Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

For a useful summary of the plot thus far, please consult the Chapter Links before reading.

 

by kinkys_sis and kinkychic

CAPTAIN BREN

Gentle swells rocked the ship as she lay at anchor and we waited for the boats to return with fresh provisions. The time passed slowly and tensely, for certainly, we were not welcome here in Tortola. Indeed, we were barely tolerated, but I had chosen to resupply in the Virgin Islands because they offered multiple escape routes, should we be forced to flee.

For the hundredth time, I swept the foreshore of Road Town with my spyglass, searching for any signs of hostility. A large, six-oared cutter was slowly approaching, though none of the men showed any weapons. In fact, I was surprised to see a woman perched on the thwart, holding a parasol as protection from the merciless sun.

The boat drew closer, and a man called out. “Are you be’in’ the Siren?”

“An’ who be askin’?” the bosun snapped back.

The woman suddenly stood. “Is that you, Davy?”

My heart jumped in my breast. That voice! It could belong to only one person, but I did not dare allow myself to believe it.

Davy’s quizzical expression told me he had the same thought. I nodded slightly, granting him leave to wave the boat alongside and order a chair to be sent down. I raced across the deck as the delicate cargo was being lowered amidships, but came to a sudden standstill short of the goal, staring dumbfounded at the vision that had turned to face me. Those of the crew still aboard watched speechlessly. Some might remember her, though many would not.

It was Davy who broke the silence. “Er… Cap’ain… “

Marianna took a hesitant step forward, I raised my hands towards her, and she ran to me. The parasol flew away, her hat followed, and she was in my arms. Her body was wracked with sobs, and her small fists beat my chest. “Where have you been? So long I’ve waited for you!”

I pulled her close, trapping her flailing arms between us, and pressed my face to her hair. It wouldn’t do for the crew to see that I was close to tears myself.

“Marianna – dearest! – I searched for you when I could, but I could find no trace of you. It was as if you had vanished from the face of the earth.”

She looked up at me. “You did? You really looked for me?”

“Yes, I did. Truly.” I forgot that I was the captain of a ship as I bent my head. Our lips came together, and five years melted away in a second.

Raucous yells and whistles shattered our bond. We pulled apart, red-faced, but still, we gazed at each other. She lifted a hand to my unkempt, free-flowing hair before lowering her eyes to my jutting breasts.

“Bren, you’re not hiding what you are from them anymore. And Davy just called you captain. How can that be?”

“A long story. But first, may I ask? Is this to be just a quick visit? Or can you stay a while?”

“That is entirely up to you. I can stay as long as you wish.” Suddenly she stamped her foot. “Bren, can we stop being so damn’d formal! Are we…can we still be l–?”

Davy saw the awkwardness of the situation. Now, as so many times in my life, he came to the rescue once again. “Back to work, you lazy lot!” he roared at the crew. “You’s ’ad yer fun!” He turned to us. “Best be takin’ our guest to your cabin, Cap’ain.” He touched Marianna’s hand. “It be’in’ a pleasure to see you ag’in, missy, that it is.”

I barely had time to lock the door behind me before she was back in my arms, exclaiming, “Dios mío, tanto tiempo!” It was indeed – five long years. Then she crushed her lips to mine. Long ago, her lovemaking had been gentle. Now, she was a demon ripping at my clothes. Not that I was especially restrained myself.

Suddenly, I was naked, and her own gown was half off. I reached for her, determined to complete the job, but she pushed me back. “I want to look at you, see how you have changed.” Her eyes sparkled. “You are no longer a young girl, but a beautiful woman. My God, so very beautiful.” Her hand felt my arm. “And your muscles… so strong.” Her hand moved to my breast, caressing it softly. I was dying to ravish her.

The look of wonder abruptly changed to a grimace. I saw she was struggling for the right words. I thought for a moment it was the scars that had shocked her. “What is it, my love?” I asked “What’s wrong? Tell me.”.

“H… have you, have there been… others?”

Was that all that was worrying her? I chose my words carefully. “One small encounter only. It meant nothing. It took care of a passing need, that’s all.”

She seemed to consider my answer, and then she smiled. “Then in that case, it is forgotten.”

Her eyes went to the long diagonal scar just below my breast, and her fingers slowly traced its length. Then she reached up and brushed my hair aside, exposing another scar. “I can see you have been in battle. You look like a beautiful warrior. The question is, are you my warrior? Do you still want me?”

I saw the pleading in her eyes when I lifted her chin. “I have never stopped loving you,” I said. “There have been days of hope and then despair when I searched for you. I thought you might have returned to Spain after I heard Isabella and your father died from the fever. I knew you had inherited sufficient means to do as you pleased. More than that… nothing! It didn’t matter how much I asked. And I could hardly sail into Cuba and enquire. They would have executed me and my crew on the spot.”

