Rum, Sodomy and the Lash Ch. 11

"Want it rough, do you, my lady?" he growled, flipping her skirts up and planting a knee between her thighs so they were spread for his inspection. Kitty continued to gape at Maria's plight. Now she had Arturo's cock in her mouth and was sucking at it with relish while Baldini pushed into her from behind. "Good God, you're dripping!" commented Prince sardonically. "You aren't as horrified by all this as you would have us believe, are you?"

"Indeed, it is you who excites me, and only you," insisted Kitty, though she was hard-pressed to deny that the sight of Maria moaning as two loads of seed spurted respectively between two sets of lips was rather stimulating. Maria and her two lovers fell to languid kissing and caressing, turning their heads to spectate on the Captain's efforts.

"Why, Jakey, that thing is bigger than ever," laughed Maria as he unbuttoned and released his proud tool. "Kitty doesn't know what a lucky girl she is."

"Oh, I think she does," he demurred, locking her knees with his elbows and ploughing into her tender depths without preamble. Kitty had been subjected to a number of humiliating experiences at the Captain's hands, but being taken in front of an audience was new to her and she endeavoured to block out her view of the curious onlookers while she was pounded hard into the soft fabric of the divan.

"I would love to have her suck me while you are doing that, Jake," mentioned Baldini bluntly, but at the risk of offending his host, Prince refused to allow his participation. He huffed a little, then turned to Maria and had her do the honours instead.

"Just look at me, my Kit," crooned the Captain, aware of how disconcerting this was for his lady. "Just look at my eyes while I take you. You are almost there, my love, almost there. I can feel you tighten and clench around me...you can feel my hard width stretching you...yes, come for me, my lady, yes...." And she did, twisting and writhing around his rod while the audience clapped and cheered their approval. Prince gushed forth into her channel seconds later, rocking soothingly atop her until she had descended from her cloud of orgasmic miasma. They were kissing passionately, oblivious to all around them, when there came the sounds of an alarum from the door. The lovers broke their embrace and saw a number of men uniformed in the unmistakable garb of the British Navy.

The Captain reacted instantaneously, pulling Kitty by the wrist after him as he fled through the double doors to the next room, desperately looking for some back stairs or a way to safely get down to street level. It took him seconds to ascertain that there was only one option; a steep drop that he could manage on his own but not with Kitty. He pulled his britches back up, tucking Kitty back into her corsets simultaneously.

"Kitty," he said, "Run and hide, my love. Try to get out of this as fast as you can – Baldini has sold me, it seems, and I have to take flight."

"Captain...Jake!" she implored.

"I will come for you. Now hide. Do it, Kit." He snatched a wild, sweet kiss before leaping out through the shutters and on to the cobbles below. Whimpering with anxiety, Kitty ran on, finally concealing herself in a cupboard in one of Baldini's many sitting rooms.

She shivered in the dark for a matter of minutes, though to Kitty the time seemed to stretch out for eternity. When would she be safe? How long would they search for? Would they capture the Captain? Was this it? Would they both hang?

The clamour of boots rushed into the room. She heard doors open and shutters bang. She held her breath for so long she thought she might faint. Then her cupboard door was flung wide and she looked into the faces of two British officers.

"Lady Catherine Tremayne?" one of them brayed. "Come with us. You're under arrest."

*

Kitty awoke and yawned. Judging by the light that shone onto the flagstones of her cell it was another fine morning. The last morning, fine or otherwise, of her life. Today she would hang.

She lay watching the shafts of sunshine make patterns on the floor and thought of the lie her lover had told her. "I'll come for you." For all that she had always known he was a bad man, one of the worst, she had trusted his word. She had believed in him.

Many bitter tears had been shed by the dishonoured Lady over this, her beloved's perfidy, but now she was spent. It had been six long months since her arrest in Naples, and in all that time she had heard not a whisper about him.

Oh, she had been questioned extensively as she lay, wretched and retching, in the brig of the Naval vessel that had brought her back to England. How did she come to be in Prince's company? Was she his accomplice? Where had he gone? What could she tell them about him? Mutinously she had refused to answer any of their questions. They had made any number of lewd suggestions about their relationship – most of them quite well-founded – but she had gritted her teeth and ignored them. In her heart, she rejoiced that he was clearly still at liberty. Because he would come for her.

Every day she had listened out for a hue and cry on the upper decks, signifying a pirate raid, but when none had come she still had that crumb of comfort. Of course he would not attack a Naval ship – they were equally matched in firepower, and a fair fight was not the pirate way. But once they were in port...then he would come for her.

But Kitty had disembarked at Bristol and been transported to the prison, and there had been no highway robbery en route.

At her trial, Kitty had expected every day to see a glimpse of black hair and a flash of blade amongst the crowds of ghoulish gawpers in the public gallery. But there had been none. She had been found guilty and sentenced to death.

