"Gunner! Man the bow chasers!" Pellew shouted. "Not into the hull, damn you. I want to cripple her, not sink her!"

Whoratio was on the quarter deck in an instant. He loved to watch his captain in action. He stood very close and began fondling his captain’s arse, under the tail of his uniform jacket. Pellew gave him a wolfish grin and Whoratio leered gleefully at the prize soon to be in their wicked clutches.

"Where’s the Imp?" Pellew asked slipping his hand under Whoratio’s jacket for his own handful of firm flesh.

"Fast asleep, sir," Whoratio said, raising his eyebrow and smiling.

"Roust him out. I know he’ll want to lead the boarding party. Tell him to bring his sharpest cutlass. Yet, it’s prisoners we want. Fresh, rich bluebloods, willing to pay us well for their lives of leisure. Is that understood?"

"Aye, sir. Prisoners it is, sir," Whoratio said, striding off to wake his shipmate and tell him the good news.

"All hands to quarters," Pellew bellowed and men swarmed like hungry ants about the ship.

A few moments later, Arch Imp, shining cutlass in his white teeth, swung aboard the little yacht. The thump of grapnels, the screams of the boarders were meant to freeze the blood of the few poor souls huddled around the yacht’s wheel. Even so, the pirates expected token resistance. It was a British vessel after all, not some cowardly Frenchman.

So the lack of fight put Archie out of sorts. He strode up to the disdainful man at the wheel. He was proudly handsome, his shining face surrounded by a halo of tight yellow curls. His chin was raised and he looked down his noble nose at the Arch Imp.

Archie shouted, "Are you French that you don’t put up a fight? Or just a lily-livered bastard?"

"I believe you should address me as My Lord," the calm, well-dressed man said with a wry smile curving his manly mouth. He took a deep breath and said, "I am, after all, the Earl of Edrington."

"And is that supposed to mean we should go back to our ship bidding you a polite g’day?"

"I do not choose to fight you and your men because I mean to strike a bargain with your captain. You see, I have my family on board. Therefore, I request a moment to speak with your infamous Captain Pellew."

A beautiful blonde-haired woman stood up and seized her husband’s arm. "My darling, if my virtue will save our children, please, don’t have a care for me."

"I will do my best, Dearest," the Earl said calmly as he surrendered his sword and pistol to Lieutenant Kennedy. "Mellors will stay with you and the children for now."

The beautiful lady was a worthy prize, but not exactly to the taste of Arch Imp. Rather he caught sight of two young boys, blond as their mother, proud as their father. Archie’s mouth watered. Fresh dainties for the Captain.

Then he frowned. No, he wouldn’t mention the children. Whoratio would roast him alive if he thought the yacht carried such delicious young captives. Then, Archie’s roving eye caught the haughty gaze of the man His Lordship had called Mellors.

Clear, defiant eyes as green as the mountainous waves of the Roaring Forties. Tawny hair like a lion’s mane. Long legs and broad shoulders, a narrow waist and a rounded backside. True perfection in a man, Archie thought, wiping his slavering mouth.

All the while Archie gazed at Mellors, the man gazed back in audacity. He swaggered and raised his eyebrow.

Finally, as the Earl was about to step across into the Relentless, he looked at his family’s protector and said, "That will be quite enough, Mellors."

"Aye, Milord. Jus’ wouldn’t mind a good fookin’, is all, sir. An’ e’s as pretty as they coome."

"I quite agree, Mellors. But, for now, look after her Ladyship and the children."

"Aye, sir."

The Earl of Edrington was led before Captain Pellew who stood high on the quarter deck. The two men looked deeply into each other’s eyes and at the same moment precisely, the right corners of their mouths curled upward. With a small gesture of his hand, Pellew ordered the yacht away. It’s few crewmen raced along the deck trimming the sails. A beautifully pale woman held the wheel, two boys at her side. She waved slowly and the Earl raised his hand in salute.

