The seamen gathered on the rails of the ship watched as the slaves bound for the new colonies were unloaded from the horse-drawn wagons. There were three wagons and each of them disgorged more than thirty naked children from their cramped, iron barred confines. Each one of the little ones, no matter what their age or gender, had their hands bound behind them with a leather thong and heavy iron chains fastened at their ankles. They stumbled out one by one on to the rough cobbles of the dock and were being herded by gruff men into a ragged line.

The naked captives were aged between 8 and 13 at most, and the preponderance were shivering females. It was sight that pleased the crew if only for the delight of seeing so many naked young females and already wagers were being struck as to their exact number as well as the expected one about emerging breasts. The subject of most wagers was to which one of these girls boasted the biggest tits and the seamen called between themselves who they had seen and how much they were willing to risk as the girls staggered out one after another, unsure on their feet after many hours locked in the carts bouncing over rutted roads. With their hands bound behind them the girls offered a clear view of their fronts, and their lack of pubic hair and mostly flat chests were interesting for the crew but they were looking for 'young tit' as they called it.

The slaves stared up at the ship tethered at the quayside, and most of all the huge masts and beams and yardarms that looked like a forest strung between with ropes. They would, unless they had been born in a port like this, never have seen such a thing and many looked frightened and tearful, as well they might be at what lay ahead. They saw the leering men and heard their ribald comments as to what would happen to them. Some, either afraid of the sea or what lay ahead at the hands of the crew, were sobbing after their long journey from the provinces. All told there were seventy one girls and twenty two boys, and a good few of their number - the ones who hadn't the sense to keep quiet on their journey - were gagged with leather bits bound tightly in their mouths. Many of them, both boys and girls, had fronts that glistened with snot and saliva from their drooling and crying and plenty of them had red stripes on their arms and legs and even on their buttocks where some eager slave-handler had lashed them to ensure full co-operation. Curiously, several of the boys had some stage of erection as if they secretly enjoyed this, or more likely had been pressed up against a helpless girl's rear.

The sight of erect small cocks jutting up brought laughter from the watching crew and the boy's faces turned crimson in shame. But they were still herded forward.

Male or female, aroused or not, they had learned to co-operate. No doubt about it, but they were still lashed by the men who accompanied them. Exercising the whip arm, it was called, and much exercising had to take place even if the handlers mostly used knotted rope that didn't draw blood but still left marks.

The slaves were being shepherded towards the great ship, the Temperance, lying in wait. As this sea-going monster bobbed slightly at its moorings the creaking of its well-seasoned timbers and the squawking of gulls hoping for some throw-away food now had the rivalry of the slave drivers urging the hesitant unfortunates on and the rattle of so many heavy ankle chains, clanking over the cobbles.

They were heavy chains too. Cast iron chains that wouldn't rust away in even the longest exposure to the salt air and the cuffs riveted together at their ankles. Short chains of just three or four links, partly to save iron and partly to prevent even the most athletic of the children trying to run (though they would understand there was nowhere to run to, even if they could) and taking into account that the weight of too much iron on the legs of the youngest was almost too much for them to bear. But bear it they would have to, because there was no kindness here. Their destiny was the colonies and who knew what once they were auctioned.

Perhaps the mass of children knew what lay ahead, or more likely they feared what they didn't know. This huge ship, filled with leering men and beyond it all the vast ocean. Whatever happened they would be leaving this country for good, and they would never see home again. Despite being beaten by their handlers the children were reluctant to commit themselves to the the ship. That they were slaves they had no doubt, but it was what lay ahead that worried them. They milled around, resisting efforts to get them on board. It was at that moment that one person - a girl - stepped forward to lead them. The pack stared at her for a moment and then followed as if glad someone had taken the initiative and they could escape the blows of the minders.

So it was that the first person at the gangplank leading up to the Temperance wasn't one of the sobbing, snivelling mass behind her, but a proud and surprisingly tall girl with red hair with emerging signs of young breasts. She, unlike many of the others, wasn't bit-gagged though her body showed plenty of bruises and red stripes from beatings. The female could have been no more than 11 but she gave every appearance of being a leader.

