Stowaway...

[poohlive]

"You are a very nice woman," And she was. She truly was. A kindness in her voice and manner, in her actions and eyes that made him realize just what kind of person he was. She had been sheltered all her life from the evil in people, the ruthless conniving that is in the darkened pits of all hearts. In his own, even.

Nothing could bring back his wife, and his children. He had made his own bed, figuratively, and would lie in it forever.

He moved his head, his body crumbling along the bed, turning to his side. His head rested on her thigh, resting oh so comfortably there. It felt good, to have such warmth under him, such weight. He didn't know he had missed it so much, until he felt it there.

But, only a moment. He sat up, next to her, getting out of the bed.

"There are things for you to do still. Let's see if we can put that sewing to good use."

He opened the door for her, coming back out onto the deck once more. One of the main sails had been lowered to the deck. It stood in a mass of folds lying down the center.

"The reason it is taking us several days intsead of several hours to get to our destination is this sail. There is a long rip inside of it. It is tough fabric, and a bitch to work. My crew mostly makes it worse instead of better."

Indeed, the few feet they had sewn together appeared like devilish patchwork, that would unravel at the first hint of wind.

"Can you fix it?"

 

[Britwitch]

"You are a very nice woman,"
"Thank you..." Niamh found her voice came out far quieter than she had expected. It was hardly the most eloquent compliment she had ever recieved, having had sonnets and songs recited to her by princes and earls in the past, but it almost meant more than the showy displays of forced romance she had experienced before. It felt as if he meant was he was saying and that fact alone made his words all the more powerful.

Before she could say anything further, the Captain moved. Shifting and turning, bringing himself closer. Suddenly his head was upon her thigh and Niamh's heart actually skipped a beat. It was a more intimate, more private touch than even the groping hands had been upon the deck. She wasn't certain what to do. An almost overwhelming urge to run her fingers through the dark waves of hair now resting against her lap rose up sharply within her, causing her to tense and bit her lower lip slightly.

She knew she should demand that he remove himself from upon her but she couldn't bring herself to do so. The action was not lusty in it's motivation, of that she was certain. Given the subjects they had been discussing, Niamh was convinced it was done in search of comfort. Within a few moments he sat up, moving away and standing, leaving Niamh feeling more than a little confused about what had just happened and how she felt about it.

"There are things for you to do still. Let's see if we can put that sewing to good use."
Niamh stood, adjusting the white blouse for what felt like the hundredth time before following him out onto the deck. Sighing slightly as the brisk sea air tingled against her face, lifting her curls back and causing them to dance behind her as she walked, shimmering in the sunlight. Her eyes widened slightly at the mass of stiff cloth laying upon the deck.
"The reason it is taking us several days intsead of several hours to get to our destination is this sail. There is a long rip inside of it. It is tough fabric, and a bitch to work. My crew mostly makes it worse instead of better."

Niamh frowned, moving to kneel beside the sail, feeling the toughness of the fabric between her fingers, eyeing the attempts of the crew to mend the tear with something akin to sorrow. The stitches were haphazard and seemed to consist amost entirely of knots.
"Can you fix it?"
Niamh's tongue ran over her lips as her eyes ran the length of the sizable tear once more before turning to look up at the Captain over her shoulder.
"It might not be ready by nightfall today but I think I can fix it..." She smiled slightly, certain that the years of tutoring she had had about the correct use of a needle would allow her to mend the tear so well that she was convinced the Captain wouldn't be able to find it once she'd finished.

"I'll need to undo most of this to begin with though...do you have something I can use to cut the threads...?" She asked tentatively, returning her focus to the sail, her fingers pulling at the heavy handed work that the crew had done.
Soon she was sat beside the rail of the ship, the sail draped over her lap and her focus entirely upon the needle moving steadily back and forth through the heavy fabric. The stitches were minute, barely visibly, but each one was made of the strong thread one of the crew had provided and Niamh was certain the stitches would hold in even the strongest winds.

She was leant forwards slightly at the waist, unaware that the clothes and position allowed any passing member of the crew a generous glance at her cleavage, not that she noticed the whispered comments of some who had positioned themselve so that they had an almost constant view of her figure. With her head tipped slightly to the side, her hair cascaded down over one shoulder, revealing the other and a good portion of her neck. However Niamh was so focused on the task at hand that for a little while at least, she almost forgot where she was. The fresh air and warm sun combining to make the job almost pleasant.

 

[poohlive]

The Captain preoccupied his own time aboard the ship. At barely half sail the ship needed to be handled very carefully to get it going anywhere. Too much sail from one of the smaller pieces of canvas and it would rip just as easily as the main. Not enough and they were just flapping in the wind, as useless as legs on a fish.

He kept at the wheel, navigating, adjusting, bringing sail up, and then down again whenever the wind changed.

The crew mostly got to stare, those lucky enough to be on duty aboard deck. Jason, the learned one of most, did a little more than stare. He came up and plopped himself right down upon the deck, the best view of her own wares on display.

"I'm sorry for what happened," He spoke, helping her with the sail. This didn't leave him to do much more than unfurl the sail and keep it seperate for her to work on the rip more easily. He fed it to her, his eyes running from to her full lips down to such perfect round breasts.

"It doesn't have to be forced, you know? If you just lay with one guy, he could protect you from all the others. I can keep them off of you, keep them from even staring at you like they are. Just come sleep with me. Come to my bed, princess."

 

[Britwitch]

Niamh jumped slightly as a voice cut through her concentration. She glanced up to see the slightly gangly crew member, Jason, sat beside her, his hands straightening the sail as she worked her way along the tear.
"I'm sorry for what happened,"
"It wasn't you fault..." She smiled slightly before returning her attention to her sewing, frowning slightly as her eyes focused on the tiny stitches she was leaving in the wake of the needle.

