panted in fear. His thumb
brushed over a light pink nipple, tightening its puffiness to a firm, erect
state that he pinched painfully until she moaned.
Monique cried when
his hand traveled between her hip bones and over the slight swell of her belly
until he sifted through her blonde curls and spread her fleshy lips. Perhaps
most disconcerting was the realization she was wet in response to his ministrations,
and she felt an unexpected cramping in her core as her body seemed to be almost
wanting him to fill her. She had fully expected the experience to be even more
agonizing with her dry passage. Instead, his stroking was arousing her to a
degree that frightened her further.
“Ah… little witch.
Your mind may not yet remember me, but your body has not forgotten the passion
we shared.”