by Frost, E J
“Yes, Master Niall,” I say brightly. I give Vashi a huge hug before I gather up my towel and tablet. “See you tomorrow.”
“Watch for the masala chai,” she whispers to me before Niall wraps his arm around her shoulders and escorts her away.
Shaan lingers for a moment to gather up Vashi’s towel and sunglasses. He winks at me as he leaves, and I skip back to my room.
Right on time, and naked, I knock on the connecting door.
“Sorry, Emmy, just a second.” I hear Logan’s footfalls, and then the door opens. He takes in my nakedness and a wolfy grin curves his mouth. “Who is this naked girl at my door?”
“Me, Daddy.” I put my hands behind my back and twist under his hot scrutiny, feeling wonderfully little and naughty.
“C’mon in, sweetheart. I can’t wait for you to see this.” He takes my hand and leads me through his suite to the couches in the living room. There’s a black folder on the coffee table between the couches, but otherwise the room’s so tidy the cleaners could have just come through. What has he been doing while I’ve been giggling with Vashi? It was certainly nothing involving ropes or chains.
He gestures to the couch and I sit. And shiver. It’s absolutely freezing in his cabin; the couch is right under a vent in the ceiling that’s blasting more cold air. I cross my arms over my chest and rub at the goose bumps.
“Oh, sorry, baby doll. It’s too cold in here, isn’t it? I’ve called the front desk. They’re sending someone to fix the thermostat after dinner.”
“I might be a popsicle by then, Daddy,” I say plaintively.
He chuckles. “I’ll get you something.”
He retrieves a fluffy white robe from the bathroom and drapes me in it. Then he sits next to me and opens the black folder.
Inside, there’s a single sheet of paper, covered in words and symbols. There’s a rough square in the center of the page, surrounded by wavy lines. Is that supposed to be water? Inside the square, there are small symbols: cliffs, mountains, an oval lake. The symbols are labeled. The Pillowy Mountains. Shipwreck Cove. Bathtub Lake. Pirate’s Lookout. Rum-un Cliffs.
There are three fancy Xs on the map, drawn with curlicues and shaded in. One in Rum-un Cliffs, one in the Pillowy Mountains, and one in Pirate’s Lookout.
“Is this a treasure map?” I ask, tracing my fingers over it. “Did you draw this? It’s so cool.”
He nods. “X marks the spot, see? You have an hour to find the three treasures and bring them back to me.”
A treasure hunt? He’s made a treasure hunt for me?
A naked treasure hunt?
“Pirate treasure?” I ask, blinking up at him.
“Uh-huh.”
I can play pirates. I have the perfect thing. “Daddy, please, can I have just a second? Well, maybe five seconds? Please? It won’t take long and I think you’ll like it. Please-please?”
It will keep me from freezing to death and is much more enticing than the frumpy robe.
He gives me a quizzical look before he sits back and shrugs. “Sure.”
I give him a peck on the cheek, then run back into my room. Throwing off the bathrobe, I root through my dresser drawers until I find a fairy tale nightie I bought at Macy’s for the cruise. I pull it on over my head, lifting my hair out of the wide, white satin neckline, and settling the ruffle off my shoulders. I draw on the matching thigh-high stockings, smoothing out the little ruffles at the top. The silk is lovely and cool on the sore skin of my thighs. There’s about an inch between the tops of the stockings and the bottom of the nightie. I hope Logan likes ruffles, because there are lots of them. I think he will. Ruffles are pirate-y.
I run back through Logan’s room and skid to a halt in front of him.
His dark eyes sweep over me and ignite. “Fuck me.”
I put my hands behind my back, so he gets the full effect of the ruffles, and the sexy stockings, and what the air conditioning’s doing to my nipples. “Arr, Daddy.”
He chuckles. “Arr, yourself, little pirate. Come here.” He holds his hands out. “Where did you get this outfit?”
I climb into his lap, straddling him and winding my arms around his neck. “Macy’s. It’s one of the nighties I bought that day I went to the mall.”
He runs his hands up and down the outsides of my thighs, plucking at the ruffles, before sliding under my nightie to cup my bare bottom. “You’re the sexiest little pirate I’ve ever seen.”
