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Pirate's Honor 

On a gloomy September afternoon in 1714, a cool breeze swept across the Caribbean Sea.


Beneath rolling dark clouds, a small sluice boat, its tiny triangular sail billowing, sailed into the heart-pounding depths of the waves.


Behind it, the massive Dawn's mast pointed skyward, its black skull and crossbones flag fluttering slowly in the wind. Further away, the Poseidon and the Marauder, due to their distance, appeared only half the size of the Dawn. The pirate flags on both ships were almost invisible.

The nearly 14-meter-long boat carried six men and two chests secured by ropes. Four ragged sailors, prisoners captured by the Dawn a few days earlier during its raid, rowed furiously in the middle of the boat. Now, they rowed nervously and silently, occasionally letting out a labored "huff."


Half an hour later, the top of the Dawn's mast was no longer visible. The small boat sailed alone on the dark sea.


The man sitting at the bow had a fierce appearance; a sailor's towel of indeterminate color was tied around his head, and his dirty Poulman jacket was open, revealing a thick layer of blond chest hair. A long knife was sheathed in his hand, held across his thick, stump-like thigh.


This young, strong, burly, and menacing-looking fellow was the first mate of Captain Paul Len, the "Dawn," the infamous Jerry Yarman, a ruthless killer. His cold, indifferent gaze frequently swept over the rowers, instilling fear in them, who dared not meet his eyes.


The tall, lean Captain Paul was at the stern, steering the boat and skillfully maneuvering the triangular sail to compensate for the insufficient power of the four oars, propelling the small boat forward. His long, black hair was simply and stylishly tied back with a ribbon. His tanned face was framed by narrow, narrow eyes that squinted as he calmly observed the wind direction. His arms, muscular and powerful, gripped the sails.


He was the infamous pirate captain "Black Pol," as famous as his 32-gunned "Dawn." Brave, fearless, and ruthless, he struck fear into the hearts of all merchant ships on the Caribbean coast.


The two chests on board contained the treasure he and Jerry had amassed over the past two months of plunder. Captain Pol was a fair leader; under his supervision, the spoils were divided among his 40 crew members according to a set ratio. He, as the leader, received four shares, Jerry three, the cook, doctor, helmsman, and boatswain received two, and the others one. Everyone willingly followed him, ready to charge into battle and risk their lives for the substantial rewards.


Often, sailors, having accumulated what they considered sufficient wealth, would choose to leave, purchasing land in the Bahamas or Jamaica, marrying a woman, and living a peaceful life in anonymity. However, some would return after leaving, partly for the thrills of sea life, but more importantly, for even more money.


Because of Captain Paul's excellent reputation in the trade, more people flocked to him than left. This led to a continuous increase in his manpower and a growing ambition.


As his wealth accumulated, he buried his gold coins and jewels. He and Jerry usually buried the treasure chest together. Jerry was incredibly brave in battle, with almost no enemy able to stand against him. However, his seamanship was abysmal; discussing currents and directions with him was like talking to a brick wall. Therefore, Jerry had to beg Paul to help bury and safeguard their money.


A year earlier, Jerry had been discharged from the navy for disobeying orders. When he arrived in Port Royal, destitute, Paul took him in. Because of his bravery in battle, he was quickly promoted to first mate. Paul treated him like a brother.


This Scottish fellow had a quarter Germanic blood flowing through his veins. His deep-set, iron-grey eyes gleamed with an unbridled wildness, and when he grinned, large, snow-white front teeth were revealed.


After sailing for over an hour, the horizon ahead remained a straight line. But Paul sensed they were nearing their destination. He calculated the time, carefully observed the currents, and frequently raised his arm to feel the wind direction, adjusting the sail angle accordingly.


After the oarsmen had rowed nearly 200 more strokes, sure enough, a dark spot appeared on the sea to the right, growing larger and gradually taking shape. It was a desolate island, seemingly only a few miles in circumference.


"It's getting dark. Push harder, you filthy rats! Anyone who slacks off, I'll break their back with this knife!" Jerry roared in a gruff voice, banging the hull of his knife against the side of the boat.


Paul, sweating profusely, was maneuvering the sail when he heard Jerry's imperious tone, as if he were being scolded along with Jerry. Paul sighed inwardly and shook his head with a self-deprecating laugh.


Often, he had no choice but to tolerate his arrogant and impolite good friend. He tightened the sail and adjusted the rudder. Propelled by the rowers' vigorous paddling and the wind, the small boat sped towards the island.


This island was one of hundreds of unnamed islets in the Lesser Antilles, located north of Venezuela. Paul had been here three years ago; it was one of his dozen or so treasure troves. He was intimately familiar with the area's hydrology and geography, and his exceptional memory assured him he wouldn't forget any place.


They anchored at a relatively gentle beach with fewer rocks. Paul dropped anchor, threw a long rope to Jerry, who was the first to disembark, and had him tie it to a protruding rock. He then tossed him a water bag filled with fresh water.


Paul inserted two small shovels and two small pickaxes into the ropes binding the crates, then, in a deep, authoritative voice, ordered the four men to work in pairs, using prepared wooden poles to lift the two heavy crates and walk towards the shore.


He checked his belongings, tightened his belt and collar, and carefully sheathed his sailor's knife on his left side. He drew his slender longsword from its scabbard under the hold, gripped it in his right hand, and with a light leap, jumped onto the beach.


Dusk was approaching, the last rays of the western sky casting their final glow. The mountain path was rugged and overgrown with shrubs. The air was filled with the salty smell of the sea breeze mingled with the fragrance of plants. The group climbed over countless ridges, Paul leading the way, counting steps and determining their location.


After rounding a recessed valley, they came to a hillside covered with dozens of pine trees. These pines stood out sharply in the wilderness, though difficult to distinguish from a distance.


Paul found a rock about half his height, climbed up, and touched its top to confirm the location. Satisfied, he nodded, then walked about 20 paces to the left, looked at the distant pine trees, estimated the distance, and ordered four men to carry the box over. The four


obediently put the box down, already panting heavily. Jerry grinned self-deprecatingly and said, "Damn it, I bet I still won't find this place next time." He shook his head, raised his scabbard, and pointed it at the four exhausted men. "Don't slack off for too long, get to work. I don't want to spend the night in this godforsaken place."


The four men hurriedly got up, picked up shovels and pickaxes, and began digging holes as Paul instructed.


