Captains Prize (part 2)

When Martha awoke, for the briefest moment, she forgot where she was. She was simply warm and comfortable, the mattress softer than anything she had ever felt and in those first few drowsy moments, she didn’t want to wake. Then the memories came flooding back; being dragged from ‘The Fany’ onto the pirates ship. Her hands being tied with the corse rope and being pushed below deck into a cage. Her eyes flew open – her heart pounding.

The room was dull but not dark, she could see relatively well. She flushed as she remembered the shameful way she had been made to relieve herself in front of that man, she would not call him Captain H.

Easing her body up quietly she looked around the room, hoping to see something she could use to defend herself when he came back to defile her.

“There are no weapons in the room Martha,” a low voice came from a corner of the room that her eyes had not yet covered. She looked over startled. He was lounging in a hammock, on his back. His arms were folded under his head, his feet were crossed. His eyes were closed and she wondered how he had known what she had been thinking. Could he read minds? Was he a seer?

“Go back to sleep,” he said.

Unfortunately her body was telling her quite insistently that she had more pressing needs. Shame filled her knowing she was going to have to ask. She took a breath and wispered, “I need to relieve myself.” Her voice was croaky from sleep. She lowered her eyes unable to look in his direction, cursing her body for its needs.

She heard the rustle of fabric on fabric and a light thud as he climbed out of the hammock. She felt the tug of the rope as he undid it from the ring.

“Come,” he said gently.

She eased herself off the bed and noticed her shoes were gone. The wood floor felt smooth under her feet and oddly comforting. He took her to the privy and he released the lid. She quickly lifted her skirts and pulled down her drawers. It was pointless to waste time she thought as she settled on the seat.. to her shame her bowels opened noisily and she reddened, the stew had been richer than she was used to and she was paying for it now. She would have given anything for privacy. She looked for something with which to clean herself and noticed there was a bowl with water and cloths nearby.

“Refresh yourself,” he spoke up. He didn’t sound disgusted, just tired she thought. She moved from the privy closing the lid towards the bowl. Picking up a cloth she put it into the water, which was cool, not cold and she squeezed the excess water from the cloth. She patted it on her face and chest and she heard a chuckle behind her. She turned to find him stood behind her. He reached for her hands and untied them.

“Get undressed and clean yourself properly,” he said, “you must be very uncomfortable in all that fabric.”

Martha’s eyes opened wide. Undress. In front of him. She shook her head vehimently.

“Yours isn’t the first female body I have seen Martha,” he spoke lazily, almost sounding bored. “I assure you I can control myself.” He settled into the bench next to the table.

Martha turned to face away from him. He would not see the tears of shame that welled up in her eyes. She was unbound and should fight him but in truth she was very uncomfortable and didn’t have any energy to do so. When the ship had been sighted her father had ordered her to put on her corset and over skirts. For the most of the voyage she and the other women had dressed in thin cotton garments staying below deck so as to not enflame the passions of the men. At least that is what her mother had said. So taking the corset off would be a relief even if short lived. The facilities on ‘The Fany’ hadn’t included washing areas. And after 4 weeks on board she was in dire need of a bath but this would be better than naught.

She unlaced the front of the over jacket and allowed it to fall to the floor. She would rinse it after she had cleansed her skin. She would rinse all her clothing. The corset was next, she would leave that off. Should she have the opportunity to escape she could move better without it. She untied the waist of the over skirt and allowed it to fall stepping out of it and she kicked it onto the growing pile of clothes. She was left in her undergarments. She hesitated. He may have seen many naked women but she had never undressed in front of a man.

“Either you do it Martha,” he drawled, “or I will.” The threat hung in the air for a moment before Martha’s shoulders sagged in defeat.

She loosened the tie at the front of the top and pulled it over her head dropping it onto the floor with the rest of the clothes. The cool air was nice against her clammy skin and her nipples puckered making her extremely aware of their nakedness. The bloomers were already loosened from her use of the privy and they fell to the floor easily. She untied the garters that were secured above her knees and removed the stockings. She was completely naked. She had never in her life been so exposed since the day of her birth.

Martha resisted the urge to cover herself with her hands and set about washing her skin. The cloth was rough but she had spotted the soap at the side of the bowl as she had undressed and picking up the soap she applied it to the cloth and began to rub away the sweat and grime. It felt good to be clean and she was soon reveling in the feel of the cool water and cloth against her skin. Her nipples seemed sensitive to the cloth and she vaguely noted that whenever she caught them with the rough cloth the heat returned to her privates.

She didn’t dwell on these thoughts however, absorbed as she was in her ablutions, she could almost forget that The Captain was there. She was reminded of his presence however when she heard the bang and while she wanted to turn her nakedness rooted her to the spot.

He was there at her side, handing her another larger cloth so she could dry her damp body. She frowned as she took the cloth. This thoughtful gesture didn’t match what she knew of pirates.

She briskly rubbed the cloth over her skin it was scratchy but she didn’t care. When she felt dryer she looked down ready to redress but her clothes were gone.

“Where are my clothes!” Her voice wavered, surely he wasn’t expecting her to be naked. Again he surprised her, handing her a white cotton shirt and skirt.

