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Rum, Sodomy and the Lash

By: LibertyElyot



It had been relatively easy to slip unnoticed into the large chest of finest Nottingham lace that had lain unheeded on the bustling quayside. Such was the merry melee of jolly jack tars and haggling merchants that nobody had noticed a ragged youth picking a stealthy way over to where the goods were loaded high and wide, ready to be carried on board the East India Company clipper bound for the Americas.

The Americas and a new life, away from all the trouble and danger of the present here in Bristol.

The bolts of delicate fabric made an acceptable bed, and Kit Tremayne burrowed down, trying to sleep to pass the dark enclosed time before it would be possible to emerge and claim a place in the ship's crew to earn passage. The lurching and swaying motion into which Kit was swung within the hour was unexpected, but probably attributable to being carried on the shoulders of men who had been availing themselves of their last few hours ashore rather too thoroughly. There was a roaring sound that was difficult to place, and then a long and blessed silence. Yes! In the hold of the Western Rose, bound for Boston and freedom. It would be a few scant hours before Kit could prise off the lid and experience the voyage from the upper decks. A sailor's life for me.

In the event, Kit did not need to employ any feats of escapology. Blinking up into the gloom of the hold, the stowaway was rudely awoken from slumber by two raggle-taggle shipmates, who made short work of hauling their unexpected guest out of the frilly nest and up to the Captain's quarters.

"We've got a stowaway, Captain," opened the taller of the men grimly, pushing Kit through the door so that an undignified entrance on hands and knees was effected.

Captain Jake Prince looked up from the documents he was perusing with an expression of long-suffering irritation. A tall, lean man of about forty, with luxuriant black hair both atop his head and around his face, which sported a long slash of duelling scar, Captain Prince did not suffer fools on his vessel. He stood up, his manly figure enhanced by the billowing black shirt and tight black trousers that he wore, swaggering boots up to his knee and a variety of belts and gleaming blades arranged around his person.

Kit's lips parted in dismay. Who was this? Not Captain Forrester of the Western Rose, surely. Forrester was an older man, grey-haired and respectably clad. This was...not right.

Kit shrank back as Captain Prince took a few steps closer, jingling as he moved, his eyes alert and questioning.

"Where did you join us?" he rasped.

"Bristol, Captain." Kit made every effort to sound as gruff and hard as possible, but the Captain smiled, almost laughed. Damn! Did he know?

"You must have come in those chests of lace we stole from the quayside. I suppose you think you're going to seek your fortune in America, do you?"

Kit nodded mutely.

"Bad luck," said the Captain mockingly. "You're on the Occidental Orchid, uninvited guest of myself, Captain Jake Prince. Kit gasped. The Black Prince. This was the most miserable luck; Prince was the most notorious pirate working the Meditterranean; a dreadful blackguard of whom the most bloodcurdling tales were regaled in every inn on the coast of Britain and beyond. 

"Ah, so my reputation precedes me." Prince's voice was striking; rich, deep and with a deadly smoky allure. Kit could understand why he was considered a legendary womaniser. "You have heard of me. Have you also heard how we deal with extraneous crew?" 

"No." Kit's negative came out as a strangled sob.

"We lash them till they can barely stand, then send them down the gangplank to give the sharks a treat." Captain Prince left a beat of silence during which he smirked, revealing a prominent gold tooth, at Kit's stricken face.

"Of course," murmured Prince, his lips disconcertingly close to Kit's ear, "I would never use the cat o' nine tails on a woman."

Kit froze, barely daring to breathe. Goddamn him; how could he look at this grubby bag of rags and see femininity?

"I'm not a woman," gritted Kit stubbornly.

"Really? Then take off your shirt."

"I will not!"

"I can't imagine why you think you are in a position to defy me. Take it off, or I'll take it off for you."

Prince's strangely elegant hands drifted through the air towards Kit's torn, stained chemise. Kit looked around blindly, considering making a run for it, but the facts had to be faced. There was nowhere to run, if you didn't count the Bristol Channel. Grudgingly, and with face aflame, Kit lifted the disgusting garment over her grimy face and shorn matted hair, throwing it down with a challenging slap and failing to meet the Captain's eye. He was bound to have the most enragingly arrogant look of triumph on his face and she wanted no accidental glimpse of it.

"As I thought. I can smell the tang of female from across Billingsgate Market; you presented very little in the way of challenge, my dear. But we will discuss this further after you have been cleaned up. Moody, Fagin, scrub her up and bring her back to me. Without those filthy rags."

"You mean...naked?" bleated Kit, all bravado tossed to the four winds.

"As the day you were born, my dear," purred the Captain, as the two pirates grabbed an arm each. "And if I hear that either of you barbarians have laid a finger on her...female treasures...I will have the pair of you flogged until your spines are visible, is that clear?"

"Yes, Captain," muttered the henchmen, and they dragged a topless Kit off to what she assumed was going to be the most humiliating experience of her life.

*

So far, her assumptions were not proving mistaken. Kit stumbled and lurched forward in the wake of her captors, highly conscious of her firm young breasts bouncing this way and that as they descended ladders to the deck. Curious glances, catcalls and whistles assaulted her ears and she wondered fearfully if she would make it back to the Captain's quarters without some attempt on her maidenhead being made.

She had been an idiot; she could see it now. But she really had had no other course. She could not stay and be arrested for her uncle's murder. Would the noose really be any worse than walking Prince's plank though? Desperately, she played over the possibilities in her mind. Could she plead with the Captain to spare her life and drop her off at the next sea port? She would have to try.

While she was thus occupied in painful musings, Moody and Fagin were filling a large round wooden tub with soapy water. Their task took some time, and Kit sat down on the boards, crossing her arms over her exposed breasts and feeling the harsh sun on her back and shoulders. She had to admit, a bath would be welcome; she should make the most of what might be one of the last pleasurable experiences of her life.

It was difficult, though, when she had to pull down her britches in front of the two leering pirates and give them a good eyeful of her pubic bush and her nude behind before climbing into the tub and sliding as far into the water as she possibly could. From beneath the greyish bilge, she looked up at the crow's nest and the men gesturing obscenely down at her in the rigging. One even had his hands down his trousers, either pretending or masturbating for real. Serve him right if he lost his footing and broke his back, she sulked. She immersed her entire body in the water's warm embrace, feeling the week's worth of dirt and degradation wash away for sublime seconds before having to come up again for air.

Too soon, she was chivvied out of the protective suds and handed a cloth to dry her dripping body. As she vigorously rubbed herself all over, it was hard not to notice the bulges in the trousers of her companions. It was like being in a dream; an awful dream from which one struggled to extricate oneself into the relief of full consciousness. But this dream would never end, unless with her death. No, she must not allow herself to think such thoughts. Fortune favours the brave.

She held her chin up and stared straight ahead as she was led, completely naked, back to the Captain's quarters, running a hideous gauntlet of unwanted lustful attentions.

The pirates pushed her through the door again and were dismissed. Kit maintained her defiant stance even as she trembled under the Captain's fierce scrutiny. Hearing his footsteps approach, she noted that there were two place settings at his table and dinner appeared to be imminent. Her wandering eyes were soon forced back to her piratical prison warder, who was now towering over her and raking his eyes from her chestnut hair to her dainty feet and all points between.

"A most unconvincing boy," he said softly, the lowness of his tone forcing her to look into his face to aid her concentration. Those eyes were too piercing; if she hadn't been naked, she would have imagined herself to be, under that penetrating gaze.

"Are you going to kill me, Captain?" she asked bluntly. He smiled at her and took her chin between finger and thumb, prising her mouth open and inspecting her teeth.

"You're a fine specimen," he said evasively. "Good teeth are very rare. I suspect you of high birth."

"No, indeed, Captain," flustered Kit.

"What is your name?"

"Kit."

"Your full name."

"Catherine."

"Your...full...name." His grip on her chin tightened painfully and her head was wrenched up to an angle that rendered avoidance of his gaze impossible.

"Catherine Smith. Kitty. Kitty Smith."

Captain Prince inhaled sharply; it was clear that he did not believe her. But he let the matter drop for the time being. He indicated the table with an exaggerated gentlemanly gesture.

"Pray take a seat, Miss Smith. I would be most honoured if you would join me for dinner. I anticipated your hunger and have provided a repast which I trust you will find acceptable."

"Oh." Kitty was stumped. "Can't I...dress first?"

"Kitty, this is a pirate ship. We do not carry spare female costume. Please take a seat."

Cheeks burning, Kitty sat in the chair Captain Prince had pulled out for her and watched as he seated himself opposite. A young lad of about her own age brought in a platter of cooked chicken, potatoes and vegetables, then a bottle of red wine. He seemed shy of the bare female flesh on display and kept his head bowed as he served them.

"Thank you, Tom, you may go," said the Captain dismissively. Then he turned his attention to his shapely captive and commanded, "Tell me about yourself, Kitty."

"It's Miss Smith to you," she said fierily.

"No it is not, and I'd advise you to curb the feisty temperament in the circumstances. Kitty. So?"

Kitty felt hot with mortification and worry. What story could she spin him?

"I'm just a poor street girl from Bristol, Sir," she mumbled. "My parents are dead and I'm alone in the world. I thought I could stay out of the poorhouse if I could jump ship to America and find my way in the new world."

"I don't appreciate being lied to, Kitty," said the Captain, his voice dangerously silken. "You are certainly not a poor Bristol street girl. Where is your accent? There is nothing coarse or hard about you, my dear. Now give me the truth."

Kitty chewed miserably on a piece of chicken. She ought to be relishing her first decent meal in a week, but it tasted of ashes and gristle. Her stomach was clove-hitched to hell. She thought she might be sick all over the Captain. That would impress him.

"Please don't kill me," she blurted, tears spilling at last from her depthless brown eyes.

"Watering my tablecloth will not deter me from finding out your true story, Miss Smith," said the Captain severely. "Dry those tears and tell me the truth. I do not intend to kill you, though you may wish I had by the time I'm finished here tonight."

Kitty choked down the sobs. What an unfeeling bastard! Did he expect her to be happy that she was facing an infamous rogue with no clothes on?

"I'm...a poor....Bristol...street girl," she juddered obstinately. The Captain sighed, flung down his napkin and raised himself to his full six feet and one inch.

"Very well, Kitty, you insist you are no lady, and therefore I will not treat you as such." He could capitalise on this foolish wench's pigheadedness, and he planned to make the most of his unexpected female company. "Come here."

Kitty covered her mouth with her hands apprehensively. She did not want to go anywhere near his force field of menace.

"I'm waiting," he said, arms folded, tapping one foot impatiently on the wooden flooring.

"What...do you want?" whispered Kitty, terrified.

"Come here and I'll show you."

Kitty rose on legs whose bone density appeared to have crumbled to almost nothing. She padded warily over to the looming dark figure of the buccaneering brute. She was still about a foot away when he snatched up one of her wrists and pulled her hard against his chest. She yelped in alarm, but he silenced her with a finger on her lips.

Taking it away when he was satisfied of her compliance, he bent his face down to hers until the tip of his prominently aquiline nose rested against her cheek, his lips laid lightly on her ear.

"You, Kitty, have been a very badly-behaved girl today. You have lied to me, you have disrespected my authority, and you have failed to act with a befitting level of humility considering you came to me as a filthy little stowaway. Therefore, it is my view that you deserve to be punished. What do you say?"

Rum, Sodomy and the Lash Ch. 02



Kitty's heart was pounding in her ears, her breath short and ragged, as she struggled to process Captain Prince's words. She knew objectively that this was an undesirable situation of dire jeopardy, so why was she so uselessly fixated on the sight of the scattered black hairs on his chest and the fabulous novelty of his scent? It was an aromatic intoxicant of musk, perspiration, leather and spices and it was shooting a starry path straight to the part of her brain that she desperately needed to function properly NOW if she was going to avoid something unpleasant happening. The warmth of his body radiated from him, transferring a little of his heat to her nude flesh. She liked that feeling. Her nipples were painfully hard and there was a dampness about her thighs. Why would he not draw back from her, why did he persist in breathing into her neck in this way? It was intolerable.

With a gargantuan effort, she pulled her thoughts back from the brink and stammered, "I....don't...agree."

"Hardly surprising, Kitty, as this seems to be the template of all our exchanges. I say something and you disagree." Captain Prince unravelled his spine and loomed above her once more, regarding her with taunting amusement. "I am unaccustomed to being disagreed with, wench; do you know why that is?"

Kitty shook her head dumbly, trapped in the charismatic beam of his attention.

"Because I am master of this ship and all who sail in her." He leaned down once again so that their eyes were level and enunciated distinctly. "Including you."

Kitty fumed impotently. She was a lady! She was Catherine Tremayne, the only child of Lord Tremayne of Templecombe. And this...ruffian...was a pirate! It was too topsy-turvy to be borne.

"Who the devil do you think you are, Sirrah!" she shrilled irately. "You can't speak to me like this."

The pirate captain laughed long and loud.

"And to think I was going to go easy on you," he chuckled into Kitty's livid face. "Thinking you were just some timid little chit who had bitten off more than she could chew. Well, let's see how ready you are to take that imperious tone after I've given you the sound spanking you have just asked for so eloquently."

"You've...WHAT?" spluttered Kitty, springing backwards violently, but not quickly enough to elude Captain Prince's bruising capture of her wrist.

"You heard," he said grimly, dragging her over to his chair by main force.

Kitty was beyond speech. Never in all her born days had she even been spoken to with less than reverence and respect. Her father had treated her as if she were made of rare porcelain and she had grown up more used to commanding staff than conversing on equal terms. She had always been given anything she desired immediately and had a perception of herself as some kind of Empress, designed to be adored and flattered. Spanking, or discipline of any kind had certainly never been a feature of her experience, and she had never expected it to be.

But now Captain Prince had her bent face-down over his knee, both her wrists encircled in a vice-like grip while she kicked and hollered her dissatisfaction with the scenario. In an effort to contain her lusty protestations, the corsair nipped her earlobe with his teeth and hissed, "You can behave yourself and submit to my hand, or continue your disobedience, in which case I will tie you down and use my strap. Which is it to be, Kitty?"

A final shriek of rage passed through Kitty's clenched teeth before she brought her writhing body to stillness, having no doubt that the Captain was a man of his word.

"Sensible girl," he said drily, running a rough-skinned hand across the smooth surface of her untouched bottom. "Peachy little arse, too," he noted. "Though I plan to paint it cherry red before I've done with you."

Kitty whimpered piteously, not quite able to bring herself to plead with him. If he was going to do this, she wished he would just hurry up and get it over with.

"I'm going to show you what happens to foolish girls who can't keep a civil tongue, Kitty," he promised, and suddenly the first stroke landed with an echoing smack that she was sure could be heard the length and breadth of the ship. It hurt. The imprint of his hand was sure to be visible on her backside, and this was just his opening blow. But she prided herself on her dignified demeanour and refused to shout or cry. He could do his worst; she would not give him the satisfaction of tears.

It was far from easy to keep this vow, though, as cracking smack after smack fell, sometimes rapidly and stingingly, sometimes weightily and hard, on her quivering behind. The Captain meant business, and she had the feeling he would not let up until he could see the evidence of her contrition. Damn him, he would get nothing of the kind from her. She bit her lip and squirmed for what seemed like a very long time, but his arm seemed not to tire in the slightest, and his hand was constituted of some impervious material that felt nothing despite its frequent harsh contact with her bottom.

The spanking itself might not be quite so bad if only he didn't feel the need to keep up a maddeningly patronising commentary throughout.

"Any regrets yet, Kitty? Hmmm? (Smack) Seeing the error of your ways? (Smack, smack, both sides) You will be addressing me with courtesy, young lady, if I have to spank you until daybreak (smack, smack, smack, smack, very fast and hard, drawing gasps of discomfort)." And so on.

After about eight hours of this (in actuality it was eight minutes), Kitty could no longer keep her voice from wailing out the proof of her pain. It was on the tip of her tongue to beg him to stop, but her aristocratic Tremayne blood kept the pleas at bay.

"Starting to feel the burn now, Kitty?" enquired the Captain infuriatingly. "I'm hardly surprised; your pert little bum is as red as that wine on the table. A full-blooded burgundy, my dear. You know, you can stop all this by telling me the truth about your identity."

He waited a fraction of a second for Kitty's response, but an angry "Nnrggh" was all he got, so his arm swept upwards to strike once more.

More than ten minutes, and frequent exhortations to tell the truth, later, Kitty had broken her resolution and tears were dripping from the end of her nose and staining the wooden boards. Captain Prince's reputation for brutality was not undeserved, but he judged that his attractive little prisoner had had enough for one evening. She would hold out a while longer, but he would have broken her by tomorrow evening, without doubt. Her buttocks were an angry flame red all the way down to the middle of her thighs; a little more attention to that area tomorrow would get the desired results. He released her wrists and allowed her to flop exhaustedly over him for a few restorative minutes before brushing his fingertips across her scorched flesh.

"You took your punishment bravely, Kitty," he crooned, "but we'll see how you get on tomorrow, when the process will be repeated after breakfast, dinner and tea."

Kitty made an incoherent sound of half-rage, half-despair.

"Oh yes, Kitty, surely you didn't think I would let the matter drop so easily? I will get to the bottom...the very red bottom...of this, young lady. You will tell me who you are or you will resign yourself to never sitting again."

Kitty screwed up her face. It was impossible. She could never tell him the truth. She would work on a convenient fiction while she lay abed tonight. Anything to get out from under his merciless hand.

"Is that understood, Kitty?"

"Yes, Captain," she moped.

"Good. And now that I have warmed your bum, you may go and warm my bed."

"WHAT?"

"Calm yourself, my dear. Do you expect to bunk down in the hold with my crew? Your maidenhead would be a distant memory within seconds. It is the only...relatively...safe place for you to sleep. Don't fret, I won't touch you. Unless..." His fingers drifted wickedly down to harvest some of the mysterious juices that slicked her inner thighs, "...you want me to."

She kicked indignantly. How dare he?

Chuckling, he lifted her to her feet and guided her, hand in the small of her back, to his bedchamber next door.

"Sweet dreams, Kitty," he enjoined aggravatingly, leaving her to collapse on the bed on her stomach, burying her face in the rumpled linens. It was too much! How on earth was she going to get away from this scoundrel? She moved a hand behind herself to soothe her roasted rump, throbbing away as if it had a life of its own. She had never been so humiliated in her life, and he had promised at least one repeat performance tomorrow.

She determined to put her mind to weaving a convincing lie to put him off spanking her again, but somehow the tingly warmth down below wouldn't let her think straight. Instead, she found herself stealthily moving her hand from the heat in her rear to that between her legs. Why was it so wet there? She began to flick gently at the button of flesh at the heart of her pink petals, as she had done so back in her bed at home on occasion, without knowing entirely what she was doing or what it signified. It felt lazily delicious, the afterglow of the spanking having engorged the area and as her crisis hit her, she was thinking of lying over the Captain's knee, of him touching her there, of his rough scent and raised eyebrows and dark-voiced authority. "Ooooh, yes, Sir," she whispered into the pillows.

But seconds later she was furious with herself. What could she be thinking? She had to get away...make up a story...but the pleasuring had made her even sleepier...and the rocking and swishing of the sea against the bows was like a lullaby...and before she knew it...she was fast asleep.

*

Kitty woke in the night, blearily unsure of where she was but coming to quite quickly on noticing that her wrists were bound together with a wide strip of soft black leather which tethered her to the bedhead. Similar arrangements had been made with each ankle, gently parting her legs so that her sex would be visible if she weren't covered with blankets. She still lay prone, though she noted that her bottom no longer radiated such a cruel heat; it was only a little tender now. God's teeth, what was his game? She almost woke him up to ask him, but stopped herself judiciously; who could tell what his mood would be?

She turned her head to the side and saw his back, naked, though still with a sword strapped to it; surely that must be uncomfortable? She supposed the life of a pirate captain must be a dangerous one, and a flicker of sympathy for him crossed her mind before she scorned it. Don't be a pirate if you want a quiet life. And don't stow away on a pirate ship either, she added ruefully, before falling back into the welcome refuge of sleep.



Rum, Sodomy and the Lash Ch. 03



"Somebody was very, very tired last night." His mocking voice in her ear. She twisted her neck around to find him crouched beside her, fully-clothed having apparently been up and about for some time. "Good morning, Kitty. Breakfast is served."

"Why am I tied up?" she asked him crossly. "Release me immediately."

He shook his head. "It takes a long time for a lesson to sink in with you, doesn't it, Kitty? Never mind; I have the time and the inclination to pursue your education." He began to unfasten the bonds, ankles first.

"I restrained you because I could not be sure I wouldn't be called away during the night, and I didn't want any foolhardy nonsense from you. I can't have you getting stuck in the rigging or falling overboard. Or worse, falling into an unfriendly bunk. It was for your own safety, my dear."