The soil here wasn't too hard, and they quickly dug two sizable square pits. Jerry looked at their work, thought for a moment, and then cursed, "You bunch of lazy bums who cut corners! Couldn't you have dug the pit bigger and deeper? If a hurricane or a downpour comes at sea, won't the box be exposed?" He angrily brandished his scabbard and began whipping the men indiscriminately until they begged for mercy, only then did he order them


to continue digging. The pit grew deeper and larger. But without a stop order, none of the four dared to stop, so they continued digging. Paul shook his head, sighed, and said, "That's enough. No need to dig anymore." The four looked up at Jerry, who merely snorted without objection.


The four men stopped and scrambled out of the pit. To their surprise, they were met with Jerry's gleaming blade!
Chapter Two: The Old Man and His Daughter.


Jerry wiped the blood from his knife onto the dead man's clothes and kicked the body back into the pit.


Paul shook his head and said, "Actually, we didn't need to kill them. It's such a pity. We've lost several people who could work for us without getting paid."


Jerry glanced at him and said disdainfully, "Paul, you're too merciful. I know you didn't want to kill them. Once we got back to the big ship, you would have fed and clothed them well, hoping they would be grateful. If they didn't want to stay, you would have given them travel expenses to go home. But all of that costs money. Now that they're dead, that money is saved. I've saved you at least 20 rials!"


Paul smiled slightly, looking at Jerry meaningfully, clearly not believing him.


Jerry, growing impatient, said, "Alright, alright, to be honest, I don't trust them. If it were me, I would have come back desperately for these chests; they couldn't earn this much money in two lifetimes. I knew they would come looking for these chests. Perhaps some of them are clever enough to remember the way, so they had to die!"


Paul shrugged, "Now that they're all dead, you can relax."


Jerry grinned, revealing his large, gleaming white teeth, and said with satisfaction, "That's right, that's how it should be."


Paul sighed, "You'll be going to hell someday."


Jerry burst into laughter, "Paul, don't worry, we pirates will all go to hell sooner or later! But let's finish this job first."


Together, they placed the two chests into another pit. Then they used shovels to fill and level both pits. They tamped the soil down and scattered the remaining soil in the pine forest. After checking it over, Paul nodded in satisfaction.


They found a relatively clean patch of grass to sit down and rest. Jerry untied his water pouch, tilted his head back, and drank deeply before handing it to Paul. Paul took it, drank a few sips, and returned it to Jerry. He pulled out some tobacco from his pocket, lit it in his pipe, took a satisfied drag, and exhaled the smoke. Jerry took it and took a few drags as well, muttering with satisfaction, "I don't like tobacco. An ounce of tobacco is worth the same as an ounce of silver—it's not worth it. I prefer women to tobacco." Paul smiled and said, "When you're older, you'll understand that tobacco and women are equally important to men."


They were like two brothers, even closer. They kept their money together, sharing rum, tobacco, and sometimes women—except for Polly. Jerry kept a close eye on Polly, not allowing any man to approach her.


After they had recovered their strength, night fell. They got up, looked for the way they had come, and started walking back. After walking for a while, Paul, who was leading the way, seemed a little confused. After looking around for a moment, he chose a slope. Jerry seemed to think something was wrong and turned to Paul, saying, "Although I can't remember the way, this path doesn't look like the one we just took."


Paul's tone sounded somewhat indifferent. "Yes, this path wasn't here when I came last time, so we need to go and see."


They crossed a ridge, passed through a dense forest, and spotted a faint light in the distance.


As they approached, a simple, rough, but sturdy wooden cabin emerged in the night.


As they quietly approached the window, they heard people talking inside.


They tiptoed to the window and peered inside. The fireplace glowed red, and an elderly man with gray hair and a robust build sat in a chair, talking to a girl kneeling before him. The girl was clearly the old man's daughter. Fishing nets and bows


and arrows hung on the walls, along with several birds. The smell of dried fish wafted from the front yard.


Clearly, this was a fishing and hunting family, with only a father and daughter present.


The old man said, "The pirates have become increasingly rampant in recent years; this world is truly outrageous. If it were ten years ago, I would have gone out to sea with the customs service to capture them one by one and hang them in the harbor of San Juan."


The girl looked at her father with admiration and smiled, saying, "Didn't you serve His Majesty Charles II back then? How many pirates did you capture?"


The old man smiled slightly, stroking his daughter's head, and said, "Those desperados may look fierce, but most of them are cowards. I only killed two and received a reward from the governor. Many of those captured were later sentenced to hanging."


The girl excitedly shook her father's arm and said, "I want to go catch pirates too! Will you take me? Will the governor give me a reward?"


The old man smiled and shook his head, "I'm too old, Governor..."


The door of the wooden house was kicked open with a "bang," interrupting the old man's words. Jerry, his eyes blazing with fury, stormed into the house. Without a word, his longsword shot straight at the old man.


The old man tried to rise, but it was too late. With a scream from the girl, Jerry's sword swiftly plunged into the old man's chest, piercing his body, the tip emerging from his back, pinning him to the heavy back of the wooden chair.


Paul walked coldly to the fireplace, poking at the burning wood with a pitchfork, making the flames burn brighter.




He showed no mercy to his enemies, especially an old man who had killed his comrades.




As for this girl who treated pirate lives like a game, though she seemed naive and innocent, since she expressed the same hostility and hoped to collect bounties with pirate lives, what was there to pity?




He looked at the pretty girl; he could imagine the chaotic night that was about to unfold.




Jerry grinned wickedly and approached the bewildered girl. He grabbed her arm and dragged her to a fur rug in front of the fireplace. Paul walked over, sat down beside the girl, and scrutinized her closely before lifting her up in his arms. The girl, still reeling from her shock, offered little resistance.




Jerry knelt down and, with practiced ease, grabbed one of her ankles, tearing off her sock. He held her soft, smooth foot in one hand, while the other hand slid up her leg, lifting her petticoat.




It seemed they had done this wicked thing together more than once.




The girl began to struggle instinctively, but Paul held her tightly from behind, trying to control her resisting arms. He felt the girl trembling in his arms; she cried out sadly, "Father..."




but received no response.




The girl appeared to be about eighteen or nineteen years old, her body already full and supple. Long years of hunting and fishing had sculpted her body, and Paul could sense from her involuntary twisting and struggling that her form was both supple and strong. Her long, beautiful neck swayed in front of Paul's face, her brown hair brushing against his cheeks and nose. The girl's unique fragrance filled Paul's nostrils, making his heart flutter.




