Rum Sodomy And The Lash Ch 03

"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."

He held up a hand. "Let's hear your story over lunch, shall we. Tom!"

The cabin boy scurried in with platters of bread, cheese, cured ham and pickles, accompanied by the ubiquitous ale. Once again, he would not look at Kitty, for which she was grateful. It was impossible to forget that she was naked; the constant awareness of it butted into her every thought.

"Well, Catherine Winkworth. Tell me about yourself."

Captain Prince kept a hawklike eye on her face while she peddled him her lies.

"I come from Bath, and I'm afraid to say I have shamed my family and been cast out by my own father."

"How unfortunate. Why?"

"My sister Mary was engaged to be married to a fellow named Dudley. At a dance at the Pump Room, I caught his eye. We fell in love but had perforce to keep it a secret, for Mary's sake. Alas, my father caught us kissing on Pulteney Bridge and he threw me out and horsewhipped Dudley. Having nowhere to turn, I resolved to run away to America. And now I am here. With you. Hoping very much that you will set me down at your next port of call." Kitty popped a piece of cheese delicately into her mouth.

"Catherine Winkworth. What is your father's name?"

"John Winkworth."

"What is his business?"

"He is...a...trader in fine silks."

"I haven't heard of him."

"In a small way only, Captain Prince."

"What does your mother think of all this drama?"

"She is dead, Sir."

"Well, Kitty. I think that both you and your father have overreacted. It is my view that John Winkworth will even now be sitting in his warehouse bemoaning his hastiness in casting you out. You are his daughter -- he will forgive you."

"Oh...I think not."

"I am convinced of it. Indeed, so convinced am I that I will help you reunite with him. We are but two days out of Bristol; it will be small inconvenience to turn the ship around and take you home. I will deliver you to his door personally. What say you, Catherine Winkworth?"

The sarcastic emphasis on her made-up name rang very loud alarm bells in Kitty's head. Damn him! How could he know she was lying?

"He is not a forgiving man!" she flustered.

"Neither am I, Kitty. Especially when I am lied to."

"I'M NOT LYING!" She jumped up and stamped her foot with fury.

"You are a dishonest, manipulative little minx who is going to need a bucket of water to douse the fire on her buttocks by the time I have dealt with her misdeeds." He was approaching her with catlike prowl; she threw her arms forward as a shield and made a desperate bid for the cabin door.

The Captain made a lightning-swift blocking manoeuvre, placing himself between Kitty and the door and reaching out almost negligently for her flailing forearm, which he caught with ease.

"Come, Kitty, you should finish your lunch," he said with deceptive mildness, returning her to his chair and sitting her on his lap. She squirmed rebelliously, but his hold of her was extremely firm and she could not move far. He fed her from his hand, and she was so hungry that she grudgingly accepted his offerings. She would be needing all her strength, she thought despairingly. How was she ever going to get out of this nightmare?

She swallowed the last of the chewy loaf and began to shake with dread.

"Now then, Kitty, I think you know the form," said her captor softly.

"Please don't spank me again," she entreated, tears already gathering in her eyes. "I can't bear it."

"You can and you will," replied the unbending terror of the high seas.

Kitty allowed the tears to fall on to her cheeks, hoping this would unlock some chamber of his heart that was not irredeemably hardened. But it seemed he had none, and additionally, he knew when he was being played.

"Save the tears for later," advised the Captain briskly. "When I've given you something to cry about."

He positioned her over his thighs for the third time in seventeen hours. A ghostly tingle of anticipation was already drifting across Kitty's aching cheeks. The first slap fell with painful amplitude on her tormented flesh, provoking a yell of complaint from its recipient.

"You can stop this, Kitty," the Captain reminded her, refreshing the left side of her posterior with a fast salvo of stinging slaps. "All you have to do...is talk."

"I have nothing to tell you," she urged, feeling him renew the redness of her right cheek next. Oh God he had hardly started and she was afire; it could not be borne... but it was better than swinging from the gallows, so she kept her counsel despite the raging temptation to tell all and put an end to this fierce and humiliating punishment.

He applied his hard right hand to her boiling rear for fifteen agonising minutes. He had to admire her tenacity, and she his. They were as stubborn as each other, and he doffed a metaphorical cap to her in grudging homage. Torquemada would have had his work cut out with this wench.

Once more, an end was brought to proceedings when Tom appeared to clear the plates.

"She has no need of your sympathy, boy," barked Captain Prince, seemingly taking exception to the look on Tom's face. "She has asked for each and every stroke. Get out before I'm tempted to warm your rump as well." Tom disappeared instantly.

"There are only two conclusions I can draw from your obstinacy, wench," growled the Captain, warming his fingertips on Kitty's baking hot arse. "One is that the consequences of telling the truth are worse than a spanking. In which case I think I need to seriously consider going harder on you." Kitty squeaked. Not possible, surely. "Or...you secretly enjoy going over my knee. Is that it, Kitty? Do you like it? Shall I incorporate post-meal spankings into your daily schedule? Of course, I'm busy a lot of the time. Perhaps I could get a few crew to stand in for me now and again..."

"No," cried Kitty. How did a man learn to be so....awful?

"Well, Kitty," he said, tipping her on to her feet again. "I shall have to give it some thought. Your little backside will be bursting into flames soon." He took her into the bedroom and tossed her a shirt. "Here, put this on. You're scrubbing down the deck outside this afternoon."

Sullenly Kitty eased the capacious white shirt over her head. She had thought the Captain only wore black, so she was surprised to see he owned this snowy garment. "Special occasionwear," he told her, as if he had read her mind. "Though not for you. Swabbing the decks is hardly a treat."

Kitty gestured in frustration, noting that the shirt barely covered her behind. Were she to bend over in it, a glorious eyeful of her private parts would greet any onlookers.

"This is too short," she whined.

"It's long enough." The Captain's face made it plain that he would not be discussing the matter further and he took her hand to escort her outside for her first breath of fresh sea air that day.

It was not as hot as the day before, Kitty noted with some relief. A pleasant breeze cooled things down and the sky was scattered with light cloud. The Captain clicked his fingers, issued some curt instructions and before long a bucket of water and a scrubber were procured. The pirate who brought them ran hungry eyes over Kitty's legs before being summarily dismissed.

"Do not leave this deck, Kitty," ordered the Captain, "on pain of punishment so severe it will make those spankings seem like caresses. Do you understand? I will be close by; do not fool yourself that I won't know what you are doing."

"Yes, Sir," grouched Kitty.

"Good girl. Now get on your hands and knees and scrub." The Captain watched with idle amusement for a few minutes while a blushing Kitty did as she was bid. The hem of the shirt rode up as she laboured, making it plainly visible that she had been spanked, and hard. It was even possible to catch the odd glimpse of her forbidden fruits. He could watch this for hours...but no, he had to get on. Piracy didn't do itself.