Pirate Captive

by Troy M. Grant (originally published in [2] Magazine)


I swallowed hard as two burly pirates grabbed me and one held a sword to my neck. Sweat trickled down my bare chest while the sound of a rapidly clicking camera traveled across the expanse of the ship’s main deck. As I struggled, the photographer squeezed off another round.

“That’s great, Tristian,” he called out. “We’ll move on to the next shot as soon as you’re ready.”





“Pirate Model” (2007)
I was ushered to my makeup chair on one side of the deck to freshen my look and dab off any perspiration. We were shooting the layout for Stud Muffins’ new line of pirate-inspired underwear on board a ship that had been specially constructed for use in pirate films. I was quite sure no pirate had ever worn anything remotely resembling the skimpy bikini briefs I had on, but historical accuracy was irrelevant. Perhaps such a garment had been used to torture captives, I thought, since my seven and-a-half-inch dick was so constricted, it ached. I couldn’t wait to get my cock out of the damned thing and into the warm, wet mouth of one of my fellow models.

The shoot wasn’t all bad. We were just offshore a Caribbean island somewhere in the Bermuda Triangle– a real tropical paradise. When the day was done I would return to my luxury hotel $2,000 richer than the day before. There I’d grab a hottie and let him fuck me all night long. Such was the life of a model.

In the next setup, I was posed straddling an open treasure chest filled with fake gold coins and ersatz jewels. Wardrobe had dressed me in a pirate’s coat, which appeared authentic enough by itself, but what pirate ever wore an open jacket, leather boots, skimpy briefs, and nothing else? I put all that out of my mind as I posed for the photographer, angling my head so that the tropical breeze would catch my long blond hair just right for the camera.

A loud rumble sounded in the distance, an ominous haze rolled in, and the crew scattered, knowing full well that Caribbean storms are notorious for their rapid appearance and ferocity. A churning, greenish- gray array of angry-looking clouds swirled overhead. I’d never seen such an ugly sky. The ship began to pitch alarmingly. We headed for shore.















I held on to the railing as the sea became increasingly rough. I could barely believe the transformation from clear skies to darkening tempest. There was a blinding flash above us followed by a loud cracking sound. As the main mast came crashing down, I jumped back, tripped over a cord and was tossed onto the deck. My head hit hard and all went black.


I awakened when I was rudely jerked to my feet. My head was swimming. I peered through the gloom as my vision cleared, trying to figure out where exactly I was. Men were rushing about, all clad in outdated shirts, coats, britches, and boots. Where the hell was I? It took a few moments for me to remember the photo shoot.

“Not so rough!” I yelled. “I can make it by myself.”

“Ye’ll not be givin’ the orders here! That’s for sure!”

Great. One of the models was losing himself in the part– -probably that Abercrombie reject, Matt. He had the body of a god and the brains of a gnat.

“Get off.”

“If ye know what’s good for ya, keep yer mouth shut.” I’d just about had enough. I turned my head to give this idiot a piece of mind, when I stopped dead still. It wasn’t Matt. Nor was it any of the other models or members of our crew. In fact, I didn’t recognize anyone.

I was manhandled across the deck where I was lashed securely to what was left of the main mast. There I stood, trying to make sense of this situation. How long had I been unconscious? I checked out the scene around me: It still looked like our pirate ship except that the cameras and lighting equipment were gone as was the crew dressed in modern, seaworthy clothing that we’d shipped out with.

This can’t be happening, I thought. This can’t be real.

“What’s this nonsense?” boomed a commanding voice. “Dropped out of the sky, eh? Yer daft!”

I turned my head to see a young man of about my own age, no more than 21 to be sure, heading toward me. He was shouting at the “pirate” who’d hustled me across the deck and who yelled back:

“See for yerself, Big Johnny!”

The name didn’t seem to fit the man approaching me. Under his large coat, he appeared to be broad-shouldered and thick-chested but he was still a good six inches shorter than my 6-foot-2.

