by A. E. Murphy
I sob, rolling over and burying my face in the pillow that smells of lemons and fresh linen.
My hands ache to wander down to my private place and bring myself to orgasm. The need is so deep and desperate I can’t bear it.
I’ve never felt so aroused but this is entirely different. This is a raging need that’s near painful. This is like being deprived of oxygen if sex were oxygen.
“Niall,” I sob, twisting, thrashing my legs and turning until I can grip the blanket and press it against my groin. “I’m dying.” I need it. I just need to be filled, to be fucked. Oh my God.
I’ll take anything right now. A dildo… a shampoo bottle… ANYTHING.
The door opens, bringing with it a cooling draft.
“Release my hand,” I beg him as he nears me, pressing his hand to my neck.
His touch alone sends me wild. I’m out of control and I don’t care. I have no shame.
“Please, Captain. I can’t take this.”
“I know,” he whispers soothingly, taking the sodden towel from my body and heading to the bathroom.
“Please,” I beg but I’m not sure what for. “Help me. I can’t stand it. I really can’t stand it. I’m going to die.”
He returns with the same towel and places it back over my body.
“If I let you have your hand you’ll harm yourself.”
“I don’t care. I just… I need to come and I’ll be better.”
“Jesus,” he whispers, checking my wrists. “I’ll be back later.”
“No, please,” I cry, kicking out at him. “Do something. Make a cure. Throw me in the sea… anything.”
He exits and I scream with frustration, tossing the towel off me with my legs. I immediately regret it because now I feel too warm again.
“CAPTAIN! PLEASE!”
No reply.
The feeling intensifies, like eating one hot chilli after another even after your mouth is burning. That’s how this feels, like a spicy chilli on my libido.
Time passes, I don’t know how much but when the door opens I try to throw myself at him but the cuffs stop me. I don’t care who he is. I don’t care who he is to me or what he’s done.
I just need this to stop.
“Okay, I give you permission to fuck me now,” I mutter as he scoops up the towel.
He stops in his tracks and I see his resolve wavering. This is not a good man. He’ll cave eventually if I beg him enough. The blur of desire is overpowering every other desire and emotion. I am not in my right mind.
“I’ll be bad with you. I’ll do anything.”
His throat bobs with a swallow. “Don’t tempt me. You’ll regret it in the morning.”
“I won’t… I need it so bad. Please. Please.”
He walks away without even tossing the towel back on me. FUCK!
“I hate it here!” I scream like a petulant child and bury my face into the pillow again. “I hate this boat! I hate this life! I hate this fucking bed!”
When will this end?
Please… make it end. God have mercy.
Every time I think it’s getting better it flares up again. My body needs to be touched, my wrists are raw from where I’ve been pulling them. I’m ready to chew my arm off until finally… finally… the door opens again.
Captain strides over to the bed, purpose in each step. He takes one look at me and plants his knee into the end of the mattress.
“What are you doing?” I ask when he grabs the hem of my shorts and yanks them down my legs.
“Just remember, you asked me to help you.”
“What?” I breathe, thinking he’s about to give me what I need but then he grins at me and slowly lowers his head between my thighs.
I don’t even have enough shame to tell him to stop.
His mouth touches me there and his hands grip the top of my thighs, keeping me still as he dines on me so deliciously.
I writhe against him and on the fifth touch of his tongue I lose it, pulsing against his mouth. He doesn’t stop there, he pushes two fingers into me and God they slide in so easily, that’s how wet and ready I am.
“More,” I beg. “Faster.”
I feel his smug smile as I unravel again, the drugs are the reason this feels so good, not him, he’s just a tool in my sexual pleasure box right now. He’s nothing more.
“Please, don’t stop.” I grind against his face, biting on my lip when he moans against me, fuelling my already combustible body. “I want to fuck you. Please let me.”
He doesn’t stop, he keeps working his mouth and fingers, bringing me to orgasm again and again until finally, I crash.
The lights suddenly go out as the tingles spread through my body one last time.
My body hurts, my arms ache and I desperately need to pee.
I look down, seeking out the weight on my lower half and my eyes widen as my heart beats at a pace so quick it becomes a constant hum.
Sleeping softly, his head resting on my navel, his torso on one of my thighs, my other thigh over his folded arm, is the captain. I stare down at the top of his curly, dark mahogany hair. I’ve never seen his hair as he always wears a bandana. It’s so curly, but they’re thick curls, not quite afro. I want to run my fingers through it because it looks so soft but I don’t want to wake him.
I’ll be mortified if he gloats at me for this. I already can’t forgive myself.
If I ever make it home, what will I tell Niall?
He’s resting directly over my bladder though and my hands are still cuffed. They’re going to hurt so bad today.
“Umm…” I shake my hips a little. “Captain?”
His arms tighten around my hips, and he sighs, sending warm breath across my cold navel.
He could have had sex with me last night so easily and I wouldn’t have been able to blame him this morning but he didn’t. Does he not want it?
Why am I so offended? He spent hours eating me out. He must have passed out at the same time as I did.
This is so fucked up.