"It doesn't have to be forced, you know?"
"Sorry...?" Niamh murmured, pausing to rethread the needle.
"If you just lay with one guy, he could protect you from all the others."
"What?!" She yelped as the needle pricked her finger, her eyes wide as they glanced at the young man beside her. "W-what did you say...?"
"I can keep them off of you, keep them from even staring at you like they are."
Niamh glanced up tentatively, flushing as several pairs of eyes were averted a moment too late.
"That's very noble of you but..." Niamh began, her voice trembling slightly.
"Just come sleep with me. Come to my bed, princess."

"How dare you...?!" Niamh's eyes narrowed, her hand dropping the needle and moving to slap him across the cheek, the sound ringing out across the deck. "Now, leave me alone, please...before I..."
She wasn't allowed to finish. The slap to her cheek was sharp and unexpected, the back of his hand connecting with her skin with a blistering sound. Her eyes watered and she found herself thrown backwards against the rail. Jason's face a picture of anger, edged with embarassment as he leant closer.
"That was a mistake, princess..." He almost growled, moving closer while Niamh swiftly found she had no where to go and wasn't certain that he wasn't correct. Her eyes widening as Jason's hands reached towards her flesh.

 

[poohlive]

Wesley had two or three of the crew assisting him. They stood by the front railing, helping him out whenever possible. But, they made sure that when they weren't needed, they were standing right between Wesley's view, and the lower deck below them.

Jason had made sure of this. Aside from the sounds, which the wind in the sails cut off, Wesley wouldn't be able to see.

"I told you not to fight," He winced through gritted teeth, as he pushed himself up onto her. Against the rail she was pinned now. He felt her struggle, her weakness pinning itself.

"I know who you are, and I know you don't want to die," He held the knife up to her face. It seemed to come from nowhere, all of a sudden kissing against her cheek.

"You stay still, you don't make a sound, and you let me do what I need to do, and I won't ruin that pretty little face of yours, you understand?"

His other hand, which had grabbed her steady, now reached down to unbuckle his pants. He could already feel himself growing her, pressed up against her, his cock throbbing against her thigh.

 

[Britwitch]

"I told you not to fight,"
"I demand that you take your hands off of me this instant...!" Niamh's voice was trembling but her tone was one of undeniable fury. Her words fading into a groan as she felt herself being thrust back, pinned against the side of the ship.
"I know who you are, and I know you don't want to die,"
The cool, worrying touch of the blade against her cheek stilled her struggles slightly, causing her to pause. Her keen eyes sweeping the deck, failing to find a friendly face within sight, most of the crew were merely sat watching wearing expressions of intrigue, and perhaps jealousy that another had gotten hold of her first.

In her lap, in amongst the thread and the sail was a knife. It was small but sharp, it had been given to her to cut the thread and trim the edges of the sail where necessary. It was hardly lethal but if she could get hold of it without Jason spotting it, it might give her enough of the element of surprise to get him off of her.
"You stay still, you don't make a sound, and you let me do what I need to do, and I won't ruin that pretty little face of yours, you understand?"
Niamh nodded, her face paling and eyes wide, within the confines of the bodice and blouse she was breathing hard as panic fought to take over.

She watched his hand snake down to his trousers, fumbling with the buckle in his hurry to open them. Her own hands began to move. Inching across her lap towards the blade. Jason's attention seemed to be focused upon her now barely concealed bust, thanks to their brief struggle, and his own arousal which was clearly evident given the firm bulge of flesh currently pressing worringly against Niamh's thigh.

Her searching fingertips found the smooth metal within the folds of the sail and curled around the handle. The other hand moving to take hold of the edge of the sail. She would only have time to try this once and she could only pray that it would work. As Jason began to push down his pants to reveal the already throbbing flesh beneath it, Niamh sprung into action. The hand with the knife jerked upwards, her elbow connecting with his groin and sending him stumbling back a pace or two. As he did so, she flung her other hand skyway, sending the sail through the air to land over his head.

Niamh scrambled into the middle of the deck, the short knife in one hand as Jason fought his way out of the sail, cursing loudly. When at last he emerged his face was a picture of rage and he advanced towards her swiftly. The princess' arm arced through the air, the tip of the blade catching his cheek in the process. The resulting wound across his cheekbone was largely superficial but it began to bleed almost instantly.

Jason pressed a hand to the cut, looking at the red stains to it with disbelief as he took it away.
"You will pay for that, I promise you that, princess..." Jason growled, walking purposefully towards her.

Niamh's arm moved again, but this time her action stopped him dead. The knife was now pressed against flesh. Her own. She was holding the knife against her own throat.
"Come on now...let's not be silly..." Jason attempted to cajole her into complying but Niamh's eyes only narrowed.
"You know as well as I how much I am worth to the Captain...I swear if you step any closer you'll find yourself in even more trouble than I was when I was discovered below...I believe you will be the one who will pay, not I...!"

All the while, Niamh slowly edged backwards, heading towards the steps leading up to the upper deck and the Captain. The blade never leaving her throat for a second as she kept her eyes fixed on Jason and the blood dripping down his face. As soon as she believed herself to be within earshot she yelled at the top of her voice. "Captain! Captain Acker help! Help, please!"

 

[poohlive]

"Princess?" He gave a cautious look as he watched her walking up backwards to the upper deck. She appeared to be holding her own neck. He looked down to the sail, where she should be, watching a group of his own crew, and a few droplets of blood.

He walked over to her, grabbing her, twisting her around so he could see. Instead of seeing her with a cut or bruise, he simply saw her with a knife to her throat.

"Princess," He grabbed for the knife, taking it away from her. Turning, he saw Jason at the bottom of the stairs, bleeding.

"What happened?"

"Just a little mistake, that's all Captain," Jason said, smiling away his little cut, "I tried to help her with the sail and I cut myself. Accidentally. No big deal. I think she saw the blood and panicked, princess and all. Probably never even seen blood before."

Some of the crew looked worried, others were trying to go about their business as if nothing happened. A few even disappeared below deck.