"I am not your dear. And I'm not interested in your pathetic attempts to justify your inexcusable behaviour. I just want to get off this ship at the first port of call and let you get on with your...piracy."

Captain Prince untied the final knot around her wrist and grinned down at her as she drew her naked body to its full height. Almost a foot shorter than his, and immeasurably punier. The look in her eyes was bigger than she was though, and he revelled in the thought that there would be lots of feistiness to tame today. Excellent; his favourite hobby.

"Surely you must have something I can wear?" she complained.

"You can wear one of my shirts," he offered.

"Very well." She waited for him to move and get one for her, but he maintained his maddeningly overpowering stance and sharky gold-toothed smile.

"Outside this cabin, that is." His eyes twinkled most vexatiously. "Inside with me, you will remain nude at all times."

"It is...unseemly," stormed Kitty, driven near insane by this imbalance of power. "You must let me dress."

"I must? I think not. A little humbling will be good for your soul, Miss... 'Smith'." The sarcastic inverted commas around her invented name were audible. "You'll try to be high and mighty with me, no doubt, but you won't be able to forget that every inch of your toothsome little body is displayed to me. Come. Breakfast." He took her hand, snatching it into his despite her efforts to withdraw it. "And then I believe we have some business to attend to."

The straw-clutching hope that he might have forgotten his promise melted away. Kitty swallowed unhappily and followed him into the cabin.

The table was set with some slices of overripe apple, stale bread and a flagon of ale.

"Beer for breakfast?" Kitty made a horrified face.

"Of course," said the Captain smoothly, "What did you expect?"

"A dish of tea." 

He laughed heartily.

"And yet you insist you are not a noblewoman. 'A dish of tea'. When would a Bristol street girl ever have tasted such a delicacy?"

Kitty looked down silently at the table, kicking herself for her mistake. 

"Stale bread and bruised fruit?"

"This is luxury, Kitty. Wait until we are a few days out of port and all of that is gone. Hard tack and maize gruel for us, my dear. The breakfast of real men."

"Hard tack?"

"A sort of biscuit. You have to watch for the weevils though."

"Ugh!" The Captain chuckled again at her naïve dismay. He was as sure as he could be that this girl was not used to roughing it in any way. Which brought him to the next item on the day's agenda.

"Well, then, Kitty. Last chance. Your real name and reasons for running away to sea, if you please."

Kitty stared into the flagon, avoiding his eye. "I've told you," she muttered.

He slapped his thigh beckoningly. "Over my knee, then, young lady."

"But it's the truth," she wailed histrionically.

"I'm waiting."

She sat fidgeting with the crust, stalling for time. If he thought she was going over there willingly, like some naughty child....

"Kitty, if I have to come and fetch you, you will be very, very sorry."

She kicked the chair aside mutinously and marched across to the insufferable bastard, throwing herself over his lap in the hope that his leg might break with the force of it.

"Steady," he cautioned, reaching for her wrists and pinioning them behind her back as he had done the last time. "A defiant attitude will not spare you, my dear; rather the opposite."

She steeled herself for what she knew would be a long and painful ordeal.

Slap! The first stroke fell at the crease of buttock and thigh, a singularly sensitive spot and she made a small yelp straightaway. The Captain noted it with satisfaction; she would find this less and less bearable with each punishment. He was correct in his thinking; within minutes the fresh smarting overlaying the previous night's residual soreness was creating a veritable furnace on Kitty's unfortunate arse. By five minutes she was whimpering and wriggling haplessly; by ten lusty yells of protest were coming thick and fast, but the Captain did not let up the pace or weight of his chastisement in the least.

A very brief respite came ten minutes in when Kitty heard the Captain say, "Yes, you may clear the table and go, Tom." To her intolerable mortification, Kitty saw the cabin boy from the corner of her eye, gathering up the breakfast plates while the Captain spanked relentlessly on and her exposed backside reddened and soared in temperature. Her little mewl of 'No' at being observed thus was swiftly understood by the Captain, who capitalised on it without further ado.

"Take a moment to watch Miss Smith's correction, Tom," he invited. "Sit down and take notes. Miss Smith has been dishonest and discourteous and now her bottom is paying the price. This is an excellent way to train subordinates to behave properly. You may find yourself in the same position one day, Tom. My one piece of advice to you is: don't spare the rod." He emphasised each word of his closing maxim with an especially stinging smack, before waving his hand to signify that the cabin boy could leave. 

"You're a tough nut to crack, Kitty," noted the Captain. "But you will yield."

He let his red-faced, sobbing quarry stand before him while he appraised her coolly.

"We will repeat the exercise after lunch, Kitty. In the intervening hours, you will polish my brasses for me. I expect to be dazzled. Good morning."

He left Kitty to her domestic duty, taking care to lock the door behind him.

Kitty spent the morning sitting on her sore behind at the table, rubbing the brasses until their sheen rivalled that of a mirror. It was lucky, she thought, that this work was so dull and repetitive. It gave her plenty of opportunity to exercise her creative talents and come up with a plausible story to relay over lunch. There was no way she was getting spanked again; her poor bottom would not stand it.

By lunchtime, Kitty was confident that she had spun the perfect tale and she positively looked forward to the Captain's return. It would be a small private victory to pull the wool over his piercing eyes; she would feel that she had won back a shred of her dignity and self-respect.

So when Captain Prince blew back into the cabin and picked up a few of the brasses to check their state of cleanliness, she was ready for him.

"You've polished these up well," he complimented her. "Now will I need to polish your bum after lunch, or are you going to tell me who you really are?"

Kitty drew a deep breath. "I'm Catherine Winkworth," she announced. "A lady from Bath."

He held up a hand. "Let's hear your story over lunch, shall we. Tom!"

The cabin boy scurried in with platters of bread, cheese, cured ham and pickles, accompanied by the ubiquitous ale. Once again, he would not look at Kitty, for which she was grateful. It was impossible to forget that she was naked; the constant awareness of it butted into her every thought.

"Well, Catherine Winkworth. Tell me about yourself." 

Captain Prince kept a hawklike eye on her face while she peddled him her lies.

"I come from Bath, and I'm afraid to say I have shamed my family and been cast out by my own father."

"How unfortunate. Why?"

"My sister Mary was engaged to be married to a fellow named Dudley. At a dance at the Pump Room, I caught his eye. We fell in love but had perforce to keep it a secret, for Mary's sake. Alas, my father caught us kissing on Pulteney Bridge and he threw me out and horsewhipped Dudley. Having nowhere to turn, I resolved to run away to America. And now I am here. With you. Hoping very much that you will set me down at your next port of call." Kitty popped a piece of cheese delicately into her mouth.

"Catherine Winkworth. What is your father's name?"

"John Winkworth."

"What is his business?"

"He is...a...trader in fine silks."

"I haven't heard of him."

"In a small way only, Captain Prince."

"What does your mother think of all this drama?"

"She is dead, Sir."

"Well, Kitty. I think that both you and your father have overreacted. It is my view that John Winkworth will even now be sitting in his warehouse bemoaning his hastiness in casting you out. You are his daughter -- he will forgive you."

"Oh...I think not."

"I am convinced of it. Indeed, so convinced am I that I will help you reunite with him. We are but two days out of Bristol; it will be small inconvenience to turn the ship around and take you home. I will deliver you to his door personally. What say you, Catherine Winkworth?"

The sarcastic emphasis on her made-up name rang very loud alarm bells in Kitty's head. Damn him! How could he know she was lying? 

"He is not a forgiving man!" she flustered.

"Neither am I, Kitty. Especially when I am lied to."

"I'M NOT LYING!" She jumped up and stamped her foot with fury.

"You are a dishonest, manipulative little minx who is going to need a bucket of water to douse the fire on her buttocks by the time I have dealt with her misdeeds." He was approaching her with catlike prowl; she threw her arms forward as a shield and made a desperate bid for the cabin door.

The Captain made a lightning-swift blocking manoeuvre, placing himself between Kitty and the door and reaching out almost negligently for her flailing forearm, which he caught with ease.

"Come, Kitty, you should finish your lunch," he said with deceptive mildness, returning her to his chair and sitting her on his lap. She squirmed rebelliously, but his hold of her was extremely firm and she could not move far. He fed her from his hand, and she was so hungry that she grudgingly accepted his offerings. She would be needing all her strength, she thought despairingly. How was she ever going to get out of this nightmare?

She swallowed the last of the chewy loaf and began to shake with dread.

"Now then, Kitty, I think you know the form," said her captor softly.

"Please don't spank me again," she entreated, tears already gathering in her eyes. "I can't bear it."

"You can and you will," replied the unbending terror of the high seas.

Kitty allowed the tears to fall on to her cheeks, hoping this would unlock some chamber of his heart that was not irredeemably hardened. But it seemed he had none, and additionally, he knew when he was being played.

"Save the tears for later," advised the Captain briskly. "When I've given you something to cry about."

He positioned her over his thighs for the third time in seventeen hours. A ghostly tingle of anticipation was already drifting across Kitty's aching cheeks. The first slap fell with painful amplitude on her tormented flesh, provoking a yell of complaint from its recipient.

"You can stop this, Kitty," the Captain reminded her, refreshing the left side of her posterior with a fast salvo of stinging slaps. "All you have to do...is talk."

"I have nothing to tell you," she urged, feeling him renew the redness of her right cheek next. Oh God he had hardly started and she was afire; it could not be borne... but it was better than swinging from the gallows, so she kept her counsel despite the raging temptation to tell all and put an end to this fierce and humiliating punishment. 

He applied his hard right hand to her boiling rear for fifteen agonising minutes. He had to admire her tenacity, and she his. They were as stubborn as each other, and he doffed a metaphorical cap to her in grudging homage. Torquemada would have had his work cut out with this wench.

Once more, an end was brought to proceedings when Tom appeared to clear the plates.

"She has no need of your sympathy, boy," barked Captain Prince, seemingly taking exception to the look on Tom's face. "She has asked for each and every stroke. Get out before I'm tempted to warm your rump as well." Tom disappeared instantly.

"There are only two conclusions I can draw from your obstinacy, wench," growled the Captain, warming his fingertips on Kitty's baking hot arse. "One is that the consequences of telling the truth are worse than a spanking. In which case I think I need to seriously consider going harder on you." Kitty squeaked. Not possible, surely. "Or...you secretly enjoy going over my knee. Is that it, Kitty? Do you like it? Shall I incorporate post-meal spankings into your daily schedule? Of course, I'm busy a lot of the time. Perhaps I could get a few crew to stand in for me now and again..."

"No," cried Kitty. How did a man learn to be so....awful?

"Well, Kitty," he said, tipping her on to her feet again. "I shall have to give it some thought. Your little backside will be bursting into flames soon." He took her into the bedroom and tossed her a shirt. "Here, put this on. You're scrubbing down the deck outside this afternoon."

Sullenly Kitty eased the capacious white shirt over her head. She had thought the Captain only wore black, so she was surprised to see he owned this snowy garment. "Special occasionwear," he told her, as if he had read her mind. "Though not for you. Swabbing the decks is hardly a treat."

Kitty gestured in frustration, noting that the shirt barely covered her behind. Were she to bend over in it, a glorious eyeful of her private parts would greet any onlookers.

"This is too short," she whined.

"It's long enough." The Captain's face made it plain that he would not be discussing the matter further and he took her hand to escort her outside for her first breath of fresh sea air that day.

It was not as hot as the day before, Kitty noted with some relief. A pleasant breeze cooled things down and the sky was scattered with light cloud. The Captain clicked his fingers, issued some curt instructions and before long a bucket of water and a scrubber were procured. The pirate who brought them ran hungry eyes over Kitty's legs before being summarily dismissed. 

"Do not leave this deck, Kitty," ordered the Captain, "on pain of punishment so severe it will make those spankings seem like caresses. Do you understand? I will be close by; do not fool yourself that I won't know what you are doing."

"Yes, Sir," grouched Kitty.

"Good girl. Now get on your hands and knees and scrub." The Captain watched with idle amusement for a few minutes while a blushing Kitty did as she was bid. The hem of the shirt rode up as she laboured, making it plainly visible that she had been spanked, and hard. It was even possible to catch the odd glimpse of her forbidden fruits. He could watch this for hours...but no, he had to get on. Piracy didn't do itself. 



Rum, Sodomy and the Lash Ch. 04



Kitty watched him descend the ladder from the deck, easing off her work as soon as his luxuriant black mane fell below her line of vision. Scurvy knave! What gave him the right to treat her like this; she, The Hon. Catherine Tremayne, on her hands and knees scrubbing like a scullerymaid. And a scullerymaid with a very sore behind and little to cover it at that. She knelt up, chewing her lip and making plan after plan, all of which ran out of steam the minute a theoretical Captain Prince caught her out in another lie. He could not be lied to. He was impossible. He was...very attractive though. That voice. Her toes curled as she imagined him whispering sweet nothings into the prickling shell of her ear.

But he wouldn't whisper sweet nothings -- he was no gentleman. Disgusting obscenities would probably fall from his lips in his version of courtship. One day...when all this bad business had blown over... she would get her revenge on him. She would see him horsewhipped on the steps of the Bath Pump Rooms. Or somewhere similarly public. She would see him hang! Even better.

A brief hissing sound shook her from her reverie.

She looked around in confusion, readying herself to resume a hardworking stance in case the Captain should be anywhere in the vicinity. But it was Tom, the cabin boy, slouching awkwardly over the rails, his cheeks aflame.

"He's gone down below," said the boy diffidently. "You could take a little break if you wanted."

Kitty sat back on her heels, wincing slightly at the contact they made with her bottom and half-smiled at her accomplice.

"Thanks for the tip," she said. "Tom, isn't it?"

"Aye." He nodded eagerly. "I don't know your name."

"Kitty. Have you been on this ship for long?"

"No, just a few months."

"How old are you?"

"I'm seventeen, the youngest aboard. Unless you...?"

"No, I'm eighteen. Nearly nineteen, as it happens. Though I'll probably spend my birthday locked in some rancid hellhole at the mercy of your villain of a Captain."

"Ssh. You might be heard. He's very hard on you, isn't he?"

"I had noticed." Kitty flushed and looked away, mortified. 

"Why is he punishing you?"

"I won't tell him anything about myself. Did you run away to sea?"

"No, I didn't. My father sold me into indentureship with the Captain."

"What? Why would your own father sell you to a pirate?"

Tom shrugged. "Money was scarce. I've got seventeen brothers and sisters."

"Seventeen?"

"One a year."

"Do you like the seafaring life?"

"It's hard. I get...a lot of stick from the crew. The Captain is a hard man, but he does see that I am not roughed up too much. I wish I could go back to dry land. My sea legs aren't the best. I'm contracted until I'm twenty one though."

Kitty gave him a sympathetic look. Four years of this life would be enough to kill a sensitive lad like Tom, she thought. At least she was going to be off this floating crime scene when they next anchored.

"I ought to go," said Tom, glancing furtively around. "I've work to do. I only came here to say that if you ever need a friend...I'm here."

"Thank you, Tom," said Kitty sincerely. He might not be much of an ally, but it meant a lot to her that somebody was on her side. She watched him hop off down the ladder, sighed and picked up her scrubbing brush once more.

*

A soup of dried beans and herbs, mopped up with a heel of very stale bread was Kitty's evening repast. Naked once more opposite the Captain, she ate particularly slowly, chewing every morsel a hundred times in an effort to put off the fateful moment when his inquisition would begin anew. Perhaps if she threw herself at his feet? Perhaps if she offered him money? But she had none. Perhaps if she offered him money in the future? No, he wouldn't fall for that. Perhaps if she kissed him... There was a thought. Would he spare her for a kiss? Her heart began to quicken as the hare-brained scheme took shape. Was it worth a try? Would it lead to even worse trouble? But what could be worse than yet another horribly painful spanking?

"Finished, Kitty?" asked the Captain, who had been silently contemplative all evening, politely.

"I..." She wanted to say no, but there was not a drop of soup nor crumb of bread left. "Yes."

"Shall we?" he drawled urbanely, with a sweeping gesture down to his lap. "I have plans to add a little variety to tonight's proceedings."

Christ, what dark intent did he have now? She shuffled over to his chair and lifted her pleading brown eyes to him. But instead of placing herself over his lap, she perched on one knee and swiftly locked the back of his head with her hands, lunging forward to kiss his lips. She was shaking with fear at what his response might be...but he was pulling her closer...and kissing her back; a long, hungry kiss that pitted his firm lips against her yielding ones, scraping her delicate skin with his whiskers and stimulating a hundred different tingling nerves on her full mouth. She was spinning into the sensation, falling into his rum-soaked breath and his masculine heat, letting it take her away from her sheltered, ladylike identity and towards womanhood. But then she squawked as he nipped hard at her lower lip, pulling back indignantly.

"Nice try, Kitty," he murmured, eyebrows raised. "You have the makings of a first-class doxy. I think I might have to spank you just a little harder for that."

Kitty screamed in frustration, beating her little fists against the Captain's manly chest.

"You brute!" she raged impotently.

"Sweet words will not spare you," he taunted. "Now go and bend over your chair with your palms flat on the seat and your legs about two feet apart."

"I shan't!"

"Come, Kitty, you shall. I can tie you down if you are insubordinate."

Kitty made no move to leave the Captain's lap. With a heavy sigh, he nudged her on to the floor and took her by the arm, positioning her as he had instructed, but tying her wrists to the chair frame with scarves. She watched him apprehensively as he crossed to a mahogany desk, opening a drawer and rummaging around in it.

"I'm afraid you leave me no choice, my little rebel," he said, finding what he was looking for and producing a rectangle of supple oiled leather with a small handle at one end. "If this doesn't loosen those luscious lips of yours, I don't know what will."

Kitty tugged at her bonds in alarm. That strap looked mean all right. Captain Prince slapped it down in his palm with a heartstopping crack.

"Please..." she whispered timidly. "You can't...."

"Still telling me what I can and can't do on my own vessel, Kitty? Hmmm. Well, let's warm you up first, shall we? Though you won't need much, after the thrashings you've already received at my hands today." Captain Prince opened the performance with an overture of speedy slaps to Kitty's sensitive bum, causing her to shift and wiggle her hips in futile efforts to dodge them.

"Keep still, Kitty," he warned. "I can hit harder than this if you make me."

"I can't...take...any more....", she yowled, pulling violently at the tethers, so that the chair almost tipped up. The Captain rolled his eyes and moved on to Act One; a hard, relentless onslaught from his rigid hand, with his other on the nape of Kitty's neck to still her manic twisting and writhing. By the time the interval came, Kitty had still not responded to his frequent exhortations to tell him the truth and he supposed he would have to make good the threat that he had hoped would loosen her tongue. Although he would enjoy strapping her dissident bum, he was reluctant to alienate her too much further. If he wanted her in his bed -- and he did -- he would prefer it to be as willingly as possible. But needs must when the devil drives...he needed to know exactly who his putative mistress was before he bedded her. He needed to be able to weigh up the consequences.

So he took the strap in his right hand and laid it across Kitty's broiling cheeks. She felt the smooth, cool leather as a relief at first before the split-second's consciousness of what it actually was precipitated her body into violent trembling. A sob lumped in her chest before he had even raised his arm.

"Last chance, Kitty," he said softly, returning his hand to the scruff of her neck, prepared for strenuous efforts to jump away. "Tell me the truth and I will stay my hand."

Kitty made a garbled sound but no words passed her lips. The strap arched up into the air behind her, hovered there for a second and then whooshed down, landing with a splitting snap on her derriere. Kitty howled like a high-pitched wolf, bucking frantically against the Captain's grasp, ready to wrench her limbs from their sockets if it would save her from another stroke of similar ferocity.

"No, no, no," she chanted hysterically.

"Breathe, Kitty, you will make it worse." The Captain's advice did not stop him from landing a second sizzling slap, just below the first. Kitty was arching her feet, lifting them up on her toes and then tensing them, moving her legs compulsively.

The third stroke fell at the junction of buttock and thigh, an extra-specially painful spot.

"Pleeeeease," shrieked the unhappy noblewoman, so shrilly that half the ship would be able to hear. "I caaaaaaan't."

"Then tell me," said the Captain unyieldingly, laying a fourth on her left cheek, which she clenched reflexively.

"You caaaaaan't....you'll kill meeeeeeee."

"Nobody died from a good strapping, my girl," he growled.

She hopped from foot to foot while the fifth tackled her right cheek. When would this turbulent woman speak? He had not bargained on such stoic resistance. Well, perhaps stoic was not the mot juste, he reflected, tuning out the barrage of pleas, curses, threats and pure gibberish passing her lips.

It was the sixth that cracked her. Laid stingingly over the third, it made her jump up and shout, "Tremayne."