Looking down at the girl's shoulder, Paul saw Jerry's thick lips and hot tongue shamelessly sucking and licking the girl's delicate insteps. The girl's two smooth thighs were completely exposed, and she subconsciously squeezed her thighs together, while Jerry's large, bony hands were forcefully inserted into the inside of her two plump thighs, kneading and grabbing them without restraint.




Paul felt that compared to Jerry, he seemed to have been too polite to this girl. So, he grabbed the girl's clothes on her shoulder and ripped them hard. With a "rip," one of the girl's smooth, plump arms was revealed.




The girl cried out in agony, filled with fear and confusion. Instinctively, she sensed the humiliation that awaited her, a vague feeling that it would be a profound disgrace. But having no experience with matters of the flesh, she was completely unprepared and had no idea what was to come. She could only await the brutal assault of the two powerful men in her utter terror. The




dying old man, with only his last breath, struggled to lift his head. Through his blurred vision, illuminated by the roaring firelight, he saw the poor girl being brutally stripped of her last garment by the two rough, savage robbers. Her naked, pale body writhed in the arms of the two dark, strong men, being wantonly violated.




A flicker of despair crossed the old man's eyes, and then, the flame of his life was extinguished. He lowered his head and died.




The night was deep. The intense intercourse continued for an unknown time, the primal, wild desires finally subsiding after their frenzied release. The two demonic men and the girl in their arms, who had completely given up resistance and passively endured the assault, relaxed completely. The cabin was filled with a lewd atmosphere, a mixture of masculine sweat and feminine scent.




The girl's moans and cries gradually faded until they were completely silent.




Jerry stood up, his naked body's strong muscles churning silently, glistening with sweat in the firelight. His thick penis, no longer erect, dangled between his legs, swaying with his steps.




Jerry's penis wasn't long, probably only about six inches. But it was exceptionally thick, with a pointed glans that widened towards the base. As Jerry entered the girl from behind, Paul saw the look of shock and disbelief on the girl's face as this enormous penis penetrated her. Her pained expression, biting her lip, was pitiful. As it withdrew from her vagina, its bulging veins coated with her vaginal fluids, it had violently thrust in and out of the girl's thin, narrow labia.




That despicable Jerry, showing such utter cruelty to a defenseless girl.




The girl lay prone beside the fire, the firelight illuminating the beautiful curves of her naked body. Her smooth skin was damp, glowing with a youthful, healthy sheen. She was covered in a mixture of sweat and saliva, whether from a man or herself, a mixture of semen and vaginal secretions, gushing from her genitals and flowing between her legs.




Paul picked up his coat and draped it over the girl.




After experiencing the union of two men, the pain of losing her virginity gradually numbed and disappeared. Her sensitive body was subjected to the sustained, rough caresses and the friction and thrusting of the strong men's genitals. Gradually, her female hormones surged uncontrollably, and instinctive pleasure overwhelmed her nerves and brain.




With Jerry's final, wild thrusts, the girl even raised her head, her full buttocks involuntarily arching back to meet his thrusts, and then she experienced her first orgasm. After extreme shock and devastation, she experienced her first intense pleasure. Under this double shock and mental impact, the girl lost consciousness in a dizzying moment and fell into a coma.




Jerry walked to the dead old man, forcefully pulled out his long knife, then carried the old man's body out of the room.




Soon, he returned to the yard, and it's unclear where he disposed of the body, probably in some nearby ditch. Then he seemed to find a water trough in the yard, and the sound of rushing water could be heard. Jerry washed himself while letting out a happy, strange cry.




Paul found an old piece of clothing, wiped the bloodstains on the ground, and then threw it away.




Feeling hungry, he went naked to the cupboard and found a piece of cured meat, half a cooked wild bird, and several thick slices of bread. He even found a bottle of wine.




At this moment, the girl stirred and woke up.




She slowly sat up, wrapped her upper body tightly with Paul's coat, and instinctively squeezed her legs together.




She felt the stickiness between her legs, realized what had just happened, and blushed deeply.




A burning pain shot through her breasts. She lowered her head and peeked through a small opening in her clothing at her full, soft breasts. There was a dark red hickey and teeth mark. She knew there were many similar marks on her body.




She remembered the young pirate's face being so close, his hateful smile, and his large, white teeth. He had gently bitten her nipple with his large, white front teeth, making her gasp, then he had opened his mouth wide and taken half of her breast into his mouth.




She gasped, jerking her head back. Then she saw the dark-haired man's face. His narrow eyes were squinting, filled with ill intent. He lowered his face and suddenly captured her lips in his mouth.




She lost all will to resist, letting him suckle her lips, as if all her strength had vanished.




Chapter Four: The Wild Conquest.




Paul brought over the food, and at that moment, Jerry, dripping wet, walked in. He found a cloth to wipe his body, sniffing, and said, "Wine? That's great!"




Jerry cut the food and ate heartily without any hesitation.




When Paul handed the food to the girl, she wanted to refuse, but she hadn't eaten dinner either. After the intense struggle and her first sexual experience, she was also starving.




She was too young to withstand the hardships of life, and when hungry, she couldn't resist the temptation of food. So she ate little by little.




The two men, naked and shameless, drank and ate.




Paul's long penis draped diagonally across his muscular thighs. The girl glanced at it and blushed. She knew how powerful it was.




When Paul's penis was erect, it was much longer than Jerry's.




Paul looked at the girl's lowered eyes, her shy expression completely different from her earlier frenzied state. He hadn't expected her vagina to still be so tight; he felt as if his penis was being gripped tightly. The girl's delicate vaginal walls twitched sensitively, contracting tightly. Like a young girl meeting for the first time, she was both resisting and welcoming.




After eating, the girl clearly regained some strength and energy, and her complexion became rosy.




After the two rude men finished their meal, they began to look at her with ill intent, making her feel both afraid and ashamed.




She began to think, to realize, and then looked at the empty chair.




She suddenly realized why she had been violated.




Because her father was gone, and no one was protecting her.




Her father was dead, killed by these two pirates!




Overwhelmed with grief, two lines of tears slowly flowed down her cheeks.




Jerry became impatient and said, "Stop crying, it's annoying. Come here, I'll make you laugh, I'll make you scream!"




Saying this, Jerry went over to pull the girl up. However, he froze.




