by Cali MacKay
The Pirate and the Feisty Maid
Part One—At His Hand
By Cali MacKay
The Pirate and the Feisty Maid
Part One—At His Hand
By Cali MacKay
Copyright © 2013 by Cali MacKay
Published by Daeron Press
Smashwords Edition
Http://calimackay.com
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher or author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. The story contained within is the work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual person’s living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing, 2013
ISBN: 9781940041117
*The material in this book is NOT suitable for readers under 18 years of age. Scenes are explicit and all acts are between consenting adults.*
For Joe, Maeve and Amelia.
The Pirate and the Feisty Maid
Part One—At His Hand
Chapter One
18th Century, Isle of Aetheria in the warmer waters of the East Sea
Molly hadn’t been expecting Ronan to arrive that day. Indeed, she hadn’t expected him to return from his journey at sea for another two weeks’ time. She should have known. Two years they’d been together, and he always surprised her, weeks early or weeks late.
So here he stood before her, not taking her into his arms like she’d expect from a lover having just returned after six months away, but rather pacing the room like an animal caged, his power coiled tight within.
“I’ve heard rumors, Molly. Rumors that ye weren’t on yer best behavior whilst I was away.” When he spoke, his demeanor was one of calm and control, as it always was when dealing with her. Never had he raised his voice to her, for there was no need, their understanding of one another complete. “Is it true, lass?”
How he managed to hear rumors whilst at sea had always been a mystery to her. Perhaps he just assumed she’d misbehave in his absence, for she always did. The months he was gone left her so lonely, she could not bear it. At the worst of times, she’d seek comfort in the arms of her maid. However, there was a part of her that misbehaved on purpose, knowing she’d have to face the consequences—consequences she would surely pay for at his hand.
He came to stand before her, pulling her from her thoughts. “When I ask ye a question, I expect an answer.”
She couldn’t look at him, for she knew he’d see the truth in her eyes, yet it took all she had to not gaze in his direction, desperately wanting to drink in his handsome form and face after missing him so. He tilted her chin up with a roughened finger, so she was forced to look at him.
“Dear Molly, answer me.” Though she could see the love he had for her in his bright blue eyes, there was also a hard glint there, one she was all too familiar with. Captain of his ship—and a pirate, if the truth be told—he knew how to be stern and was not a man to be disobeyed.
Her heart raced, its deafening beat echoing in her ears as a wave of need swept through her, his effect on her immediate. “It is true.”
He was so close, she could still smell the salty sea on him, and in their time apart, his beard had grown thick, his skin weathered from the elements and bronzed, despite his Highland blood. Having him so near made her knees want to give way with the hope he’d take her in his arms and do with her as he wished—as long as he was touching her, she cared not how.
When his face brushed up against hers, her eyes fluttered shut, his beard rough against her smooth cheek, his words but a whisper. “Did I not tell ye there’d be consequences? And yet ye still misbehave. It makes me wonder if ye like me punishing ye, for I dinna ken a bolder lass.” His warm breath at her ear sent a shiver over her skin, so it took all she had to not lean against him.
She was desperate to feel his lips on hers, but as if sensing her need, he stepped away from her. “Is that it, my sweet? Do you like making me punish ye?”
Her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, for it was nothing but the truth, even if she could not bring herself to admit it out loud. She craved his control and discipline, the pain that flared into a deep pleasure, and how he pushed her to her limits and then some, so she came through it all in the end feeling whole and at peace.
The thought of his firm hand had a pulse throbbing between her legs, leaving her wet as she remembered the last time he’d put her over his knee. Already she was squirming under his scrutiny, both dreading and yearning for what he’d do to her and how it’d feel to be at his mercy.
He was the only one who’d ever come close to taming her. Bold and strong-willed, she’d never thought to let anyone have such control over her, and yet it was different with Ronan. From the start, he’d understood her. Understood that she truly longed to have him bend her to his will. And that if she misbehaved, he knew it was so she’d not feel guilty about giving him such control—even if it was what she truly wanted.
Ronan cupped her face, and brushed a thumb across her bottom lip, her eyes fluttering closed for just a moment as she tried not to lean against his palm. And then his touch was gone. “Answer me, Molly. If ye’re testing me by trying my patience, ye won’t be doing yerself any favors.”
He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it onto the chair, the fabric of his shirt stretching taut over the muscles of his broad back. She then watched as he slowly rolled up one sleeve, then the other, taking his time so that each moment that passed left her mind racing through images of the punishment she’d receive, her quim flexing in needy anticipation. His strong jaw, tall and muscular build, those intelligent blue eyes and his mere presence—they all worked together to have her breath hitching and her heart racing, her love for him overwhelming.
“Molly… have ye forgotten that I’m waiting?” His lips quirked in a hint of a smile, as if he’d caught her pining after him, the intensity of his keen gaze leaving her dizzy. “Let me repeat myself, lest ye’ve forgotten my question, since it’s been so long since I first asked it. Do ye misbehave because ye enjoy it when I punish ye?”
