I search my memory for words, finding it remarkably vacant of anything relating to Mr Melville…
What did he say?
Ah… yes…
“He said that… when it came to our wedding night, I need not be afraid. That he would be gentle with me. Master, do we have to speak of him?”
My captain snorts a laugh. “No, we do not. But women do not need a man to be gentle. They need him to be thorough.”
Between my loins, something flows, liquid and warm. But in my head, anxiety stabs. “Master, are you… are you going to hurt me?”
He speaks quickly. “No, Josephine...” Then he kisses into the crook of my neck. “… Not this time at least...”
This time?
“… Later, we shall see how far that sense of adventure takes you. But for now…” His right hand abandons my heartbeat, gliding smoothly down. “… Give your body into my charge. I shall take care of you.” He flashes me a smile, bright and white. “I promise you are going to enjoy this.”
I am naked with a man…
My lover?
His palm presses against me, sliding over skin slick with perspiration. It rides down over my belly and further. Sensations scamper and scurry over my loins where fingers wind into the curls at my thighs.
“Captain…”
“Not captain…”
“Your pardon… Master…”
“That’s better, Now, Shhh… Stop worrying. Instead, immerse yourself in this new experience.”
His left arm wraps tightly around me. The right continues exploring towards my most private places. “Perfect…” he whispers. “Josephine, you are quite simply perfect.”
“How so, Master?”
“You are wonderfully wet.” His voice is right by my ear and his mouth settles onto the lobe, first sucking, then tugging softly with his teeth.
“Wet, Master?” It’s difficult to stand. His words sizzle through me, stabbing at my sex.
“You are a virgin, and yet I find you all but ready for me.”
Ready?
“Master, I don’t understand.”
“You will.”
He releases me. “Do you wish to undress me, Josephine? Or will you watch as I undress myself?”
Oh, sweet heavens…
“I… I should like to do it, Master, if you will allow.”
He slow-blinks, holds out his palms to either side, allowing me access to his body.
My hands are shaking as I fumble at the laces of his shirt. They slip from my fingers, then work themselves into a tight knot. Biting my lip, I raise eyes to my master’s face but he simply smiles down at me.
“Try again,” he murmurs.
I do so, and this time, the bow slips loose and the shirt falls open, revealing fair skin and that twist of dark hair I noticed the very first time I met him.
“You have not finished, madam. Do continue.”
I gulp and swallow. “I had not realised, sir, that it is for the woman to do this.”
He rocks his head, crinkling his nose. “Perhaps not for some, but for you, I think, yes.” He grins. “Also, I wish you to learn to obey me and to enjoy doing so.”
My own grin breaks loose and I touch fingers to my forehead. “Aye aye, sir.”
He pushes a finger under my chin once more, lifting my face to meet his. “The correct response is, ‘Yes, Master.’”
I suppress the grin, lowering my face. “Yes, Master.”
“Very good. You may continue.”
The shirt is open and loose at the top, so I tug it out from his breeches, easing the linen free. Then I lift at the hem, reaching up, but struggling. My master is taller than I. He crosses over hands, lifting the garment the rest of the way, up and over and off. It billows as it comes free, laving me with his scent.
I have never been so close to a man before, saving my father when I was small and, all too unwillingly, Mr Melville. My father was scented of lavender and mothballs. I believe Mr Melville used some cologne or soap. I am uncertain what it was, but it brought me to mind of clothes too long unlaundered. The thought of it makes my stomach turn uncertainly.
I shake myself free of the unwelcome memory, returning to the present and my current… wonderful… situation.
My master’s fragrance is of… of what? Some male musk. And beeswax. And the tang of the sea. It washes over me, intoxicating and heady. Inhaling deeply, I move closer, my hands on his shoulders, resting my forehead against his chest. Inhaling again, I take long, slow, deep breaths, wanting to take all of him inside of me.
Is this permitted?
