POTC fic

Written in October or November last year as well as I can remember. It’s unfinished, but there’s a fair bit of it here, a pleasant five thousand words.
It’s called “Bonny Jack And The Red-headed Whore” but that’s just a working title. There seems to be an adventure yarn beginning here- all I wanted to write was a quick little sex xtory! I’m hoping to lure an unsuspecting victim (well, she suspects, actually) into collaborating with me to complete it.
DISCLAIMERS: Jack Sparrow belongs to The Mouse, not me. I’m only petting him.
PAIRING: Jack/various original characters
RATING: adult, what else would you expect?
WARNINGS: Vanilla Het sex, and a little violence.

part one; The ship comes in

Me legs locked around his waist and how he moaned- The earthenware cup dropped from Dulcey’s nerveless fingers and splashed back into the soapy water. Swearing, she plunged her arms in after it, and got back to work.

Just in time, too; The scullery door swung open, and a blast of music, laughter, and drunken curses swept in, followed by Marina with another basket of dirties.

“Y’re going to get beaten, if you don’t move yer arse! Old Tom’s screaming for pint mugs.” Marina warned, and rattled her load onto the table next the sink.

“I’ve some few clean” Dulcey said, and gestured towards the basket standing by. “And he can damn well be grateful. I din’t run away from farm to wash dishes… Can’t anybody find Daft Josie? I could be making better money out there.”

“It’s slow yet, sweets” Marina assured her. “The big ship ain’t finished docking, the boys won’t be here for another hour yet. I’ll cut out and see if I can find Josie.”
Dulcey smiled over her shoulder at the dark-eyed slattern, who was already shouldering her load. Once again, the noise and heat invaded the relatively quiet slops room and died away again. Dulcey turned back to the sink, and her reverie

-Such a lovely little man, almost only a boy still, his hot breath against my neck, and gawds, his cock dancing in me cunny-With a start, she pulled herself back to her job.

Whores don’t fall in love. This wasn’t love she was feeling, just.. what? Lust, or tendresse, p’raps, a word some of them Frenchie girls used. Honestly, she hadn’t thought about him for ages! It was just that- it was his ship, docking now. Would he seek her out, or indeed, remember her at all?

-The devil looked from those eyes when he smiled at me-There! Another basket of mugs and goblets ready.–Strong thighs between my legs… Back to it, bitch, ‘tis yer job for now.-

Working with industry, she laid basket after basket of clean- or, at any rate, less-dirty- mugs and pots on the sideboard. From time to time, Marina or another of the serving girls would swing through the creaking old door and trade one load for another. Dulcey began to worry; If Daft Josie didn’t come back to slave in her scullery once again, would the sink be her lot all night? She did not want to lose the trade of a big Privateer’s crew, fresh in with silver in their pockets. The first night they were in was always the best, for the whores, with plenty of unspent gold in the boys’ hands.

The door burst open once more, and a voice called her name, over the din.

“Where have ye been Josie, ye daft biddy!” she yelled. “Drunk in some ditch no doubt, well, I’ll thank you to take yer place at this sink!”

But it wasn’t Josie at all. A mug brimming with rum plunked down next to her. A pair of be-ringed brown hands, weather-beaten, slim, and strong, came around her waist and up to cup her breasts. The salt scent of a seaman came welcome to her nostrils, and gladly she leaned back into the longed-for arms.

“Now why do I find my red-haired Dulcey in the scullery?” he laughed. “Have you given up the whore’s life, is that it? Don’t wash that one, it’s in use.”

“Eh, bonny Jack, is’t really ye? Dear lord, and I’ve only this old dress on yet- get ye out of here, leave me till the daft old bitch comes back. Or there’ll be no pots for yer grog.”