He turned back around, holding Niamh in his arms protectively. His eyes searching everywhere for a cut, a bruise, anything. Except for her showing a bit more cleavage than usual, he saw nothing though.

"Is that what happened? You called for my help?"

Behind him, Jason had taken the last of the steps, and he stood over Wesley, a hard face looking right at Niamh. He held the knife, and could easily slip it into Wesley's back if he wanted. He made sure Niamh knew this, raising the knife up, motioning it up and down.

"Yes, tell the captain the truth now," Jason said, from behind Wesley. Wes just looked at the princess in fear, trying to see if her beautiful eyes held anything but fear.

 

[poohlive]

At first Wesley was not sure what Niamh was doing. He could feel her moving him, guiding him almost as if in a dance. He felt her push closer, her hands coming to grasp against the fold in his shirt. He looked down at her, at that, those warm fingers playing, tingling his chest. His wife used to do that, she would do that whenever she wanted something.

She touched him just like that when she told him he was pregnant.

He smiled, lost in a faint memory when he heard her words whispered in his ear. For a moment he had to close his eyes, her voice so much like Melinda's. He just closed his eyes, lost in the moment, in his wife's memory. He wrapped his arms around her, breathing in her scent, pushing Melinda through Niamh's body.

But the word clicked in his mind, and he pulled back, only to look at Jason's trousers. They were undone, his now flaccid penis laying limply out of them.

"Jason..." He pushed Niamh aside, grabbing for his sword. Jason, looking down, tucked himself in, as he spoke harsh words.

"You want to talk with me, Captain. In private."

A sword was in Wesley's hand before the eye could see it. He rushed forward to the lower deck, as Jason moved back, defensively. All he had was a knife, but he quickly dropped it, showing there was no weapon, no threat.

"I want her. I want her as my own."

He shook his head, the sword being drawn up, "No deal."

"I'll take her, as half payment. You only need to pay my father half of what is in the hold. She is worth the rest."

Wesley stopped. He looked deadly. Fierce and deadly. He had turned from a drunken excuse for a pirate into a full fledged warrior in mere seconds. Eyes were flaring, his nose hot from drawing in extra breath.

"The deal was just money."

"All you had was money, Captain. Until today, you have a princess, now. New terms. You said so yourself, you wanted money to retire. Half of what is in this ship should be more than enough."

Wesley paused, lowering the sword. Hating himself for lowering the sword. Melinda. Melinda wouldn't have done this. He turned back, looking at Niamh on the upper deck, so close to the wheel.

"She's not part of the bargain."

Jason walked up behind the captain, hissing in his ear, low enough so Niamh couldn't hear.

"I know what you're doing. I heard you in there with her. You lied. You're not taking her to find others to help. You're going to give her right to the Braviens. Just as I would do. Give her to me. Let her go."

It took Wesley a long time before he shook his head, the weight of the world, of her world on his shoulders.

"I'll tell her. Give her to me, or I'll let her know just what kind of a savior she is..."

Wes walked away from Jason. He stepped up into the upper deck, not looking at Niamh, not looking at anything. He went right back to the wheel, staring at the open sea in front of him.

"You have work to do," He said, rather harshly, not bothering to look at Niamh, "I want that sail, and I want it now."

Another compromise, another piece of him being cut down, torn apart. Was there no right answer? Nothing he could do and still find strength to wake up in the morning?

 

[poohlive]

At first Wesley was not sure what Niamh was doing. He could feel her moving him, guiding him almost as if in a dance. He felt her push closer, her hands coming to grasp against the fold in his shirt. He looked down at her, at that, those warm fingers playing, tingling his chest. His wife used to do that, she would do that whenever she wanted something.

She touched him just like that when she told him he was pregnant.

He smiled, lost in a faint memory when he heard her words whispered in his ear. For a moment he had to close his eyes, her voice so much like Melinda's. He just closed his eyes, lost in the moment, in his wife's memory. He wrapped his arms around her, breathing in her scent, pushing Melinda through Niamh's body.

But the word clicked in his mind, and he pulled back, only to look at Jason's trousers. They were undone, his now flaccid penis laying limply out of them.

"Jason..." He pushed Niamh aside, grabbing for his sword. Jason, looking down, tucked himself in, as he spoke harsh words.

"You want to talk with me, Captain. In private."

A sword was in Wesley's hand before the eye could see it. He rushed forward to the lower deck, as Jason moved back, defensively. All he had was a knife, but he quickly dropped it, showing there was no weapon, no threat.

"I want her. I want her as my own."

He shook his head, the sword being drawn up, "No deal."

"I'll take her, as half payment. You only need to pay my father half of what is in the hold. She is worth the rest."

Wesley stopped. He looked deadly. Fierce and deadly. He had turned from a drunken excuse for a pirate into a full fledged warrior in mere seconds. Eyes were flaring, his nose hot from drawing in extra breath.

"The deal was just money."

"All you had was money, Captain. Until today, you have a princess, now. New terms. You said so yourself, you wanted money to retire. Half of what is in this ship should be more than enough."

Wesley paused, lowering the sword. Hating himself for lowering the sword. Melinda. Melinda wouldn't have done this. He turned back, looking at Niamh on the upper deck, so close to the wheel.

"She's not part of the bargain."

Jason walked up behind the captain, hissing in his ear, low enough so Niamh couldn't hear.

"I know what you're doing. I heard you in there with her. You lied. You're not taking her to find others to help. You're going to give her right to the Braviens. Just as I would do. Give her to me. Let her go."

It took Wesley a long time before he shook his head, the weight of the world, of her world on his shoulders.

"I'll tell her. Give her to me, or I'll let her know just what kind of a savior she is..."

Wes walked away from Jason. He stepped up into the upper deck, not looking at Niamh, not looking at anything. He went right back to the wheel, staring at the open sea in front of him.

"You have work to do," He said, rather harshly, not bothering to look at Niamh, "I want that sail, and I want it now."

Another compromise, another piece of him being cut down, torn apart. Was there no right answer? Nothing he could do and still find strength to wake up in the morning?

