Rum Sodomy And The Lash Ch 11

They were three days out of Marseilles and it would not be long before they caught up with the Fleur de Gascony. During a brief sojourn in the city, Prince had ascertained that the French galleon carried a cargo of luxurious items; fine cognac and wines, opulent fabrics and jewellery that would fetch a handsome price in any market.

Kitty had enjoyed her piquant taste of life on land and rather pined for it now it was over. They had spent a night at the beachside house of a rich associate of Prince's, wined and dined in fine style, with dancing and all the other folderol she missed so from her former life. But now she was back on board, with more seasickness and disgusting food to look forward to, as well as a potentially dangerous raid on an innocent vessel.

"Why so pensive, Kitty?" asked the Captain briskly, wolfing down the remnants of breakfast. "Cheer up; by evening you and I will be very much richer."

"Or deader," she moped. "I suppose I wish we could take our wealth and use it to establish ourselves on dry land in some country where we will be safe from the Navy and the elements."

The Captain stared then laughed. "You want domestic bliss from me? I'm afraid that will never be. That is not the man I am. But...I'm...intrigued to know that you would consider making a life with me."

"Oh, I would," she replied, impassioned. "I....believe I love you."

"What is this foolishness? Love? Is this another of your schemes?" The Captain stood, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, his look daring Kitty to persist.

"I know you don't trust me," she pouted. "But I hope one day you will. I hope you will...feel for me too."

He strode over, wrenched her chin up and kissed her until she could not breathe.

"Stay in the cabin," he said gruffly. "This is man's work today." And he left her with her stale croissant and jar of apricot preserve, brooding on her future.

*

Kitty watched idly through the porthole as the cannons were loaded, blunderbusses primed and swords sharpened. She wondered what the catching feeling at the back of her throat was and then realised that it was fear. Not fear that the raid would be unsuccessful – Prince was completely accurate in his self-assessment as the Mediterranean's most efficient and impressive pirate captain – but rather a fear that he would be hurt in the struggle, maybe even killed. What would she do now if she lost him? And what would become of her if he no longer stood between the crew of the Orchid and her? She shuddered to think.

The tide drew them inexorably towards the French merchant vessel, now close enough to observe the consternation infecting the decks. Little crewmen running hither and thither, preparing to defend their cargo but standing no chance against the firepower and sheer savagery of the Orchid. Within minutes they were alongside and Captain Prince was leading his men into the ambush. She watched them leaping from deck to deck with abandon, listening the clashing of cutlasses and shouts of combat. A few shots rang out, from personal firearms rather than cannon or grenade and she wondered vaguely if her medical 'expertise' might be called upon today.

She tired of the spectacle and threw herself down on the bed, fingering the expensive cameo necklace the Captain had procured for her from some illicit dealing or other. It irked her sometimes that she was kept so separate from all the action; a bird in a gilded cage. Would that ever change? Would the Captain ever believe her declarations of love? She drifted into a doze, sleeping through all the alarum and clamour of the raid until the door was bludgeoned open and a brace of crewmen rushed in, their faces pictures of agitation.

"What? What is it? Is it the Captain?" Kitty jumped off the bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and restored to full alertness in seconds. Her heart raced and her skin was already clammy with fear.

"You're needed, Miss, on deck. The Captain has taken a bullet in his shoulder. 'Tis embedded there. Come quick now."

Kitty followed them, wondering how on earth she should tend to a bullet wound and trying to remember every scrap of information she had picked up from her studies as she flew down the ladder to the cluster of men surrounding the limp body of her lover.

"Kitty!" he managed to grind from between his dry lips. "Can you...help?"

She knelt beside him, ripping the already torn shirt further to get at the bloodied flesh. "Why could you not have been more careful?" she tutted, wincing in sympathy with him at the agonised look on his face as she examined the damage.

"Can't you...be a bit...gentler?"

She gave him a wan smile. "Still enough yourself to rebuke me. That's good. You, bring me a candle. You, fetch me a dagger." She stroked his lank hair from his sweat-beaded face, looking into his eyes as they flickered with pain. She had to do this properly, cleanly. It was bound to hurt though.

The men arrived with the knife and the candle. She held the blade into the flame, waiting impatiently for it to be hot enough to cauterise the wound.

"Why are you helping me, Kitty?" whispered the Captain. "You could let me die. You could be free."

