A couple of weeks passed like a delirious blur. From dawn till dusk and deep into the night, the rhythm of their ship was matched only by the rhythm of their bodies joining together. Art had taken to her new experiences with the same fierce determination that had marked her rise to leadership—studying, practicing, and mastering each new position and technique that Bobby introduced.
This morning, Art stood at the helm, her legs spread wide as Bobby knelt behind her, his face buried between her thighs. She gripped the ship's wheel with white knuckles, her body trembling as his tongue worked magic against her sensitive flesh.
"Fuck!" she gasped as his tongue flicked rapidly across her clit. "Right there, don't stop!"
The crude language that had once been foreign to her lips now flowed freely. Gone were the measured words of Britain's High Commander, replaced by raw expressions of pleasure and need. Bobby had taught her that in passion, as in battle, sometimes the most direct words carried the greatest power.
As her climax approached, Art abandoned herself to the sensation, no longer concerned with appearing controlled or dignified. Her hips bucked against his face, grinding her wet pussy against his skilled mouth as waves of pleasure crashed through her body.
"Yes, yes, YES!" she cried out, her voice carrying across the empty ocean as she came hard against his tongue.
Bobby rose to his feet, wiping her juices from his beard with a satisfied smile. His cock stood proud and thick, already ready for her again despite having taken her twice since sunrise.
"Turn around," he commanded, his voice husky with desire.
Art obeyed instantly, securing the wheel with a rope before turning to face him. Her tunic was already hiked up to her waist, her breasts exposed to the morning sun and salty air. The modesty that had once defined her public persona had evaporated completely in the freedom of the open sea.
Bobby lifted her easily, positioning her so that her back rested against the wheel. With a single powerful thrust, he buried his cock inside her, drawing a sharp cry of pleasure from her lips.
"Fuck me hard," she demanded, wrapping her legs around his waist. "Make me feel it."
Bobby needed no further encouragement. He pounded into her relentlessly, his thick shaft stretching her in the most delicious way. Art's head fell back, eyes closed in ecstasy as each thrust sent jolts of pleasure coursing through her body.
"You love this, don't you?" Bobby growled, his hands gripping her ass as he drove deeper. "The warrior queen taking cock in the open air?"
"Yes!" Art gasped, her inner walls clenching around him. "Gods, yes!"
In the weeks since leaving Britain's shores, Art had discovered a hunger within herself that matched her appetite for conquest on the battlefield. The woman who had once hidden her femininity beneath male clothing now reveled in it, embracing the power of her own pleasure with the same determination she'd once devoted to military strategy.
Bobby shifted his angle, hitting that spot deep inside that made her see stars. "Come for me again," he demanded. "Let me feel that tight cunt squeeze my cock."
His crude words pushed her over the edge. Art's second climax hit her like a thunderbolt, her entire body convulsing with pleasure as she screamed his name. Bobby continued thrusting through her orgasm, prolonging the waves of sensation until she could barely think.
Only once she had completely surrendered to the pleasure did he allow his own release, driving deep one final time before flooding her with his hot seed. Art moaned softly, feeling the familiar warmth filling her as her body continued to tremble with aftershocks.
"That's three times this morning," she murmured as he finally withdrew, his cum dripping down her thigh. "Are you trying to fuck me senseless before midday?"
Bobby grinned, tucking his still impressive cock back into his breeches. "Just ensuring the captain remains in good spirits," he replied with a wink. "The journey is long, after all."
Art laughed, making no move to adjust her clothing as she returned to the helm. The feel of the wind on her bare skin and the wetness between her thighs had become sensations she cherished—reminders of her newfound freedom.
"We'll need to drop anchor soon to check our water supplies," she observed, squinting at the horizon. "That small island we spotted yesterday should serve well enough."
Bobby nodded, moving to stand beside her. His hand rested casually on her bare ass, thumb tracing lazy circles on her skin. "There's a freshwater spring there, according to my calculations. And perhaps some fruit trees, if we're fortunate."