The sort of thing that would trouble any sensible Captain, and so it occurred to Jim Matthews, the master of the Temperance for these past seven years as he watched from the bridge rail. He knew full well that any group, be they paying passengers or press-ganged seafarers or even mercenaries hired to provide fighting strength to the ship would have a leader. Someone they looked up to and would follow, despite their grumbles. Probably a natural leader, who would take charge if no one was elected to the post.

This girl was walking as fast as she could despite her ankle chains and looking round, not so much in a sense of wonder or fear but one of curiosity as if the more she saw the more she could understand. A look that said the more she knew the more she could plot or gain, and as such she was a potential problem to the captain. He had seen this sort of thing before.

Matthews scratched the stubbly beard he sported and made a decision.

"Mister Mate," Matthews called to one of his senior crew members, a man called Jonathan Mate who deserved the job not just for his fortunate name but for many reasons, not least of which was reliability. "I would have the red-head in my cabin and not with the others."

"Aye captain." A simple enough response, and carefully avoiding any hint that the captain wanted his own way with the girl. While other sailors might exchange a glance that would suggest the master of the ship had first call on fucking the young woman, they wouldn't say it. It was the unspoken rule of a slave trader that the girls were not to be fucked. A pregnant slave girl, very visibly by the time they arrived in the colonies, would mean a loss of earnings and the gods of the sea alone could stir up many a foul wind or storm which would delay them enough to make their payment suffer without the help of a spoonful or two of semen. Ninety odd slaves, if they all survived - and chances are some wouldn't with disease or malnourishment or even plain fear - meant the prospects of a good financial return would be slim at best.

The object was to make money from this journey and that meant getting the slaves, however tempting it was to have sex with them, to harbour safely and quickly. Female slaves were very much off limit though the younger of the males may, as every seagoing man knew, be surreptitiously buggered. As there were so few males in the consignment there would be much debate among the crew (and no little wagering) who might get to satisfy their lust if the watch wasn't looking and the slave cages happened to be left open...

Jim Matthews had no such concern about that. His priority was a trouble-free voyage that routinely took them to the edge of starvation, past icebergs and all the while at the risk of pirates. All he had to do was separate the leader from the rabble and chances were the rest would go docilely into their chains in the slave cages below.

"And Mister Mate," Matthews called out after a moment's consideration. "Be so good as to have a bit gag ready for her in case the bitch turns foul-mouthed and argues. I want a peaceful voyage."

--

Matthews sat back in his captain's chair in the cabin that fulfilled the functions of his quarters, the mess room for paying passengers and in times of battle offered the surgeon's table. The large table that dominated the cabin was stained dark brown either from the blood of wounded sailors or spilt beef gravy, when available. They would have that for the first four weeks of the journey. After that the standard hard tack biscuits would leave no stains, though at least Matthews wisely kept a good stock of wine to make the damned biscuits easier to swallow.

The ship was making good headway out of the harbour and the captain could trust his navigator and efficient crew to take control of the wheel and the sails. The winds were light but steady and the tide favourable. Only a slight swell would make anyone think they were at sea, though a few gulls who had hopefully followed the Temperance out reminded them they were still in sight of land.

Matthews though was contemplating what to say to the red-head who stood at the far end of the cabin with her hands locked in the manacles above her head. She was, as he wanted, bit-gagged and she stared at the captain at the other end of the long, dark brown table. The girl, he had to concede, was attractive but she had that hint of defiance in her green eyes and he was unsure how to begin this lecture. He would, normally, have told the girl quite simply that she was a slave and all slaves could and would be disciplined. It was, indeed, the duty of the ship's master to ensure complete order on the ship. It was hard enough going to sea without rebellion and mutiny or even danger from the cargo or trouble from the passengers. Even more so if there were slaves involved. Youth didn't matter either, for a young girl could be as much trouble as a muscular black man or mad older woman.

But this girl was different. With a sigh Matthews got up from his chair, picked up the knotted rope lying by his hand and walked to the front of the young female. To her credit she didn't cower or look afraid. She stood her ground and silently watched him. Matthews was impressed, and he swung the rope in her line of vision in the hope that look of defiance, or perhaps one of awkwardness, would fall from her face. It didn't. She made no whimpering noise, and none at all when the captain slammed the rope inches from her red-hair, against the bulkhead. She regarded him without animosity or fear.