I kissed her lightly. “But now you are here.”

“And now I am here.” Her hands went to the fastenings of her dress, completing the task I had begun. Her smile was back, dazzling in its radiance. “What would you do with me?” she asked. The playfulness in her voice was like a knife to my heart. She gave a shrug, the dress slipped down her arms, and her two wonderful breasts bobbled into view. “As with you, I have grown, and these have not been touched, not since before my mother passed away.”

She giggled as she skipped back from my grasping hands. “Wait, love.”

“I can’t!”

“But you will,” she said.

Calmly, she pushed the dress over her hips. I wasn’t prepared for the sight of the neatly trimmed patch of black hair. I had no idea that ladies did that. My eyes travelled to the gorgeous folds that formed the lips of her pussy. It was almost as if I were looking between her mother’s legs. The faint glistening was obvious. She was aroused, and for me.

She was also watching me intently. “Bren, say something. Or do I disappoint you?”

“What? Disappoint? My God, Marianna! You were pretty when we were girls. Now, you are so beautiful.” Her smile blossomed as I dropped to my knees – half from desire, half from weakness – and buried my face in her fine hair. I marvelled at the softness that tickled my nose. Then I caught the aroma, which released the flood of memory.

I nuzzled lower until I felt the damp on my lips. Pressing deeper, I grasped her backside and pulled her to me. Her fingers ploughed through my hair before her hips moved. She began to rub herself against my face. “Bren,” she said in a strangled voice. “My Bren, love me. How I have yearned for this moment… fuck yes, fuck me, Bren!”

If I had stopped to think, her words would have shocked me, but I was beyond taking any notice. Her hips seemed to gyrate in all directions, her clit now palpably beneath my tongue. Somehow, I managed to get two fingers inside her pussy. I sucked, I licked, I fucked.

The gyrations suddenly stopped as she went rigid. Then I felt her lifting on the balls of her feet. Her fingers tightened in my hair, and she grunted lustily. I worked my tongue faster, flicking and teasing her clit, even as I pumped the hot and slippery depths of her cunt. Her inner muscles seemed alive as they clutched at my fingers. God, how she shook!

I went to stand when the swells of her orgasm had passed, but she dropped to the deck with me. Her arms drew me into a solid embrace. Her lips sought mine. She poured her years of frustration and despair into that kiss. Once again, I could feel the wetness of her tears.

When we finally pulled apart, I saw those tears were an expression of happiness. Her eyes sparkled through them as she caressed my face. “I have my Bren back. Don’t you ever leave me, I could not endure that torment again.” Once more we kissed, but this time it was the soft, lingering kiss of lovers reunited.

She turned to look at my cot. “Shall I love you here? Or will we move to your bed?”

“The bed, of course.”

But, for a short trip, it proved to be a difficult manoeuvre. Our hands took on lives of their own as we stumbled across the cabin, grabbing at one another’s breasts, bottoms and pussies. And, with our lips sealed together, and our tongues rolling about like jollyboats in a storm, we could hardly see where we were going. It was an awkward, bruising few steps. My bare hip struck the centre table, her foot caught the leg of the captain’s plush chair, and we tumbled sidewise over my cot. I smacked my head against a beam on the way down. We had to laugh, but the low comedy was quickly forgotten as Marianna slid to the deck, kneeling between my outstretched legs, and planted her mouth right where I had so often dreamed of it.

A good time later, we lay in each other’s arms, exchanging dozens of soft kisses before Marianna finally spoke. “Did you get this in a battle?” she asked, delicately touching the scar on my cheek.

“Not the kind you’re thinking of. It was a battle though, one for my own survival.”

I explained to her how the quality of crew aboard a privateer depends on the skill and success of its captain. The more captures he makes, the more volunteers he attracts. The richer he makes them, the harder they are willing to work for him – or her.

***

We had a good crew aboard the Siren, as disciplined and well trained as any in the Royal Navy. But good fortune had turned its back on us. Mutterings of discontent were growing louder and more distinct by the week. Being a legally warranted privateer was not now paying enough to keep the crewmen satisfied.

The captain called me to his cabin. “What do you hear, Bren? Is there trouble afoot?” His trepidation was clear to see, and for the first time, I saw how weary he looked.

“Aye, Captain, I believe there might be.” I had been about to say more, but he waved me to silence.

“I’m tired, Bren. The truth of it is I’ve had enough. I would rather hand over to someone else and go of my own accord than to be overthrown. D’you see?”

His words shocked me. Over the past five years, I had grown accustomed to his guiding hand, and the trust he had placed in me. It was as if he had become more of a father than a commander. I considered what he had said, however, and clearly saw the sense of it.

“But who will become captain? I can see the crew being split several ways.”

