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Give me that treasure, matey! (Autumn and LifeonMars)

He pulled back, a trail of saliva from his mouth to her now-red nipple breaking off as he looked in her face. "So you are as tough as you are said to be. I would expect nothing less from Blood Evie herself." Outside they could hear the sounds of his crew walking past the door as the ransacked her ship, taking everything that wasn't nailed down and ruining everything she had gained in her time. 'Don't worry, they won't interrupt us."

Still her green eyes burned into his dark brown one, whispering sweets words of death and torture should she escape. Oh, she was a prideful one. She would not break under a little pain. No, he had to assault her were it hurt, were she was vulnerable: her pride. He would have to degrade her, humiliate her to break this fiery temptress of a woman.

He let his fingers trace the valley of her breast once more before pulling away, climbing off her body and the bed. He looked around her quarters, looking over various tools, weapons and maps in search of what he wanted. Finally he found it, grasping the leather handle of the cat-o-nine tails hanging from a corner post. He flexed his arms, stretching out the whip and giving it a few strikes in the air. All sailors feared the crack of the cat, for many could recall the days before piracy were cruel merchant captains would mistreat their sailors.

"Tell me," Morris said as he slowly approached the bed, "why would such a beautiful woman such as yourself choose such a horrid profession such as piracy? With your treasure could retire to the mainland a rich noble, find a powerful husband and end your days sitting by the seaside."
 
Eve had marauded the seas over a decade, her reign of terror captivating the world around them. Everything on the ship was a memoir, a souvenir of journeys. Though she despised the way they were tearing apart the home she had made, she was satisfied in knowing that he would never find what he was seeking most: the map to the Island of Riches. It was not stuffed in a book, nor was it scrawled on any of the parchments laying about her quarters. No, it was in a place he'd never find, but even if he did, he wouldn't recognize it.

When he made the mistake of leaving the bed, Eve's fingers yanked harshly on the knot. Finally, she loosened it enough that one hand could pull through, breaking the bond on her wrists. Eyes followed him, seeming unfazed as his hand grasped the handle of the whip. She'd seen grown men break easily from the torture of it, watched as it cut glorious slashes into their backs. She'd remembered watching the blood wash over their skin, their cries echoing in her ears. Eve, however, had never used it on her crew. They were loyal to and fearful of her, thus they never needed a punishment. Torturing them didn't sate her lust for blood anyhow, not the way that taking a life did.

"The land is no place for me. I want to die at sea because I was born here." Eve had been born in a one-roomed cottage in the countryside, but Bloody Evie. . . the mighty waters gave birth to her. "I think you'll notice that I'm a rather good pirate." She grinned, and with a kick of her legs she somersaulted on the bed, landing on her feet on the opposite side. Two free hands waved at him, one wrist clad in gold and the other still adorned by his sash. The walls were littered with swords, and she could easily take one to kill him.
 
Morris was caught off guard by her aerobatic escape, briefly stupefied by her actions as she waved her now free wrists at him. Her chest was still open to him, her pert breasts moving slightly with as she landed. He had no time to enjoy the site, finding himself at odd once again with one of the most deadly pirates on the ocean.

However, there was one thing that gave him reason to smile. In answering him she had made a critical error, one that would surely cost her when this was done. "So, the treasure does exist." Her pride had once again worked against her, and as they say, 'pride comes before the fall.'

He wouldn't be so foolish as to be the first to engage combat. She had access to numerous weapons, had the higher ground, and knew her quarters better than he did. He cracked the cat in the air, giving her a grin that relished the thrill of battle. "Come on then lass, don't leave a man waiting." He would let her come to him, and she would see why so many attempts to kill him have failed.
 
Had she unintentionally mentioned the treasure? Brow furrowed at him, though the chesire grin never wavered. Eve was the type to die with a smile on her face, should it be the bold death the she craved. The end of her life was not defeat, but rather just another victory that would carry her on to the next world. The man opposite her didn't seem to understand just how much the violence enthralled her, serving as constant fuel for the flames burning within her depths.

"The world is full of treasure, love. Look around you. Don't you see it?" She pointed at her trinkets and collections, her hand falling to touch the various weapons. Fingers coiled around a dagger, the handle adorned by a golden serpent. "Do you remember Captain Daughtry who sailed Serpentine?" Ripping the dagger from the wall, she brought the blade to her flushed lips. "He was said to possess a map that told the location of an island with mountains of riches." She held the blade out, showing him a red tint to the steel. "I cut his heart out with his own knife and fed it to the hogs." She confirmed any doubts he may have had about the map, though she knew he still wouldn't find it. "This is my favorite. It's small, but her sting is sharp." Tongue licked the blade, though not a single ounce of blood was drawn.