"I beg your pardon," said the Captain sleekly, laying the strap against her capitulating posterior.

"My name...Catherine Tremayne."

"Little Kitty Tremayne." The Captain's eyebrows shot up hairwards. He laid the strap aside, untied her wrists and settled her in his lap, secured by his arms, with her burning rear hanging slightly over his thigh to minimise her discomfort. "Then we have met before."

Kitty would not meet his eye. Exhausted by her ordeal and terrified at having revealed her true identity, she hid her face in his silken shirt, allowing his scent to calm her. Why would his scent calm her?

"You won't remember it, I'll wager," he continued. "You were but a babe of seven or eight. I was a guest at Templecombe for a weekend party. You came upon me in the library and scolded me for touching your precious books without your permission." He chuckled. "You were a feisty lass then; I had a mind to advise your father on his disciplinary methods."

"My father never laid a finger on me," said Kitty hotly.

"That much is obvious," was the Captain's dry retort. "Now the job of whipping you into decent shape falls to my lot."

"How could you have been to Templecombe?" said Kitty accusingly. "My father does not associate with criminals."

"I was a gentleman once, would you believe, Kitty. Or what your vapid society would term as such. I found your genteel stock to be a worse nest of vipers than the roughest band of ocean brigands. I prefer the rugged honesty of piracy to the cultivated hypocrisy of the ton."

"How could a gentleman become a pirate?" wondered Kitty, captivated by Prince's revelation despite herself.

"A lifestyle of debauched pleasure-seeking, leading to debts, leading to crime, leading to a price on my head. I was a gentleman in terms of my birth and income only. My disposition tends me towards the lowest vices."

Kitty shivered. This was the man whose hands she had placed herself in.

"So then, Catherine Tremayne. Why are you here? Truth, of course. I'll know if you are lying."

Kitty twisted her fingers for a while before embarking on the unvarnished facts of her case.

"I killed a man, Captain," she whispered.

He breathed sharply in and took her face in his hands, turning it to his.

"How could a slip of a girl like you commit a murder?"

"It was not a murder! It was not premeditated. It was my uncle. He...was always a little over-fond of me. I was uncomfortable with his attention; he always took the avuncular affection too far. Too much touching; a certain look in his eye."

"The old dog," said Prince, somewhat hypocritically.

"On that day...that it happened...he cornered me in the drawing room. He got hold of me and started making horrible suggestions. I tried to get away but he was a big man. I...jabbed my fingers into his eyes and he let go of me. Then I took the poker from the hearth and cracked him across the head with it as hard as I could. He fell like a lead weight, blood was coming from his ears. I knew I had killed him."

Kitty was shaking with the effort of reliving her memory. Captain Prince held her close, stroking her hair soothingly.

"Forgive me for asking, Kitty, but, when you jabbed his eyes and he released you...why did you not just run?"

"I...don't know. I was so angry. I was so mad with rage. I couldn't believe he could be so loathsome, so disgusting....he deserved it."

"If the courts know that, Kitty, it will be deemed murder. And you will swing. You could have got away without killing him, but you chose to end his life."

"I didn't think he would die...."

"Small mitigation. You can never go back now." His long fingers massaged her scalp, then drifted down her cheek, ending with a thumb on her lips. He could have her. She had nowhere to go. He felt the splash of a tear on his skin and moved to kiss it gently away.

"Kitty..."

"I'm afraid," she sobbed. "So afraid."

"Don't be afraid, Kitty." The Captain's baritone voice was low down in his chest. "Let me take care of you."

She raised tear-dimmed eyes to his, confused by his change in manner. She allowed herself to be tugged into the fierce beam of his gaze, towards his aquiline nose, towards his duelling scar, towards his sensual lips, closer and closer, so close now, almost touching....

"Storm brewing, Captain!" came a cry from outside on the deck, before a pair of raggedy crewmen burst in, double taking at the sight of the naked woman on their commander's knee but recovering themselves sufficiently to explain that a heavy storm was on the way and should they batten down the hatches?

The Captain stood, bidding Kitty to go to bed and stay there before dashing away to attend to the crisis. Locking the door again.

A dispirited Kitty drooped into the bedroom and flung herself down, forgetting for a painful moment that her posterior was still throbbing. She huffed and turned herself to her stomach. 

Captain Prince knew her secret and now he could blackmail her to his heart's content. She wondered what she would do if he tried to seduce her, shocking herself slightly with the realisation that she rather hoped he would, not that she had any but the vaguest impression of what a seduction involved.

Her imagination didn't get much further than kissing before the ship begin to pitch and toss, gently at first, but escalating until Kitty's stomach was unsettled, then in turmoil and eventually she needed to crawl across the floorboards to the bucket by the door. Rain lashed against the portholes and the thunder was only just audible over the roar of the sea. Anything that was not nailed down slid and smashed on the floor; even the bed could not stay secure. Kitty held on to one post and groaned as every last drop of her stomach contents decorated the bucket and the floor around it. 

Convinced she would die, Kitty prayed that she would atone for her sin, that she would live a good life forevermore, if only she could go back to dry land.

With the storm at its height, Captain Prince reappeared to check on the progress of his prisoner. She was wailing weakly, one hand clutching the bedpost while the other kept a tight hold of the bucket.

He made a swift path over to her and knelt at her side. "Why, Kitty, ssshhhh, my dear," he soothed, gathering up her limp body and laying her carefully on the bed. "The storm will pass soon; already it is losing force. There will be many more before we reach port again; I'd advise you to develop some sea legs."

Kitty lay moaning on the bed, unsure whether the griping of her stomach or the pulsing of her bottom was worse, but more positive than anything that she did not want that rogue seeing her in this state. He took the bucket and went outside, returning with a clean, soapy water-filled version.

"Let us clean you up," he offered, plunging a sponge into the suds and running it over Kitty's forehead and cheeks. Kitty could only make small chirrups and mewls like a wounded animal. She lay back and resigned herself to the application of the sponge, running down her neck and over her breasts, leaving trails of bubbles in its wake. The Captain worked it into a rich lather, plying the sponge in circles on Kitty's stomach and thighs, all the way down her legs to her feet and then back up again until every part of her front had been washed clean. Only her most private part was left out. He didn't want to touch that until he had the promise of full and exhaustive use of it ahead of him. Tomorrow, perhaps.

He patted Kitty dry and kissed her forehead. 

"Sleep now. I must go out and inspect the damage. Goodnight."

Kitty fell into a dark, bottomless pit of sleep. 



Rum, Sodomy and the Lash Ch. 05



The Captain allowed her to rest for the next day; for which small mercy Kitty was more profoundly grateful than she realised. He was busy overseeing repairs, so it was Tom who brought her bowls of broth and flagons of the rare and highly-prized clean water. His friendly face and solicitous manner perked Kitty up and by teatime she was feeling almost herself again, a little sore from the strain of the repeated vomiting but otherwise hale.

"How fares my little invalid?" asked the Captain, sitting at Kitty's bedside and taking her small hand in his considerably larger ones. They felt reassuring and protecting somehow, the long fingers wrapped around her and the thumbs lightly stroking the underside of her wrist in a way that made her flutter.

"I am...little improved, I fear," sighed Kitty plaintively, planning to feign illness for as long as possible in order to avoid the Captain's society. "I...feel so weak."

"Truly, Kitty? Tom tells me you were laughing and joking with him, and that you ate three bowls of broth one after the other a scant hour ago. One of you is telling me falsehoods."

Kitty pouted defeatedly. Why did Tom have to be so honest? He was meant to be a pirate, for pity's sake. "I suppose I do feel a little better," she sulked.

"Then you can join me at table while I take supper. Come, Kitty, out of bed now. And no more falsehoods. I can see I will have to be strict with you when you are my mistress."

"Excuse me! I am not your mistress!" Kitty drew the bedclothes up to her chin and regarded the Captain with stormy eyes.

"Indeed, not yet," said the Captain equably. "But soon. Come on. Up, or I'll have to carry you in there over my shoulder."

Kitty followed him into the cabin and lolled opposite him while he ate, her dejected stance amusing him.

"Worse things happen at sea," he teased her, draining his wineglass.

"I'm sure they are going to," she moped.

"Why so downcast, Kitty? Frowns ill-become that pretty face."

"Why so downcast? Surely it's obvious! My life is in ruins, that's why."

"I might take offence at that statement, were I the sensitive type. Fortunately for you, I am not. Your life is about to take a substantial turn for the better, Miss Tremayne. I mean to do you the honour of accepting you as my mistress."

Kitty tossed her head. "I don't want to be your mistress," she averred forcefully. 

"Afraid it might scupper your prospects of making a brilliant marriage?" mocked Captain Prince, rising from his seat and pacing towards her with slow and deadly intent. "Concerned for your spotless reputation? Or just worried that you might...like it."

She tried to turn away from him as he drew level with her chair, but he caught both hands deftly and pulled her to her feet, flush against him.

"Is that it, Kitty?" he murmured, his voice pitched almost inaudibly low. "You don't want to admit to yourself that this is what you want; what you need. A man who can be master of you, and keep you satisfied in every way?"

Kitty made an inchoate noise in her throat. The pirate's inflaming words had hit their target unerringly, and now, coupled with his proximity and that damned irresistible leathery scent, she feared her legs might buckle beneath her. 

"You think you want some perfumed popinjay who will bow and scrape and fall over his feet to attend to your every whim. But that is not what you need, Kitty. You need a firm hand. I can give you that. I can give you that and much, much more. You will be very well taken care of, I promise you. What do you say?"

Kitty was struggling to breathe. She longed to give in, to swoon into Prince's strong arms and devolve all responsibility for her life to him. It would be easy, so easy. But eighteen years of having her own way in all things had lain down certain well-worn pathways of strong will and pridefulness. She could feel the internal struggle almost as a physical fight, opposite forces pulling and pushing her hither and thither.

"Let me make your decision less painful," he whispered, and before Kitty knew it, he had a hand at her nape and he had swooped down on her unprepared lips. By the time he had eased her mouth open to drive in his exploring tongue, her lifelong adherence to the conviction of her supremacy had been banished; and by the time he had swept it around every crevice of that sweet cavity, and sucked the last drop of moisture from her chafed and swollen lips, all vestiges of indecision had been convincingly routed. She would be his. No question of it existed any longer.

A sighing surrender floated through her body, untying all the knots of tension, and she stepped forward, signalling that he could have her. His own body responded by signifying his possession of her, clutching her closer in to him and patting her bottom. He released her lips and chuckled into the delicate skin of her neck. "I knew you had hot blood in you, my girl," he growled. "Let's to bed."

*

Thrown down on to the mattress, Kitty looked up at her seducer tremulously, eyes reflecting a mixture of fear and desire. He knelt down beside the bed and took one of her hands, just as he had earlier, caressing it gently in a way that both calmed and stimulated her nerves. It was taking a superhuman effort of self-control for the Captain not to ravish her straightaway; having had her naked form parading before him for the last two days, he was more than ready to take full advantage of it.

He did not want to frighten her, though; at least, not yet. "What do you understand of my intentions for this night, Kitty?" he asked softly, having to look away from her rosily erect nipples with some force.

"You will make me your mistress," she whispered.

"But do you know what that involves? What I will do to you?"

"Not...really. I mean, I know men and women are differently composed. And a man...somehow...enters a woman." Kitty was blushing furiously. All she knew was what she had overheard in the stables once when the hired hands were sharing ribald anecdotes. She remembered the agony of despair it had brought upon her, to think that she would one day have to experience the coarse act they described in such vague but vulgar terminology. It was not fitting for a lady.

This was different, though, with the Captain. Although he was a pirate, there was an air about him infinitely more refined than most men. It was strange. And she had wanted him to touch her back there in the cabin. She had never wanted to be touched in that way before. Was this what the Bible warned against when it mentioned lust? Did she feel lust for this brigand?

"That is right, Kitty. The man enters the woman; you will learn exactly how. I will teach you."

"I've heard it's painful...the first time," she blurted, crooking her fingers around his and clinging hard.

"It can be, though if the man is skilful enough, he can ease the pain, and even cancel it out with pleasure. I will prepare you well, Kitty, and will not take you until you are ready. You need have nothing to fear."

"What should I do?"

The Captain stood and began to take off his clothes, first unstrapping the quantity of sword belts and holsters about his chest.

"Just do as I say, Kitty. I will not demand anything extraordinary of you."

"Have you done this many times?"

The Captain laughed, pulling his shirt over his head to reveal his lean sculpted chest, lightly scarred and peppered with black hairs.

"Enough to know what I'm doing, my dear."

Kitty fell silent, mesmerised by his businesslike removal of garments. The boots came off next, followed by the brisk unbuckling of his belt. Standing before her in just his tight black trousers, she had to admit he was magnificent. Her throat was dry with longing at the sight of him; she knew he was going to ravish her in fine style.

Before taking off this last bastion of decency, Captain Prince came to kneel on the bed in front of her. Thanks to the steamy kissing and her sprawling nudity on his bed, his cock was already making a brazen bid to punch itself through the fabric of his britches. He felt the need to preface its release with an advance warning.

"I don't know if you've ever seen a man's equipment, Kitty, but you should be aware that mine is...substantial...compared with the average size."

He unbuttoned his fly and Kitty sat bolt upright, eyes agog.

"Is that what you have to...put in me?" she gasped, clenching her thighs together with dread.

"Don't take fright," said the Captain with a smile. "You will find it gives you satisfaction."

Kitty scrambled backwards up the cushions, but the authoritarian pirate simply pursued her, finding her hands and pulling her up to sit facing his kneeling figure. Practised fingers found their way under her chin and effected a renewal of his possession of her lips, while the other arm clamped her waist tightly against him so that she felt the hard obstruction of his stiffness against her stomach.

The kiss was long, hard and demanding, bringing Kitty to the required state of captive submission. She yielded to the further explorations of his lips, teeth and tongue around her jaw, behind her ear, on her neck, feeling her insides squirm and twist in helpless need. Oh, none of those stable boys or maidservants had ever mentioned how good this felt; how rushingly addictive, how headily powerful. The dampness at her centre was spreading to her thighs and she wanted to suck in his heat and his scent and his sureness of touch, to assimilate it into her.

One hand at her back, he eased her down to lie in his shade, moving his hands to the generous mounds of her breasts, touched for the first time.

"Oh, these are glorious, Kitty," he murmured, and Kitty arched her back with shock when he brushed the rough pads of his thumbs against her throbbingly stiff nipples. "Hmm, and your nipples are as hard as the bullets in my blunderbuss. Do you know what that means?"

"Ooh...no, Captain." 

"It means you like what I am doing to you, my lady." Kitty felt hot and slightly humiliated at his triumphal tone. She was not exactly putting up much of a fight for her virtue. But when a man's touch was this enticing what could a lady do? Oh.... He bent and kissed the tip of each nipple, then he buried his face between the pert hillocks so that she felt his hair and the prickle of his stubble against the tender flesh. She was concentrating on this so hard that she lost track of what he was doing with his hands.

She was stunned into realisation when their southward path passed her navel, then her stomach, ending squarely on her thighs, either side of her melting core. The Captain gave each nipple a final lusty licking, then moved back between her legs to inspect the new kingdom he shortly intended to conquer.

"Well, Kitty, were I inclined to doubt your nipples, what I find down here certainly corroborates their story. You are generating enough love juices to accommodate an army."

Kitty baulked at his sardonic tone and tried to sit up but he easily pushed her back down again, dropping his head down to her musky delta in order to map out the territory in full. He took a lungful of her erotically charged scent and parted her damp labia with long fingers, tracing each fold with meticulous care.

Kitty's juices flowed more copiously still under these merciless ministrations, feeling tickled to the point of madness. The consciousness of being wide open to his unflinching gaze rendered every sensation so much more acute; she was spread for him and could hide nothing of herself. When his advance reached the tender bud at the centre of her female petals she moaned with longing for him to continue. He attended to it for a few minutes, heeding her increasingly unhinged cries, then he withdrew his fingers – she yelped a sharp 'Nooo' – and brought his tongue down to replace them. In the few seconds it took Kitty to realise what was happening, he inserted one, then two fingers into her virgin opening, plying the channel to assess its level of preparation. Oh, she was tight, but she would stretch for him. Kitty was too crazed with arousal from the Captain's wicked tongue to even remark on the invasive digits, and as they prodded at her obstructive membranous wall, she was bucking and gasping into her first ever climax at a man's hands.

"Good girl, Kitty," he breathed approvingly on to her swollen clitoris after the wave had crashed over her. "You are very receptive; deliciously wanton. You will be an excellent fuck."

Kitty had no idea what he was talking about but it sounded rather like a series of backhanded compliments at the very least. He was saying she was easy to bed, it seemed. She wanted to deny it, but how could she?

"Well, my lady, you are certainly ready for me," he told her, preparing to mount. "Be reassured; I will take it slowly and gently this first time." 

Kitty's thighs could not spread any wider and her hips had been tilted slightly upwards to meet the purple tip of the Captain's sword. Keeping a grip on her pelvis, her pirate deflowerer stroked his cock's swelled head up and down his conquest's well-lubricated slit before resting it against the tiny aperture he was set on breaching.

Kitty felt a frisson of fear at the rigid bluntness seeking admission. She was too small and he too large; it was not going to be possible. Surely he should just withdraw and accept this? Why was he pushing?

He edged the first half-inch of his instrument into her minuscule eyelet. She let out a great cry of distress. "Oh, please, Captain, surely you will cleave me in twain!"

"No, Kitty," he said, soft and low. "Do not set your body at odds with me, for it will worsen the pain. Lie back and welcome me inside you."

Kitty began to mewl and he fell forward, silencing her with a deep, distracting kiss while his weapon marched on, very slowly but inexorably, refusing to allow any stalling tactic or rejection from the lady whose walls were being so stingingly stretched. One hand closed around her wrists, which he kept pinned above her head, while the other held on to a hip, keeping her in place for the slow slide towards her maidenhead. Ah, it was here. He made sure his grip on Kitty was as firm as it could be before releasing her lips briefly and whispering, "Hold on, love; this will hurt you for a moment."

The thrashing and wailing he had anticipated soon stilled once the quick stabbing pain of his thrust abated. "Good girl, brave girl, it is done, Kitty; I have taken your maidenhead," he crooned reassuringly. She continued to wriggle and squirm with discomfort, but he overrode her protests and swarmed all the way up her untried channel until he was fully sheathed.

"I can't...please don't..." she fluttered weakly, but for the Captain the pleasures of the night were just beginning.

"Kitty, ssshhh. I will turn this pain to rapture for you, I promise." He held himself still and quiet for a while, permitting her some time to accustom herself to the alien sensation of this enormous intrusion in her belly. "You are mine now," he told her, and he began an achingly slow retreat, just an inch or so back, before filling her entirely again. "How does it feel?" he asked.

"It is not comfortable," she complained. "I fear you have damaged me irreparably."

The Captain laughed and repeated his in-and-out move, the distance travelled a little longer this time.

"Well, your maidenhead has gone; that could be construed as irreparable damage of a sort. But you will soon grow to enjoy this feeling of fullness, Kitty. Embrace it."

Kitty privately doubted she could ever take delight in having herself painfully split by an invasive length of hard flesh but she did not voice her thought. Instead she gritted her teeth and held her body stiff, waiting for the Captain to finish this ordeal. He maintained his small, focused movements up and down her still-stretching channel, taking his time until he could feel the heightened lubrication and give that he needed before he could make this pleasurable for Kitty. The friction was maddeningly sweet, but he had to control himself if he did not want to turn his new mistress off sex; he had many plans for Kitty, and most of them required her co-operation.

After many minutes of patient to-and-fro, he sensed a sea-change in Kitty's responses. Rather than the suffering grimaces her face had been sporting, her muscles were beginning to relax and her eyes to glaze. The passage, still exquisitely tight, was yielding more easily to his pushes. He capitalised immediately on this alteration, moving one hand to her rosy clit and gently stimulating it between finger and thumb.

"Mmmmm," the first sound of positive appreciation, brokenly low down in Kitty's throat.

"Do you like that, Kitty?" he asked darkly, daring a harder thrust into his lady's depths. "You'll be getting a lot more of it, trust me. I will keep your high-born little pussy filled morning, noon and night."

Kitty arched her back and sighed, granting licence to her masterful lover to take her as he wished. The Captain began to deepen his strokes, fucking her in earnest now, building a heated pressure that drove Kitty onwards and upwards into a place of excruciating ravishment, unbearable bliss. His fingers never tired of their tormenting dance around her spread folds, and as he pulled almost all the way out to ram himself back in, she began to kick her legs in anxiety at the immense wall of sensation for which she was heading at full tilt, screaming as she hit it with astonishing force.

"Yes, Kitty, come for me," hissed the Captain, feeling the grasping clutch of her velvety flesh around his rod, sucking the seed from him and throwing him into his own delirious climax. This was going to be good; it was going to be very good. She was going to take everything he had to offer and more.

