Paid to the Pirate by Una Rohr

Chapter 17

Charlotte

Icould not confess to that which I did not know.

I’d tossed and turned in the brig’s hammock all night, formulating a plan.

I had two hopes for escaping the lash and it would be best to employ both, I reasoned. One, I needed to learn more about the events of that fateful evening so that I could somehow begin to piece together the truth, and two, I needed to escape once we docked in Nassau.

There wasn’t much I could do to prepare for the latter until we reached port. But if I could speak with Miguel privately, I thought, I could begin uncovering information about my past.

Figuring out a way to bring down Colt’s piracy from the inside would need to play second fiddle to ensuring my own safety. I came first, after all, and there wasn’t much I could do to tear him down if they’d already torn the skin from my back.

A terrible shiver ran through me at the thought.

Focusing on my plan, I spent the morning above deck but feigned lightheadedness from the sun by midday. Retreating to the shade below, I took my first opportunity to slip into the galley unnoticed.

Miguel was arranging pickled vegetables when I arrived and looked up with alarm, but shortly thereafter a warmth softened his gaze.

I knew it. We’d meant something to each other in the past; been friends perhaps. He was a weak link on which I could apply pressure to snap, but only because he cared for me.

I wish the same could be said for Captain Colt, I thought wryly.

“Miguel,” I greeted him smiling, helping myself to an open chair. I wanted to work quickly in case Conks came sniffing about and I wanted to position myself below Miguel, to look up at him with the best doe eyes I could manage. I placed my hands demurely on my lap.

Miguel roared with laughter. It was a side of him I hadn’t seen and I jumped at the sound. For the first time, I noticed he had the most adorable dimples if he smiled widely enough.

“I’ve spent too many nights watching over you not to know your tricks, Charlotte.”

My mouth dropped, affronted, but it only made him laugh harder.

Miguel set aside the vegetables and took a seat across from me, offering the bashful smile I remembered from our first meeting. “I’m sorry to speak so bluntly and I didn’t mean to give offense. I just want you to know you don’t need to put on your lady act -- or any other -- here with me.”

Relaxing into my chair, I nodded. “Thank you for granting me the permission to speak freely but I assure you, I am a lady.”

Miguel shrugged. “If you say so.”

“Only,” I smoothed a stray hair behind my ear, “I was hoping to get your version of the events that happened -- that Captain Colt believes happened on this ship two years ago.”

“Not this ship,” Miguel corrected. “You know that. We traded The Dark Blade for The Dread Night.”

“Right. Of course. I meant, the events that happened two years ago on that ship.”

Miguel shifted uncomfortably, looking over his shoulder as if someone could be standing by the plate of pickled peppers and onions.

“I can’t - can’t discuss that with you.”

I folded my arms. “Why not? I have every right to know what it is you believe when the subject matter is me.”

When those beliefs affect my backside at Colt’s whim, I thought. When threat of the lash looms.

Miguel worked his jaw, falling silent again for a while. Finally, he said, “Well, to be honest, it’s you I’ve been wanting to ask questions of. I can reckon why you stole the gold.” Miguel’s warm brown eyes held mine. “You wanted out, you always wanted out.” He ducked his head and whispered, “But the Eye?”

I blinked, startled.

“I know about the Crimson Eye,” he confirmed in a whisper. “But don’t worry, only a few of us do. If word spreads though, not even the captain can protect you from the crew. You stole from us all when you swiped it.”

I wouldn’t do that, I insisted to myself. And if I had, it would only have been to return it to its owner.

Miguel’s voice turned grave and his whisper was so low I had to strain to hear him. “And what you did to Maurice,” he said. “I don’t blame you for hating him. He was a bloody bastard, alright. And maybe he tried to stop you from leaving. But I’m sure to Colt that didn’t justify you killing him.”

My heart beat furiously fast and sweat broke out on my brow.

Killing? I thought with alarm. What did he mean -- killing? Surely, he was mistaken.

“I - I didn’t… wouldn’t…” I fumbled. “If it had happened -- which it didn’t -- it would have been self-defense.”

Miguel shook his head sadly. “Maurice would never try to hurt you if that’s what you’re implying. He was as mean as they come, sure, but Colt was like a son to him and you were too precious to Colt.”

