When her wedding was rudely interrupted and her husband-to-be stolen away, Elizabeth Swann stowed away aboard a humble merchant ship to track him down no matter the cost. The untamed seas are a dangerous place however, and her journey to become a pirate and reclaim her beloved comes to an end on an unnamed island at the hands of ravenous cannibals. Elizabeth is spared her crewmates' fate, but her life will never be the same...
-o-o-o-
The salt of the sea air stung Elizabeth Swann’s eyes as she stood atop the verdant cliffs of an island with no name.
Perhaps it had once, perhaps it actually did still, but it wasn’t one she would ever know.
She took a step forwards towards the edge, bare feet tickled by the lush grass. A bark of warning sounded behind her, and her leash was pulled taught.
The coarse ropes of twisted fibres and vines squeezed against her bare flesh, scraping against her heaving bosom, constricting her slender waist, and binding her long, slender arms tightly behind her back. Worst was the gag, the wooden bit clenched between her teeth, lashed around her head and connected to all of her other restraints, and to the leash held in her ‘keeper’s’ fist.
She grunted wordlessly, staggering back and feeling equally coarse and calloused hands clap against her milky skin.
Elizabeth hadn’t been planning on doing anything foolish, even in her current ignoble existence she kept some remaining hope of rescue alive. She’d been stranded on a deserted island alone before, but this jungle archipelago was far from deserted, and if her ship had landed on it’s shores, another would one day.
Her life as the daughter of a governor seemed so far away now, all the luxury and comforts a distant memory. Instead of silks and sugar she had dried leaves and sour fruit. Instead of prim and proper civilised living, her existence was rough and primal and savage.
Like her tribe.
She had been searching for Will, on some romantic mission to reunite with her husband-to-be, when the captain of the ship she had stowed away upon had landed to rewater and stretch the crew’s legs. In the disguise of just another boy amongst the crew, Elizabeth had gone ashore as well, and watched as all of the innocent seamen she had spent the past week amongst were massacred, scavenged, and devoured.
The island was not deserted, and it’s mistresses brokered no intrusion on their kingdom.
Elizabeth’s lungs had burned as she sprinted through the jungle, her hair blown free by the rush of her desperate escape. Her chest had heaved, her clothes had been ripped and torn by catching branches and by her scrambles across rock and fallen timber, and by the time she collapsed, splashing into a small pool barely larger than a bathtub, she had been utterly dishevelled.
It was the only thing that had saved her.
As the native women of the islands emerged from the trees like they were stepping from the bark itself, they had seen not another unwelcome man, but a scratched, bruised, but still lovely woman barely covered by the rags of her ruined clothes.
It had given them pause long enough to spare Elizabeth from her shipmate’s fate. As she had stood in the water with her back to a vine-covered shelf of earth, defenceless and breathless, one of the hunting party had waded towards her, spear in hand.
Elizabeth still remembered the terror as the vicious stone blade was held against her chin, and the hunter’s deep brown eyes looked her over from head to toe. Calloused fingers had tangled in her honey-brown hair curiously, had stroked her cheek, and then torn the ripped and soaking remains of her shirt apart.
The hunters had cooed approvingly as Elizabeth’s bountiful breasts bounced into the humid air, chuckling amongst themselves as they closed in around the tiny pool as Elizabeth’s trousers were yanked down her lovely legs and tossed aside, leaving her in nothing but a water-logged pair of breeches she had stolen.
Her body was completely opposite to the native hunters’. Her skin was soft and pale, not dark and tough from jungle living. Her hair was long and lush, not coarse and braided, or shorn to the roots. She was tall and slender, they were all at least a head shorter than her, and far… thicker.
Muscled arms and legs moved with terrifying speed and power, broad, powerful hips supported thick brown thighs and gigantic jiggling asses. Plump ebony udders the size of melons swung heavily as the hunters closed in, round and soft and each capped with a thick brown nipple, almost all pierced with some kind of animal tooth or talon. Elizabeth was by no means unwomanly, but these island hunters’ curves put her to shame, glistening with sweat in the warm jungle sun. The only thing they wore were woven sandals, necklaces and bangles, talismans and trophies dangling from their curves, all smeared with vibrant yellow and deep green paint.
The hunters laughed as they held her at spearpoint, perhaps mocking the pale skinny woman at their mercy, until one moved behind her and tore her breeches down to her ankles.
The sounds the hunters made then were anything but mocking.
Elizabeth’s cheeks turned red with the memory of the embarrassment. Not even Will had known about her… condition, about the fact that she had something no other woman did, something that would put him, like any other man she’d ever met, to shame.
A calloused brown hand squeezed around the foot-long python of a cock bobbing between Elizabeth’s thighs.
She hissed through her gag, scowling at the young hunter who had taken her out for her walk, and was now teasingly stroking her palm up and down Elizabeth’s bitchbreaking monstercock.
The dick that had saved her.
If she’d just been a woman the hunters would have had their fun mocking the differences between her and their voluptuous, powerful islander forms, and then given her the same fate as the men. Instead, once they’d seen her cock, they had begun to coo and chatter and chant, removing their spears and beginning to paw over Elizabeth’s body from head to toe.
They had dragged her inland and uphill to their village, naked and held tight in their brown fists, and it was only when Elizabeth had been brough to the centre of their humble home she had understood what her fate was to be.
Another woman was tied to a throne, her wrists and ankles lashed to it’s wooden frame, her mouth split by a wooden gag. She was older, but beautiful, pale and lean. Her hair was grey and her eyes were sad, and as she looked Elizabeth up and down her expression was pitying… and thankful. Between her legs, a gigantic white cock bobbed, ringed with paint and adorned with talismans and tokens, and the buxom women of the island had grinned excitedly as they saw Elizabeth’s new, fresh, and most importantly bigger cock.
