A Word of Caution

Welcome to the realm of the Unseelie Court. Feel free to wander and browse, but know that the content you will find here is not for the faint of heart. The visions portrayed are often darkly erotic, even disturbing, and should be traversed only by those with the appropriate character and mental age.

You have been warned.


Chapter 9 – Adrift

Caravel shivered in delicious pleasure, her mind, like her body, clutching and tensing to draw out the moment, allowing her to feed on her prey for as long as possible. Images and voices streamed into her head, mingling and becoming one with her. She saw entire years at sea in a single blazing moment. Her nostrils were filled with the scents of ocean and fish, and the ever present musk of a hundred other sailors. Her skin dimpled with wet and brisk air, and she heard the rush of foam across the bow of the Geminon… Her ship. She felt the crash of pounding waves against its hull, as it cut through a violent storm, and the heat of a hundred windless days slicing across glassy waters, powered only by the sun itself. For a few fleeting moments, she was the very embodiment of life on a ship at sea. Lonely, happy; part of a living, synchronized machine that was the crew of her vessel.

But, as it always did with males, the feelings and sensations faded with her orgasm, gradually slipping back into her subconscious where they were consumed and digested. She would remember them only like an early morning dream. In an hour, they would be little more than the memory of a memory.

With short breaths, she gradually regained her focus and came back to the present. Below her on the bed, the man she had just ridden into ecstasy looked almost asleep. Certainly unconscious, he too would have vague memories… of a strange girl with flaming red hair and a body so soft and supple that he was utterly powerless to resist her charms. He would dream of her lips for the rest of his life, unable to shake the watery images of her face, her breasts, her belly… He would forever be unsatisfied with other women, always longing to once again be with the fair Caravel.

A knock at the door to the cabin could only be one person. No one else would be so bold as to risk interrupting her during a feeding.

“Come,” she said, smiling; slightly amused with the irony of the simple command that was also an apt description of her current state.

The door opened behind her just as she lifted herself from the hips of her lover, his flaccid penis slipping from her depths accompanied by a brief rush of after-pleasure. She rolled to the side of the bed and took a deep breath.

“I hope I did not interrupt your moment,” said Marus with sincerity. “I tried to time my entrance with the closure of your coitus.”

“Are you always a gentleman?” she asked, letting her body slowly recover.

“Always… At least where applicable. There is news. A ship has been sighted.”

“Oh? So soon?” Standing, the redhead retrieved a white robe from a chair nearby and folded herself into its soft warmth. “Is it the Mistress?”

Marus chuckled at her obvious excitement. “We’re not sure. It does match known descriptions, but it’s heading in the wrong direction.”

“How curious!”

“Indeed. The good Captain is hailing her as we speak. If it is the Mistress, there’s a good chance they may make a run for it. They are pirates after all. I didn’t think you would want to miss that.”

“No. Finally, a little excitement.” She moved to where her dress was crumpled on the floor. “Have I time to bathe?”

“I should think so. Even if they change course, they’re far enough away that it will probably be several hours before we intercept. Did you get anything from the First Mate?” He asked, glancing at the naked man on the bed.

“You mean beyond an entirely sickening sense of duty and honor and general love of the sea?” She rolled her eyes. “They’re so boring, Marus. Like copies of one another!”

He had to laugh. “Just a little more patience my dear. I think by sundown you shall have far more interesting minds to entertain and educate you.”

She sighed in happy anticipation. “Pirates… I can hardly wait to feel such freedom and rebellion.”



Molly was serving lunch in the mess when she noticed a change in the general conversation and excitement of the crew. Even Manny looked up from his spoons to see what was amiss. Star Haven jogged into the room and came right up to the serving table.

“Molly! Did you hear? They spotted something really weird in the water. It’s why we’ve come to a stop.”

“What is it?”

She shook her head. “No one knows, but it seems to be some kind of debris.”

“Like from another ship?”