“Put these on, you’ll be infinitely more comfortable.”

Blushing, Martha pulled the skirt on and tied the waist. The cotton was soft and comfortable. Obviously a good quality and she wondered what had happened to the previous owner. Shaking her head she pushed away the thought, and pulled the blouse over her head, tied the ribbon and tucked the hem into the waist of the skirt. She felt so much better for being clean.

“Now tell me that doesn’t feel better?” The Captain asked, he was right behind her, his breath fluttering against her ear as he spoke. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach and her privates clenched in a strange way. It was not unpleasant and a frown creased her forehead. “Would you like to brush your hair also?” He offered her a hairbrush.

“Yes,” Martha replied as she reached for the brush. He withdrew his hand moving the brush away.

“Yes, what?”

She looked up at him questioning.

“Yes please?”

“Good girl,” he said and gave her the brush. Martha flushed again and clenched her jaw. She began to unwind her hair. It was long and knotted. She hadn’t brushed it out in a while. Martha grimaced and tugged the brush trying to untangle it.

“How on earth do you cope with that,” The Captain spoke again. “Delightful as long hair is Martha, it isn’t practical on a ship.”

Martha felt him touch her hair and froze. Her arm was half raised ready for another attack on her hair. He seemed to be gathering her hair into one hand and even as fear crept into her chest she noticed that there were other feelings, nice feelings – she liked the feel of him touching her hair, she realised, and again shame washed over her.

The sound of hair being cut dragged her away from these thoughts… and she spun around to face him her mouth forming a surprised ‘O’.

The Captain took a step back, he had a knife in one hand and in the other a fist of her hair.

As she spun her hair now fell around her, it was now to her shoulder blades rather than below her waist.

“That,” he said, “will be much easier for you to manage.”

“You cut my hair!” She said indignantly. Her temper finally making an appearance. She had always been complimented on her glorious hair, how long it was, how glossy. She reached up her hand that didn’t hold the brush and felt the remaining hair.

“Yes,” he said simply. “Be careful Martha you are beginning to sound rude. I told you what would happen if you displeased me. Finish brushing your hair. I am still tired and plan to get some more sleep.”

Biting back her anger she lifted the brush and returned to her hair. She hated him. She hated him. She also hated to admit he was right the brush now flowed easily through her hair.

She completed her task and held the brush out to him.

He took the brush with one hand and with the other grasped her wrist securely. Her temper already awoken made her try and tug her hand away. He laughed at her attempts. He placed the brush on the table and picked the rope back up. He secured it to her wrist and motioned for her other hand.

Martha put it behind her shaking her head, “no” she spat at him.

With what seemed like no effort at all he spun her and grasped her hand. Securing this to the other he pulled her to him as he sat on the bench.

“I warned you Martha,” he murmured. She found herself over his knee, she wasn’t sure how as he seemed to simply tug her and she fell. He held her securely with a hand over her back her hair fell forward over her head.

She felt his hand on the hem of her skirts as his fingers brushed her ankles, and she realised he intended to lift it, exposing her bare behind. Martha squirmed and whimpered, “no, no, no…”

“I think 6 will do for now,” he said and he increased the pressure on her back keeping her in place despite her efforts.

She felt the cool air as her derriere was exposed and froze, her whole body tensed. His hand was rubbing her behind, gently. Martha’s breathing stopped. He wasn’t serious. Surely he wasn’t serious.

“Yes 3 on each,” his voice was lower, and she felt her privates contract again at the sound of his voice.. Heat had pooled there too.

He hadn’t stopped stroking, and shame flooded through her as she realised her body has begun to relax. He removed his hand.

Smack.

Her eyes opened wide, the breath gushed out of her. She expected pain but instead she felt more heat in her privates. Her sense of shame increased.

Smack.

This time the other cheek. Again it didn’t hurt but tears welled up in her eyes.

Smack.

Harder this time but still not exactly painfully. The tears of humiliation began to fall. Her head fell in shame. The heat in her privates seemed to be throbbing now, it felt strange, and…. nice.

Smack.

A moan escaped her lips. The tears fell freely now. How could she like this? It was wrong. So wrong.

Smack, smack.

Another moan, mixed with a sob, as the final two blows hit. Once again he began to rub the area gently. Martha squirmed. It felt good, so good. As the tears flowed unhindered down her face, confusion and shame whirled in her mind.

“Sshhh,” he soothed her as he stroked. She felt him put her skirts back down and he helped her stand.

Her body shook as she sobbed and he picked her up and took her to the bed. Laying her down he settled himself behind her. Martha tried to pull away but he held her fast. He continued to whisper to her, she couldn’t hear his words over her sobs.

Her privates throbbed mercilessly and she felt a mixture of humiliation, shame and desire.

After some time passed her sobs eased, and her body relaxed against his. Her breaths deepened. She was asleep. The Captain allowed his mind to wander. Her behind was delightful. Smooth under his calloused hand. He was glad she had defied him, watching her undress he had been itching to see how the skin would ripple as it was struck. He had not been disappointed. It had been hard to strike only 6 times. He would have bet 10 galleons her sex was wet and needy but he had resisted finding out. He wanted her to beg. A smile formed on his lips, oh yes, she would beg.

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