Nanette's Capture (Brackish Bay Book 1)

by Cerise Noble

  “Good girl.” He slipped a second finger in, and began to thrust, slowly – far too slowly. I mewed, needing more. He slipped a third in, and I sighed in relief. It didn't help much, not as slowly as he was thrusting.

  “Please!”

  He chuckled, and swept my thighs up over his shoulder, slamming his fingers in and out, fucking me hard. I keened. He twisted his hand, jamming his thumb against my clit with each thrust and I finally screamed my release. He didn't stop, but forced me up over the peak again, and a third time before I collapsed.

  I woke to find my head pillowed on his shoulder, his breath ruffling my hair. My cunt was sore, both from his hard fingers and my desperate clenching. My fingers fluttered over his chest. “Why doesn't Jeffery ever fuck my cunt?”

  “He doesn't want to father any children. Not yet. So he doesn't want to risk it.”

  “Oh.” It made perfect sense. My mother had scolded me for that very reason when she'd found out about my explorations with Tommy. But I still wished to feel his hard cock inside me.

  “Don't worry, little slave. We'll make sure your cunt gets well used.”

  I mewed a little, snuggling closer to him. It certainly had been well used tonight.

  ***

  I saw Suzanna again the day that Jessica died. Marcus and Julia brought her with the rest of their daughters to pay their respects to the governor. We didn't speak, just hugged for a long moment before returning to our respective duties. She looked well, though. Modestly clothed, well fed, her face was starting to fill out again from the leanness it had acquired during our long flight.

  Roy sat in an armchair someone had brought down from his room and placed in the dining room, the table pushed to the side. He stared at nothing, barely rousing to acknowledge people's condolences. Jacqueline knelt at his feet, her tears a steady drip down his pants. Stephanie knelt on his other side, distressed and restless. Tobin and Gerard waited on him, bringing him drinks, or food, directing the people who came in, thanking them and sending them on their way.

  I stayed in the kitchen, helping Lauren. There were a half a dozen other slaves, brought in by the men who kept them and left to make themselves useful. Devon was conspicuous by his absence. I found out later he had taken it upon himself to direct all of the House's business for a few days – the fishing, the farming, the patrolling – so Tobin and Gerard could focus on Roy.

  All of us wore white. Old dresses or pants or shirts, bleached bone white in the sun. I missed Jeffery dreadfully, and Devon also. Sleeping on a mat on the kitchen floor with the other slaves left me anxious and lonely. They all seemed to know each other, and whispered together often.

  The brunette. “Do you think he'll take another slave?”

  The one with braids. “No way. Jessica was his life. No one could possibly compare.”

  The dark one. “But he has the rest of us. Surely someone is good enough to warm his bed?”

  Braids again. “Warm his bed – sure. Take her place? No way in hell.”

  The brunette. “She was very sweet. I didn't know her well, but she was really sweet.”

  A blonde streaked with gray. “She was a true Lady. It won't be the same without her.”

  The dark one turned towards me. “Have you been with our lord yet?”

  I shook my head.

  “Why not?”

  I shrugged. “I don't think he has had interest in anyone for a long time.”

  They considered that. The gray-blonde spoke up. “That makes sense. I've heard Stephanie has been a downright surly bitch lately, and he used to be one of the best at keeping her in line. I bet he hasn't done anything with anyone since the doctor told him Jessica wasn't getting better.”

  A red head. “He must have loved her an awful lot.”

  Braids. “He loved her more than the world. This – this whole thing, his territory – this was her idea.”

  The dark one. “Really? Why?”

  Braids. “She wanted there to be a place that was safe for men and women. In the wide world, a woman or child is only as safe as the man defending them, and a man is just as vulnerable as his woman and child make him. Banding together works only as well as there is a stable hierarchy with a good leader at the top. Roy is a good leader.”

  The brunette. “Or, he was. He might not recover from this.”

  Gray-blond. Confidently. “He'll recover. He has to. He has six dozen adults depending on him. And however many children.”

  Red head. “What if he doesn't?”

