Paid to the Pirate by Una Rohr

Chapter 37

Colt, the past

“What are you going to do to me?” she demanded, after I marched her to my cabin. Following my rescue, it seemed some of her spirit returned. I think Charlie was more frightened of the men above than the one in front of her.

I’d change that soon enough.

“I’m going to punish you as a woman is to be punished.”

At her widened eyes I realized she thought I meant something else entirely. It was with both cruelty and kindness that I clarified, “Relax. You can keep your breeches on for your spanking.”

Ah, there was the terror I desired. Though I wasn’t sure if her horror was more from fear of the impending pain or humiliation.

“Don’t you dare lay a hand on me,” Charlie ordered, backing up.

“Oh, I’m going to lay my hand on you. Forcefully. Repeatedly. Until you scream and cry loud enough for every man out there to know you’ve been suitably punished for your actions. Enough to satisfy me that you’ve been sufficiently punished.”

“I will never cry for your satisfaction,” Charlotte declared, her laughter an attempt at boldness.

I grabbed her arm and she squealed.

“I do love a challenge,” I said, easily throwing her across my ample thighs.

She yelled but I ignored her, staring at the rounded bottom before me. A girl’s rear. She bore somewhat undernourished hips, but her backside was ample enough to punish. With relish, I raised my hand high and smacked it down. The pleasure hit me like a shot of whisky to my brain. Charlotte yelped at my force, kicking fruitlessly to free herself.

Smack. I struck again. And again. Occasionally my fingers curled as I struck, grabbing the meat of her arse. The pleasure of punishing Charlotte was so intense, I grew focused on nothing but her rear and her grunts. It was hard to judge if she’d had enough as her breeches blocked my view. When Charlotte’s shouts of protest morphed into cries of pain, I stopped, curious.

Some instinct made me abruptly draw Charlotte up into a sitting position on my lap. Perhaps shocked, she didn’t move. Wide, wet eyes stared at me, but there was more defiance than contrition in them, telling me I’d stopped too soon. I also doubted anyone had heard her.

“Why did you hide the truth the day we found you?” I asked. I desperately wanted to know everything that went on in her head. All she hid, all she had ever thought. I wanted to examine it, shape it, mold it, play with it.

“And what would you have done if I’d confessed I was a girl? Raped me?”

“My men do not rape,” I stated. “You know this. Their needs are seen to at every port, even if it cost them the better portion of their wages. I see that they have it.”

“So I’d have been left on my own? Too old to be adopted yet an orphan at the mercy of a town that hated me? You’d have left me to starve and die!”

I raised my brows. “So you’d rather your fate on this ship?”

“I’d rather you spared my father, you murderer!”

“He drew first.”

I’d repeated it so many times. It was true that I defended myself, but there was more at play than she understood. If I hadn’t killed him, I’d have lost the respect of my men. Maybe not at that moment, but eventually. And if, one day, they set upon a town without me to rein them in, who knew what slaughter they’d unleash? This was the life I was given, as she was given hers. And was it so much worse? Didn’t she see how ill-equipped her father was to take care of her? It was almost willful negligence.

“He was protecting me,” she countered, as I knew she would.

“He failed,” I said, a bit cruelly.

Charlotte’s lip quivered before she lunged, beating me with her small fists. “I hate you! I hope you burn in hell for your sins!”

Unbelievable. I’d just spanked her and she attacked me again.

Well then. If that punishment wasn’t hard enough to subdue her, I’d happily increase her discipline.

“Stop it this instant,” I ordered, “or I’ll spank you again.”

Fair warning. Your choice.

Charlotte’s eyes blazed and she fought not to snarl. Then, like the challenging little minx she was proving to be, she drew back her hand and smacked me across the face.

I grinned slowly. You brought this on yourself.And really, the men need to hear.

Charlotte flailed and shrieked as I picked her up and threw her over my lap once more. Since it wasn’t enough the first time, I yanked down her breeches, instantly meeting the sight of Charlotte’s bare arse.

She’s a girl, my mind repeated, stupidly. I knew when I was alone later that night, I’d still be echoing the barely believable truth in my head while drinking deeply.

Charlotte’s hand splayed behind her, attempting to protect her rear, so I pinned it to the small of her back.

Pull apart her thighs, came the thought, and see what truly lay between her legs.

I shook it away.

“I won’t scream for your pleasure,” she vowed. “Smack me all you desire but I will not give you the satisfaction.”

What a delicious little spitfire. She was also putting herself in a bad position, although, judging from the past year I’d say Charlie was probably good at that. Should she fake it and scream out her shame and pain more readily, I’d have little excuse to continue punishing her.

She was all but forcing my hand.

I had two choices. I could either bring her above deck and punish her in front of the men, or she needed to scream loud enough so they could hear that she’d been satisfactorily disciplined.

With one hand, I unbuckled my belt.

She brought this on herself, said a voice in my head.

As if she ever had a better option, argued another.

I folded the belt in half.

If Robert uses this fiasco to sway more men to his side, to rally them and overthrow my command… they’ll do far worse to her than dole out a spanking.

I raised my hand.

The more I hurt you, the safer you’ll be.

With that vow, I cracked the belt across her bare arse.

Charlie screeched and did her best to scramble from my lap. Now we’re getting somewhere.

I held her tighter and brought down the belt again on the fullness of her cheeks. I couldn’t wield full force from this close angle, but I didn’t want to either. Judging from her wails, it was enough.

