“That was unnecessary.” This was the first time that this woman has spoken since being captured, an event that she accepted with a stolid kind of pride. She was the captain of the merchant ship’s wife. Well, the captain’s widow, now. She was middle-aged. A little stocky but solidly built. Her skin was lightly tanned from exposure to the sun, which also brought out freckles on her face and neck. She wore a blue dress that was finely crafted but not ostentatious. Modest but not prudish. She wore her long auburn hair in a single thick braid that she rested across her chest.

Jad shrugged his shoulders.

“Had to get her in there somehow. At least I got her hands free. Speaking of which, allow me--”

He hefted his sword and the three remaining women reluctantly held their wrists forward as he cut them loose.

“Not like you’re going anywhere anyway,” he said after the final cut, gesturing to the weights at their feet. He stepped away from them and leaned his back against the stone wall.

“So, who’s next?” the courtesan asked, massaging her wrists where they had been bound.

Jad eyed them keenly.

“You know, I hadn’t yet decided.”

“Well, what happens to us if you send in the whore next and she finishes him off?” the Southerner asked. The courtesan gave her a sidelong glance but didn’t protest the insult.

“Well, once he’s finished there’s really no use for the rest of you…” Jad trailed off. The whore laughed triumphantly at this.

The Southerner made to lunge at her but Jad halted her with a shout. With their attention, he addressed them.

“To make this interesting for us all, I promise the whore will go in last,” he explained magnanimously.

The Southerner seemed relieved. The courtesan seemed unperturbed.

“I suppose it’s all the same to me,” she smiled. “This flat-chested tomboy couldn’t get a man off even if he was returning to shore from a seven-year tour.”

The Southerner stared at her hatefully but made no move to attack her. Instead, she began to take off her clothes, shucking off her officer’s jacket, follower by her baggy white sailor’s shirt. Her breasts were bigger than they had seemed underneath her layers of clothing but were still on the small side. Her coconut-brown skin looked soft on the outside, but toned muscles rippled beneath it.

The whore eyed her with curiosity but didn’t say anything.

She undid her cloth belt and dropped both her underwear and pantaloons in one motion. Her calves and thighs were just as toned as her upper body. Her black pubic hair was neatly trimmed but still rather bushy. She stepped out of one leg of her pants, although the rope and weight prevented her from getting the other leg out. They lay on the floor at her ankle. She stood confidently, wearing only her sturdy black leather boots.

She then began to masturbate.

“Oh my,” the whore commented. “Getting turned on by all this?”

“No,” the Southerner spat back. “But I do need to work up some juice first.”

She continued to rub herself.

“You may fuck for a living but the boys always told me that you’re like humping an inanimate object. I’ve got the energy to get this done,” she boasted, “and I bet I can hold my breath longer than you too.”

The whore glared at her but did not reply.

Interesting indeed! But what about the other…

“You know,” Jad said to the widow, “they seem to have written you off as not being a threat.”

“I have lived a comfortable life,” she explained haughtily. “I may not have their… experience. But I am not completely ignorant in these matters.”

She sighed and began to disrobe as well. She hiked up her dress and petticoat, trying to lift the whole array over her head. The Southerner actually stopped playing with herself and helped the widow get it all off.

“Thank you, Callissa,” she said. She carefully set the dress to the side, folding it neatly and trying to minimize its contact with the damp rock floor. She now stood naked, save for her lacy white panties her simple shoes, the cloth of which matched the blue of her dress.

Her breasts were full and sagged slightly with age. Her freckles extended down past her chest, lightly dotting the tops of her breasts. Her hips were wide and her thighs were thick. She had a slight paunch to her stomach but was in surprisingly good shape for a woman her age.

“Going to ‘lube up’ too, Elowyn?” the whore joked. She had not shed a single piece of clothing.

“No,” the widow calmly explained. “I’m sure I lack the flexibility to work things that way, underwater. But I do think that the dress would get in the way.”

They all stood in silence for a moment. The Southerner, Callissa, resumed her masturbation.

They then heard the bubbling of air coming to the surface. The blonde had released her final breath. But had Seth finished? Jad doubted it. He peered into the water. He was doing something to her, but it was difficult to make out, due to the refraction and the underwater lighting. He kept an eye on the pool and, moments later, saw the glimmering of his companion’s dagger in the underwater torchlight, signaling for him to send down the next woman.

The three stood expectantly, awaiting his decision.

Jad raised a hand and pointed at the widow, Elowyn.

“You,” he said. “I’m curious to see how well you do.”

She sighed and calmly stepped up to the edge.

“You don’t have to push me in,” she said politely. “But I could use a hand with the weight.”

“But of course, my dear lady,” Jad said with a smile as he stepped up beside her, easily lifting the weight with one hand.

The other two women looked at her with a sort of grim respect.

He counted down from three and tossed the weight in as she jumped.