“Kiss me, hello, love- if you want my money!” Jack pulled her around. Dulcey looked at him in some surprise. “Ye’ve changed, my boy.” she blurted. The most noticeable difference was the hair, which in her memory fell soft and shining about his face. Somewhere during his travels, it had been braided into many thin plaits, and those plaits had knotted and tangled until there was no hope ever of combing them out again. Beads and a few foreign coins seemed to be threaded in as well. There was a wispy mustache, and a few hairs of a beard. There was a lot of kohl, deepening his eyesockets. Many seamen did that, to keep the sun’s glare from dimming vision. It certainly made his flashing eyes more brilliant, but there were new lines around those eyes, and a hardness in them. And a thinness in the once-innocent mouth. Then he smiled, and the youth of him showed once more.

Dulcey threw her arms around him and met his mouth with hers. He kissed her hard and hungry, sliding his tongue deep into her mouth, till it triggered her to suck at it. Her eyes flickered open for a minute to see his, squeezed tight shut. His hold tightened. The heart pounding in his chest, and the heat in his groin spoke of a sailor’s need. At length he let her pull back a little and her mouth went to his neck instead. She tasted the salt of the sea on his brown skin.

“Come along, darlin’ let’s go your room,” he urged.

But as she was about to agree, Hester ran in from the bar for yet another basket of drinking vessels. “Marina’s gone searching for Daft Josie,” she said, pushing the hair away from her face. “Well hello, ‘tis pretty Jack Sparrow!” her shrill voice turned to a professional purr suddenly. “Have ye need o’ company?”

“Get out bitch, he’s got no need of you!” Dulcey growled. She left his embrace long enough to thrust a basket of crockery towards her rival. “There, take it and get ye gone!

“Oh, Jackie,” she turned back to him; “If’n I leave off the scullery now, I’ll lose me berth sure. ‘Tis sellin’ the drink is all Old Tom cares about, ye ken? I promised to stay till th’ old slut heaves her rotten carcass back here.”

“Now love, we won’t be losing you your job.” Jack assured her.

He looked so sympathetic. –p’raps he does love me- Then she thought that his sympathy was mostly for himself, and his own hard prick, pressed along the length of his breeches. She gave herself a mental slap –stop fooling yerself, stupid bitch, ye’ll be turnin’ into a mooncalf, same as that old slattern Josie-

Well, she knew how he felt. For the whole day she’d been having him on her mind; Hours of erotic dreaming will make a girl heavy and uncomfortable in the nethers. And his desire only flamed her own. And if she couldn’t do something, he would leave to find some girl quicker available. Well, she was a good story teller.

“I’ve been thinking on ye all the day, Jackie, soon as yer ship was sighted,” she began. “’Tis been a sore trial to me, I’ll tell ye!”

“Is that so?” his eyes gleamed with pleased interest.

“Oh, aye, lad.” she assured him. “At the sink I been dancing, like this-“ she turned her back to him and demonstrated, washing a clay mug while shifting from leg to leg, her hips twitching. She put the mug on a basket and looked over her shoulder at him. He cocked his head at her, inquiringly. “Well, you see, darlin,’” she explained, “I can rub me cunny ‘gainst me thighs that way…” and laughed at the thunderstruck look on his face. “I’m right wet, I’ll admit to ye!” She turned back to her washing. ” And all for thinking o’ ye.“

“Hah.” Jack muttered. “Yet you’ll not come away right now? We haven’t seen port in three months, lass!”

“Ah, quit foolin’,” she scoffed. “Everyone knows yer midshipman is right clever wi’ his tongue.”

“And I will admit that’s handy on long voyages, but he can’t make me happy like a woman will.”

“Oh now, why not?” Dulcey was truly curious on this subject. She had heard stories from many sailors about this gifted fellator.

“Simply put, I can’t make him happy.” Once again he stepped up just behind her and held himself close to her busy back. “And that’s what makes me happiest, darlin.’” He slid a hand down her bodice to her breast, making her squirm. “Ah, yesss… Let’s try that again, shall we?” he pinched and rolled her nipple once more; His cock pressed against her backside as she moved. “What makes you happy- makes me happy, savvy?”

“Happy? Dulcey gasped. “Tis wicked torment!” and then she yelped and clutched his hand to keep it where it was. “Nay, nay, I was only foolin’! Torment me more, Jackie.”

“Dulcey, more crockery!” Hester warned, coming into the room. ”The big ship is in, and all the boys are thirsty.”