He saw the flames of hatred burning in the girl's eyes, her arm already raised, and with a crisp sound, a slap landed loudly on Jerry's left cheek. Jerry was stunned. He tried to grab her, but she possessed an astonishing strength from nowhere. She kicked and punched, scratched with her nails, and bit with her teeth. Like a crazed little female beast, she unleashed a terrifying attack.




Jerry and Paul exchanged a glance, seeing the astonishment in each other's eyes.




Jerry helplessly spread his hands to Paul, saying, "What do we do? Looks like we'll have to resort to our last resort."




Paul shook his head reluctantly, saying, "This girl is too young. Don't hurt her."




Jerry said, "You saw it too. I don't want to do this either, but there's no other way. Don't worry, I'll know what I'm doing."




Paul sighed and nodded.




Paul went behind the girl and quickly grabbed both of her arms.




Jerry clenched his massive fist and gently pounded it into the girl's lower abdomen.




The girl immediately curled up, collapsing onto the carpet, clutching her stomach and convulsing in pain.




Once she caught her breath, Paul pulled her up, facing Jerry.




Jerry punched her again in the stomach.




The girl gagged a few times, then collapsed limply, gasping for air.




Paul pulled her up again, facing Jerry…




The girl couldn't take it anymore and began to plead and beg for mercy in a low voice.




She even tried to hug Jerry, begging him to stop.




But Jerry coldly brushed her arms away.




She looked at Paul with pitiful, pleading eyes.




Paul still coldly held her tightly, twisting her body in front of Jerry.




Jerry slowly and deliberately pounded his iron fist into the girl's soft abdomen.




He had a perfect balance; he wouldn't hurt her, but he inflicted great pain and fear.




After a dozen or so blows, the girl finally collapsed completely, utterly limp.




Tears streamed down her face, and she lost control of her bladder, urine flowing down her thighs.




Paul picked her up, smoothing her thick, disheveled hair to reveal her jade-like face.




Jerry leaned in and kissed her cheek hard, saying, "Little girl, you'd better behave this time, let your brother fuck you to his heart's content!"




At midnight, in the only wooden hut on this remote island, revelry and violation resumed.




When Jerry ejaculated inside the girl for the third time, her pain had subsided, and her strength began to return. But her spirit had completely surrendered. She was utterly subjugated to the man's lewd power.




After each ejaculation, Jerry would rest for a while, so Paul would hold her in his arms and have intercourse with her. The girl would even offer her lips to Paul for a kiss, almost seductively.




Sometimes, the three of them would be entangled together, Paul and Jerry caressing her from both sides simultaneously. They would stroke her thighs, embrace her waist, and bring their faces close to her chest. So she had no choice but to endure the shame and humiliation, offering one breast to Jerry, letting him suckle and play with it. Then she offered the other to Paul's mouth... Her subservience and coquettishness further aroused the men's desires. Despite her groveling and shameless flattery, they still roughly twisted her body into various humiliating positions, carrying her to different places in the room, trying to rape her in every imaginable position.




She leaned against the window, the man thrusting deeply into her from behind, she uttered soft moans, and when she finally climaxed, her scream echoed for a long time in the valley.




Chapter Five: The Licentious Beauty.




In the early morning, as the sun rose, the blinding sunlight streaming in through the window and the sound of the rising tide woke Paul. His head felt heavy, and he slowly got up, seeing Jerry sleeping soundly on his back, but the girl was nowhere to be seen.




Paul jumped up, yelling as he pulled on his clothes, "Wake up, Jerry!"




Jerry, startled awake, looked around blankly.




"The girl ran away!"




"Damn it!"




Jerry cursed, jumping up and hurriedly slipping on a pair of shorts before rushing out the door.




Paul grabbed his longsword and followed.




The sun was already shining on the earth and sea, and a winding mountain path led to the cabin. The cabin wasn't far from the sea; a flat beach and sparse, tall coconut trees could be seen in the distance.




They chased for a short distance before spotting a small figure running on the beach.




They reached the sand and slowed their pace.




The girl realized they were following, so she ran into the shallow water, waving her arms and screaming for help.




On the calm sea, several seagulls flew leisurely.




There wasn't even a boat in sight.




The girl cried out desperately, her voice trembling with sobs.




When she realized no boat could find her, she tried to continue her escape.




Paul and Jerry split up, surrounding the girl from both sides.




The girl had no choice but to retreat into the water.




The water grew deeper and deeper, submerging her knees and thighs.




She tried to quickly break free between them, but Jerry was much faster, grabbing her waist and pushing her into the water.




The girl had only managed to put on a short slip when she ran away; now, soaked to the bone, the beautiful curves of her body were fully exposed.




Jerry laughed gleefully, shouting, pulling the desperate girl out of the water, tearing open her collar, and stripping her naked in the water, like a fish just emerging from the water.




When he had his fill of teasing, he dragged the girl ashore, making her face a tall coconut tree, gripping the trunk with both hands. Jerry pulled down his shorts; his penis was erect again, and he penetrated her from behind.




Jerry held the girl tightly from behind, his large hands reaching around to the front to cup and knead her breasts, his lower body thrusting powerfully against her slightly upturned buttocks.




Paul walked to their side and lifted the girl's chin with his hand.




Tears streamed down the girl's face, forced upward, her empty, lifeless eyes staring blankly into the air.




Paul turned, came behind them, and swiftly drew his longsword, plunging it into Jerry's back with lightning speed.




The sword tip pierced the left chest of the tightly embracing man and woman, simultaneously piercing their hearts.




Paul's sword was so accurate and powerful; the tip emerged from their bodies and embedded itself in the trunk of a coconut tree.




Surprised and bewildered, the two didn't have time to process what had happened before their hearts stopped beating.




Paul pulled out his sword, staring silently at the two naked corpses slowly falling.




He left, finding the small boat he had come from. He rowed back to the beach, placed the two inside, and set sail back.




Gradually, the island disappeared behind the horizon. After sailing about two or three miles further, Paul dragged Jerry and the girl's bodies to the side of the boat and pushed them into the water. Waves surged, and the two bodies slowly sank. He silently watched the gradually calming water; it was still, as if nothing had happened.




He assessed the wind and current, adjusted the angle of the triangular sail, and sailed away.




On the Dawn, Polly was idly strolling on the deck when a small white sail appeared in the distance, growing closer.




A sailor spotted Paul's small boat and called for help.




When Paul approached, a dozen sailors rushed over, hurriedly pushing over the davit and lowering the winch pulley.




