The remainder of the voyage passed by timelessly. It might have been the six weeks it actually was, or six months or years or just a few minutes. Someone marked the days at sea on the base of the mast where it was founded in a complicated joint to the keel board. Victoria didn’t bother to look or count the groups of four vertical lines with a diagonal slash across for each completed set.
Her passage of time on the voyage was taken up, either sitting alone and silently at the far end of the hold that held just over half of the original cargo, or being violated by her captor who had chosen her body for his own pleasure. Daily, monkey boy capered down on a rope, selected the chosen and then tied a rope around their waist to be hauled up, out through the hatch. For some reason that Victoria could not fathom, those who were selected were not welcomed back by the rest of the cargo. They were shunned as if leprous and had nothing but backs facing them. Even stranger, was the fact that the chosen, shunned each other as well.
Victoria felt him slip from her body, thinking that he had once again, cum in her ass. She was getting quite used to the feeling of his cock being buried inside her, feeling the throb of his orgasm and then the slow expulsion from her body of his seed, over the following hour, or so. The regular anal sex had cured her constipation, something they all suffered with from the lack of food, unless they got dysentery which usually killed them and resulted in another body floating away, discarded and forgotten as no more than human waste.
He hadn’t cum in her ass this time. Instead, he turned her around, forced her to kneel and then shoved his cock between her lips. Then he came, spurting his seed to the back of her throat. She gagged and spat the vile spend out. That was when he hit her, smacking her face with the flat of his hand.
“Next time, you swallow it all.” With that, he shoved her back towards the hatch for monkey boy to lower her back into the hold.
They crossed the Atlantic in mostly fine weather, but as they neared the Caribbean Islands, the winds got up, until they met a raging storm full on. Waves, that seemed taller than the ship, crashed over the gunwales and set the decks awash. Even with the hatches battened down, much of the water found its way to the bilges, dripping through cracks in the overhead planking, soaking the miserable cargo. It was a fierce storm, with incessant winds shrieking through the rigging and throwing the vessel about like a cork. The mast groaned under the weight, even though all the sails were furled and tied. Caulking split away from the planking, causing more water to leak into the hold in sprays too numerous to count.
By the end of the storm, another six inches had been added to the bilge water, bringing it up to their knees. At least, while the storm had raged, no one was hauled out of the hold to be used by the sailors. They were much too busy trying to stay afloat. And then, when everything had calmed down, too busy caulking the leaks before ramming pitch between the joints.
Of the one hundred and fifty or so left in the hold, twenty died from sea sickness, being too weak to endure the tossing and churning. The bodies were slung on a rope to be dumped over the side.
Victoria was pulled up through the hatch a day later. His leering face waited for her to emerge from the depths of the ship. Once she was upright, standing on the deck, besides the raised boarding of the hold, he dragged her away towards the bow to the chain locker. He closed the door behind them, creating a darkness that was punctured by the strong sunlight coming through the slats of the windowless door. She was already naked, her clothing long since disintegrated or stripped from her body. It didn’t bother her anymore. She had given up trying to hide her nakedness and didn’t notice if anyone looked or not.
He took her in his arms, almost tenderly, like a lover might and tried to kiss her. Victoria turned her face away so that his lips met her cheek. It was a futile defiance, she knew, but gave her a small feeling of triumph.
His grasp of her chin was anything but gentle. Roughly, he brought her head around to face him and then planted his cracked lips over hers. His tongue forced its way past her lips, but by clamping her jaw, would not get into her mouth.
“We reach St Dominique tomorrow, so this is the last time we will be together. ” He said it, and no doubt, thought it as if he was doing her a service by invading her body. He said it as a parting lover might, before going off to war.
Victoria shrugged, but still refused his tongue.
He gave up on that and began to play with her tits as he had the first time they came together. It seemed to fascinate him, watching the nubs elongate and harden. He seemed transfixed by the bounce of her breasts and the feel of her nipples on his palms as her rubbed them.
But, it was always his entry into her anus that held the most pleasure for him. Even though he had visited her many times through the voyage, she always came to him tight, her muscles creating a ring at the base of his cock when he was buried deeply into her. The pressure was a beautiful feeling and then, the feeling of his cum blasting past her sphincter was sublime.
