The deck of the *Siren's Revenge* was slick with seawater, spit, and the fresh, shameful puddles of Amelia’s squirt. Lieutenant Commander Amelia Voss lay gasping on her side, wrists still bound tightly behind her back, her once-crisp naval uniform in tatters. Her white shirt was soaked transparent, clinging to her heaving breasts, n*****s stiff and aching. Her trousers were long gone, and her smooth, puffy p***y glistened openly, dark with her own girl-c*m. The strong scent of her forced orgasms hung thick in the salty air.
Captain Isolde “The Siren” Blackthorn stood over her like a conquering goddess, her massive futa c**k still rock-hard and glistening with thick strings of Amelia’s throat slime. She slowly stroked the veined length, smearing the mess over the fat head as she looked dow