Dulcey waved a hand in the vague direction of the baskets she’d been building up. Her other hand was gripping the edge of the sink for support, while Jack assaulted her back, both hands busy in her bodice and his hips grinding against her arse. “Oof, ye sweet lummox!” she complained. “Ye’ll be knocking me into the water- and spilling yerself inside yer breeches, Jackie darlin’- wait a minute or so longer, can’t ye?”

“Dulcey,” Jack spoke hoarsely; “I need some mercy here… Can’t you leave off your chores, just for a moment? I’ll be so grateful to ye when we’ve a better time…”

“It’ll cost ye, darlin’” Dulcey became the business woman in a flash. She even suffered to let him have one hand free, to withdraw a silver shilling from his wallet, which he dropped into her soapy fingers. She slipped it into her pocket hastily, before it should slide out of her hand.

“Three more like that would keep me for ye all the night, laddie” she said, drying her hands on her skirt. –and keep ye by me, dear darlin’ boy- She pocketed the extra payment with a glee that had little to do with the chiming roundels. Hester had slammed the door to with a sound of finality; She knew better than to come between a co-worker and a client, no matter where they were.

Jack loosed his Kraken-like grip on her, and she turned to face him and be kissed again, while he unbuckled his big belt and let his effects drop with a clatter to the stone floor. They waltzed in a half-circle. Pulling her bodice open, Jack leaned in hungrily to suckle on her breasts.

Dulcey looked down, at the delicate bones of his face and the wild-man hair, so dark against her fair, freckled skin. She opened his shirt, pushed his face away from her breasts, so that she could tongue his own rosy dark nipples, sniff in his strong and clean scent.

“Get me tackle out, Dulcey.” he pled, his hips working against the dusty canvas of his breeches.

She let her mouth slide down, her hands busy at his waistband. The fabric came loose; she rolled it down his legs, exposing silky brown skin, a nest of dark curls and his hot, hard prick. She slipped her hand between his legs. Jack groaned and leaned back against the scullery board, and took her head in his hands, pulled her towards him. Dulcey guided his cock into her mouth and sucked down hard. His balls in her hand, the pulsing of blood in the space just behind them, assured her that this was going to be a quickly-earned coin, and indeed, he battered the back of her throat once, twice, three times, and came, in a great shout of relief. She lay her arms around his hips, and rested her face against his belly, swallowed his salty spume, then looked up, smiling.

Jack rolled his neck, stretched and relaxed his shoulders. “Ah, lassie, you don’t know the good you’ve done me just now.” he said with a flash of white teeth, and pulled her up. “Now I might have the patience needed to wait out this servitude of yours…”

Dulcey groaned in her turn. “And how’m I to stand it, damn ye?” She put her hands on her hips. “Din’t I tell ye how aching I am in the quim? Have ye no thought to the pain I’m in?” She stormed over to the window that looked out onto the alley. “That crazy old bitch Josie!” she muttered.

Jack, grinning, was tying his breeches cord, bouncing his yard into place. “You touch me heart, darlin’, but what’s to be done?” he laughed, and picked his pistol up off the floor. “You don’t want to lose your berth, I remember you saying. And I see new crockery piled up for you. You weren’t attending to business, love.”

The unfairness of this quibble stung. “Well, damn it all, then.” Dulcey said and haughtily turned back to the sink, cursing as she washed. Jack lay his articles in a neat pile on the side. He rested his elbows on the scullery board next to her, watching with great interest. “So this is women’s work, is it?” He fielded the mug she hurled in the general direction of the table, and set it neatly in its basket.

“Not my work, laddie. I din’t intend to be swilling pigs ever again. Me own mother told me when I turned thirteen, me corpus was me fortune in hand- No, don’t you touch me bubbies again!” She shied away from his hand, pouting; “Jackie, I won’t stand it, I won’t! ‘tisn’t fair! Yer just makin’ me cunny wet.” She pushed the suds about a moment and said; “…’tis runnin’ down me legs, the wet…”

A few minutes later, she caught his astonished face with the flat of her hand. “Jack Sparrow, have ye no manners at all? Sauce for the gander is sauce for the goose; I done for ye, now ye do for me!”

