“Headache?” Anjel asked, sinking down on the bed beside her, ignoring her looks and squeaks of outrage and lifting her just enough that she could lay propped up against his side – if he could get her to stay still, that was. She was wiggling and writhing in a manner that had him much more interested than he really wanted to be, feeling himself rising with every careless movement of that lithe body. “Stay still, damn you, or headache or no, I’ll take you over my lap.”
The instant he issued the threat – which she already knew was no lie – she went completely still, making him chuckle softly at how obedient she suddenly became. And somehow, even on such short acquaintance, he knew that was a lie. He loosened but didn’t remove entirely the gag he’d employed not so long ago, replacing it with his tankard, which he’d filled with the same ale as the crew drank. He wasn’t about to waste his good rum on a doxy like her.
Cassie took a grateful swallow; her throat was frightfully parched. But when she got a second taste of the swill he was offering, she spewed it out entirely without thinking, succeeding in drenching the two of them. She’d never tasted such a horrible concoction in her life, and she knew that if she took another sip of it, it wouldn’t be ale that she showered them in.
Anjel roared his displeasure, replacing the gag immediately, and Cassie found that she couldn’t resist in the least, because whipping her head back and forth was completely out of the question because the dizziness that had receded some came back in full force as soon as she attempted to avoid the gag by doing just that. He produced a rag, with which he mopped himself, but didn’t bother to apply it to her. Instead, he sat back down on the edge of the huge bed and reached for her, placing her with no effort at all over his lap.
The only time Cassie had ever been put in this position was by this horrible man, and she knew she needed to get away from him as soon as possible – before he began whacking away at her defenseless bottom. But there was no hope for escape, bound as she was. His one arm across her back was weight enough to easily hold her in place, even if she hadn’t been hampered by her makeshift bonds, but he also clamped that hand most familiarly onto her far hip and trapped her other hip tightly – and obscenely – up against his rock hard belly.
The end result was that she could barely move in any direction, despite how thoroughly affronted as she was to have been manhandled in such a manner. She was absolutely and inordinately furious, but thwarted at every avenue when she tried to express her rage. Even the invectives she was heaping on his head were completely muffled by the gag.
But if she had had some notion of being unhappy to have been positioned in such an intimate manner by a man she barely knew, it flew out of her mind as soon as that oak like hand landed on the backside he had – during her useless struggles – expertly managed to bare. In fact, she had managed to kick her own bloomers across the room by violently bending her knees up then down, which was one of the few movements she was still allowed although it hadn’t worked out in her favor in the least.
The spanking was bad enough, but he had the audacity to lecture her about her behavior while he was roasting her rear! “You are hands down the most thoroughly annoying, irascible woman I have ever met! You seem determined by dint of your atrocious behavior to spend the majority of this voyage over my lap. Well, believe me, my girl, that can be arranged.”
Cassie was beside herself with the humiliation from the situation she found herself in – she was nearly twenty– one years old – but even more so from the sheer stinging, aching roasting she was receiving. Some of her friends had been spanked by the servants – or even occasionally their parents – while they were growing up together, and she had always been curious – and as she grew even a little titillated, if she allowed herself the freedom to admit it, which she didn’t – as to what it actually felt like.
Now she knew that it was something to be avoided at all costs! She was quite certain that he wasn’t using a hand on her behind, but rather a torch since every inch of her skin from stem to stern felt as if it had been most thoroughly scorched, to the point – she was quite certain – of blistering.
“I think you’ll need regular punishments during our time together, just to remind you exactly who it is that’s in charge here. You’re an uppity little thing, and you’re obviously in sore need of someone to keep you firmly in your place.” And he was more than willing to apply for that position.
Now that he had had a little more time – and much better light – with which to observe her, he realized that she was quite beautiful, if treacherous. He had been hard put to keep his hands off the waves of red gold hair that had spilled onto his bed and now nearly to the floor in consideration of her position. And her skin was absolutely flawless – not a pockmark or a scar to the found, and he could see a fair amount of her since he’d thrown over her skirts and disabused her of her underthings, which were – surprisingly – of the same kind of quality material that her careworn dress was made of. She was laid bare to him from the first gentle swell of her hips to her tiny pebble toes, and he had appreciated every creamy rose inch of her until he began to change a large portion of that silky skin into a much angrier, unhappier shade of violent red.
Anjel applied a fresh layer of swats up one side and down the other of that lovely bottom of hers, then up and down each of her already deeply reddened legs, feeling the heat from them each time his palm connected with her skin with a resounded whack.
“I think at meal times today and then right before bed for the rest of the week might be just about right for you, until you learn unconditional obedience – when the ship bell rings for meals today you’ll know what you’re due, and then again before bed, so that whenever you turn over you’ll remember just who it is that you must obey. That should help you learn to keep your teeth sheathed, and be grateful for whatever drink you’re given!” he almost roared at the end before getting a hold of himself. He rarely yelled at the men, but this little baggage seemed to get under his skin like no one else, and had almost succeeded in making him really lose his temper.