“I don’t think so,” replied Star, frowning. “At least no kind of human ship. It looks like it’s made of metal, but… floating metal.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“I know! And it has weird writings on it and scorch marks. Whatever it used to be a part of, it was really big. I think they’re going to try and bring it aboard.”

“Really?!” She turned to the cook, her face entreating. The man just laughed.

“Go on den. I will finish here.”

“Thanks, Manny!” She leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

“Aww. Off wit you.” He waved her away.

Molly pulled her apron over her head and followed her bunkmate and about half the crew up onto the main deck. Captain Pennylust, the Professor, and most of the officers were guiding riggers with hooks and lines to try and snag a large, slightly convex object to port. Molly could instantly see why there was so much excitement, the silver grey material was obviously metallic in nature, and yet it floated like a cork. There were visible struts and spurs, and all along one side were even and precise markings embedded right into the material. Whatever it was, Molly had to admit it was nothing like any known human technology.

“Tom! Do you think the boom would hold to lift it from the water?” yelled Pennylust over the many voices of the crew.

“It should, Captain. From the way she’s bobbing in the water, I don’t guess it to be very heavy, just bulky.”

“Fine, let’s rig to bring her aboard then. We’ll set it on the deck for now, but we’ll have to find a more secure place for it if we keep it for any length of time.”

“Captain, what about the cargo hold,” suggested the Quartermaster. “We’ve at least four or five water barrels that we no longer need now that the distiller is operational. We could toss them overboard for the space.”

“Arrange it.”

“Aye, Sir! Fitzmiller! Get your cargo crew down there and empty those barrels. We’ll net and dump them first, and then use the boom to lower the debris right into the open hold. Amberly!… Ah, there you are.” Brill strode up to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “How’s the head?”

“A bit sore. I’ll manage,” she answered, not wanting to miss any chance to see the strange object close up.

“Good. Scurry below to the cargo hold and make sure none of the new water lines you installed are in the way. I want a clear shot down from the deck.”

“Yes, Sir!”

Happy to be directly involved, Molly went deck by deck as they opened the large cargo doors into the belly of the Mistress, checking that the copper water lines were fully out of the path of whatever they were bringing aboard. She was constantly amazed at how versatile the ship was when it came to reconfiguring. Almost none of the walls or partitions was permanent, and most of the floor could be removed or opened to provide access to the hold.

Finally, she made her way clear back to the distiller room, which was right next to the barrels they originally used to store water. Now of course, they were just taking up space. They’d keep a few for an emergency, but the rest could go, freeing up a considerable amount of the hold. Each barrel was nearly as tall as her shoulders, and about three feet in diameter. She heard someone coming down the steps as she checked each of the containers.

“These three are empty,” she started, assuming that it was the cargo crew, “…but those last two are full so you’ll probably need to empty th… Cassandra?”

“Perfect,” said the girl, swinging something in her hand. Molly barely had time to register the motion before she was struck just above her left temple, sending her into unconsciousness.

Most of what she remembered of the next hour was pain. She awoke briefly to find her body nearly upside down, her face looking up at a dim circle of light. There was a fuzzy face there which was replaced by a dark object that blocked the light. Fading in and out of consciousness, she heard voices, and recalled being jostled about in total darkness. Then the space she was in seemed to tumble end over end. She was about to call out when there was a loud crash and she was smashed against hard wood. She must have been out for quite a few minutes after that, because when she came to, she could only barely hear the voices, as though they were far off.

Molly’s head was pounding, and she took a moment to inventory the rest of her body. She could tell she was badly bruised, but nothing seemed broken. There was no light at all, but around her she could hear water, and she also seemed to be sitting in several inches of the cold wetness.

Shivering and soaked, she gingerly reached out in front of her until her hand found a wall. She went to follow it, but felt that it curved around behind her almost at once. To her surprise, it was the same in the other direction. Then, in a moment of clarity, she understood and cried out. She was in a barrel. Sealed and cast overboard, Molly was almost certainly no longer on the Queen’s Mistress. She was likely floating free in the ocean, alone and forgotten.

