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The Stowaway; part 1	By : ravenwoman Category: Individual Celebrities > Johnny Depp Views: 4598 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Johnny Depp. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Stowaway; part 1
- 1
The Stowaway

I first met the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow aboard the equally infamous Black Pearl as he was inspecting his new crew, of which I was a member. Or rather, hoped to be.
I dreamed of adventure on the high seas, of the freedom and excitement, of a pirate’s life. Of all the pirates I’d heard tell of, Captain Jack Sparrow was, I thought, the darkest and most intriguing. He frightened me, to be honest. But not enough to miss the chance to serve under him.
Now, watching him stalk the deck, his black eyes boring into the line of us assembled for his approval, I added to my list of attributes “sexiest”. Oh yes, he was, I realized, the sexiest pirate by far, he had to be.
It’s not what you think.
It is no doubt true that any number of young men have, over the years, joined a sailor’s crew dreaming of months at sea surrounded by sex-starved, rough men, some of whom might not balk at relieving their physical demands with a willing (or even an unwilling) young man. But I am no such young man.
I am a young woman, and I had no interest in such attentions from my fellow shipmates. Indeed, the thought of being found out, my ruse uncovered after setting sail, terrified me. So I had disguised myself carefully, binding my breasts, cutting my hair into a shaggy, collar-length bob, and practicing masculine mannerisms. In total, I think I came off rather convincingly as a young man fresh from the farm and eager to prove his manhood at sea. But as a young woman, I could not help but take note of certain things.
The Captain approached my station in the line, long top coat swishing, his eyes traveling up and down each of us in turn, his expression changing from stern one moment to disgusted, amused, or puzzled the next. He reached me and paused briefly, cocking his head and furrowing his brow as he scanned downward from the top of my hatted head to the bottom of my booted feet. His gaze seemed to me to linger the tiniest bit over my chest and the juncture of my thighs, but it might have been merely my own anxiety. I felt as if he were seeing right through my baggy second-hand clothes to my most private parts.
I willed myself not to blush, and lowered my head, seeking both to indicate respect and to hide my face behind the brim of my hat. Despite my fear of discovery and dismissal (or worse) the sensations generated were not entirely unpleasant ones. Finally, he moved on, leaving me to release my held breath and relax my stiff posture somewhat.
The first days at sea were difficult for me. The work was harder than any I’d yet done and the constant motion of the sea kept me in an equally constant state of nausea. My muscles ached and my stomach threatened mutiny at every turn. But I persevered. This was my dream, and I would be damned if some such petty complaints would deny it.
A worse, more distracting trouble was Captain Sparrow himself. Again, it is not what you think. He was a tough but fair Captain, far better than some other employers I had known. My complaint was of a different nature.
As the days and nights passed, I found myself increasingly uncomfortable in his presence. Perhaps uncomfortable is not the best term for it, though, since I soon came to thoroughly enjoy the experience. The sight, sound, smell (a brisk blend of sea, rum, sweat, and some exotic, rich spice or resin I could not place but which put me in mind of secret places and forbidden pleasures) or incidental touch of him quickly became a maddening, delicious torture. My breath quickened, my heart raced, my skin flushed, and my nipples and pussy swelled and ached with it. Thank goodness for my wide-brimmed hat, loose clothing and the bustle of the ship; otherwise, I fear my situation would have become obvious.
Later, I would lie in my hammock and furtively touch myself as I imagined he would, until I exploded in an ecstasy I had to endure in silence and stillness, surrounded by my sleeping shipmates as I was. It was a terrible, wonderful agony!
The second week out we docked at an island, one bustling with the sort of night life I’d only heard lurid tales of. The crew was instructed to enjoy itself enough to last for a long voyage and be back aboard by sunrise on the second day, on pain of dismissal or death (whichever came first). That was how Captain Sparrow put it.
I wandered the streets for several hours, taking in the sights and dining at one of the less suspect seeming establishments. As the night came on, I became increasingly uncomfortable with the bold solicitations from the other ladies in the vicinity, and, both tiring of the unwarranted attention and fearing inevitable exposure, I wandered back in the direction of the ship. As I walked, the idea of a midnight swim began to form in my mind. By the time I reached the dunes rimming the beach, I was already anticipating the warm, soothing feel of the water on my nude skin.
As I had hoped, the beach was deserted, the moon shone brightly on the white sand and gently rolling water. I strolled to a small grove of palms near the high-tide line and, after looking around one last time, disrobed. It felt wonderful to free my breasts from their wrappings and I caressed them fondly, bringing my nipples to quick erection. I stacked my clothes neatly and headed for the water.