Art leaned into his touch, her body already responding to his casual caresses despite their recent activity. "And a beach, I hope," she added with a sly smile. "I've been wanting to feel sand beneath my back while you fuck me."
Bobby laughed, the sound rich and genuine. "Ever the strategist, planning conquests in new terrain."
Art turned her head to kiss him deeply, her tongue seeking his with the same boldness she now brought to all their encounters. "You've created a monster," she murmured against his lips. "I can't seem to get enough."
"Good," he replied, his hand slipping between her legs to find her still slick and sensitive. "Because I've waited a long time to show you this side of yourself."
By midday, they had anchored near the small island. Art stripped off her clothing without hesitation before diving into the crystal-clear waters. Bobby watched her swim with powerful strokes, admiring the play of muscles beneath her skin and the graceful way she moved through the water.
When he joined her, they met in the shallows, bodies pressing together as salt water swirled around them. Art wrapped her legs around his waist, seeking him again with insatiable hunger.
"Here?" Bobby asked, his cock already hardening against her.
"Here," she confirmed, positioning herself above his thick shaft before sinking down onto him with a satisfied moan. "Everywhere."
They fucked in the shallow water, Art riding him with the same skill she'd once shown on horseback leading troops into battle. The warm water lapped around them, adding new sensations to their joining as she moved up and down his length.
"Fuck, you feel incredible," Bobby groaned, his hands on her hips guiding her movements. "So tight and perfect."
Art threw her head back, water droplets flying from her short hair as she established a rhythm that brought them both maximum pleasure. "And you fill me so completely," she gasped. "Like you were made for my cunt."
The crude word on her lips—once unimaginable from Britain's dignified High Commander—now felt natural, powerful. Bobby had taught her that there was honesty in such raw language that the polite euphemisms of court could never capture.
Their passion in the water was quick and intense. Art came with a shuddering cry, her inner muscles gripping him like a vise as pleasure coursed through her body. Bobby followed moments later, his release triggering another wave of sensation that left her clinging to his shoulders for support.
Afterward, they made their way to the beach, collecting fresh water and gathering the wild berries they discovered growing near the island's center. But food and water were secondary concerns compared to their hunger for each other. Before the afternoon was done, Bobby had taken her on the sand just as she'd requested, the grains rough against her back as he drove into her with relentless force.
"More," she demanded, her nails drawing red lines down his back. "Harder!"
Bobby complied, fucking her with abandon until they were both covered in sweat and sand, their bodies marked by the evidence of their passion. Art's third climax of the afternoon left her nearly unconscious with pleasure, her body limp and sated beneath him.
As evening approached, they returned to the ship, their supplies replenished and their bodies temporarily satisfied. Art stood at the bow, watching the sunset paint the sky in brilliant colors while Bobby prepared a simple meal in the small galley below.
Her body ached pleasantly, marked by Bobby's attentions in ways that would have been scandalous in her former life. A love bite on her neck, finger-shaped bruises on her hips, the pleasant soreness between her legs—all physical reminders of the freedom she'd found in abandoning the constraints that had bound her for so long.
When Bobby joined her, bringing wine and freshly prepared fish, Art leaned against him contentedly.
"I never imagined life could be like this," she admitted, taking a sip of the rich wine. "So... uncomplicated."
Bobby's arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close. "You carried the weight of a nation for years," he said. "You earned this freedom."
Art turned in his arms, studying his face in the fading light. "And you? What freedom have you found in our journey?"
Bobby didn't answer immediately, his eyes reflecting something ancient and unreadable. "A different kind," he finally said, his voice soft. "One I hadn't expected."
They ate as darkness fell, sharing the simple meal and the wine beneath an emerging canopy of stars. The night was clear, the sea calm, creating perfect conditions for what had become their nightly ritual.
Art cleared away the remnants of their meal before returning to find Bobby had spread blankets on the deck. She smiled, recognizing the invitation in his arrangement.