"How do you know I don't mean to stab you with this knife?" she replied with a tight smile. "Perhaps I should do it now."

She plucked the dagger from the flame and made a swift downward motion toward the Captain's chest, stopping inches above his heart and moving it to the mess of torn flesh further up.

"Very funny, Kitty." His voice had almost disappeared amidst the wheezes of his chest. "I deserved that, I suppose."

She inserted the blade as decisively as she could into the entry wound, trying to ignore the Captain's piteous shriek as she jiggled it around, finding the hard metal object and coaxing it out of its hiding place. It would not do to panic.

"Be a man, for pity's sake," she snapped at Prince, who continued to howl like a baritone banshee until the little round cause of all the trouble slipped out and was snatched up for a souvenir by the avid crewmen. Breathing heavily with the weight of her relief, Kitty tore the Captain's shirt into strips and stuffed one into the gaping hole left by her crude surgery.

"Bring him up to the cabin," she directed. "I have clean dressings there. Do you have any opium on board?"

"Of course."

"Perhaps you could get him some? To ease the pain?"

The Captain's long, lean body was shouldered by two of his burliest crew, who helped him up to the cabin. Kitty had them deposit him on the bed before removing the torn old shirt from the wound and replacing it with a clean dressing from her supply cabinet. She knew the worst was not necessarily over; if the wound did not become infected it would be a miracle. But Prince was a strong man; if anyone's body stood a chance of fighting off a terminal sepsis it was his.

"Kitty," he slurred a little while later, his head full of opium dreams. "Get us a bottle of rum, will you?"

"I hardly think that now is the time for drinking!"

"Just do it, woman." Even in his narcotically addled state, Prince was not a man to be disobeyed. Kitty sighed and fetched a bottle from the other room. "Take the cork out and splash it on the wound, Kit."

"What?"

"Don't ask me why; it's just the pirate custom. Do it."

Shrugging, Kitty splashed a small amount of rum on the mangled flesh. She grimaced, seeing the Captain's body tense with pain and a hiss of air expelled from between clenched teeth.

"Thank you. You're a diamond, Kit. You're my diamond. You should have killed me but instead you saved me. I will see you crowned Queen of the Barbary Coast, my love."

"You're raving," said Kitty dispassionately. But secretly she was thrilled. She lay down beside him on the bed, stroking the knuckles of his right hand until he fell into a vivid swirling sleep.

*

The Captain was incapacitated for a surprisingly short time. Praise be that his wound did not become infected, and within a day, he was striding around the decks issuing orders and overseeing the daily running of the ship.

It was only in the bedroom that the Captain's injury became more apparent; he was unable to throw Kitty around with his usual abandon, and commented ruefully that his spanking arm would be out of commission for some time.

"So I can get away with anything I like?" she teased cheekily, propping herself up beside him in bed and moving her hand down towards the nest of curls that housed his semi-erect tool. Thank God that hadn't taken a bullet, she thought. He slapped her hand away and grasped her wrist in fingers that seemed to want to test the delicate flesh to destruction.

"Oh, I don't think so, Kitty. For one thing, I have a very long memory. And for another, there are many other ways to keep a saucy wench like you on her best behaviour."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really." His unflawed arm was powerful enough in its own right to guide Kitty seamlessly into a straddling position over his loins.

"Let go of my wrist," she fumed, struggling, but his grip was like iron. He pulled her down low, so that her parted under-lips rubbed against his stiffening cock, enjoying the way her juices coated him with natural lubricant so that she slipped and slid in an erotic rotation. Soon her half-lidded eyes revealed that she was moving beyond a point of resistance, and he released his hold on her wrist, placing his hand instead on her hip and exerting more control on her perilous descent into wanton lust.

Now fully tumescent, he pinched at her flesh to bring her attention back to him, stabbed upwards with his weeping tip and commanded, "Sit on it."

"Oooh," she moaned, positioning herself above the feared and adored instrument and edging herself carefully down so that she felt every inch of the thick, hot flesh spearing into her. It seemed to take an immensely long time to get all the way down until she rested, crammed to the hilt, upon his pelvis. She rested awhile to accustom herself to the novelty of her vantage point. This was a position seldom permitted by the Captain, who preferred to reinforce his mastery of her by choosing manners of coupling that placed her at his mercy – usually he would be behind or on top of her, or perhaps to the side, or occasionally pushing her up against a wall or item of furniture. The whole point was that she was submitting, surrendering, opening herself to him.

