Constance passed several miserable days in her lonely room. She was permitted to roam the fortress or the village, but escape was impossible because there was no way to leave the island save by ship. And all the ships were those of the Black Falcon's fleet. They ranged from swift sloops to monstrous galleons bristling with cannons, and every man, woman, and child in Falcon Bay was loyal to the Merlions.
She had Marie for company, and took a peculiar sort of comfort in knowing that her mother had spent two years here, during Anna deGranville's time as a captive of Philippe Merlion. Not that she sensed any lingering ghost of her mother's presence.
Daily, she was plied anew with the potion that fanned the flames of her arousal, while being unable to relieve the turbulent pressure. She felt she might burst, might fly apart into a thousand pieces. Sleep eluded her at night, when she would toss and turn in her bed, unable to rest comfortably with the belt locked around her loins. She picked at her meals, and gave up seeking what empty solace she could in Marie's arms.
Oh, this could not go on, this must end. One way or another, it had to end soon or she was certain she would take leave of her sanity.
And then, five days after the
Falcon
had sailed away, its flag was sighted returning. Cheers rose up all over the village, and people swarmed to the docks to welcome the crew home. Constance could only see shapes, not enough detail to recognize any of them in the dusk's purple light.
She waited with dread, but nothing happened until the next morning. Then Marie, flushed with excitement, hurried into Constance's room.
"Marie, what news?"
"Success, my lady!" It dawned noticeably on Marie's face that perhaps Constance might not react gladly to such news, and she faltered. "I mean … they've come back."
"And my father?" She almost hoped that in the attack, her father had been shot and killed. He would have at least then died believing her innocence. Much as she loved him, she would rather he'd been slain than witness the show Jacqueline seemed determined to put on.
"They have him," Marie said.
Constance's heart sank. What hideous anguish for him … and a familiar one, reliving how it must have been when her mother's ship was taken. Except this would be worse, far worse, for he had always been so diligent in protecting her. He couldn't have known that her doom would come from within the very walls of the sheltered family estate.
"Time, my lady. Time to make you ready."
"I shan't," Constance said. "I'll not let her do this. It isn't fair that she should hate me so, when I've done nothing to her. Have the Merlions not harmed my family enough? Did you know, Marie, that my own mother was kidnapped by Philippe Merlion, and held by him for two years?"
It was as if she hadn't spoken. Marie was bustling about, laying out a fine dress of white linen more suitable for a bride than a prisoner. She pulled at the laces on the frock Constance was wearing, and looked puzzled when Constance batted her hands away.
"No!"
"But it's Jacqueline's orders."
"Bugger her orders!" Constance spat, startling herself. "And bugger Jacqueline as well! I will not go."
If her father saw her as Jacqueline would have him see her, arranged on a platform like a sacrifice, and taken by one man after another, it would shatter his very soul. Hers, as well. How he would
look
at her, never again with love in his gaze, always thereafter seeing her as the naked whore.
Bad enough if he had to observe her ravishment. But for him to see her respond … as she was cursed to do, by weeks of neglect and the heightened effects of the potion … that would be the unkindest thing of all! He
might
, though it was only the slimmest of chances, hold her less to blame for what happened if he thought her to be suffering, or merely enduring. Should she allow her terrible, vile passions to arise …
Marie had the insolence to give her a chiding look, as if Constance were being a difficult child who did not want to don her Sunday best for church. "Now, my lady –"
"I will not, I say!"
With a world-weary sigh, Marie went to the door and called into the hall. Moments later, Michel appeared, and gazed sternly at Constance.
"Please, Michel," she pleaded, extending her hands toward him. "You know that what your sister means to do is beyond cruel."
"We lost two men and six others were wounded taking your father's ship," he said. "I won't have that be for naught, Constance."
"Jacqueline caused that with her insistence on this abominable act," she said.
"Be that as it may,
cherie
, we've not gone through so much for nothing. Put on your lovely white gown, and let us to the courtyard. Your father and brother have whiled away the night in the dungeon, and –" "Brother?" She tottered, nearly swooning. "Rob is here?"
"He was aboard the ship with your father. It amused Jacqueline mightily to bring them both. Lord William has been ranting, foaming at the mouth like a dog, damning us to hell and back, demanding to see you. Do not disappoint him."
"I will not do this. Have you no heart, no decency?"
