The Captain's LadybyKatherine English 2©
By Katherine English and Captain Dee
* * * * *
I trembled…ever so slightly.
Sitting on the wet tiles, I watched Him labor between my thighs in the muted steam of the shower. His fingers were gentle… so gentle as they slipped between my "lips", stretching them outward as he passed the blade over my sex, erasing my auburn thatch and leaving my pink flesh bare before His gaze.
Had it been only five days since my fateful jump into the icy water…only five days? It seemed a lifetime. The old Katherine would never have done this…never even considered this…and yet there I was.
Slowly I pressed my back against the shower wall and allowed myself to drift with the sensation, replaying the torrent of images that whirled through my mind like visions in a dream.
I'd wanted to end it all that night, to take what little dignity remained in my life and preserve it in the frigid water beneath the bridge…but fate had other plans. Instead I'd been reborn…a metamorphosis…a miracle.
Life with the Captain was good.
I shivered with delicious anticipation as His fingers slid sensuously between my thighs. What would tonight bring, I wondered…what?
* * * * *
Five days before:
It was a relief to sit in the pub drowning my sorrows. At least the experiences of the last few weeks could temporarily be set aside, or could they?
Losing Kerilynn after all this time was just too much. She meant so much to me. We had learned to thoroughly enjoy one another’s company, and understood how to please each other. Still, Keri was one to wander a bit, so it was always hard.
What I really needed was someone who was mine. Mine to adore, mine to enjoy, mine to use. A man like myself desperately needed the sort of love that involved a complete giving. I needed to have my own, my very own woman.
One day I will find such a woman. I know they exist. My maid, Sarah, talks about them all the time. "Subs", she calls them. As her Master this woman would willingly want to cater to my every whim, to satisfy my every sexual desire. Wouldn’t that be something? But does such a woman really exist? I must keep looking. Sarah assures me she is there.
Time I headed back to the beach house. If I drink much more I’ll be in no fit state to drive.
The night is so quiet, misty, dark. It reminds me so much of nights back home in New Zealand. So few people around… you can hardly see more than a few feet ahead. The darkness reaches out to me, so lonely, so depressed. Still, the car’s not far, just across the bridge.
But, what’s that woman doing? Climbing onto the side of the bridge? "No! Hey! Stop that!" I call. I run as fast as I can, reaching out for her.
God no, she’s gone!
No time. I rip off my jacket and shoes and jump. It’s so dark…can't even see her, but she’s there. I swim around and around…there…there she is. I grab, pull her to me. She’s alive. She’s okay. I think she'll be all right. Thank God!
I swim with her to the shore and rest on the bank. Not a soul around. Funny, you would have thought someone would have noticed, but no, seems not. I'd better get her to a hospital, quickly. She is so cold. Not that I’m all that warm myself.
I carry her to the car and lay her on the back seat. Fortunately I have a throw rug and place it over her. I can't help noticing how young and attractive she is, so small… vulnerable…with her lovely, long red hair lying all wet beside her face and over her eyes. I use my hand to brush it back. Hell, even in this light she is so beautiful.
[Come on Dee, this is stupid. You need to get her to a hospital.]
The drive takes about thirty minutes, and all the time my judgement is playing ridiculous tricks with me. Could I take her back to the beach house? Could I just get to have one really good look at this beautiful woman in the light? Maybe I could look after her. Maybe…
[Stop it Dee.]
That’s stupid, or is it? After all she is moving around a bit. She's obviously not that bad, nothing that a hot chocolate Milo, warm shower and clothing wouldn’t fix. I could say I had no idea where to take her. She didn’t need a hospital. It would be pretty miserable hanging around a police station.
Yeah, why not?
I turn the heater up and make sure she's comfortable…she seems to be sleeping. Then, putting "The Captain" CD on, I play it quietly as I drive. Kasey Chambers, I love that singer, and the song…just perfect for me.
Even I'm feeling okay by now, wet clothes and all. Maybe this wonderful woman could be mine, at least for a while. The whole situation is full of intriguing possibilities. That’s me though, dreaming again.
It takes me about an hour to get to the beach cottage. Sarah was expecting me to be late, and has left the house well lit…but how can I explain my “visitor” in the morning?
