Bound to the Mast

By Miranda Burns

Mary Rose is a dockside whore fleeing a vengeful lover. When she accidentally stows away aboard a ship, she finds herself facing down a crew of angry pirates.

The captain thinks she's a fine prize, but to keep her to himself would invite a mutiny.

How is a girl to pay her fare? The best way Mary knows how.

How many of them can she take on at once? How much pleasure can one woman endure? Find out what happens when Mary is Bound to the Mast!

Bound to the Mast is a MFM gang erotic short.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Miranda Burns
• Release date: Apr 9, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370205585

Miranda Burns

Miranda Burns is a woman of low moral fiber who loves men, lots of men, women, lots of women, and the intermingling of the lot in as many fun positions and predilections as she can dream up. She loves craft cocktails, fine dining, time spent with friends who love her for her dirty mind, and her demonic pain-in-the-ass of a cat.

Book preview

Mary Rose

So here I am, sucking a sailor’s cock in an alley. It’s an unremarkable cock attached to an unremarkable sailor, but I’m putting my all into it, like I do. He seems to be having a grand time of it, at least. As I stroke his shaft with my tongue and pump it with my lips, he moans and grips the damp stone of the wall beside us. His other hand grips my head, shoving his cock deeper down my throat. I haven’t had a gag reflex since I was eighteen, so I pay it no mind. Finally, he gasps and heaves and the spunk spills, dripping from my mouth as I gulp it up. I wipe the rest off with the back of my hand. 

He grins down at me and tosses me a handful of coin. Some of it goes down the bodice of my dress. I pluck them out, then count it with a practiced eye. He’s thrown in a rare tip. I give him a rare smile.

Pleasure doing business with you, sir! I call as he buttons up his grimy white canvas pants and strides out of the alley to rejoin his mates at the pub. I stand and dusted the grime of the alley off my skirts. No matter what I do, some always remains. A smudge of mud here, a bit of something more foul there. Good thing it’s a brown dress, else I’d have no custom at all. 

Honestly, though, it’s the contents of the dress that draw the customers in. I’m a fine catch for a dockside whore. Long black hair, sea green eyes, full lips. Breasts like lush melons that spill out of my bodice in a tempting fashion. A trim waist, round hips, and a plush backside perfect for pounding into. I even have all my teeth, and they’re straight and white— a novelty, in this part of town.

I give my sailor a few minutes to settle back in with his crew, then rejoin the pub myself. I need a pint to wash the