The two were both at an impasse. He didn't trust her enough to engage the battle, and she knew the cat in his hand was strong enough to snatch a weapon from her grasp. It didn't help that their battlefield was full of obstacles, their movements limited by the furniture in the room.

As always, Eve wanted to fight him evenly. Tucking the blade into the waist of her black trousers, she shed the remainder of the the shirt, letting it drop to the floor. Skin versus skin. Modesty did not come into accord because to her, the battle was not sexual. It was merely life or death. She pulled her long hair over her right shoulder, revealing the emblem of her flag etched above her left shoulder blade. Barely visible on her lower back was a Siren sitting upon a rock, her red hair catching in the wind; the look of death in her green eyes.

Eve advanced cautiously toward him, blade clutched in to her chest. "I won't tell you what you seek. The crack of that whip doesn't frighten me."
 
Morris rolled his elbows back, stretching himself out for the coming fight. Never before had he met another with such a taste for blood as he, and a woman besides! "I remember Daughtry. I once sailed under with him to sack the city of Port Royal. They say the city has yet to recover." He was not afraid of death nor pain. His only regret if he died now would be not laying his hands on the treasure he so rightfully deserved. That, and of course not sampling the pleasures of her flesh.

Beside himself he felt a fire within him burn as her slick tongue ran over her blade, enticing his lusts and causing his grin to grow wider. "You have a taste for blood it seems. Perhaps I can put that tongue of yours to better use." Never before had he met another so enthralled with blood and death, one whose very being derived pleasure from the misery of others. She was ever much he equal it seemed, but it would be he who would come out the victor at the end.

His desire was put on hold, her chest merely a distraction and having no bearing on the battle at hand. Like her he felt this went beyond simple lusts, this was about dominance. "Your crew is dead, your ship is captured. If you surrendered now I would go easy on ye." That was a lie of course, but he knew she would never relent. True pirate blood flowed through her veins.

Breaking the stillness that had settled he let out a roar and charged her, knowing that his best time to strike was when her weapon was no longer drawn. The cat of nine tails remained in his left hand but surprisingly he didn't attack with it, instead aiming his bare right fist to try and knock her across the face. Though it would be a shame to damage such beautiful skin, he was not above doing whatever it took to secure her.
 
For a moment, she entertained the idea of joining forces with this man. The fact that he had already defeated her once proved him worthy of her services, if she had been the type to form an alliance at all. Together, the two of them would rule the Pirate Tyranny, destroying everyone who crossed their paths. However, there was no realism to the idea. Every good captain went down with her ship. The Deadly Siren would never sail under anyone else's command and she would rather see her at the bottom of the ocean than under his reign.

She ignored the innuendo with ease, her mind too focused on the task at hand. "Tell me something, Morris, do I look like the type to surrender? I'm unmarred, untouched by the weapons of others. Go ahead and try to break me, I'd love it." She was relentless, living up to the stories that circulated about her. Whether she lived or not, her name would be in the history books for centuries.

His roar assaulted her ears, though it did not break her composure. Eve stood motionless, her feet pressed together. Eyes watched the fist, short stature easily ducking the attempted punch. Her right arm reached for his raised in the air, using it to easily swing herself behind him. Legs wrapped around his waist, her bare chest pressed to his back. Both arms encircled his neck, her left hand pressing the blade to his throat and dragging it slowly across his flesh, drawing a thin trail of blood. Lips pressed to his ear, hot breath washing over the area. "Gotcha."

Right arm clung to him for dear life, keeping herself hoisted upon his back. Her dagger moved down his chest, the point scratching at his skin. She aimed it over his heart, holding it steady. "Not going to beg me for your pathetic life?"
 
She was almost too fast for his eyes. One moment she was there, about to meet his fist and the next her legs were wrapped tightly around his waist, her knife to his throat. His brow lowered in anger at being so easily taken, but he would never beg. Even when he had been captured by the Spanish and tortured on the rack he had never begged. "Before this is over," he told her with venom in his voice, "I'll have you on your backside like a Jamaican whore."

He only had a few seconds to think, but luckily for him he was a man of action. Her position gave her a large advantage, and any time she choose she could pierce his heart and even he didn't think he could survive that. There was only one option, a reckless and dangerous one that could easily backfire on him. But like the devil himself Morris was not afraid to jump into the flames.

With a heave he threw himself backwards. letting his massive frame topple back and ram itself into the wooden walls of her cabin. Her treasures and trinkets rocked with the force of the blow as her bare skin hit the old wood, knocking over several weapons from her walls. His hand shot up to grab her wrist but found her too quick, instead reverting to his last resort of grabbing the blade itself! The red-tinted metal grew a shade darker as it cut into his palm, but still he kept his grip, twisting the blade so the handle loosened from her grip as he slammed her once again into the wall.
 