Paul hooked the hook onto the fore and aft iron rings of the small boat and climbed onto his sailing vessel via the lowered rope ladder.




Then he saw Polly.




Polly frowned and asked, "Where's Jerry? Where did he go?"




Paul shook his head, looked at Polly, and said, "You're right, Jerry is dead. We ran into a Spanish anti-smuggling fleet and fought them to the death."




Polly also noticed the bloodstains on Paul's shirt. Her eyes widened, and she couldn't say a word. After a while, she began to cry silently.




Paul went over and put his arm around her head. Polly rested her head on Paul's shoulder, tears wetting it.




In the days that followed, Polly was quiet and withdrawn. She was only in her early twenties, and although Jerry and she weren't engaged, they had been together for over six months, making it difficult for her to accept the relationship.




Whenever Paul had free time, he stayed by her side. Polly was reluctant to speak, lost in thought. Sometimes Paul would simply sit silently beside her, ensuring the girl didn't feel alone in her grief.




After about ten days, Polly began to speak again. When she looked at Paul, he felt a pang of pity for her helplessness.




Polly had a baby face, always carrying a childlike quality. Years of pirate life had added a touch of wildness and untamed spirit to her lovely, delicate features.




Her figure was fully developed; even in loose sailor clothes, her full breasts and pert buttocks were undeniable.




Paul told her stories and anecdotes, trying to cheer her up. Slowly, Polly began to smile.




Paul sensed that Polly's gaze was growing increasingly strange, and sometimes she would shyly avoid his gaze.




One day, Paul gave Polly a pair of glittering golden earrings. They were exquisitely crafted by Venice's most famous jeweler, adorned with emerald green gemstone pendants.




Polly happily accepted the gift, overjoyed.




Paul helped her put on the earrings, her face radiant, the beautiful pendants swaying with her head movements.




She saw herself reflected in Paul's eyes, and she sensed his genuine care and affection for her. She turned away shyly, her back to Paul. Paul gently embraced her from behind.




Polly tilted her head back, looking at Paul, her lips slightly parted in a daze. Paul lowered his head and carefully kissed Polly.




That night, in the stern, in Paul's spacious captain's cabin, Paul gently unbuttoned Polly's clothes, her full breasts trembling before his eyes. Polly blushed and turned her face away shyly.




Paul gently removed Polly's clothes until she was naked before him like a newborn baby.




Paul's gaze grew increasingly intense, and he reached out his strong arms to pull Polly into his embrace.




Since Jerry left, Polly's body had not been in contact with a man. Before that, while Jerry was on the ship, he had sex with Polly almost every day.




The sudden loss of a man's caresses made Polly very sad, and the desire within her burned like a raging fire.




She happily allowed Paul to play with her as he pleased, kissing Paul's chest with her soft lips and licking his groin with her nimble tongue. Her wet tongue traced over Paul's scrotum, penis, and glans. The sensitive touch made Paul unbearably itchy, and his whole body swelled with stimulation.




She slowly lay back on Paul's large bed, and Paul wrapped his arms around her legs, spreading her thighs apart and pushing them upwards. Polly gently cupped Paul's magnificent penis in her hands, exclaiming in surprise, "My God, how could this be? How can anyone bear this?"




Paul entered her gently. Polly bit her lip, looking at Paul with some fear, her hands lightly supporting his chest, as if afraid his large member would pierce her. Slowly, her vagina accepted him, gently enveloping him, the tender flesh of her vaginal walls tightly clinging to him. She moaned softly, her eyes narrowing in pleasure.




Paul quickened his pace and increased his force. Polly frowned, seemingly in pain yet also delighted, involuntarily swaying her head from side to side, her thick, full blonde hair cascading like a waterfall onto the snow-white sheets.




Polly completely relaxed her body, spreading her arms wide, opening her embrace, letting Paul do as he pleased.




With each thrust and pull of Paul's penis, Polly's cries grew louder and more unrestrained. Her lips parted slightly, a glistening drop of saliva trickling down her cheek.




Polly lay face down on the bed, her snow-white buttocks sticking out behind her. She turned her head to look at Paul, pouting her cute little mouth like a mischievous, spoiled child. However, her plump, soft buttocks were so large, perky, mature, and round, almost exaggeratedly so compared to her slender, supple waist.




Paul saw that between her two swaying, snow-white buttocks, her soft labia minora were moist and glistening. His large hand embraced her full, bouncy hips, pressing his throbbing penis against the crevice between her labia, and thrusting in.




Polly let out a soft moan, enduring Paul's powerful thrusts while struggling to prop herself up, turning around and placing a soft arm around Paul's neck.




Paul embraced Polly's upper body from behind, cupping her heavy breasts in his hands, feeling their fullness filling his palms. Polly turned her head, and a slightly childlike face was facing Paul. Her large, innocent, slightly blue eyes seemed to be telling a story, to be blaming him.




Her slightly bitten lips, her resentful eyes, and her long, fluttering eyelashes seemed to reproach Paul for not being tender enough. Her childlike innocence was a stark contrast to the intense desire expressed by her thrusting hips and twitching vagina. This extreme contrast brought an indescribable shock and stimulation, making Paul's blood boil. He felt both deep affection for the beautiful woman in his arms and an irresistible urge to ravage her.




The two were deeply immersed in this abyss of lust, indulging in it. They made love passionately all night long, unable to stop.




A few days later, the Dawn approached Port Royal and anchored about a mile from the harbor.




Paul and Polly stood together on the foreboard, watching the sails come and go around them. They gazed upon the city, known as "Paradise of Sin," its streets, houses, and pedestrians now clearly visible.




These days, Paul spent his days on deck directing the voyage. Only when the seas were calm and the course was clear could he return to his bedroom to meet Polly.




Polly meticulously groomed herself each day, then eagerly awaited Paul's return.




As soon as Paul entered the cabin, Polly would greet him. Paul found it strange; each time he left, Polly seemed utterly exhausted, as if she didn't even have the strength to lift herself to greet him.




But when he returned, he was astonished to find a fresh, vibrant, youthful girl, her face flushed with shyness, waiting to greet him. Her carefully chosen clothes awaited his undressing. Her meticulously groomed face awaited his kisses and caresses. Her body was eager, awaiting his possession and intrusion.




Night after night, even in broad daylight, Polly demanded without restraint. The young girl's passion for lust knew no bounds; she was insatiable and her cravings boundless. Her unbridled, shameless cries carried far, audible to every sailor on the ship.