Yet I gulped as Big Johnny neared. He had a wild, uncivilized look to him. His gaze was at once mischievous, calculating, and dangerous. I felt hypnotized, as if Big Johnny could control me if I peered into his eyes too deeply. His jet-black hair was long and curly. He was handsome enough to be a model but at the same time too frightening to grace the cover of any magazine. Something about him, though, made my cock throb. I was still clad in nothing but those ultra-skimpy briefs, leather boots, and my long, black coat. I glanced down and saw that the shorts were straining to contain my growing erection.



“Pirate Bondage” (2007)



“Ye spoke the truth, Jack– at least in part. What a pretty bird has flown onto our ship.”

What the flick? Why are these guys talking like that? It was like being trapped in a bad movie.

I eyed Big Johnny apprehensively. Hard muscle rippled just under his clothing. The contrast between the stark white of his shirt, his bronzed skin, and his dark pirate’s jacket made him both frightening and sexy, as did the silver hoop earring dangling from his right ear and the large skull-and-crossbones medallion around his neck. His whole countenance was one of danger and unexpected sensuality. I was repelled by and drawn toward him in equal measure.

Big Johnny stared into my eyes. Certainly he could read the fear there and likely the lust as well. He grinned, sensing an advantage. Not that he needed one– — after all, I was tied to the freaking mast!

“I don’t know who you are, but there will be big trouble if you don’t let me go!” I shouted over the wind.

Someone grabbed my hair and pulled it back painfully, adding a redundant warning: “Ye’ll not talk to the Captain like that if ye know what’s good for ye!”

My eyes grew wild with terror. These guys were not fucking around. And who the fuck were they? Had terrorists taken over the ship? I decided I’d best play along.

“Sorry, Captain,” I said meekly.

Big Johnny rubbed the stubble on his chin, appraising me from head to toe.

“I’ll interrogate the prisoner in my quarters,” he announced, walking away.

I was cut loose from the mast, only to have my hands retied behind my back before I was herded toward the ship’s stern.

In moments I found myself alone with Big Johnny. I summoned all my courage and spoke.

“Did you and your men take over my ship?”

“Yer ship? I know nothin’ about yer ship. This is my ship, The Scourge of the Seas. My man Jack came to me with a wild story about a blond devil fallin’ from the sky. I thought he was daft, but here ye are.”

None of this made any sense. The Scourge of the Seas? The queerest feeling came over me.

“What year is it?” I asked in a low voice.

Big Johnny eyed me like my deck was short a few cards.

“It’s 1643. What else year could it be?”

That settled it. I was having a seriously fucked-up dream, was still unconscious. But why did everything seem so real? This dream wasn’t dreamlike at all.

“What’s yer name, boy?”

“Tristian,” I said.

“Interestin’ outfit ya got yerself there, Tristian,” said Big Johnny, scrutinizing my attire. He stepped closer.

He reached out and slid his hand from my abdomen up my chest. I swallowed hard as my cock throbbed and lengthened. The head of my dick inched its way free of my skimpy briefs. I began to breathe a little harder. Big Johnny gazed down, then straight into my eyes. His face had a wicked, controlling demeanor.

“So that’s how ye are, is it?”

He rubbed the bulge in his britches. I was afraid, confused, and incredibly aroused.

“These ropes are cutting my wrists,” I said.

Big Johnny grinned at me, and pulled a large knife from his belt. I wasn’t sure whether he was going to cut me free or slash my throat. He walked around behind me and sliced through the ropes. I breathed a sigh of relief.

We stood there looking at each other. I hadn’t a clue about what the fuck was going on, but I was mad horny. I wanted Big Johnny more than I’d ever wanted anyone. But even though I knew it would most likely be suicide, I reached out and groped him. And before I knew what I was doing, I had unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his britches, and pushed them down to his ankles. I quickly understood Big Johnny’s name: He was barely semi hard, but his cock was enormous. It grew as I stared at it, lengthening, thickening, until it stuck straight out at me. It had to be 12 inches! Big Johnny, indeed. He could have named his price as a pom star.

I couldn’t help myself. I reached out and stroked it.

“Mmmm,” he moaned.