  Braids. “Someone will step in. Someone from his inner circle, who's been part of this since the beginning.”

  They all turned to look at me, and I shrugged, discomfited. “I think he'll recover.”

  Their skepticism reflected my own worries. I'd finally gotten accustomed to the thought of being part of this House – if it all crumbled, I would be lost again, drowning in uncertainty, or just outright drowning, if a warlord sensed weakness and came in to take over. I shivered, sudden fear welling in my heart. Being stuck here, on the island, was almost as bad as being stuck in a village. I curled around myself, pulling the sheet partially over my face, struggling to keep calm while the other slaves continued to speculate.

  Finally exhaustion claimed me.

  The next day Jessica's body was laid on a bier and burned. The four outposts took turns sending people in to say good-bye as her spirit mingled with the elements of the world.

  People spoke – fragments of memory, dreams come true by her influence. I found myself weeping, and I barely knew her. The ones who did know her were wretched.

  When the fire had burned down to the rocky base, water was poured from great jugs, washing the ash down a channel to the river. Roy stood under a weeping willow tree for hours, partially screened by the branches, flanked by the Ward brothers and the two slaves. I found myself wishing I could go to him, wishing I could offer him comfort in any way. But without their request, there wasn't really anything I could do.

  The rest of the week the other slaves stayed with us, and I found myself in a position of slight authority – I was most familiar with Lauren, with the way she kept the kitchen and the house, so I offered suggestions when I noticed them doing something she would not approve of.

  The first time she caught me doing so, she patted my bottom in passing. “Good little slave mama.” I stared at her, confused, until Sara started laughing. She was the slave with braids.

  “She means you're taking care of us. Trying to help us stay out of trouble. That's why she called you mama.” I frowned, but let it go.

  The pat reminded me that I hadn't been spanked in a few days, and my bottom was finally healed up. I rubbed it a bit – nope, not sore. For some reason, it made me miss Jeffrey even more. A thought struck me. Did he even know about Jessica? He'd left before it happened. The more I thought about it, the more I fretted. Him not knowing, him having been her lover – it would be a horrible thing for him to find out, to find out that he'd missed her last day.

  It wasn't until the slaves went back to their usual homes elsewhere and things started to settle back to the normal routine of things that Devon took me to his bed again.

  His lust sated in my mouth, he'd wrapped his arms around me and kissed my hair. I looked at him curiously. “Why doesn't Jeffery kiss me?”

  Devon shrugged. “To him it's too intimate.”

  I felt like I'd been slapped. “We are very intimate. He wanted to keep me. Why wouldn't he kiss me then?”

  Devon shrugged again. “It's his prerogative. Just like it was for him to tell me I could kiss your body, but not your lips.”

  I frowned at him, but let it go. And the more it bothered me, the more I realized I was starting to care about Jeffery. I decided I would meet Jeffery’s boat when it came in.

  It struck me that I'd not been allowed out of the house since I'd first arrived. It said something for how preoccupied I was that I hadn't realized it before. Especially given that my whole life up until then had been spent ou
tdoors or close to it. The open shutters had helped. Big windows that looked out on the island and let the breeze in helped me forget. But once I realized it, it was like ripping off a bandage that I hadn't wanted to remove. It ached inside me, the desire to find myself completely in the open air. And it mingled with the desire to meet Jeffery's boat, to tell him what he'd missed before he came into the miserable atmosphere inside the house.

  The only problem was that I didn't know what his boat looked like, or when he was coming back. I offered to clean rooms the next day, and Lauren had agreed, a suspicious eye on me. In each room I took in the view from the window, looking for the pier I'd come in on, or any other, for that matter. It wasn't until I found the short flight of stairs set opposite the kitchen that I even found the front door of the house – and sure enough, there was the pier. I stood for a long minute in the doorway, until one of the men patrolling spotted me and came towards me, weapon held as easily in his hands as a rag or cook spoon was in mine. I stood my ground, heart hammering.

  “Ma'am? Does the governor need anything?”

  I shook my head, my heart in my throat. “No, sir. I'm just airing out the vestibule.”