 

[Britwitch]

"Princess?"
Niamh felt a wave of relief as the Captain's voice split the air, her eyes closing for a moment as he took hold of her, turning her to face him. She put up no resistance as his hand took the knife from her own.
"Princess...What happened?"
She opened her mouth to reply but Jason's voice rang out first.
"Just a little mistake, that's all Captain," Jason said, smiling away his little cut, "I tried to help her with the sail and I cut myself. Accidentally. No big deal. I think she saw the blood and panicked, princess and all. Probably never even seen blood before."

Niamh threw a disbelieving glance towards the crewman. Surely he didn't think the Captain would believe such a thing. Behind him she could see the rest of the crew moving sheepishly about, working but clearly with their attention focus on the events upon the upper deck.

She felt the Captain's arms encircle her, a hand rising to turn her face from side to side, eyes searching her skin for any kind of mark, any reason for him to worry. She knew he would find none and fresh concern stabbed at her insides. What if he did believe Jason's words. After all he had shown enough trust in his opinion when she had been found.
"Is that what happened? You called for my help?"
"...I..." Niamh began tentatively before Jason's face appeared over Captain Acker's shoulder, a cruel expression painted upon it and the knife held high. It would only take a moment for him to sheath it in the Captain's back and then what chance would she have of ever finding freedom.

"Yes, tell the captain the truth now,"
Niamh's eyes narrowed as they met Jason's before moving back to the concerned ones of the Captain looking down at her.
"I...I think perhaps I have sat in the sun for too long, Captain, I...I must have overeacted..." Her mind was working through ways she could alert the Captain without signalling to Jason that she had done so.

Making a soft whimpering sound, Niamh pressed herself against the Captain, pushing herself up onto her toes to wrap her arms about his neck. It was melodrama at it's best, but it would have to be if it was going to work. The momentum of her action span them slightly, so that it was now her back facing Jason and the Captain's face was pulled down slightly alongside her own. Feeling some small measure of comfort knowing that at least Jason couldn't attempt to stab the Captain so easily, although why she had put herself in such a dangerous position she did not quite know.

"I was so scared..." She whimpered loudly, making an obvious show of her distress, burying her face against his neck before continuing in a much quieter voice, "...his trousers...!" She whispered in his ear, certain that in the scuffle Jason would not have had time to rebuckle them or adjust his obvious arousal. Her fingers curled into the material of his shirt, her body trembling slightly within the strength of his embrace.

If nothing else the tone of her voice and feel of her body should at least convince the Captain that something was not right within Jason's explanation. She had to hope. If he did not believe her, the Lord above only knew what Jason might try next time.

 

[Britwitch]

There was something in the brief embrace that she shared with the Captain that sent a tremor through her flesh. A closeness that went beyond the mere physical contact that they shared. She could smell that scent again, sending ripples across her skin, the sea and the sun along with something more hardy and undeniably masculine.

"Jason..."
She gasped as Captain Acker moved her aside, pushing past and drawing his sword. She had hoped he would at least reprimand the younger crewman but she hadn’t expected him to even think of fighting. Fights for a woman’s honour were the sort of thing she thought she had left behind in Caria.
"You want to talk with me, Captain. In private."
"I want her. I want her as my own."
Niamh could only watch as the Captain drove Jason steadily back along the deck, his sword pointed at the now unarmed man. Her heart leaping into her throat as Jason made his request.
"No deal."
"I'll take her, as half payment. You only need to pay my father half of what is in the hold. She is worth the rest."

His Father?!
So there was a reason that Jason’s opinion was so valued. His father was one of those responsible for the Captain’s position. Niamh was already certain that Jason was a man she would never like but to know he was involved in the unfortunate situation the Captain was in made her doubly certain.
"The deal was just money."
"All you had was money, Captain. Until today, you have a princess, now. New terms. You said so yourself, you wanted money to retire. Half of what is in this ship should be more than enough."

Niamh’s fingers curled into fists by her sides as the Captain’s sword slowly lowered, his face glancing up to where she stood beside the ship’s wheel. She wasn’t even aware of it but her head was shaking slightly, eyes pleading silently with his not to agree.
"She's not part of the bargain."
Niamh felt such relief at his strongly spoken response but she watched with rising concern as Jason moved closer, whispering something to the Captain that, judging by his expression, was a threat of some kind.

After a few moments, the Captain moved away from Jason, returning to the upper deck, standing close to Niamh. His eyes fixed upon the horizon as his hands took up their place upon the polished wood of the wheel.
"You have work to do…I want that sail, and I want it now."
“Yes Captain…” Niamh replied meekly, she could see the internal battle within his eyes although he managed to keep most of the torment from showing upon his face. Pausing before heading back down to the lower deck and the sail, she moved to his side, briefly squeezing his forearm as it rested upon the ship’s wheel. “Thank you…” She all but whispered, her palm sliding down to momentarily rest upon the back of his hand, unsure if she was thankful for his coming to her aid or for apparently refusing to go along with the demands of Jason who was clearly more than just another member of the crew.

Niamh returned to her needlework, eyes cast down, avoiding the glances of the crew. Making sure the blouse was high upon her chest as she set about fixing the tear. The needle becoming a glistening blur as she focused all her energies, her concern and fear at Jason’s actions along with the anger that they brought all coming together to compel her fingers to work quicker than ever. Within the hour, the tear was closed, tiny, tight stitches marrying the two sides of cloth together.

As two of the crewmen began fixing the vast lengths of rope to the billowing material, her eyes drifted towards the upper deck and Captain Acker. His eyes were fixed upon the horizon and Niamh felt a slight pang of something she thought might be disappointment that he would not witness her handiwork before it was hoisted aloft. Deciding that to remain on deck with the Captain so obviously involved in his own tasks would only invite more trouble, of which she had already had enough to last her for quite some time, Niamh returned to the Captain’s cabin.