Her wail of anguish and terror echoed in the small space until her ears rang. She pounded on the sides of the barrel, and frantically tried to break herself free of her prison without the slightest success. Finally, exhausted and defeated, she slumped down to the bottom and sobbed until her voice was ragged.

Cassandra Plinket had done this, just like she said she would. She’d cast her off the ship. And she was right that no one would even know she was missing until it was too late. The ship was probably sailing further away even now. In a few hours it would be dark, if it wasn’t already, and all hope of finding her would be lost. By morning she could be hundreds of miles away. For all she knew, she might not even last that long. She doubted the barrel would sink, but given that it was water tight, it was probably airtight as well. She would suffocate long before she would starve, freeze or drown. Unless…

She recalled that the barrels had a bung hole in the top. They used it to insert a pump to draw out water. If she could open it, she might at least have air for a little while longer.

Turning inside the barrel was a painful and aggravating experience. Any time she shifted her weight, the barrel would roll and tilt, throwing her off balance again. Worse, she had to sit on her knees just to feel the lid, knees that were already bruised bloody. Finally, she managed to get her hand up and felt the flat cover. There were slats that locked it in place, so she doubted she could get it open even if she had the strength, which she didn’t, but she did find the sealed hole she was looking for, if only for a moment. It felt as though the plug was well sealed, but perhaps if she could brace her back against the bottom, she could hit it with her foot.

Again, moving was horrendously painful, but more troubling was the four or five inches of water left in the barrel. On her back, she could just get her toes to touch the cover, but it nearly put her head underwater. It took six tries, but with a satisfying sound, the plug popped out and disappeared. Coughing because of the water that had gone up her nose in the attempt, Molly righted herself and blinked into the bright orange light that poured in from the two inch circle.

“HELP!” She called out in the vain hope that the ship might still be close enough to hear her. “I’M HERE! DON’T LEAVE ME! PLEASE!”

But of course, there was no answering call. There was no other sound but the gentle lapping of ocean on the sides of the barrel. For the second time, Molly broke down and sobbed herself into exhaustion, and when she looked back up to her single tiny window to the outside, she saw that the orange sky was quickly deepening into a dull purple. The sun was setting. Her final scream of frustration surprised even herself.

By the time the sky had gone dark, the temperature had dropped enough that she was really thinking that suffocation might have been a better way to go. There was no way to get dry, but she did discover that the water in the barrel with her was fresh, or mostly so, so at least she wouldn’t die thirsty. She drank her fill until she realized that she might want to take it easy. It wasn’t as though she could relieve her bladder without sitting in it, though that somehow seemed the least of her worries.

Crouched in her floating prison, she considered her options. She was really cold, but doubted that it would kill her, unfortunately. She might be able to knock her head hard enough to do the job, but the idea of trying… and failing, was enough to put that as a last resort. She might be able to tilt the barrel on its side and let it fill with water, but she’d heard that drowning was one of the more horrible ways to die. That pretty much left sitting there and waiting. And so that’s exactly what she did, shivering until she must have fallen asleep. She had horrible dreams, but remembered only her own terror when she woke some indeterminate time later. She didn’t even startle awake, she merely opened her eyes and sighed, the difference between nightmare and reality being almost non-existent.

She was somewhat surprised to see stars out the bung hole, and marveled for a moment at how bright and clear they looked. When you have nothing else to see, even the tiniest spot of light appears beautiful. With her view so limited, she could only spy a tiny fraction of the sky at a time as it passed slowly above, and so she made a game of identifying various constellations as they came across her window.

Again she slept, but this time when she woke she almost thought that it was morning, at least for a few moments. A bright light seemed to illuminate the inside of her bobbing home, and it was nearly a minute before she grasped that it was the moon directly overhead. The silver light gave her pause, and a chance to look at herself a bit, now that her eyes had adjusted. She was covered in cuts and bruises, and appeared more like a corpse than a girl, especially in the moonlight. The illumination offered no obvious means of escape from the barrel, but it did help to have seen the limits of her world. It gave her some ideas that she could try if she grew desperate enough. One advantage she had now was that her barrel was reasonably safe from sinking. If she chose to somehow break free, what then?

