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I was being stalked by a rabid bat. My bare feet kicked up sand from the dunes as I streaked away from the ocean, my skirts yanked around my waist -- I had not dressed for a seaside escape that morning, but then I hadn't dressed for a royal kidnapping, either. I was frightened enough that I didn't feel the shards of shell cutting my feet, or the thin chill of the pre-dawn fog that blanketed the beach. She was still behind me, but every time I threw a desperate look over my shoulder, she was closer. The dark woman seemed to ghost over the dunes, her black cape snapping eerily around her with every long, effortless stride. A big, rabid, thirsty bat. My breath caught in my burning chest as I tripped over a salt-ridge and crashed to the sand, my momentum rolling me helplessly down the face of a steep dune. I came to rest at its base on my back, gasping and stupid with fear, my green eyes wide on the gray sky. The mist transformed her persistently into a malignant bird of prey, soaring silently from the top of the huge dune, her cape billowing around her like wings. Her booted feet landed lightly in front of me, her knees flexing slightly. She didn't speak at once, giving me time to dread the dire punishment attempted flight must carry. "That was foolish, girl." The tall woman's voice was like mulled wine, rich and deep, and after a dead run of half a league her breathing still came easily. "Your shoes were taken from you for a reason." I clutched a handful of coarse sand to fling into her face, should she finally attack. She was studying my feet, and finally I felt the vicious sting of a dozen salted cuts on their tender soles. The pirate woman knelt in front of me, and I shrank back against the dune. "Throw that sand in my eyes," she said pleasantly, "and I'll have you flogged before all hands." "Before or after you drown me?" I spat. I flinched as the long fingers wrapped around my ankle, but her touch was oddly gentle. She examined the bloody scratches on the pale arch of my foot. "Both," she answered at last. The breath rushed out of me as I was pulled erect. In the next moment my body was lifted and slung over the broad shoulder, and the tall bat started carrying me back toward the shoreline. "My father adores barbecues," I gasped, bouncing over the woman's back in an undignified fashion. "Big ones! Do you know how many boars we can roast in a bonfire made out of your stupid pirate ship? Put me down!" "Your father's a good man." The dark pirate's voice was cordial. "But he isn't yet a good king, princess. He taxes his people too highly. And those boars you're so eager to savor would feed one of his small villages for a week." "I am not," I panted, "going to discuss politics, with a barbarian, who is carrying me off to her pirate ship, as if I am a sack of beets!" The tall woman seemed content with silence. Her long legs carried us both easily up dunes so steep I had almost rolled down them, her black boots sinking deep with each step. I stared at the white silk tunic an inch from my eyes, plotting furiously. I wasn't going to be killed, I decided. I had already proved enough trouble that if my corpse had been all that was required, the bat would have been carrying one back to her ship. All kinds of unpleasant possibilities still lingered, however. I knew who was capturing me for ransom. I tried not to dwell on it as the weak sun finally crested over the distant hills. If one had to be kidnapped, I comforted myself, at least the timing had been fortuitous. That would be the first line in the story I would write about what was happening to me. The wicked woman's shoulder was like a boulder in my belly, and I had to distract myself somehow. Luckily no one in my family is prone to self-pity, so even prone over the shoulder of a lunatic, I kept my royal wits about me. I heard the screeching of seagulls and saw the swooping shadow of a grey heron, and I knew we had reached the shore. The story of my kidnapping would prove much more interesting than the story of my wedding would have, anyway, I thought, watching the seaweeded-sand pass beneath us. Assuming I lived to tell it. At least being shanghied like this got me out of participating in that hideous ceremony. It was the only thing that would have, actually. There was a brief, rocky ride in a decrepit rowboat, and then the bat hoisted me over her shoulder again before she climbed the rope ladder to the deck of her ship. It was an embarrassing way to board my first sea-vessel, but I wasn't sorry that my stinging feet were spared the rough kiss of the rope rungs. I braced myself against the braying hoo-raws of the pirate captain's chillingly stereotypical crew. "Just once, Vivian!" I heard the familiar growl of the pirate's second-in-command, a loathsome man whose crotch had been the successful target of my foot on the beach -- a pity they had taken my shoes by then. "Just once, lift your ban on shedding the blood of these rich wenches! Let me have just five minutes with -- " The oaf's voice broke off in a startled yawp, and then I heard his fat buttocks