Elizabeth wondered what the woman’s name had been, before she’d come to the island, before they had tied her down and used her as they now used Elizabeth. Before Elizabeth had come, and whoever she had been was no longer needed.
“Mmhhhnnnn.” Elizabeth moaned as the islander pawing her cock squeezed her shaft and laughed as it jumped in her grip.
She smiled and cooed something, squeezing Elizabeth hard enough to make her knees quake, before gently releasing her and tugging on her leash.
Elizabeth sighed resignedly through her gag as she followed her mistress, stepping away from the cliff edge towards the jungle edge. With a grunt, she was shoved back against a tree, the hard bark biting into her shoulders, as the hunter squatted down and spread her thick brown thighs wide.
The scent of islander pussy met Elizabeth’s nose and her cock throbbed treacherously. It knew what she desperately tried to deny, she loved the sensation of cannibal cunt squeezing her cock. Even as Elizabeth desperately tried to retain her sanity and her dignity and her well-trained manners, her body learned to pulse and throb and hunger insatiably for thick brown lips, soft brown tits, and silky, soaking, savage cunts.
“Hmmhwhha.” Elizabeth gasped as the hunter squeezed her gigantic painted udders around her shaft, her cock standing out from the titanic shelf of tit like a marble pillar nestled between two warm brown hills.
With soft, meaty claps, the hunter began to use her breasts to stroke Elizabeth, rocking on the balls of her feet and grinning as she watched her stud squirm. If the islander had any affection for Elizabeth beyond adoring her gigantic alabaster cock, she didn’t show it more than any of the other tribeswomen who were among Elizabeth’s many lovers.
As a woman who had seen pitched battle on the high seas and souls beset by a curse more terrible than most men and women could ever imagine, Elizabeth had known fear and helplessness, but somehow her perverted imprisonment was different.
Elizabeth Swann wasn’t a governor’s daughter, or a pirate, or an adventurer anymore, she was a cock with a woman attached, leashed and used like a toy by the dozens of cannibal women who only wanted her for one thing: breeding.
And shamefully, she didn't fully mind.
The hunter laughed and rocked her tits faster and faster, slapping Elizabeth’s hips with her breasts and smearing yellow paint over her creamy skin. She knew what she wanted, and she knew Elizabeth was helpless to resist giving it to her. She licked her lips and sunk her mouth over her stud’s head, dark cheeks pulling concave as she sucked and slurped and swirled her tongue to stifled sobs of pleasure.
“Nnnhhh!” was all Elizabeth could groan, her teeth biting into the familiar grooves and dents they had long-since carved into her gag, as her balls twitched and the cannibal sucking her cock gurgled with satisfaction.
Rope after rope of thick white seed gushed into the ravenous maw of the girl, loudly gulped and swallowed down, before she pulled away and displayed her clean tongue for Elizabeth with a guttural cackle.
Elizabeth wished the sight hadn’t made her cock ache all the more.
Maybe it was some strange magic of the island, maybe it was the fruit she was fed for each meal, or maybe it was some secret depraved part of Elizabeth that had laid dormant all her life, but she couldn’t get enough of these cannibal sluts’ bodies.
She was as insatiable as they were, her cock always hard, her balls always full, and although she wished she didn’t, every second she wasn’t buried inside one of her keepers, she wished she was.
The hunter licked her lips and gave Elizabeth’s cock a loving cleaning with her tongue, before straightening up and presenting her gigantic painted backside.
Elizabeth groaned with shameful need, as the cannibal began to shake and bounce her hips, making her obscenely thick ass clap and quake in a primal mating dance. The hunter swung her hips back, beating Elizabeth’s sticky dick with her cheeks, before grabbing her shaft tight and backing herself onto her cock.
Elizabeth squeezed her eyes closed with a husky moan of bliss, her cock singing with delight as it was returned to one of its favourite places; the sopping silky embrace of a cannibal cunt.
In an instant the fleshy drumbeat of ‘wop wop wop wop!’ filled the air, gigantic brown cheeks clapping back against Elizabeth’s hips as the cannibal swallowed up every last inch of her monstrous dick into her insatiable pussy.
Like it always did, the drumbeat carried through the jungle, and its summons were heard. Low chuckles and sultry words spoken in a language Elizabeth would never understand began to join the clapping cacophony.
More cannibals emerged from the shadow of the jungle, more ravenous mouths, more gigantic painted tits, more slathering brown pussies.
Elizabeth quaked as hands slid over her bound and helpless body, teasing her breasts, pawing her svelte stomach, squeezing her jaw and tracing her lovely cheekbones. She felt huge brown breasts squish against her, smearing paint onto her skin. She felt wet, slimy tongues lick her arms, yellowed teeth nibble her throat, thick, sticky lips press hungrily to every inch of her body she had once held sacred.
She felt full, pregnant bellies filled with her own daughters rub eagerly against her, waiting to be filled with her seed again and again and again. Those poor daughters, who would be raised to be remorseless, ravenous, man-eating monsters just like their mothers, who would ensnare their own stud and begin the cycle anew, or god forbid, continue it with Elizabeth herself.
Elizabeth Swann moaned into her gag as she felt her sperm rush into the fertile womb of yet another cannibal cunt.
If this island had a name she would never speak it, and yet she knew it was home.
If these people had a name she would never know it, but she knew as she felt them slobber her cock clean they were her family.
No matter how long she lived, or how many cannibals she bred, she would always daydream about the life she might have lived far away.
But that was just a dream now.
This was her life now, a bound breeding beast for voluptuous cannibalistic island whores.
And god forgive her, it felt so good...