Chapter Three
Cassie had never felt such loss of control in her relatively young life. There was very little that she hadn’t been able to get from her parents – usually in the form of gifts, but if neither her birthday nor Christmas was anywhere near, she could always wheedle what she wanted out of one or the other of them. She rose when she wanted to, slept when she wanted to, and had arranged her life exactly to her liking.
It was one of the reasons that she had deliberately sabotaged her first season, making certain that there were few if any offers for her hand by regaling the men who signed her dance card with tales of her adventures. They were mostly fictitious, of course, but a few of them had the spark of truth in them, and she made them outlandish enough that not one of her dancing partners ever signed up for the same harrowing experience twice.
Cassie knew that, once she got married, she would lose all of the freedom she had with her parents and be placed firmly under her husband’s thumb. It was not a position she coveted in the least, and so she did everything she could to avoid the possibility of an actual suitor. She had been extremely happy with the resulting lack of eligible bachelors beating their way to her father’s study to ask for her hand, and although she knew her parents were just the slightest bit worried about her apparent disfavor within society, they were more than overcome with joy at the idea that their happy, insular little family would remain intact.
Since her father’s passing, however, she had come up against the realization that that singular misfortune meant she had very little say in what happened to her any longer, and that was a concept of which she was distinctly not very fond. Her mother had barreled headlong into a relationship that Cassie found less than acceptable on almost every level – even before she’d been so blatantly exposed to their unsavory tastes. She had been forced to come down here, to a backwards island where she would probably never see any of her friends again, expressly because she
wasn’t married and she couldn’t stay in England without a chaperone.
And now she was struggling with the idea that, although in the past she had never really encountered anyone she couldn’t manipulate into doing what she wanted, that era was drawing to a rather abrupt end. Cassie sensed that what this man said, he meant, and she already knew from experience that he wouldn’t hesitate to back it up by laying down the law on her rear end.
When he stopped spanking her, she expected that he would put her back on the bed, but he didn’t. Instead he did something that surprised her – he loosened the makeshift hobbles he’d put around her ankles. But he warned her like a child to behave as he did so. “I’m going to let your legs loose now, missy, but I expect you’ll well remember the spanking you just got and keep them quiet. I know you’re not used to it, but I expect you to act like a lady.”
Not used to it? She howled in outrage behind the strips of fabric in her mouth. She had never been anything but a lady all her life. Of course she immediately discounted those years when she was younger and apt to climb trees and run away from anyone who came near her with a hairbrush because she was only a little girl and such behavior was not unexpected, as far as she was concerned.
“I want you to put the toes of your left foot on the floor.”
How had the tone of his voice changed so quickly from chiding to something even more sinister? It was like rich velvet flooding her ears and insinuating itself into her brain, but still just deep and hoarse enough to elicit a response she had never given anyone in her life: her nipples hardened to unbearably throbbing peaks beneath her clothes, and she was appalled to find that she desperately wanted to rub the ache out of them although she knew that that was an absolutely unacceptable desire. She was ashamed of herself for ever harboring such a lewd, shameful thought.
She had become so lost in her own troubling reactions to him that she had neglected to obey him, and immediately suffered the consequence of having done so. That horrid palm of his began cracking down on her already sensitized rear and continued to do so until that small foot tentatively found its way to the floor.
With her skirts above her head, though, that position left her quite thoroughly exposed to him, and she found herself entirely unable to keep them where he wanted them. She couldn’t let him see her...her privates. She couldn’t! It just wasn’t to be contemplated!
But Anjel wasn’t to be denied, or worse than that, disobeyed. On this ship, his word was law and he wasn’t about to let this little slip of a girl get away with defying him. So he reached for and unbuckled his thick leather belt, then slipping it easily out of its loops, folding it in half with practiced ease and keeping careful hold on the buckle. If he could keep himself from scarring that perfect skin, she’d be worth much more in the marketplace. But considering how obstinate she was being, he wasn’t at all sure he was going to be able to manage that. Somehow, this little chit set him off quicker than anyone he’d ever met.
He was usually a favorite of the ladies in every port, so much so that his men routinely begged him not to leave the ship until they’d had first crack at the women, because as soon as he appeared they were drawn to him like flies to honey. Anjel was a big man but that only seemed to attract nearly every female he’d encountered – young and old – to his side. It didn’t hurt that he was nearly always of a mind to treat even the lowliest around him with respect, especially those of the fairer sex.
He’d gotten his dark good looks directly from his father, who had been a well known rake in his own day. Although he was in his mid thirties, he still had a full head of midnight black hair – so black it almost looked blue in spots. His high forehead bespoke of his intelligence, and there were well defined brows over strikingly blue eyes. His time on board in the glaring sun had ensured that his already swarthy skin had darkened just that much more.
And, true to his trade, there was a small, no doubt solid, gold hoop through one of his earlobes.