Eventually, the comfort of the moon’s light passed down on the horizon until it too was gone, leaving her once again with naught but the stars. She assumed that she was probably drifting with the currents and wind, which were generally to the south, but beyond that, there was simply nothing to use as a reference to tell where she was or how far she might have traveled. With boredom finally getting the best of her, she fell asleep for a third time.



Captain Scandy was led through the frigate from the ship’s brig like a condemned dog, and roughly forced through a door into the frigate’s command cabin. She was quite surprised to find that the large room was not occupied by the Captain himself, however. Stumbling forward, she took in the odd couple and finally Bethany Gainsley, her pilot. The woman was strapped to an “X” shaped rack, naked and nearly unconscious.

“What the hell?! What gives you the right to take over my ship and torture my crew!? How dare you…”

“Please, Captain, I will be asking the questions tonight,” interrupted the man in black robes. When he stood, she saw the Guild markings. He motioned to the guards that had brought her in, and they moved over to Gainsley, untying her. Once they had dragged her from the room, he continued.

“Your ship, the Pettifore, it bears a striking resemblance to the Queen’s Mistress, yes?”

“They were built together,” she said, trying to place the man. There was something familiar about him, but she was certain they had never actually met.

“Ah, I see. And you know the Captain of the Mistress?”

“I know of her,” she answered carefully. “Abigail Pennylust.”

“The Pirate…”

“So it’s been said.”

She caught the man’s slight smile. “You don’t think so?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. People say lots of things. I’ve no reason to believe one way or another. That doesn’t mean I would let her get near my ship.”

“So you haven’t seen her then?”

At this, she laughed outright.

“I just figured out who you are. You’re The Black, aren’t you?”

He bowed his head. “I am, indeed. Do you also know my reputation then?”

“Like I said, people say lots of things.”

The man walked closer to her, standing so that his face was only inches from her own.

“In my case, the rumors don’t quite do me justice.”

“You’re right. You’re much shorter than I envisioned.” Her smile was calm and steady as she stared down at him.

The woman seated nearby sniggered. “She’s good, Marus.”

Turning his back to her, the Bishop speared a small crustacean from a plate of prepared snacks and dipped it in some butter. Turning back around, he simply stood there holding the hors d´oeuvre as it dripped sauce. Scandy looked down.

“You’re making a mess of your floor,” she commented idly.

“It’s not my floor. You there,” he mentioned to one of the guards, “come over here and lick that up.”

Immediately, the uniformed man dropped to his hands and knees and began lapping at the spilled butter. Frowning, Scandy watched the display with growing discomfort.

“You see? He understands. He’s little more than an ape in a suit, and yet he grasps the situation quite clearly.”

Scandy’s face was grim. “What do you want?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

She tilted her head. “You didn’t answer mine.”

“Oh, enough, Marus, please!” exclaimed the seated woman. “You’re not going to get what you want from her, can’t you see that?”

He sighed. “Perhaps other methods will indeed be necessary… I was hoping for reason.”

“So, what now?” asked the Captain. “Are you going to torture me like you did my pilot?”

The man looked aghast. “Me? Oh, heavens no. While I’m sure that would be entertaining, there’s simply no need.”

Scandy was confused.

“She’s all yours, my dear,” he said, placing the appetizer in his mouth and turning away.

Suddenly alert, the Captain turned to the red-headed woman who she saw slowly rising from the chair she had been lounging in. Their eyes met, and she swallowed. Even though she was obviously unarmed, there was something about the way she moved that seemed… predatory.

“You’re afraid,” said the woman as a matter of fact, rather than a question. She was still moving very slowly closer, never taking her eyes away from the other. “You should be.”

The Captain stood taller, defiant in the face of whatever was to come.

“You should know, that it’s not your fault. You’re not weak. Quite the opposite. It just simply doesn’t matter.”