She laughed at his puny threat, jabbing the tip of the blade into his chest wall. Unlike her other victims, whose lives she had taken so quickly, Eve was going to kill him slowly so that she could savor every ounce of blood that flowed from his veins and coated his skin. She swiped the blade across his skin, carving an "E" into his chiseled chest. "Now you will never forget meeting me. Anyone who peers down on your corpse will know that Bloody Evie triumphantly claimed your miserable life."

Before Eve could realize his plan of action, it was too late. Too quickly, she felt her bare back slam into the sturdy walls. Some of her prized possessions fell, several blades scraping down her back and stinging it with minor cuts. She felt warm liquid trickle down her spine, gathering at the waist of her trousers. Her right arm was loosened about his throat, though her left hand still clung tightly to her dagger. His grip was wrenching it from her grasp, tearing the steel from her small hand.

She tried to hold it, but he pinned her against the wall again so forcefully that the sound of snapping filled the air. Breath was knocked from her lungs, leaving her gasping aloud. This time, the tables were turned in his favor. Her head banged into the wall, stunning her. Arms and legs were limp, her body sliding down his onto the floor. Vision blurred, her quarters spinning violently. Eve lay in a heap, green eyes blinking up at him. She shook her head several times, trying to clear her sight. Her left hand clutched something hot, the metal heated from the burn of her hand. Somehow, she'd managed to hold on to her dagger, the blade stained with his blood. It would be too easy for him to rip it away from her now, her arms failing her in movement.

Right arm finally picked itself up, crashing harshly down onto her chest. Eve couldn't breathe, her mouth ajar. Still, she wouldn't surrender. . . couldn't surrender. With one last attempt to harm him, she flicked her wrist upward, throwing the weapon at his side.
 
He felt her go limb around him, falling from his back to a heap on the floor. She was spiteful wench, that was certain, but he would change that attitude of hers. He pressed his hand against her mark, bringing it back to see an "E" of blood on his palm. Ha, that girl had managed to give him quite a cut. He knew that the scar would stay with him, but somehow the thought only made him laugh out loud. "You've left your mark on me. I'll have to leave my own on your already inked skin."

He almost missed the blade coming at him, moving to the side as it grazed his body. His skin was slice in a bad way, blood coming out of the wound like rainwater. He growled and grabbed a cheet laying on top of her table, wrapping it around his hard stomach to stop the blood. A small island of blood stained through, but it was nothing to him.

He kneeled over her broken form, seeing her eyes looking up at him hazily. "You never cease to amaze me." This was true. She was truly a diamond in the ruff. His hands slipped under her body, feeling the warmth of her blood as he touched her back. Carrying her bridal style he moved her back to the bed, laying her down and undoing his belt.

"Don't think that this little exchange has changed anything," he said as he took her right wrist, her cold cuff cold against his hand, and tied his belt around it, securing it to the bedpost and keeping her immobile. He saw one of her own belts resting on a nearby cabinet and took it for his sinister uses, securing her left wrist after removing his sash. "Now then," he slapped her cheeks a bit, trying to wake her out of her stupor, "come on then lass, you're stronger than that."
 
Again, he posed an empty threat. Though her lungs still refused to ventilate, she managed to crack a smirk at him, showing she welcomed any "mark" he thought he wished to etch upon her form. Finally, she managed to drag air through her lips, forcing her chest to regain its natural reflex. Hazy eyes watched his wound rip open, the sweet liquid pouring like wine into a Chalice. "You look terrible." She barked proudly, her voice small.

As he leaned over her, her mind begged her body to recuperate so that she could resume fighting him. It wasn't fair how he used force to incapacitate her, which proved she was actually the better adversary. Stupid pirate! His cold hands slipped beneath her, lifting her like a rag doll into his arms. Her wounds burned her skin, though she doubted the lacerations were anything more than minimal slashes. The blood would clot soon, probably not leaving even a single scar from the battle.

Dropped onto her bed, she struggled against his attempts to restrain her again. Legs kicked and arms flailed, though the injuries had temporarily weakened her physical strength. She felt him finger her cuff, wondering why he didn't pluck the gold from her wrist. Teeth bit into her lip, suppressing a grin.

Tied to the bed, she glared up at him in anger. The slaps to her cheeks were appreciated, as they actually reignited the dying embers within her. She was furious at him, not because of his defeat over her but because he had showed her a bit of compassion. He had been gentle with her when he carried her to her bed when he should have been rough and violent. Eve never wanted pity of mercy and when she was down, he should have had the gall to finish her. No, instead, he held onto her like some morbid groom with his blushing bride.

The back of her head throbbed, though her vision was attempting to clarify itself. She could feel the blood pulsing in her veins, thumping against all her pulse points. "You're bleeding." She observed, eyes falling to his side.
 