She was doing so here as well, but somehow it felt different. Perhaps more intimate? She could not really avoid looking at his face unless she lowered her eyes to the expanse of his chest. But then her line of vision was drawn to the messily healing wound on his shoulder. So yes, his face was best. His eyes were fiercely determined and his jaw set in a way that meant business. He rolled his pelvis beneath her and snapped out an order to start moving while his good hand freed her hip and smacked down on her bum instead.

"And make it a hard ride, Kitty. I want to watch your tits jiggle for me." He was able to move his other hand to brush against a nipple and Kitty drew a sharp breath, beginning in earnest her task of sliding up and down the shaft embedded within her. She was too slow at first,as the Captain's hand on her arse cheek reminded her, so she began to pick up in speed, obeying all the instructions thrown at her to clench her muscles tightly, to bend forward, to grip his uninjured shoulder for purchase, to griiiiiind as hard as she could, harder, faster, harder, faster. Slaps fell uncompromisingly on bottom and thigh as she strained to comply with her forceful lover's wishes, but it was such difficult work. Her brow was beaded with perspiration, her thigh and buttock muscles beginning to ache, her nether regions damp with exertion and stinging with the intensity of the friction.

"Oh, Sir," she panted in exhaustion. "I can't....I cannot...I am...."

"Yes you can," he gritted with such a powerful smack to her rump that she cried out. "I've just noticed that my left hand is just as good for spanking with as my right. Now keep it up, lazy wench, if you don't want to spend the day in the corner with your red bum on view."

"Ooooh," moaned Kitty, beside herself with tiredness and feeling that her limits were not far off. The Captain moved his right hand to her backside, pushing at her despite the pain it caused him, bending her further down so that her breasts slapped against his chest with each thrust. And now Kitty was aware of burning pressure on her clitoris, which was stroked by the base of the Captain's cock each time she sawed back and forth. He grabbed a generous handful of her rear and put as much as he could into forcing her hard all the way down his shaft, pumping maniacally inside of her until she began to keen and tighten against him and at last he could give her all he had, shooting and spurting while she wailed into his neck before collapsing sweatily on to his unblemished shoulder, fighting for breath and whimpering brokenly.

"How does it feel to do the lion's share of the work for once, Kit?" asked the Captain, playing absently with her lank hair.

"I am so tired," she gasped. "So tired. So sore."

"Really? Show me."

Kitty did not want to, but she sat up and spread her legs to show the Captain what she meant. She was indeed reddened from chafing and swollen, his seed leaking from puffy lips. He noted with satisfaction the several distinct scarlet handprints that graced her bottom and thighs. Good work. Nobody could mistake that this was a girl who had been thoroughly fucked.

"I'm glad somebody shares my pain at any rate," he said laconically before pulling her back down to nestle in his functional arm. "My little lifesaver," he crooned, kissing the tip of her nose. "Where would I be without you, Kit?"

"You will never be without me," she replied dreamily. "I will stay with you."

"Do you mean that?" He sent an exploratory fingertip down her cheekbone, finishing at her soft lips.

"I truly do."

*

Kitty flounced through the streets of Naples on the Captain's arm, glorying in the envious glances of the low-grade whores and cutpurses that frequented the dockside areas. With her gown of finest silk and exquisite diamonds adorning her graceful neck, Kitty knew that she would ordinarily have a knife at her throat in these seedy alleys before you could say 'banditti', but not even the worst of the local scumbags wanted to risk a confrontation with Captain Prince.

The Captain and Kitty were accompanied on their early evening passegiatta by one of Naples' most renowned rapscallions, Arturo Mancini and his lady, Maria.

"I tell you, the food is..." Mancini paused and kissed his fingertips to indicate the excellence of the cuisine at the house he was escorting them to. "Baldini has the best chef in town."

"And he really knows how to throw a party," added Maria with an arch look at Kitty. "I think you will be especially...popular."

"Oh. Thank you," said Kitty, not quite catching the tenor of Maria's glance. She felt the Captain's arm stiffen.

"If some kind of Roman-style orgy is planned, I must advise you that Kitty will not be participating."

Mancini laughed and tutted. "Capitan! You must be in love! You do not want to share this beautiful flower with those who would love to take a deep draught of her scent?"

The Captain's spine maintained its poker straightness as he hissed, "Kitty is a lady."