“Correct,” came a voice from the door.

Oh no.

My stomach lurched as I turned to face Colt, pushing the galley door wide and stepping inside the small room. My mouth ran dry and I lost the ability to speak. I was sure I’d turned white as a ghost.

Miguel jumped to his feet. I quickly followed, making a pathetic attempt at a defensive stance.

“Now, captain,” Miguel began.

“Leave us,” Colt commanded Miguel without looking. “I’ll deal with your transgression later.”

Miguel bent his head. Sparing me one apologetic look, he departed.

Don’t go, I thought. I need your protection.

Scratch that. Colt didn’t care about having an audience. I gulped. Maybe it was better Miguel had left.

“You cannot punish him so harshly for my wrongdoings,” I protested, using anger to cover my fear. “He was only trying to help me.”

“Oh, I’m not. I’ll dock his wages for the week,” Colt shrugged. “But the real punishment for him will be to hear your cries.” Colt stalked toward me. “The real punishment is all for you Lady Charlotte.”

Colt grabbed my arm.

“What are you-”

My words died in my throat as Colt slammed me down over the galley table. While I flailed and struggled to rise, Colt’s firm hand on my back kept me bent. As he raised my skirts, I warred with wanting to scream and protest and not wanting to announce my plight to the crew.

Feeling the cool air on my naked backside, I knew it was pointless.

“Stop!” I cried, head pressed against the smooth wooden table. No matter how hard I struggled, I couldn’t rise.

Colt laid a resounding smack on my rear. And then another.

“Settle down. Keep fighting me and this will continue longer than I’d originally intended.”

Gritting my teeth, I huffed through my nose as I determined to endure.

“That’s a good girl,” Colt mocked, boldly running his finger down the crevice between my bottom and making me shudder before he laid another hard smack on my rear.

I yelped, but he did it again -- this time smacking me several times where my arse met my thighs, then letting his fingertips gently graze the lips of my sex. The bewildering onslaught of pain and pleasure continued -- I’d suffer several harsh blows, only to be plunged into a state of confused desire when Colt would pause and touch me intimately. Before I had time to do more than sigh at the sensation, he’d resume his discipline. The strength of his blows increased, leaving me panting, turning my rear red, I was sure. Colt’s caresses were never enough; he never even inserted a finger inside me. But they kept my head spinning, kept me wanting more. It almost was a reward, like he spoke to me.

Take a few more spanks, Charlotte. There now, I know it hurts. But look at what a good girl you’ve been. You can have the brush of my fingers against your swollen pussy lips. Such a good girl. Doesn’t that feel nice?

The only thing more humiliating than arching my back to give Colt better access was the fact that he ignored it, choosing only to grace me with the barest of caresses.

Colt ended my spanking with his hardest blows yet, once again on the sensitive area where I sat down.

It wasn’t my cries that had alerted the crew, I knew. I was able to keep them to muted whimpers throughout the spanking. It was the loud slap of Colt’s palm against my skin. Any passerby would have heard it and known what he was doing.

I was mortified.

Released, I sprang upright. Tears welled in my eyes, though not as much from the pain as they were from the frustration at being helpless. Being punished. Being molested. Liking it. I didn’t know what to do with my rage and excitement but it needed release.

“You shame me!” I shouted at Colt.

He was taken aback. Perhaps he’d expected contrition. Perhaps I should have shown it, given recent events.

“I shame you?” Dangerously low, he snarled the words from clenched teeth. “I shame you?” Louder now. Colt slammed his fist on the wooden table. “And how about how you shamed me?”

I watched the skin on his knuckles stretch and whiten as his fist tightened. “You steal from me, you murder Maurice, and you escape in the middle of the night -- right under my nose to make a fool of me for all the crew to see?” Colt threw his head back, laughing.

Murder. There it was again. I would never do that. There must be a misunderstanding.

Wary, I stepped backwards. My head spun to make sense of his words but I couldn’t concentrate with the impending threat.

“I shame you?” Colt repeated, voice dripping with sarcasm. I squealed as he closed the distance between us and grabbed my arm hard enough to hurt. “Lady Charlotte, I haven’t even begun to shame you yet.”