Morris watched her struggle against her bounds for a few moments, enjoying the side of her lithe and luscious curves moving likes waves upon the ocean. He smirked at her comment, looking down at his makeshift bandage. "A simple flesh wound. One of many." He kneeled by the bed, stroking her cheek in a mockery of a lover. Of course, one couldn't miss the cruel gleam in his eye. "I must thank you for the mark you left on my chest," he motioned to the "E" still bleeding slightly on his broad chest. "You've given me another story to tell them at the taverns. Won't this be a fitting addition to the legend of Bloody Evie?"

He turned away from her and picked up the ship that had rolled away from him on the floor, taking it in his hand and firmly gripping the handle. The nine separate leather straps at the end of it called out for pain, and he would be more than happy to deliver it. He loomed over her at the side of the bed, away from her kicking legs and holding up the weapon. "Remember, you need only give me the map and all this will be over."

He trailed the cat at the base of her bare stomach, slowly running it up her flesh towards her breasts. The leather tips moved gently over her body, barely touching her as the moved up her breasts. The caught against her hard nipples as they passed over, snaking along her neck before he brought it up again. For one agonizing moment all was silent, then, he raised his hand.

The cat came down with a hard crack against her skin, each leather piece biting into her skin and leaving red welts over her stomach and breasts. He rested a moment, letting her skin calm down so she would completely feel the next blow. His smirk never falling he brought it down again, her breasts shuddering under his attack as the whip struck her white skin. Again and again he struck her, five times total, until her chest was a crisscross of red.
 
This was the part of her story she wished could be omitted. The thousands of victims whose blood tainted her cold heart were gathered together somewhere in the vast locker, laughing at and making a mockery of her. Bloody Evie, the daughter of the Devil Himself, tied to her own bed in captivity. From that point on, her reputation was threatened. She wouldn't allow it; she wouldn't let him tarnish the legend she'd built on blood and mayhem.

The leather within his hands again, the beats of her vital organ accelerated, thumping erratically beneath her bones. No, she wasn't afraid, but it was an experience she didn't wish to have either. "Your daftness is excruciating. I have no map to give." Bold stare fixated on him, watching as he lowered his device of torture over her flesh.

Years of watching men being whipped by that very weapon could never have prepared her for the jolt that slapped across her bare torso. It was like thousands of flames and daggers lapping and biting at her body. Her back arched off the bed, arms pulling heavily on her restraints. A guttural groan rumbled in her throat, though it had only escaped her lips because of the shock to her body.

Unimaginable pain struck her relentlessly, Morris never showing any signs of halting. Eyes found a focal point on the wall, staring at the crest of her logo. It was a reminder of who she was, the silent voice that told her spirit not to break. Her face almost looked relaxed except for the small crease in her brow, a sheen of sweat breaking out on her bronzed skin. Every inch of her was burning, like he'd poured fluid on her and lit it with a torch. Teeth bit down so harshly on her tender lips that she tasted the bitterness of blood.

Not once, however, did she ever cry out. Begging him to stop was out of the question, but he had already anticipated that. When the strikes finally ceased, she relaxed into the mattress. Her chest rose and fell quickly, her mounds swinging slightly. When she caught her breath, she looked to him. "Still, no map."
 
Morris gave her a slight bow, grinning at her show of determination. He loved a woman with spirit. "That's alright my dear, we have all the time in the world to learn your secrets." He placed the whip on her wall, it's work done for now. He would hate for her to think he was a bore who could only come up with one way to torture a soul.

With newfound intent he climbed on top of the bed, straddling her whipped stomach and looking down at her with a lustful eye. He watched her breasts heave up and down, red and raw from his whip and craving a reprieve. He reached for his breeches, undoing to buttons of his crotch as he watched them rise and fall. "Have you even had a man to your bed before Evie, or do you devour them when they fall into your hands?" He wouldn't have doubted it if it were true, the rumor spreaders at the taverns certainly thought so.

Pulling back the folds of his breeches he pulled out his long, hard cock. It was easily nine inches long and very thick, pulsing with need as he held it towards her. He moved up her body, positioning his member between her mounds and pressing them to each other squeezing him. He knew it would hurt her to feel such contact to soon after the shipping, he had been counting on it.

He could have taken her womanhood, and no doubt that would have been a more pleasurable experience, but this was not just about his pleasure. This was about humiliating her, letting her know that he had complete control over her body and could do what ever he wanted. With a smirk he started to thrust between her breasts, fucking her tits with vigor. His thumbs moved her nipples underneath them, only adding to his enjoyment.
 
Eve watched him advance, like a wolf to his prey. There was nowhere for her to go; no way for her to escape. His question amused her, no doubts originating from drunken men who had failed to lure her to their beds. Her lips twisted into a purse, eyes dancing upon him. She had been raised with me, therefore she was much like one. She had carnal desires and a hunger for lust that few could ever sate. Had she not been so angry and forced to be at his submission, this would have been the ideal erotic scenario. The two were a perfect match except that they were enemies. The fighting and slashing had all been like foreplay, though the significance behind it was the battle for power. No man had ever been in her bed before him, but she had been to theirs. Like toys she used them, discarding them when she was done.