hit the wooden deck with a crash. There was some raucous laughter from the men around us, quickly quelled. "Not likely, Mr. Hobbs." I felt the woman's back thrum with her commanding tone. "Raise anchor. We'll make the coast of Canwich by tomorrow's dawn." "And the ransom we'll collect there on this little spitfire might buy ye a truss, Hobbs," a peg-legged voice near me guffawed. I tried to bite him but missed. There was a great deal of masculine hooting. "Half the ransom goes to Gennaway for a new well," the dark woman retorted, plopping me down unceremoniously on the deck. She steadied me with one hand, which I barely resisted slapping away. My head was spinning with my sudden up-ending. "The other half to the orphanage of Manchua. If a single coin finds its way into the pocket of any man here, my blade will find his gullet before it's spent." I stumbled as the huge wooden ship began its lumbering trek away from the sands of my homeland, and tried to maintain my imperious royal expression. It was difficult. I'd never been away from home before. No one stopped me as I groped for the railing. Around me, a hubbub of activity arose, and I was left alone for the moment. The first small swell met us, and my stomach gave an unlovely thump as we crested it. The rising sun was still too weak to warm the biting air, and I shivered. A tress of my blonde hair lashed my face as I stared at the receding shore. I sensed I was being watched by cerulean blue eyes, and I turned to face the dark woman. "Everyone on my ship works, lass." The syrup-rich voice was quiet. "Put your hand to whatever task is given you, today and tonight. Mind your manners, and you'll live to roast a boar with your father tomorrow." The bat turned on her booted heel, and descended down a dark hatch into the bowels of her ship. Pirates have a strange opinion of royalty. Those ruffians expected me to be made of spun glass. I am no slaggard, as they would discover. Once my sore feet were decently bound with clean muslin, I set to helping the second mate coil the heavy chain of the anchor around the clamp thing. I may not have known what to call it, but my small hands were strong and sure with the chain, and the mate dipped me an appreciative wink. Bertram, his name was. "How'd a little slip like you come to be such a good sailor?" He asked, smiling and wincing the sweat out of his eyes. "I'm useless as a sailor," I corrected him, stifling another swell of nausea. "But I grew up in my father's stables, so hard work is nothing new to me." The morning passed surprisingly quickly. The harder I worked, the more my seasickness receded! I never forgot that Bertram was a bloodthirsty pirate and no doubt a savage, but he told wonderful stories, and he liked mine also. Vivian, as Bertram called his captain, the bat, was everywhere on the ship. Whenever I looked up from my work I saw her, scaling a mast to unsnarl a tangled line, or hauling heavy rolls of netting with three of her men. The dark woman never joined in the cheerful talk of the crew, I noticed, but occasionally one of them would get a smile out of her. I worked alone in the late afternoon, seated under a wooden awning to shield my head from the punishing sun. I kept my eyes on my hands, trying to remember the simple rope-braid pattern Bertram showed me. I was acutely conscious of Vivian, however, mere yards away. She was standing braced, anchoring a thick length of rope against her back. Her austere features were trained upward, where two of her men climbed high in the galleon's rigging. "Tie yourself off, Lucas," Vivian called sharply. "Now, not after -- " P>I peered cautiously out of my alcove just as the young pirate named Lucas fell.I have excellent reflexes, and I was on my feet in less than a second -- but not in time to help Vivian catch the boy's full weight. I heard the rope snap hard against her back, and the tall woman staggered as yells of alarm sounded among the crew. Vivian's head whipped around at me when she felt my hands touch her waist, but then she allowed me to take up the trailing end of the rope. Gradually, she let me share some of the strain of holding the unfortunate pirate aloft. "We've got you, Lucas!" It took only moments for others to reach us, and help lower Lucas to the deck. Vivian pushed aside the burly men surrounding the boy, and knelt beside him. She probed his lower leg with a skilled touch, and I noticed she winced when Lucas cried out in pain. I knelt too, and lifted his hand to lend what comfort I could -- he was no older than I. "Well, your carelessness has bought you a broken ankle, son." Vivian's gentle tone belied the harshness of her words. "I'm s-sorry, Vivian," the young man gasped. "You'll mend." She patted the boy's knee. "Bertram, splint the leg and take him below. Give him morphia for pain. Hobbs, Mr. Lucas will be sewing nets for the foreseeable future." Vivian rose to her feet, turned, and disappeared among her crew. The day waned. Looking back, I realize now I should have been more frightened. As I said, I knew who had me -- the tales of Vivian and her crew had reached the palace weeks ago. I