It's worth noting that this story comes from a very hashed out teenage fantasy of mine that I've tried my best to put a proper prose spin on it. It started life a lot less polished as I'm sure you can imagine; little more than something to quickly tease out an orgasm under the sheets. So to speak. That was the challenge. Bringing it up to my somewhat demanding writing standards without changing the original dynamic. I think I did pretty well with it. Either way I hope you enjoy it. If you like my writings, I have both a Patreon and Kofi account. More perks can be found on my Patreon of course. Art polls, story polls, creative inputs. The works. If you just want to support my work then my Kofi might be for you. Any support gets me closer to being able to write full time.

www.patreon.com/white66

www.Kofi.com/peterj

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The sun was high in the sky as clear blue as the ocean that both surrounded it and the expansive tropical island it surrounded. Little more than miles after miles of pure white sandy beaches, it was as close to paradise as you could find. Which was one reason of many that Captain Rook had claimed it as her own. Such was her power in these waters that few would dare think about challenging that claim. Raven haired, dark skinned and spoken like the English Duchess she had been, Georgia Rook could curse like the pirate she very much looked the part for. Usually stylishly dressed in her traditional red coat festooned with gold braid and gold buttons alike, black britches with twin flintlock pistols low slung on her hips and white shirt with fetching ruffles around the collar. Just because one was a pirate didn't mean one couldn't dress stylishly. Of course, Captain Rook wasn't just a pirate, she was the pirate in these waters; with all others paying homage and tribute to her. Save one upon whose ship she now stood, the once proud Mary D'Breast still beached on the very sands Captain Rook had run her aground on ten years hence in her pursuit of the Captain who had dared contest her Sovereignty of these waters. A Captain it is rumoured Captain Rook had forced into the tar pits at the centre of the island before leaving her to her fate.

Rumoured because none of her crew were fool enough to go seeking any proof of such an act, not with the Captain guarding almost jealously the maps both of and to this secluded island. Not even with the other rumours that long buried treasure lies somewhere under these shifting sands. No, the only call they had to come here was at the bidding of their Captain. Usually to the Westward shores for literally a little shore leave and respite from the hard graft of the pirate life, a respite made all the sweeter for the company of a tribe of gorgeous tribal women who pledge homage and service to the buxom pleasure goddess they serve. But today was not a trip of such leisure but a day of serious business for the ships crew and especially her Captain.

Anyone looking on would be forgiven for thinking otherwise since all of the crew were dressed not in the simple cotton shirts and pants that were the uniform of an average day; the simple working clothes shed in favour of bikinis in a variety of colours and styles. Wellall but one. But we will come to him in a minute.

While it wasn't unheard of to find a male serving under the Flag of Queen Brunhilde, the attitude that a man should only serve on land still held to by some as tradition if not law, it was very much against the grain on the ship of Captain Rook. And had it not been for a lucky happenstance the ships compliment would likely still be all female.

'Bring out the prisoner.' Not one to stand on pomp or circumstance, Captain Rook gave the signal for her first officer to begin the proceedings with a subtle nod that heralded that call which had the rest of the crew stand to attention.

That imposing cry was followed by the heavy creak of long unused hinges complaining as the door set into the raised foredeck that lead down to the austere crew quarters below opened to reveal the one male aboard this otherwise emancipated crew.

Except technically the young man being escorted out in heavy chains and manacles of polished silver wasn't part of the crew. Youthful, bright eyed and with a certain shy innocence about him, the short black haired young man that was Peter too was dressed in an article of swimwear, thankfully being some loose swimming shorts, a bikini not having suited his lithe but still masculine frame. It was also thankful they were loose for another more personal reason. A little scrawny and with awkwardly spiky black hair, Peter had the endearing appearance of one a few years shy of his actually age; still very much akin to a cute boy rather than a handsome man.


'Peter.' Captain Rook rose solemnly to fix him dead in the eye. 'Are you prepared to answer the charges placed before you today.'

'Answer her.' Came the stern retort from beside him, one of his bikini clad escorts digging her elbow into his ribs gently but firmly.

'I am prepared.' Peter replied as confidently as he could manage.

'Good.' Captain Rook's voice cut across the silence that followed. 'You stand accused on some very serious charges today. One; that you have consistently and knowingly gone above and beyond in the discharge of your duties. Two; most seriously, you have earned the respect and loyalty of your shipmates in the finest traditions of this vessel. And three; that you have placed yourselves in danger not just to protect this ship and it's crew many times over. Therefore it is with great pride that I raise you up from crewman to shipmate, with all the respect and privileges that come with it. Once that is, you have claimed your badge of office.'