She didn't like him perched upon her, showing his dominance over her. She wasn't made for this role, wasn't built to life back and be controlled. Eve longed to be free, to be rough and violent with him beneath the sheets, their bodies tangling in the silk linen. Or, at least she would have had she not loathed him so blatantly. No, what she wanted more than anything was to pick her her dagger and slice his length from his groin. Then, she would tear away his sac and feed it to him. And, she promised herself, if given the chance she would do it.

Watching him unleash himself, she tried to buck her hips beneath him to throw him off of her. She felt him slide between her globes, the contact aggravating the whelps. Fingers curled into fists, her nails digging into the palms. "I must admit, Morris, I've never had a man like you." She grinned, ignoring the searing atop her chest. "Never in my life have I been with a man whose manhood was so small and puny. You couldn't satisfy me with that." She'd meant for it to be a low blow, her words the only weapon she had left. It didn't matter that he was well-endowed by most standards, it only mattered that she degraded his ego as much as she could. "I doubt I'd even feel it."

She growled at him, understanding the humiliation he was trying to bring upon her. She knew the ending result, though she could think of no way to avoid it. Unless. . . yes, just maybe that would work.
 
He gritted his teeth in a sneer, loving every second of this. Her comments did nothing to slow him down, well aware she was frustrated at being unable to strike back at him. She was down to the only weapon available to her now: her pretty mouth and the endless list of vulgarities it could spit. He didn't dare place his manhood anywhere near those luscious lips of hers, knowing fully well she would bite it off given the chance.

His cock slid easily between her breasts, the skin pulling back as he went back and forth between her globes and pointing out towards her face. He couldn't wait to see her proud face covered in his cum, betting his would be the first to ever pay her such an insult. "I don't doubt I wouldn't please you," he told her as his body rocked atop her own, "from what I hear, an armada could sail between those thighs of yours and you wouldn't feel it from the amount of men you've had down below." He laughed at the thought. There weren't enough men with courage to follow her willingly to bed. His own men had been horrible reluctant about attacking her ship, there fear of her only matched by their fear of him.

He would cum soon, feeling his sack tighten in anticipation. Normally he wanted to make this last but he had held this back too long and besides, giving this to her now only meant he would last the longer when he plundered her other treasures. "I hope my taste doesn't offend you," he grunted out to her, reading himself.
 
His comment had mean to be an insult, though it was so outrageous that she actually laughed. Not for a second did she think he truly believed his own words; he was smart enough to know better. "At least I can say I know what a real man feels like." The banter and harsh exchange was liberating, a simple pleasure she did not experience often. It was distracting, pulling her thoughts away from the discomfort he caused her by rubbing on her raw skin.

Men always thought that basting a woman with their seed was degrading, marking them in a way. Eve would do something she was certain would shock him, turning his intended humiliation into a mockery of himself. She turned her pretty face to him, tossing her head so that her damp hair wouldn't be in the way. "I have tasted many of you, not because you had the audacity to splatter yourselves upon my lips but because I craved it. Think about it, Morris, you brutes pride yourselves on your abilities to shudder and release a stream of the only thing you have the defines you as men. And what do I do with it? I devour it like it's little more than the air I breathe. In the blink of an eye, your masculinity is gone."

Using her bonds as leverage, she raised herself up slightly. "Let me taste you, then. Let your bitterness prove how much of a low-life you really are." Her mouth opened widely, tongue snaking out to accept him. No, this was not a humiliation to her. It only added to her pride, showing her ability to crawl under the skin of the opposite sex. He would not get to her that easily.
 
The sight of her, tongue drawn out and ready to accept his seed sent him over the edge. With a groan he came, his cum shooting out into her mouth and hitting her face. Several streams shoot forth, a large load from several weeks at sea. When it was finished she had several lines of cum along her face and chest, most of it landing along her devilish tongue.

He let out a breath he didn't notice he had been holding, releasing her breasts and pulling back his softened cock. Damn if she hadn't gotten the best of him this round, the way she took his supposed insult with vigor and proved to him once again just what kind of sea-witch she was! She has a fiery temptress sent from hell no doubt, sent to torment him and lead him to an early grave.

But by God what a woman! How things would have been different if they had met on civil terms. He laughed at the idea. For their kind no terms were ever civil. Moving off her he watched her face, still dripping with some of his cum, as she watched him. He still needed to break her, force her to his will...ah wait...that would work. He had been saving them for a special occasion.

