"Somebody was very, very tired last night." His mocking voice in her ear. She twisted her neck around to find him crouched beside her, fully-clothed having apparently been up and about for some time. "Good morning, Kitty. Breakfast is served."
"Why am I tied up?" she asked him crossly. "Release me immediately."
He shook his head. "It takes a long time for a lesson to sink in with you, doesn't it, Kitty? Never mind; I have the time and the inclination to pursue your education." He began to unfasten the bonds, ankles first.
"I restrained you because I could not be sure I wouldn't be called away during the night, and I didn't want any foolhardy nonsense from you. I can't have you getting stuck in the rigging or falling overboard. Or worse, falling into an unfriendly bunk. It was for your own safety, my dear."
"I am not your dear. And I'm not interested in your pathetic attempts to justify your inexcusable behaviour. I just want to get off this ship at the first port of call and let you get on with your...piracy."
Captain Prince untied the final knot around her wrist and grinned down at her as she drew her naked body to its full height. Almost a foot shorter than his, and immeasurably punier. The look in her eyes was bigger than she was though, and he revelled in the thought that there would be lots of feistiness to tame today. Excellent; his favourite hobby.
"Surely you must have something I can wear?" she complained.
"You can wear one of my shirts," he offered.
"Very well." She waited for him to move and get one for her, but he maintained his maddeningly overpowering stance and sharky gold-toothed smile.
"Outside this cabin, that is." His eyes twinkled most vexatiously. "Inside with me, you will remain nude at all times."
"It is...unseemly," stormed Kitty, driven near insane by this imbalance of power. "You must let me dress."
"I must? I think not. A little humbling will be good for your soul, Miss... 'Smith'." The sarcastic inverted commas around her invented name were audible. "You'll try to be high and mighty with me, no doubt, but you won't be able to forget that every inch of your toothsome little body is displayed to me. Come. Breakfast." He took her hand, snatching it into his despite her efforts to withdraw it. "And then I believe we have some business to attend to."
The straw-clutching hope that he might have forgotten his promise melted away. Kitty swallowed unhappily and followed him into the cabin.
The table was set with some slices of overripe apple, stale bread and a flagon of ale.
"Beer for breakfast?" Kitty made a horrified face.
"Of course," said the Captain smoothly, "What did you expect?"
"A dish of tea."
He laughed heartily.
"And yet you insist you are not a noblewoman. 'A dish of tea'. When would a Bristol street girl ever have tasted such a delicacy?"
Kitty looked down silently at the table, kicking herself for her mistake.
"Stale bread and bruised fruit?"
"This is luxury, Kitty. Wait until we are a few days out of port and all of that is gone. Hard tack and maize gruel for us, my dear. The breakfast of real men."
"Hard tack?"
"A sort of biscuit. You have to watch for the weevils though."
"Ugh!" The Captain chuckled again at her naïve dismay. He was as sure as he could be that this girl was not used to roughing it in any way. Which brought him to the next item on the day's agenda.
"Well, then, Kitty. Last chance. Your real name and reasons for running away to sea, if you please."
Kitty stared into the flagon, avoiding his eye. "I've told you," she muttered.
He slapped his thigh beckoningly. "Over my knee, then, young lady."
"But it's the truth," she wailed histrionically.
"I'm waiting."
She sat fidgeting with the crust, stalling for time. If he thought she was going over there willingly, like some naughty child....
"Kitty, if I have to come and fetch you, you will be very, very sorry."
She kicked the chair aside mutinously and marched across to the insufferable bastard, throwing herself over his lap in the hope that his leg might break with the force of it.
"Steady," he cautioned, reaching for her wrists and pinioning them behind her back as he had done the last time. "A defiant attitude will not spare you, my dear; rather the opposite."
She steeled herself for what she knew would be a long and painful ordeal.
Slap! The first stroke fell at the crease of buttock and thigh, a singularly sensitive spot and she made a small yelp straightaway. The Captain noted it with satisfaction; she would find this less and less bearable with each punishment. He was correct in his thinking; within minutes the fresh smarting overlaying the previous night's residual soreness was creating a veritable furnace on Kitty's unfortunate arse. By five minutes she was whimpering and wriggling haplessly; by ten lusty yells of protest were coming thick and fast, but the Captain did not let up the pace or weight of his chastisement in the least.
A very brief respite came ten minutes in when Kitty heard the Captain say, "Yes, you may clear the table and go, Tom." To her intolerable mortification, Kitty saw the cabin boy from the corner of her eye, gathering up the breakfast plates while the Captain spanked relentlessly on and her exposed backside reddened and soared in temperature. Her little mewl of 'No' at being observed thus was swiftly understood by the Captain, who capitalised on it without further ado.
"Take a moment to watch Miss Smith's correction, Tom," he invited. "Sit down and take notes. Miss Smith has been dishonest and discourteous and now her bottom is paying the price. This is an excellent way to train subordinates to behave properly. You may find yourself in the same position one day, Tom. My one piece of advice to you is: don't spare the rod." He emphasised each word of his closing maxim with an especially stinging smack, before waving his hand to signify that the cabin boy could leave.
"You're a tough nut to crack, Kitty," noted the Captain. "But you will yield."
He let his red-faced, sobbing quarry stand before him while he appraised her coolly.
"We will repeat the exercise after lunch, Kitty. In the intervening hours, you will polish my brasses for me. I expect to be dazzled. Good morning."
He left Kitty to her domestic duty, taking care to lock the door behind him.
Kitty spent the morning sitting on her sore behind at the table, rubbing the brasses until their sheen rivalled that of a mirror. It was lucky, she thought, that this work was so dull and repetitive. It gave her plenty of opportunity to exercise her creative talents and come up with a plausible story to relay over lunch. There was no way she was getting spanked again; her poor bottom would not stand it.
By lunchtime, Kitty was confident that she had spun the perfect tale and she positively looked forward to the Captain's return. It would be a small private victory to pull the wool over his piercing eyes; she would feel that she had won back a shred of her dignity and self-respect.
So when Captain Prince blew back into the cabin and picked up a few of the brasses to check their state of cleanliness, she was ready for him.
"You've polished these up well," he complimented her. "Now will I need to polish your bum after lunch, or are you going to tell me who you really are?"
Kitty drew a deep breath. "I'm Catherine Winkworth," she announced. "A lady from Bath."