Finally, they arrived at Port Royal, the capital of Jamaica, the most bustling and sinful city in the entire Caribbean, the gathering place of all pirates.




At this moment, a light sailing ship emerged from the harbor, heading straight for the Dawn.




Chapter Six: Hijacking a Merchant Ship




. A seemingly honest messenger boarded the ship. After confirming that the man before him was Captain Paul, the messenger handed him a letter sealed with wax.




Paul opened the letter, quickly read it, and a smile appeared on his face.




Polly looked at him and asked, "Is it good news?"




"Yes. Our good luck has arrived!"




A new prey was about to appear!




Paul ordered his sailors to signal with flags for the captains of the Poseidon and the Marauder to meet aboard the Dawn.




Paul then explained the plan for the operation to two of his most trusted lieutenants.




At dusk, three pirate ships silently weighed anchor, hoisted their sails, and headed north.




Three days later, they passed Cape Catoche and anchored southeast of the Yucatan Strait. Paul ordered all three ships to lower their skull and crossbones flags and hoist the French flag, then waited quietly.




The following day was calm and uneventful. Paul and his sailors spent a restless, sleepless night. The next morning, the sea remained empty, and the midday sun was unsettling.




After 3 p.m., their target finally appeared. A French-flagged armed merchant ship, weighing over 200 tons, was a formidable force.




Paul ordered the three ships to spread out in a fan shape, waiting for their prey to enter the net.




The French merchant ship, seeing them from afar and presumably noticing their French flag, was completely unprepared.




When they were less than five chains apart, Paul ordered all three ships to simultaneously raise their black pirate skull and crossbones flags.




Then he ordered, "Fire!"




The eight 16-pound cannons below the second deck spewed fire, shells landing far ahead of the French merchant ship's course. The "Poseidon" and the "Raider" also fired from a distance, their shells landing even further into the water.




This was a special warning tactic of the pirates. Because the merchant ship carried valuable cargo, and Paul's principle was to prioritize profit over human life.




Chaos reigned on the opposing merchant ship; panicked passengers and sailors could be seen fleeing on deck.




By the time the "Poseidon" and the "Raider" had also approached, the three pirate ships had completely surrounded the merchant ship.




There was no resistance, and escape was impossible.




The merchant ship raised a white flag; clearly, its captain had lost the will to resist.




Paul ordered them to board and seize the ship.




Once the two ships were alongside, the pirates, brandishing their weapons and shouting, leaped onto the other ship's deck.




Polly was at the forefront. Paul handed over command of the Dawn to the boatswain and then jumped onto the opposite ship.




The decks on the opposite side had all been cleared; people huddled together in the cabins below deck. The sailors had laid down their weapons, some passengers were crying, and many more huddled in fear.




Paul ordered his men to take the approximately 30 captured sailors and the dejected captain to the sailors' cabin at the bow, lock them together, and shut the doors. He cleared out a smaller cargo hold in the middle of the ship and locked nearly 20 male passengers there. A dozen or so female passengers were taken to the more spacious stern dining room and temporarily detained.




Then, he ordered the pirates down to the second deck and search each cabin.




Soon, several more passengers were dragged out, crying and sobbing.




Then, Paul heard a gunshot. When he rushed over, he found a middle-aged man who looked like a merchant, who had been hiding, had been discovered and had fired a pistol in self-defense, wounding one pirate. He was then killed by the pirates behind him.




Paul ordered his men to carry the wounded pirates back to the Dawn for medical treatment.




Just then, shouts and sounds of fighting erupted from the innermost cabin door.




Paul rushed over to see what was happening.




A pirate sailor, having been searched by the murdered merchant, had only found a few pennies and a fine piece of paper. This illiterate pirate would never know what the large, bright red seal was, nor could he recognize the signature: Governor Hamilton.




Finding no more money, he angrily tore the paper in two and threw it into the sea.




Paul reached the far end of the deck and saw several of his men attacking a young man.




The young man was impeccably dressed, resembling a noble officer, and wielded his longsword with practiced skill, preventing the sailors from getting close.




He guarded the last cabin door, preventing the pirates from approaching, seemingly protecting someone or something inside.




Paul drew his sword and ordered his men to get out of the way.




He walked over and said gently, "Young man, I admire your courage, but you see, it's obvious your resistance is futile."




The young man understood that Paul's words were true, but he clearly didn't want to give up, saying, "If you're a gentleman, then come and duel with me. If I win, you'll let Baroness Rebecca leave."




Paul understood why the young man was fighting so desperately; he completely sympathized.




Paul smiled and said, "And if I win?"




The young man's eyes turned red, and he shouted, "I won't lose! I won't let you near the Baroness!"




Paul snorted, said nothing more, brandished his sword, and charged forward.




The young man's swordsmanship was indeed excellent, well-trained, concise, and powerful.




But Paul's sword was faster, more accurate, and more ruthless.




In just a few rounds, Paul seized an opening where his opponent's sword had slowed, stabbing his wrist and then knocking his sword away. In the moment of his opponent's surprise, Paul swiftly cut to his side, raising his knee and slamming it into his groin.




The young man fell to the ground in pain, grabbed by Paul's men, and taken away.




Paul walked to the cabin door and found it to be the most luxurious cabin on the entire ship. He pushed open the door and saw a young woman dressed as a noblewoman standing in the center of the room, holding a dagger. Beside her, a petite maid cowered.




Seeing Paul enter, the noblewoman gritted her teeth and cried out, "Don't come any closer!" Then she turned the dagger upside down, pointing it at her chest.




The maid screamed in terror, almost collapsing to the ground, clinging tightly to the noblewoman's leg.




Paul sheathed his sword, spread his hands, bowed, and said, "Are you Baroness Rebecca from Burgundy, France? Your virtue and beauty are widely known in the Caribbean. I am Captain Paul of the Dawn, and I have long admired your name!"




"You are Black Paul, that heinous bandit?"




Paul sighed. "Madam, I am very sorry to hear you say that."




The lady gripped the dagger even tighter and took a step back.




Paul advised, "Your efforts are futile. Though I am a pirate, I have a kind heart and will not let you harm yourself."




With that, he struck with lightning speed, and to the lady's astonishment, the dagger was in Paul's hand.




Paul smiled and said, "You can try again." He then reversed the hilt and returned the dagger to the lady, instructing, "Please hold on tight this time!"