But his hand curves into my cropped hair, stroking and caressing as I breathe in his perfume. “Josephine?”
Jolted from my reverie, “Your pardon, Master. I meant no offence.”
“And I took none. But perhaps you would like to continue your explorations? I think you are not overly familiar with the male anatomy?”
“Indeed, Master, I would.” I stand away a little, removing myself enough to see him clearly. Placing the fingers of one hand on his naked chest, I run them over soft, fine skin. Somehow, I had expected the skin to be harder. Men are harder… are they not?
But no, my master’s skin is smooth and yielding; supple over the firm flesh beneath. I find the hardness at the line of his collar bone, follow the graceful curve to the hollow at its base, then the firm verticals of tendons rising from the shoulders through the crook of the neck and up.
At his cheek, I waver…
To touch his face…
But he leans into my touch, kissing the fingers, then taking one into his mouth, biting gently.
Bolder now, I lower my attention.
His chest is scattered with a sprinkling of hair; it centres down his breastbone, glossy and dark, spreading outwards over the curve of sleek muscles toward his shoulders. Then downward, it tightens into a fine line, leading towards his navel and beyond, before vanishing below the buttons of his breeches.
And below that…
Clearly outlined against his breeches, pressing outwards, the thickness of his… manhood…
I want to touch… To caress. My fingers make to move, but I snatch them back.
He smiles slightly. “Feel free to touch me, Josephine, however you wish. I would like you to do so, and I believe you will enjoy it. In any case, I wish you to continue removing my clothing.”
His breeches…
I grope at a button. It is obstinate, refusing to work loose. I try again, intent on slipping it from its fastening…
How can this be so difficult?
My captain takes my hand, lifts it to his mouth and kisses the fingers again. “Perhaps you would like some more wine?”
“I believe I would, Master, yes.”
He recovers my glass, pressing it into my hand. “Drink it. All of it.”
I sip the wine, then on an impulse, gulp it down, draining the goblet.
“That’s better.” He refills the glass.
I protest… “Sir… Master…”
“A little more. I think perhaps I have pressed you too far, too fast. Let us have you relaxed for what comes next.”
“Next?”
He takes my hand, raising it, complete with glass, to my lips. “Drink the wine.”
In truth, I am a little heady already, but I obey him, draining the glass in three or four swallows.
“Good girl.” He takes the goblet from me, placing it aside. The light is fading, and he moves around the cabin, lighting candles which glimmer and shimmer with a golden light.
Returning to me, he leans in, his mouth hovering close to mine. In the candlelight, his face is a sculpture of light and shade, his eyes lambent, the line of his lips distinct and well-formed.
Clasping the back of my head, he opens his mouth over mine, forcing my jaws wide with his. The tip of his tongue explores my own, then traces a line over my teeth before, withdrawing slightly, he bites my lower tip, tugging gently before releasing me. “Ready for more, Josephine?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Good.” And with that, he sweeps hands under shoulders and knees, lifts me and without ceremony, deposits me on the narrow bed.
I am naked, on a man’s bed…
My lover’s bed…
Seating himself by me, my master traces the line of my face with the pads of his fingers, then smooths down over my breasts and stomach. I lie, quivering and twitching. I want to melt into this man, to give myself in whatever manner he asks of me.
His hand falls to the curls at my loins; fingers winding in, plucking and teasing. Then further they move, slipping between and down and in, rubbing at… at what?
Pleasure spears through me; a sizzling sparkle which seems both a part of and separate from my desire for this man.
Between gasps, I splutter words. “What…? What is that?”
He moves closer, one arm curving around me as the other moves between my legs. “That my sweet, is what some have called the Amor Veneris. Think of it as the centre of your pleasure. That part of you which I can play like a fine instrument to produce wonderful music.”
His lips slightly parted, he continues teasing my flesh. His gaze shifts between my own and down to where his busy fingers work. At the corners of his eyes, the smile folds out, soft fine lines, pale against his sea-tan as he takes obvious satisfaction in my growing delight.