So now, here it was. Execution Day. Kitty stood on her bunk and stared listlessly through the bars at the prison yard. They were putting the final touches to the gallows, throwing the rope over and looping the noose. The yard gates were open, unusually, so that members of the public could come and watch the spectacle. Already a few enthusiasts were setting up their front-row places. A pie seller was in situ by the gate and another fellow was hawking sheet music; a new ballad penned in Kitty's honour, telling the story of her crime and her romance with the pirate Captain. 'The Wickedest Woman in all England' was its title.

Kitty heard the heavy door creak open and the usual doleful tone of the gaoler. "Breakfast, milady. Your last..." His utterances ended in a strangled cry. Kitty turned to see what was amiss and gasped at the sight.

The gaoler was half-garrotted by a length of rope; his flaccid cheeks turning purple as he spluttered. Behind him, wielding the weapon with a dazzling grin, was....

"Oh, my love. You are come!"

Kitty leapt from the bunk to the outstretched hand of her deliverer.

"We cannot stop, Kit. Come quickly." They ran along the corridor, down steps and out of the entrance, where they were spotted by the pair of guards that stood sentry. The Captain picked up even more pace, yet he was able to whirl around and aim a dagger at his pursuers, throwing them into immediate confusion. As they passed the music-seller, he winked at them and moved back, getting between the escapers and the chasers by throwing his tray of parchments up in the air around them. Prince and Kitty now had a chance to draw away from the soldiers, and they made it around the corner, where they ran slap-bang into another pair of guards. The Captain drew his sword and began duelling one of them, while a couple of men from the milling crowd rushed up and joined in the fray, tackling the other guard. In the meantime, the pie seller took Kitty's hand and ran with her into the melee, through the narrow streets until the mob thinned out and they were almost at the dockside.

Eventually, as she was convinced she would fall over and die, he whisked her into a tavern and behind the bar to a backroom, where two other men were waiting for them.

"Tis all working according to plan," said the pie-seller. "The Captain will be back directly."

"Oh, I recognise you now," panted Kitty in wonder as a tankard of ale was slapped down in front of her. "It's Toothless Ted, isn't it?"

"Aye," he grinned, revealing the reason for his moniker. "Pleased to see us?"

"I should certainly say so," said Kitty, draining the tankard in one draught, as if she were herself a pirate. She lay back against the bench and kept her eye beadily on the door, hoping against hope that the Captain would be striding through it soon, so she need no longer worry that he had been killed in her rescue attempt. But after another tankard of ale, and then another, he was still not back.

"Don't worry, milady," reassured the crew men. "The Captain will be back."

But Kitty slumped down on the deal table, disconsolate and worried and rather drunk. She fell into a restless sleep, and the landlady had to have the pirates carry her up to the room on the first floor that the Captain had stipulated for them.

*

Stirring in the dark, Kitty awoke from yet another dream of the noose and sat bolt upright, crying out. She stared around at her dark and unfamiliar surroundings, disorientated for a moment. This was not the gaol. She fumbled around on the bedside table until she was able to light the candle. She was almost fully clothed in her execution garb. Oh God, it was late, very late, and the Captain was not back. He must have been killed or captured. It was surely more than fourteen hours since he had rescued her. Oh God. She buried her face in her hands, wondering what on earth would become of her, a young woman alone with only a rabble of pirates for company.

She would have to get away. She could hear the sounds of their carousing downstairs in the tavern and shuddered to think what would happen once the keg ran dry. No doubt they would all pile in here and expect to share her bed. And her body.

She stole down the creaky stairs and estimated how easy it would be to get out without being noticed. The door to the bar was open, but if she was swift, she could slip down the passage without being seen. She tiptoed along, hearing the rowdy chorus of a drinking song waft through. Then there was a sound, nearer, just by the door, that made her heart jump violently. "Perhaps just one more then."

It was HIM. He was alive. He'd been down here all along, letting her think he was dead. Incandescent, she pulled her shawl around her imperiously and marched into the bar. There was a confusion of cheers as she stood, arms folded and face like thunder, in front of the rather inebriated Captain. He looked up at her with bloodshot eyes, slapped his thigh clumsily and slurred, "Kitty, my love. C'mere."

"How dare you?" she fumed shrilly. "How dare you let me go on thinking you'd been killed when all the time you were down here getting drunk? Have you any idea...?" Kitty's tirade was cut short as Captain Prince pulled her down on to his lap, encircling her waist with an iron grip and seeing to it that her mouth was employed in kissing rather than cursing. Despite her wrath, Kitty was drawn unavoidably into embrace, tasting the heated rum on his tongue and surrendering to his thorough possession of her lips. So heady was his virile scent and the feel of his hard, male body after such long separation that Kitty began to tremble with the force of her need for him. Prince felt her response and acted on it. Pushing away the glass that had been set before him, he stood, heaving Kitty into his arms.

"Apologies, gentlemen," he said to his crew, "I have business to attend to. I'm sure you'll understand if I take my leave."

Ribald laughter accompanied their exit and Kitty showed some signs of relaunching her verbal attack, but the Captain silenced her with a look as he swept her up the stairs. He kicked the bedroom door open and threw her on the bed, immediately setting about removing his clothing, staring darkly at her all the while.