I fell to my knees. I had to worship that magnificent cock with my lips and tongue. Big Johnny oozed pre-come. I leaned in and lapped it up. I teased the head of his cock, then swallowed it. I worked my lips lower and lower as Big Johnny muttered and moaned with pleasure.

“Ye sure are good there, Tristian. Ye are a devil, aren’t ye?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My mouth was stuffed full of cock. I gazed upward and tried to grin. I was starved for Big Johnny’s cock. I didn’t care what he might do to me. All that mattered was my lips on his big, veiny cock.

Sensing my eagerness he thrust into my mouth. When I’d taken all I could handle, there were still inches to go.

I slid my lips up to the tip of it and sucked him down again, then bobbed my head as he groaned and rotated his hips. His cock jumped and oozed pre-come with my every movement.

I was all over the musky thing. Big Johnny slipped off his coat and pulled his shirt over his head. His hairy chest was sweaty, making his torso gleam. I nearly creamed just looking at him. His chest bulged with muscle. Big Johnny was a god!




“Pirate Fuck” (2007)


I sucked him even more intently, making his cock throb with renewed force. I pulled off for a few moments and drew his nuts to my mouth. I licked all over his nut sac, then pulled one between my lips, then the other, then hungrily both. I rolled them around on my tongue, amazed at how firm and hefty they were. I massaged his nuts with my lips and tongue.

That did it.

Big Johnny blew a massive load. The first spurt went high and left a sticky trail of pirate spunk across his neck. The next one plastered his awesome pecs, getting his medallion sticky with come. Those were the only two blasts that escaped before I wrapped my lips around his pole and took the rest of his wad in my mouth.

His cock pulsed and jerked as he pumped my throat full of his captain’s cream. He grabbed the back of my head and savagely fucked my face as jet after jet of his stud juice shot between my swollen lips. I drank it down and sucked him for more. He was unrelenting. I always dumped huge loads, but it was nothing compared to his output. Impressed as I was, I drank down every last spurt, savoring the sweet tartness of it. Big Johnny finally sent his last shot into me, pulled out of my mouth, and was still rock-hard!

I pushed him on his back onto a heavy table, pounced on him and proceeded to tongue his peeks while I nuzzled his sweaty hide, sucked on his stiff nipples, and tried to chew on his thick, hard rows of abdominal muscles.

He grinned and said nothing. Then I threw my legs across his hips and straddled his enormous cock, easing myself down slowly to impale my butt on Big Johnny’s magnificent man sword, sinking down slowly until my ass had swallowed it all.

Up top, my hard-on was freely releasing endless pre-come as I began to ride my pirate captain. Our bodies heaved in concert with the sea’s swells below us. His muscular flanks formed a perfect saddle to keep my hole stretched and amply filled. I rapidly approached the point of no return. In a snap moment my back arched, sweat flew from my whipping hair, and I disgorged my balls’ reservoir of come all over Big Johnny’s flexing chest.

Taking my uncontrolled lead, he drilled my treasure hole with howling abandon and abruptly let loose a series of surging come shots, coating my insides as I managed to continue draining myself into the salty humidity of his cabin quarters. The flowing power of our thrashing, ultimate orgasm was so intense I could sense that I was blacking out no matter how much air I sucked in.

When I came to, I was splayed on the deck of the ship– my ship– it was heading for shore, and the storm’s strength had moved on. I sat up and, assessing the scene quickly, realized that everything was just as it should have been.

That was one intense dream, I said to myself.




“Pirate Love” (2007)

I stood up and steadied myself, but my ass was so sore I could barely move as my head spun a bit. Then I looked down into my hands and saw that one of them was clutching Big Johnny’s gold medallion. It glinted at me in the growing sunlight, and I could feel my loins begin to burn. ♥



One Comment

  • 4/15/15 1:04p Anti-Heroes Pirate Dream Troy M. Grant
    I never could pass up a raunchy Pirate story.
    One problem: was Big Johnny really Short Johnny?
    You said he was Six inches shorter in Height,
    maybe 5 Feet 6 inches to Tristian’s 6 Ft 2 inches.
    Couldn’t he have been at least the same height?
    Short Johnny with the Big Dick.

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