"Under the stars again?" she asked, already removing her tunic.
"The best view in all creation," Bobby replied, his eyes fixed not on the sky but on her naked body as she approached.
Art lowered herself to the blankets, stretching like a cat in the moonlight. "Then come enjoy the view properly," she purred, parting her legs in blatant invitation.
Bobby undressed unhurriedly, allowing her to appreciate his perfect physique as each piece of clothing fell away. His cock was already hard, jutting proudly from his body as he knelt between her spread thighs.
"So beautiful," he murmured, running his hands along the inside of her legs. "My warrior queen."
Art's breath caught as his fingers found her center, already wet with anticipation. "Not a queen tonight," she whispered. "Just a woman who wants to be fucked under the stars."
Bobby lowered his head instead, his tongue tracing the length of her slit in one long, deliberate stroke that made her arch off the blankets. "First, I taste," he growled. "Then I fuck."
Art surrendered to his mouth, her hands tangled in his hair as he devoured her with practiced skill. The stars wheeled overhead, bearing silent witness as she came against his tongue, her cries echoing across the empty ocean.
When he finally entered her, it was with agonizing slowness, his thick shaft stretching her inch by delicious inch until she felt completely filled. Art wrapped her legs around him, trying to pull him deeper still, but Bobby maintained control, setting a pace designed to drive her wild rather than satisfy quickly.
"Please," she begged, her hips lifting to meet his measured thrusts. "Harder... faster..."
"Patience," Bobby murmured, continuing his deliberate rhythm. "Feel every inch, every stroke."
Art whimpered, her body desperate for more intense stimulation. Bobby knew exactly how to keep her on the edge, building her pleasure without allowing release. It was exquisite torture that left her writhing beneath him, all composure abandoned.
"Fuck me properly," she demanded, frustration and desire making her voice rough. "Stop teasing and fuck me like you mean it!"
Bobby's rhythm faltered at her crude demand, his control momentarily slipping as primal instinct responded to her words. "Is that what you want?" he growled, his thrusts suddenly harder, deeper. "To be fucked like a common tavern wench rather than a high commander?"
"Yes!" Art cried out, her inner walls clenching around him as he finally gave her what she craved. "Like that, just like that!"
Their coupling turned fierce, almost savage in its intensity. Bobby pinned her wrists above her head with one hand while the other gripped her hip hard enough to bruise. He pounded into her without restraint, each thrust driving deep enough to make her see stars that had nothing to do with the night sky above them.
"Take it," he growled against her ear. "Take every inch of my cock."
Art's response was incoherent, her body surrendering completely to the overwhelming pleasure. She came with a scream that might have carried all the way back to Britain's shores, her entire body convulsing around him as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed through her.
Bobby followed moments later, driving deep one final time before emptying himself inside her with a guttural groan. His seed flooded her womb, hot and copious as always, filling her so completely that it leaked out around his still-pulsing cock.
They remained joined as their breathing gradually steadied, Bobby's weight a pleasant pressure atop her body. Art traced lazy patterns on his sweat-slicked back, enjoying the afterglow of their intense coupling.
"The stars are particularly bright tonight," Bobby observed, finally rolling to his side but keeping her close in his arms.
Art followed his gaze upward, taking in the vast canopy of lights above them. "They seem so much clearer at sea," she agreed. "Away from the smoke of towns and villages."
They lay in comfortable silence for a while, their bodies cooling in the night air. Art's mind wandered, considering how dramatically her life had changed in just a few short weeks. The woman who had commanded armies and restructured Britain's governance now found her greatest satisfaction in the simple pleasure of lying naked beneath the stars with her lover's seed warm inside her.
"I'll have to leave one day," Bobby said suddenly, his voice breaking the peaceful silence.
Art turned to face him, propping herself up on one elbow. "Leave? You mean return to Britain?"
Bobby shook his head, his expression unreadable in the moonlight. "No. Not return. Depart... elsewhere."