Looking up into those dark, burning eyes, I feel like the world’s sexiest pirate. Much sexier than Anne Bonny, or even Elizabeth Swann. They didn’t have a daddy to devour them with his eyes, the way Logan is right now, or to press his thick bulge up between their legs. I wiggle on it and thrill to Logan’s groan.
“Go find the treasure before I forget all about it and just take you to the captain’s quarters for a pirate ravishing.”
I’d be up for a ravishing, particularly if he’d nap with me afterwards since I’m kind of sleepy. But I can see how much effort he’s put into this game; I don’t want him to think I’m unappreciative or to be put off playing with me in the future. Wriggling, I reach back to grab the map off the table. I spread it on his chest so I can study it.
“I think I need a GPS, Captain Daddy. What’s a Rum-un?”
He squeezes my ass. “You are a rum-un, wild little girl.”
I giggle and contemplate the map some more. I turn it around. The labels are written sideways, so the map can be read from any angle. There’s no up or down. No point of reference. The X at Rum-un Cliffs keeps catching my eye. Rum-un. Rum-rum-rum. I turn my head and glance at the long, polished wood bar to the left of the couch we’re sitting on.
“Daddy, is there rum in the bar?”
“Go look.”
I give him a huge kiss and jump off his lap. The bar is a six-foot curve of dark wood, set with four stools that are bolted into the floor. No treasure hidden among the stools. I run around the far end. The back of the bar has a little sink, a rack that holds a dozen glasses, and the room’s mini-fridge.
I open the mini-fridge. There, between tiny bottles of rum and cans of Coke, winks a silver ace of spades.
A butt plug.
“Ooo.” I take it out, feeling the weight and coldness of it in my hands. I turn it around to admire the pink crystal in its base. Cradling it between my palms, I trot back to Logan.
He grins. “Clever baby.”
“Look what I found? Pirate booty. So shiny.”
“Pirate booty for your little booty?” Logan laughs. “This is Stanley, Morris’s big brother. I think you’re ready for him.”
The idea of an even bigger butt plug would have terrified me a few days ago. Now it just gives me a warm, shivery feeling. And a giggle that he’s named it Stanley. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Good girl. Kneel up on the couch.”
He’s going to put Stanley in me now? The glint in his eye says he definitely is, and I get to wear Stanley while I hunt the other two treasures. Oh, boy.
I pass Stanley to him and climb up onto the couch. Planting my forearms in the back cushion, I lean over so my butt sticks up.
Logan runs his hand down my back, smoothing the silk over my skin, then back up to lift the ruffle and bare my bottom. He toys with me: squeezing my cheeks, brushing his fingertips over the cane stripes on the backs of my thighs, while he pulls on a latex glove and drizzles lube down my crack. A kiss of ice on my labia makes me flinch and whimper. Cold, cold, cold. But the plug warms as he rubs it up and down my slit. It feels so different from Morris. Stanley’s cool and super-slick as Logan dips it inside me, working it in and out, fucking me with it. “Daddy, Daddy.”
“How’s that feel?”
“Chilly but good.” I wiggle a little as he continues to work the plug in me.
“The high seas can be chilly, pirate baby,” he tells me in a serious tone, which makes me giggle. “Let’s see how it feels in your bottom.”
I flex my hips and arch my back to tip my ass u
p as much as possible. It feels best going in that way and I don’t want him to struggle inserting it. He rewards me with more swirling touches over my butt, before he draws the plug out of my pussy and rubs the wet tip over my sphincter. I bear down and he pushes it in. I register the difference immediately. It’s wider and burns going in, but the coldness of the metal counters the burn, making me shiver and whimper at the conflicting sensations. Once it’s in, he tugs a little to make sure it’s seated and my ass contracts around it uncontrollably, sensation zinging up my spine, heat spreading through my belly. I moan and grind my forehead into the back of the couch. I have a feeling he won’t let me come until I’ve found the other two treasures, but I’m so, so ready. Somewhere in the back of my mind I recognize I’ve already had five orgasms today and that should be more than enough for even the horniest little pirate, but nothing under my ruffles recognizes that logic.
“How do you like Stanley, baby?”
“Zingy, Daddy.”
“Zingy?”
“Stanley burns going in, but he’s cold, too. It’s like fire and ice in my bottom.”