He kissed her face all over and waited until he was fully detumescent before flopping out of her and inspecting the bloodstained sheet and the pink-tinged semen coating her thighs and her sex. The mark of his ownership, he thought with satisfaction. He took a cloth and wiped her skin and his cock, cleaning the worst of the mess off the bed.

Kitty felt drowsy and dazed. She throbbed down below and imagined that any movement would bring discomfort, but at the same time she felt utterly enraptured. It was as if she had emerged from a half-life into a vivid and sensual reality. The Captain was her Captain, the commander of her body; he had taken something of hers that she could never now have back.

She allowed herself to nestle in his strong arms as he pulled the covers over them, having extinguished the lamp. "You will sleep well tonight, Kitty," he rumbled into her ear, his hands running through her hair and massaging her scalp. She snuggled closer, already drifting away into slumber. The Captain chuckled as her breathing grew heavier. He had exhausted the poor girl. And this was but a foretaste of things to come. She would need to work on her stamina.



Rum, Sodomy and the Lash Ch. 06



Kitty yawned and stretched her limbs, wondering for a vague second why they ached so. She froze mid-yawn as the reason sped, alarums clanging, to the forefront of her consciousness. She was no longer a maiden. The continued dull throbbing between her legs was testament to that. She had lain with the Captain, and they were not even married. She inclined her neck slightly to look at him, snoring away, slumbering with one hand on his dagger, as was his habit. Was mutiny or murder such an ever-present danger? Kitty shivered at the thought. Was she at risk by association? What had she been thinking, in consenting to become his mistress? Not that he had exactly sought her consent. He had just presented her with his version of her future and expected her to go along with it. The presumptuous swine.

Indignation began to simmer in Kitty's bloodstream once more at the thought of what she had given away to this opportunistic blackguard. It was truly insupportable that he should expect her to just meekly fall into his bed whenever he felt one of those....male urges. She wondered how long it would be before they anchored. Surely she would be able to get away and make a new life in Spain or Italy. How hard could it be?

As she lay musing, eyes on the wooden ceiling, the Captain shifted beside her and threw an arm across her chest. She huffed and frowned at the strong forearm with its itchy covering of fine black hairs. Those rings might be worth something though.... When they docked in Barcelona or Genoa, they could set her up in her new life. She was smiling, head full of plans, when the Captain's eyes opened and his sensual mouth broadened into a lazy grin.

"Mmmm," he said, pulling her over against him. "I knew there was something worth waking early for." Kitty's face was buried in his rough dark hair, then her lips were swallowed up in a long and ravenous kiss. She told herself that she was tolerating this as a necessary evil; not allowing herself to accept the truth of the matter, which was that she felt physically compelled towards him.

"How are you feeling today, my lady?" he asked teasingly. "Have I put you out of commission?"

"I am sadly indisposed," pouted Kitty. "I doubt I can even get out of bed."

"How unfortunate," purred Captain Prince, running capable hands over Kitty's strained muscles, squeezing and massaging them gently. It felt good...but Kitty blocked out the positive element and instead snapped back at her lover.

"You are a barbarian, Sir, taking a maid's virginity without a shred of guilt of remorse. Fie upon you!"

"Oh dear," sighed the Captain. "We are to suffer the outraged lady of impeccable virtue act now are we?"

"That is exactly what it is -- an outrage that you have visited upon me!"

"Yes, Kitty, and the first of many," drawled the Captain. "The sooner you accept that you enjoyed last night just as much as I did, the easier your life aboard will be."

"I did not! It was...the worst night of my life!"

The Captain laughed out loud. "Your cries last night were not of distress, Kitty, unless I am very much mistaken."

Kitty coloured furiously and attempted to twist away, turning her back on him, but his hold on her prevented this.

"Come, Kitty, let us kiss and play," he growled in her ear. "Since you are sore below, I will not press you now, but you can be assured that you will be greeting most mornings with your legs spread wide, my dear."

Kitty gave a muffled squeak of rage, quickly quietened by the descent of the Captain's mouth on hers again. Once she had been kissed into docility, he made a slow trail down from her jaw with his tongue, running it down her neck, over her collarbone, through the valley of her breasts, over the curve of her stomach and finally right down...oh! Kitty writhed as his hot breath drifted over her intimate parts, then he kissed the sore and swollen lips, then ran his tongue along them so very carefully until it arrived at the precious pearl in their centre. Kitty moaned. He was licking and lapping at it greedily, and his bristly stubble was causing minuscule bursts of ticklish pleasure into flame around it. This was surely sinful and wrong...this was surely humiliating and he should not be allowed to use her thus....but it felt so divine she could hardly bear it. She arched her back, thrusting herself into his face, and a low chuckle vibrated tormentingly against her widespread sex. He was holding her thighs to keep her open and she made a move to close them, but to no avail.

"I see you like what my tongue does to you, Kitty," he crooned against her clit. "Don't you?"

Kitty's pride prevented the admission passing her lips.

"Shall I stop then?" He knelt up, looming over her with an eyebrow raised.

"No!" she cried in a panic. "Please. I do like it."

He laughed again and dived back down, finishing the job off with skilled enthusiasm and only coming back up when her shapely legs had thrashed and kicked their climax out no less than three times.

"You taste so sweet, I could eat you all day," drawled the Captain, pulling her up to sit. "But now I need your help with something." He nodded down at the morning erection which had been stubbornly making its presence felt for the last half hour. "Touch it, Kitty."

"Oh...I hardly dare to..."

"Touch it." He took hold of her hand and wrapped it around his shaft, guiding her in an up and down stroking motion at first, then leaving her to continue alone. Kitty was irritated at her task. It tired her arm and she was hungry for her breakfast. This man thought she was some kind of servant. She went at it fiercely for a while, hoping that the vigour of her performance would bring him to a conclusion, but when this tactic failed, she fell into a lacklustre rhythm, her face a mask of resentment.

"Kitty," said the Captain warningly. "You are happy to be given pleasure, but loth to give it, I discern. You are a selfish lover. I may have to break you of that tendency, young lady."

"It takes so long," she sulked. "I am hungry."

"You will attend to me properly or you can expect a spanking directly after breakfast, Kitty. Your choice."

Kitty rolled her eyes to the ceiling, flexed her shoulders determinedly, and decided to give the Captain's hand job her full attention. It was true, he had been most unselfish in his pleasuring of her; she supposed he had a point. When, a few minutes later, he unleashed pearlescent ropes of his seed all over her breasts and belly, he growled, "Much better, Kitty, you are learning well."

She grimaced with disgust at the state of her body and requested a bucket of water to wash it off with, but her lover refused. "You will wear it all day until I bathe you tonight. I mean to have you marked as mine in as many ways as I can, and that is just one. Here is another...." He leant forward and began to suck hard at the tender flesh of her neck; the feeling was ravishingly intense and Kitty's mouth dropped open wantonly, spurring him on in his endeavour by rolling her head away from him to expose the maximum amount of available skin. Even when it became painful, Kitty did not want to pull away and when he ultimately drew back again she was strangely disappointed. He surveyed his handiwork with contentment, brushing a light fingertip against the livid red blemish he had left.

"Mine," he said with satisfaction. "And now all may know it. Come, let us take breakfast."

*

When the Captain left to attend to his piratical business after breakfast, Kitty made a beeline for the desk drawers and chests that lined the luxurious cabin. A treasure trove of gems, coins and expensive plate was concealed within, more than enough to set one up in a new city. Kitty sat back and plotted the morning away. It would be a fortnight or more before they came to shore again; she could play the meek mistress for that long. But she would need clothes...and some way of slipping out under the Captain's nose. Perhaps Tom would help her...perhaps he would come with her! A young man would be valuable company, especially when conducting business with the merchants of her new city. She resolved that she would let him in on her plan as soon as she was able to see him alone.

*

Opportunities to see Tom alone were few and far between in that first demanding, exhausting week. The Captain kept her prisoner, locked in his cabin suite, so he was the only person she saw from one day to the next. She was made to submit to his bedroom requirements three, four or even five times a day; each new dawn brought a new manner of humiliation. One time she might be ordered to take his appendage in her mouth; another she would be expected to sit in his chair, legs spread, and finger herself. She resisted each new indignity strenuously, but always ended up with a sore backside for her troubles. Indeed, such time as she wasn't spending flat on her back underneath the Captain was generally passed face-down over his knee.

The only time she saw Tom all week was under circumstances she would prefer to erase from her mind. The Captain had her bent over the table after dinner and was plying her passage hard from behind, one hand at her nipples and the other slapping her arse cheeks in rhythm with his thrusts.

"You've the tightest little cunny in Christendom, Kit," he was growling lustily while she shivered with the intensity of her need for him and pushed herself all the way back against his pelvis. "And by God you know how to use it."

Kitty moaned and twisted her neck, then gripped the table until her knuckles were white at the sight of Tom entering the room and, eyes downcast, clearing the plates, behaving for all the world as if the Captain were not riding his mistress half the way to Cape Horn right in front of him.

"Get out, boy," roared Captain Prince. "Can't you see I'm busy? This girl needs a stiff seeing-to and you are interrupting it."

Tom scampered right away, dropping a plate to the floor with a clang in his haste.

Kitty dropped her head to the table and clutched her hair.

"Back to work, Kitty," instructed the Captain with a sharp slap to her rear again. Dazed, she lifted her head and summoned up the will to continue from somewhere deep and low in the core of her being. The Captain had this effect on her.



Rum, Sodomy and the Lash Ch. 07



Over the next few days the Occidental Orchid was becalmed in the Bay of Biscay, the weather being too placid for much progress. Aside from a notable morning's robbing of a passing Portuguese brigantine, these were languid days that stretched out for sultry hours, and the Captain had much time to devote to his captive lady.

As she sat, customarily naked, before his dressing mirror one day, brushing out her lengthening chestnut locks, he approached her from behind and placed a splendid necklace of diamonds and sapphires around her porcelain-fair throat. The Captain smirked at the dreamy sparkle overlaying Kitty's eyes, rivalling that of the gemstones themselves.

"You have an eye for a well-cut stone, my lady," he noted. "What would you sell to get your hands on a piece like this? Your mother? Your virtue? Your country?"

"Indeed, Sir, you misread me," complained Kitty. "You vastly overestimate my cupidity."

"I wonder," teased the Captain. "Your sullen little face lit up at the sight of these jewels. Would that I had the same effect."

"Perhaps if I were with you from choice rather than necessity," said Kitty, her mouth set in a prim line.

The Captain leaned down over her, his face resting on her shoulder, regarding their images in the glass, his angular, beaky features beside her delicate ones.

"Could that ever be, Kitty?" he murmured, his voice caught in her neck. "Could you ever choose to be mine?"

Kitty felt a familiar ferment of desire and anger, pride and lust. His arrogance was simultaneously arousing and infuriating; his sure grasp of exactly how to bring her to heel maddened her and yet it was exciting. She had never felt an attraction of this magnitude before. All the well-born eligible young men she had met at Templecombe or the Bath Pump Rooms had seemed just a parade of indifferent marriageable flesh to her young eyes. But Captain Prince was a man. And what a man. He just happened to be a dastardly villain who was wanted in eight countries.

"Why would I choose to ally myself with a ruffian and a blackguard?" said Kitty, tossing her head tempestuously.

The Captain enclosed her with his arms, cupping a breast in each salt-roughened hand and tweaking her nipples in the way he knew sent a lightning rod of connection to her sex. Kitty shut her eyes, furious at her uncontrollable response to his manipulations.

"Because a ruffian and a blackguard is what you want, Kitty. You want a man who can tame you, and that man is me."

Lubricating dampness veiled Kitty's nether lips and upper thighs as the Captain began nipping and sucking on the tender flesh of her neck and shoulder. One hand continued its work at her nipples while the other drifted lower, seeking out the warm nubbin that was her destruction and her salvation when he made it the centre of her universe by dint of skilful touch. Kitty felt herself as a pliant clay which is moulded into shape, fashioned into a pulsing mass of needful sensation by the endless tormenting of his lips, teeth, tongue, fingers, across and around and within her body.

As if from a distance, she heard her voice, whimpering and pleading with him, until he pulled her upright only to deposit her on the bed on all fours, shivering, spread-legged and awaiting his pleasure. The first new sensation was of his fingers, once more parting and playing with her honeyed treasure trove, delving into each crevice with forensic thoroughness while her bottom wriggled temptingly in his face. He determined then and there that he would possess Kitty in every possible way that night, showing her how profoundly she belonged to him and how serious he was in his intention that she should submit to him completely.

He took one finger, coated with her juices, and rubbed it firmly around the tiny dusky pucker that sat between her bum cheeks, keeping his other hand occupied down below. A small squeak issued from Kitty's stunned lips and she tried to move her bottom away from the threatening attention he was giving but he held her in place with a warning pinch on her clit and continued his devilish work.

"Wh-what are you doing?" she asked, confused. "You can't touch me there!"

"Oh, Kitty, you fancy yourself a woman of the world, but you are quite ignorant of the erotic arts, my dear. Allow me to school you."

Kitty opened her mouth to protest but was shocked into silence by the sudden sheathing of his shaft,coupled with the relentless probing of that rude finger, which threatened to break the surface and worm its way inside her back passage. Kitty did not know whether to moan with satisfaction at the wonderfully deep penetration of his sawing cock or gibber with alarm at the machinations of his finger. He brought more juices up from her gushing core with his other hand and reapplied them to the virgin rosette until he was satisfied that she was fully lubricated. Then his long index finger slipped past the barrier of muscle tissue and rested, virtually unresisted, inside her ring. He began to wiggle it, exploring its width and length and texture, but Kitty began to wail.

"What are you doing? It can't be right. Please stop."

"Stop what, Kitty? Stop this?" asked the Captain with an illustrative thrust of his serpentine cock.

"No, not that. The....other thing..."

"My finger in your arse? Why, that is nothing, my dear; a mere introduction. Wait until it is my cock you are accommodating."

"What?!" yelped Kitty. "Surely you cannot intend..."

"Oh, on the contrary, Kitty, I do intend; I intend very seriously." He slipped a second finger alongside the first and Kitty squealed indignantly, unable to pull herself away while his length was sliding up and down her sex at a breakneck pace.

"You will kill me! I will not stand for it!"

"Dear me, I think you know better than to defy me by now, my lady," warned the Captain with a very salutory thrust, causing Kitty to stretch her eyes wide. "I had planned to take you gently, but if you are going to fight me, I cannot promise that it will be quite so enjoyable as I would like for you."

"Enjoyable?" Kitty was beside herself, trying to vault forward off the Captain's securing manhood, away from these impudent fingers.

"Kitty, you will surrender to my desires or you will be made to. It is as simple as that."

Kitty made one last desperate attempt to kick out behind her and dislodge him. The Captain's free hand fell hard on her left buttock, leaving its pinkened impression on her skin.

"You will be feeling my strap there if you don't settle down, lady," he growled, losing his patience with his unco-operative bedfellow.

Kitty accepted defeat and ceased her bucking protestations. The Captain muttered, "Good girl" and reached for something from his bedside. Oil of some kind. 

"Now this is best Greek olive oil, Kitty, it will ease my passage in your, er, passage. Keep your muscles loose and allow the feelings to take you over. It will hurt very much more if you tense and struggle."

Captain Prince removed his fingers and poured drops of the oil on and around Kitty's unexplored territory. He spent many, many minutes greasing her thoroughly, around and inside the minuscule ring of muscle, until she glistened pinkly and was beginning to feel strangely less averse to the idea. The pressure of his slippery fingers there felt interesting; it seemed that there was some path of connection to her tingling clitoris, and as he continued to move his cock in and out of her female channel at a languid pace, the feeling of fullness was deliciously double.

"I think it will hurt," she whimpered as he drew himself out and placed the well-lubricated tip of his cock against her oiled rear entry.

"It might," said the Captain unreassuringly. "But you will take it all the same. Show me how obedient you are, my love, and hold your cheeks apart for me."

"I would rather not," said Kitty, on the verge of tears of humiliation.

"Would you rather be spanked until you are in a sufficiently obedient frame of mind, Kitty?"

"No, Sir," she wailed, and moved her hands behind her, to spread the fleshy globes so that her well-prepared anal pucker was clearly displayed.

The Captain shifted his equipment, lining it up precisely, and made a very slow push forward. The blunt pressure caused Kitty to try and twist away, but she was held secure around her waist and the Captain let go of his cock to give her a swift spank on her thigh to calm her. She began to breathe erratically in her panic, and tense her sphincter.

"No, Kitty, you will make it painful. Stop this!" The Captain's authoritative tone worked like a charm on Kitty, who responded as he wished, almost without thinking. He was able to forge further ahead, finding that the oil eased his progress even more than he had hoped. Kitty was waiting for the pain, but it was not coming, so effectively had she been prepared. It was not until his thick rod of flesh was almost halfway inside that she felt a sharp sting and howled out loud.

"Please, you must stop now."

"Oh, no, Kitty, this will soon feel better. Much better. I promise you." There was no way the Captain was stopping now, although he could not guarantee that he spoke the truth. The sight of his throbbing pole sliding surely into Kitty's tiny arsehole was irresistibly tempting; he was beyond reason. She was sure to be exaggerating her discomfort, knowing her for the minx she was. No, his conscience was far, far down in the pecking order of mental stimuli at the moment.

She moaned and complained semi-coherently as he packed himself in to the very hilt, amazed that he had managed to fit himself all the way in.

"Oh, Kitty, you are mine now in every way," he proclaimed. "You have the hottest, tightest little back passage I could ever wish for. I shall want this as often as I can."

"Ooooh," gurgled Kitty, overwhelmed by sensation. The Captain had moved a hand down to her clit and began to flick it, sensing that she would need something to focus on away from his presence in her behind. Kitty felt her limbs weakening; her bones dissolving, the more he moved his hard tool carefully up and down inside her. It felt as if all her insides were being dragged along with his member, which was...strange...a little uncomfortable...but not that painful, after the first stab. She began to relax and let the feeling flow over her, coupled with his clitoral stimulation. It felt....oddly powerful, even more so than the more conventional kind of coupling.

The Captain hissed words in her ear as he reamed her out. "This is how I own you, Kitty; you can never forget that I have done this to you. You have to take me very seriously, Kitty, because I have made you mine in the strongest way possible."

It was a matter of a few minutes before Kitty, startled at the suddenness and potency of it, was hurled headlong into screaming climax, the Captain following close behind, grabbing her hips so hard he left bruises as his seed gushed into her burning bum.

"Well done, bravely done, my lady," he crooned into her hair, kissing her neck, her face and her lips. She lay flattened beneath him, seeing stars, wondering if she could ever break free of his terrifying, sweet mastery of her.



Rum, Sodomy and the Lash Ch. 08



It was like a vision of heaven, thought Kitty, as she watched the city of Barcelona unfold from distant smudge to clear definition over a period of an hour or so. She knew that Captain Prince had business here in the rookeries of the Raval district, and she also knew that this might be her best chance of escaping his maddening personal and sexual despotism and living her own life, however hazardous.

She had a pair of britches and a promise of a rowing boat from Tom; she had a bag of cunningly compiled treasures from the Captain's cabin, and she had picked up a couple of names of gem dealers from conversations she had overheard between Prince and his first mate. She had an opportunity. She was going to take it.

"So here we are, my dear," purred the Captain, standing behind her as she leant over the bulwarks, drinking in the scene. "One of the busiest sea ports on the Meditteranean, and an excellent place to do business. You know, I may even take you out to dinner in one of the fine seafood restaurants on the shore. Would you like that, my lady? You can wear the emeralds."

"That would be most pleasant, Captain," gushed Kitty, who had played the part of submissive mistress to perfection over the past fortnight. The Captain had been suspicious of her sweet passivity at first, but had soon grown accustomed to her demeanour and taken full advantage of it.

"Good," he said, dropping a kiss of approval on to the top of her head. "I'll go and give the order to weigh anchor. I suggest you go inside and prepare for lunch."

Kitty watched the Captain stride off to shout orders and rubbed her small hands together gleefully. Her moment had come. She raced inside the cabin and donned the britches and peaked cap Tom had stuffed inside her pillowslip. Then she took the pillowslip itself and stuffed an assortment of fine jewellery, plate and tobacco inside, tying it tight with cord and slinging it over her shoulder. She paused only for a second or two, to check her appearance in the glass and rectify any traces of over-femininity. No, she would do.

Her heart was lodged inconveniently in her throat and pulsing fit to disable her breathing as she skirted the cabin around to the aft of the boat, away from all the action.

"Tom!" she hailed the young man, who was hopping about in an agony of fear, holding on to a thick rope that dangled over the side of the vessel, down to a waiting rowing boat.