“And what will that cost me?” he touched his jaw gingerly. “How did I deserve such a buffet?” he added as an afterthought.

“For bein’ a thick lump, wi’ no pity on a girl! Sixpence.” If he was willing to pay her yet again, why not? Jack reached over to his wallet, now laying on the table with his things. He jingled the coins in his hands.

“I’ll tell you what, love.” he said. “You’ll earn this by washing, what do you say? What I mean is, you won’t stop piling these mugs on the board, no matter what you’re feeling. How’s that for a wager?”

“But I want to stop,” Dulcey whined. Jack took a handful of her old, coarse skirt and began to lift the hem.

“Mustn’t stop, savvy? Or…“ he grinned; “no petting pussy.” He placed a warm hand on her leg. “Get to work, lovie.” Giggling, Dulcey picked up a pot out of the water.

Jack insinuated his thigh between hers and the scullery board, and his questing hand found its target. He held her, cupped; Dulcey groaned and pressed herself against his fingers.

“Y’see, Jackie?” she gasped.

“Yes, but you have to work, Dulcey” he reminded her. His clever fingers slid deeper between her labia. This let her press her little button against the heel of his hand, and she shuddered blissfully, as a long-awaited orgasm overtook her. “That was fast!”

“Not to me- I waited all the day, near enough!”

“I don’t think I got my sixpence worth at all.” Jack objected. “t’was so sudden.”

“Well, it was only a little one, then.” Dulcey conceded. She bore down once more.

Jack purred to feel the contractions, slower this time, and fluttered his fingers to make her wriggle. “Ah, Darlin’, you’re as wet as the big ocean herself” he said huskily, and pulled his hand out to show her the pool of crystalline moisture in his palm. Sighing, he lifted it to his lips to taste. “The ocean is a woman, an’ she’s in every woman, too” he told her. “I want to dive in, darlin’.” And he slid his back down the scullery board to sit flat on the floor. He pushed her back a few steps, slid over, and pulled her back up again, lifted her skirts and disappeared under them.

Dulcey straddled his body. She felt the heat of him, and his ticklish hair against her thighs- his questing face, finding its way into her crotch, his strong hands roaming her legs and arse. She felt his hot breath, whispering past her groin, as he upturned his head and opened his mouth on her cunt.

Her legs opened wider, lowering herself down to him a little more. His sucking mouth pulled her near entire in- her lips, her button- deliciously, his tongue found its way between her folds and into her cunny, aided by his fingers. Dulcey groaned in earnest now, gripping the edge of the board for support, and a fingertip slipped into her arsehole. All thoughts of washing were gone; Dulcey could only hang on to her support, while the wonderful sensations overtook her.

Behind her, the door opened.

“Well, I’ll be!” Marina said loudly. From her vantage point, she saw her friend in the throes of a fit of some kind, and a pair of booted legs sticking out the wrong way, from under her skirts. Then she laughed, as the image made sense to her.

“Hold the door to, Marina!” Dulcey panted, shivered and shuddered, rocking herself hard against Jack’s supporting hands. “Oh gawds, Jackie!”
She fell, all of a heap, into his lap. “Oh, my sweet, my precious!” The skirt fell away from his flushed face, and she kissed him frantically. ”Yer a lovely man, Jack!”
Jack looked over the top of her head.

“I’ll pay ye double for a mug of ale, lassie,” he said. “And is it too much to hope that my girl can be freed of this noisome place? Fun’s fun, but a soft bed…”

“Oh aye, I was comin’ te tell ye,” Marina remembered. “We found Josie, and she’ll be along directly, and I’ll bring ye yer ale, Jack Sparrow.”

“Ooh, Jack.” Dulcey said again. “I never felt a thing like that afore, darlin’ man!” She gazed at him with love in her eyes.