"Forgive my departure, m'lady," he told her as he buttoned his breeches, "but I have a short errand to run. Please, don't go anywhere." He would see her screaming yet, and with sinister gears turning in his mind he left the room, shutting the door behind him and leaving her to stew over her fate. It was a risk, leaving her alone, but he was a bit of a gambler.
 
Eve held her face still, purposefully letting him coat her delicate features with the sticky substance. Her eyes remained open, chin angled upward highly enough that there was no risk to any splashes to the green jewels. He would see the deviance behind them, almost daring him to continue. When the spurts stopped, she licked her covered tongue around her lips, making sure to clean away the excesses that she could reach. Had her hands been free, she would have extended a forefinger to wipe up what dripped along her jaw and reddened chest, ingesting it, too. Closing her mouth, she smiled wickedly, the corners of her mouth spreading into a thin line.

"Just as I suspected, the blandness of scum." She could see it in his face: she had won the round. Eve was an impressive vixen, her persona far bigger than her physical size. She was born to an ordinary life and had changed her own destiny to become extraordinary. She wondered what his men would have thought of him now, his little victim swallowing him with defiance of his poor attempts to degrade her. She brought her shoulder up, using it to clean her face so that not even a drop remained there. Perfection.

She was glad he tucked his exhausted member back into his breeches, as though he admitted her the victor of the battle. Ah, but the war wasn't over, and the sinister expression told her he wasn't anywhere near finished with attempting to torture her.

As the door shut, Eve peered down at her body for the first time. Puffed blisters seemed to raise everywhere, thick lines of aggravated skin clashing against the brown hue of her sun-kissed complexion. He had cut her deeply in some places, boils of blood dried to her flesh. Yanking on the belts again, she raised herself enough that she could draw her legs up under her, creating a squatting position. This enabled her to bring her teeth to the leather, choosing to chew on the left restraint first. If he came back soon, she was sure he'd try to punish her, but she didn't care. She was going to get free somehow and slice that man into pieces!
 
Morris would not be gone long, his journey only taking him as far as his own cabin. Outside the storm had cleared to a light rain, though the sea was still quite choppy. The two ships rocked side by side, their battle between each other barely damaging their seaworthiness. His men busied themselves on deck, hurling corpses over the side for the sharks to feast on. The waters around them were a frothy red, the blood of many a pirate washing out to sea, staining the sides of The Deadly Siren. He laughed to himself at the thought: Evie would have loved to see this.

A sturdy plank had been fastened between the two ship providing an unstable path for the crewmen. Wasting no time Morris walked over to his ship, the churning waves below no determent whatsoever. He was only after one particular item from his cabin, one he had been saving for an occasion such as this.

He came to his private quarters, a great deal more chaotic than Evie's, and after rifling through piles of treasure and maps he found it: a small wooden box just a bit bigger than his palm hand. This would teach that wench who the victor was. He hurried back to his captive, ignoring the men who hailed him or congratulated him. None asked about his newly-acquired injuries. After all, this WAS Blood Evie he had in there. He was a braver man then any of them to even be alone with her.

He returned, shaking himself dry like a mangy dog as he stepped inside the door. He saw her awkward position as she tried to chew through her restraints, finding himself more amused than angry. "You'd do better chewing through your own arm lass. That leather won't be breaking anytime soon." He held the box up to her to see, bringing it closer to the bedside. "I have a gift for you, something to signify our new friendship." Slowly he opened the small box to reveal it's contents: two small gold rings, evidently piercings of some sort, resting on red velvet.

Taking out a needle from the corner of the jewelry box and held it up to his eye. "I stole this off a Spanish Nobles ship, one with taste for the exotic." He tested the point of it against hie finger, finding it's point perfectly sharpened. "I would have sold them, but I thought to save them should I ever need them. I see now I was wise to." Grasping her left breast he pinched her nipple between his fingers, raising the nub and giving him a prime spot in witch to pierce her. "Care to reveal the location of your treasure, or shall I simply mark you now?"
 
She could hear the steady rhythm of his boots padding on the floor, the sound increasing in volume the closer he came to her quarters. With a mouth full of leather, she heaved at the restraints, arms jerking violently to try to break them from the bedposts. It was to no avail, and he had returned. "You should thank the Sister of Fate that it hasn't." She replied, her tone full of overwhelming arrogance. "A gift for me? Lets see it." She thought of a million things it could be, most of them knives of some sort to mutilate her skin, all of them items to cause her pain.

Eyes fell on the box, the glimmer of gold catching them. They were beautiful, an excellent addition to the ones that already lined her ears. She wanted to touch them, to feel them in her grasp. She was a pirate, after all, and they all seemed to have a common thread in murdering and plundering treasures of any kind. "I'm flattered you show your affection for me with such lavish gifts, Morris."