She moved to the window, watching the rise and fall of the skyline as the ship made it’s graceful way through the ocean. The mended sail seemed to have done the trick as to even her untrained eye the wake left by the ship seemed to increase in intensity. Running her fingers through her hair she turned away, catching sight of herself in a slightly smudged looking glass in the corner of the room.

She approached her reflection slowly, frowning at both the state of her apparel and the way it made her look. Her face had changed since the last time she had looked upon it too. Her cheekbones seemed more defined, no doubt due to the time spent in the hold, and her cheeks themselves seemed to have caught the glow of the sun during her hours upon the deck.

Determined not to have any other members of the crew getting the wrong impression about her, she returned to the drawer of women’s clothes that the Captain had shown her earlier. Most of its contents were far more revealing than the garments she wore but a few of the dresses were a little more conservative in their design, and with a little attention from a needle and thread they would be more than passable.

Selecting a few and sitting upon the end of the bed, she began to sew. Taking material from some of the less suitable garments and adding them to others. They were hardly the sorts of dresses she had grown up wearing but they would do, they would cover her body for the most part and would at least fit her correctly. Soon she had a dress she felt far more comfortable wearing, changing into it behind the screen she sighed as she stepped back in front of the looking glass. The dress fitted her perfectly, skimming over her natural curves with just the right amount of emphasis. The neckline was far more demure than that of the blouse although it would still be a little too low cut to be worn at court. She turned this way and that, admiring her own handiwork and making mental notes of the adjustments she should make to the other garments. She was so wrapped up in her appraisal of the gown that she didn’t notice the door to the cabin quietly open and shut.

 

[poohlive]

"It looks very good on you, princess," He spoke, as soon as he shut the door, locking it behind him. The audible click echoed in the small room, as if to emphasize just how tight the quarters were, just how confined these walls surrounding her.

Jason stood against the only door for escape, visible eyes on her.

"We have much to discuss, you and I," despite the look on his face, the horrible black raging in his eyes, and his forward pouncing stance towards her, he had no weapon she could see. Only one, nestled between his legs that he would sheath later on, with or without her consent.

"My father is a very important man. He can help you, with your position, princess. He is a duke in the Allan empire. He could convince the king to your just cause, help you sit down once more upon your own throne."

He moved towards her, smooth and silent. His hands running up and down his thighs, that bulge still there, a deep need to push her down and take her here and now. With any luck she would just let him, just get it overwith.

"Of course, it would take convincing. Say... were you my wife? I claim you for my own, and our father would have no choice but to go to war for us. He would want the lands reclaimed for himself as much as for you. Think about it? Me, by your side, your home again. I told you... I told you that if you just lay with me I could protect you. That offer still stands."

 

[Britwitch]

"It looks very good on you, princess,"
Niamh jumped, her entire body tensing as she span to face the door, jaw tight as her eyes fell upon the last person she wanted to be shut inside a room alone with.
"You're...you're not allowed in here. Captain Acker told me, this room is out of bounds..." Her words were useless but she felt the need to say something as she edged along the wall behind her, trying to keep as much distance as possible between the pair of them. The click of the lock behind him only serving to punctuate just how feeble her protest was.

"We have much to discuss, you and I...My father is a very important man. He can help you, with your position, princess. He is a duke in the Allan empire. He could convince the king to your just cause, help you sit down once more upon your own throne."
Niamh listened carefully, his words were spoken smoothly as if he expected her to broke no resistance. As he stepped towards her she slid further along the wall, away from the mirror, nearing the bed and gradually backing herself into a corner. She could see that terrifying bulge within his pants again, the movements of his hands over the material stretched across his thighs merely drawing her attention to it.
"Thank you...but no..." Niamh replied curtly, her eyes tearing from his approaching body to scan the room, looking desperately for anything she might use as a weapon.

Jason continued, that same cool, dark tone reverberating around the otherwise silent cabin.
"Of course, it would take convincing. Say... were you my wife?..."
"Never!" Niamh recoiled, her hands curled into fists once more by her sides.
"...I claim you for my own, and our father would have no choice but to go to war for us. He would want the lands reclaimed for himself as much as for you. Think about it? Me, by your side, your home again. I told you... I told you that if you just lay with me I could protect you. That offer still stands."
"And my refusal of it does too..." Niamh snapped as she lunged towards the bed and the pile of dresses she had been sewing, snatching up the small pair of scissors she had been using and she held them up, points shining towards him as she backed into the corner.

She glanced pointedly at the wound to his cheek.
"You will maintain your distance, sir...or I shall give you a matching decoration for the other cheek..." Her eyes narrowed as she held the less than threatening weapon out before her. The scissors were sharp and if she got close enough they could do enough damage to buy her some time. But to get close to him was the last thing she wanted.

"Your offer, whilst no doubt fulfilling desires of your own, could never fulfil any wish within my heart. As much as I long for my home and my people, I would never subject them to invasion by Allan..." She sneered slightly, holding the scissors higher. "Now...I suggest you leave...this cabin is not yours...and neither am I..." Niamh was privately proud of how steady she managed to keep her voice. Somehow containing the mounting fear within herself, the hand holding the only weapon she had keeping surprisingly still, her green eyes glittering with anger as they glared at the young crewman.

 

[poohlive]

"And what's your alternative? Go back to your home, prisoner, doing what the Braviens want until they have no further use for you and kill you themselves? At least with me you can still be a queen. With Allan you have some rights to your own lands."

He must admit, it would be advantageous not only to have her as a wife, but her country as well. Riches and land, territories and new ports he could not have gotten on his own. Not even with Wesley's help. The captain had resources true, but nothing as wonderful as this.

"Oh, that's right... I forgot, the captain is going to save you, isn't he? Take you to friends? And you believe him? What is the first thing he told you, do you remember? Think back."

He came forward as he spoke, hoping to distract her with his words as much as his presence. It would happen one way or another, he would take her and make her his. If she wished to stall any longer, he would simply show her just how brutal he could be.