The lady took it, bewildered. Then, Paul struck again, and the dagger was in his hand once more.




This time, he did not return it to the lady.




The lady finally understood that this bandit was shamelessly mocking her. Her fair face flushed red with anger, and she glared at him.




Paul, however, remained calm. He called his men in and had the maidservant pulled out. Then he ordered the cabin door closed, locking the lady inside alone, and had guards stand watch outside, forbidding her from leaving.




Afterward, Paul went to the deck to inventory the spoils and goods.




The passengers had not carried much money or valuables.




However, there were over a dozen chests on board, filled with gold pounds, Dutch guilders, and Spanish gold coins, as well as a large quantity of silver coins.




Besides these coins, there were barrels of sugar and molasses, and bundles of tobacco. The contents were quite valuable, filling the bottom of the hold.




The ship, having departed from Amsterdam with ironware, glassware, and firearms, traded for a large number of slaves off the West African coast. After selling them in South America, it made a fortune. On its return voyage, it purchased these goods on plantations in the West Indies, intending to bring them back to Europe for even greater profits.




Paul entered the occupied captain's cabin and called Polly in.




Paul said to Polly, "We've seized this opportunity, but to convert the goods into money, we need something else."




"What do you need?" Polly asked curiously.




“Well, our spoils this time, besides the money, include honey and tobacco, which can’t be sold in Port Royal. We’ll have to go to Massachusetts in North America or back to London to sell them.”




“Then let’s go sell them there.”




“But we don’t have a permit. We need a license. And only Governor Hamilton of Harbour Isle will sell us that.”




“What can we do? We don’t know the governor.”




Paul smiled at Polly and said, “He’ll be willing, as long as his captain of the priests vouches for you. Of course, the price has to be right.”




“Oh…” Polly nodded, seemingly understanding, but the question remained in her eyes.




“Governor Hamilton’s head of the customs service is Lawson, a friend of mine. He’ll definitely help us. But we need someone to do it.”




Paul looked at Polly earnestly and said, “Polly, would you be willing to go to Harbour Isle?”




Polly thought for a moment and said, “I’ll do anything you need.”




“For all of us!” Paul patted Polly’s lovely cheek and kissed her forehead.




Paul produced a purse: "Here are 120 guineas. 80 for the permit, 20 for Captain Lawson as a reward, and the remaining 20 are for you.




" "I don't want that much..." Before Polly could finish, Paul put a finger to her lips.




"Be careful, my little Polly. I'll be waiting for your safe return."




Polly lowered her head and put the purse away.




Polly thought for a moment, tilted her head, and looked at Paul with amusement, saying, "That baroness is very young and beautiful."




"Yes, a noble lady," Paul acknowledged.




“You’re not up to any bad ideas, are you?”




Paul shook his head and said, “You know, our dirty hands are not worthy of touching a noble lady.”




Polly snorted and sighed, “No one would believe that.”




She shook her head and said, “I understand, you sent me away just so I wouldn’t see your lewd and shameless behavior.”




Her eyes gazed wistfully at the sea outside, “Although I have no liking for nobles, I still feel sorry for that lady… what she is about to face.”




Paul was somewhat surprised.




She reached out and wrapped her arms around Paul's neck, saying bluntly, "I know you won't let her go. You'll definitely make love to her tonight. You're a man, a bastard. I'm just a little jealous."




Tears streamed down Polly's face. She said angrily, "She's so beautiful, pure, and noble, like a fine piece of porcelain. How can you bad men bear to defile her?"




Paul innocently protested, "I haven't done anything yet. I deny your accusations and won't take responsibility for a crime that didn't happen."




Polly looked into Paul's eyes and said, "But you will, won't you? Can you tell me you won't violate her?"




Paul was speechless. He too was captivated by the Countess's noble bearing and innocent demeanor, and he tried his best to stop imagining that beautiful figure. But the beast stirring within him had already revealed a sinister smile, and he felt unable to make such a promise to Polly.




“Alright, I’m leaving. I hope you won’t be too rough with her; show her




some mercy. After all, pampered women are different from us pirates.” Paul looked at the kind-hearted Polly, feeling a pang of shame. He tried to kiss her, but she refused. Polly turned and left. Chapter Seven: Blasphemy and Salvation After Polly left, Paul directed everyone to move the treasure and cargo to the Dawn and the other two pirate ships. Everyone was busy, all smiles. In the evening, the merchant ship’s cooks were released to prepare dinner. Polly and his men opened the ship’s barrels, rum poured out, and everyone celebrated and revelled. When everyone was drunk and staggering, Paul quietly left and went to the deck below the stern. The guards at the gate were also eating and drinking, but they remained at their posts as designated by Paul. Paul nodded in satisfaction and told them to bring another serving of food. Then, he pushed open the door. The lady sitting on the edge of the bed was startled. She abruptly stood up, her face pale, and swayed for a moment before regaining her composure and bravely meeting Paul's gaze. Paul surveyed the spacious room, noticing its exquisite furnishings. Besides a beautiful large bed, there was a dining table and chairs, a large chair against the wall, an elegant dressing table, a small wardrobe, and a small leather suitcase beside the bed. Paul took a few steps forward. The lady frowned, looking at him coldly, her nervousness evident. Paul's eyes seemed to spit fire. The lady turned her head away, avoiding his gaze, her body trembling slightly. Paul swallowed, paused, turned, and walked to the chair, then sat down comfortably. Paul spoke: "Aren't you at all worried about the young man who risked his life for you?" The lady quickly turned her head and asked, "How is he? You didn't kill him, did you?" Paul smiled and said, "He only suffered a minor injury to his hand." The lady seemed relieved. “Could you tell me who this brave gentleman is?” Paul asked politely. “A distant relative of mine.” “A soldier?” “A cavalry captain under Marshal Talad.” “A nobleman?” “Sir Narbo.” Paul suddenly felt something was amiss. He stood up, bowed slightly, and said, “Madam, please sit.” The lady then realized she had just acted like a schoolchild answering a teacher’s question. Her face flushed, and she turned to sit on the edge of the bed, her lovely lips slightly pouting. At that moment, there was a knock at the door, and Paul’s men brought in dinner. Paul told them to place the dishes on the table and then dismissed them. He then rose, bowed, and said, “You must be hungry. I won’t disturb your meal any longer. Please allow me to take my leave. I will visit you again tomorrow.” With that, Paul turned and left. The lady sat silently on the edge of the bed, her tense nerves slowly relaxing. She had been mentally prepared for humiliation, but when the danger suddenly passed, all her strength seemed to have been drained away. She turned and lay face down on the bed, tears streaming down her face.


























































































































































She sobbed softly for a while, her stomach growling with hunger. She glanced at the food the cook had carefully prepared on the table, went over, and began to eat slowly. The image of the eccentric Captain Paul lingered in her mind; she couldn't believe this infamous pirate could be a gentleman. Her guard didn't relax.