Eve was not stupid or naive. She knew that he intended to hurt her, to put fear in her eyes. Before his fingers even pinched her nipple, she had guessed his motives. The only advantage of the situation she could see was that the needle appeared to be very sharp. A blunt one would have hurt much more, but at least that one would slide fluidly through her soft flesh. She knew it would sear her, cutting through her sensitive nerves. Still, seven separate times had needles pierced her skin with ink. It wouldn't be the same, but at least they had aided in preparing her for this moment.

Eve's legs dropped on the bed so that she was sitting firmly atop it. She needed to keep her body still as squirming would only make it worse. "Your men have already taken the only treasures aboard The Deadly Siren, except for the various blades in my chambers." She puffed out her chest, looking down at her two breasts. "Don't you think those rings are going to be glorious? You'll be overcome with lust, and the pierces to my skin will bring me more pleasure than any part of you ever could."
 
Sitting on the edge of the bed Morris examined the ring, making sure it was clean. He would hate for her to grow infected and die before had extracted the map from her. He would be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying himself, this woman proving to be more than a worthy challenge. He saw the way her eyes lit up at the sight of gold. her pirate blood calling out to it. Of course, even the hellfire she whispered to him couldn't hide the way she readied herself for the pain. She may not fear it, but by god she would feel it.

"It is a man's greatest joy to adorn a beautiful woman with lavish gifts," he told her with a wave of his hand. Oh, how ironic this situation was, their banter fitting a tavern rather than a torture chamber. "and you know my only desire is to please you.

Pinching her nipple hard enough it turned even redder he pressed the tip of the needle against her soft flesh, barely pricking it. He lightly pressed it against her, teasing her by drawing it out. Then, without warning he thrust forward, piercing her nipple and coming out the other end. A trickle of blood followed and he let it slide. "I know how much you enjoy the site of red, my dear." Taking the first gold ring from the box he held it up to the light, unfastening its pin and holding it to her chest. With agonizing slowness he pulled out the needle, pulling it out of her tortured nipple with a trail of red following. He quickly replaced it with the gold ring, letting it dangle from her breast. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. She was right, his lusts where growing already for her. But there was still one to go.

The second was very much like the first, but he took his time piercing her bud seeming to take forever to pierce it completely. In the end both rings adorned her chest, the firelight reflecting off their surface and fueling the fire he had burning for her. "I hope you enjoyed that as much as I, my dear Evie."
 
He was toying with her, tantalizing her by dragging the needle across the skin. He wanted her to feel every torturous second that passed, etching the memories of the agony into her mind. Her jaw was set, teeth gritted tightly together. No matter how much she prepared herself for it, there were no words to describe the burn that ripped through her sensitive area. It was like he had branded her with an iron, the entire mound throbbing. She could feel her carotid pulse thumping against her neck, the pressure of her blood rising. She felt the sticky blood trickling downward, her eyes not needing to look to see it.

When he extracted the needle, Eve dug her heels into her bed. The tissue was eager to close, and when the ring was put into place, it re-pierced her skin. "Ughhhhhhhh." She moaned, not being able to hide the fact that he was tormenting her flesh. Her eyes were stinging, not because of a build up of weak tears, but because it was a direct natural reaction to the pressure he had inserted.

As he punctured the second wound, Eve turned her head to bury her nose into her shoulder. Her mouth opened, teeth biting down harshly on her muscled arm. How she wished the leather restraints were in her mouth to distract her, but she didn't have that luxury. Still, every millimeter of the needed was endured so she bit down harder on her arm, creating enough pain that it distracted her.

The job was finally finished. She let go of her arm, a red circular mark left behind, an instant abrasion appearing. Eyes fell to the two jewels, admiring the way they looked. They would indeed be glorious when they healed. For now, though, she looked a mess. Literally every inch of her torso was red and puffy, either from the piercings or the leather cat. She didn't mind the blood, though, as it meant she was still mortal. Unlike her piercings, however, the patterned lashes across her flesh would heal much more quickly. Her tortured nipples would be sore for weeks, every touch bringing her agony whether it was from a breeze, a gentle brush against something, or the cling of fabric. He'd taken a measure against her that would not be soon forgotten. "Is that the best you've got?" She asked, laying back on the bed. "Pain heals."
 
Morris's face was flushed with excitement. She never once screamed driving him further and further to cause her pain during the act. The map was momentarily forgotten, his only desire to elicit a scream from her soft lips. He reached his hand to her left nipple, slipping in finger through the gold ring and pulling it upward. He knew the she must be in extreme agony, but she refused to break. She knew no fear and would fight him to the end of time.

He had never been to attracted to a woman.