Logan chuckles. “Ah, zingy.”
“Should I look for the second treasure now?”
“Uh-huh. Let me help you up.”
He does, which is good because Stanley’s heavier than Morris, too, and there’s a moment where I wobble. Logan keeps me steady. I wrap my arms around him and give him a huge hug.
“Thank you for Stanley, Daddy, and the treasure hunt. This is so cool.”
He kisses me on the forehead. “You’re very welcome, angel baby.”
I retrieve the map, and he pulls me into his lap so I can use him as a desk again. I study the map, turning it around, trying to find a point of reference. There are Xes in the Pillowy Mountains and Pirate’s Lookout, too.
I glance around the room. Pillowy Mountains. There are lots of pillows in Logan’s cabin. On the couch. One on each chair. On the bed.
The X in the Pillowy Mountains has a little dotted trail leading up to it from the Upside-Down Heights. What’s upside-down in Logan’s room? I look around but don’t see anything out of place.
Glancing at his bed, I’m reminded of yesterday morning when we boarded—goodness, that feels so long ago now—Logan fucked me with my head hanging off the edge of the bed. Amazing head-rush. Amazing, upside-down orgasm.
I smack another kiss across Logan’s mouth before I climb off him and hobble like a bow-legged sailor to the bed. I bet Anne Bonny never had to run around with a boulder in her butt. I hear Logan chuckle behind me. I probably look ridiculous, but I don’t care. If he wants me to treasure hunt with Stanley in my butt, I will. Particularly if there’s a ravishment waiting for me at the end.
At the bottom of the bed, I stop and look at the map again. A dotted line leads up to the pillows. There aren’t any other dotted lines on the map.
I climb up onto the bed, stick my ass in the air, and crawl on my hands and knees up towards the pillows.
“Fuck, yes,” Logan breathes behind me. Close behind me. He’s followed me from the couch.
Because I’m crawling, I feel it, under my palms, through the comforter and sheet: a ridge that runs up the bed. When I reach the pillows, I pull them aside.
Underneath the pillows lies a small, oval control pad. I pull it out. The chains it’s attached to slide up from under the covers. Three, long, thin chains that end in metal clamps. I shiver. The rubber clamps he used on me this morning were bad enough, but metal? With teeth? Eek.
I turn and crawl back to where Logan’s standing at the bottom of the bed, watching me with those savage eyes. For a moment, I want to protest. Metal clamps! Who in their right mind wants metal clamps on their tender parts? But I lost my mind to him days ago, and, as much as the idea of metal clamps scares me, the idea of Logan putting them on me excites me way, way more. I hand him the treasure silently, lie back on the bed and lift my nightgown, baring all those tender parts for him to torment.
I can barely breathe, I’m so excited.
“What do you think these are, little pirate?” he asks, as he leans over me, opening one of the clamps in his fingers.
“Zappy clamps,” I whisper. I haven’t done electrical stimulation play before, although I’ve watched it. Matthew had a pacemaker, so electrical play wasn’t safe for him, and none of my other Doms have used it on me.
Until Logan, who clearly loves toys and seems committed to trying all of them on me.
“That’s right. Zappy clamps for a pirate baby who needs to be tortured until she spills all her little pirate secrets to her captain.”
“Arr, Captain Daddy.” I wiggle madly on the bed, trying to hold myself still for the clamp and failing because I’m too excited. Logan grins and puts his free hand flat on my chest, between my breasts, flicking one nipple with his thumb. Holding me down and arousing me all in one motion. That’s so Logan. He bends over further and captures my mouth, licking along my lips, sliding his tongue in to lap against mine while he closes the first clamp on my stiffened nipple.
I howl into his mouth. Metal bites into my flesh. Lordy, they’re like megalodon teeth. Each tooth feels a thousand times larger than it could possibly be. Instead of easing off after a second, the pain intensifies. It feels like the megalodon is chewing on my nipple. I grab the back of Logan’s neck to hold myself still and pant against his mouth. “Please, Captain Daddy, no. That’s so owie.”
“Are you begging for mercy, scallywag?” he asks against my lips.
“Yes, parlay, white flag, whatever, ow, arr, that hurts so much.”