"Please be quick!" he pleaded, his voice cracking. "They'll be back here in ten minutes or so."

"Sure you won't come with me?" asked Kitty with an enticing wink, but Tom shook his head.

"The Captain will take it out on my family. I can't risk it."

Kitty shinned spryly down the rope and dropped into the boat. She had only rowed in a leisurely fashion on the lake in the grounds of Templecombe before and hoped she would have enough command of the oars to get to the quayside before she was reported missing. It was a long shot. But she thought it was worth it.

Her arms ached grievously, and she was tempted to throw the oars aside and just drift numerous times...but each time she looked back at the proud silhouette of the Occidental Orchid and was spurred on by vivid imaginings of exactly how the Captain would repay her disobedience. Half an hour later, exhausted and with limp arms, she dragged herself up the stone steps to the harbourside, gripping on to her pillowcase of riches for grim death and looking about the hurlyburly for a way out to the city.

Before she had even penetrated the thick wall of maritime humanity, an ill-favoured and unkempt man had sidled up alongside her and asked, "You come from Captain Prince? He send you?"

Kitty stared at him, calculating the most strategic reply to make. While her brain was ticking over, he spoke again.

"I am Paco; I can take you to Martinez. He want to see what you have; he very look forward to see your treasures. He can pay many moneys."

That made Kitty's decision for her. One thing she had to organise straight away was finance. Martinez was obviously somebody who had done business with the Captain in the past, and if she could pass herself off as his emissary, she could earn herself some easy money.

"Yes," barked Kitty with ersatz gruffness. "Prince sent me. He would have come himself but he's laid up with...scurvy."

"This way, Sir," bowed Paco obsequiously, ushering Kitty away past the hoiking and hollering of the quayside, past the feverish industry of the boatyards and into the walled city, through teeming slums by the side of the docks. Kitty craned her neck up to catch a glimpse of sky between the sheer faces of the buildings lining the dank alleyways up which they scurried. She could not help but feel vulnerable in the midst of such grinding poverty, knowing that her backpack contained enough to feed these waifs for the rest of their lives. The stench of disease flowed out of each doorway and over the cobbles, even emanating from the skirts of the dockside whores, a few of whom made suggestions to Kitty that she fortunately could not interpret.

After a number of twists and turns, Paco led Kitty through a blank doorway and down a dark staircase to a basement room lit by a couple of gaslamps and no daylight. He rattled off a rapid succession of sentences in a language Kitty did not understand – she did not even think it was Spanish – and a man emerged from the gloom, smiling sinisterly.

"Hello," he said in strongly accented English. "I was expecting your Captain. Who are you? You are from the Occidental Orchid, yes?"

"Yes," confirmed Kitty, suddenly overwhelmed with fear. What on earth was she doing? These were not people to be trifled with. Surely they would work out that she was just a clueless girl and leave her for dead in this murky underground cavern. She fought back an urge to start crying and said, "My name is Tom. Captain Prince sent me; he is unwell. I have many treasures for you to look at."

The man stepped further into the flickering light and Kitty began to discern his features. He was quite tall for a Spaniard, of a lean, hard build with hawkishly sharp features. His brown eyes were alert, his lips thin and cruel and he sported three earrings in his left lobe. On his right forearm Kitty noticed a tattoo of an eagle flying amongst the whipcord tendons.

"You are just a boy," objected Martinez. "Prince would not insult me by having me do business with children."

"I am not a child," asserted Kitty. "Please let me show you what I have."

Martinez nodded and gestured for Paco to bring Kitty a chair. "I have cognac," he offered. "And cigars. Even opium, if you like that."

"Oh...no, not for me. I would like some wine, perhaps?" Even as she said it, Kitty bit her tongue. Now of all times she needed a clear head.

"Muy bien. Paco! Wine!"

Kitty sat down and faced Martinez fiercely.

"Well, then, niño, show me what you have," murmured the Spaniard.

Kitty emptied her sack on to his table. He raised an eyebrow and made little crooning sounds in the back of his throat that frightened Kitty far more than anything he could have said.

"This is nice," he said. "Very nice. But Prince mentioned more. Why is he holding back? Where is the rest?"

"He wanted to bring the rest in person. He will be well again soon. Two, three days. Can you wait or would you like me to bring it myself?" The confidence in Kitty's tone was very far from heartfelt. She felt as if she had jumped ship at midnight and was floundering in dark, shark-infested seas with no hope of finding a way out.

"I prefer not to wait," hissed Martinez, clearly insulted for some reason. "I will tell you what, boy. I keep this here until you show up with the rest. Not a peseta will change hands today. You bring me the other things tomorrow without fail or I keep this as a free gift. Prince needs my goodwill more than I need his, you understand?"

Kitty leapt up, alarm etched across her face. "No!" she cried, and Martinez stood opposite her, drawing a blade from somewhere. Oh Christ. She could not fight him; she had no weapon and he would work out that she was a girl. Bloody hell, what now?

"I need money now," she told him desperately. "I have stolen this from Prince – there is no more. Give me what it's worth and I'll....be very grateful."

Martinez chuckled slowly and not at all reassuringly. "A little thief," he said throatily. "Even more reason why I should not give you anything. Captain Prince would not appreciate that, would he? And I value his trade."

Kitty scooped an armful of the best pieces up from the table and hurtled at full pelt towards the door, having no idea how she would deal with Paco when she got there, but giving it a game go all the same. In two strides, Martinez had caught up with her and crooked a steely arm around her throat, his blade touching her skin while his other hand pinioned her upper arm painfully. She screamed piercingly and he almost dropped the knife.

"You aren't a boy, are you?" he exclaimed, his voice exultant. 

"I've told her before, she makes a very unconvincing male," drawled a familiar voice from the foot of the stairs. Seconds later the imposing figure of Captain Prince filled the doorframe. 

Kitty did not know whether to laugh or cry. Despite the mocking curl of his lip in a feline smile, it was clear from his eyes that he was furious with her. Her shoulders slumped and she stared at the floor. Martinez took the knife from her throat and let her flop listlessly forward.

"Captain!" he exclaimed, clapping Prince on the shoulder and kissing both cheeks. Prince did not return the gesture, but took Martinez's hand firmly in his and greeted him with apparent warmth.

"Please accept my apologies for the inconvenience this silly girl has put you to," he said to Martinez, who shrugged in an open, villains-together gesture of forgiveness.

"It was no trouble; just a little amusement to pass a dull day," grinned his Spanish counterpart. "Now I look at her properly, I see she is very pretty. I wish I'd worked it out sooner..."

Prince's smile became a little less genuine then faded altogether.

"Please stay and eat with me," invited Martinez. "Paco! Go up to Xavier's and get me a zarzuela sent over. I need the good sherry too." Paco loped off up the stairs. "I always think you should mix business with pleasure." At the word 'pleasure' a lingering look was directed at Kitty, who maintained her stiff, petrified stance.

"There is certainly business to be done," nodded the Captain. Clapping Kitty on the shoulder he ordered her to stand facing the wall until he was ready to deal with her. Kitty shuffled over and faced the cold tiles that lined the room, crossing her fingers that nothing too appalling awaited her in the line of punishment. A faint hope, she had to admit.

Agonising scenarios played a continuous shadow-theatre in her head while she stood vaguely listening to the men talk commerce. After half an hour or so of haggling and discussion of the easiest fleets to rob, a delicious smell of cooked fish wafted over and she knew that the food had arrived. She heard the uncorking of bottles and glugging of liquid, the clashing of cutlery. She realised in a rush that she was very, very hungry, but had been too wound up with adrenaline and terror to acknowledge it. She longed for a bowl of the seafood stew and her hopes picked themselves out of the trench where they had been languishing when Martinez said, "We have plenty – perhaps the girl could take a bowl with us?"

But the Captain kicked them back down with a terse, "I think not; she is to stand there and contemplate her fate until I am ready."

Martinez tutted sympathetically. "Is she your mistress?" he asked curiously.

"She is a stowaway who thinks she can outwit me and play me at my own game. I have been bedding her, but she thinks herself much too good for the likes of me. It is time she were taken down a peg or two."

Kitty did not like the sound of this; and being discussed in this way while she was physically present was making the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. 

"She is pretty. Good figure," said Martinez approvingly. "Even in those ragged britches, her arse looks shapely. I would love to see what her tits are like under that baggy shirt too."

"Well, then you shall," said the Captain expansively. "Kitty, take off your shirt."

"I..." gasped a stunned Kitty.

"Or should I say, take off my shirt," continued Prince implacably. "Do as you are told, my lady, unless you want me to remove it for you."

Kitty hesitated, then wriggled out of the garment, holding it over her breasts at her front.

"You may turn around so that Senor Martinez can have a good look at you."

Kitty stalled for time as long as she dared, then slowly half-circled to face the avid Spaniard.

"Drop the shirt; show him your breasts. No need for false modesty; every man on my crew has seen them."

Kitty's lifeless fingers let the silky fabric flutter to the floor. She put her arms down at her sides and stared rigidly ahead while Martinez stepped up to her, making admiring noises.

"Guapa!" he exclaimed. "The nipples stand out so strongly, and their colour is perfect."

"You may handle them if you wish," offered the Captain in a bored tone, and Kitty turned her face away sharply as the rough Catalan weighed the globes of flesh in practised hands. "Surprisingly heavy, aren't they?"

Martinez continued to knead for all he was worth, flicking his thumb across one nipple then the other while his heavy breath warmed Kitty's face and neck. "I don't know when I've seen a finer pair," he said hoarsely.

"She is an enticing little package altogether," said the Captain. "Would you like to see more?"

"Oh, I would, I certainly would like that," breathed Martinez.

"Sit back down then and pour me another glass of sherry, if you would be so kind. Kitty. Take off your britches."

Kitty's eyes popped wide and she stood stock still, hoping that she had simply misheard or was entering a surreal realm of waking nightmare. But no.

"I want you fully stripped, Kitty. You can disobey me, but I wouldn't advise it, considering the severe punishment you already have coming to you."

Surely this is punishment enough of itself, Kitty wanted to object. But, as if mesmerised, she unbuckled the belt and lowered the britches to her ankles, having no underwear beneath. She stepped delicately out of them and stood, head lowered, before the appreciative diners.

"Turn and show us your bum, Kitty," commanded the Captain, and she did as he bade her.

"Beautiful," endorsed Martinez. "It is so round and soft, such skin like cream."

"Hm, it will be red enough later," grunted the Captain. "Touch it, Martinez. Give it a good squeeze."

Martinez grabbed a plentiful handful of each cheek and followed Prince's dictates, stroking from her tailbone down to the crease of her thighs and running one finger along the central crack until the Captain judged that it was time to move on.

"Now then, Kitty, sit up on the table in front of Senor Martinez and open your legs so that he can see your juicy little pussy. What are you waiting for? That's it...nice and wide....he wants to see everything you have to offer, my dear."

"My God," said Martinez in awe, "I can smell her. I can see how wet she is. She has a gorgeous pussy; what a fine dessert it would make."

Kitty's eyes were screwed shut and her face aflame, but she could not deny that this forcible exhibition she was making of herself was arousing her, even against her higher judgement.

"It is tighter and hotter than you could ever dream of, Martinez," murmured the Captain, "and that is only slightly less tight and hot than her rear entry." 

Martinez gasped and stared voraciously at Kitty's display, looking up at the Captain as if to accuse him of torture.

"You take her that way as well? Holy saints and angels, you are a lucky man. I want to feel it..."

"No," cautioned the Captain, holding up his hand. "She might be a wanton ungrateful little whore, but she's my wanton ungrateful little whore. Her most intimate parts are for my possession alone."

Martinez looked as if he might put a knife to Prince's throat for a second, but he settled back in his chair and waved his hand, conceding the point.

"I think she owes you a substantial apology though," said the Captain, cutting into Kitty's short-lived relief. "And I think she should make expiation for the waste of your precious time she has been guilty of. Kitty, please place yourself across Senor Martinez's lap."

"What?!" chorused two voices, one startled, one alarmed.

"Don't you think she has earned herself a spanking, Martinez? Be my guest. Take as long as you need."

"Very well," said Martinez with relish. "Come here, then, guapa." He slapped his thigh.

Kitty closed her thighs and slipped off the table, shooting one last desperate look at the Captain, who stared piercingly and uncompromisingly back. She dropped obediently over the Spaniard's lap and gritted her teeth. Surely he could not spank as hard as the Captain.

He did not, but he took his time, heating up both sides of her bottom with plentiful swats and moving down her thighs almost as far as her knees. He seemed to take pride in the thoroughness of his coverage and occasionally deferred to the Captain's running commentary of suggestions, laying it on harder in certain areas, and speeding up the pace when Kitty seemed too relaxed. Halfway through the performance, Paco and a couple of other swarthy rogues appeared in the doorway and observed proceedings with remarks and jokes whose vulgarity Kitty could thankfully not translate.

Martinez kept up his blistering assault for the time it took Captain Prince to take two glasses of finest Amontillado, finally relenting when the bottle was drained. Kitty lay, on fire and exhausted, across the Spaniard's lap, hoping that now she would be offered something to eat or drink.

And she was.

"Well, then, Kitty, Senor Martinez has punished you, and I think it is time you thanked him for his time and energy," said the Captain. "Which you will do on your knees, with your mouth.  If that is acceptable to you, Martinez?"

"Oh, yes," said Martinez greedily, scarcely believing his fortune.

"Oh pleeeeaaaaase," wailed Kitty, but the Captain held firm and gestured her impatiently to her knees. She dropped down to the unforgivingly hard floor and waited for Martinez to unbuckle his belt and pull his leggings down to his ankles. His erection was perhaps not as formidable as Prince's, but it was still of a heft to be taken seriously.

Kitty wrinkled her nose at the stale sweaty smell emanating from Martinez's dense pubic hair, screwed her eyes tightly shut and bobbed down over the empurpled helmet of this instrument of torment.

"Properly, Kitty," reminded the Captain languidly, perfectly impervious to her suffering. "As I've taught you. If I catch you going back to your lazy old ways I'll be offering the same service to Paco and his friends."

Kitty breathed in sharply before sealing her lips tightly over Martinez's shaft. He growled appreciatively and sat back, enjoying the unexpected bonus. Kitty worked diligently at pleasuring the rascally Catalan, fondling his testicles with practised fingers and flicking her tongue up and down his shaft until he hissed with the imminence of his climax.

"Are you ready to drink it down, Kitty?" rasped the Captain, sensing Martinez's closeness to his goal. "Take it all, and then you can thank him with words as well as your hot little mouth."

Martinez spurted his thick, sour emission all the way down Kitty's throat. Her stomach churned but she swallowed every drop, then withdrew gracefully and murmured, "Thank you, Senor."

"De nada," gasped Martinez, his face flushed and eyes sparkling. "Any time."




Rum, Sodomy and the Lash Ch. 08



"Well, Martinez, I think our business here is done," said the Captain, leaning over and shaking his limp hand. "Kitty, put on your shirt. The britches you can leave."

"But..." The Captain added his handprint smartly to her already glowing bottom.

"No buts. You're in enough trouble."

She shrugged the white shirt over her head, trying vainly to pull the hem down far enough to cover the flaming evidence of her spanking. The Captain sent her on her way to the door with another firm smack and she squealed her way up the stairs as he continued in this vein.

Once they were back out in the fetid alleys of El Raval, he slung her over his shoulder and carried her all the way to the dock, continuing to punctuate the journey with random swats to her smarting bum regardless of the curiosity of the passers-by. Mortified as she was, Kitty was more preoccupied with what might be to come than the considerable humiliation of her present position.

He spanked her all the way to the rowing boat, where he sat down, put her across his knee and spanked her some more before making the short journey back to the Occidental Orchid.

"What do you mean to do with me, Sir?" asked Kitty in a shaky voice once they were back in the familiar cabin again.

"You have all night to think about that, my lady," said the Captain grimly, leading her into the bedchamber, stripping off her shirt and fastening her to the bed with the same soft leather restraints she remembered from her first night on board. "And so do I."

With a final resounding smack to her helpless rear, he left the cabin, leaving Kitty to moan softly in her state of bondage and wonder if this was really any kind of reprieve.



Rum, Sodomy and the Lash Ch. 09



The Captain did not join Kitty in his bed that night, leaving her instead to stew miserably and attempt to predict what the next day would bring. 

Shortly after sunrise, the door opened and Kitty strained in her tethers to see what was happening. She heard a body falling on the floor and a terse command to 'Wait there'. Then the door closed. Intrigued and terrified, Kitty manoeuvred her body until she could see the figure of Tom, bound hand and foot, lying on the floor.

"Tom," she hissed in a sharp whisper. "What is going on?"

Tom's voice was weak and croaky as he replied, "He knows it was me, Kitty. That provided the boat and the clothes. I think he means to kill me." The boy broke into harsh sobs and Kitty struggled anew to release herself, but in vain.

"Surely he wouldn't....kill you," she breathed.

"I've seen men walk the plank for less," wept Tom. "Or lose every inch of skin on their back to the cat. Either way, I'm a dead man."

"Oh, Tom, no. I'm so sorry. I'll plead for you with the Captain...if he doesn't mean to kill me as well." Tears welled up in Kitty's eyes as the peril of her situation hit home.

"He will not kill a lady," said Tom. 

Kitty hoped he was right. 

*

An hour later, one of the crew stepped over Tom's prone body to offer Kitty a cup of water and a crust of bread. Despite her fear, she was weak with hunger and her lips were bone dry, so she accepted gratefully, gulping down the refreshments and asking for more.

The crewman shook his head and left.

Having given Kitty half an hour more to digest her breakfast, the Captain sent the crewman back to untether her and bring her through to the cabin.

Kitty was shivering with fear and the cold morning air on her naked body as she looked along the highly polished table to where the Captain sat at its head.

His face was sternly set and his arms folded, but even in this unenviable moment Kitty felt the lancing blow of attraction. Moving her rapt eyes from his scarred cheek and raffish hair, she felt a pulse of dread at the objects ranged before him on the table. An oval-backed hairbrush, his strap and a round-handled rattan cane such as she had seen wielded by her cousin's tutor. She had heard tales of its beastliness but had never thought to experience it at first hand.

"Leave the door open," the Captain bade his crewman, who was about to shut it. "Young Tom will need to hear this. Likewise the door to the deck. You may go." The crewman left.

"Well, Kitty, I was in two minds whether to conduct this morning's proceedings outside in front of the crew..."

Kitty started and whimpered imploringly.

"...But in my mercy, I decided to keep it relatively private...though I imagine they will be in little doubt as to what is happening in here. I haven't heard any words of thanks yet, Kitty."

"Thank you, Sir," she stammered. "But...what will you do to me?"

"I daresay I will give you a little taste of what you deserve, and hope that it will prove sufficient to teach you a lesson you sorely need. Had any man in my crew pulled the stunt you did, Kitty, he would not be alive to tell the tale. I need you to know that it is only your sex that spares you this fate, my dear. I am not a man to be trifled with."

"I know, Sir," she said humbly.

"Clearly you do not, Kitty, for you have done rather more than trifle with me, and you are about to pay the price for your ignorance. Now do you have anything to say to me?"

"I...am truly sorry, Sir. I deeply regret my actions."

"Not as much as you are going to. Well then. I'll have you over my knee to start off with, I think."

Kitty made what seemed like the longest walk of her life over to the Captain's chair and placed herself without complaint across the Captain's hard muscled lap. Without benefit of any warm-up, he reached for the hairbrush and laid straight in, emblazoning her arse with fast slaps. Kitty screwed her eyes up but tried to be strong, accepting in her heart that she had asked for this and resolving to take it compliantly. But it was difficult. The hairbrush was solid and made resounding thwacks against her juddering skin, bringing her to a state of mewling protest much sooner than she had expected. The Captain appeared deaf to her entreaties and continued to belabour her fair backside with enthusiasm, commenting all the while on its increasingly red hue and chiding her for her actions.

Kitty found the scolding coupled with the scalding of her buttocks hard to take; she twisted her neck up to see if the Captain was showing any signs of fatigue but he had not even broken a sweat.

"Oh, there is power in this arm that your previous whippings have only hinted at, Kitty," said the Captain, to her despair, as he continued to wield the brush with hateful assurance. Her resolutions crumbled and she let forth dolorous cries, trying without effect to twist away from his inescapable hail of blows so that he pinned her down with a hand to the small of her back and proceeded to perform the impossible by hitting even harder.

"Please...I can't take it..." she protested, her derriere ablaze, but the Captain chuckled grimly.

"You can, Kitty. You can take much more. And you're going to get much, much more."

She dissolved into defeated sobs, furious with herself at cracking so soon, and flopped limply over the Captain's thighs, taking her punishment in a spirit of agonised resignation.