“Wait, stop!” I shouted, as Colt kicked the galley door and dragged me through the narrow hall and back to his cabin. I had the feeling he would have thrown me over his shoulder, had the ceiling permitted room. Stumbling after him, I was forced to scurry or fall, and by his painful yank I knew he wouldn’t hesitate to drag me the rest of the way.

“Colt, stop, please!” I cried. He’d never been so rough with me before. Even the first time when his anger practically exuded from his skin and shot right out from his dark eyes, he didn’t manhandle me with such violence.

Had I truly done something so horrible as to warrant this treatment? I couldn’t have murdered anyone. No, there must be a mistake or a reasonable explanation.

Colt slammed the door behind us and wasted no time forcing me onto the bed. Once again, I didn’t want to scream and announce my predicament to the entire ship, but I couldn’t help my pleading.

“Just stop for a moment, please!”

Colt ignored me. He was like a beast in those moments, incapable of reason. Colt grabbed rope, and, using his superior size and strength, pinned me to the bed. I thought I couldn’t be any more panicked than when he tied my wrists to the posts, but of course he didn’t stop there.

Ignoring my protests, Colt shoved my skirt to my waist, baring me.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

While I thrashed on the bed, he found more rope. Bloody rope was one thing this ship was never short of.

Though this surely wasn’t its intended use.

Sheer terror washed over me as Colt seized one of my thighs and wrenched it wide. Encircling my tender flesh with the course rope, he spread me, tying the rope to the same post restraining my arms. Colt yanked my left thigh wide and repeated the humiliating process.

I squeezed my eyes shut while Colt inserted himself between my legs, pinned wide like a butterfly on a board. Nothing was hidden from his view; no ladylike modesty remained. Staring. I could feel his hot gaze on my sex, searing me like a brand in my most intimate folds.

He’d succeeded; shamed me as he said he would, and with only a glare. What was his fascination with what lay between my legs? Agonizing seconds crawled by. I couldn’t stop myself from sniveling and I didn’t care. You won, see? Brought me low, shamed me. Now please, let me up.

Why wasn’t he letting me up?

I didn’t understand.

I didn’t know what was coming.

This wasn’t the shame at all. This was just the maneuvering to get me in the position to shame me.

“Lady Charlotte, in all the time you were hiding from me, has a man touched you here?”

Oh God. I shook my head rapidly, eyes still squeezed shut. I knew what he meant.

“You’re so wet.” His whisper had a curious tone. Something like awe. “I can’t tell if it’s because you know what’s coming, know how good it’s going to feel, and you’re panting like a bitch in heat for release… or if it’s because you’ve been starved for an eternity and you’re soaked with longing.”

I wasn’t… my body didn’t do such whorish things.

“I’d make you answer the question, but then you’d just lie, wouldn’t you?”

Me? You’re the liar.

Colt’s fingers traced my mouth. “These lips lie.” His hand slid down my stomach, reaching the curls at the top of my mound. “But these lips don’t.”

At those words, his fingers traced my slit up and down, making me gasp and shudder. I couldn’t turn any redder; it wasn’t possible.

“Shall we see what truths I can wrest from your cunt?”

The terrors he might inflict upon my most sensitive regions were unthinkable. Would he whip me there? Pinch me? Smack me?

Rape me?

I shook my head back and forth rapidly. “No, please. You won’t achieve your goal in this manner,” I swore. “Use your body to hurt me all you like, but I will not break.”

Why did my voice sound husky?

Even huskier, Colt rasped, “I’m not going to use my body to bring you pain. I’m going to use it to bring you pleasure. Although that might pain you more.”

Colt thrust his finger inside me and my mind nearly snapped from the deliciousness. I flung my head back and cried out. My legs jolted in response. Jesus Christ.

Colt pushed his finger in and out, enthralling me in totality. It was like some kind of magic, a masculine power of bewitchment. It made my hips move at the command. My body certainly wasn’t under my control any longer. It responded to his.

Then he inserted two fingers inside me and I groaned. It shamed me further; my own actions shamed me worse than if I’d been forced to simply be victim to some depraved act. I thought I’d lose my mind from the insistent pleasure of those two fingers violating me, and then Colt did something that had me convulsing.

He swiped his thumb over the bundle of nerves at the top of my opening. I didn’t even know what to call the sounds tearing from my throat as he continued to circle it.

