Born to Serve - 06
#7 of Born to Serve (Unfinished)
The sun shone into the eyes of a young woman who moaned like a petulant child at the thought of rising. It took a moment for her to realize that the world was not going to stop swaying and it took another few moments to remember why. It was a challenge to fumble through her morning routine without the proper materials, but she managed the most important parts of it.
Some serious digging through Joseph's belongings turned up a smaller tunic and breeches that she knew were not his ... but they were almost exactly her size, so she put them on and decided to ask questions later. Some stockings pulled a little higher than she was used to but her travel shoes still went well with the outfit. The pistol straps which hung upon the wall were adjustable and she also found a sword belt that she pulled taught over her narrow waist. The rapier was something she had no training in but she had been taught the finer parts of pistols and daggers ... so she covered her outfit with as many of them as she could manage.
The convenient mirror told her that she looked a little like a long haired swashbuckler, though her silky black hair and lack of scars proved the image to be completely fake. A tiny giggle finished with a gurgle of her stomach ... thus, she slid back the bolt and opened her door.
"The Lady's up, sir," one of the sailors called to the deck above them in the comfortable tones of Spanish. Maya blinked in surprise. The previous day they had all been speaking Greek ... and she wondered to herself if they had all been faking it in an effort to throw off the local authorities.
"Very good, lad," Joseph's voice said in equally comfortable Spanish. "Officer of the deck!"
"Yes, sir?"
"Take over!" There was a slight wobble as the ship's wheel was handed to another and a moment later a set of heavy boots descended the stairs. "Good morning, my lady," Joseph said in Italian, with a polite inclination of his head, "did you sleep well?"
"Si," she replied ... idly wondering if she should continue in Italian or Spanish.
"Which language is more comfortable for you?" he whispered in Italian once more.
"Either is fine," she replied in Spanish, the old language flowing easily off of her tongue. "I am hungry."
"Ah," the man said with a knowing grin, "well we can't have our princess going hungry now, can we?" With a sharp whistle he called a pair who ducked into a side room and came out with a plate and a mug. A slice of hard bread and an orange with a grog ration were handed over to her and she raised a brow as she took them. "Fear not, sweet princess, they are not drugged as you fear. Let me know when you are ready to receive customers."
Maya glared at him a moment as she worked to remember the details of the previous night. Then she sighed, took a few steps backward, and kicked the door closed. She did not bother to lock it this time as she soaked the hard bread in her grog ration. She then ate half of the orange, crunched into the barely edible Hard Tack, and then washed the foul flavors down with the other half of the orange.
Once she was certain they were not going to come back up, she rinsed her hands in a bucket of water, wiped her face, checked the mirror, and then stepped out. From there she traveled down the stairs to the first level. Along the sides were a total of six cannon, hooks where sailors could hang their hammocks, and three long tables that were still covered in crumbs. A handful of men stared anxiously at her and she sighed.
"Clean that table," she ordered and they jumped to obey her commands. The attendants were also her first customers and when she was finally satisfied with the job, she had each man bring out the hammock which he slept in to lay across the table. "I will need a half-hour glass," she told the man who was last in line, and he took off to retrieve the devise.
"Strip," she told the first man, and he enthusiastically tore out of his tunic and breaches. He then flexed and his comrades gave him a good laugh. Maya then soaked her rag in the bucket of saltwater and began to rub off the filth which the morning's labor had left on his skin. The man sighed with delight at each of her movements and became hard within moments. She ignored it until she finished her cleaning job, then paused to look at his compliment and grinned up into his eyes with an amused expression.
"Been awhile since a woman has touched you?" she asked and the man flushed as his companions doubled over with laughter. One of the other men made a crude comment about how this man was with one of the women in the hold just the previous night ... he was just like this. Maya had mixed emotions about the statement, but he made a show of leaning down to kiss the top of the man's lust, which caused it to twitch to a painful looking height. The man's face became terribly red from that but she only giggled and ordered him onto the table.
Once he was face down, Maya climbed on top of his back, straddled him, and then turned over the hour glass. As with every other man whom she had performed upon, the sailor groaned in unmistakable surprise and relief at her touch. The back of every man was strong, knotted, and filled with the stresses and strains of working men. Occasionally, one of the men would achieve the unmistakable crescendo of release and then shutter for a moment. Maya would then help the poor soul come down by breathing on his neck and whispering something into his ear. He would then clean up with the water and use the hammock as a rag while Maya to recovered and cleaned.
When the last gain of sand fell, her final patron shuttered in release ... and then was suddenly surrounded by the call to dinner. Maya cursed and ranted at the men until they fled back up to the top deck. Her final patron was then able to clean himself properly and the table was set aside.
Maya ascended the stairs and stared at all of the men whom were assembled around her with hungry eyes. A moment of uncertainty passed and then she recognized the body language. "The table I'm using for you all is not to have food upon it. Also, those who have sprawled upon its surface are to scrub it thoroughly before I use it again."
"Ma'am!" the men whom she had serviced all said in unison.
Then Maya stood away from the opening and said, "Go." An explosion of movement erupted and they poured into the galley below with the excitement of children being let out of school. She watched after them for a moment and listened to the laughter and excitement as they set to their tasks. A familiar presence stepped up next to her as she stood there and she let out a tired breath. "Are all of your men so obedient?"
"Only in the presence of a lady," Joseph told her with a warm smile on his face.
"What about Elizabeth and Natasa?" she asked him coldly.
"Oh ... the men worship them," Joseph said with a grin.
"You mean you drug them and then rape them," Maya said sharply, her outrage causing her to tremble slightly.
"Ah, princess," the man said as if she were a pouting child, "they are not the victims you perceive them to be. Their treatment is merely an oddity which they insist upon."
"I find it hard to believe that they would want to live in a small room that requires them to sleep in filthy rags, use a public chamber pot, and then be drugged into a delirious nightly orgy!" Maya's chest heaved in anger and it took a moment for her to realize that her fists were knuckle-white around a pair of daggers. She glared hard into the eyes of her captor and his scheming mind churned behind sparkling eyes.
"The princess wanted a fully ... authentic experience," the man finally told her. Maya scoffed at him but she was too tired and hungry from her day to keep up the fight. "If you are hungry, you may go to the head of the line, if you wish."
"Pass," Maya huffed as she turned to the bow of the ship. "Come get me once the line is down."