After ten minutes of this treatment, the Captain put the brush aside and Kitty was led to hope that his powers of endurance were at an end. It was not so, though. He continued the spanking with his hand for another fifteen sizzling minutes, finally ending up running his hands over her throbbing rear, even moving them down to her sex, before ordering her to the corner.

"I have some paperwork to see to," he informed her. "You will remain there with your punished posterior on display and think about an adequate expression of contrition to be made once the rest of your correction has been completed."

Kitty's heart sank to her metaphorical boots at his 'rest of your correction' phrase, sure that she could not survive much more of this and dreading the next phase. She stood with her nose pressed to the wall and her hands clasped behind her neck, wondering what the Captain had in mind by an 'adequate expression of contrition' and hoping it was nothing too demanding. She could hear the scratching of his quill and the mortifying entrance of a handful of crew, exchanging words on shipboard business as if she were not there.

After half an hour of this, during which the heat of her rear began to abate a little, the Captain stood and called her out of the corner, bidding her kneel before his chair with her upper torso draped over the cushioned seat. She obeyed wordlessly, a frisson of pure fear running through her when he used a belt to secure her to the chair around her waist, and another running around the backs of her knees and the two front chair-legs. Something was going to hurt a lot, she surmised, so much so that she would be unable to keep still.

"Now for this next element of your punishment, Kitty, you are going to be reacquainted with your old friend, the strap. I'm sure you recall how very effectively it worked on you during your last encounter, hmmm?"

"Yes, Sir," faltered Kitty, gripping the sides of the chair until her knuckles whitened.

"I intend to make an indelible imprint, firstly on this ill-behaved little rump and secondly on your memories, Kitty. I mean to make it absolutely impossible for you to even consider insubordination without having a strong retrospective picture of this day's lesson. You will be mastered, Kitty, and the only part you have to play in the process will be to decide how quickly to submit. And if your arse had any say in the matter, I suspect it would tell you to make it...snappy."

On the word 'snappy', he picked up the leather strap and snapped it loudly, leaving Kitty in no doubt as to the sincerity of his lecture. She squealed and tried to writhe out of the tight embrace of the belts, but they held her fast.

The Captain administered the first loud stroke to the centre of her right cheek, smiling at her outraged yelp. This would be a salutory lesson indeed for his treacherous young mistress. He hoped it would be the last time he would have to punish her as severely as this, but somehow he imagined the scene would be oft-repeated. Kitty's spirit was too proud to take readily to submission. He thought about her proud spirit as he applied the strap with indomitable stamina for ten minutes of violent struggling and yelling and even swearing – for which infraction he added a further minute.

"Do we need extra discipline for manners, Kitty?" he asked unbendingly. "Should I repeat this strapping tomorrow?"

"No...please..., Sir....I won't....use bad language...again," she gasped, almost beyond speech with the furious relentlessness of her flaming backside. "I'm.....sorry."

"I very much hope so," drawled the Captain, flicking a final stinging slap to the middle of her left thigh and letting her gulp and hiccup her way back to a semblance of composure.

Kitty's behind and thighs were now of a shade much deeper and darker than any she had sported previously; she would, in all probability, still be somewhat red and certainly a trifle bruised tomorrow. Sitting would be uncomfortable for a couple of days at least. And this was even before his planned finale. He unbuckled the restraining belts and motioned to her to sit down on a hard wooden chair at the table.

"I can't..." she wailed. "It will hurt too much."

"Hmm, not as much as Martinez's knife on your throat though, I'll wager. Sit or I'll have you back over my knee, lady."

Kitty lowered herself gingerly on to the unyielding seat, wincing as her hot, sore bum made contact with the wood. The Captain placed a roll of parchment and his quill and ink before her. "You will write two hundred lines, Kitty, the line being 'I will obey Captain Prince in all matters and submit cheerfully to his authority'."

"What? I can't remember that!"

Impatiently, the Captain took up the quill and scribbled the first line down for her.

"There. Two hundred times, Kitty. I will be back to check on your progress periodically, and if I suspect that you have even thought about getting off that chair, you will be strapped again, and for longer this time, before being made to start the lines from the beginning again. Clear?"

"Yes, Sir," muttered Kitty, setting to work.

For the next two hours, Kitty stamped on her wild temptation to steal next door and talk to Tom, so serious was her fear of a repeat appointment with the Captain's strap. The round-handled cane still lay on the table and she considered 'losing' it, but she was perfectly sure that the consequences would be utterly unbearable if she did. She rolled her eyes and kept them on her parchment, scrawling away and wriggling uncomfortably on her taut-skinned swollen buttocks.

Her hand was horribly cramped by the time she finished and the Captain's appearance with a plate of food and pitcher of ale engendered something akin to relief. The food was good too – Spanish serrano ham, manchego cheese and fresh bread, with fresh fruit to follow. She tore into it lustfully, eyeing the Captain nervously while she ate. He was pacing the cabin silently, stroking his whiskers as if deep in thought.

Once Kitty's meal was despatched, the Captain stopped pacing and stood behind her chair, gripping the back so that his knuckles touched her shoulder blades.

"Well, then, my lady," he said abruptly. "How fares your pretty derriere now?"

"Still stinging quite a bit, Sir," she whispered, hoping against hope for a reprieve from the lethal weapon further up the table.

"Good," he said. "Now stand up and place yourself in front of my bureau, if you please." He moved away from her as she complied with his command and went next door. He returned a minute later with a wild-eyed and white-faced Tom, his ankles untied but wrists still bound. He was bundled down into the chair Kitty had recently vacated and told to note well what he was about to witness.

"You may well think that the treatment I intend to mete out to Kitty now is cruel and overly harsh," he told the shivering boy. "Indeed, I am sure that Kitty will think so herself. But what you need to bear in mind, Tom, is that it is as nothing...nothing at all...compared to what I have planned for you, boy."

Tom began to weep and Kitty cried, "Oh, spare him," at which outburst the Captain made a big show of pausing and contemplating her plea.

"Spare him, you say? What kind of message would that give to my crew? I cannot appear to show approbation to a whelp who has cheated and betrayed me. He must be punished, Kitty."

"But...be not so hard, Sir. His crimes are small compared with mine."

"Well, that is true enough, Kitty, and very honestly confessed. Perhaps you would like to make a bargain. I will add to your punishment in return for going a little easier on young Tom here. What do you say?"

"I...er..." Kitty stumbled. This was difficult to commit to when she had such a sketchy idea of what the Captain had in mind. It involved his cane, presumably, but she was not familiar with the effects of such an instrument and so could not predict how many strokes would be too many. A gurgle of terror from Tom's throat precipitated her boldly forward. "Yes, Sir. I will consent to that."

"You are a brave girl," said the Captain, one eyebrow raised. "For that I must give you credit. Well, Tom, it seems I am to show you some mercy. I will spare your life."

"Thank you, Captain," he croaked. "Thank you, Kitty."

"Madam to you," cautioned Prince sternly. "So, Madam, I will require you now to bend and grasp your ankles. Place your feet wider apart, Kitty. Yes." The Captain paused to admire the display; Rose's posterior still flame red and pleasantly exhibited, along with the engorged lips of her sex. He would have to take care not to accidentally strike it, or there might be a little less to look forward to abed tonight. He took the cane from the table and flexed it slowly, swooshing it through the air to assess its weight and speed. The sound was petrifying to Kitty, who whimpered.

"The cane, Kitty," said the Captain portentously. "I'll make no bones about it; this is painful. Very painful. If you can get through even two strokes without breaking your position I will be extremely surprised, and rather impressed. However, any deviation from your current stance will earn you additional strokes...so please bear that in mind. My initial thinking was to give you six strokes, but in return for Tom's life I am increasing it to twelve, plus any earned for disobedience during your caning. I expect you to count each stroke, Kitty, out loud, using the form, 'One, Sir; thank you, Sir' and to thank me once more at the end. Do you understand me?"

Kitty, already longing to be out of this high-maintenance position, sighed, "Yes, Sir." 

Twelve strokes. How bad could it be? It would all be over in five minutes at the most. She would just need to grit her teeth and...

The Captain laid the cane across her burning cheeks and suddenly Kitty had the presentiment that it was going to be very, very bad indeed. He tapped it lightly against her skin a few times, scientific in his approach to inflicting pain.

"Breathe deeply, Kitty and do not move," she heard him say brusquely, then there was a hissing swish through the air then....had it hit her? She was unsure for a split-second, then the effect seared across her skin like a streak of white heat. It was impossible to bear. She moaned long and loud and stood upright, aware only of the need to protect her posterior from further strokes of this vicious implement.

"Ah, Kitty, as I thought. I'm afraid I'll have to add one to the total. And you haven't counted, nor thanked me yet," sighed the Captain, taking a rough hold of Kitty's upper arm and forcing her back into position. She struggled wildly, shrieking her dissent. "I see I had overestimated your capacity for obedience," he drawled. "Well, I have forgotten how painful it is, probably. I'll make it easier for you."

He put her back over the chair, fastening her into position with the belts as before.

"I will have to remind myself to cane you again, Kitty, so we can work on your posture and comportment during punishment," he said uncompromisingly. "Now can we have the count, please?"

"One, Sir. Thank you, Sir. Please don't give me any more. It will kill me, I know it."

"Ah, you can take much more than you think, my dear. Now brace yourself."

Another firecracking stroke lit up her body with convulsive pain. Unable to move, she instead put all her energies into exercising her vocal cords. "Aaaaaaiiiiiiieeeeeeeeee, oooooooo, oooooooo, two, Sir, thank you, Sir," she said.

A dim hope that she might become desensitised to the pain after the initial strokes sustained her through the next two stingers, but by the fifth it was becoming clear that this would not be the case and she was back to begging and pleading for mercy that she knew would not be forthcoming. The sixth stroke fell in the cruel spot between rear and thigh and once Kitty had gasped out the count, the Captain paused.

"Now you can take six more, Kitty, and spare Tom's life, or I can stop now and Tom walks the plank."

Tom could scarcely believe the bind Kitty was in. Watching her being caned was difficult, but he prayed with every fibre of his being that she would keep her promise and save his life.

"Kitty, I'm sorry," he blurted. "I'm so sorry. Please don't let me die."

The Captain tapped the cane against Kitty's well-striped rump. "Well, my dear?"

She took a moment to catch up with her frantic sobs, her head spinning with her need to get away from the biting agony of the cane. "Please stop!"

Tom yelled, "No!" and the Captain laughed.

"Not so brave now, my lady. I have made up my mind though. Twelve you requested, and twelve you shall have."

Kitty howled with anguish and somehow kept her sanity through six more cuts, plus one for jumping out of the way. "Thirteen, Sir. Thank you, Sir," she juddered, feeling mad alien sensations racing through her head and body. She was sure she would never sit again but she felt oddly, shakily exhilarated, as if she had crossed her own body's limits.

The Captain gave her a minute to regroup before releasing her and helping her to her feet.

"Now, my lady, I'm afraid I must make an example of you for the crew," he said into her ear. She whirled around, white-faced. "Don't fret; your arse won't take any more today. Come on."

He steered her outside. She gasped and tried to hide her naked private parts with her hands, but the Captain tutted. "No need for that."

He took her down a ladder to the foot of the aft-mast, where he ordered her to face the mast and raise her arms above her head. Her wrists were lashed to the wooden post with rope so that she stood with her crimson, tramlined backside on full display to the crew, and there she was to stay until sundown.

Kitty's only consolation was that the weather was reasonably cool; only her behind would burn that day. The pain and humiliation mingled to form an enormous cocktail of woe and she cried in her bonds for over an hour, until she heard the sounds of a judicial lashing occurring elsewhere on board and stopped to spare a thought for poor Tom, who was doubtless on the receiving end of the cat now. At least she had eluded that fate, though she was not sure how it could be any worse than that wicked cane.

It was while she was thus engaged, naked and exhibited, that she made a resolution never to cross the Captain again. His concept of mercy was so limited, it just wasn't worth it. She would lead a quiet life, endeavouring to please him in bed and keep him from entertaining any suspicions of her. She would stay in the cabin and polish up the brasses. And perhaps, one day, she would be free. He may be apprehended or killed in a fight. She would let her destiny decide for her.




Rum, Sodomy and the Lash Ch. 09



*

By the time he stepped up to release Kitty from her shameful post at sundown, she was exhausted, famished, tearful and extremely contrite. All afternoon, she had been the butt of cruel and lewd comments from passing crewmembers who paused to admire the fine pattern the Captain had welted on to her bottom.

Her arms were weak from their long confinement against the mast and the Captain slung his arm around her shoulder and helped her shuffle back to the cabin. A fine meal awaited her and its luscious smell almost made her faint. The Captain allowed her to kneel on cushions rather than attempt the impossible and sit, and she made short work of the seafood paella and three glasses of good Spanish wine put before her. She ate in near silence, the Captain simply sitting back with legs crossed and hands clasped over his chest, watching her.

"Fine food and fine wine," he said when she had drained the last drop and scavenged the last grain of rice. "Isn't that preferable to stale bread and water and a sore red bum?"

"Of course," said Kitty, slightly irritated. Was there going to be yet another lecture now?

"You could always have comfort, Kitty, and such luxury as I can provide, if you would but accept me wholeheartedly as your lover and your master. I want to be kind to you, if you will let me. I would much rather be giving you kisses than cane stripes. What say you, Kitty? Can we be friends?"

Kitty stared at him. She knew it scarcely mattered what she said. If she said no, he would continue to take her to bed and punish her whenever the whim arose. If she said yes, he would take her to bed but perhaps punish her less frequently, and less severely. It was clear what the smart answer was.

"I suppose...I could....try to be," she muttered, not quite able to concede too graciously.

"If you try, Kitty, I'm sure I can help you succeed," said the Captain softly. "Come, let me show you how kind I can be. Come to bed."

He took a docile Kitty into his arms and carried her to the bedchamber.

Mindful of her injured buttocks, he laid her down on her side, undressed swiftly and came to lie facing her, running one forefinger from her brow to her chin, outlining her face. He ran his thumb gently along her lower lip before moving in to kiss her full lips with unhurried sensuality. His hand made little excursions down her arm and around the neck and shoulder area, resting for a while on the inlet between hip and breast while the kiss deepened. Once Kitty's lips and tongue were fully committed and her own hands had strayed to his unruly black mane, he made the seamless transition to her breasts, caressing and stroking them, examining the nipples for perkiness, finding conditions favourable. His other hand roved southward, following her rounded hips and brushing the lightest of touches over her lower cheeks, which were ridged with welts. Even this featherweight contact caused Kitty to suck in her breath and whimper softly, so he moved swiftly around to the junction of her thighs, running swirly fingers around her mound and into the secret garden within. To facilitate access, he lifted one of Kitty's legs across his hips, opening her to his wanderings, as all the while their kissing swooned sweetly on.

Kitty writhed slightly beneath his professional touch; the tripartite teasing of her tongue, her breasts and her clitoris was bringing forth a waterfall of love juices; she felt played like a musical instrument, sweet harmonies pouring out as the virtuoso performed. She had to shut off her conscious mind, which complained that she should not be giving her body in this way to the man who had spent all day whipping and humiliating her, but it was not too difficult to close her mind when her senses were in such rapture.

The Captain gave her mouth a short respite, just long enough to nip her earlobe and whisper, "I think you are ready for me, my lady," as he thrust two languid fingers up her slippery passage.

"Mmmmmm," was her reply, which the Captain interpreted as an expression of willingness to further their congress. He inched closer until the erection that had been resting on her thigh found its mark and clasped her with one arm around her waist, the other gripping her displaced thigh, so that he had firm purchase for his first slow edge forward into her. He was infinitely careful of her aches and pains, keeping the pace steady and his stroke contained. Kitty's sighs became moans and she pressed her fingers into the Captain's buttocks, seeking to grind herself into his manhood, telling him without words that she was ready for harder thrusts.

"Oh, my lusty Kitty," growled her lover into her ear as he speeded up, working her tight channel harder with each stroke. "You cannot deny that you need this."

"No, oh no," she cried, hooking her leg around the tops of his thighs and jerking with each fast jab of his shaft now, feeling the perspiration building on her brow and the early glow of climax spread its fire through her loins. Now he could touch her fiery welts and she would feel the pain but somehow be able to overcome it as it became lost in the rush of mingling sensations. Sensing her explosion building, the Captain felt some relief, as he was not sure how much longer he could continue. He helped her along a little, strumming at her clit and fastening his mouth to her neck, sucking it hard so that she was suddenly overwhelmed, squeezing and digging her nails into his bum, kicking her free leg and keening like a wounded animal while he unleashed a torrent of his seed into her conquered depths. He felt victorious, Wellington at Waterloo defeating his belligerent little Napoleon. She was his.

He lifted his teeth from the tender flesh of her neck, now marked, and ordered, "Look at me, Kitty."

She lifted glazed, slightly tear-dimmed eyes to his and he felt a rush as he noted her expression of supplication.

"Tell me to whom you belong," he said commandingly.

"To you, Sir. I belong to you, Sir."

"Good girl." He kissed her forehead. "You have learned your lesson at last, Kitty. I think we shall be much happier now."

He brought a basin of warm water and a cloth and he dabbed at Kitty's abused flesh before rubbing in a soothing lotion.

They slept in each other's arms. 




Rum, Sodomy and the Lash Ch. 10



If Kitty had not known him better, she could have sworn that Captain Prince was feeling guilty about the severity of the punishment he had meted out to her. He was uncharacteristically solicitous for the remainder of the week, bathing her bottom and massaging lotion into her cane welts each night until they blackened into bruises then faded altogether; allowing her to stay in bed as long as she liked; even permitting the wearing of her shirt in the cabin. It was as if her Spanish escapade had somehow endeared her to him, notwithstanding the necessity of ensuring that it would never happen again.

As a subconscious response to this softening of his heart, Kitty went a little further than vowing never to set herself up for such harsh treatment in the future. She began to imagine a life with him that did not end with her escape or his capture. She began to seriously assess his suitability as a partner.

Of course, there were many negatives. He was a dangerous criminal for a start; no matchmaker would be impressed with his career credentials. He was estranged from his family and all polite society...but then again, so was she. He was overbearing, arrogant, demanding and patronising.

But...so very, very sexy. It maddened her on occasion that she craved his touch so, but he intoxicated her like no other man ever could. He was a skilled lover, he was intelligent and well-educated, a good conversationalist with cultured tastes. And...he seemed to care for her, in his own strange way. And -- most annoying of all -- he was absolutely right about her need for a man who could handle her; she had a grudging respect for him that she had never had for anybody else of the male sex. It was this, she had to admit, that made him so irresistible to her. She had never been treated like this, would never have expected to be treated like this, and would certainly never have expected to even tolerate, let alone like it. Yet she did. They seemed to fit together.

One week after her ill-advised trip to the mainland, Kitty was finally able to sit on a chair again and they celebrated the event with a dinner. The trip to Spain was still recent enough that they had plenty of decent food aboard; they had a meal of salt cod with rice and peppers, washed down with a fine Sant Sadurni cava. Sadly, Tom was unable to serve them, as he still languished in the brig waiting for his lash wounds to heal, but Kitty did not dare ask after her erstwhile accomplice.

"I've been wondering," began Kitty delicately, laying down her fork for a minute. "All I ever do is lie abed or perform simple household duties. I need some diversion. My mind is falling into disrepair."

"You want to make yourself useful?" asked Prince, pausing mid-chew to consider Kitty's words.

"If I could. Of course, I can't take on the role of full crew member. But isn't there anything a lady could help with?"

Prince chuckled softly. "The crew would tell you that you're already doing a fine job, Kitty. Before you fell into my clutches, I was a considerably harsher commander. But now my...frustrations are adequately contained, I am almost civilised."

"Oh." Kitty felt unaccountably dismayed at this. "And is that all I can be? A vehicle for your relief?"

"You would like to be more?" He propped his chin on his hand, regarding her quizzically. "Even though you despise me heartily and will be in the front row, cheering on my execution, when the inevitable day arrives?"

"I won't. I don't," said Kitty, under her breath, resenting having to make this admission.

Prince was silent for a moment, weighing up the likelihood that she was speaking the truth. "Well, if that is so, Kitty," he began eventually, "I am very glad to hear it." He held her eyes with his long and hard, watching the frisson that shuddered through her at the intensity of the contact.

"Tell me, Kitty, what kind of education did you receive?"

Kitty paused to think. Young women of her class were seldom properly educated; rather they accumulated 'accomplishments' that were deemed appropriately feminine and genteel.

"I can read and write well. I can play the piano, sing, embroider and draw a little. I also learned French and dancing."

"French and dancing," repeated the Captain, fighting to keep a sarcastic edge out of his voice. "But you read well. What do you like to read?"

"I prefer novels; I very much like to read stories," said Kitty enthusiastically.