The way the girl was stood with hands secured above her head made her breasts flatten, but she had large and inviting nipples and Matthews took one in his free hand and pinched it. The girl made the slightest movement but she didn't wince or groan or even cry. She had her eyes on his and he was sure if she wasn't gagged he would see her smile.

"I don't like you, girl," he said as twisted her nipple a little more. "But then I don't have to." A small creasing of the female's forehead suggested she found his treatment of her breast painful and the tiniest sound in her throat suggested that brave though she was, she might under the right treatment be made to scream. Yet Matthews didn't want to make her scream for a reason he could not yet comprehend. He was puzzled as much by himself as by this female. She was, he reckoned, about 18 years his junior, but then he was the youngest captain he knew of on the high seas.

She was, after all, just another girl destined for slave duties in the colonies. She would fetch a good price he was sure, though the vagaries of the market place governed as always by the economy of the new lands and especially by whether another slave ship docked before them, would ensure there was no guarantee. Still, if she lived and behaved there was every reason she would bring a pretty penny. But behaviour was they key here. No one bought slaves who had been freshly whipped. That suggested they were troublesome and while many plantation owners and factory owners had no compunction about beating their own slaves it was a well-known fact that fresh marks lowered the sale price.

Good teeth and unmarked flesh, they said in the auctions. And nice tits to go with strong legs.

"You're a bold girl," said Matthews, letting go of the girl's nipple. "I hope your boldness does not land you in trouble." At this point he might routinely beat the potential troublemaker, though it would be advisable to do it on the deck with the slaves assembled as a warning to them all. Indeed, doing it when they were out of sight of land had the double benefit of scaring the slaves with the expanse of the ocean (and the sure knowledge if the ship sank their chains would drag them to a watery grave) and impressing on them the battered and bloodied figure hanging by his or her wrists from a yardarm would be their fate too. Some captains, Matthews knew, would hang a potential slave leader for no reason at all as a warning, but he regarded such people as poor captains and even worse businessmen. It was not his way.

Still, the girl troubled him, and he was unsure why. She stood, wrists attached to the manacles above her head, naked and with feet as far apart as her short ankle chain would allow to better take the rolling of the ship. Her red hair was filthy, but that was to be expected, yet at some point someone had brushed it out as it was not especially tangled. Her skin was pale but that was often the lot of red-haired females, and she had freckles that would probably stay with her for all her life. Her small breasts however suggested womanhood was on its way and her hips were flaring nicely. More, there was a light fuzz of hair at her sex and the immature folds of her cunt were obvious. It would, he reflected, be easy to fuck her there and then and the bit gag in her mouth would keep from alerting the crew. But then no one would come to her aid.

If the master of the good ship Temperance wanted to fuck a slave and she fell pregnant, then the cost would be born by them all. No one however would object. This was his cabin and it was his ship.

But he wouldn't fuck her, though his cock stiffened in his pants at the thought. She knew it too because she looked down and saw the bulge there and knew enough of life that a man so aroused could and would use his tool for his own pleasure if not for hers. Those thoughts ran through Matthews mind like a razor. She knew of sex, and perhaps she wasn't a virgin.

"Are you?" he asked seizing her hair. It was as if he was angry that she had betrayed him by letting another man into her before him. "Are you a maiden? Or have you been fucked?"

The gagged girl held her eyes on his but gave no sound, made no sign. In frustration Matthews hit her with the rope still in his hand. It was a cowardly blow and he felt a terrible anger at himself. This was a slave girl and whether a virgin or not she was destined for a slave auction thousands of miles away. Matthews would watch her and the other slaves on his ship, eventually watching them march away in chains and wait for his agent in the port to tell him what they had fetched at auction. An honest man, for all his mean ways, and the reckoning would be true. The way Matthews had cut the man's ear off two years before ensured the agent's loyalty.

The red-haired girl flinched as she was hit but though tears formed in her eyes (she had been of course unable to defend herself) she did not cry. She kept her green eyes on the man and if anything a look of sympathy passed across them. It was as if she was sorry for the man's weakness.

Matthews tossed the rope on to the table behind him. "There should be no need for beating you," he said gruffly, but that was merely to hide his shame. He had beaten slaves before. Younger than this one and doing so had not troubled him. He had buggered boy slaves and even fucked a young girl who was unlikely to bear a child. But he felt differently about this one.