I froze several feet from the sea as I saw there was, in fact, someone else present. Someone in the water, heading rapidly towards the shore. It was, I realized, too late to turn back and hide; the figure was already gaining the beach, waist deep. Then he turned, the moonlight catching his profile, and I saw with near swooning horror that it was Captain Jack himself.
His long hair and beard dripped, the droplets cascading down his bare arms and chest as he scanned the beach to my left. Like a lion surveying his domain he looked. As he emerged from the water, his cock came into view, as stiff, thick and tall as any mast, even more magnificent than I had imagined. I caught my breath, shocked, but then I supposed he had always been enamored of the sea; the embrace of his lover had incited this display. I felt an instant, irrational, and insane jealousy.
I knew I was caught, knew my crime was uncovered. Knew I could not stop my feet as they carried me closer to him. I thought to throw myself on his mercy, unsure as I was if he possessed any.
He saw me when I was ten feet away and turned fully toward me, his hands, raised to his hair, stilling suddenly.
Who’s there?” he demanded.
I moved closer, and he peered in my direction, bringing his arms slowly down to his sides.
It’s me, Captain.”
How do you know…”
Because you’re MY Captain, Sir, “ I said, closing the distance between us, stepping into the waves up to my knees.
Miller?” He stared, his shock and confusion apparent for a fleeting moment. Then he sighed and grimaced. “Thank God, I thought I was…nevermind.” He shook his head as if to clear the thought. His eyes took in my nakedness with a casualness that unnerved me, as if it were merely part of his domain as well, and a not especially interesting part, either.
I’m sorry, Sir, I just wanted to sail under your command. I will leave the Pearl immediately.” I turned to go, my heart a lump in my throat.
The hell you will,” he growled, and seized my arm. So he was not going to let me off so easily after all. I had not really expected as much. He turned me back to face him, his dark eyes blazing.
His member was almost touching my belly now and I was overcome with a sudden, fierce lust for it, for him. How often had I watched it secretly through his breeches, nearly mad with the wanting? Now, here it was, exposed and before me. I was overwhelmed. I knew he would likely interpret my actions as an attempt to gain favor and leniency, which was not at all the case, but I was helpless to alter my course.
I dropped to my knees, splashing my upper body and his thighs, and took it in my hand. He gasped and dropped a hand heavily onto my shoulder, but made no move to evade my advances.
I wet my lips and drew him into my mouth, moaning with desire and pleasure as I did so. He spread his legs wider, bracing himself, and thrust his hips forward strongly, a hoarse groan in his throat.
His cock filled my mouth, a hot, silken stone. I sucked as if hungry, pulling up to nurse on the engorged pink head, the taste of the sea mixing with the salty pearls of cum seeping from the opening. His grip on my shoulder became almost painful as I took him in to the hilt, deep into my throat, my lips stretched taut around the pulsing base. My tongue ran over and around his shaft, feeling every vein and ridge, exploring him. I cupped his balls in one hand, squeezing gently, and brought my other hand around to seize his tensed ass.
I felt I would die with passion, OF passion, and my pussy ached with needing him inside it. But I needed this as well, needed to feel him thrust, throb, and finally fire his hot fluids down my open throat. I reveled in every sensation of his pleasure, and in the precise power I exercised over him.
Oh God,” I moaned around him, and then fell back to sucking hard and deep. We rocked together with the rhythm of the sea, each wave wetting us anew. His breath quickened and his motions grew urgent. His vocalizations drove me to even more intense efforts. I was delirious with his delirium, my sex responding to his indications of approaching climax with deep, aching pulses.
Ohhh, luv, I’m coming!” he almost shouted, and pushed against me, as if to free himself. I held him tighter to me, and when he realized I not only didn’t mind him spending himself in my mouth but demanded it, he let go of my shoulder and took my head in both hands, driving deeper still and crying out in his orgasm.
Hot, salty cum pumped into my throat, and I swallowed just as the next flood came. He pulsed twice, three times. I gradually slowed my movements, then stopped, holding him in my mouth, feeling his heartbeat, savoring the taste of him.
His hands loosened their grip and became gentle, running through my damp hair tenderly before pulling me to my feet. His voice, when he spoke, was unsteady. “Have you, by chance, ever been to Singapore?”
I shook my head. Looking into his dazed eyes, I wanted to kiss him, to consume his mouth, so I did, slowly and wetly, drawing his lips and tongue in, nipping and sucking. The sweet ghost of rum haunted his mouth, mixing with the flavor of his spend, making an ambrosial mix.