"Not much call for novel reading aboard ship," said Prince flatly. "But I've a book you could study." He took a weighty volume from his shelf and passed it to his curious mistress.

"It is about medicine?" she said. 'Anatomy of the Human Body' was the title, with a subtitle of, 'Diseases and Complaints Thereof, with their Causes and Curatives'.

"I keep meaning to read it properly, but I rarely have the time. None of the crew can read; if you could get yourself a basic understanding of medicine, they might not die so bloody much. Pardon my language."

"I should like to be a physician," smiled Kitty, pleased to have a concrete role at last.

"You wouldn't like tending to some of the complaints my men pick up," cautioned Prince. "Especially when they're fresh out of port. Still, I won't visit anything of that nature on you."

Kitty had no idea what he meant, so she simply shrugged and began riffling through the dusty pages of the book. A number of perplexing diagrams and lengthy Latin terms met her disquieted eyes.

"Oh, I don't know any Latin," she exclaimed.

"I can help you with that," said Prince, sipping at his fizz. "More wine?"

"Thank you, Captain," she said, fluttering her eyelashes coyly at him.

"I think you can call me Jake," he said.

"Oh no, I couldn't do that. It is not a gentleman's name," she objected. "And besides, we are not married. It is most impolite to use first names."

"I do it all the time. Are you calling me coarse?"

"It's...well..." Kitty saw too late the corner she had painted herself into. "But Jake cannot be your name. You say you were well-connected in society before you...went...did what you did."

Kitty blanched a little at the stern look on the pirate's face. "I was christened James," he told her. "But I changed it to suit my calling."

She snorted a little. "Calling?" she said. "You make it sound like the priesthood."

"In a way it was for many years," he said smoothly. "At least, as far as celibacy was concerned. The life of a pirate captain is a lonely one, Kitty. The riches are hard won and life expectancy is short."

"Why do you do it then?"

He sat back, one leg elegantly crossed, and ran long fingers through his hair. "Necessity, for one thing. I had to get away, and I found life at sea suited me. I had a knack for handling a ship, and for handling a crew. I'm good at piracy. I'd never been particularly good at anything before, if you discount wenching and spending money."

"Could you not have fled abroad and begun a new life?"

"It was my original plan. But the sea called to me. I wanted to stay on the waves."

"Don't you fear capture?"

"Oh, all the time. But I am very good at eluding the Navy. They are blundering dunderheads, in the main. They lack imagination. One can wrongfoot them with ease."

"You are really a very wicked man, aren't you....Jake?"

"As you well know," he said in the low voice that so thrilled her. Her eyes widened and her bosom began to heave. "Come to bed, lady, and I'll show you my wicked ways."

It was too good an offer to pass up.

*

"Don't lie to me, Kit, you would up and leave me the moment a British vessel took me aboard; I dare swear you dream of my apprehension and imprisonment each night."

Captain Prince was lying prone on the vast bed wearing only a billowing shirt and a sword belt containing a small dagger; Kitty lay next to him on her back, her creamy naked skin fascinating her lover, whose fingertips traced its contours languidly.

"No, indeed, I do not," Kitty denied the charge, relishing the tingling that danced across her body at Prince's attentions. "I did at first, of course. You were so cruel and hard."

"Nothing you didn't deserve," growled the pirate, tweaking a nipple so that she yelped. "You needed to understand who was in charge, just as any of my crew does. It took a long time."

"Well, if you say so. But we are beyond that now, you and I, are we not? There is true...affection...between us, I think."

Captain Prince pondered this for a while, his hands performing a thorough reconnaissance of Kitty's breasts and stomach.

"I won't deny you're a fine filly," he said. "I like your spirit. I certainly never tire of bedding you."

"I'm not bloodstock," objected Kitty, trying to sit up indignantly, but finding her head returned quite firmly to the pillow by a hand pushing against her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Kitty, but I know you for what you are, and that is a deceitful, opportunistic little minx scarcely two rungs above me in the moral pecking order. I cannot shake the suspicion that all this billing and cooing is your attempt to lull me into a false sense of security before you pull another stunt like your trip to Barcelona."

"It isn't," wailed Kitty, and she meant it genuinely.

Life on board the Occidental Orchid had improved substantially over the past few weeks. She was ploughing steadily through the anatomical reference book and had tended to a few cuts and bruises; even a sprain or two. The Captain still guarded her jealously and for the most part she was confined to the cabin, but time passed more pleasantly now she was not constantly plotting escape. She had begun to regard the cramped rooms as her home, and enjoyed putting her feminine signature on the place in various ways. She looked forward each evening to the hour when the Captain would return from a long day of overseeing his crew and planning his next maritime heist, and join her at table for a leisurely dinner followed by a heady brew of conversation and fornication. Sometimes she wondered if she even loved him. He seemed to have imprisoned her heart as well as her body.

"Well, my sweet little captive," he crooned, his lips as close to hers as they could get without touching, "I am not of a mind for argument tonight. Ravishment is more my intention."

Kitty's sigh was swallowed into his mouth as he owned her lips with his plundering kiss, simultaneously plunging one hand between her thighs. Well-used as Kitty's female assets had been by him, their charms were not fading in his orisons. The delicate scent of her juices was such a contrast with the rank odour of his usual tavern-wench conquests; he had made do with flesh that was pitted with the taint of past disease before Kitty's succulent softness had fallen into his lap. It was a miracle, he mused, that he had escaped without some pox or other, and he had resolved to keep only to his high-born mistress from now on, and make the best use of her luscious endowments. 

Her back arched as his fingers dipped lazily into the glistening pinkness of her labia, and he loosed a throaty chuckle into her sequestered mouth when he felt her legs kick out. He slapped at her thigh warningly and she settled down, obediently accepting the imperious onward march of his fingers into her hot, wet core. He skewered and thrust them up inside her, never allowing her a pause for breath from the dominating kiss that kept her pliant to his will. His thumb rested on her clitoral button, circling slowly in opposition to the rapid tempo of his fingerfucking; soon enough he perceived that Kitty was losing all control of her senses, her breath catching in her throat, her hands clawing at the sheets, and he increased the intensity of his actions accordingly, releasing her lips just in time for her tempestuous climax to spill out and drown all other sounds in its violence.

"I do enjoy the way you come," he murmured, stroking a finger that smelled of her along her lower lip. "It's so...honest. You can't hide yourself from me when I'm bringing you to your completion. It is at that moment that I feel you truly belong to me."

"I do, Captain, I do belong to you," asserted Kitty breathlessly. 

"Come, Kitty, no more of your dissembling," said Prince sternly, determined not to believe her. "Get on to your knees, lower your head to the mattress and keep your legs parted. I mean to have you from behind now."

Kitty complied with his unequivocally voiced order and positioned herself according to his instruction. She knew the Captain favoured this variation because it perfectly illustrated the power dynamic between them; him in control, her vulnerable and submissive, offering herself to him without reservation.

As ever, the Captain took his time, taking in the sight of all that was available to him and relishing it before moving to touch her. The perennially delicious dilemma of whether to penetrate her upper or lower entry passed leisurely through his mind; the anal route was his favourite, but he preferred to keep it for those occasions when he felt Kitty might need an extra reminder of her subordinate status rather than allow it to become commonplace. He would drive his wedge of stiff flesh into her tight little pussy tonight, but perhaps he could ream her out with a couple of fingers too by way of compromise. Yes. That was the plan.

Kitty was tense with waiting. She wondered anew how he would take her tonight, hoping for the more conventional method. It wasn't that she was averse to being taken in the Greek fashion; indeed, she found it powerfully stimulating and her orgasms were more intense than the usual kind. It was just so nerve-racking and uncomfortable trying to accommodate his enormous member in the confines of her back passage that she always feared he may damage her. Additionally, she could not in that position escape the consciousness of his complete domination for as long as the act lasted; which he realised and frequently, to her hot-cheeked shame, remarked upon.

Tonight was to be no exception. Carefully inserting his manhood into Kitty's narrow channel with his steadying hands on her hips, he chuckled darkly at her little mewls and whimpers, her now-traditional expression of slight discomfort at the way she was stretched by him.

"You will take all of this, my love," he told her. "You will accept what I give because you are mastered by me. Isn't that so?" A rude little thrust up into her depths indicated that he wanted an answer.

"Ah...yes, Captain. Yes," she gasped, feeling the familiar split-asunder sensation before she accustomed herself to the aching fullness.

"All this is for my use, Kitty, whenever and wherever I require. You may not deny me. You understand this?"

Kitty stretched her eyes and emitted a low 'O' as the Captain possessed her fully, moving backwards and forwards with initial slowness, moaning himself as her velvet warmth clamped down on his sensitive muscle. Once an exquisitely frictive rhythm had been established, the Captain moved his hands to Kitty's arse cheeks, kneading them as he ploughed in and out, then preparing her inner ring with practised thumbs until he could slide a finger, then two, into the yielding space behind.

Kitty had experienced this kind of double penetration on many occasions now, and, though she would not admit it to him, she found it wildly arousing to be opened so completely. The Captain had only to synchronise his dual invasive appendages to bring her screaming into an orgasmic frenzy fit to wake all below decks.

"That's it, that's what you need, my lady," hissed Prince, ramping up the pressure in the quest for another of these outbursts from her before he was done. She writhed and groaned beneath him, sure she could not take any more, squirming to elude his determined thrusts but knowing even as she did that she would not be able to. The Captain rode her hard, wringing out every last drop of juice from her core before he released his seed in his customary fashion, withdrawing from her and splashing it across her backside to avoid an inconvenient conception.

Kitty fell forward, exhausted, sore and strained in every thigh and buttock muscle. He was never easy on her. But she found she liked his manner of usage, and she turned to her side to smile dozily at her conqueror. Sweat poured from his brow and into his eyes; his hair lank, his chest heaving. God, he was a man. The man. The only man for her.

She would tell him so. "You are the only man for me," she said, her voice hoarse and cracking from the force of her climactic yelling.

He smiled, stroked her face. "I'm the only man you've known," he said.

"I mean it!"

"Hush, Kitty. Sleep now. Sleep in my arms."

They slept.



Rum, Sodomy and the Lash Ch. 11



They were three days out of Marseilles and it would not be long before they caught up with the Fleur de Gascony. During a brief sojourn in the city, Prince had ascertained that the French galleon carried a cargo of luxurious items; fine cognac and wines, opulent fabrics and jewellery that would fetch a handsome price in any market.

Kitty had enjoyed her piquant taste of life on land and rather pined for it now it was over. They had spent a night at the beachside house of a rich associate of Prince's, wined and dined in fine style, with dancing and all the other folderol she missed so from her former life. But now she was back on board, with more seasickness and disgusting food to look forward to, as well as a potentially dangerous raid on an innocent vessel.

"Why so pensive, Kitty?" asked the Captain briskly, wolfing down the remnants of breakfast. "Cheer up; by evening you and I will be very much richer."

"Or deader," she moped. "I suppose I wish we could take our wealth and use it to establish ourselves on dry land in some country where we will be safe from the Navy and the elements."

The Captain stared then laughed. "You want domestic bliss from me? I'm afraid that will never be. That is not the man I am. But...I'm...intrigued to know that you would consider making a life with me."

"Oh, I would," she replied, impassioned. "I....believe I love you."

"What is this foolishness? Love? Is this another of your schemes?" The Captain stood, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, his look daring Kitty to persist.

"I know you don't trust me," she pouted. "But I hope one day you will. I hope you will...feel for me too."

He strode over, wrenched her chin up and kissed her until she could not breathe.

"Stay in the cabin," he said gruffly. "This is man's work today." And he left her with her stale croissant and jar of apricot preserve, brooding on her future.

*

Kitty watched idly through the porthole as the cannons were loaded, blunderbusses primed and swords sharpened. She wondered what the catching feeling at the back of her throat was and then realised that it was fear. Not fear that the raid would be unsuccessful – Prince was completely accurate in his self-assessment as the Mediterranean's most efficient and impressive pirate captain – but rather a fear that he would be hurt in the struggle, maybe even killed. What would she do now if she lost him? And what would become of her if he no longer stood between the crew of the Orchid and her? She shuddered to think.

The tide drew them inexorably towards the French merchant vessel, now close enough to observe the consternation infecting the decks. Little crewmen running hither and thither, preparing to defend their cargo but standing no chance against the firepower and sheer savagery of the Orchid. Within minutes they were alongside and Captain Prince was leading his men into the ambush. She watched them leaping from deck to deck with abandon, listening the clashing of cutlasses and shouts of combat. A few shots rang out, from personal firearms rather than cannon or grenade and she wondered vaguely if her medical 'expertise' might be called upon today.

She tired of the spectacle and threw herself down on the bed, fingering the expensive cameo necklace the Captain had procured for her from some illicit dealing or other.  It irked her sometimes that she was kept so separate from all the action; a bird in a gilded cage. Would that ever change? Would the Captain ever believe her declarations of love? She drifted into a doze, sleeping through all the alarum and clamour of the raid until the door was bludgeoned open and a brace of crewmen rushed in, their faces pictures of agitation.

"What? What is it? Is it the Captain?" Kitty jumped off the bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and restored to full alertness in seconds. Her heart raced and her skin was already clammy with fear.

"You're needed, Miss, on deck. The Captain has taken a bullet in his shoulder. 'Tis embedded there. Come quick now."

Kitty followed them, wondering how on earth she should tend to a bullet wound and trying to remember every scrap of information she had picked up from her studies as she flew down the ladder to the cluster of men surrounding the limp body of her lover.

"Kitty!" he managed to grind from between his dry lips. "Can you...help?"

She knelt beside him, ripping the already torn shirt further to get at the bloodied flesh. "Why could you not have been more careful?" she tutted, wincing in sympathy with him at the agonised look on his face as she examined the damage.

"Can't you...be a bit...gentler?"

She gave him a wan smile. "Still enough yourself to rebuke me. That's good. You, bring me a candle. You, fetch me a dagger." She stroked his lank hair from his sweat-beaded face, looking into his eyes as they flickered with pain. She had to do this properly, cleanly. It was bound to hurt though.

The men arrived with the knife and the candle. She held the blade into the flame, waiting impatiently for it to be hot enough to cauterise the wound.

"Why are you helping me, Kitty?" whispered the Captain. "You could let me die. You could be free."

"How do you know I don't mean to stab you with this knife?" she replied with a tight smile. "Perhaps I should do it now."

She plucked the dagger from the flame and made a swift downward motion toward the Captain's chest, stopping inches above his heart and moving it to the mess of torn flesh further up.

"Very funny, Kitty." His voice had almost disappeared amidst the wheezes of his chest. "I deserved that, I suppose."

She inserted the blade as decisively as she could into the entry wound, trying to ignore the Captain's piteous shriek as she jiggled it around, finding the hard metal object and coaxing it out of its hiding place. It would not do to panic.

"Be a man, for pity's sake," she snapped at Prince, who continued to howl like a baritone banshee until the little round cause of all the trouble slipped out and was snatched up for a souvenir by the avid crewmen. Breathing heavily with the weight of her relief, Kitty tore the Captain's shirt into strips and stuffed one into the gaping hole left by her crude surgery. 

"Bring him up to the cabin," she directed. "I have clean dressings there. Do you have any opium on board?"

"Of course."

"Perhaps you could get him some? To ease the pain?"

The Captain's long, lean body was shouldered by two of his burliest crew, who helped him up to the cabin. Kitty had them deposit him on the bed before removing the torn old shirt from the wound and replacing it with a clean dressing from her supply cabinet. She knew the worst was not necessarily over; if the wound did not become infected it would be a miracle. But Prince was a strong man; if anyone's body stood a chance of fighting off a terminal sepsis it was his.

"Kitty," he slurred a little while later, his head full of opium dreams. "Get us a bottle of rum, will you?"

"I hardly think that now is the time for drinking!"

"Just do it, woman." Even in his narcotically addled state, Prince was not a man to be disobeyed. Kitty sighed and fetched a bottle from the other room. "Take the cork out and splash it on the wound, Kit."

"What?"

"Don't ask me why; it's just the pirate custom. Do it."

Shrugging, Kitty splashed a small amount of rum on the mangled flesh. She grimaced, seeing the Captain's body tense with pain and a hiss of air expelled from between clenched teeth.

"Thank you. You're a diamond, Kit. You're my diamond. You should have killed me but instead you saved me. I will see you crowned Queen of the Barbary Coast, my love."

"You're raving," said Kitty dispassionately. But secretly she was thrilled. She lay down beside him on the bed, stroking the knuckles of his right hand until he fell into a vivid swirling sleep.

*

The Captain was incapacitated for a surprisingly short time. Praise be that his wound did not become infected, and within a day, he was striding around the decks issuing orders and overseeing the daily running of the ship.

It was only in the bedroom that the Captain's injury became more apparent; he was unable to throw Kitty around with his usual abandon, and commented ruefully that his spanking arm would be out of commission for some time. 

"So I can get away with anything I like?" she teased cheekily, propping herself up beside him in bed and moving her hand down towards the nest of curls that housed his semi-erect tool. Thank God that hadn't taken a bullet, she thought. He slapped her hand away and grasped her wrist in fingers that seemed to want to test the delicate flesh to destruction.

"Oh, I don't think so, Kitty. For one thing, I have a very long memory. And for another, there are many other ways to keep a saucy wench like you on her best behaviour."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really." His unflawed arm was powerful enough in its own right to guide Kitty seamlessly into a straddling position over his loins.

"Let go of my wrist," she fumed, struggling, but his grip was like iron. He pulled her down low, so that her parted under-lips rubbed against his stiffening cock, enjoying the way her juices coated him with natural lubricant so that she slipped and slid in an erotic rotation. Soon her half-lidded eyes revealed that she was moving beyond a point of resistance, and he released his hold on her wrist, placing his hand instead on her hip and exerting more control on her perilous descent into wanton lust.

Now fully tumescent, he pinched at her flesh to bring her attention back to him, stabbed upwards with his weeping tip and commanded, "Sit on it."

"Oooh," she moaned, positioning herself above the feared and adored instrument and edging herself carefully down so that she felt every inch of the thick, hot flesh spearing into her. It seemed to take an immensely long time to get all the way down until she rested, crammed to the hilt, upon his pelvis. She rested awhile to accustom herself to the novelty of her vantage point. This was a position seldom permitted by the Captain, who preferred to reinforce his mastery of her by choosing manners of coupling that placed her at his mercy – usually he would be behind or on top of her, or perhaps to the side, or occasionally pushing her up against a wall or item of furniture. The whole point was that she was submitting, surrendering, opening herself to him.

She was doing so here as well, but somehow it felt different. Perhaps more intimate? She could not really avoid looking at his face unless she lowered her eyes to the expanse of his chest. But then her line of vision was drawn to the messily healing wound on his shoulder. So yes, his face was best. His eyes were fiercely determined and his jaw set in a way that meant business. He rolled his pelvis beneath her and snapped out an order to start moving while his good hand freed her hip and smacked down on her bum instead.

"And make it a hard ride, Kitty.  I want to watch your tits jiggle for me." He was able to move his other hand to brush against a nipple and Kitty drew a sharp breath, beginning in earnest her task of sliding up and down the shaft embedded within her. She was too slow at first,as the Captain's hand on her arse cheek reminded her, so she began to pick up in speed, obeying all the instructions thrown at her to clench her muscles tightly, to bend forward, to grip his uninjured shoulder for purchase, to griiiiiind as hard as she could, harder, faster, harder, faster. Slaps fell uncompromisingly on bottom and thigh as she strained to comply with her forceful lover's wishes, but it was such difficult work. Her brow was beaded with perspiration, her thigh and buttock muscles beginning to ache, her nether regions damp with exertion and stinging with the intensity of the friction.

"Oh, Sir," she panted in exhaustion. "I can't....I cannot...I am...."

"Yes you can," he gritted with such a powerful smack to her rump that she cried out. "I've just noticed that my left hand is just as good for spanking with as my right. Now keep it up, lazy wench, if you don't want to spend the day in the corner with your red bum on view."

"Ooooh," moaned Kitty, beside herself with tiredness and feeling that her limits were not far off. The Captain moved his right hand to her backside, pushing at her despite the pain it caused him, bending her further down so that her breasts slapped against his chest with each thrust. And now Kitty was aware of burning pressure on her clitoris, which was stroked by the base of the Captain's cock each time she sawed back and forth. He grabbed a generous handful of her rear and put as much as he could into forcing her hard all the way down his shaft, pumping maniacally inside of her until she began to keen and tighten against him and at last he could give her all he had, shooting and spurting while she wailed into his neck before collapsing sweatily on to his unblemished shoulder, fighting for breath and whimpering brokenly.

"How does it feel to do the lion's share of the work for once, Kit?" asked the Captain, playing absently with her lank hair.

"I am so tired," she gasped. "So tired. So sore."

"Really? Show me."