The captain walked down the cabin and stood by the huge rear window at the stern, watching the the land behind them for a good ten minutes and the wake stretching back to wards it. Then with a sigh he went to the charts on his desk and made to measure their progress, but clearly troubled he put down his rule and came back to the manacled, silent girl.

"I will remove your gag," he said. "You will answer my questions. You will not scream or I swear I will cut your tongue out if you do. I am not a cruel man but I am the master of this craft. In return for answering my questions with civility and honesty I will spare you a beating. Or do you doubt that I can wield a whip?"

The girl shook her head, and Matthews felt glad that she could at least speak his language. He had secretly feared she was a capture from some foreign vessel and, being of no ransom value and of unknown origin, had been consigned to slavery. But she understood him, and he was relieved.

Without another word, he took the girl's gag out but left it round her neck, both as a reminder and because he didn't know where else to put it.

"My name is Captain Matthews of the good ship Temperance," he said. "In return I require your name."

The girl smiled. "Lady Marian Pensford, at your service, captain. Were I not so restrained I would curtsy as a lady should, so forgive my lack of manners."

Matthews blinked and took a half-step back. "A lady? You jest!"

"You require of me sir that I act in a civil fashion and tell the truth. As you have the power to do whatever you wish I can hardly resist, so it occurs to me the truth is the best for us both. I am the fourth born of the Pensford family, out of Sandbridge in the county of Dorset. My father is Lord Pensford, or was. He took a wager and the family home was offered. The wager was rash but apparently would have made him the richest man in the shire, or else consigned him to poverty and his family to slavery. What you see, sir, is the outcome of that gamble." She arched one of her thin eyebrows as if to say, you understand how men are.

"Ladies do not become slaves," Matthews said thickly. "Unless they are guilty of treason."

"No treason sir," said the girl. "Just a wager, lost and my fate decided by the Queen of Hearts of all things that fate could conspire."

The captain considered his next words and chewed his lip as he did so and even scratched his beard. He had never encountered anyone as assured as this before, and he was at a loss. In time he said: "Your fate is you are here as a slave. We sail for the new world. We do not turn the ship around, even if there has been some, ah, miscarriage of justice."

Marian shook her head. "I doubt whether a court would find any fault with the deal my father struck over the turn of a card. His opponent who profited so well from his risk was a lawyer and skilled in constructing contracts. He would know the way to make his fortune stick. In any event I would not want the ship to be turned from its course. I know nothing of the colonies but however harsh it will be better than the slave prison in which I was held."

Matthews grimaced. "You are confident for one so young. Easy with words, and almost forward with your ways."

"My father may not have been good at the card table, but he was excellent at teaching me and my sisters and brother how to behave, how to best communicate. We were taught to be polite and respect our elders. I imagine he would approve of me being clear and behaving as I do, though he may wince at the weight or iron on me."

"Hmmm... Where is your father now?"

"Dead, I am told. Suicide in the debtor's prison. My mother has been sold off as a common slave, as were my sisters and brother. I had hoped they might find their way to this ship so they too may start again, but sadly not." For the first time since she began talking fresh tears formed in Marian's eyes. She blinked them away.

"I don't know what you know of the colonies, but the winters are harsh and the summers overbearing. The natives are untrustworthy and most plantations fail and what factories there are subject to the cruelties of the market thousands of miles away. You will be fortunate to survive ten years, if you survive this passage."

"You would consign me to a watery grave, or have me executed for sport?"

Matthews was taken aback. "No, why should I? I am a businessman and your youth and standing would bring a good price at the auction, I am sure. It would be stupid to lose my best assets."

Marian nodded. "I am not the strongest here and I expect you do not know how robust my constitution. I would hope to survive, yes, and beyond that get through the remaining years of my life and not fall ill to some strange disease, nor be spitted on a savage's arrow or die in childbirth after my owner fucks me."

The captain snorted. "So you know the word fuck. You know what can happen."

Marian snorted. "I know men and women together make babies, whether the woman wants it or not. But I have not, as they say, been spitted on a man's cock yet. I presume, sir, you would wish to be the first."