He chuckles and releases the clamp, which nips in and holds, but the pain is bearable. He keeps kissing me while he sets the second clamp, then leans back and inspects me, that wolfy gaze licking over my skin.
“What a gorgeous little thing you are, Emmy.” He reaches up and takes a curl of my hair between his fingers and runs it down along my cheek. “This hair. I love how dark it is against your skin.” He tickles my nose, my throat, my captured nipple with the fluffy end of my curl and I melt, despite the discomfort of the metal in me at both ends. “These little freckles. I want to kiss each one.”
“That would be a lot of kisses,” I say, looking up at him and melting even more. I’m going to be nothing but a puddle of ruffles in a minute.
“It would, but not nearly enough. I want to cover you with kisses. And suck marks and bites. I want to mark every inch of this beautiful skin. Make sure everyone who sees you knows you’re mine.” He reaches down and rubs his thumb gently up and down my thigh, fingering the caning marks through my stocking. “Do you know how much it turns me on to see my marks on you, sweet girl?”
“No, Daddy. How much?”
He flashes me his wolfy grin. “This much.”
He reaches up to where he’s set the control pad for the clamps and taps it.
Lightning strikes in my nipples, sizzles through my breasts. I arch my back against the sharp pain, then gasp as it ebbs to a sparking heat that keeps running along my nerves, even after the first hit fades. “Daddy, Daddy!”
He chuckles. “Like that, little pirate?”
I’m not sure if I like it, but the heat’s undeniable. “Hot, Daddy. Hot-hot-hot.”
Logan lowers his head between my breasts and mouths my skin, laughing. “You’re hot-hot-hot, baby doll.”
“You, Daddy,” I manage.
“Nope, this is all you, you crazy baby. Ready for the clit clamp?”
“No?”
He chuckles. “Too bad, brace yourself.”
I dig my fingers into the bedspread and spread my knees, submitting, even though I have a pretty good idea of how this is going to feel.
I’m not wrong. It feels like a pit bull has latched onto my clit. Pinching and burning and shooting heat up into my belly. When the lightning strikes, I scream, jolting up into Logan’s arms. He holds me while the aftershocks race through me, while I thrash and pant. He watches me with those fathomless eyes, holding me and
stroking me, his palms slipping over my sweat-slicked skin. He kisses my cheek and my ear, whispering to me, “Oh, baby doll, that’s so beautiful. You choosing to take the pain for me. It’s the most beautiful thing in the world.”
I wrap my arms around his neck. “Daddy.”
“Find me that last treasure, baby. I want to reward you.”
“Yes, Daddy.” He helps me up and I stagger around for a moment until I remember where I left the map. While I study it, Logan gives me little zaps that have me squealing and wriggling in his arms. When I complain that I can’t concentrate with him zapping me, he relents and tucks the control pad into the top of my stocking. He wraps his arms back around me and I relax into him. He’s so big and warm that it’s like getting a hug from the world’s biggest teddy bear.
There are two sets of Pillowy Mountains on the map. Only one set has an X in it, but the presence of two seems significant as I turn the map this way and that, trying to figure out where Pirate’s Lookout might be.
I turn the map so the first Pillowy Mountains are ahead of me as I look at Logan’s bed. The second set is just beyond Ye Shall Not Pass. Is he making a pirate-y pun on Lord of the Rings? I think he is. It makes me giggle and wonder if there are any Hobbit-y games we could play. Being ravished by Gandalf sounds kind of creepy, but I could definitely go for being whipped by the Balrog.
I lift my head and look through the connecting door into my room. I can see the edge of my bed through the open doorway.
I start to dash through the doorway but remember after the first step that I’m plugged with a freaking boulder and settle into a bow-legged swagger that has Logan chuckling behind me.
Through Ye Shall Not Pass and into my room, I stop with the Pillowy Mountains in front of me. I turn my head to the left, where Pirate’s Lookout is on the map.
The balcony.
With a triumphant whoop, I totter out to the balcony as fast as Stanley will let me. Who invented weighted, metal butt plugs anyway? They have a lot to answer for.
On the balcony, there’s a small table and two lounge chairs. A rolled-up, pink towel is tucked between the cushion and frame of one of the chairs. I retrieve the towel and unwind it from around something hard and plastic.