"Never trust a pirate. He takes you to the Braviens and gets his money, or he travels with sea with you by his side, hoping to find a friend. There are no friends anymore. Everyone has been waiting to see Caria fall. It was only a matter of time. You are now stuck in the middle, and no run down washed out pirate is going to save your sorry ass."

He leapt for her, and the scissors, holding her wrist in his own hand. He could feel her struggling, feel her trying to dig the scissors into his own flesh. He squeezed though, squeezed her wrist, feeling those bones in her hand, feeling the muscles underneath, feeling her heart alive and wild in her chest.

"You're mine, now."

 

[Britwitch]

"And what's your alternative? Go back to your home, prisoner, doing what the Braviens want until they have no further use for you and kill you themselves? At least with me you can still be a queen. With Allan you have some rights to your own lands."
"You know no more of my fate than I do..." Niamh's voice grew quieter as his words penetrated her already trembling heart. To return to Caria and the Braviens would be only the beginning of the nightmare, of that she was certain.

"Oh, that's right... I forgot, the captain is going to save you, isn't he? Take you to friends? And you believe him?"
Niamh's jaw tightened and a wave of nausea swept through her momentarily.
"...What is the first thing he told you, do you remember? Think back."
She frowned, casting her mind back through their discussions, both public and private. Remembering the emotion in his eyes as he had spoken to her of finding help, had she simply been fooled by a man with more tricks up his sleeve than she could ever hope to understand or recognise...?

Niamh jumped, realising that her musings had allowed Jason to creep even closer. She backed further still into the corner, raising the scissors a little higher.
"Never trust a pirate. He takes you to the Braviens and gets his money, or he travels with sea with you by his side, hoping to find a friend..."
"And why should I trust you...? He at least has not attempted to force himself upon me!" Niamh snapped, her heart beginning to thunder in her chest as Jason drew ever nearer. A hungry, dangerous light glowing ominously within his eyes.

"...There are no friends anymore. Everyone has been waiting to see Caria fall. It was only a matter of time. You are now stuck in the middle, and no run down washed out pirate is going to save your sorry ass."
Niamh yelped as Jason jumped upon her, his hands taking firm hold of her wrists, one squeezing painfully around the one wielding the scissors. She tried in vain to jab the sharpened metal into his skin, whimpering as the pressure around her flesh grew too much and the scissors slipped from her fingers, hitting the floor with a delicate tinkle.

"You're mine, now."
"You won't get away with this...!" Niamh cried out, twisting and pulling, her hands balled into fists as she tried to pull free from his iron like grip. "I won't let you do this..." She growled, attempting the same tactic that had gotten her free from the Captain's grip. Her knee rising sharply and heading for the swollen front of his trousers. "Let me go!" She yelled, before opening her mouth and screaming for the Captain, for anyone to save her from the seemingly inevitable.

 

[poohlive]

He had played this game with her before, and knew the dance she was trying to do. He pushed her onto he bed before she could strike her deadly blow to the knee. Down on he bed, the soft comforter surrounding them, he pushed her down onto it, prisoned her between him and the bed.

He used his knee as a wedge, forcing itself between her legs, pulling them to either side of him. They were useless there, she could kick his back, but little else. No more problems with his new bride to be.

"Go on," He hissed into her ear, "Scream... scream all you want. You're mine now, I told you. It took a lot to pay for you, for this precious moment. But, everyone has their price. For the captain, it took all of the payment in the hold. You better be worth it."

He kissed her neck, he softest of groans. Hands left her wrists, running down her body, ripping at the modest dress she now wore. Expose her breasts, her soft belly, touching his, and then her legs, her delicious thighs.

"I don't want to hurt you, you fucking bitch, just relax, let me do what I need to. It's almost done."

 

[Britwitch]

Niamh was caught off guard by the push onto the bed, the air being pushed from her lungs, temporarily ending her scream as he clambered on top of her. His knee working to swiftly part her legs and trap them around him, leaving her open and vulnerable, pinned inescapably beneath him.
"Go on...Scream... scream all you want. You're mine now, I told you. It took a lot to pay for you, for this precious moment. But, everyone has their price. For the captain, it took all of the payment in the hold. You better be worth it."

"You...you bastard!!" She screamed at him, her body writhing and struggling beneath him, recoiling as much as she could as his mouth kissed her neck. His lips wet and hungry, sending a trickle of absolute fear down her spine. She cried out as he began to tear the dress from her body, the simple fabric proving no contest to the desire coursing through his veins.

Every touch made her want to vomit, her skin rippling with gooseflesh as his probing fingers traced the skin as he revealed it. Her rounded breasts, the smooth plain of her stomach and down, lower, to her thighs. As the tingling sensation of his touch reached her thighs she bucked hard beneath him, muscles tensing in a last ditch attempt to preserve her innocence against his assault.

"I don't want to hurt you, you fucking bitch, just relax, let me do what I need to. It's almost done."
"No....no...I...I won't....you can't...!" For the first time since Jason had locked the door, Niamh felt the stinging of tears pricking the backs of her eyes and a lump of sheer terror rising in her throat. "Let me go! Let me go right now...!" She continued to fight, although her fear was causing them to grow weaker and weaker as panic steadily took control of her body. Her mind was reeling, trying to convince her this was a dream, an awfully vivid dream but one that she would only have to wake up from to banish it forever.

Letting out a slightly strangled sounding cry as his fingers pressed against her sex Niamh screwed her eyes tightly shut.
It's just a dream...a nightmare...it's not...it's not real... Her mind repeated over and over, as the first tears escaped from beneath her lids and slid down her cheeks.

 

[poohlive]

Jason could feel her begin to accept it. It didn't take long, only a moment for her to realize just what was happening. He'd had more than enough girls stop fighting, once they realized it was useless. To accept one's fate, how delicious, how perfect.

He didn't struggle with her near enough now. He tugged at his own pants, dropping them down, his cock springing forth between her legs. It fell flat against his stomache, a dull round slug, throbbing red and angry.

