Rum Sodomy and the Lash
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Rum, Sodomy And The Lash Ch. 04 free porn video
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 nee
ded 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.
Lauryn
- 05.12.2021
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