He leaned over me, into the kiss, probing and licking, sucking and biting, our tongues dueling swords. His hands went to my breasts, fondling and squeezing them, finding the nipples and pinching, rolling, rubbing them between his callused fingers. So precise and deliberate, so unlike other men I had known. No bumbling farm-boy this! Here was a man who knew how to touch a woman, and further who CARED to touch her so as to bring her to her highest response.
My knees went weak. Only his firm hold on my breasts kept me standing, arching into his touch. Slowly breaking our kiss, he spoke. “Shall we?” and gestured expansively with one arm toward the beach. I led the way through the shallows, staggering slightly, his hand on the back of my neck guiding me.
Several yards up the sand a pile of clothing and effects came into view. He removed his hand and bent to retrieve his overcoat, which he shook out and spread on the ground. Sitting, he reached up for me. I took his hands and let him pull me down to him, onto him. I straddled him, finding his mouth again with my own. I felt his cock already growing large and hard under me, and my swollen, slippery pussy strained towards it, seeking penetration. But he held me to him closely and firmly, preventing such contact. Instead, he pressed hot and rigid against my belly as his hands ran slowly and urgently over my body; back, ass, thighs, neck, hair, breasts.
Pulling free of my lips, he leaned forward and took a nipple into his mouth, flicking it softly with the tip of his tongue, then sucking harder, his tongue lashing the engorged tissue with a slow, maddening rhythm. Then the other breast, his hands kneading my ass, slowly working their way toward my cunt. I was making deep, helpless, pleading sounds now, and arching back towards his hands, begging him with to touch me there, finally to touch me, to first probe my dripping core with his rough yet oddly delicate fingers and then to rend me apart with his iron, velvet cock. To take me like a pirate, to ravage me violently.
Oh, Sir, Captain, plea….”
Suddenly, he flipped me over, trading places, so he straddled me. He seized my upper thighs and spread them apart, his gaze on my open pussy. He was so quick and strong! All was accomplished in a moment, and I lay stunned and silent beneath him.
Call me Jack,” he commanded, a small crooked smile crossing his face. Then he drew a hissing breath and lowered his face between my legs, still holding me firmly. The first feel of his lips on my upper thigh drew a loud cry from me, and I struggled to break free, to force myself fully into his mouth. My clit was a burning, solid, pulsating orb, painfully aroused.
Shhh,” he murmured, keeping me still. “All in good time me fine lassie, all in good time. For now, you must take your punishment.” He paused, raising his head to look into my face thoughtfully. “Do you know what is typically done with stowaways, luv?” He shook his head gravely. “Not a pretty sight.” He cast his eyes back on my spread sex, smiling broadly, the moonlight glinting off his golden teeth. “Not like this be.”
He descended again, laying his lips on my vulva, barely touching, his whiskers tickling, moving with agonizing slowness. Then his tongue, so hot and soft, was inside me, feeling its way deeper, then drawing out to tentatively explore my outer lips.
I was near weeping by now, gasping and moaning, one arm thrown across my face, the other tangled in his hair. “Oh, God, I shall die of it! I’m begging you, please! Jack, I…” At that instant, he closed his lips over my clit, sucking it ever so softly, then probing it firmly with the tip of his tongue. My orgasm began immediately and built, higher and deeper, stronger and harder, into a never-ending, mind-obliterating thing, as all the while he held me down and continued his languid licking. I screamed, first like an animal, then his name, Jack! Jack! Jack!
Without warning, I felt his cock drive into me, forcing me wide open even as I spasmed tightly, again and again around it. He rode me hard, arms planted stiffly to either side of my head, long hair swinging around us. AHH, here was the pirate! Wild, unrestrained, storming my horizon, guns blazing, taking what he wanted by brute force without apology or guilt.
He rammed into me repeatedly, relentlessly, driving me back and down into the soft sand, and I met his thrusts with my own, his thick root grinding against me with every stroke, until I came again, silently this time, stricken dumb by the sheer ecstasy of it. I was still coming when he cried out and I felt his cock swell and pulse strongly within me. His hot seed spurted deep inside. He came in waves, filling me with gush after gush of his spill, still thrusting. When he was finally spent, he collapsed onto me, his breath heavy and hot against my neck.
After, we lay tangled together, the ocean sighing around us. I dozed, my head resting on his chest, one hand on his belly, his arm around my shoulder. His voice brought me back from the edge of sleep.
As your Captain, I order you to remain in my service. In fact, I think a promotion is in order, savvy?”
I smiled and trailed a finger through the silky hair under my palm, imagining the many nights ahead in Captain Sparrow’s service. A pirate’s life for me, indeed.
- 1
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The Stowaway; part 1