He guided it down to her entrance.

"I want you to watch," He said, grabbing her hair, pulling her head up, yanking her, forcing her to see between their bodies. His cock against her slim slit. He wanted her to see this, wanted her to know who owned her.

"Just watch," He smiled, moving up, his cock slipping inside. It looked beautiful, to see her virgin cunt begin to accept him, the sides of her walls separating, clinging, no moisture inside, nothing but dry.

It's ok, he would make her wet soon enough.

The tip of his cock slowly worked its way inside.

 

[Britwitch]

"No...no...no..." The half cried, half whimpered word was flowing from her lips again and again like some odd mantra. Jason's attentions focused on freeing himself from his clothing, the shredded remains of her dress all but pinning her arms by her sides, her body exposed beneath him, prone, waiting for him to begin her torment. She screamed as his fingers tangled cruelly in her hair, pulling her head up sharply, forcing her to look down her body towards his swollen sex, the sight bringing fresh waves of nausea up from her stomach.

"I want you to watch,"
It seemed so large against her body, against her untouched sex.
"Please..." Niamh began to please. "Please don't do this to me...!"
"Just watch,"
Jason's smile was nothing short of evil as he pressed his hips against hers and began to force himself inside her. Her dry, chaste lips being spread lewdly to accept him. Drawing fresh whimpers and cries from her as her insides did all they could to prevent him entering but he would not be deterred.

Niamh struggled hard once more, praying she might somehow throw him off balance or at least jarr his focus and prevent his slow, painful entry.
"Nooooo!" She arched her back and screamed, the cry loud, long and piercing, containing every last shread of her resistance, of her strength. Her fingers clutching at the bedsheets, curling tightly, jaw tensing, every ounce of hope that was left within her praying to every deity she had ever heard of for rescue, for redemption. Not necessarily from the loss of her innocence, that she was certain she could live with under the right circumstances. It was to lose it in such a violent and unwanted way, and to such a man, that truly terrified her.

 

[poohlive]

The loudest sickest sound of flesh being broken took hold of them both. Jason could feel his cock being sucked in, despite her still futile efforts. The head of it now pushed inside, being swallowed, eaten alive by her hot cunt.

He gave a look of surprise as he bent down. For a moment he stopped, still, his eyes growing to nothing more than the whites in his eyes. His grip loosened on her, his body began to convulse.

Blood flowed freely from his chest. A hole, still smoking, let it run freely down him, between them both. It covered the dress, her naked pale skin, covered everything in sin.

Jason looked down, at the shot in his chest, feeling, for the last time, his beating heart. It hiccuped, trying one more desperate attempt to send blood to his extremities, but in the end, thought it best to stop.

He fell down to the floor, crashing, dead before his head slammed into the worn floorboards.

Captain Wesley dropped the gun. He stood there, inside of the room. The locked door had been thrown open, splinters of the door lay at his feet, where the shot musket now lay. It smoked with finality from the ground.

When he walked into the room, he used slow steady steps that seemed carefully planned. The hollo echoes of the bootheels on the ground only made up for the blood seeping out from the now dead body.

"You don't deserve that," He said, not to her. Since he had come into the room, he never really addressed her, but he was speaking to someone. Or something. Perhaps a memory.

"No one deserves that."

And then he blinked, and he was back inside of his head, inside of this room.

"Princess, are you all right?"

 

[Britwitch]

Niamh froze, the inhuman roar above her all but stopping her heart. For a moment or two everything seemed to slow down, all she was aware of was the pain within her sex as Jason forced his way inside, unwilling flesh being made to part and accept him. Then there was warmth, a frightening warmth spilling across her stomach and sex and thighs, racing across her skin.

Within seconds his tight grip on her body loosened, his body moving in an uncontrolled, almost panicking, motion. Niamh dared to glance at him and instantly wished she hadn't. The warmth immediately being explained as she saw the rivers and rivulets of bright crimson pouring from a gaping wound in his chest to paint her skin with it's vivid touch.

She began to shake, hysteria threatening to overwhelm her as he wobbled and then toppled completely from the bed, his half opened eyes fixed on a sight she could not see. She began to wipe at the blood upon her skin, fingers desperately trying to rid herself of it's stain. Groaning as her body protested the movement, her sex felt afire, almost as if Jason's swollen shaft was still forcing it's way inside.

A voice cut through her thoughts and made her rush up onto her hands and knees on the bed. A defensive stance, instincts trying to prepare her for another attack.
"You don't deserve that...No one deserves that."
Like Jason, the Captain's eye seemed to see something Niamh could only imagine at. What he could see or whoever he was addressing, she didn't care. She wanted to weep such was the relief at seeing him stood there. The remains of the previously locked door upon the ground, along with the weapon responsible for her rescue.

"Princess, are you all right?"
Niamh scrambled from the bed, shedding the remains of the blood stained dress and all but ran towards the Captain, throwing her arms around his torso and burying her head against his chest, unable to stop the crying that now took hold of her. She was shaking and trembling as her tears soaked into his shirt, fingers curling into the material of his shirt once more. As if afraid that to let go of him would allow the nightmare to return and envelop her once more.

"I...I tried to stop...I tried...but he...I couldn't..." She whimpered, lifting her chin to meet his eyes, her own bright with tears and relief and barely contained terror at what she had just experienced. "I'm...I'm sorry...I didn't mean...I could never...I owe you so much...he didn't...I don't think he did...thank you...thank you..." She finished, her stammered, babbled words ending in a grateful sigh as she returned her head to rest upon his broad chest. Fighting against a feeling of light headedness briefly weakening her legs and pressing her closer against him. The strength and warmth, the solidarity and safety she felt when stood against the Captain was almost as overwhelming as the relief she had felt at his entrance, it was almost enough to cause her tears to begin to flow once more.