He settled her more comfortably on his lap, and grinned. “Ta, lovie” he said, accepting a big clay mug from Marina. “If you’d throw me my wallet- Ah, thanks once again.” He fished out a copper penny. “Will this be enough for your trouble?” He pulled mightily from the mug, and tipped it for the girl he was cuddling.

“Fair parched, I was” she agreed, and shifted her body. Under her, she could feel his cock hardening once again. Jack tossed his head back like a girl, breathing through his open mouth. His lids fell over his eyes, his hands gripped at her waist.

“This will kill me early.” he said, and grinned at the melodramatic sound of his words.

“No need for that!” Marina said. “Josie, get to yer place and let yer betters go back to their own work!”

“Betters, is it?” The noisome presence of Daft Josie hobbled into the room. “Little sluts- I was as good as ye once. I knew yer father, I did.” she added, pointing a claw-like finger. “ye got t’look o’he. But” she added, as Jack climbed to his feet. “Ye’ve not got his statoor.”

“He’s a tall man” Jack agreed gravely. “And will you raise a glass to my father, Josie?”

She took the copper, cackling. “Thankee young’n! Aye, ye be yer old man all over again. Kindly manners ye Sparras have, like lords o’ th’ land, I’ll be bound.”

Dulcey glowered, and gathered herself against the seaman’s side. Josie grimaced back at her, and stroked a sweetly freckled cheek, gently, with her grimy thumb. “Little missy, ye’ve some lovely times ahead, wiv yer pretty face.”

“Keep yer hands off me, ye old bitch.” the girl muttered, but her manner subsided a little.

Jack smiled deprecatingly. “Ladies, if you’ll allow us-” he murmured. He deftly shook out a big red cloth and laid his discarded effects into it. Tying the corners to make a sailor’s bundle, he hoisted it over one arm and offered the other to Dulcey. “We really must be off. It’s been lovely all around though…” Two strides brought him abreast with Marina, and he paused once more. “Bless you for that ale, darlin’” he told her, and kissed her deeply, pulled away- and then met her lips once again. His arm went around Marina’s shoulder… Dulcey shook his other arm.

“Excuse me.” he said, breaking free.

“I could come along, if you like.” Marina said, a little breathlessly.

Jack looked from the redhead on his arm, to the brunette in front of him. “I think… not tonight, love,” he said. “But the ship lies in harbor all the week. Perhaps later…” He smiled and settled his hat onto his head, and guided Dulcey out of the scullery, through the barroom, and out onto the street.

“And me in this ugly ol’ skirt!” Dulcey fumed. It seemed that every woman, and many men, wanted to talk with the handsome young seaman. She was acutely conscious of the envious looks the girls were giving her. “I’d as soon look nice f’ye, Jackie.”

“You look beautiful, love” Jack said absently. Y’know, the women in Venice? They don’t wear no underskirt. Just a pair of silken knickers, and an overskirt. How about that, eh?”

“No!” Dulcey was astounded. “’Tis wicked sinful!”

“Nay, it’s not.” Jack said fervently “You’d look lovely Dulcey, I’ll bring you a dress, would you wear it?”

“Well…” Dulcey began, doubtfully. But she was interrupted, by a burly man who bounced into their path, forcing the two youngsters to a stop.

“Evening to ye, little missy, young master.”

“Hello, Mac Pherson.” Jack said. He spoke calmly, but Dulcey could feel the tenseness in his arm that drew her close, and then set her behind his shoulder.

The man stood solidly, cocking his head humorously. But the smile on his lips didn’t reach his eyes.

“Yer father owes me money, Jackie.” he said, and folded massive arms over a massive chest.

“My father owes you nothing.”

“Aye, he does then. And I’ll be having it.”

Jack sighed. “Damn him” he muttered, so quietly only Dulcey heard him. “Red Mac Pherson.” he said clearly. “The debt you speak of is a mere will o’ the wisp, that you carry in your imagination.”

“What you be about boy?” The man looked honestly puzzled.

“I said, you’re fooling yourself, Red.” Jack said patiently. “There’s no debt. You get nothing. There’s nothing to get, Red, the voyage was not profitable.”