  He nodded, and left to continue the circuit he'd been on when he'd detoured. I watched him for a long time, wondering what would happen if I tried to escape. Not that escaping seemed like a smart idea – but I realized how trusting they were of me, when they'd known me for only a few weeks. I was given nearly free range in the house. I wasn't chained to sleep or ever, not since the first day. Had something I'd said or done convinced them I was worthy of that trust?

  Devon took me to his bed that night also. This time he lay back, and told me to see if I could make him cum all by myself. I was surprised – not only had I become accustomed to his cock ramming into my throat, but I had come to enjoy it. This was an interesting challenge. So I climbed onto the bed, eager to please.

  My touch was tentative, but he just watched my hands with that slow smile. Emboldened, I began to stroke him. His skin was soft and thick, the foreskin slipping easily over the rapidly hardening shaft. I gathered his balls into my palm, rolling them between my fingers. The soft pouch holding his hard stones was fascinating, and it tightened as I played. I tugged some of the hair on it and he jerked.

  “Behave, Nanette.”

  I giggled at his stern expression, and squeezed. He moaned. I grinned. Leaning forward, I extended my tongue and licked just the tip of his cock. He made an impatient sound, so I did it again, barely touching. It was gratifying to see him tense. Dipping my head further, I licked his balls, slowly and thoroughly covering them with layer after layer of saliva. I alternated sucking them into my mouth and warming them, then blowing on them to cool them. His hands clenched into fists in the sheets, and I began to murmur as I sucked, letting the vibration in my throat carry through my tongue to his sensitive spots.

  The impatience in his voice made me grin. “Suck my cock, little slave.”

  So I did, starting at the base and licking slowly – oh so slowly – from the base to the tip. Starting over at the base, I shifted slightly, tracing another line up with my tongue. And again. I coated the underside of his cock with long, slow licks. Wanting more, I sidled around him until my right knee touched the left side of his chest and I could reach the topside of it. Treating it the same with long, slow, tantalizing licks, I licked until he was completely slippery and wet. Then I wrapped my hand around the base of his shaft and started to pump, pulling and squeezing. Sucking the thick head into my mouth, I used my hand to stroke the space between my lips and his pelvis. He groaned behind me, and wrapped an arm around my hips, pulling me closer.

  “Suck me deeper.”

  I complied, taking as much of him into my mouth as I could comfortably fit. He spanked me, and I jumped, my teeth closing.

  “No biting!”

  He spanked me hard again, and I was careful to keep my tongue between my teeth and his flesh. His fingers found my slick cunt and slid in. I gasped, forcing my head down as far as I could in a thank you. Holding me steady with one arm, the other pumped slowly inside me, following the speed of my stroking mouth. I moaned, then sped up, and he followed suit. Greedy of pleasure, I bobbed hard on his cock, arching my back to give him better access, groaning as his cock bumped the back of my throat. It was difficult to match the speed I desired in my cunt with the speed I could provide with my head, but I tried. Sucking hard on each backstroke, I tried to stimulate his orgasm. Suddenly, it was successful, and my mouth was filled with cum. I sucked hard, holding my breath until he was finished, then releasing his flesh to swallow. His fingers paused and I whimpered. His breathy chuckle vibrated against my leg. He began to fuck me harder, jamming his fingers in deeper and deeper until the stretch burned and the pressure built up too high. I came, collapsing against him and crying out.

  The next morning I asked when Jeffery was coming back.

  “Another day or two.”

  “Does the boat come in the morning?

  “Yes, usually. They usually stop at the southernmost outpost for the night before continuing up the river to here.”

  “Okay.” I took a deep breath. “Do you ever want your own slave?”

  He finished fastening his overalls and turned to me, running a thumb down my cheek. “Why do you ask, Nanette?”

  I blushed. “I don't know. You're one of Roy's closest men. I'm just surprised you don't have one yet.”

  “I don't want a slave.”

  I looked up, startled.

  He smiled at me. “Don't worry, I enjoy you, little slave.”