 

[poohlive]

"Shhh. Shhh, it's ok," He wrapped himself around her, calming her, hugging her, whispering sweet words of nothing into her hair as she just cried. There seemed to be nothing more, nothing that could have been said between them. The captain didn't wish to ruin any moment, and she found such peace just with him right here, that he didn't want to take it away from her.

His crew did come, wanting to clean. He nodded, telling them to put the body with the gold. It deserved to go to the Duke, along with the payment. The captain had killed the duke's son, the least the man deserved was to be able to bury him.

Knowing what this might be, the crew grabbed everything, moving it out as soon as possible. New sheets were put on, clean ones, not fresh... but not covered in blood.

A warm bucket of water and soap were brought to the room. The Captain finally sat the princess down on the bed, beginning to clean her. The tears from her eyes, and the blood caked now to both of their bodies, not just hers.

"You don't have to talk about it," He soothed, "We'll just get you cleaned up, all right?"

 

[Britwitch]

Niamh lost herself in the embrace, aware of little besides the calming warmth of his breath against her hair and the comfort his encircling arms brought her. Her eyes closed and fingers gripping at his shirt the way a child clings to the skirts of their mother. She didn't observe the cleaning or the crewmen that did it, she was only aware of what had happened when she found the Captain guiding her towards the bed.

Her stomach tightened as they drew near, eyes wide as they glanced down to where Jason had fallen but he had gone. The bed was newly made and the floor cleaned. It was truly as if it had been a nightmare, banished with the coming of the dawn leaving nothing in it's wake.

She sat down obediently, eyes watching the Captain half curiously as he knelt before her and began to gently cleanse her skin. Niamh flinched a little as the warm water and soap touched her for the first time but she forced herself to relax.
"You don't have to talk about it...We'll just get you cleaned up, all right?"
"Thank you..." She murmured appreciatively. Surprised at how tender and careful his touch was. Removing the dried blood from her skin with focus but gently. It was almost hypnotic, watching his hands making sweeping passes over her skin, her hands, her thighs, her stomach, then gently nudging her thighs apart to clean her sex.

Niamh blushed as he continued to bathe her with the same loving attention one might bathe a babe. And yet there was something deep inside her, a sensation she could not place for she was certain she had not felt it before and it stirred everytime his hand glided across her flesh. Shame creeping into her mind that she might somehow be enjoying the experience but she repressed such thoughts, after all, this was surely an act of kindness with it's roots in the Captain's heart not his loins. And besides, it was merely a cloth touching her so intimately, not his hands.

Eventually his own bloodied hands stopped and he dropped the cloth into the stained water, handing her a plain towel which she swiftly wrapped around her naked form before sitting back down before him.
"You didn't have to do that...and I am truly grateful..." Niamh's voice was earnest although she had regained a little of her poise. She caught his hand in hers for a moment, glancing down at the dried blood staining the back and letting her gaze rise higher to find more upon his clothes and arms from her embrace.

"May I..." She began, unsure how she was going to finish. "...I know there is little I can do to repay you for saving my life, for I am certain had you not done what you did, my life would have been over...so, may I at least attempt to return the favour...?" She asked softly, waiting for him to sit beside her and, taking the cloth in one hand and his hand in the other, she began to gently clean it.

Unsure why she had done such a thing, instead of first requesting clothes of somekind, but knowing why seemed relatively unimportant as she mimicked his actions. Having never washed anyone but herself she was worried that she might seem clumsy although why that should worry her she could not say. So many unanswerable thoughts and questions swirling in her mind as she leant a little closer to run the cloth up the Captain's forearm.

 

[poohlive]

The captain nodded, reluctantly. He didn't want her to wash him, didn't want her to so easily take the blood from his hands, but the look in her eyes were so promising. Life, coming back, some spark of her old self, not like before, not those dead eyes which just pooled in light and let it hover like foam on the sea.

Taking off his coat, and his shirt, he let her wash him, how she felt. The blood already began to harden, turning into a dried caked sticky mess, but she cleaned it off of him. His arm, running down between his fingers, up his arms, even his neck. Some had seeped through to his barrel chest, and small drops made down to his stomache.

She cleaned him, softly, thoroughly. She cleaned him like a prince, returning home from war. She needed a way to thank him, to feel normal again, and he would allow that. If just for a moment.

But, he needed something as well.

She sat back down, and he lay on the bed. His head, so heavy now, fell down against her lap, against those smooth thighs. He felt the warm skin, so pale, hardly even seen the sun. Closing his eyes, he could feel her heart beating through those legs, feel her breathing, feel everything. So alive, so warm, such flesh next to him.

"Thank you," He whispered.

 

[Britwitch]

It wasn't until Niamh had finished cleaning every inch of tainted flesh that she noticed the size and scale of his frame against her own. She had been so focused on attending to him, on cleansing him that she hadn't really seen him at all. Lowering her eyes and fighting pointlessly against the flush that had already coloured her cheeks as she moved the water away, wiped her hands dry and sat back down upon the bed.

Her body and her mind felt so drained from everything that had happened that it wasn't until she could feel the solid weight of his head pressing totally against her thigh that she realised what that Captain had done. She tensed momentarily, her heart skipping a beat for a minute or two until she saw the expression on his face. It was almost an expression of peace. The act, like his cleansing of her, came from something deeper than a mere carnal desire.

She forced herself to stop thinking back to the actions of Jason. The Captain and he could not be more different, of that she was certain, in spite of the doubts he had planted in her mind as to the Captain's true intentions towards her.
"Thank you,"
"You're...you're welcome..." Niamh whispered back, lifting her hand, dropping it back to the bed and then lifting it again to push an errant lock of hair back from his forehead.

Leaning back a little against the bedframe and allowing her own eyes to close. Intending to do so for a moment or two at most, but the comfort of the bed and the security of feeling the Captain's solidity and strength so close meant that sleep was growing ever more enticing.

Niamh's head leant back a little, her breathing slowing and growing deeper, in the process her hand slid down from his hair to rest lightly against his shoulder, as her body drifted gratefully into slumber.