Being that this was to be their last time, he wanted more. Yes he would have loved to enter her properly and fill her guts up with baby seed, but her value as a virgin was far greater in the market, so he could wait until they got back to Southampton and his wife. He had yet to taste her. His own impatience to shoot his load had stopped him before now. But, this was the last time with this little black woman and he wanted more than anything, to run his tongue over her pink, inner pussy lips and taste what a black woman was like.
He grabbed her under the arms and scooted her backwards until she was sat on the edge of a locker. Pushing her back so that she was prone, he lifted one of her legs and hoisted it over his shoulder. There, before his eyes, was her slit, covered in thick hair, hiding the pinkness between folds. He prodded her with his fingers, found her lips and parted them until her pinkness was open to his gaze. He licked his lips and then lowered his head until her sex was lost in his mouth. He slurped and suckled, drawing her pussy into his mouth and then running his tongue over her crack, parting lips and teasing her depths. Her clit rubbed on his nose as he licked her and the more it rubbed, the harder it became, just like her nipples.
He sucked it between his lips and nibbled gentle. Suddenly, Victoria came alive and gripped his hair, pulling him into her. The intense feeling she received from her clit came as a surprise to both of them and the effects shocked them equally. Victoria came in a gush, in less than a few minutes, suddenly and completely, her hips jutted up to increase her pleasure. It was a purely animalistic reaction, totally un-thought. She gasped and then gasped again as if starved of oxygen and trembled while small shocks went through her in little quakes.
The sailor wet his fingers and lubricated her ass. Suddenly, it seemed less than the right thing to do now that she had an orgasm as she had, but he had his needs and fucking her properly would only mean fucking up his pay packet.
Slowly, he pushed his cock into her ass, delighting in her tightness and the feel of her muscles in an O around his shaft. Her warmth was hotter than normal and, with her on her back; his passage into her was so much the easier than standing as they usually did.
He stroked her clit with the pad of his thumb as he pounded into her. Victoria started to become animated again and then positively vibrant as her second orgasm built deep within her.
She cried out, not with pain or discomfort, but with a crescendo of orgasm. Her legs locked behind his back, pulling him even deeper into her and forcing her legs to part even further. His thumb pressed and rubbed her engorged clit as he blasted his spend into her, feeling several spurts in the constriction of her ass.
It was the best sex he could remember and the first time he had ever made a woman cum without pretending, if, that is, they bothered at all.
The next morning, just after sunrise, the shout ‘Land Ho’ came from the crows nest, high on the main mast. With a small correction to course, the ship steered into port some three hours later. The sails were quickly furled by sailors clambering along the yard arms and spars. Pilot barges, completed the passage into a docking bay, with thick ropes steering the large ship.
The miserable cargo could hear the hubbub of many voices on the quayside, the creak of winches as goods were hoisted over the gunwales and good natured sallies of riballed comments flowed between the Dockers and Sailors.
Eventually, it was their turn to be off loaded onto the wooden jetty. The rope that had been their umbilical cord was replaced with a chain that looped through iron manacles clamped to their ankles. Crude iron hoops held their wrists together behind their backs. In several long files, the slaves were herded towards a low level quayside hut with only one window. Iron bars, set in the mortar, covered the aperture.
Before they were pushed through the door, buckets of freezing cold seawater were thrown over them by a leering group of lackeys, presumable to wash the sink of the bilge and death from their greying skins. Then, wringing wet and still mostly naked, they were pushed into the searing heat of the airless prison.
Fortunately, their stay within the confines of the cell was quite short. The barred door flew open and they were ordered back out into the heat of the noon sun to line up on the dockside. Without their knowing it, the auction had begun. White men dressed in khakis or tropical whites and leather or black felt Stetson hats, walked along the lines of black nakedness, pausing every so often to lift a lip and inspect the teeth of a motionless slave.
Victoria’s turn came for inspection. She looked boldly into the cold blue eyes of the man as he stood in front of her. Her sailor capered beside the man, hoping to increase her value with his incessant chatter. A price was agreed and the white man made to move along the line, but her stare caught him and before she knew what happened, a backhanded slap to her cheek had felled her.
In perfect Swahili, he told her that next time he saw her; she had better have her eyes on the ground and never look him in the eye again.
She spat blood from the cut inside her cheek and managed to get upright again. The Bossman had moved on down the line, forgetting her.