Both Arturo and Maria fell about laughing. Their acquaintance with Prince was longstanding, and his reputation for licentiousness was well-known to them, having been proven in their company on several occasions. Indeed, Maria herself had found herself underneath him amidst a sea of heaving bodies at least twice in the past. Where had this sudden propriety come from?

"So am I!" cried Maria. "A real woman, as you well know."

Kitty shot the Captain a furious glance.

Maria tugged seductively at her shawl, exposing an expanse of olive-toned décolletage. "I was so looking forward to seeing you again, Jakey. All of you," she purred.

"Not tonight, Maria," he said tightly.

Maria flitted back to Arturo and began to subject him to a rapid-fire burst of loud, plaintive Italian. Arturo shook his head and sighed with relief when they reached their destination – a tall, thin town house on the fringes of the district but notably grand for the area wherein it was situated.

Their host, Luigi Baldini, was a wealthy businessman; however, it was whispered in the politer reaches of Neapolitan society that his gains were ill-gotten. And indeed, they weren't far wrong. Baldini was an unscrupulous operator who would stoop to pretty much anything to add to his substantial coffers.

The short, balding man proffered his hand, extending genial greetings to the Captain and Kitty.

"I am delighted to meet you," he averred. "Arturo has always spoken so highly of you. He says you are the best supplier of, shall we say, creatively obtained luxury goods working the Meditterranean."

"He speaks the truth," said the Captain immodestly, baring his teeth in his notably sharklike smile. "And your reputation speaks for itself, Signor Baldini."

"Oh, please, call me Luigi. And this is your beautiful...companion?"

"Lady Catherine Tremayne," said the Captain with a flourish, causing Kitty to wince and pinch nervously at his arm. She had been uncomfortable when she had been introduced thus to Arturo and Maria, but Prince had laughed at her, asking her how she thought a pair of Neapolitan rogues would have heard of a murder committed in England. All the same, her heart burned and she flushed deeply at the words, despising the look on Baldini's face. Impressed by nobility. And the Captain was playing on this, using her birth to enhance his buccaneering ladykiller image.

"Milady," said Baldini softly, eyebrows raised, offering her his arm as they swept upstairs to the dining room.

A large gathering of swarthy middle-aged men with their courtesan lady friends awaited the guests of honour. Kitty found herself transported back to the elegant dinners of her past, despite the company being rather rougher than what she was accustomed to. The food was indeed superb and the wine flowed plentifully. Both she and the Captain were much admired and she felt rather like a Queen at a state banquet with her King.

A string quartet struck up a waltz and Kitty and the Captain led the dancing. He was an excellent dancer and Kitty, who had never taken this pleasure with him before was surprised until she remembered that he had once been a gentleman. They spun dizzily around the floor, Kitty breathless and transported in his arms, the Captain's unflinching eyes boring into her as the music's whirl drove them onward. The strains of a quadrille died away and as Kitty cast about the room for signs of the next dance, she gasped at what met her eye.

Over on a sofa against the wall, not three feet from them, a young woman's breasts had escaped from their tight-laced confines and were being enthusiastically manhandled by two men. Everywhere in the room, couples and trios were in different states of semi-undress, joined at the mouth or more.

"Ah, I see the entertainment has commenced," said the Captain drily.

"You wouldn't...." stammered Kitty, unwilling to share her private places with any other than her pirate master now.

"No, Kitty, I will not share you. But we will have to join in. 'Twill seem unusual else, and draw attention to us."

"But...with everyone looking!" objected Kitty, stumbling as the Captain dragged her over to a spare divan.

"I rather think the other guests are rather more caught up in their own pleasures," murmured Prince, settling between a pair of snogging whores being cheered on by some younger men and Maria, involved in alternating kisses with Arturo and Baldini. Kitty submitted mutely as the Captain pinned her down and captured her mouth, watching with corner-of-the-eye fascination the goings-on at her right hand. Arturo had wrenched Maria's top down while Baldini was lifting her skirts, moving his suntanned, wrinkled hands up her nude legs all the way to the top. Then Arturo's tongue was in Maria's mouth, while Baldini's lapped between her legs, both men having custody of a breast apiece. Kitty, although aghast at the sight, could not deny that she was also mysteriously aroused by it, and she responded to Prince's osculatory attentions with ever deeper sensual enthusiasm, pushing her tongue against him and biting his lip until he exclaimed and she realised that the rusty-tasting liquid in her mouth was his blood.