A cold sensation settled in Art's stomach, completely different from the warm contentment of moments before. "What do you mean? Where would you go?"
Bobby sighed, his hand moving to stroke her cheek gently. "It's difficult to explain. I'm... not like other men, as you've surely realized by now. My existence is governed by forces beyond conventional understanding."
"When?" Art asked, her voice steady despite the sudden tension gripping her body. "When will you leave?"
"I don't know exactly," Bobby admitted. "Not soon. Likely decades, if current patterns hold. But eventually, I will be... displaced."
Art absorbed this information with the same analytical focus she'd once brought to battlefield assessments. "And I cannot accompany you to this... elsewhere?"
"No," Bobby said simply. "The journey is not one that can be shared."
Art pulled away slightly, sitting up to look down at him. "Why tell me this now? After all we've shared these past weeks?"
Bobby sat up as well, his expression serious in the starlight. "Because what's growing between us deserves honesty, however difficult. And because I need to apologize for another limitation you should understand."
"What limitation?" Art asked warily.
"I cannot give you children," Bobby said bluntly. "My seed may fill you, but it cannot create life within you. I am not human—at least, not human in the way you are."
Art was silent for a long moment, processing this revelation alongside his earlier statement about eventual departure. When she finally spoke, her voice was measured, controlled in a way it hadn't been since they'd left Britain's shores.
"Do you think I regret coming with you?" she asked. "That I would choose differently, knowing this?"
Bobby studied her face carefully. "The possibility exists. Most humans desire legacy through offspring, particularly those who've achieved exceptional accomplishment in their lifetime."
Art laughed, though the sound held little humor. "My legacy is already secured in Britain's transformation. A child would add nothing to what I've already built." She moved closer, placing her hand on his chest directly over his heart. "And as for your eventual departure... decades of this seems worth whatever pain might follow."
"You're certain?" Bobby asked, genuine uncertainty evident in his voice.
Art leaned forward, pressing her lips to his in a kiss that answered more eloquently than words. When they finally separated, she remained close enough that he could feel her breath against his lips.
"My only regret," she whispered, "is that you didn't show me this side of womanhood sooner. I would have embraced it alongside my destiny, rather than believing I had to choose between them."
Bobby smiled, pulling her back into his arms as they reclined on the blankets once more. "Perhaps the timing was necessary," he suggested. "You needed to establish your authority and accomplishments first, before exploring this aspect of yourself."
"Perhaps," Art agreed, settling against his chest. "Or perhaps you were simply being cautious with your student."
"Both can be true," Bobby said, his fingers playing idly with her short hair.
They fell into comfortable silence again, the gentle rocking of the ship and the vast starscape above creating a perfect moment of peace. Art's hand drifted down Bobby's body, finding his cock already beginning to harden again despite their recent exertions.
"Ready so soon?" she murmured, wrapping her fingers around his substantial length.
"For you? Always," Bobby replied, his voice deepening with renewed desire.
Art straddled him in one fluid movement, positioning his tip at her entrance before sinking down slowly, taking him deep inside her once more. "Then let's not waste a moment," she said, beginning to rock her hips in the rhythm she'd learned drove him wild. "If we have decades, I intend to use every minute."
Bobby's hands found her hips, guiding her movements as she rode him beneath the stars. "Live in the moment," he agreed, his eyes locked with hers. "Whatever happens, we have this."
Art increased her pace, her head thrown back in abandon as she took her pleasure with the same confidence she'd once displayed on the battlefield. Tomorrow would bring new horizons, new discoveries as they sailed into unknown waters. But tonight was for this—the joining of bodies beneath the ancient stars, finding freedom in each other's arms while the world they'd left behind faded into distant memory.
As she felt Bobby's release flood her once more, Art surrendered to her own climax, her body welcoming his seed even knowing it could never bear fruit. Some unions created kingdoms and legacies; this one created something rarer—moments of perfect joy snatched from the jaws of duty and destiny.
And for now, that was more than enough.