Sunlight bathing Dawn's cheek awoke her. She tried to stretch her limbs, but found it too strenuous for her battered body. Her head was pounding and her eyes seemed under a fog. She tried sitting up, forcing herself to do so, despite the dull pain that ebbed her strength. She rubbed her gray-green eyes with one hand just as the other fell upon a small hand on the bed. She turned, blinking hoping that it was Charles, but as her head slowly cleared she found that she had been lying close with Lady Catherine who was still sleeping, her body, and will exhausted. Dawn looked at her, first in slight surprise; but then for a long moment of pity as she scanned the crimson striping of Lady Catherine's flesh from the lashing Charles had metered out.
Dawn softly squeezed her bedmate's thin fingers and brushed some of her dark locks from her cheek with her own fingers. Turning to rise she forced her legs upon the deck. Her legs were sore from their stretching, her skin screaming as her own marks were pulled over her own straining muscles; but stand she did. Dawn felt woozy, but she steadied herself by leaning on the bedposts. Charles was nowhere to be seen and the cabin felt empty. A large silver tray was set on the desk with a variety of fruits and some only slightly molded bread. A pitcher of wine and two small silver goblets sat ready. Suddenly Dawn's hunger spoke through her pain and she staggered on weak limbs to the desk and sat in Charles' chair, plucking a piece of exotic fruit from the tray.
Dawn noticed to her delight that Charles, if not all his men, ate far better fare than she had experienced upon her former vessel. The foreign fruit was soft and sweet, its nectar lit her tongue in a remarkable way. Cherries, apples, and such she had tasted before, but the strange treats from Charles' larder were a delicacy. She poured herself a small glass of wine. The cool velvet contours of Charles' ornate chair seemed to mold to her tormented skin as she sat and ate. The food and wine seemed to fill her with a new strength, though she was truly still very weak.
Sitting there in the quiet of Charles' cabin she found herself cataloging the injuries to herself. The skin of her back and buttocks flamed against the velvet. The muscles in her legs and arms felt as if they were still pulled taught, and she rubbed her calves just above her ankles softly in thought. Then it struck her, her pussy, her womanhood was stretched pulled and on fire, as if it were lacerated, yet the sensations were sending impulses of exquisite pleasure to her brain.
With a half chewed piece of forgotten fruit still in her mouth, she stopped and put aside the half eaten morsel in thought. What had happened to her there? Suddenly her slow mind recovered bits of a white carved instrument, ridged and cut, sculpted and decorated.... Dawn nearly choked as she swallowed the bite in her mouth instinctively and leaned back in the chair. Her thighs parted quickly and she thrust a hand to her hidden spot. Before she knew what she was doing, she had two fingers probing her depths to discover if she was still carrying that oriental treasure in her pouch. Her fingers dove in to her heated slit and, though they found no object, they sent warm washes of sensation firing through her body. Her tortured inner walls ignited to her probing fingers and Dawn's every nerve exploded in a cresting tide of the pain of a finger on a fresh healing wound, and the immense pleasure of her own touch.
Dawn drew in a sharp breath, and forced her fingers from her passage, slick with her own fluids of love. She leaned back deeper into the chair as her own lustful fingers began a slow rhythmic dance over her external nub of desire. The lids half closed over her gray-green eyes and she sighed softly at her own touch. Her cheeks filled and puffed with her breath, as the rays of the bright sun reflected from the waves washed over her skin. Her hungry digits turned faster in their chase. Her other hand slowly reached and caressed her breast, pinching her nipple with precise pressure that sent shocks of pleasure through her bosom.
A small, but very welcome release shot through Dawn's soul and she gasped softly and sank softly into the chair. She half rolled into a ball in the chair and panted quietly. Her own medicine doing far more good for her mind's recovery than food, drink, or any of Fazul's treatments could. A lazy smile flooded her face as she laid her head on the strong arm of Charles' chair. For the first time in her life, she had strength, power over herself and her own fate. She was drunk on her own power, which she was just beginning to discover for herself. A quiet laugh escaped her lips as her mind mulled over the flush hand that fate had dealt to her. Though it had been but a few days ago, the lifelong woman's maid with no power in the world was gone as surely as if she had died. Now, Dawn was for the time at least a favored treasure of a pirate captain. Hundreds of eyes scanning her revealed flesh, she was sparking lust in the hearts of all the men that literally surrounded her; and that was very powerful indeed. For the first time in her life, she felt truly safe, truly alive.
Dawn stopped her musings as she heard a rustle and a quiet groan from the bed. She looked over at the pitiful sight of Lady Catherine as she tried with great difficulty to rise. Dawn watched her, Catherine looked like a ship after a harsh gale, bashed about the rocks and floundering as she cringed at her every attempt to push herself to a sitting position. Catherine had not led a life that led to the development of muscle tissue, nor was she very familiar to physical pain. She tried vainly for the third time and collapsed into the pillows with a slightly muffled sobbing groan.
"Damn the English bitch!" Dawn hissed under her breath as she pulled herself from the comforting pushiness of Charles' chair. Dawn could not exactly determine why she actually rose to help Catherine, other than she did not want to listen to the shrill whine that the Englishwoman had fine tuned to a tee. She stepped to the bed and started to lift Catherine from the mattress, "Now, now, milady," Dawn said with forced comfort in her voice, "let me help you, ma'am."
"Y-yes, Dawn," Catherine choked out of her dry lips. Dawn refused her usual smile to Catherine's failure to thank her. Dawn was actually cursing herself as she helped the poor woman from the bed and led her to a chair at the desk and offered her some of the fruit. Catherine cringed as Dawn lowered her into the hard wood chair. Catherine hurt too bad to protest what was running through her mind, 'the least the child could have done was put me in the velvet chair, has she lost her mind?' Catherine instead quietly took a piece of fruit and lifted it to her lips. She was acutely aware of every grain of wood in the chair as it pressed against her swollen buttocks and lash licked back. She held herself at a perfect posture, not out of any rigid sense of propriety, but her back would not take the bite of the wood. Therefore, Catherine held her back off the back of the chair.
Dawn sat back into Charles chair and reached for the wine. She refilled her goblet before pouring a fresh one for Catherine. She caught, just over the rim of the pitcher, the glance of daggers searing out of Catherine's brown eyes. Dawn lowered her eyes and to cover her slight cracking smile, she turned and looked out the window and commented, "The sea is quite beautiful today, mum," as she raised the goblet to her half smiling lips.
