The ropes at your wrists and ankles bite a bit as two of the more muscular men of his crew carry you, by those ropes, below deck and through the dark, maze-like corridors to the quarters of their captain. You hang limply between them, like so much meat being hauled to the spit. You have no choice. Your instinct is to rebel and fight against these captors, but you quickly realize the futility of that action. You relent yourself to your fate, for now.
They are neither unkind nor compassionate in their handling of you. You are just a piece of property to them, HIS property. You are tossed upon the bed in the room, which has a sturdy oak frame and four stout posts at each corner. Quicker than your eye can follow, a knife materializes in one of their hands and in two skillful strikes, sever the ropes that bind you.
They then step back and stare at you, eyes soaking in every detail of your naked body. Every curve is being absorbed in their observance, lingering upon your breasts and rigid nipples and then, of course, upon your neatly trimmed nethers. Once again you feel the stirrings of desire. These men obviously want you, want to take you, but you and they both know they can't. Suddenly your state isn't as nightmarish as you once thought. You have power over them. You know they can't touch you and you can use that.
You move slowly, as to not startle them into bellicosity, and looking as helpless as you can, you massage your wrists where the skin is flushed red from the irritation. They're eyes never leave you nor barely do they blink. They have noticeable bulges in their trousers and you can tell that their breathing is get heavier and quicker. You then move your hands down to your ankles and rub some of the irritation away.
Enjoying this newfound feeling of strength, knowing that they are staring at your hands, you slowly trace them up your calf, straightening out your fingers, sensually making a trail toward your ever dampening slit. They are mesmerized. You feel powerful. A rush begins to extend from your stomach and that rush turns into a wave of desire as your hands are lingering on the inside of your thighs. You lay back, the natural extension bringing your hands the rest of the way that their eyes were wanting them to go. Your breathing becomes quick and your nipples are achingly hard, begging to be licked, or pinched.
The crewmen's erections are as obvious as their dazedness. You feel control for the first time in your life. You have never felt such exhilaration, not even at your mansion, nor in the strokings of your daydream fantasies on the beach at your father's island home.
You have barely started your masturbations as a calm but strong voice fills the chamber.
"I see the young lady has found power of her own. You two are...dismissed". The voice is riddled with arrogance. The men, now suddenly clumsy, embarrassedly trip over themselves and hastily depart.
Your power is gone.
Gone with the rush of desire that was your control. You have gone from being the controller back to being the controlled. You hear the door close and the latch lock. You see his back is to you as he is locking the bottom latch to the door. Anger rises in you, both at your capture AND at his simple yet arrogant dispelling of the power you recently felt. Almost without thinking you lunge at your captor, only to be stopped short by self preservation.
He obviously anticipated the attack and you are currently staring down the barrel of his pistol.
He has a smirk on his face when he says, "Try that fool's trick again and I will not hesitate to end you, your beauty nor ransom not withstanding. Now get back on the bed".
The forceful will present in his voice that is so used to giving commands and having them obeyed, as well as the pistol currently pressed into your nose, leaves you no choice but to comply. You slowly back towards the bed and are about to lie down upon it when you feel a strong gloved hand upon your chest, strongly shoving you the rest of the way.
You sense that danger in his touch, a flash in his eyes. You know you can't resist or fight, and are his to do with as he pleases. Again that desire sends pulsations to your nethers. You feel you want to be defiant, yet know that it's futile.
He seems to sense that defiance as well for he still has the gun trained on you. That arrogant smirk is still on his face. He walks over to you, slowly, to tower over your naked and supine form on the bed. He holsters his flint-lock in his belt and reaches over you. You hear the rattle of chains and your heart skips a beat.
You start as he quickly grabs your wrists and forcefully pushes them above your head. You feel soft leather around your wrists and glance up at them and notice the restraints are worn leather. As you are straining to notice those restraints that are on your wrists, you feel similar ones upon your ankles. You glance down and see more worn leather.
You see him walk purposefully to the foot of the bed, bend down and grab a strong length of rope. He plants himself and gives a good pull and you feel the slack in your arms and legs tighten. He pulls harder and even more slack comes out of the chain until you are pinned to the bed and spread-eagled, open for his purposes.
He lashes the rope off at a belaying pin near the porthole. You feel more helpless than you've ever felt before as you realize that you are completely at his mercy. Thoughts fly through your head at lightning speed. How could I have gone from being helpless to being in control and then to being helpless again? Why isn't this like my daydreams? You feel like crying in hopelessness, yet your body is responding as if it's what you've always wanted. Your desperation is turned to arousal, your fear to desire. You understand that you are his property to do with as he pleases. Your mind doesn't want it, but you can't deny the wetness you feel and the gentle ache inside your groin.
You don't have much more time to evaluate the dichotomy between your thoughts and feelings, as you realize your captor has removed most of his clothing. He is strong of frame, with broad shoulders and a barrel chest. Well muscled arms that were hidden by his billowed shirt remove the rest of his clothing and you see that he is not even the slightest bit aroused.
You can't hide your disappointment, especially since you are very much aroused, and start to utter a sound relaying that fact when a hand clamps over your mouth with the speed of a striking viper.
"I don't recall ever telling you to speak, wench. You still haven't learned your lesson. I will have to coax the insolence out of you then..." The grip is intense, strong, unrelenting and unforgiving. You feel blood rushing to your jaw where his fingers left impressions and know that you are going to be bruised.
"Go on, try to struggle" returns the arrogance. You don't move. That helpless feeling returns and you feel that duplicitous hoplessness/arousal that you felt before.