His next words stunned me. “You will, my lad. Probably not without a fight, but I believe you can do it. I’m certain that you will have more than enough of the crew to back you. It’s what I want. I’ve seen how you have won the respect of the crew. You have fought alongside them. Indeed, they were following you before you were in a position to lead them. You led by example before you even knew it, but they knew it. You must have wondered why I made you first mate at such a young age.”

It was a lot for me to take in. In one year I had gone from a deckhand, albeit the captain’s assistant, to first mate, and now potentially, captain. Was it possible? Was I ready for the responsibility? What I did know was, ready or not, I wanted it.

The captain had one last point to make. “I own this ship. I will retain ownership. But, in all other respects, she is yours to command. I shall naturally expect a percentage return for my investment in you.”

A short time later, the crew gathered on deck as the ship swung slowly on her anchor. Ships such as the Siren don’t have officers in the sense the navy does. The officers were simply those who commanded respect through special knowledge or superior skills.

The crew peered up at us – the captain, the sail master, the gun captain, the surgeon and myself, the first mate. The captain wasted little time with words. He more or less just told them he was about to retire. Had we been sailing as a true pirate ship, the new captain would have been elected by the crew. Things were different aboard a privateer. Here the captain had more say. Besides, it was his ship. He simply told them that I would be the new captain. He had made up his mind, and that was that. That evening, he was gone.

It was Davy who warned me of the trouble brewing. A small faction was refusing to accept me as the captain, led by a man who had been grumbling ever since I had become first mate. He believed that distinction should have been awarded to him.

On deck, this man demanded this be settled the pirate way. I could have refused, but I saw he carried enough support to make for a very unhappy ship. I had no choice but to agree. Davy offered to fight in my place, but I told him no, I would never gain the crew’s respect that way.

He was a big brute of a man, though in a duel of cutlasses, sheer strength counted for little. His thrusts would be deadly, but I was faster and far more nimble on my feet. Strangely, it did not occur to me that my sex placed me at a disadvantage.

I was foolish enough not to expect the directness of his attack, and that’s how I got the scar on my face. After that, I used my speed to strike fast and then retreat. Within ten minutes he was bleeding from numerous cuts, but still, he kept on coming. It was when I slipped on his blood that he saw his chance. Before I had fully recovered, I received the slash across my chest. He very nearly had me.

Then he slipped in his turn. It was the opening I needed. I managed to wedge the hilt of my sword on the deck as he fell straight onto it. He was dead in seconds. He must have received twenty, maybe thirty cuts. I had only the two. The crew thought it a resounding victory.

I managed to walk myself to the surgeon, who, of course, discovered my breasts. He was a loyal man, however. He swore to keep my secret, and he honoured his word. It was after we had taken two valuable prizes that I decided to reveal my true identity.

We knew our privateer’s charter would soon expire, and we would be pirates once more. I got the black flag from the locker and called for the crew to muster.

The new first mate and I held the flag spread between us, although I was standing behind it. “We will soon be sailing under this flag again. What is our ship named?” I shouted.

“The Siren!” they yelled.

“And what is a Siren?”

“The mermaid,” they yelled again, pointing at the flag.

“And do we not have a mermaid as our figurehead?”

They were clearly puzzled as to where this was going, yet still, they cheered.

Having previously removed my bindings, I wore naught but a thin linen shirt, loose enough to reveal the gully between my tits – shallow, certainly, but noticeable to anyone who bothered to look. “Then would it not be fitting to be led into battle by a siren?”

With that, I stepped from behind the flag and raised my cutlass high in the air, thrusting out my breasts for all to see.

There was a stunned silence for a few moments, and then the mutterings began.

I yelled for quiet. “Have I not fought to be in my position? Have I not taken you to victory? Do you not at this moment have more coin to show than ever before?”

Davy came and took my corner of the flag. He and the first mate held it high as they called, “The Siren!” The crew took up the chant until I once more raised my arms.

“Then there is only one question… do I lead you to more success, to more wealth? Are you with me?”

There was a halfhearted murmur of assent. The men looked askance at one another, each hoping someone else would take responsibility for the decision.

“Anyone who does not care to serve under a woman is free to leave,” I said. “But if you join with me, know this: grab my tits or my arse, and you will be minus one hand.”

That last comment brought a laugh, followed by a raucous cheer.

***

“So, there you have it, my love,” I said. “I am now Captain Bren, the only feminina ship’s master in the Caribbean.”

She had listened to my story in silence. Now, she touched my face. “The Queen of the Pirates,” she called me. “Who would have thought? So young – just nineteen – and those men follow you like any other captain.”

With a mischievous grin on her face, she asked, “Now tell me – who is the captain’s woman?”

Soon to come: Chapter Five!