knew that the three noblewomen who had been captured by this sinister pirate had all been returned unharmed, once suitable ransom was paid. And I knew Father would pay. But I also remembered what the gossips said about what happened to those young women while they were aboard Vivian's ship. I should have been more frightened. As the moon rose, Bertram ushered me into the lower depths of the hulking boat. He brought me into the galley -- that's a kitchen -- where he prepared a tray of fresh fruit and poured a jug of warmed wine. He handed the heavy platter to me, and his gray eyes were solemn. "Here, missy. Take this in to the captain. And remember -- just do as she tells you. Hear?" I swallowed, but summoned all the bravado I could. "I doubt if I'll have a choice. That harpy in there seems vicious enough to -- " The wine sloshed from the jug as Bertram clasped my wrist. "No finer woman breathes than Vivian, lass." I looked at the old man, surprised to hear the cutting edge in his voice. "I'll not hear her insulted in my presence, no man on this ship would. Just -- just remember, she didn't get where she is today by standing much disobedience." Bertram's eyes softened a little, and he patted my arm with his scarred hand. "Go on, now, girl. You'll be fine." Perhaps I could pitch myself overboard, I thought, as I wandered the cramped, murky hallways of the great ship's bowels. The vessel heaved and rolled, but slowly and with even cadence in the calm sea, so my stomach stayed reasonably quiescent. Or at least it did, until I cleared my throat outside the closed door of the captain's quarters. "Come." I opened the door with difficulty and backed in, balancing the heavy tray in both hands. Once inside I turned, blinking to adjust my eyes to the red glow of lamplight that filled the large private cabin. The tall pirate stood facing me. She wore nothing at all on top -- she was half-naked, with a completely bare chest. She still wore the tight black pants she had worn all day, and I tried to keep my eyes pinned on her knees. "Are you h-hungry?" I stammered. Vivian nodded toward a small table nailed into the floor against the wall. "Lay it there." But I hesitated. The dark woman wasn't even looking at me, and she was seemingly oblivious to my blushing response to her nakedness. Vivian was craning her head over her shoulder, trying to see her bare back reflected in the stand of mirrored glass behind her. In one hand she held a small tin of salve, and in the reflection, I saw her long fingers reach for an ugly-looking welt across the small of her back. "Here, let me. You can't even reach that." I set the tray quickly on the table, then went to the tall woman and took the tin of salve from her. I put a hand on her shoulder to turn her around, and she did not resist. Vivian faced the wall, and I drew in a quick breath when I saw the rope-burn across her back close up. "I saw this happen." I smoothed ointment across the angry stripe with gentle fingers. One of Vivian's hands came up to touch the wall lightly. "I'm sorry, I know this must hurt." Vivian stood quietly while I tended the burn. "You've done this before," she said finally. I nodded. "If you have younger brothers, you learn to patch people." I wanted to coat the area surrounding the deep welt as well, but Vivian turned and took the tin of salve from my hand before I could finish. I found myself staring at her firm breasts, and I quickly raised my green eyes to her watching blue ones. "Thank you, for that service." Vivian's voice was mulled honey again. "Now remove your clothing, princess." And suddenly it stopped being a game, or an adventure. "No," I said. "Then I'll take them from you, Jenna." I backed away from the blue-eyed pirate. I wasn't trying to escape, there was nowhere to run, but I couldn't stand close to her any longer. I tried to think. As far as I knew, Vivian had never killed any of her captives. I chose not to risk being the first. The dark woman watched, motionless, as I unlaced my bodice and slid it down my arms. I thought it would be easier to bare my breasts first, since hers were already exposed. But the spark of greedy light in Vivian's eyes as I unveiled my breasts made me tremble, and to my consternation, I felt my pink nipples pebble and harden beneath her gaze. Vivian dropped her searing eyes to my hips. She still said nothing, and she didn't move. She didn't have to. I slid down my skirt and underclothes with shaking hands and stepped out of them, angry tears filling my eyes. I straightened, naked, and hurled the skirt at my silent tormentor. Vivian caught it neatly with one hand, and I glared at her, hating her slow smile and appraising leer. "All right, where do you want me?" I snapped. I resisted the nearly overwhelming urge to try to cover myself with my arms. I stood proudly instead, my legs slightly parted and my back arched, and I traded her smut-filled gaze with a defiant one of my own. "Do you have a torture chamber here-abouts, Vivian? Or will you just order all your men to pile in here, and rape me in front of you?" The smile vanished from Vivian's face, and my