Fire and Frost: a Tale of Vengance

The journey was arduous, it always was, and that was good. Had the trip to Outcast Isle been an easy one the navies of the world would have surely come crashing down upon it in an instant, should they find it. As it was, the few scout ships that did manage to come across the pirate haven soon found themselves at the bottom of the seas, crew devoured by sharks, drowned in the water like rats, or taken captive by the island’s inhabitants. Those of the first two categories were the lucky ones.

Random and violent, ever-shifting, winds; treacherous rocks, reefs, and shoals, invisible just beneath the murky depths; two massive, ever-whirling whirlpools, each spanning nearly a mile across; even a rumored monster or two and many more dangers lay in wait for anyone who tried to gain access to Outcast Isle.

Getting through the dangers and to the safe havens was a nightmare even for seasoned sailors. It was nothing short of impossible for anyone without the knowledge of where to go, what channel between steep, crumbling cliffs, to take and when.

But lucky for Captain Powder Burn, he was no newcomer to the treacherous waters.

“Keep her steady there, Mr. Withers!” Powder Burn called out to the pony at the helm, eyeing the frenzied activity upon the deck. One slip up, one wrong move, and the pirate knew his ship and crew would join the others at the bottom of these waters.

“Steady, Cap’n!” Mr. Withers confirmed.

His glaring, spark-orange eyes alit to the slackless sails above him, a frown piercing through his snarly, black beard.

“Mr. Loose! I thought I told you to keep the sails at twenty degrees! Get them back!” Powder Burn snarled.

“Aye, Cap! Sorry, Cap!” a pegasus called back, relaying orders to his fellow sailmasters who quickly made the proper adjustments, loosening and reigning in lines to adjust the sails.

The Sacrilegious Saint, a hulking galleon of a warship, skimmed past another one of the many tower-like slate structures littering the seas around Outcast isle. Steep as walls and moss-ridden, the sheer mass of them prevented any straight approach to Outcast isle. Small pieces could be seen shearing off at times and splashing down into the water like chunks of ice from a glacier.

Rounding the structure, previously blocked sunlight spilled across the deck, forcing any not wearing hats to squint against the glaring light.

“Keep her close to the rock, Mr. Withers! Almost there!” Powder Burn called again, trotting back towards the stern, “Through the final two and we’re home free, you know the drill!”

“Aye, Cap’n!” Withers called back, turning the wheel.

The ship heeled well to the commands of the wheel, hugging the side of the slate tower. Powder Burn, heading up to the aftcastle, cast a glance to the murky waters below. Barely concealed by the waters a sharp reef lay in wait for any ship who’s captain was an alien to these waters. A mere ten yards to port and they’d find themselves taking on water with their hull shredded and smashed.

But veterans of these waters, the Sacrilegious Saint’s crew kept a steady course, plowing through a gap between two more slate towers and hitting the deeper waters surrounding their destination.

A final, massive, hulking cliff of even more jet-black slate, resting in the water, sat before them. The steep walls jutting thousands of feet into the air, shrouded in wayward mists blown about by unpredictable winds.

Steep and unscalable, there was a single slitted crevasse in the otherwise impenetrable wall. Just large enough for a couple of ships to pass through and not trade splinters. It was the only way to get into or out of Outcast isle besides flight, and vicious, swirling winds berating the top of the cliffs made that nearly impossible.

Guided by her crew, the Sacrilegious Saint made its quick way through the gap, the cliffs shooting outwards and bending inwards to form a crescent if viewed from above, earning Crescent Cove its name. A sandy island nestled in the middle of the circle of slate walls made up the closed side of the crescent, palms and moldy docks littering the shoreline. Further up the beach lay wooden buildings crowded with the small figures of ponies, smoke trailing upwards from the ones with chimneys.

In the waters before the island, a motley handful of ships lay anchored, bobbing gently in the waters with their broadsides facing towards the far end of the cove.

Brining his spyglass to bear, Powder Burn noted as gun ports were shut, cannons pulled back as their gun crews went back to business upon confirming his ship’s identity. Should any ship not bearing a pirate flag find their way into the cove, they would certainly be hard pressed to leave it in anything but shattered timbers.

Breathing only the slightest breath of relief, Powder Burn slipped the spyglass back into his hammerspace, “Bring her to the normal spot, Mr. Withers! Port side to the cove!”

“Port side to the cove! Aye, cap’n!” Withers called back, steering the ship.

Home, sweet home, Powder Burn thought with a grin.

<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>

Burn gave the door a solid set of knocks. With a creak, it opened a sliver at first, then was drawn all the way open to reveal a pink-coated, green-maned unicorn mare with dark purple eyes. Her fur and mane seemed to shimmer lightly even in the dull light. She eyed the pirate up and down once, a smile growing upon her face.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite scourge of the seas,” she said with a seductress’ grin, stepping back to let him in, “get in here and strip.”

Burn obliged, trotting in and eyeing the room. Decorative shutters let in only the dullest of morning lights, a dying lantern and a few dripping candles lighting it a tad more. It looked to be a standard bedroom with a large, messy bed, faded privacy curtain, dresser, and an end table. A coat hanger stood guard over the door.

“So how’s business for you?” the prostitute inquired, trotting away towards a bed. She lifted her short tail, giving Burn a perfect glimpse of her slit and pucker as he removed his hat, setting it on the hat rack. A stirring began to grow in his loins at the sight.

“Good, got good hauls from the past few ships,” he replied, undoing his belt and hanging it with the hat, “You’ve kept the place clean, Squeaky,” he admired the room’s nigh-impeccable state.

“Just like my name,” Squeaky Clean replied, turning about and eyeing Burn once more, eyes lingering as he pulled off his shirt and hung it with the rest, “The usual, then?”