“Captain?” My voice is a little bit louder this time.
He groans, waking.
His face turns into my stomach igniting a fire like the night before but not as powerful thankfully. This one I can ignore.
“Good morning, vixen,” he mumbles against my skin and kisses the space above my mound before looking at me with sleepy, green eyes. “How are you feeling?”
“Embarrassed,” I admit and his smile broadens in such a boyish and triumphant way. “Please… don’t ever mention this again.”
He pulls himself up my body, sliding himself between my thighs for just a moment before sitting on his knees and undoing my cuffs.
I cry out as my arms drop and rub my sore wrists.
He takes the tub of Vaseline from the table but before he can touch me with it again, I snatch it from him and rub it on my wrists myself.
“I haven’t slept that well in…” He stops to think. “A while.”
Me neither, I think, but definitely do not verbally repeat.
I pull the blanket over my body to hide my nudity from the waist down.
“I’m going to shower.”
He lifts his shirt as he goes, giving me another glimpse of the magnificent tattoo. The phoenix looks so three dimensional. It’s magnificent.
“I can feel your eyes.”
I can still feel your tongue.
The second he leaves for a day of whatever it is he does, I stand under the shower and scrub until my skin is red raw, I brush my teeth until mint is all I’ll be able to taste and smell for a week, I brush my hair until my scalp is sore and then I follow. My stomach gripes with hunger and, luckily, Geoffrey meets me with an apology in the form of a rose made out of red tissue. He bows low and escorts me to the canteen where I have never been.
I’m left alone as I queue for food, some men even go as far as to actively avoid me, likely worried they’ll lose their fingers.
“Does he really do that?” I ask Geoffrey as we
slide our trays along the metal rack and take the food portions given to us. “Does he really chop off fingers as punishment?”
“Depends on the crime,” Geoffrey replies, nodding at the table closest to us. “Second in, guy with the white beard, look at his left hand.”
I glance at it curled around a cup and stop in my tracks, Geoffrey nearly bumps into me as Chatterbox bumps into him. The fourth finger, the ring finger, is non-existent from the first knuckle. Bile rises in my throat as I imagine that happening to him while awake, with no pain relief.
“That is savage on a ridiculous scale.”
“It’s how we are.” He motions to the room with one hand, balancing the tray on his other. “Like I said before, this place is full of criminals of all kinds. They understand violence and death. They understand pain.”
“I don’t understand them.”
“I know.”
I look down at my tray and at the rest of the room, wondering how much longer I can blend, how much longer until I snap, desperate for home comforts. “Why am I here, Geoffrey?”
He gives me a sad look and opens his mouth, hopefully to tell me, but he’s cut off by Chatterbox clicking his fingers between our faces. We look at him and he nods over to the corner where Roger is standing with his group of merry men. Roger waves at me.
Geoffrey whispers, “Just say the word and I’ll poison his tea.”
I giggle, a foreign sound to my ears, and follow him out of the canteen. We sit on the outer steps leading to the bridge as it has the best view and I squeal with delight when I see the back of a whale breach the surface of the water.
“What the hell is all of the noise?” Clunk bellows after the door to the bridge opens with a heavy bang that shakes the entire staircase.
“There’s a whale,” I point to where its blowhole spurts a shower of water.
Clunk rolls his eyes and turns back, if only to move for the two younger men who want to see the whale that I can see.
“Captain has ridden a whale.”
Maybe my whale escape could be a possibility?
“He has?”
Geoffrey nods. “I could’ve too but I’m not a strong swimmer.”
“Me neither. Can only just not drown in a pool, I’d have no hope here.”
He bumps his shoulder against mine and we watch the whale disappear then reappear further away.
“That’s a blue whale,” Captain says calmly as he descends the metal steps to where I am. “Not the biggest we’ve seen, probably no more than a couple of years old.”
I nod thoughtfully and watch it vanish again.
“They have the loudest voice in the entire world.” I feel his heat at my back, before I feel his chest against my back. He tucks my hair behind my ear. “Even louder than your cries last night.”
When I dig him in his ribs with the point of my elbow he bites on my ear and keeps me in place.
“Why must you torment the poor woman?” Geoffrey snaps, admonishing his captain in a way that has the captain raising his brow and Geoffrey shrinking away slightly. “I just mean… after what she’s going through already. Leave her be.”
“Maybe she doesn’t want me to leave her be?”
“She definitely does,” I murmur, digging my elbow into his ribs again.
He chuckles which only infuriates me.
“Why am I here?”
“Because.”
I could punch him. “Why?”
“You truly think knowing will make it any better?” he asks as I turn in his arms and stare up at him.
“It’ll help.”
He cups his hand over the watch on his wrist and looks at Geoffrey. “Leave us.”
Geoffrey nods and pinches my hip as he passes.
Captain watches him go and then looks at me with a curious gaze. “You’re settling better than I’d thought of a hostage.”
“I’m adapting,” I reply, trying to lean out of his bubble but it’s impossible as he has me caged in, he really likes having me trapped. “I actually want to go home.”
“Maybe you will.”