heart stuttered in my breast. She stepped forward and clenched my wrist in a grip of iron. "Here will do, princess. On the bed." She didn't wait for me to follow her instructions -- she pitched my naked body onto the wide, silken expanse of her bed with one smooth yank. I crouched there, terribly exposed and trembling, the accursed tears still falling in spite of my efforts to remain calm. "The self-obsession of royalty never fails to astonish me." Vivian bent and grasped my ankles, then jerked my body roughly down the bed, the friction of the silk burning against my buttocks. "I've taken three noblewomen in this cabin, Jenna. All of them came to me with no notion of how to rule. I taught them what it is to experience power. I'm going to teach you, tonight." I lifted myself on my hands, licking my dry lips as Vivian separated my ankles widely, and then chained them apart with padded leather cuffs. "A barbarian can't lecture me about a queen's duty, you -- barbarian!" I snapped. "I'm not here because of the crown I'll wear someday. I'm here because you like your women young, and your victims helpless -- " Vivian's cold fingers were around my throat in the next instant, and she forced me down flat against the silk sheets. I stared at her, trying not show my terror as she fastened my wrists in the manacles drilled on either side of the wide headboard. "You're right, I do want you to understand true helplessness." When Vivian spoke again, her voice and expression had regained their characteristic remoteness. "Because after you take your throne, I don't want you to be able to sign the execution warrant of an innocent farmer, or order the ransacking of a rebellious village, without remembering first what it's like to be oppressed beneath a powerful hand." Vivian paused and looked down at me, and I thought there was sadness in her eyes. "Ironically, Jenna, I may prove to be the most valuable counselor you will ever have." I was trying desperately to work up enough spit to hawk in her smug face, but my mouth was too dry. To my immense relief, Vivian turned away from me and went to the platter of wine and fruit on the table. Her wide, tanned shoulders were tense, and I watched the muscles of her back work as she took up a small knife and began cutting the fruit. My eyes fell on the angry burn on her lower back, and I snapped my gaze away, refusing to allow any sympathy for a woman bent on raping me to cut through my fury. I wondered where, in my story, I would admit to the arousal that was beginning to creep through me. Or if I would admit it, at all. If I didn't, I would be writing fiction. She let me lie there for a good long time in the red lamplight, naked and spread-eagled against the green satin spread. I knew how I looked, the picture I presented -- my pale, lush body twisting in its bonds, my green eyes snapping with anger. Small whimpering sounds escaped me, but not mewls of fear -- I was grunting in frustration as I tried to free myself from the ungiving manacles holding my wrists and ankles. While her back was turned, I chanced a look down the length of my restrained body, and a groan of misery escaped me. I looked like I was bred and born in a bordello! My breasts were full and ripe, the pale swells of them capped by nipples that were blushing scarlet. And, more humiliating, still -- I could see between them, down the flat plane of my belly, to the gold-red mound between my wide-spread legs. I whimpered, feeling the sea-fresh air of the evening wash across my wet labia. It felt as if thousands of greedy eyes were staring into my exposed cleft. And then I saw Vivian watching me, over her shoulder, enjoying my shame. I turned my head away from her and closed my eyes. She took her sweet time, Vivian. She turned back to me and watched me wrestle with my bonds as she slowly devoured half of an orange. She ate neatly, with no sound, but I opened my eyes and saw one flash of her tongue once, and a spasm of heat went through my turgid nipples. "Fortunately for you, Jenna," Vivian said at last, stepping back to the bed, "I will also teach you what it is to be merciful. Power untempered by mercy is -- " "What you have over me, now," I cut in. I was impressed by the steadiness of my voice, but I couldn't help but flinch as Vivian settled on the low bed next to my rigid body. I tried to inject the scorn of an enraged royal into my voice. "Just get it over with, Vivian! I hate to rob you of the pleasure of -- stealing my womanhood, or whatever, but I've got bad news for you, that's already been done, I got rid of it last year, and now I'm marrying the guy, so -- " I was babbling and I knew it, but I couldn't stop myself. Vivian stopped me, when she held the lush, juicy fruit of the orange to my right nipple, and twisted its center gently around my heated bud. I gasped, and my back arched in response to the cold, sweet kiss of the fruit on my tender nipple. Vivian was watching my face, carefully. She allowed a few drops of cold juice to dribble over my full breast and down my lean, panting side. "It pleases me that you're broken in, Jenna." Vivian tossed the fruit