The fact that he was one step shy of muscle bound hadn’t hurt him much, either, with the female of the species or in his chosen profession. Men weren’t eager to follow a physically weak man, and there was no question on his ship that he could beat the hell out of any man on it – even his first mate, who wasn’t very dissimilar to him in stature or build, but the exact opposite of him in coloring. But it wasn’t just his stature that kept his men loyal. It was the potent combination of success and integrity. When a man signed on to the Devil’s Pursuit, they knew they were going to work themselves half to death before they returned home, but when they set foot back on familiar soil, they would barely be able to walk for the riches in their purse.
Nor was he afraid to turn his hand to any job that needed doing, and was the first man across when they overtook another ship, and the last man to stand down when the fighting was done. Because he’d worked his way up in the ranks, he knew how each job onboard should be done. He had his hand or his eyes on everyone at all times, and half–assed jobs were not tolerated.
The ship was kept in pristine working order by his command and he worked his crew nearly into the ground. But at the same time, he saw to it that they started out the voyage well provisioned, so that the men each had more than enough rations of food – and drink – before they ever set their sights on another ship, from which they would commandeer any and all provisions they had, too, adding them to their already well stocked larder.
Their Captain also wasn’t one of those that liked ordering his men around for the fun of it, either. When he gave a command, it was a sound one, not that he wasn’t a stickler for obedience regardless of what the men though of his orders. He was, and quick to the whip, too, which, on occasion, he wielded to great effect himself rather than delegating the job to someone else as a lot of captains might.
He knew each of the sailors that had signed on by name – most of them had been with him for years and that in and of itself was a compliment to how well the ship ran under his command. Sailors were a fickle lot – pirate seamen the most among all of them. It was a bone wearying, deadly life, and if they sensed anything untoward going on with their Captain, they would mutiny and kill him outright, then hoist someone else to that lofty – but distinctly tentative – position. But there had never been any hint of any kind of revolt on the Devil’s Pursuit.
As a result of this unusual combination of traits, he lost fewer men to desertion than any other captain – pirate or not. His men would follow him into the gates of Hell, and they had on more than one occasion, and he had led the majority of them out of it to safety by his own wits and skill.
But there seemed to be one person on board his ship that was much less than inclined to obey him, and he was determined to bring her to heel using any method he could. He didn’t usually resort to his belt with a female – hell, he’d rarely had to punish any female he fancied unless that was what they wanted, and he knew some of them did favor that kind of treatment. Since it tickled his fancy too, he was only more than happy to oblige.
He had to admit, spanking her had brought him to such aching attention that he was hard pressed to forget the unbending spike in his pants that was digging into her soft belly, even when he brought the leather down across her nates for the first time, watching the stripe he’d created flush a bright red and then fade just slightly into a deeper, more mottled one.
Anjel knew from the sound of her muffled screams that he’d gotten her attention, and he looked down to see that her toes were where he’d told her they needed to be in the first place. But the little brat had seen fit to defy him, and even though she’d rectified her behavior after her first taste of his belt across her backside, he wasn’t about to let her get away with ignoring his commands whenever she chose to. That would never do in their relationship, such as it was, but even more so on this ship. He might well have to order her to do something that would save her life, and he didn’t want her taking the time to debate whether or not he was right. He wanted her to do as she was told immediately,
without so much as a thought about whether or not she wanted to comply.
And so he continued to lather those enticingly upturned curves, surprising himself at just how much he enjoyed hearing each well suppressed squeak and squall she uttered as he seared her flesh with his well worn belt.
For her part, Cassie was completely undone by the fact that there was nothing she could do – absolutely nothing – to stop the rhythmic fall of that horrible strap. She just had to endure it, somehow, because there certainly wasn’t going to be any mercy shown by this ruthless, brutal pirate. Regardless, though, each new, obscenely loud crack across her fanny sent her into jerky spasms of belated attempts to avoid the inevitable, but she never succeeded in deflecting even a single one of them. She was forced to experience the height of his displeasure as he reduced her to a bawling, hiccoughing mass of thoroughly dominated femininity.
When he finally laid the belt down next to him – well within reach should it be needed again – Anjel noted that her toes were firmly planted on the floor where they should have been in the first place, and that that opened her secrets up very nicely for his eager exploration, just as he had intended. He rearranged her skirts, which had slunk further down her backside than he preferred while she had danced beneath his disciplinary attentions, but soon his hand lay on the delicate ankle closest to him, following the natural line of the inside of her leg with excruciating slowness, taking the time to fondle a well turned calf, then the oft ignored back of her knee, and even further, until his hand claimed what it had sought all along.
Warm and fully ripe it was, too, he was pleasantly surprised to note.
She had begun singing much the same song at these attentions as she had when he was striping her bottom, although she was quite a bit hoarser now from its effects. Anjel kept an eagle eye on her toes, making sure that, in her haste to protest the liberties he was taking she didn’t forget herself and make a move that he would give her plenty of cause to regret.
Under the Lash Page 3