Burn nodded, now naked.

“Well then go get comfortable,” she smiled, gesturing to the bed, “Oh. And I’m experimenting with this new temporary lactation spell, wanna give it a shot? Free of charge...for now.”

“Well if it’s free,” he smiled back, giving her a quick peck on the cheek as he passed to the bed, “It’s for me.”

“Very well, then,” Clean replied, her horn glowing dully for a few seconds before fading.

Burn hopped onto the bed, laying down on his side facing Clean as she approached.

She pressed a kiss into his lips, her short tail kinking further up with arousal. He greeted her lips with his own, mouth meeting hers as he brought up a hoof to caress her flowing mane.

She drew a loving forehoof across his furry, barrel chest, across his solid stomach, and down to his slightly unsheathed member. She gave him a few slow strokes, teasing his kissing mouth with her tongue as she drew a few more inches out of him.

She then pulled away from the kiss, flashing a femme fatale-esque smile. She joined him atop the bedsheets, straddling him with her crotch over his face and his growing cock under hers.

“Shall we begin?” she asked with a light giggle, tail swishing once behind her, “Don’t forget to nibble.”

“You mean this?” Burn teased, lifting his head enough to nibble at one of her now-swollen teats nestled ‘tween her thighs. She gave a light gasp of surprise and ecstasy as a squirt of warm milk flooded Burn’s mouth. It was warm and thick with a light, fatty taste as it dribbled down Burn’s throat. He lifted a forehoof, nudging the other as he sucked daintily at the first.

“Mmm,” Clean moaned, enjoying the teat play for a moment longer before returning the favor.

Her lips met with the base of Burn’s fleshy girth in a small kiss, earning a shudder of delight from its owner and finally growing to a fully erect state. Drawing towards the tip, she planted a trail of smooches further up and up towards the flat head of his cock before she met dick-to-tongue, drawing her wet taste-organ down the entire length of his shaft. His legs bucked lightly at the treatment, as if trying to push himself further towards the source of his arousal.

Burn moaned into the teat he was nibbling on, teasing out another small squirt of warm milk and a quiet hum of delight from Clean. Her smile grew at the action, her teasing effective.

Done with the foreplay, Clean drew back once more and took him with her mouth. She played with the end of his shaft, rubbing its hard length against the sides and top of her mouth, all the while massaging the throbbing object with her tongue and sucking ever-so-gently.

“Mm,” Burn groaned, sucking harder at Clean’s teat, getting another warm mouthful of milk, some of it spilling out the side of his mouth and soiling the bedsheets below.

Casting another quick spell to help her breathe and numb her uvula, Clean began taking him further down her throat. She drew forwards and back, moving only her head and neck to let Burn keep nibbling at her teat. Her lips sealed tight around him, only small dribbles of drool escaping as she drew back and forth, pulling him slowly further towards an orgasm.

The sensation of constant motion made Burn let out another pleasurable moan, air-bucking as she kept up her treatment, her mouth curving slightly into a smile as she sucked harder and faster. Brining a hoof up, she cupped his fuzzy balls in the frog of her hoof, rubbing gently in time with her own suckling.

Burn let out another moan of joy as Clean seemed to grow faster in her movements and sucking in time with his nearing orgasmic edge, a tenseness in his loins demanding a growing release. He nibbled and kissed at her dripping teat with increased fervor, body growing tense to the incoming orgasm.

He bit down hard with a grunt as he came, spewing his warm seed down her throat. Clean continued her vacuum-tight seal around his member as the gush of pony-paste rushed down her throat, urging it on with occasional sucks and strokes.

Burn released her from his teeth, resigned to heavy panting as a tiredness overcame him. Keeping him in her mouth as his spewing turned into a trickle, Clean gave occasional sucks and tugs at Burn’s member, sending sparks of ecstasy through his orgasm-muddled mind.

He gave another low mumble of pleasure, hind legs relaxed to his sides as she rubbed gently at his balls, coaxing the last few spurts of him out. Finished, she released him from her lip’s grip, looking back over her withers with a flick of her flowing mane.

“Anything else tonight, Captain?” she inquired, rubbing him from the base of his hairy sheath to the tip of his fleshy dick with a gentle forehoof.

“Mm, no,” Burn mumbled, sated cock sliding back from whence it came. He scooted over, Clean stepping over him, and rolled onto his side, patting the bed, “Just stick with me a while,” he said, spark-orange eyes shut and a pleased smile shining through his beard.

Squeaky Clean smiled, turning about and lying down next to him with a smile, running a hoof through his tangled, messy mane as he drifted off to sleep.

<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>

“So what do I owe you this time?” Powder Burn asked, dressing as he prepared to leave.

“Fifty bits,” Clean replied, rolling over onto her side as she lay in the bed, watching him intently.

“Fifty, eh?” Burn asked with a small smile, reaching into his hammerspace and retrieving two moderately sized coin purses, “Plus a tip, that brings you to a hundred,” he replied, floating over the two bags with his magic.

Clean sighed with a roll of her eyes, “You don’t have to give me so much, Captain. Ten for the blowy and foreplay, forty more for the overnight cuddling,” she said, taking both bags anyways. She pocketed one in her own hammerspace, sending the other over to the dresser.

“What sort of prostitute refuses good coin from a client?” Burn asked, chuckling as he tightened his belt.

“For you?” Clean hopped out of the bed, trotting over and sliding his hat onto his head for him, he smiled back at her, “I’d do it for free and beg for seconds,” Clean said, sincerity in her smiling features as she gave him a quick kiss.

“And I’d still overpay you,” Burn replied with a chuckle, slipping his shirt back on, “you deserve it.”