She knew not what to say, but knew she must answer him, even if it was clear to everyone involved that she broke the rules he set on purpose. Still, the words stuck in her throat and she couldn’t bring herself to admit the truth behind her actions. “No, m’lord. I’m sorry if I’ve caused you distress. I hadn’t meant to.”
“Ye ken I’ll not abide ye causing trouble. Ye’ll still need to be punished, whether ye meant to disobey me or not—and I do believe ye had every intention of doing just that, since I don’t imagine ye just accidentally fell into bed with yer maid.” Grabbing her wrist he pulled her towards the bed and sat on the edge of the thick mattress.
In one quick move he had her over his knee, holding her in place with a sturdy arm across her waist. She couldn’t help but struggle now, knowing what was to come, even if her quim ached with need. A quick move had her long skirts up around her waist, leaving her bare and exposed, the summer day too hot to wear more proper underpinnings and corsetry.
As her arse twitched and clenched in anticipation, he gently laid his hand across her plump arse to steady her. “Molly. I’ll not have ye flailing about like a fish on a hook. Be still with ye, or ye’ll only make yer punishment worse.”
His words and firm tone immediately put a stop to her squirming. She took a deep breath and let her eyes rest on the floor as she awaited her fate. Waiting for that first blow was almo
st worse than the blow itself, for she could only imagine that first meeting of flesh with flesh, his broad weathered palm against her delicate skin. The mere thought of it had her squeezing her legs together to try and suppress her need, though it did nothing but make matters worse, her juices flowing. His hand, still rough on her arse, now rubbed it gently, making her body tense further in anticipation.
The first blow fell hard and fast, with no warning, like a crack of lightning across her flesh. She stifled a yelp as tears sprung to her eyes and the pain heightened her need for him. After so many months away, she should’ve known he wouldn’t start off with a light hand, even if there was no need to reestablish their roles.
“Why do ye make me do this to ye, sweet Molly?”
He landed another blow and another, alternating cheeks so each one felt as if it’d been set on fire, the pain melting into pleasure. Giving her a moment, he rubbed the spots he’d paddled with one hand, while the other ran over her slit to find her dripping wet, her arousal from his ministrations undeniable. She raised her arse towards him, desperate for release and wanting to feel his rough fingers fill her. Yet he did not oblige her, clearly enjoying her struggles.
“What is it ye want, my love?” His hand landed across her arse cheek again, the hot sear across her skin sending a shiver of need through her. “Tell me what ye want, and maybe I’ll oblige ye.”
As bold as she could be, she found it difficult to tell him what she so desired, the words always sticking in her throat like days-old bread. Another slap had her sucking in a deep breath, his male scent mixing with that of the sea, so that her head swam with the want of him. When missing him most, she’d often go down to the shore late at night, to take in the smells of the salty air and think of him as she satisfied herself, though it only left her missing him all the more, her ministrations a poor substitute.
“Tell me, my love. Tell me what ye want. Is it this?” Another slap across her arse had her reeling with desire, even as her tears ran down her cheeks, her entire face red and hot with need and the delicious embarrassment of her predicament. She breathed in his salty scent again, her cunt throbbing.
His finger ran down between her arse cheeks, to the slippery wet heat between her legs, plunging in this time, so that a moan escaped her lips. “Answer me, Molly. Is this what ye want?” He fingered her, in and out, adding a second finger and then a third, thrusting deep, while rubbing her swollen nub. She teetered on the edge, needing just a little more of his touch, when he withdrew his fingers, and smacked her bottom again, the blow landing hard across her arse and sex this time, forcing her to bite back a yelp.
Taking a ragged breath, she was now desperate enough to plead with him, desperate to have him fill her. “Please…”
Her entire body screamed for release, but she knew he’d not give it to her until he thought she’d suffered enough, her penance for disobeying him. By now, she was reeling with want, her arse fidgeting in the air as it sought out his hand, hoping he’d show her some mercy and either thrust his strong fingers into her once more or continue with her punishment, knowing it would only heighten her pleasure when he did finally take her.
“Please? If ye want something, my sweet lass, ye need but ask. What is it ye need, my love?” She could tell he was smiling now, could hear it in his voice, and it made her heart flutter.
She’d been his from the start and he knew her like no other—knew what she needed, what she wanted. He knew how much she could take, though he always pushed her just past her limits so she came through it stronger and more whole—more aware of who she truly was and what she truly needed and desired.
“Say it, sweet Molly. Tell me you want more.” His hand sat idly on her rear, the heat of it against her reddened cheek like a hot iron on her skin.
“More… please.” She forced herself to get the words out, knowing he was fully capable of leaving her like this, aching and desperate, for days if need be. She would rather beg and plead than endure that hell.