I whipped her backside enough to leave marks for days. Angry red strips bloomed across her pert rear. Charlie shrieked the loudest when I struck her thighs. The sight of her helpless bottom and the sound of her cries sent bursts of almost blinding pleasure in my brain. As she kicked, I caught fuller glimpses of her cunt, each one like a draught of rum heating my blood, until I was drunk on the sight of her sweet sex.

I didn’t stop until she stopped struggling. When she submitted and lay sobbing over my knees, I put the belt down. I hadn’t before a more intense sexual experience, yet I hadn’t even touched one milky breast, nor had she even laid a finger upon my stiff cock.

For several long moments, neither of us moved. Charlotte was too humbled and I was too entranced. Her wails must have brought all work to a standstill. But I didn’t want to leave any room for doubt.

I licked my lips, realizing my mouth had gone dry staring at Charlie’s well-striped arse. Gently, I guided her to her feet. Charlie refused to meet my eyes, staring at the floor.

“Will you ever lie to me again?” I asked.

“No, captain,” she whispered.

“Will you ever strike me again?”

“No, captain,” she repeated.

“I will protect you. I won’t allow any of the men to touch you. But I expect full obedience. Do you understand?”

She licked a tear by her lips. “Yes, captain.”

As she re-dressed, I shook my head, plagued by the lingering image of Charlie the boy and possessed by the desire to claim Charlotte the girl.

This whole damn thing is too confusing.

Focusing on the matter at hand, I marched Charlie onto the quarterdeck.

“Let’s get this over with,” I ordered. “Hands on the mast.”

Charlie obeyed without question. Sniffling, she grasped the mast as if the wood could provide some comfort. At least it gave a place for her to hide her head in her arms as I yanked down her breeches and drew up her shirt, displaying her thoroughly punished backside for all the crew to see.

You brought this on yourself. If I don’t show them, they’ll do worse.

“She’s been punished and she’ll continue to be dealt with by me and me alone,” I announced to the crew. I let Charlie’s shirt fall, quickly covering her backside against some of the more lecherous stares. “I will decide her fate,” I declared, folding my arms and angling to stand in front of Charlie.

“If any man on this ship acts with anything less than the standards of propriety I’ve set forth concerning women, he will be shown no mercy and will have forfeit any claim on his life.” I held each man’s eyes as I scanned the crew and broke down the meaning. “You understand me. Touch her and you’ll be lashed to death and tossed overboard.”

“Robert,” I said, hoping to keep my enemy close and drunk on the power I knew he relished. I hoped, if not to have him on my side, to at least neutralize him by offering a shiny toy I knew he enjoyed -- the suffering of others and the ability to cause it. Like Maurice.

“You’re in charge of any justice that needs meting out,” I told him. “If you hear any griping or dissent from the crew, you have my permission to dole out however many warning lashes you think it merits.”

Distracted for the time being, Robert grinned and nodded.

Turning to leave, I first stopped by Conks and whispered, “Bring salve from the infirmary to my room.”

I grabbed Charlie’s hand but on our return to my cabin, her legs wobbled so much that I had to half carry her. She was both too terrified and too tired to fight me. When we reached the threshold of my cabin, she tensed and tried to pull away.

“Shh…” I hushed. “I’m not going to punish you anymore.” Tonight, qualified a voice in my head. I can’t make promises about the future. “I’m only intending to keep you safe in here for the night, until I figure out what to do with you.”

Charlotte’s head fell in submission and I escorted her into my cabin. A knock came a moment later and I collected the jar of soothing ointment from Conks.

Charlotte didn’t protest as I laid her flat on my bed. I pulled down her breeches once more and scooped a generous amount of the salve into my hand.

Even with the lightest of touches, Charlie gasped and whimpered as I spread the soothing ointment over her punished legs and arse. I was careful not to touch too deeply between her legs, though I had to dip my fingers slightly into her cheeks to rub the ointment where the tip of my belt had occasionally snapped. Whipped into compliance, she didn’t protest. Between her soft whimpers, she sighed.

I’d meant to carry her into the brig, to sort out what to do with her on the morrow, but when I heard her even breathing, I realized she’d fallen asleep in my bed, bottom still on display. I started to lower her shirt to cover her, then thought better of it. It was nothing I hadn’t seen already and it looked like any contact with cloth would be painful. I also couldn’t make myself move her. Instead, I pulled one of the chairs next to the bed and watched Charlie as she slept. Her head was turned to the side and I let myself imagine what she’d look like with longer hair. Would it wave or curl, those long strands of honey whipping with the sea’s winds?

Not that I could keep her aboard now. Could I?

My gaze fell upon her lips. How could I have been so foolish? How could we all? Those lashes, too. Pretty boy, we’d all called her when the sunlight reflected in her big eyes. Useless boy, when her muscles weren’t strong enough to do what we thought she should have been capable of. I cringed, remembering how roughly the men shoved and kicked her when she wasn’t quick enough with the day’s work. No wonder she’d caked herself in dirt and grime whenever possible. No wonder she hid under her tricorn hat and the loosest clothing available.

Charlie didn’t awaken, not even when I grabbed the salve and spread another layer on her skin.

And again, an hour or two later. Slowly, reverently, my hands moved.

What should I do with you, Charlie? Drop you at the nearest port?

Yes, of course. Women were bad luck upon a ship. You deceived us. Nothing but trouble can come of you.

I’d deposit her at Port Royal once we arrived. Though that still left the matter of her mother’s murderer, whom I’d vowed to bring to justice. But I could do that on my own.

Again I spread a layer of ointment over the soft globes of her arse, dipping my fingers into the balm and working it delicately across her tender flesh.

I repeated the process until I’d used the entire jar and the sky outside lightened to the gray of pre-morn.