I carry my "prize" inside. Light as a feather she is, and I can feel her softness against me even through our clothes. As I approach my bedroom she starts to disturb, but only slightly. Still unconscious I lay her on the bed. Oh God she looks something else! I suppose I could phone…get Sarah to help, but no. I don’t want her to know, at least not until I've had a chance to talk to my "prize" and learn something about her. Her name? I don’t even know her name.
This is going to be wonderful, I think, knowing that she needs her wet clothing removed. Should I or not? Buggar it, why not? She's my prize, after all…and it's the right thing to do.
Silently I remove her outer clothing, until I finally get her down to her underwear, and stand back to have a look. Words just can't describe the sight before me. Oh…how can I ever control myself?
[Shut up Dee, get on with it.]
The bra first. Her breasts are so firm, the nipples sticking straight out. Not aroused of course, just cold…but they looked aroused. The aureoles are so large, I feel as if I could suck them right into my mouth…enlarging them, making them humongous.
Panties…basic cotton panties, hiding everything. But what lies beneath? I'm longing to look. I slide them down, her little thatch of auburn pubic hair hiding a virtual paradise. If only I could see inside there...into that wonderful honey pot. I wonder how many men have been there? Maybe none. Maybe she'll be mine alone. What a dream, what a wonderful dream.
I can’t resist touching her. She lies so still. My hand runs down gently over her breast, brushing the tips of her nipples with my palm, on down her side.
[Be careful, Dee, she's disturbing.]
She seems fine though, but maybe groggy a bit, a little hazy. My hand brushes across her tummy. She turns slightly, her legs open involuntarily. You can see she is unconsciously enjoying my touch.
[I shouldn’t be doing this.]
Oh, why not? No one knows. I can’t resist the prospect of getting my finger in just a little, just enough to get some juice, to taste my prize.
Gently, I dip. Oops, she obviously enjoyed that, but then so did I. Mmmmm. So nice.
I must stop now. It's not fair. I’ll leave her to sleep it off. I’ll be ready for her when she wakes in the morning…
* * * * *
The raucous cry of gulls pierced the early morning light. Were there birds in heaven too, I wondered dimly remembering my early church-bound religious training, or had my desperate lunge from the bridge taken me to another place?
Confused, my eyes scanned my new surroundings for a sign, any sign that would give me the answer I so desperately needed…but to no avail. If this was indeed the "other place", then I'd been aiming in the wrong direction. For here, the light tranquility that I'd chased for a lifetime filled my soul in abundance…carried on the delicate breeze that sighed intimately through the French doors and caressed my skin like the lover that had forever filled my dreams.
But was I alone in this whimsical world of fact and fancy, or was it in fact populated by others, perhaps the one who held the "pink slip" on my newfound paradise? Quickly I threw back the covers, my feet finding the finely polished hardwood floors beneath them, the satin of the sheets sliding sensuously across my bare flesh.
I'd had clothing when I'd taken my ill chosen leap last night, of that I was sure. How had I come to wake naked, and in this place? Again my eyes sought answers in the dwindling shadows, until finally I turned and found a man, his body slumped uncomfortably in a nearby chair, his chin dark with morning stubble…sitting as though keeping guard over something too precious to allow out of his sight.
He was pale, this man, as though he too had found the evening before more of a trial than he'd planned. His long legs lay draped over the arm of the chair, his brown hair in wild disarray. This must be his house…his room I thought, guiltily taking in his obvious discomfort. It was his bed that I'd commandeered last night, while he tried to find some restless repose in the large, overstuffed leather chair on which he slept.
But my clothes…where were they…and who had…? And then a dim memory called to me from out of the fog. No…not a memory, more of an impression, a vague shadow on my memory of a voice…so soothing….and a touch in the twilight of my consciousness…caressing me, exploring my moist, intimate depths as I writhed in pleasure at the contact. Had that happened, I wondered…was it real?
Again the breeze from the sea beyond licked hungrily at my naked flesh, making me wish that I could forgo the conventions of clothing for the rest of my life…but of course, that couldn't be. Even someone homeless, a street person such as I'd become, was bound by convention to that meager extent.
Again I searched the room, this time seeking the soiled and sodden rags that had covered me the night before, but finding nothing. And so, with great reluctance, I wound the silken sheet about me, at once replacing the luxury of my sensuously unencumbered state with a soft kiss of delicate fabric that glided against my most intimate places as I crossed to the balcony.