Despite the humiliating nature of this playful pretence of a trial, Peter couldn't help a swell of pride. This was a day he had long awaited and worked for. One that came with unexpected privations and perks alike. Being only one male on an otherwise female crew, he found little deference or provision for his gender, having to share the communal spaces with the near two dozen other ladies. Sleeping, eating and showering alike. Never did they seem to mind having him around, often undressing or dressing casually in his presence like it was the most natural thing in the world. As they often walked in on him when he was either half dressed or undressed. While he was also the butt of many teasing, playful jokes all the crew loved him like a little brother. One of which was that they had joked that he could wear one of their thongs today, leaving him very thankful they had found him something more suitable. And more modest. Now that his initial nerves had faded, Peter couldn't help being aware of the tantalising sight of the bikini clad ladies before him revealing more nubile female flesh than they concealed. Feeling a sudden swell in his loins he resisted the urge to move his hands to cover himself, hoping the loose shorts would do that and praying the hastily tied knot would hold. He would die of mortification if they slipped down around his ankles now.

At least he had the distraction of not knowing why they were here. Of course, they were here for his promotion ceremony if you could call it that. What he didn't understand was why here, on this derelict yet clearly well maintained ship that was almost as shipshape as the Captain's own. True the timbers were, unsurprisingly, a little more bleached by the sun. Neither had she any sails or rigging to speak off. But then why would she need them, given that she was run aground in unknown circumstances. Also unknown was why the crew was gathering eagerly around the raised lip of the oblong opening in the main deck that must lead to the ships hold. No stranger to life at sea, Colin had instantly recognised this design as a once proud merchant ship, meant to carry more cargo than people in each of the two holds set in the fore and midships of the vessel; her name barely visible as it had been eroded by the slow exposure to the elements. One that had likely carried tea or molasses or sugar or some such. So what could she hold now that would be of such riveting interest to the gathered crew.

Before he could even think about asking that question out loud, Peter got his answer as he was marched over to the raised lip by the two ladies still firmly grasping his arms; his eyes going wide the second he glanced down into the hold.

A hold that must have been ten feet deep at least if he was any judge. Yet it wasn't the depth or the drop that gave him pause. It was the fact that it was filled to just shy of that with cool, thick and brilliantly white cream that stretched out to a pit six feet square. Even before Peter had joined with her crew, he had heard whispered rumours of the proclivities of Captain Rook and the debauched perversions she took great delight in introducing to any ladies she made captive of. Particularly he recalled one tale of how she had captured three redheaded Irish beauties and, after stripping them naked, locked each in a barrel that slowly filled with thickly dark and sweet molasses. Until today he had considered such tales just that. It seemed he had been wrong.

Peter's attentions suddenly returned to the present as the familiar squeaking and creaking of a rope being moved through a pulley reached his ears. Eyes torn away from the creamy white mass before him, he couldn't avoid seeing the long curved cutlas being lowered before him to hang right over the middle of that pit; hanging exactly level with the smooth wooden plank that was pushed out over the middle of it with a faint scraping of wood.

'You know the challenge before you. Simply retrieve the sword and a full member of this crew will you be.'

That almost stern phrase came from the imposing figure that was the ships first officer; Devillia Hunter. As strict a disciplinarian as she was fierce in battle, two qualities that had earned her the nickname Devil that was used with nothing but fondness by the crew. For she asked a lot and gave even more when anyone needed her. Including the Captain. While Captain Rook filled the familial roles both of father and big sister all wrapped up in one package, then Devillia was definitely the mother to the crew. Possessed of a firm hand and a friendly ear, she took the whole crew under her wing in just the way they needed her to. Which in Colin's case meant looking after him as a son, always fussing over him with motherly affection that was the source of many of the teasing jibes he received with good humour. Today though she very much had her first officers coat on despite wearing little more than a white bikini that sat perfectly over her smooth cocoa skin warming under the summer breeze that tugged at her short black hair pulled back into a neat ponytail.


Peter blushed a little, her perhaps not accidental use of the words full member bringing his still hard erection to the front of his attention. Hoping that didn't show and feeling gripped by a sudden surge of boldness, Peter raised his hands to before him in silent request for his bonds to be removed.

'Oh..yes. How foolish of me.' Devillia said with a nod to the ladies beside him. 'Lacy..Stacyrelease the prisoner.'

Being the taller of the two, Lacy was forced to duck a little as she unsheathed the sharp dagger fixed on the plain tan belt she wore above her bikini, her loose sandy blonde hair brushing both against her shoulders and his neck as she worked the blade through the ropes until they fell away with a snap. Which left him wondering why Stacy had drawn her own ships issue knife from the matching belt she wore, the only thing Stacy's hair brushed was the curve of her cheeks, the blue eyed beauty preferring to keep her hair as long as possible just to flirt with Olive the quartermaster and ships cook who had a rumoured thing for long haired girls.

Peter had known Lacy and Stacy right from his first day aboard ship. While they were bunk mates to each other, to Peter they were his best friends and the first he had made after coming aboard. Not to mention his secret longtime crushes. Or maybe not so secret since he often had the sneaking suspicion they knew how he felt. In reality the whole crew knew how he felt, often conspiring to lead him into mortifyingly embarrassing situations he now looked back on fondly when he was alone, idly wondering if this might become one of them.