He thrashed her bottom until it was hot and swollen and she teetered on the edge of release, her tears running freely down her cheeks. Then, with a quick and effortless move, he had her sprawled on the bed on all fours, with his cock free of his britches. One thrust into her throbbing wet sex had him buried to the hilt, his hard shaft stretching her as his balls bounced off her swollen clit. It took but a few deep strokes, his name torn from her lips as she came and he joined her, his cock pumping its hot seed into her, making her punishment and redemption complete.
He tenderly gathered her to him and kissed her tears away, leaving her content and happy, her heart and soul finally complete now that she was in his arms once more. “Welcome home, my love.”
Chapter Two
Molly drew Ronan a bath, knowing he’d want to wash properly and have a soak. The tub was deep enough to float in and large enough for four, lined in elaborate indigo tiles Ronan had brought back from one of his travels. Luckily, hot water was readily available on Aetheria, since the island sat atop a volcano. It would’ve taken half the day to get the water heated properly otherwise.
As Molly busied herself with preparing the bath, her maid slipped in, a look of guilt on her beautiful face. “Did he know?” Ilsa’s brow was drawn with worry, waiting for Molly’s response.
“Doesn’t he always?” Molly took Ilsa’s hand in hers, hoping to calm the poor girl. “Don’t go worrying yourself. You know he’s not really cross with us.”
Ilsa looked at their hands. “Was it terribly bad?”
Molly knew Ilsa was fully aware of all that happened in the house, and couldn’t help but smile at her friend. “You know the truth of it is that I fully enjoy it, though I don’t think I’ll be sitting any time soon.”
When Ilsa looked at her with those big brown eyes and full, soft lips, Molly couldn’t help but kiss her—the gentle press of her lips a lovely contrast to Ronan’s rough ravishment, still fresh on her mind.
“So, is this what ye get up to when I’m gone?” The voice had them jumping apart as they turned to face Ronan who stood there in nothing but his britches and boots, his lithe and muscular torso exposed, the light glinting off the metal pierced through his nipples. He did not comment further. “Has the bath been drawn?”
He stepped up to Molly, just as Ilsa melted away and slipped out of the room. Ronan’s arm went around her waist, pulling her to him as he kissed her most thoroughly, his beard tickling her skin. His tongue bullied its way past her lips as she lost herself in his kiss, her need for him flaring into life once more. His hands drifted to her bottom, cupping her cheeks to pull her to him, his cock hard as it pressed up against her. She sucked in her breath as he gave a squeeze, her arse still raw, the pain rippling into pleasure.
Still holding her, he pulled away just enough to look at her, mischief in his eyes as his lips tugged into a whisper of a smile. “Did I care for yer needs so poorly that ye feel it necessary to run into yer maid’s arms so soon after? Should we call her back and she can show me how to satisfy ye?”
Molly shook her head no, mortified that he’d think her not satisfied, and blushing at the thought of him watching her with Ilsa. It wasn’t something he had ever done, yet her mind couldn’t help but think of what it would be like. The thought of Ronan watching her with Ilsa had her quim going wet once more.
Pulling herself away from such thoughts, she answered Ronan’s question, her arse already too sore to risk another tawsing. “No, my love. I’d not meant anything by it.”
Her hand went up to cup his face, taking him in— his thick beard, his bright blue eyes, his dark hair pulled back and tied with a leather thong. She would never tire of looking at him. Her entire being had ached for him while he was away.
“Come then.” He quickly undressed her, letting her remove the remainder of his clothing, though when it came time to climb into the bath, she hesitated. “What is it, Molly?” His lips curled in a sly smile.
He knew damn well what it was, and she nearly said so
. The hot water against her freshly paddled arse would burn like someone had set a torch to it, the mere thought of it enough to make her entire body clench. She bit her bottom lip and stepped into the bath, stopping just before her arse touched the water.
When he burst out laughing, she threw him a stern look. “It’s not funny in the least.”
Yet it wasn’t long before she was half laughing, half whimpering, as she lowered herself into the hot water, going completely under to emerge dripping wet, her skin eventually adjusting to the temperature.
She let him pull her in for a kiss. When he spoke, his head bent to hers, his voice was heady and thick with emotion. “Ye ken that I missed ye, aye?”
Cupping his face, her breath hitched as she looked into those bright blue eyes of his, overwhelmed with the love she felt for the man before her. “And I you.”
Unable to resist and still not quite believing he was back, she kissed him until she was breathless and dizzy with the want of him. He bit her lip and nuzzled her, and then she reached for the soap. Ducking under the water, Ronan emerged looking like Neptune himself, the water streaming down his muscular form, her heart racing at the sight.
Taking the straight razor, she lathered his beard and carefully started to shave it off with slow strokes of the blade, the sound of the metal scraping against the coarse hairs filling her head. Her heart pounded with the danger of it, and soared to know he trusted her so completely. Normally clean-shaven when on land, he shaved less frequently when at sea—just enough to keep the sun on his face.
He turned his back towards her so that she might wash his hair, and she obliged him, lathering the thick dark curls before rinsing them. Her hands moved over his body, the soap slick as she washed the salt and sweat from his skin, their bodies sliding against each other in the hot water.