"I don't know why, Kitty, but I had the absurd notion that saving your neck might have earned me some form of gratitude," he reproved, swishing his belt from its loops and throwing it on the floor.

"Oh, I am grateful, of course," she bickered crossly. "But...I thought you would...want to come straight up to see me..."

"Haven't I earned a drink? Good God, woman, I have taken three lives today so that yours may be spared. While you were snoring up here I was involved in deadly combat, both with my sword and my bare hands. But of course I shouldn't expect any thanks." He threw his shirt down and Kitty forgot what she had been about to say when she saw again the tightly muscled expanse of his chest with its pattern of scars, joined today by a couple of superficial bloody stripes.

"Should I?" he prompted menacingly, now almost completely naked.

"I love you," breathed Kitty. "I mean, thank you."

The Captain's face softened and he sat down beside her on the bed, pulling her into his arms again.

"Sweet Kitty," he crooned into her hair. "Sweet fiery Kitty. My only love."

She turned her face to his. "Is that the rum talking? Or do you mean it?"

"For pity's sake, Kit! The rum talking? How many times do I have to say this? I have nearly killed myself and killed three others to save you. I came for you. I...put you before my own interests. Is that not loving you?" The Captain's fingers were on Kitty's chin, pressing into the delicate flesh. She knew she had aroused his ire. But she just wanted to hear it.

"Tell me," she entreated. "Say the words."

"I'll be saying some words you don't want to hear if you don't stop this nonsense," he growled, but then he saw the shimmering look in her eyes and relented. "I love you, Kit. You're the woman for me."

She gave a little mewl of happiness and stroked his whiskers before throwing her arms around his neck. They fell into a long kiss of reunion, which soon enough transmuted into a long caress of reunion, which then flourished and blossomed and expanded and extended across and along their sighing, writhing bodies.

He clutched the neckline of Kitty's plain execution shift and ripped it open all the way to her ankles. "How have I lived without this?" he breathed lubriciously, confronted with her alabaster flesh, her soft mounds of breasts, the hidden recess between her milky thighs. He swept his hand up from her ankles, along the legs, over the hips to her breasts where he stopped to play, twiddling and stroking his old friends with relish before taking them into his ravenous mouth. Kitty's irregular breathing stoked his resolve, especially when she twined her little hands into his hair and pressed her lips to the sensitive area behind his ear. He moaned with need... "Oh, Kitty..."...and moved his hand down to test for wetness below. Finding it, his fingertips skated around on the surface of her outer petals, moving inward until her swollen inner bud met his touch. Kitty had become delirious with need; six months empty of her Captain's cock had been far too long and she hungered for it, spreading her legs and arching her back pleadingly.

"You need this, Kitty, don't you? You've missed me, I see."

"Oh yes," she vowed. "I have thought of you every night while I touched myself."

"Likewise," he murmured, readying himself for the big push forward by clambering between his mistress' knees and settling a pillow beneath her bum to improve the angle. "You're going to scream my name tonight, Kitty," he promised, and her shocked gasp on his swift and sudden advance into her tender parts made him chuckle effortfully as he impaled her on his broadsword.

"Oh, I FORGOT," cried Kitty, "I forgot how BIG it is."

He laughed. "Allow me to refresh your memory." She clung and clutched at his back as he began to slide in and out of the yielding depths, plunging down to the furthest reaches and holding himself there, rotating his hips to grind into her and spark the frictional flame that would lead to her completion. She lay and basked in the blissful sensation of his repossession, squirming sensuously beneath him and sucking at his neck in the way she knew he liked. His hands moved ceaselessly over her body as he laid stroke after stroke, sometimes fiddling with her nipples, sometimes caressing her belly, sometimes squeezing her bottom, sometimes teasing her clit so that she was never able to know where the next sensation was coming from.

He banged into her ever faster and harder, pushing her pliant body up the bed until there was no further it could go. She began to shiver and sigh, pulling at the Captain's hair, wailing, "Oh please, oh yes," and then he felt her walls quiver and he growled, "Say you are mine," and she said it, screamed it, sobbed it as he brought the tidal wave crashing over her and filled her brimful of his seed and they were back together, joined as one, Kitty and the Captain, for all time.

"Good girl," murmured the Captain to his glowing mistress as she lay slack-limbed and speechless in his strong arms. "My girl."

"Let us always be together," she said dreamily, kissing his cheek adoringly.

"Yes, let's," he agreed. "Shall we be married?"

She sat up, the whirling of her head taking a moment to still after the vigorous coupling she was still recovering from.

"Married? Be your wife?"

"That's what it entails, I believe."

"But who would marry us? We are not..."

He shrugged. "There are always bribable clergy. Perhaps in some Mediterranean port. What do you say?"

She laughed delightedly. "I will if you will."

"That's settled then. Kitty Prince." He pulled her back down and they sailed contentedly into sleep, to dream of becoming the Pirate King and Queen of the Barbary Coast.