Kitty did not want to, but she sat up and spread her legs to show the Captain what she meant. She was indeed reddened from chafing and swollen, his seed leaking from puffy lips. He noted with satisfaction the several distinct scarlet handprints that graced her bottom and thighs. Good work. Nobody could mistake that this was a girl who had been thoroughly fucked.

"I'm glad somebody shares my pain at any rate," he said laconically before pulling her back down to nestle in his functional arm. "My little lifesaver," he crooned, kissing the tip of her nose. "Where would I be without you, Kit?"

"You will never be without me," she replied dreamily. "I will stay with you."

"Do you mean that?" He sent an exploratory fingertip down her cheekbone, finishing at her soft lips.

"I truly do."

*

Kitty flounced through the streets of Naples on the Captain's arm, glorying in the envious glances of the low-grade whores and cutpurses that frequented the dockside areas. With her gown of finest silk and exquisite diamonds adorning her graceful neck, Kitty knew that she would ordinarily have a knife at her throat in these seedy alleys before you could say 'banditti', but not even the worst of the local scumbags wanted to risk a confrontation with Captain Prince. 

The Captain and Kitty were accompanied on their early evening passegiatta by one of Naples' most renowned rapscallions, Arturo Mancini and his lady, Maria.

"I tell you, the food is..." Mancini paused and kissed his fingertips to indicate the excellence of the cuisine at the house he was escorting them to. "Baldini has the best chef in town."

"And he really knows how to throw a party," added Maria with an arch look at Kitty. "I think you will be especially...popular."

"Oh. Thank you," said Kitty, not quite catching the tenor of Maria's glance. She felt the Captain's arm stiffen.

"If some kind of Roman-style orgy is planned, I must advise you that Kitty will not be participating."

Mancini laughed and tutted. "Capitan! You must be in love! You do not want to share this beautiful flower with those who would love to take a deep draught of her scent?"

The Captain's spine maintained its poker straightness as he hissed, "Kitty is a lady."

Both Arturo and Maria fell about laughing. Their acquaintance with Prince was longstanding, and his reputation for licentiousness was well-known to them, having been proven in their company on several occasions. Indeed, Maria herself had found herself underneath him amidst a sea of heaving bodies at least twice in the past. Where had this sudden propriety come from?

"So am I!" cried Maria. "A real woman, as you well know."

Kitty shot the Captain a furious glance.

Maria tugged seductively at her shawl, exposing an expanse of olive-toned décolletage. "I was so looking forward to seeing you again, Jakey. All of you," she purred.

"Not tonight, Maria," he said tightly.

Maria flitted back to Arturo and began to subject him to a rapid-fire burst of loud, plaintive Italian. Arturo shook his head and sighed with relief when they reached their destination – a tall, thin town house on the fringes of the district but notably grand for the area wherein it was situated.

Their host, Luigi Baldini, was a wealthy businessman; however, it was whispered in the politer reaches of Neapolitan society that his gains were ill-gotten. And indeed, they weren't far wrong. Baldini was an unscrupulous operator who would stoop to pretty much anything to add to his substantial coffers.

The short, balding man proffered his hand, extending genial greetings to the Captain and Kitty.

"I am delighted to meet you," he averred. "Arturo has always spoken so highly of you. He says you are the best supplier of, shall we say, creatively obtained luxury goods working the Meditterranean."

"He speaks the truth," said the Captain immodestly, baring his teeth in his notably sharklike smile. "And your reputation speaks for itself, Signor Baldini."

"Oh, please, call me Luigi. And this is your beautiful...companion?"

"Lady Catherine Tremayne," said the Captain with a flourish, causing Kitty to wince and pinch nervously at his arm. She had been uncomfortable when she had been introduced thus to Arturo and Maria, but Prince had laughed at her, asking her how she thought a pair of Neapolitan rogues would have heard of a murder committed in England. All the same, her heart burned and she flushed deeply at the words, despising the look on Baldini's face. Impressed by nobility. And the Captain was playing on this, using her birth to enhance his buccaneering ladykiller image.

"Milady," said Baldini softly, eyebrows raised, offering her his arm as they swept upstairs to the dining room.

A large gathering of swarthy middle-aged men with their courtesan lady friends awaited the guests of honour. Kitty found herself transported back to the elegant dinners of her past, despite the company being rather rougher than what she was accustomed to. The food was indeed superb and the wine flowed plentifully. Both she and the Captain were much admired and she felt rather like a Queen at a state banquet with her King.

A string quartet struck up a waltz and Kitty and the Captain led the dancing. He was an excellent dancer and Kitty, who had never taken this pleasure with him before was surprised until she remembered that he had once been a gentleman. They spun dizzily around the floor, Kitty breathless and transported in his arms, the Captain's unflinching eyes boring into her as the music's whirl drove them onward. The strains of a quadrille died away and as Kitty cast about the room for signs of the next dance, she gasped at what met her eye.

Over on a sofa against the wall, not three feet from them, a young woman's breasts had escaped from their tight-laced confines and were being enthusiastically manhandled by two men. Everywhere in the room, couples and trios were in different states of semi-undress, joined at the mouth or more.

"Ah, I see the entertainment has commenced," said the Captain drily. 

"You wouldn't...." stammered Kitty, unwilling to share her private places with any other than her pirate master now.

"No, Kitty, I will not share you. But we will have to join in. 'Twill seem unusual else, and draw attention to us."

"But...with everyone looking!" objected Kitty, stumbling as the Captain dragged her over to a spare divan.

"I rather think the other guests are rather more caught up in their own pleasures," murmured Prince, settling between a pair of snogging whores being cheered on by some younger men and Maria, involved in alternating kisses with Arturo and Baldini. Kitty submitted mutely as the Captain pinned her down and captured her mouth, watching with corner-of-the-eye fascination the goings-on at her right hand. Arturo had wrenched Maria's top down while Baldini was lifting her skirts, moving his suntanned, wrinkled hands up her nude legs all the way to the top. Then Arturo's tongue was in Maria's mouth, while Baldini's lapped between her legs, both men having custody of a breast apiece. Kitty, although aghast at the sight, could not deny that she was also mysteriously aroused by it, and she responded to Prince's osculatory attentions with ever deeper sensual enthusiasm, pushing her tongue against him and biting his lip until he exclaimed and she realised that the rusty-tasting liquid in her mouth was his blood.




Rum, Sodomy and the Lash Ch. 11



"Want it rough, do you, my lady?" he growled, flipping her skirts up and planting a knee between her thighs so they were spread for his inspection. Kitty continued to gape at Maria's plight. Now she had Arturo's cock in her mouth and was sucking at it with relish while Baldini pushed into her from behind. "Good God, you're dripping!" commented Prince sardonically. "You aren't as horrified by all this as you would have us believe, are you?"

"Indeed, it is you who excites me, and only you," insisted Kitty, though she was hard-pressed to deny that the sight of Maria moaning as two loads of seed spurted respectively between two sets of lips was rather stimulating. Maria and her two lovers fell to languid kissing and caressing, turning their heads to spectate on the Captain's efforts.

"Why, Jakey, that thing is bigger than ever," laughed Maria as he unbuttoned and released his proud tool. "Kitty doesn't know what a lucky girl she is."

"Oh, I think she does," he demurred, locking her knees with his elbows and ploughing into her tender depths without preamble. Kitty had been subjected to a number of humiliating experiences at the Captain's hands, but being taken in front of an audience was new to her and she endeavoured to block out her view of the curious onlookers while she was pounded hard into the soft fabric of the divan.

"I would love to have her suck me while you are doing that, Jake," mentioned Baldini bluntly, but at the risk of offending his host, Prince refused to allow his participation. He huffed a little, then turned to Maria and had her do the honours instead.

"Just look at me, my Kit," crooned the Captain, aware of how disconcerting this was for his lady. "Just look at my eyes while I take you. You are almost there, my love, almost there. I can feel you tighten and clench around me...you can feel my hard width stretching you...yes, come for me, my lady, yes...." And she did, twisting and writhing around his rod while the audience clapped and cheered their approval. Prince gushed forth into her channel seconds later, rocking soothingly atop her until she had descended from her cloud of orgasmic miasma. They were kissing passionately, oblivious to all around them, when there came the sounds of an alarum from the door. The lovers broke their embrace and saw a number of men uniformed in the unmistakable garb of the British Navy.

The Captain reacted instantaneously, pulling Kitty by the wrist after him as he fled through the double doors to the next room, desperately looking for some back stairs or a way to safely get down to street level. It took him seconds to ascertain that there was only one option; a steep drop that he could manage on his own but not with Kitty. He pulled his britches back up, tucking Kitty back into her corsets simultaneously.

"Kitty," he said, "Run and hide, my love. Try to get out of this as fast as you can – Baldini has sold me, it seems, and I have to take flight."

"Captain...Jake!" she implored.

"I will come for you. Now hide. Do it, Kit." He snatched a wild, sweet kiss before leaping out through the shutters and on to the cobbles below. Whimpering with anxiety, Kitty ran on, finally concealing herself in a cupboard in one of Baldini's many sitting rooms.

She shivered in the dark for a matter of minutes, though to Kitty the time seemed to stretch out for eternity. When would she be safe? How long would they search for? Would they capture the Captain? Was this it? Would they both hang?

The clamour of boots rushed into the room. She heard doors open and shutters bang. She held her breath for so long she thought she might faint. Then her cupboard door was flung wide and she looked into the faces of two British officers.

"Lady Catherine Tremayne?" one of them brayed. "Come with us. You're under arrest."

*

Kitty awoke and yawned. Judging by the light that shone onto the flagstones of her cell it was another fine morning. The last morning, fine or otherwise, of her life. Today she would hang.

She lay watching the shafts of sunshine make patterns on the floor and thought of the lie her lover had told her. "I'll come for you." For all that she had always known he was a bad man, one of the worst, she had trusted his word. She had believed in him.

Many bitter tears had been shed by the dishonoured Lady over this, her beloved's perfidy, but now she was spent. It had been six long months since her arrest in Naples, and in all that time she had heard not a whisper about him.

Oh, she had been questioned extensively as she lay, wretched and retching, in the brig of the Naval vessel that had brought her back to England. How did she come to be in Prince's company? Was she his accomplice? Where had he gone? What could she tell them about him? Mutinously she had refused to answer any of their questions. They had made any number of lewd suggestions about their relationship – most of them quite well-founded – but she had gritted her teeth and ignored them. In her heart, she rejoiced that he was clearly still at liberty. Because he would come for her.

Every day she had listened out for a hue and cry on the upper decks, signifying a pirate raid, but when none had come she still had that crumb of comfort. Of course he would not attack a Naval ship – they were equally matched in firepower, and a fair fight was not the pirate way. But once they were in port...then he would come for her.

But Kitty had disembarked at Bristol and been transported to the prison, and there had been no highway robbery en route.

At her trial, Kitty had expected every day to see a glimpse of black hair and a flash of blade amongst the crowds of ghoulish gawpers in the public gallery. But there had been none. She had been found guilty and sentenced to death.

So now, here it was. Execution Day. Kitty stood on her bunk and stared listlessly through the bars at the prison yard. They were putting the final touches to the gallows, throwing the rope over and looping the noose. The yard gates were open, unusually, so that members of the public could come and watch the spectacle. Already a few enthusiasts were setting up their front-row places. A pie seller was in situ by the gate and another fellow was hawking sheet music; a new ballad penned in Kitty's honour, telling the story of her crime and her romance with the pirate Captain. 'The Wickedest Woman in all England' was its title.

Kitty heard the heavy door creak open and the usual doleful tone of the gaoler. "Breakfast, milady. Your last..." His utterances ended in a strangled cry. Kitty turned to see what was amiss and gasped at the sight.

The gaoler was half-garrotted by a length of rope; his flaccid cheeks turning purple as he spluttered. Behind him, wielding the weapon with a dazzling grin, was....

"Oh, my love. You are come!"

Kitty leapt from the bunk to the outstretched hand of her deliverer.

"We cannot stop, Kit. Come quickly." They ran along the corridor, down steps and out of the entrance, where they were spotted by the pair of guards that stood sentry. The Captain picked up even more pace, yet he was able to whirl around and aim a dagger at his pursuers, throwing them into immediate confusion. As they passed the music-seller, he winked at them and moved back, getting between the escapers and the chasers by throwing his tray of parchments up in the air around them. Prince and Kitty now had a chance to draw away from the soldiers, and they made it around the corner, where they ran slap-bang into another pair of guards. The Captain drew his sword and began duelling one of them, while a couple of men from the milling crowd rushed up and joined in the fray, tackling the other guard. In the meantime, the pie seller took Kitty's hand and ran with her into the melee, through the narrow streets until the mob thinned out and they were almost at the dockside.

Eventually, as she was convinced she would fall over and die, he whisked her into a tavern and behind the bar to a backroom, where two other men were waiting for them.

"Tis all working according to plan," said the pie-seller. "The Captain will be back directly."

"Oh, I recognise you now," panted Kitty in wonder as a tankard of ale was slapped down in front of her. "It's Toothless Ted, isn't it?"

"Aye," he grinned, revealing the reason for his moniker. "Pleased to see us?"

"I should certainly say so," said Kitty, draining the tankard in one draught, as if she were herself a pirate. She lay back against the bench and kept her eye beadily on the door, hoping against hope that the Captain would be striding through it soon, so she need no longer worry that he had been killed in her rescue attempt. But after another tankard of ale, and then another, he was still not back.

"Don't worry, milady," reassured the crew men. "The Captain will be back."

But Kitty slumped down on the deal table, disconsolate and worried and rather drunk. She fell into a restless sleep, and the landlady had to have the pirates carry her up to the room on the first floor that the Captain had stipulated for them.

*

Stirring in the dark, Kitty awoke from yet another dream of the noose and sat bolt upright, crying out. She stared around at her dark and unfamiliar surroundings, disorientated for a moment. This was not the gaol. She fumbled around on the bedside table until she was able to light the candle. She was almost fully clothed in her execution garb. Oh God, it was late, very late, and the Captain was not back. He must have been killed or captured. It was surely more than fourteen hours since he had rescued her. Oh God. She buried her face in her hands, wondering what on earth would become of her, a young woman alone with only a rabble of pirates for company.

She would have to get away. She could hear the sounds of their carousing downstairs in the tavern and shuddered to think what would happen once the keg ran dry. No doubt they would all pile in here and expect to share her bed. And her body.

She stole down the creaky stairs and estimated how easy it would be to get out without being noticed. The door to the bar was open, but if she was swift, she could slip down the passage without being seen. She tiptoed along, hearing the rowdy chorus of a drinking song waft through. Then there was a sound, nearer, just by the door, that made her heart jump violently. "Perhaps just one more then."

It was HIM. He was alive. He'd been down here all along, letting her think he was dead. Incandescent, she pulled her shawl around her imperiously and marched into the bar. There was a confusion of cheers as she stood, arms folded and face like thunder, in front of the rather inebriated Captain. He looked up at her with bloodshot eyes, slapped his thigh clumsily and slurred, "Kitty, my love. C'mere."

"How dare you?" she fumed shrilly. "How dare you let me go on thinking you'd been killed when all the time you were down here getting drunk? Have you any idea...?" Kitty's tirade was cut short as Captain Prince pulled her down on to his lap, encircling her waist with an iron grip and seeing to it that her mouth was employed in kissing rather than cursing. Despite her wrath, Kitty was drawn unavoidably into embrace, tasting the heated rum on his tongue and surrendering to his thorough possession of her lips. So heady was his virile scent and the feel of his hard, male body after such long separation that Kitty began to tremble with the force of her need for him. Prince felt her response and acted on it. Pushing away the glass that had been set before him, he stood, heaving Kitty into his arms.

"Apologies, gentlemen," he said to his crew, "I have business to attend to. I'm sure you'll understand if I take my leave."

Ribald laughter accompanied their exit and Kitty showed some signs of relaunching her verbal attack, but the Captain silenced her with a look as he swept her up the stairs. He kicked the bedroom door open and threw her on the bed, immediately setting about removing his clothing, staring darkly at her all the while.

"I don't know why, Kitty, but I had the absurd notion that saving your neck might have earned me some form of gratitude," he reproved, swishing his belt from its loops and throwing it on the floor.

"Oh, I am grateful, of course," she bickered crossly. "But...I thought you would...want to come straight up to see me..."

"Haven't I earned a drink? Good God, woman, I have taken three lives today so that yours may be spared. While you were snoring up here I was involved in deadly combat, both with my sword and my bare hands. But of course I shouldn't expect any thanks." He threw his shirt down and Kitty forgot what she had been about to say when she saw again the tightly muscled expanse of his chest with its pattern of scars, joined today by a couple of superficial bloody stripes.

"Should I?" he prompted menacingly, now almost completely naked.

"I love you," breathed Kitty. "I mean, thank you."

The Captain's face softened and he sat down beside her on the bed, pulling her into his arms again.

"Sweet Kitty," he crooned into her hair. "Sweet fiery Kitty. My only love."

She turned her face to his. "Is that the rum talking? Or do you mean it?"

"For pity's sake, Kit! The rum talking? How many times do I have to say this? I have nearly killed myself and killed three others to save you. I came for you. I...put you before my own interests. Is that not loving you?" The Captain's fingers were on Kitty's chin, pressing into the delicate flesh. She knew she had aroused his ire. But she just wanted to hear it.

"Tell me," she entreated. "Say the words."

"I'll be saying some words you don't want to hear if you don't stop this nonsense," he growled, but then he saw the shimmering look in her eyes and relented. "I love you, Kit. You're the woman for me."

She gave a little mewl of happiness and stroked his whiskers before throwing her arms around his neck. They fell into a long kiss of reunion, which soon enough transmuted into a long caress of reunion, which then flourished and blossomed and expanded and extended across and along their sighing, writhing bodies.

He clutched the neckline of Kitty's plain execution shift and ripped it open all the way to her ankles. "How have I lived without this?" he breathed lubriciously, confronted with her alabaster flesh, her soft mounds of breasts, the hidden recess between her milky thighs. He swept his hand up from her ankles, along the legs, over the hips to her breasts where he stopped to play, twiddling and stroking his old friends with relish before taking them into his ravenous mouth. Kitty's irregular breathing stoked his resolve, especially when she twined her little hands into his hair and pressed her lips to the sensitive area behind his ear. He moaned with need... "Oh, Kitty..."...and moved his hand down to test for wetness below. Finding it, his fingertips skated around on the surface of her outer petals, moving inward until her swollen inner bud met his touch. Kitty had become delirious with need; six months empty of her Captain's cock had been far too long and she hungered for it, spreading her legs and arching her back pleadingly.

"You need this, Kitty, don't you? You've missed me, I see."

"Oh yes," she vowed. "I have thought of you every night while I touched myself."

"Likewise," he murmured, readying himself for the big push forward by clambering between his mistress' knees and settling a pillow beneath her bum to improve the angle. "You're going to scream my name tonight, Kitty," he promised, and her shocked gasp on his swift and sudden advance into her tender parts made him chuckle effortfully as he impaled her on his broadsword.

"Oh, I FORGOT," cried Kitty, "I forgot how BIG it is."

He laughed. "Allow me to refresh your memory." She clung and clutched at his back as he began to slide in and out of the yielding depths, plunging down to the furthest reaches and holding himself there, rotating his hips to grind into her and spark the frictional flame that would lead to her completion. She lay and basked in the blissful sensation of his repossession, squirming sensuously beneath him and sucking at his neck in the way she knew he liked. His hands moved ceaselessly over her body as he laid stroke after stroke, sometimes fiddling with her nipples, sometimes caressing her belly, sometimes squeezing her bottom, sometimes teasing her clit so that she was never able to know where the next sensation was coming from.

He banged into her ever faster and harder, pushing her pliant body up the bed until there was no further it could go. She began to shiver and sigh, pulling at the Captain's hair, wailing, "Oh please, oh yes," and then he felt her walls quiver and he growled, "Say you are mine," and she said it, screamed it, sobbed it as he brought the tidal wave crashing over her and filled her brimful of his seed and they were back together, joined as one, Kitty and the Captain, for all time.

"Good girl," murmured the Captain to his glowing mistress as she lay slack-limbed and speechless in his strong arms. "My girl."

"Let us always be together," she said dreamily, kissing his cheek adoringly.

"Yes, let's," he agreed. "Shall we be married?"

She sat up, the whirling of her head taking a moment to still after the vigorous coupling she was still recovering from.

"Married? Be your wife?"

"That's what it entails, I believe."

"But who would marry us? We are not..."

He shrugged. "There are always bribable clergy. Perhaps in some Mediterranean port. What do you say?"

She laughed delightedly. "I will if you will."

"That's settled then. Kitty Prince." He pulled her back down and they sailed contentedly into sleep, to dream of becoming the Pirate King and Queen of the Barbary Coast.