He turned to her, his eyes searching the floor for her blade. He found it lying under the table, a light coat of his own blood along the tip. He held the serpentine dagger in his hand running his finger along the cold metal. It was truly an impressive work. He wasted no time as he returned to her side, no words needed for what he planned. He held down her left leg with his body, pressing the blade against her. For a moment it seemed he would stab her then and let her bleed out, but a second later the knife was under her edge of her breeches. The sound of fabric ripping filled the room as he ran the knife down to her boot revealing her tanned, flawless legs.

No amount of kicking or struggling would deter him, he would take every blow. Soon the last of her outer garments lied in ruins around her, the black fabric torn away in strips by his assault. Her boots came next, giving him considerable trouble as he pulled them from her feet.

Now all that stood between him and her core was her delicate pair of undergarments. He moved between her legs, keeping them spread with his own large body, and pressed the knife against her clothed womanhood. He wondered what was going through her mind, wondered if she felt any fear for what he could easily do to her now with her own blade. He licked his lips, he could never ruin such a beautiful mound. Not until he had sampled it anyway.

His hand grasped the hem and with a quick slice the knife took away the last of her defenses, leaving her plump mound to eyes greedy eyes. His free hand moved out to touch it, his fingers jamming themselves in without care. "Tell me Evie. Tell me where I can find the treasure and we can spare you this humiliation."
 
They were more alike than either was willing to admit. That was made apparent by his every action; they were both Sadists. He became aroused by the thought of hurting her and dominating her into submission just like she thirsted to draw blood from countless victims. He could see the excitement brewing in his eyes almost like he'd found the ultimate treasure: her.

As his finger looped through the ring, barely jiggling her abused nipple, she knew what was coming. For a moment, she almost cried out in pain, but by a sheer force of will, she suppressed it. Oh, she didn't blame him for his actions because she knew if the tables were turned she would revel in it as much as he did. They were both sick and twisted, therefore they belonged together except they would have murdered each other before taking any vows.

Eyes never averted from him, warily watching every move he made. The silver of steel cut into her line of sight, the blade catching on the light from the lanterns illuminating the room. She would have smiled at the thought of the blade severing her life thread except that she knew better. He wouldn't have wasted his time to torture her so much if he was going to kill her. No, he had more plans for her.

When he held down her leg she, too, thought he was going to slash into her inner thigh and let her blood stain her sheets. Her right leg came up, kicking him repeatedly with her shins and boots, making contact with his arms and back. She didn't realize what he was doing to her until he had restrained her combative leg and she felt the breeze of the room on her opposite one. The left resumed what the other could not finish, though it did not deter him from his actions.

Her boots removed and her thin undergarments slashed away, Eve lay naked before him, all of her tattoos visible except for one. Her left thigh revealed a sea serpent coiled around her leg with its mighty mouth open, fangs perched in its mouth. The other piece of art was below her stomach, directly above the tuft of hair that rested over her core. Flames extended in a line on her skin, stretching from hip to hip.

His fingers roughly assaulted her, her legs forced to be splayed widely. Instead of humiliation, however, a flame of lust began to stir within her depths. It wasn't that she enjoyed being controlled, but she was thriving on the harshness in which he handled her. No man before him had ever been enough for her, most of them too frightened and intimidated to act out of instinct. Images of him freeing her flooded her mind, the two of them engaging in a wild dance about the room in which they crashed into the walls and collections were sent sailing about the quarters. Raw and elicit, the way sexual encounters should be. The two nubs atop her breasts hardened, sending bolts of electrical pain throughout her entirety. As morbid as it was, his fingers would feel her arousal between her legs. "I don't believe you. Even if I revealed the location of the map, you've come too far to turn back now."
 
Morris could only smile in response to her observation. "How very astute of you dear. To think I could pull one over on the terror of the sea, Bloody Evie herself." As he said this he curled his fingers inside of her, aiming to hurt her in the process but finding himself to amazed to find her wet for him. With a smirk he drew his fingers out of her, slick with her juices. "And what have we here? Is the great Eve feeling arousal at my touch?" He licked his fingers, tasting her like she had him. It was strong, like herself.

Moving back he pulled open his breeches once again, his cock ready and willing. It looked even bigger now if it were possible, as though seeing her writhing had caused it to swell past it's limits. With a smirk he kicked the garment off, leaving himself naked save for his makeshift bandage. He wrapped his large hands around her thighs, lifting her slightly as he laidhis hard member over her wet cunt.

"There was an island I raided once," he said with a grin, running his stiff member over her line letting her feel it. "There was this lovely native girl, with tan skin and long brown hair going down to her ass." He was gripping her hard, surely bruising her flesh with his raw strength. "I held her down as she begged me not to leave her pregnant with a bastard. I laughed in her face, but then she offered me the most delicious alternative..."

His hands moved down to her ankles, forcing her legs up in the air and giving him a prime view of her asshole. He pressed his hard cock against the tight star of flesh, getting a taste of how tight she would be around him. "Tell me Evie, have you ever had the pleasure?
 
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