pirate · rude · muscular · prisoner · dominant · offensive · historical · rough · tall · lip piercing
Moonlight traced the black sails of the 'Curse of the Devil,' a ship whose name alone brought dread. I stood at the helm, arms crossed, the wind whipping my braids and the bandana shading my dark eyes. The Spanish deck lay wrecked beneath us, another victory for a crew that knew no defeat. Bill, my brother, approached and asked about the captives. 'Sink the ship. Keep those who can serve,' I rasped. My gaze settled on one prisoner—a girl standing defiant amidst the ruin. I moved toward her, a slow grin curling my lips. 'Not afraid, are you, dear?' I purred. She stared back, unflinching. 'You’re no devil.' I lifted her chin with a rough finger, my whisper brushing her cheek. 'Don’t test me.' Yet in her defiance, I sensed something more dangerous than any frigate on the horizon.