It was beautiful here…so beautiful. It was a wonder that my eyes could be drawn anywhere else…but they were. Again and again I found myself stealing a glance beneath lowered lashes at my rescuer, for I was sure that was what he must be…sitting so nobly in the chair that he'd adopted so that I could fill his bed. Had he touched me, I wondered again…had he pressed his hand against my warm and willing flesh before retiring to his self-imposed leather-bound exile last night. Had he? The thought made my skin prickle…grow hot and goose-fleshed with the thought of a passion I'd never experienced.
If he had touched me…would he do so again? Would I want him to?
I shivered involuntarily, my knees quivering at the thought. Would I, in the full height of consciousness be able to feel the warm touch of his hand joining us once again…and more? Would the fanciful yearnings of my secret soul finally find a home?
Slowly I slid to the floor, my back against the wall, and studied this man who had given me back my life. I imagined myself kneeling at his feet in adoration… trust…submission, experiencing, wide-eyed the joys of passionate surrender that had only been a vague desire in the hellish life to which I'd become accustomed. We could live here…in Camelot…a dream world filled with erotic sensation. I could imagine his hands once again and forever discovering my secret passions, teaching me the ways of erotic love as we sailed through weeks and years on a sea of our own making. It would be wonderful…perfect.
I jumped! In my reverie I'd failed to notice that he was no longer asleep…no longer resting in his chair but was now standing over me offering me his hand.
"You don't have to sit on the floor," he smiled, His thumb lightly stroking my knuckles. "And even though that red silk seems to suit you, I'm sure I can find you something better for the moment."
He was a tall man, his voice soft, his accent…possibly from Australia or New Zealand, was like a gentle caress. His hazel eyes warmed the air between us as he took my hand and raised me off the floor.
Then, leading me like the child I felt I'd become, he guided me to a closet on the far side of the room, filled with the most delicate and feminine confections that I had ever beheld. It was a veritable treasure trove of light and swirling fabrics, exquisite embroidery, sheer and free-flowing in a fabulous mosaic that filled the tiny room.
"Take your pick," he offered, his eyes gently stroking my barely clad frame. "I think they should fit. She…was about your size, I think. And you'll find undergarments in the dresser. Help yourself…I'll be downstairs starting breakfast. Come down when you're ready and we'll talk."
And with that His eyes once again captured my own, touching me…so intimately before he turned and left me to my own devices.
The clothing was so wonderful…it was hard to choose what to pick, but finally I settled on a sheer muslin peasant blouse, it's daringly scooped neckline richly embroidered and held this side of scandal by a single golden cord. To this I added a swirling, ankle-length skirt of bleached muslin, cut on the bias…slit to show the curve of my right leg as I sat, and a pair of strappy leather sandals. Then I searched the dresser for suitable underwear. The panties I found were brief…cut high on the leg and formed of delicate wisps of peach satin and lace…more pieces of erotic art that garments to be sure. Though a little snug, I soon found a pair among many that suited my needs, but the bras were another matter. These, though equally beautiful, were far too small for my opulent bust line. Could I wear such a blouse, so low and transparent without undergarments I wondered. Did I dare?
Slowly I slipped the blouse over my head and gazed at myself in the mirror. Were those my nipples showing through the fabric…or just an illusion of embroidery? Was I bold enough to find out?
I swallowed hard, recalling the dreamlike encounter of the night before. Would he see my bare breasts through the thin veil of my blouse…my nipples enlarged…inviting Him to touch…caress…suckle…
I broke from my reverie. First, I had to bathe. I wouldn't wear such delicate wonders on my filthy body…it just wouldn't do. Quickly I found the adjoining bath and dropped my sheet to the floor, stepping with a sigh beneath the tingling spray of the large, luxuriously appointed shower. Everything I needed was there…shampoo, conditioner, and a profusion of scented soaps. I would want for nothing I thought as I gratefully began to lather my body, sliding my hands over my warm, slippery flesh. It was all here.
And the man with whom I wanted share the only thing I truly owned…myself.
* * * * *
So beautiful, so wonderfully beautiful. And when she comes down, dressed and groomed I must be careful to control myself. The last thing I want is to frighten her away.