"You are a prisoner, Constance," Michel said. "Ours to do with as we will. We could have used you as we did Beatrice, we could have flayed you for our amusement, we could have sold you to some sultan … you are not a guest here. This is what Jacqueline wants done, and so it shall be done."
"She is a madwoman!"
"She is a great captain. If she has ill will toward your family, well, she has her reasons."
"What reasons? Why should she hate us so? None of your other captives have been mistreated this way."
"We haven't time for this. Permit Marie to dress you, or I'll hold you down and strip you by force."
There was no compromise in his tone. She saw that he meant what he said. It broke something within her, some fragile dream she hadn't even realized she'd had. There might have been a time when she felt fondly toward this emerald-eyed rogue of her dreams, and fancied that he found her special as well. But he would not take her side against Jacqueline's. He would not rescue her. Indeed, he would take part in her public shame, if that was Jacqueline's bidding. He would fuck her in front of her father, and fuck her so well that she could not possibly fail to spend.
Constance quit resisting and stood motionless as Marie slipped off one dress and replaced it with another. She had been bathed only the night before, so her skin was satiny and powder-smooth, her hair a rippling golden curtain.
It was going to happen, she knew. Nothing could stop it. The British fleet was not going to arrive in the very nick of time to save her, nor was Michel going to defy Jacqueline. She would be placed on display, made a spectacle, and her poor dear father would have to see all.
She could not let him think that she enjoyed in any way what would be done to her. She
must
not. She must show no signs of pleasure, no matter what acts were performed upon her body.
When she was ready, Michel and Marie escorted her downstairs and out into the balmy sun of the courtyard. A crowd was already gathered, sailors and townspeople jostling for position.
At the bottom of the steps, in an enclosure momentarily shielding them from the gaze of the spectators, Marie hiked Constance's skirt and Michel produced a tiny key. He used this to open the locks at her hips, and her skin sobbed with relief as the constricting metal of the chastity belt was finally lifted away.
Marie brought out a bucket of warm water and a rag, and sponged the regions that had been concealed. Red, chafed spots marked her body here and there, but the water coursing over her was purest bliss. She let her head fall back, and sighed, as Marie tenderly washed her.
"It'll be better soon, my lady," Marie said, rubbing the rag in slow circles on Constance's mound. "Soon you'll have a nice cock seeing to you."
"I cannot go up there like this. Please, Michel," she said, turning tearful eyes on him. "Do not make me spend in front of my father."
His reply was to kiss her, and nudge Marie's hand aside to probe with a long, strong finger into her. She shuddered and pressed against him, hating herself even as she nearly screamed with delight.
"The state you're in,
cherie
," he murmured against her mouth, "I don't think that's possible. Now, up you go."
He slapped her on the bottom, making her squeal. Her skirt fell around her shins, the cloth caressing her buttocks. As Constance climbed the steps, feeling like a condemned woman on her way to the gallows, or the stake, or the executioner's block, she was vividly aware of the way her legs rubbed together. No metal was in the way, and when she squeezed her thighs together, she felt the wonderful friction on her cunny lips, and clitoris.
She climbed onto the platform, and the crowd whistled and cheered as she came into view. Most of the crew stood around the wooden bed-like construction. She saw that Jacqueline's familiar leather chair had been brought from the captain's cabin and set up at the edge of the bed. The blonde pirate woman was lounging in it, in her customary pose, but her relaxed posture was belied by the wild merriment in her eyes, and the white knuckles where her hands gripped the armrests.
"Tie her," she said.
"Jacqueline, please, no, do not do this," Constance said, although she knew it was useless.
Michel picked her up and placed her on the wooden structure. Its surface had been covered with a padded cushion, a consideration that seemed absurd in light of the rest of it. Some of the men stepped forth to help him as they brought Constance's arms over her head, and bound her wrists to the rail. Her ankles were spread apart, one tied to the rail, the other to the short post. The skirt of her gown draped her curves, rising in peaks over her breasts, falling into the long valley of her parted thighs. "Now send for the prisoners," Jacqueline said. She grinned at Constance. "Your devoted brother is here with us, as well."
"Why, Jacqueline? At least tell me that! What has our family ever done that you should hate us so? Have not the Merlions done enough to the deGranvilles already? My own mother was –"
Jacqueline's grin vanished. She fixed Constance with her cold blue gaze. "You still do not understand why I have such good reason to hate you, and your family?"
"Would that I did, for then this heartless business might make sense to me!"