Behind the Captain, Whoratio glared. He was not pleased that his Captain desired someone other than himself. Then, like the sun peeking out from behind a cloud, Edrington smiled at Whoratio. His eyes dared the Lieutenant to look away. That flashing glance struck a spark that ignited a fuse leading to the powder within Whoratio’s belly. Suddenly, he needed this proud lord under his guns and helpless before a full broadside.

There was a shout at the rail near the mizzen chains. Two sailor lads hauled up a bedraggled man soaking wet. From across the waist, Kennedy sprinted, cutlass in hand.

"He’s mine," he shouted. "I claim him."

Whoratio swung his attention to the second man in custody. He was of middle height and weight, yet his stance even when held prisoner by the seamen was of a tiger crouching to spring. Never before had Whoratio seen a body so well crafted; nor one so animated by a feral presence like this one. The man’s chin was up. His green eyes sparkled. He sneered at his captors. He swaggered as he was led before Captain Pellew. He stood cockily, knowing his rear was firm perfection in French cavalry breeches.

Whoratio felt Kennedy beside him. His hot breath upon his face and neck. His panting whisper reached his ear.

"He’s mine, Whoratio."

Without turning his head, Whoratio replied, "Come, come Arch! Share and share, eh?"

Captain Pellew interrupted them. "You have command, Mr. Hornblower. I’ll be in my cabin."

"Aye, aye, sir!" Horatio said.

The Captain and the Earl walked quickly down. On the way, a young sailor handed the Earl a cloth traveling bag.

"From yer wife, Milord," the man said, knuckling his forehead and bowing a half dozen times.

"Thank you," the Earl said graciously, nodding politely at the sailor’s salute, then following the Captain inside his cabin.

"Seems my wife packed a few things for me..." Edrington said, peering into the depths of the bag. "Interesting things..."

"Like?"

"My wife is a very amusing woman. She has a keen sense of occasion, I believe."

"What could she have sent for an occasion like this? Her husband’s ignominious rape!"

"She’s really quite a wit, being a cousin of Sir Percy Blakeney. You know how he used to get himself up into all sorts of disguises."

"Outwitted the French a thousand times, yes. They seek him here, there and everywhere."

"But they never found him because he could disguise himself so well. He even fooled me once."

"Eh?"

"Lady Edrington learned I’d gone out whoring. She sent him to find me. He was dressed in a most fetching gown, high-waisted with an amazing amount of cleavage for a man. I found myself captivated and captured. He was sensational. No wonder the French wanted him caught."

"Women’s clothing..."

"Yes, everything. Silk dress, petticoat, cincher, stockings, bustier, corset, garters. And I think they’ll fit. They’re not Margaret’s, of course. She’s a petite little thing. Like a boy. Must be her maid’s."

"Er, hurmph," Pellew coughed, growing warm at the thought of the slender lord dressed in women’s clothing, tied to his bed, shrieking for mercy and getting none.

The Earl noticed the Captain’s blush and said, "If you’d rather have the honor of the costume, sir, be my guest. I enjoy the role of huntsman as much as the role of fox in the bush."

Pellew eyed the assortment of frilly things. He was proud of his slim waist and his narrow hips. The garments would fit, surely. He was sorely tempted. Yet, something in him caused him to pause. Surely he could not play a woman’s role and remain captain. He shook his head and waved his hand.

"You, Milord, change into the dress, if you please," Pellew ordered in a hoarse whisper. "I’m the huntsman here."

"As you wish, sir," Edrington replied, his eyes twinkling and his little wry smile returning to his thin aristocratic lips.

In an amazingly short time, the Lord Edrington was transformed into Lady Isabelle Edrington, a name of his own fancy. The gown, high-waisted and low-backed and a deep green velvet, turned Edrington’s hazel eyes to emerald. His blond hair, freed from its tight club framed his beautiful face and trailed down his bare lightly-freckled back.

His bosom heaved prettily against the cruel whalebone stays of the shaper beneath the bodice of the dress. His waist was squeezed narrower than a boy’s, allowing the fabric of the dress to lay in heavy folds against his flat backside as he raised the skirts to place a garter high upon his shapely thigh. Pellew licked his lips. His appetite was whetted.