“Don’t rub it in that my life literally rests in your hands. I’ll lose my mind quicker.”
He finally steps away. “I have you here because your boyfriend has information I need and he refused to give it.”
I hesitate. “What information? Did he reveal it?”
“That’s not important and no. We’re at a stalemate.” He clears his throat. “He won’t give me the information until I return you.”
My heart races. Could this be it?
“Don’t look so hopeful. I’m not returning you until I have the information.”
“Are you returning me at all?”
He twiddles my hair around his finger. “Maybe by the time we get to land, you won’t want to leave.”
“Keep dreaming.” This time he doesn’t laugh at my sass and I don’t assess his reaction because I don’t want to care about how he feels. “Take me home.”
He doesn’t reply, I’m sick of silence and pauses and hesitations and fucking mind games.
“Fine… can I at least speak to Niall? Or my mum? Or anyone?”
“No.”
I grab the front of his shirt. “I promise I won’t give away anything. Not that I can…”
“No.”
Growling with frustration, I push him back a step and rage my way down the stairs, putting as much distance between us as possible.
Then, another thought comes to mind. I’ve got free rein. Maybe I can find a phone? They couldn’t have locked them all down. He got a signal so maybe I can too.
Or did he use a special ship phone?
Are there special ship phones?
I walk to the side, starboard side and lean over. The drop is at least forty feet, if not more. This thing is massive. I’ve been mostly confined to this section of the maze but it would take so long to explore. I suppose that’s a good thing, more running space if needed and more people which means more phones.
I wait for the whale to reappear as I gather my thoughts and devise a plan of action but nothing happens.
Exploring seems dangerous when creepy Roger is intent on finding me alone, damn the consequences. I look around but everybody on the deck is busy or chatting, nobody has a phone. Why don’t they have phones? Everybody has a fucking phone!
I wander around, making it look aimless, despite the fact it is. Why do we always feel shiftier when we’ve something mischievous on our minds. I always feel like people will hear my internal monologue and catch me before I can act upon it.
I hope they can’t because then they’d know all of my thoughts regarding last night and how incredible it felt and how confused I am about it all.
Do I have Stockholm syndrome?
I roll my eyes at my own stupidity, I’m not in love with the guy, nor do I feel indebted to him. I just feel tingly. That’s all. Tingly.
If I had a gun I could gladly put a bullet between his eyes. Maybe.
I move from starboard to port side slowly, glancing around me hesitantly, moving to the ridge that overlooks the rest of the ship before finally leaning back on the railing.
I let my head hang and that’s when I see it again, the humongous blue whale, a back with very few barnacles. It swims alongside the ship, surfacing. I see water swirl around its massive blowhole like a drain and grin when it blows it out a little, not a massive puff like before. More like a sneeze, if whales can sneeze.
“I see you,” I murmur, envying the creature of its freedom.
But then I see something foreign, sticking to the creature’s back that definitely shouldn’t be there. It’s small, the size of my hand and is positioned near the widest curve of its back. It’s a tag!
I strain to look, mentally taking a note of the green colour with some red.
Maybe my whale survival theory isn’t as farfetched as I originally thought.
Bedtime comes too slowly after waiting all day for somebody to use a phone. Nobody does and
I feel even more frustrated than before which is saying something. I wonder if it’s so they can’t be traced or tracked, or perhaps they prefer a simpler life.
I take position in my corner, glaring at Captain when he walks in, strips off his shirt and moves to his workout equipment. His huffing, puffing, grunting and counting grates on me. Still, I remain quiet, only moving when he finishes forty-five minutes later and whistles his sweaty way into the bathroom.
I move straight to his discarded clothes and search through his pockets. There’s nothing, not his blade, nor his phone.
Shit.
Where the hell would he keep them?
He doesn’t trust me, not yet anyway.
I do find a pair of small binoculars on the table in the other room and decide to commandeer them for myself. If only for a little while.
“What are you doing, I wonder?”
I almost drop them from my eyes because a pair of large, warm hands slide around my hips.
My first instinct is to push him away but then I remember I have to be smart. I have to get him to trust me.
Though if I suddenly start letting him touch me will he be less trusting? This has to be gradual. I must be patient.
“Don’t,” I insist, gripping his hands as they smooth over my belly, dipping under the baggy shirt that belongs to him. “Please.”
“You don’t sound very convincing,” he murmurs into my ear as his hand grasps my bare breast and squeezes. “You enjoyed last night.”
My teeth bite into my lip until it aches. A mixture of arousal and embarrassment flood my veins.
“A lot.”
“The drugs…”
“Played a small part in what I can do to your body with my mouth.” He kisses from my ear to my neck, hooking his fingers around the top of the shirt and yanking it to the side to allow the breeze and his lips to flutter over more skin. “Want me to prove it?”
I do. I really do.
“No.”
“Liar.” His breath warms my skin, heating the cool moisture left behind by his lips.
With a sudden movement, he thrusts his hand into the shorts I’m wearing and cups my mound. A strong finger immediately plunges into my wetness and drags it to my pulsing clit, still tingling from the night before.