“Ye look t’be doing all right.” the man’s face twisted and lost any vestige of good humor it once held. “If th’ sire can’t pay me, the whelp will.”

Jack’s hand found Dulcey’s hip, and pressed back against it. The pressure increased, until she suddenly realized that he wanted her to move back. Step by step, she crept away, urged on by his waving hand down by his own hipside. “My money is my own, you daft cretin!” he said with real passion. “You know that.”

“And my money is lost!” Red roared. “Hand it over, Jack!” He pulled a pistol from his belt.

“Nay.” Jack replied, and drew his sword.

“Jackie, Jackie, what’re ye doing then?” the man said in a sort of sarcastic exasperation. He looked quizzically from his firearm to the length of steel that the young man held at rest. Dulcey, trembling against the alley wall, watched as if in a dream, the man point the lethal little pistol towards her beloved’s breast, and the sword swing up in parry. And several things seemed to happen at once. Red screamed. The gun fired. Dulcey heard the bullet thunk against the wall near her ear. And Jack danced back, a red stain blossoming on the left side of his jerkin. Red, however, stood with a look of horror on his face, before crumpling quietly at the knees, and thence to the ground.

“Damn him.” Jack said, and again; “Damn him! Dulcey darling, are you safe?”

I’m well, Jackie- but ye’ve been hurt!”

“Well, so has he,” Jack said grimly. “And worse. Here, help me roll him over.” He grunted with the effort, but the corpse was soon turned face up, although Dulcey hadn’t yet mastered her trembling knees well enough to come near. His hands rifled through the clothing, coming up with the man’s wallet, which he pocketed. A tug at the neck freed a gold chain, with a charm hanging from it. Jack pulled at the boots, discovering a small knife, which he scrutinized with approval before tucking it into his own belt alongside the pistol which had so recently menaced him. He dropped the shotbag into his own pouch, and turned to the girl.

“Come along, love.” he said gaily. In a daze, she took the arm he proffered, and they started off once more. The whole episode from Red’s appearance to the looting of the body, had taken less than three minutes.

“Jackie, you’re hurt!” she said again.

“Oh, that.” Jack investigated his left side quickly, then pulled his arm- and hers- tight against it once more “Just hold hard, lassie, till we get to your rooms, all right? ‘Ain’t life threatening, don’t worry…”

“My chemise, though!” she hissed. She could feel his blood seeping into her sleeve.

“Love, I’ll get you something new, I swear it… I think no one saw this little incident, do you? No windows…”

Dulcey looked back at the lump of flesh in the alleyway. It came to her, with horrible clarity, that this man must have intended to murder Jack, and her besides. He had chosen exactly the cul-de-sac in which to do it. She shuddered, and hurried her beau along.

“There was no help for it.” Jack said sadly. He leaned on the post as she manipulated the heavy lock which secured her rooms.

“Up the steps, Jackie, can ye?”

“Of course.” he said, but he faltered on the ladder, more than once. Clucking, she got him seated on a little wooden bench, pulled his jerkin off and his linen shirt over his head. She lifted the elbow to view the damage at his ribs.

“Tisn’t deep.” she told him, “but it’s fair bleeding. I’ll have a poultice, hold hard”

”It’s a trifle painful, too” Jack admitted. “Damn him to the fires of hell!” he burst out suddenly. “If only he had waited. It’s the second trip, that’s the one that will bring us the money.”

Dulcey threw some precious tea leaves into a tin of boiling water, and dropped a rag into it. Patting the cooled rag over the laceration made him hiss, but it staunched the flow. She bound a clean cloth about his chest, to hold the poultice in place.

He moved to her bed, and grinned at her. “Have ye bolted the door?” he asked. “I want no more interruptions.”

Dulcey smirked. “As if not!”

Reassured, Jack pulled out the wallet and chain he’d taken from Red’s corpse. He opened the neck of the leather bag, and poured out a glittering handful of golden sovereigns over the coverlet.

“That can’t be the all of it.” he said, thoughtfully. He looked at the chain, and its charm. “It is a key, isn’t it… Well my pretty, where is your lock, I wonder?”

To be continued…