“Master?”
“Yes, Josephine?”
“I thought that you would… would enter me with your…”
“Oh, I will, madam. Have no fear. You will have received a proper tupping before I’m done with you. But I wish first for you to be completely ready for me. Then, when I enter you, it will be a pleasure for both of us.”
Anxiety gnaws inside me. “They say that it hurts, that there is pain the first time.”
His eyes flash to mine. “Perhaps, but it will be brief...” He kisses me, cupping my cheek with his free hand. “… As brief as I know how to make it for you. And perhaps not at all.”
He shifts to lie beside me; not easy on the narrow bed, but his fingers continue to work their magic. His body is hot against mine, the hardness of his swollen manhood pressing through his breeches against my thigh.
My flesh is somehow fluid under his touch, pulsing and heated. His face rests on the pillow, very close as he whispers to me. “You may find some of what I ask of you strange. Not just today, but as we go forward…”
I am shaking and panting, my body heaving beside his as he speaks…
“… Some of it may make you afraid, at least to begin with. But give yourself to the experience. Give yourself to me, and I promise you, you will never have encountered anything like it in your previous life. Those of limited minds and narrow outlook, who believe there is only one way to live, they cannot know of such things. They will not have told you of them.”
All the while he speaks, the wicked-ecstatic fingers of one hand are working me. His other arm loops around my shoulders. “At first, I believed you to be simply wilful; spoiled and unwilling to appreciate the privileged life you were born into. I understand now that I was mistaken in that. You were not born to live in a cage, not even of the kind where the bars are the confines of your own mind. You were born for freedom, Josephine. For all the pleasures life can bring. And to enjoy everything the world can offer.”
My body is no longer under my control, quivering in his embrace as he whispers by my cheek, working his pulsing sorcery on my sex. I am on fire. The pulsing radiates outwards, singing through my veins, thrumming through my bones.
“I didn’t know… I didn’t…”
“Of course you didn’t. That is why I am showing you. And I will show you much more.”
Something inside me is spiralling, unwinding; a pressure, a tightness. My pelvis jerks and judders. My breathing accelerates and I am perspiring freely. A hot flow washes the tender skin of my inner thighs, soaking my captain’s fingers. His embrace tightens, his fingernails digging into my arm as his lips press against my cheek.
Something I have no words for radiates from my core, a shuddering and heaving. It wells and grows, throbbing through my thighs and my belly…
It takes me; sheer pleasure, bursting through my flesh in rhapsodic spasms. Pressing my head back against the pillow, blind to aught but my own internal world, I fling my mouth wide, wailing and crying. My hands scrabble and clutch, trying all of themselves to prevent my falling over the edge of the world…
And it fades. The heaving of my lungs slows. The pulsing in muscle and bone eases and I return to the world.
Blinking, I realise my eyes were squeezed closed. I open them again to my captain’s softly smiling face. “Master?”
“I believe you enjoyed that?”
Still breathing heavily, “I think enjoy is too weak a word.”
His lips curve and he rolls to sit upright, tugging off his boots. Then, rising, he stands over me. I watch, mesmerised, as he, very slowly, very deliberately, unfastens the buttons of his fall-front, then steps out from his breeches.
And now, he is naked too, all of him unclothed; lean-limbed, broad-chested, tight-waisted. His hair, so dark, is backlit by the candles to a golden aura about his face. Draped loosely around his shoulders, it swings a little with his movement.
He is magnificent.
And yet, my gaze is drawn to… his male member.
It springs from a curling nest of dark hair, standing upright against the flatness of his belly, vibrating to the same rhythm as my own heartbeat.
And that smile…
That wicked, dark-eyed smile…
And the very devil lurking behind his eyes…
But all trace of my anxiety or fear has fled. After the rapturous experience this man just gave me, I am happy to accommodate anything he suggests.