Matthews put his hands on his hips and laughed. "You know that I could. You know that the sway of the ship would enable me better to thrust myself into you for a sailor knows the rhythm of his ship and the tides within him. But you have value and you have spirit. Nonetheless, I am a man..." he reached out and caressed one of Marian's small, emerging breasts. She didn't recoil, though against the bulkhead there was little room to retreat. With his other hand the captain felt between the girl's legs. She didn't flinch at that either as the man rubbed the immature mound. "Women get wet there, when they are ready to be fucked."

"So I hear, sir. I am not sure I have yet gained that ability."

Matthews grunted and brought his hand from the girl's soft cunt lips. He sniffed at it and she watched him. "Are you pleased by my moisture?" Marian asked, quietly.

Matthews grinned. "I am pleased by having you here chained up and ready for whatever I want."

Marian said nothing. Nor did she avert her gaze from his face.

"You know that there are ways to use a cunt like you, without the risk of a bawling child?"

Marian nodded. "My rear hole, what they call the arse, and my mouth. I understand men enjoy depositing themselves in the throat of a woman. I have seen it done at the slave prison; a woman on her knees, perhaps bound, perhaps with a rope round her neck, being stuffed and filled at mouth and rear." The girl gave the merest shrug. "If those men do it I don't see why you wouldn't."

An anger flared in Matthews and he hit her cheek with the flat of his hand. "Bitch! I am not like the scum who are jailers in some slave hell hole."

Tears dripped from Marian's cheeks, one of which was bright red from the blow. "I did not refuse you," said the girl in little more than a whisper.

Matthews gulped and felt ashamed. No, she hadn't refused him, and neither had she said he was a mere jailer. He had over-reacted and wanted to apologise, but thought better of it. He had a position to maintain. "You want me to call you lady and keep your here, and not have you thrown with the others in slave cages?" Yet he knew the answer: if the crew got wind that this was a lady she would be stuffed in mouth and arse and fucked too. The wagers on being the first to blood her little cunt would be too much. Even a 24 hour guard would not be enough guarantee. Matthews had heard of a mutiny where a girl reputed to be some foreign princess was the cause. Ten men hung when the navy caught up with the rebellious crew, a good captain dead and a pregnant girl lost. He wanted no such trouble on the Temperance.

"You will remain here in this cabin, with me. You will behave and I will do as I wish. You will, at times, be gagged because I like my women silent."

"And will I sleep standing up here, chained like this?"

"If I so choose, yes." Matthews grabbed the girl's breasts again, two hands this time. "I am the master of this ship and can do whatever I want with you. I can have you hung, drawn and quartered. I can have you flogged because I do not like the look of your face. I can fuck you as I wish in any place. Do you understand that I have the power of life and death over you?"

"I never doubted it, sir," said Marian. "I will not give you cause."

"Then what will you give me?" Matthews felt the girl's nipples hard in his palms, and he liked the feel of them.

"My loyalty, my submission, and my body. They are all yours." Then to Matthews utter astonishment she leaned forward and planted a kiss on the man's lips. A tender and urgent kiss that she kept until she needed to draw breath.

At that, Matthews seized the girl, turned her face to the wall, dragged her young hips out and having freed his rock hard cock from his breeches sank it between her bum cheeks and into that dark, tight hole. His weight was pressing the girl's upper body to the planking, squashing her breasts against the rough wood. But her hips were clear so he could better bumfuck the wench.

"Please," she gasped with her face against the rough wall, "the gag, sir. I beg you to give me something to bite on."

Matthews hauled the leather bit gag up into the girl's mouth and knotted it in place. She had something to bite on now and he pushed deeper into the girl's back passage. She wept, but he fancied there were sobs of delight among the howls of pain. The captain drilled her young bum deep and then pulled back, matching his thrusts to the swell of the waves, the sway of the Temperance. He pulled the girl's red hair so she was looking upwards and went harder and faster, feeling his cock ready to explode in her.

Then he came with a roar, and the girl moaned into her gag as he snorted with delight.

Matthews left the girl where she hung in her chains, but allowed her to turn and face the cabin. He had his duties to attend to on deck and Lady Marian would wait silently for him to return. But before he went, just show that life on a ship bound for the new world was not all pleasure, he beat her young breasts and belly with the knotted rope and ignored her struggles and muffled cries.

It never did for even a female who gave pleasure to get above her station. The crew would expect it, and it still gave his cock a thrill to hurt the young Lady Marian, even if he suspected she knew it too.