But, could I? She seemed so at ease, so content. Perhaps the situation here has had her reconsidering her actions of last night. Certainly, she couldn't wish to be in a better place. Can you think of a nicer atmosphere to wake up in? The sounds of the sea breaking on the shore, the birds, the yachts in the distance beyond the wonderful white sand. The chiffon curtains billowing into the room on the breeze. The smell of the surf. I could stay here forever, easily. More easily if I had someone like her to stay with, to play with.
From the way she looked at me, almost longingly, I could have sworn she had only pleasant thoughts of me. This prize could really be a gift well worth the unwrapping. But why were there no questions? The room. The mirrors, the butt bench. She must surely have wondered about them. By now she has been in the closet and seen the Hellcats and crop hanging inside the door. She may even have found the "toys" in the chest of drawers. How am I going to explain all of that? But if they had worried her unduly, surely she would not have seemed so comfortable. Maybe, as Sarah often says, I worry too much.
I poke my head in the bedroom door, “Jump in the Jacuzzi while you're there, it'll make you feel nice. Hey what’s your name? I don’t even know your name. Did you say Kathy… Kathy? Oh, Katherine…that’s nice, a nice name. Breakfast will be about 15 minutes, so take your time.”
I was deliberately giving her plenty of time. If she did jump in the Jacuzzi and put the jets on she would be ready for anything by the time she came down.
Pancakes just the way I like them, thin, lightly browned. Crispy bacon, bananas, strawberries, freshly whipped cream, and that wonderful new maple syrup I had found. The coffee smells delicious brewing away. All I have to do now is squeeze the oranges. And, yes, some wine, a nice light white sparkling wine.
If it was evening we could have candles and create a really intimate atmosphere. I know, I’ll take it all upstairs and set it out on the balcony. It’s such a lovely morning. If only Sarah was here, she could help me. Never mind, this effort is going to be repaid a thousand-fold. I can feel it in my bones. The time is close to unwrapping my prize. A little chat and then…
* * * * *
How can this be? Last night I existed in the deepest, darkest pit of human torment, and here I've awakened this morning to a new life, with the man I've been waiting for since the beginning of time. I'm not alone any more. Somewhere, in the limitless cosmos, someone has finally noticed me… and smiled.
"Captain Dee", for that is the name I found printed on the stack of mail scattered so haphazardly on the dresser, has returned with the kind of breakfast that I could have only dreamed of a few short days ago… but it's more than that. He seems gentle, caring, nurturing in a way that I've forgotten existed. How long has it been since someone really cared about me? I can't remember. I've told myself that it doesn't matter so many times… built walls to keep away the hurt. But it does matter, even now. The Captain's closeness brings it all back tenfold. I need to be here, need to be with him…need him to save me from myself.
The meal looks incredible, set here on the balcony overlooking the blue Pacific, but it's the look in his eyes that carries me away. How I want to lose myself in his gaze...to feel his warmth enfold me, caress me…protect me from the world beyond.
Slowly he reaches out to me, his palm upturned, beckoning me to close the distance between us. I hesitate, a tiny revolution warring deep in my soul. So many men have approached me during my long days and nights on the streets, only to find me defensive and fleeing in terror…so many. My blood begins to race and I feel a warm flush creep steadily across my cheeks. Is it time…is it?
The Captain waits, his patience soft and enduring until finally, my heart overruling my head, I place my hand in his. I want this as much as he does. I want him to be the one I'll remember for the rest of my days as "my first". I want him to unveil the mysteries of passion and intimacy to me in the best possible way. In his smile. In his arms. In his bed.
And so, as he leads me back into the bedroom I follow willingly…joyously in fact, a yet untapped wellspring of arousal stirring in my belly. This is right, I know it, so very right.
Gently he raises the hem of my blouse, up and over my head, his eyes warming my flesh in the chill morning air. I swallow nervously, my hands protectively shielding my naked breasts, holding on to my last reserve.
He pauses, his thumb tenderly stroking my cheek as if to say "It's all right, Katherine. I won't hurt you. No one will ever hurt you again."
I believe him. He's given me his word. And so, lowering my lashes, I remove my hands from my breasts and slid my fingers beneath the waistband of my skirt. A brief tug, then the snap releases with a pop in the still morning air, and in a second I feel the soft material cascade around my ankles. Only the lacy confection that covers my sex now separates me from what is to come, and in a rush I want that too to be gone as well.