He resumes his place alongside me, stroking my body; the fullness of my breasts, the curve of my belly. Then, his hand leaves me, and he moves again, now to lie over me. “Josephine, open your legs more widely.”
I do so, lying flat-backed on the blankets, my limbs parted, raised a little at the knees. He shifts, covering my body with his. And where his fingers probed before, his hard flesh now presses. I fear he might crush me under his weight, but he supports himself on his elbows, settling into the parted vee of my thighs.
He pushes in, easing forward and inside, stretching my flesh as he enters me. At my indrawn breath, he pauses. “Josephine?”
“I am well, Master. Quite well, I assure you. Please… continue…”
He presses in once more, slowly but surely filling me with his own hard flesh. “Is there pain?”
“No, Master. It feels… wonderful.”
His eyes soften and he brushes his lips over mine, then moves to cup under my shoulders with strong hands that both support me and hold me closer.
My captain moves; penetrating me, then withdrawing, before pressing into my depths once more. As he fills me, my flesh is ecstatic. As he leaves, the sensation is of an odd emptiness, a vacancy I had not known was there. I want to draw him back inside myself; deeper, harder.
How?
Slanting my body to match his, I angle my hips to… accommodate… him more easily.
There is a pleased edge to his voice. “Very good, Madam. A fast learner to be sure.”
“This is acceptable? I am unsure of the propriety of…”
Shaking with laughter, he drops his forehead to my chest. His voice is a little muffled. “I believe, Josephine, we are somewhat beyond propriety. You are lying in my bed in very much the state in which the Almighty delivered you into the world. And I am in much the same condition…”
Still laughing, he kisses first one breast, then the other. “And now, shall we continue?”
He moves more forcefully now; harder, faster, plunging deep within me. And I move with him, rocking together with him as he breathes more heavily. His fair skin is flushing red, beads of sweat dripping, splashing hot over me.
My master slams into me. And n
ow there is pain. But I want this pain. His body and mine colliding, he rams me inside and I gurgle my response.
Panting hard, he pauses. At the last moment, he leaves me, abandoning my body as, with a sound that is almost a growl, jerking and twitching, he pulses his creamy seed to lie pooled on my skin.
With a final shudder, he flings his head back, giving a shiver down his full length, like the quivering of a horse with a fly. Then he rolls away, flings himself down beside me and, kissing my forehead, pulls me into his embrace.
When I wake, it is still dark, but grey light lingers on the horizon, the harbinger of dawn.
On the narrow pallet we share, there is scarcely room for two. As it is, only just covered by our shared blanket, I lie in my captain's arms, his head pillowed against my breasts, listening to the creak of wood, the splash of water. Rocked by the slight movement of the ship, I am quite content to remain here.
The grey light shifts to silver, then rose. A sliver of brilliant gold kisses sky and sea. From beyond the door come sounds of movement; the clunk of boots on timber, the clatter of pans.
My captain stirs. His eyelids flutter then blink wide. Raising his head from my chest he makes a slow, easy smile. “Good morning, Josephine. You slept well?”
“I did, sir. And you?”
“Oh, yes. Very well.” He sits up, rubbing a hand against his neck, revolving his head, then he stretches, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.
He fixes eyes on me. “Are you well, Josephine? No regrets?”
“No, Master. I’ll admit to being a little surprised, but regrets… no.”
His brow furrows. “Surprised?”
“I had always been led to believe that whilst a woman should yearn for… the marital state… the act of union was rewarding for the man, but less so for the woman.”
He sniffs, scratching at his nose then reaching for his breeches. As he stands, pulling them on, “Yes, it is indeed commonly held that a young woman of good breeding should not enjoy the carnal act. However…” He casts a pained look to me… “… if she does not do so, it is distressing for her and difficult for him. I fail to see why the Almighty would arrange matters in such a manner. I choose to believe it more likely he intended both parties to enjoy the gift he bestowed.”
Pirates, Passion and Plunder Page 117