aside, and bent to nuzzle my breast with her full lips. My green eyes locked on the wooden beams of the ceiling above me. "It's so difficult to remove blood from green silk," Vivian continued. "And I much prefer my women's cunts to be stuffed with nothing but pleasure . . . " The low, growling voice subsided as the dark woman lowered her head and sucked on the creamy swell of my breast, leaving flushed red marks on the quivering flesh. Her rough tongue moved over my trembling globes, cleaning away the sticky juice from the orange. Growls of pleasure emerged from Vivian's taut throat. I tried to control my breathing, but my breasts began to heave beneath her greedy mouth. The feeling of exposure was so complete! No matter how I twisted, or pulled at the manacles, I could not escape that wet tongue, the suction of those beautiful lips on my nipples . . . "You're trembling, Vivian." My voice was soft. I could hardly believe I'd spoken the words aloud. The mouth on my tender nipple stilled, and Vivian sat up slowly. She looked down at me with such feral eyes that I quailed against the silk spread, my breasts and pudenda quivering in the red lamplight. "You are trembling," I said, with wonder. Gods. I'd said it again. It was true, though. Little Jenna was making the big, bad pirate queen shake like an aspen leaf. I smiled at her. Mistake. Whatever plans Vivian had for me vanished from her mind. I would not receive the skilled seduction her other captives had enjoyed. I saw my fate change in the slow silvering of her blue eyes. With one quick, twisting movement she was on top of me. Her firm body lay heavily over mine, her knees clenched between my wide-spread legs, her bare breasts pressed against my own. Then Vivian lifted herself on her arms above me, and soft tendrils of her jet-black hair tickled my nipples. Her lips were so close I felt the hot rush of her breath on my tongue. "Who are you, Jenna?" Vivian dug her crotch into the juncture between my legs. "Aunng!" The harsh rasp of fabric pressed against the splayed lips of my vagina, and I cried out. Nothing could have prepared me for that moment. The helpless exposure of my vulva between my splayed thighs, the unstoppable power that was this woman, grinding into my tender folds. And the locked glittering in Vivian's eyes, that would not let me deny my own arousal. I was not Vivian's victim. Ever. If you've heard that I was, it's a lie. The lewd scrubbing between my legs continued, and I burst into tears of frustration and suppressed desire. My face contorted beneath Vivian's searing eyes, and my head tossed back and forth against the spread. A wave of pure, pulsing heat surged in my belly, and my body undulated mindlessly beneath her hulking form. My naked breasts slapped against Vivian's, in audible rhythm as she scrubbed between my thighs. "Look at me," Vivian hissed, and her tone frightened me. But when I opened my green eyes, I saw that Vivian's expression had lost that predatory haze. Her long fingers on my face were gentle and her lovely eyes kind, even as her hips ground against my sparking center. She lowered her head, and her mouth brushed against my parted lips lightly. Even tenderly. Climax took me. I see no need to record my screamings and squirmings here. When I regained my senses, I found Vivian resting, possibly asleep, across my body. Hers was a sweet, warming weight, anchoring my chest and belly in the rise and fall of the ocean currents. I felt saturated in peace, and tendrils of carnal pleasure still thrilled through my blood. Vivian had released my hands before she, too, collapsed -- they lay on either side of my head. I lifted them wonderingly, wincing at the stiffness in my shoulders, and lowered my palms against the motionless woman's back. Vivian's damp shoulders were still trembling with reaction, and I found myself filled with an all but irresistible urge to comfort her. My hands smoothed over the muscular planes of her torso -- and inadvertently, I touched the painful burn just above her belt. We both moved very quickly. Vivian sat up, gasping at the unexpected pain, and I sat up, gasping at Vivian's unexpected gasp. It wasn't funny at the time, but it is now, in telling it. "Are you all right?" Vivian asked sharply. I didn't answer Vivian at first, I just looked at her. Vivian touched my face. She asked again, more softly. "Are you all right, Jenna?" I spent the night with her. I haven't slept as soundly since. Vivian's men rowed me to shore at Canwich just before dawn. They picked up the chest of coins left for them, and then silently returned to the anchored pirate ship. The incoming surf beat a monotonous timpani against the hard-packed sand. I stood on the shore in the early-morning fog, still barefoot, and watched as the hulking galleon receded into the mist. I saw a flash of a white silk shirt high in the crow's nest, and I knew whose blue eyes watched me, saying goodbye. It's two nights later, as I write this. My father and brothers will find a letter from me on my bed in the morning. I just finished it. It says, |
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