Lastly, Edrington wedged his fine feet into the little narrow shoes and attempted to walk gracefully toward the mirror. His gait was mincing and Pellew found it intensely seductive. In fact, it reminded him of the time Whoratio had walked to the mirror in order to see the great ivory phallas that impaled him. The memory brought a wave of delight coursing through the Captain’s groin.

Pellew closed his eyes a moment as shivers ran through all his limbs. He wondered how long his breeches might restrain the mighty Anaconda that awakened within. Seeking room, Pellew felt it crawled down his leg, growing thicker and more muscular as it fought against the pale fabric. Then, Pellew noticed that Edrington was staring at the growing monster too.

Isabelle’s face wore a splendid look of extreme horror. She glanced to the right and left. Then she bolted for the door. Pellew beat her to it, slamming the bolt and latching it with a handy padlock. He dropped the key into his breeches!

"Do you want the key, my dear?" Pellew asked, his head tilted to the side. "Then come and meet its guardian."

"No!" Edrington shrieked, running to the far side of the cabin.

Pellew followed. He said menacingly, "I’m seeking a Golden Fleece. And I believe I know where I can find one."

"Keep away!" Isabelle cried, batting daintily at him with her fingertips, brushing his chest lightly and raising the nipples beneath the linen of his shirt.

Pellew slipped his arm around Edrington’s slender waist, lifting the creature, subtly both man and woman, off the floor. Edrington’s arms laced about the Captain’s strong neck. A whiff of scent, manly and warm, reached Pellew’s nostrils.

He flung his burden into the middle of his bed. Isabelle crawled toward the head of the bed, her green eyes filled with tears, her legs parting slightly, her knees raised. Pellew tore off his breeches and flung off his shirt. He leaped upon his quarry.

There he ripped the bodice of the green velvet gown with incredible satisfaction. Neatly on the seam, the garment gave way, its stitching weakened by design perhaps. Off came the whalebone stays. Edrington could breathe and he sighed into the Captain’s ear.

"Be gentle, sir," Isabelle pleaded, kneading the wide muscular chest in front of her, running her long manicured nails through the lush, dark curls on Pellew’s manly body.

"Gentle, your arse, m’um," Pellew wheezed, his hands beneath her knees, thrusting her legs above his shoulders and battering her with his moist, but ungreased, ram.

A shout of real pain escaped Edrington. He fought in earnest a moment until the spear was lodged deeply within him and Pellew stopped a moment to catch his own breath.

"Gads, that feels good, sir," Edrington said in the pause. "Mellors hasn’t your thickness."

"You’re not so bad yourself, sir," Pellew whispered. "I can’t seem to get my lieutenants to put up much of a fight. Against their training, you see."

"Umm, I imagine they place you upon a rather lofty pedestal. I have the same trouble with the servants at home," Edrington admitted.

"I suppose you would," Pellew said, thinking a moment. Then he asked, "Shall I press on?"

"Be my guest, sir," Edrington gasped as Pellew’s mighty serpent began exploring the depths of his Lordship’s hot, moist intestinal jungle.

The friction of Pellew’s body against his own allowed Edrington’s cock a measure of his rapist’s pleasure. The Captain’s mouth was eagerly sucking his Lordship’s manly breasts, teasing his aching nipples with tongue and teeth. At the same time, the Captain’s heavy flesh heaved inside Edrington where it touched the center of his pleasure. Each time, it sent a wave of voluptuous sensation to his own organ, which pumped clear teardrops from its single eye.

At last, Pellew seemed to reach the summit of his climb within Edrington’s body. His outward motions ceased and his organ pulsed furiously. Within, it jetted out its fountain of seed.

At the same time, the Captain’s fingertips touched the sensitive, weeping head of Edrington’s cock. It answered the tender mercy and immediately gushed into his hands. Then they lay together satisfied, panting for a quarter hour before the Captain called out that his bath water should be heated.