Paul left the lady's cabin and went to the deck, his hand resting on the gunwale. He exhaled sharply. The demonic urge he had been forcibly suppressing finally subsided. He tried to stop thinking about the Baroness's face, a mixture of allure and aloofness, and her graceful, elegant figure. But her cold, slightly condescending, and wary gaze remained vivid in his mind, refusing to leave.




Three pirate ships, hijacking the merchant ship, slowly sailed south towards the Bahamas. The sea was calm, and the merchant ship moved slowly.




Paul went to the lady's cabin every day to exchange a few words.




The lady barely responded to him, so Paul would ramble on about all sorts of things.




He talked about his experiences traveling throughout Europe, about the interesting stories of the British royal family, the eccentricities and absurdities of the Spanish royal family, the current war, and the hardships of the world.




Gradually, the lady began to watch him, drawn in by his topics, and occasionally chimed in.




They began to talk. In such a boring and lonely long sea voyage, finding a friend to chat with was a luxury.




The lady's mood began to relax; she even felt that Paul's knowledge was no less than that of the nobles, perhaps even more insightful than most of them.




She even began to admire this seemingly casual but carefree pirate captain.




Paul also seemed to enjoy his time with the lady; he greeted her politely, dined with her, and chatted with her.




But sometimes he would suddenly get up and leave, even rudely interrupting her when she was engrossed in conversation, taking his leave without warning, leaving her bewildered.




Each time he escaped from the lady's side, Paul cursed himself inwardly. He had to leave her as soon as possible.




When he sat beside her, he spoke seemingly casually. But in reality, he was completely captivated and attracted by her.




The feminine aura emanating from her graceful figure was so alluring; her beautiful face, gentle and delicate voice, the loose strands of hair by her ears, her swan-like elegant neck—all of these made him lose his mind.




Her upright back when she sat, the curve of her slender waist that widened abruptly from beneath her skirt, the graceful way she held her teacup with her beautiful fingers, her always slightly raised, unapproachable, sacred expression—all these things aroused both his reverence and an uncontrollable, intense desire to desecrate and violate her.




So he quickly found an excuse to leave, fearing he might do something foolish.




One day, as evening approached, after they had dinner together, drinking tea and talking, the lady stood up to get the thermos to refill the teacups. As she turned, her waist swayed gracefully, displaying her alluring femininity.




Paul felt a sudden surge of heat, a rush of blood to his head. He stood up, rushed to her, and suddenly swept her up in his arms.




The lady gasped in surprise, afraid of being heard, and dared not shout. She struggled angrily, hitting him with her hands.




Ignoring her, Paul carried her to the bedside, threw her onto it, and the lady rolled over, but before she could get up, Paul pounced on her…




In the morning, the lady awoke from her deep sleep to find herself lying naked in bed, Paul gone.




She remembered what had happened the night before, and her face flushed again.




That dark, strong man had rendered her completely powerless; her attempts to resist were easily thwarted.




She remembered her desperate struggles and resistance, which had initially flustered him, but when he stripped off her upper garments and bound her hands behind her back with a long handkerchief, she completely lost her will to resist.




She was stripped naked, and he kissed her entire body.




He picked her up, placed her on his lap, and then wantonly ravaged her body with his powerful hands. She felt his erect penis pressing hard against her genitals.




She resisted, refusing to lower her proud head or beg for mercy from this thief.




When this thief penetrated her body, she was astonished by the size of his male organ, and even more astonished by her own body's reaction. Although she felt extremely ashamed and psychologically resisted, her body reacted in the exact opposite way; her vagina secreted a large amount of lubrication, welcoming the brutal thief's intrusion.




At this moment, Paul returned home. He saw her trying to get up, but upon seeing him, she immediately retreated back into the covers, wrapping herself tightly in them. Then, a pair of eyes filled with anger shot over. Paul had




just practiced swordsmanship on the deck for a while, working up a sweat and feeling refreshed.




He sat down in a chair, picked up a towel, and wiped his sweat.




He gazed at her, her face and flowing hair barely visible, and the image of her from the previous night flashed before his eyes.




Her body was so sensitive; she had probably been without a man for a long time. He noticed her unusually intense reaction to male physical contact; with the slightest teasing, she couldn't help but moan. When he placed his hand between her legs, he found her already soaking wet.




Her mind resisted, her nature was steadfast, but her body betrayed her.




Her wrists were bound behind her back in humiliation, her head twisting away, refusing to let him kiss her lips. She appeared both brave and admirable, yet her body was brimming with feminine allure, tempting men to commit heinous crimes.




As he pressed his penis against her vulva, the head sliding between her labia, he saw despair and hatred in her eyes. But he still thrust into her without hesitation.




He felt the arousal within her vagina. She hadn't been with a man in so long.




During intercourse, he felt the tightness and spasmodic contractions of her vagina. The inner walls of her vagina seemed to be in a state of intense, slippery flow.




He saw her love juices slowly flowing down his penis with each thrust, spreading across her labia majora and minora and her entire perineum.




Her vagina seemed alive, like a writhing snake, enveloping his penis and sucking at him with the tender flesh of her inner walls.




She had forgotten how to resist; when the first orgasm arrived, her face flushed, and tears of excitement and shame streamed down her face.




As she reached her long-awaited climax, and the excitement slowly subsided, Paul left his engorged, hard penis inside her vagina, enjoying her contractions.




She gradually calmed down, her vagina loosening, and Paul slowly thrust a few more times, gradually eliciting a response from her.




Soft moans escaped her lips and nose, and with Paul's renewed assault, she was once again swept up in the waves of desire.




Paul couldn't remember how many times he'd sensed her suppressed desires for so long, and finally, on this night, her pent-up primal lust found an outlet.




She was passive; Paul controlled her, guided her, indulged her, letting her release herself completely.




He used brutal methods to force her to lay down her arms and remove her armor.




He utterly annihilated her.

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