Something built inside me and I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t want to; it needed release. The sensation was similar to how I’d felt that first night when Colt bent me over the bed, and yet it was entirely different. This time, it wasn’t me doing it. This time, my mind wasn’t in that strange, detached state. This time it was shared, and immeasurably more powerful.

I felt like a lion behind a cage, roaring for release. I imagined Colt the master on the other side, whip in one hand, cage key in the other. He cracked the whip and it was as if something inside me roared, let me out.

Oh God, let me out.

It built inside me, a crescendo, the bliss just beyond my reach. Yes and yes. It was as if Colt came closer, bringing his hand to the lock, to freedom.

Yes, please, now, I need it --

-- abruptly, he pulled his hand away.

The effect was horrific; the Godsent pressure suddenly gone. My hips bucked, seeking, begging.

I need.

His voice was another crack of the whip as he whispered into my ear, “Down girl. You haven’t earned it.”

Humiliated and desperate, I sobbed. Just minutes before, I cried for wanting him to stop. Now I cried because he wouldn’t continue.

I had thought Colt and his ship were my cage and that only I could free myself, but I had it backwards.

I prowled in a cage of my own making and only Colt could free me.

For a few minutes, he let me cry tears of shame and desire. Colt brought me so low I couldn’t make myself stop, even though he watched with such condensation it burned.

When I finally calmed down, Colt neared and I mistakenly thought he’d untie me. Instead, he brought his fingers back between my legs and helplessly bound, I was unable to stop his assault. I didn’t even want to. I rocked, meeting his thrusts, wiggling my hips as he rubbed the spot that gave me the most pleasure.

“Are you ashamed?” he asked, voice rough. “Are you ashamed at what I’m doing to you Charlotte? Ashamed at how you like it?”

I nodded, still bucking.

“Only a husband should see you like this, isn’t that right? And never quite like this. He’d approach with the candles low and only to make blessed babies. He’d never string up his lady wife and spread her wide for his viewing pleasure. He’d never stick his fingers in her cunt to make her pant like an animal, would he?”

“No…” I whined, tossing my head. His filthy words mortified me but they made me hotter too. I think he knew it.

Colt watched my movements and the pleasure flit across my face. When I came close to a pinnacle the second time, he stopped again.

“Please,” I begged, as his fingers disappeared. He sat back, leaving me whimpering. Each time he touched me the tether I had to reality, to the material world, snapped. My body shot up in an arc while my mind and spirit flew right up out of it. When Colt released me, I’d slowly sink back to Earth, to the rocking of the ship and smell of salt air. After a minute, my heart rate and breathing would slow.

I let my head fall to the side, eyes fluttering shut, and I felt the dip in the bed as Colt neared me a third time.

“No, no more, please,” I begged, tugging at the ropes binding me too tightly. I couldn’t stop Colt’s fingers seeking their goal -- my unprotected sex. He slipped inside easily for another round of torment.

I didn’t try to fight him; knew it was pointless. He’d use my body as he saw fit. Fighting him only wasted my energy. He’d have his way, in the end.

“Are you ashamed at your whorish writhing, Lady Charlotte?” he asked again.

I nodded.

“Say it!”

“Yes! Yes, I’m ashamed!” I’d hoped he might let me have satisfaction if I said what he wanted. I needed completion so badly, my legs shook. But I knew no amount of begging would sway Colt’s mind.

“As I’ve been ever since you played me a fool. Tell me the truth of that night and I’ll let you come so hard you might pass out,” Colt tempted, stroking my wet folds.

I could only whine. I heard Colt’s low chuckle of disbelief, then he shoved two fingers deep inside me and curled them, making me wail and beginning the torture again.

I didn’t argue when he left me wanting the third time. Or the fourth, and final. I no longer struggled when he untied me. I could barely move my sore arms; they fell to the bed. Desperate, I made an attempt to move them between my legs to finish the job myself, but Colt grabbed my wrists.

“Uh-uh,” he tsked, placing my arms away from my throbbing cunt and chuckling when I whimpered.

He’d broken me again, in an entirely different manner than before. Weak, exhausted, and completely unsatisfied, I fell asleep in Colt’s bed.