“What are you talking abo…”

Suddenly, the redhead moved forward in a single long step, her deep green eyes still fixed to the Captain’s. She reached out and ever so lightly touched Scandy’s hand when she was close enough, and it was as though someone had simply knocked the will out of her. Every resistance she had seemed to fall away like dry sand through her fingers, and she gasped.

She couldn’t pull back, though she wanted to. She wanted to flee or fight… anything but face the completely alien sensations that wrapped around her mind and invaded her thoughts. Lust descended upon her, pushing aside all other emotions like smoke in the wind. She felt utterly exposed and defenseless against the liquid warmth of sensuality that was slowly dripping down her body. Like a sexual fire, her passion was blazing out of control, fueled by some incendiary pleasure that the green-eyed woman was pouring into her soul.

She couldn’t fight it. She couldn’t resist it in the slightest, and every second that the woman held her eyes she felt herself growing more and more aroused and stimulated. Her breath started to come in short gasps, and her heart was pounding dangerously loud in her chest. She could feel herself grow wet, and her nipples beat uncomfortably to her own pulse as they grew and strained against the fabric of her silk shirt. In the span of only a few seconds, she started to feel herself slip over the edge into bliss. Then, all at once, she shook violently and collapsed as her knees lost strength against the force of her climax. To her horror, the woman followed her down, keeping the eye contact going… pulling at her mind.

She felt the memories leaving her, drawn out like pulling on the loose thread of a rug. She was unravelling.

When her vision refocused, she was laying on her back on the floor. The redhead was leaning over her, smiling.

“Yes… This is going to be so much more fun.”

“Wh-what did you do to m-me?” whispered the Captain, her body spent and limp.

“I took a part of you, Reese. I snatched it from your mind while you were lost in ecstasy.”


The woman’s callus laugh was frightening. “Because I can! Because that’s how I grow. I take the memories and experiences of others and make them my own. And I have to say,” she continued, licking her lips, “that I very much enjoyed what I tasted of your life, Captain.”

“You… can’t.”

“Oh yes, I can. You see, I could stop now and you would survive. Your mind would reconnect what I took and you would likely recover completely. But I’m not going to. You had your chance to answer our questions and you chose defiance.”

She felt something at her chest and realized that the woman was unbuttoning her blouse.

“So now I’m going to give you more pleasure in the next few minutes than you have experienced in all the rest of your life to date. I’m going to make you come over and over so that I can acquire every last bit of knowledge you hold.” She turned to the bishop. “They met Pennylust the day before last. They’re on their way to Ringlet. Amberly is with them.”

“Nooo…” moaned Scandy, realizing the betrayal she was being forced to give. She heard the man suck in his breath.

“And Marus, she has the Arn. She’s been using it.”

“I’ll make arrangements with the Captain,” he said simply and left the room.

When the woman turned her gaze back to Reese, she knew her doom was at hand. Willingly or not, she had already given up her friend, as well as the girl that had likely saved her ship. For their sakes, she needed to try and fight back. But what could she possibly do?

“It’s time to teach me to sail, Captain…”

Screwing up every last ounce of will, Scandy clamped her eyes shut. “No! I w-won’t give th-that to you!”

“Silly woman. What makes you think you have a choice?” She could feel her shirt being pulled open. A moment later the redhead’s warm hands slid up over both of her breasts, her fingers sliding around the Captain’s hard nipples. With a sharp gasp, her eyes burst open and she arched her back against a wave of pure pleasure. And there was the woman, her deep green eyes staring down into her, smiling as she was pushed right into new bliss. Captain Scandy barely had time to draw breath before her whole world was tumbling into pieces and being drawn away. She could hear the other laughing as she was fed upon, as her entire life was stolen. The thought of that monster gaining all her learned skills and experience at sea, was enough to give her a tiny moment of clarity. And in that moment, she found and latched onto a single thought, wrapping it up in another thought so that the two were effectively one. And then she was gone, buried alive in her own ecstasy.

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