Any question or doubt about that was removed as with another nod from the first officer, Stacy hooked the tip of her knife under the cord holding his shorts tight to his waist and quickly slashed through it. Feeling that, Peter's first instinct was to grab at his suddenly loosened trunks. Yet for the moment they seemed content to not move despite the sudden failure of the knot. Even so his cheeks flared as hot as the sun overhead with the worry his naked body and firm erection would be fully on display for the gathered crew to see. He had been naked before several of them in the past but standing here in front of them all was something he wasn't prepared for.

'Nowput him on the plank.' Devillia commanded with a sly grin. 'Ohand give him a kiss for good luck.'

Peter didn't resist as he was moved right to the edge of the smooth plank, the arms that held him released as soon as he stood with both feet upon the sun warmed wood; his cheeks tinged a deeper pink as both Lacy and Stacey lightly placed a kiss upon them in perfect unison before retreating to watch the show.

As if that wasn't distracting enough, Peter couldn't help hearing the whispered comments of the crew, some of which bordered on the lewd and suggestive. With a slow breath, he pushed them away, letting the words wash over him. For Peter was an avid student of meditation, something he hadn't expected to work for him like this.

'He'll never make it. No one has.'

'10 crowns says he does.'

'10 says he doesn't.'

Let's hope those don't slip.'

'Let's hope they do.'

Let's hope that doesn't make him overbalance.

Peter really tried to ignore that suggestive comment about his manhood that clearly hadn't gone unnoticed by everyone; along with the titters that followed it, as well as the flash of coin he couldn't help seeing Captain Rook take from a still grinning Devillia; the two officers apparently having a wager of their own going. He tried not to think which way they were betting.

Another steadying breath was drawn in and Peter kept his eyes firmly on the sword above him, cutting out everything around him including his naked state. Before he could lose his nerve, he crouched low, paused and then leapt. Time slowed for Peter, his hand reaching outstretched for the hanging sword, inching closer and closer until his fingers closed around it. With his weight pulling it free from the loose clasp, Peter succumbed to the pull of gravity and back down he went as all things must, time speeding back up to normal in his mind. Perhaps it was that and the lack of time he had to think. Or perhaps it was sheer dumb luck. Whatever it was, it guided Peter to land with both feet squarely on the wooden plank he had so recently leapt from. Yes, he wobbled a little as he landed; his body twisting from one side to the other in the fight to keep his balance. But keep his balance he did, slowly allowing his stance to return to normal as his security in his footing returned.

'Bravo. Bravo to you both.' The Captain rose with applause of her own that the crew echoed. 'I was sure you would end up in the cream. And you know how I hate to be disappointed.'

His eyes suddenly wide, Peter realised too late what she meant. Before he could even think about moving, let alone actually move so much as an inch, the Captain flicked out an elegantly aimed kick at the end of the plank which sent it and the hapless youth tumbling into the cream filled pit below where he landed with a loud and satisfying splash. Luckily for him he both landed and sank feet first, his arms and legs immediately working to bring him back to the surface with a gasp. Now bobbing on the surface of the thick cream that clung to every inch of him up from his shoulders that above it and from everything down that lay beneath, Peter became aware of the teasing laughter floating down to him from above as the crew pressed closer for a better look. As he floated Peter had the sneaking suspicion that something had changed, but it took him a long moment to realise that his trunks were missing, doubtless lost to the bottom of the hold by now. At least he could be thankful that the cream was covering his nudity. thankful at least that the cream was now covering his nudity. Especially when he saw Lacy and Stacy who stood at the very front of the crowd, seemingly delighted with their handiwork. Which wasn't all he saw.

From his unique vantage point below the assembled throng, Peter was the only one to see the look that passed between the crew before two of their number stepped forward and, to a wave of laughter, pushed Stacy and Lacy over the edge and into the pit as well. The fall into the pit only took a couple of seconds but Peter followed all of it, eagerly anticipating the moment they landed with a heavy splat.

And a splash that flung more cream over his head, prompting him to flinch away from the white wave. And again as the two girls burst from the surface, laughing joyously and wrapping him in a tight hug from both sides. Flustered and blushing as he was, that didn't stop him from returning the hug as best he could. Or noticing that somehow both ladies had lost their bikini tops between the landing and when they surfaced, creamy naked breasts pressing into his arms and sides. Which wouldn't be all they, or he, lost either before the day was done; the rest of the crew retreating back to the Lusty Rose to leave them to enjoy themselves in every possible way they could think so. Not that Peter noticed this, given how Lacy was now pressed tightly against his front with arms around his neck, her smooth slippery stomach rubbing against him with the promise of an orgasm that was to be the first of many to come.