  I flushed.

  “But I want a wife. Until then, I'm content to take what Roy and Jeffery allow.”

  I cocked my head, contemplating him. He didn't seem to have the cruel streak that Jeffery did, nor the overwhelming desire for authority that Roy did. I could see him married – though dominant, of course.

  “Now off with you. You want to have good reports for Jeffery when he comes back, don't you?”

  I squeaked when he slapped my bottom, sending me into the hallway towards the kitchen.

  Lauren sat at the table, her head listing to the side. I immediately went to her, concerned. She eyed me as I sat down and took her hand in mine. “What's wrong, ma'am? Is there anything I can do to help you?”

  She shook her head. “No, girl. I'm just exhausted.”

  I frowned. She always seemed so strong, like nothing could get her down. The men started to filter into the dining room, and I watched her make an effort to pull herself together. I realized she must have known Jessica for a long time too, but she'd spent all her energy on helping keep the rest of the House fed and the building clean. Not a single time in the last week had I seen her take a break for herself.

  I looked around. There was the pot for the porridge, but it wasn't even started yet. The men needed to eat before they went to work. I stood up. Putting on my best stern face, I shook my finger at her. “You sit there. I'll cook.”

  I had learned basic cooking from my mother, and felt a pang of longing, but I ignored it. Quickly, I scooped in enough of the dry rice, heating the pan on the flat metal burner. Stirring it until it was toasty, I struggled with the big water jug, but managed to get the water in. At least, I hoped it was enough. I could always add more later if I needed to. Stirring it and then putting a lid on, I pulled out bowls from the cabinet. Checking who was in the dining room, I set them on the worktable and started pulling down jars of fruits and vegetables. “What does Tobin eat on his?”

  She watched me bustle around, bemused. “No fruit. All nuts, chopped fine, a drizzle of honey.” I chopped the nuts and scooped them into a smaller bowl. It would mean more washing later, but if I could get the toppings ready while the porridge cooked, it would take less time to get it on the table for their breakfast.

  “How about Gerard?” Around we went, as I prepared the toppings in between stirs of the rice. There were only a few men there that I didn't recognize, but Lauren k
new them all by sight, knew their food preferences like the back of her hand. I marveled at the knowledge she'd stored up.

  Eventually, one of the men came up to the counter to inquire about the food. “Lauren? How's it coming?”

  Before she could answer I jumped in. “I have to do it all today. I have to prove I can cook breakfast all by myself.” I looked up at him with wide eyes. “I'm so sorry it's running late.” He blinked at me, and glanced to Lauren, who'd managed to sit up straight and look as indomitable as she usually did.

  “It'll be out shortly, Ian.”

  He went back to his seat and I returned to chopping the dried fruit for his porridge. She watched me, an unreadable look on her face. “What was the purpose of that?”

  I glanced up at her. “I didn't think you wanted anyone to see you in a moment of weakness.”

  She didn't answer, and I stirred the porridge again. It looked done, so I tasted a bit. Good enough. I carried the heavy pot to the table and started ladling it out, then dumping the toppings on. Sticking spoons in, I carried them out to the table. Ian made sure to compliment me, so I grinned at him.

  I put Lauren's bowl in front of her. “Eat, please, ma'am. Then tell me what the essential things are to do today.”

  She reached for the bowl, and took a bite. “Not enough honey.” I picked up the honey jar and poured another dollop onto her bowl, more than I knew she wanted. She caught my eye and I smiled. I was definitely finding my place in this House.

  When the men were finished eating, I collected their bowls and wished them good day. Roy remained where he was, slumped in his chair. Tobin stood nearby, Stephanie at his feet. Her eyes were swollen and red, her posture defeated. I went to Roy, unsure if I should try to speak to him or not.

  “My lord?”

  Stephanie looked up, her eyes narrowing as she considered something. I edged further away from her, wary.

  “My lord, is there anything I can get you?”

  Stephanie leaned closer. I bit my lip. Feeling very much like a rabbit right before a snake strike, I shifted a half step away. She stood up.