***Readers- This is the last story I have planned for Jack and Renee. There may be more stories in Caledonia and Baristhan, but if so, they'll feature new characters. Thank you for all your support, and I'm sorry it takes me so long to write. Any comments and suggestions for future stories are always welcome! Love, Iris***
*
Jack Griffin stopped outside of the mansion he owned and gazed at it for a moment. It was hard to believe this fantasy life he led was real. He had power, money, a life of luxury...and the sexiest 'fucktoy' this side of the moon.
He'd been thinking about her more lately. Sometimes when he listened to his peers arguing over trade routes, he caught himself picturing Renee instead. Clothed, unclothed, it didn't matter, she was fucking hot regardless. Back on the space station, he'd suspected something more lurked beneath her sterile scientist façade—but he'd hardly expected to find a submissive wildcat.
That might seem like an oxymoron, but it was the closest thing he could think of to describe her. She wanted him, needed the way he fucked her, but she always put up a bit of a fight, an attractive show of spirit. Could he have dreamed up a woman like her if he tried?
He strode into the foyer and without giving his chief of staff a moment's attention, headed straight for her rooms. He was ready to start the afternoon off right—with Renee strapped to the headboard taking his cock deep into the hot wet flesh of her pussy.
Grinning to himself, Jack pushed the door aside...and stopped grinning. He frowned and looked around the room. Then he scowled.
"GORM!" His voice echoed through the spacious mansion.
His chief of staff scuttled into view. "Yes, Master Giraiphin?"
"Where's my lianir?"
"I...I don't know, sir. She left several hours ago for the bathhouses. She took her personal guards, so I supposed that after she had finished there she visited you in the shipyards. She has done so in the past," he offered by way of excuse.
His chief of staff had served him well thus far, and under normal circumstances, Jack might have been inclined to go easier on him. But these were not normal circumstances.
He seized Gorm by his tunic and held his face close to his own. In a very quiet, very deadly voice he said, "You had better hope that you and I find her soon, otherwise you'll spend the rest of your life in the workhouses, understood?"
Gorm nodded.
With the help of the rest of his guards, Jack located the bathhouse where Renee was last seen and began interrogating the bathhouse attendants. They described a band of ruthless men—those damned pirates Jack had been warning the locals about. He was sure they were to blame. Imagining Renee and her luscious body surrounded by those men...
Jack groaned. He threw the hapless attendant to the ground and turned to address his small army. "Does anyone here know anything about boarding an armed ship?"
***
The ocean breezes whipped against Jack's linen kilt as he stood at the prow of his ship. A saber hung at his side. Two knives—one strapped beneath his kilt—the other strapped to his chest, ensured that he couldn't be disarmed easily.
They cut through the waves, the sails full overhead. The pirate ship appeared on the horizon. Jack swore he'd kill the ringleader himself.
***
With a marauder's cry, Jack led his men over the rails, his saber held high above his head. He fought through the ranks of the pirates, refusing to look in Renee's direction. He knew she stood tied between the mast and the rail. If he slipped, if he looked...he knew he'd be dead.
As his men cut down the pirate crew, Jack searched the deck. He spotted a man shouting orders from the forecastle. The captain must have seen him coming because he darted left toward Renee. A knife flashed in the sunlight.
Jack leapt. He seized a slat in the railing overhead and heaved himself up high enough to sweep his saber across the forecastle deck—right into the captain's hamstring.
The captain went down with a cry of pain. Jack dropped back to the main deck and scaled the ladder up to the forecastle. He held his saber to the captain's throat and growled, "Surrender."
"You bloody arrogant son of a bitch!" The captain tried to spit in Jack's face but missed.
Jack pressed the tip of his blade a little deeper into the captain's throat.
The captain gurgled. "I surrender," he rasped.
His men had the rest of the pirates bound and tied to the masts. Jack stepped back and motioned for them to come and tie the captain up as well, but a flash of movement caught the corner of his eye. He flipped his saber around in his wrist and plunged it through the captain's heart. The captain's knife clattered to the deck.
Relief flashed through Jack's frame. He turned to where Renee stood, and emotions of a different variety replaced his relief. Her breasts stood out against her chest, discolored from lack of circulation. Her face was streaked with tears. Her beautiful, tender skin had been completely exposed to the elements.
Jack ripped his knife from its sheath and cut her arms free. She sagged against him and he reached behind her back to cut away the massive knot holding her breasts bound. Gently, he removed the ropes, massaging her breasts until the blood flowed freely again.
Knowing every man—all Caledonians—were watching him, wondering at his tender attentions, Jack decided they could do with a little demonstration. He stepped behind Renee and reached around to cup one swollen tit in his hand. "Do you see this?" he said to the men. He gave the breast a gentle squeeze. Renee stayed silent. "This is mine." He reached around to cup the other one. "These are mine."
He stepped back in front and took a robe Gorm handed him. He tossed Renee the robe. "Cover yourself, slut. I'm going to fuck you good and proper—but this time no one gets to watch." That had to be enough to prove he hadn't gone soft. He couldn't afford to have his men turn on him now.
