The Pirate's Witch (8 page)

Monique gave a hushed sob and watched his eyes as she slowly stood and hoped she would not be punished for rising.
 
There was no way she could reach to brush his hair from her kneeling position, and he made no comment as she began to unravel the knots from his thick waves.
 
When he was satisfied, he grabbed her arm and pulled her back to her knees.

Monique wanted to ask him how long he was going to keep her there.
 
She assumed the boat would resurface in the morning, and she wondered if there was a way to plan an escape.
 
The thought of following the other paths up the beach to get her friends, or even managing to escape Deegan, were overwhelming her exhausted, terrified mind.

Deegan rose and walked into the trees by the edge of the clearing, and he returned a minute later with some fruit.
 
Monique was famished and tore into the light fair.
 
She remained silent, nervously anticipating what was going to happen next.

A hand gripped her arm and he pulled her to a stand.
 
Monique saw that he had retrieved the curious leather belts and her eyes darted nervously between those and his cruel smile.
 
“I would have had them inlaid with jewels on Tortuga.
 
We must settle for these, I’m afraid.”
 
Deegan knelt and buckled cuffs onto her ankles and wrists, and Monique finally pulled back when he tried to secure one around her neck.
 
Once more, his hand lashed out across her cheek, causing her to spin and almost fall.
 
The fingers yanking her back by her hair prevented that, and she cried silently while he collared her.

Deegan latched her wrists together and pulled her towards the cavern.
 
The space was large, and evidence of his successful trips was arranged around the rock walls.
 
There was a sleeping pallet boarded by round, smoothed tree trunks and filled with grass that was covered with quilts pillaged from his voyages.
 
It was difficult to see much with just the fire outside lighting the area, and he made no attempt to light a lamp or candle, if there were any.

Instead, he pulled her to the bed with him and raised her bound wrists.
 
There were two leather straps that ended in loops attached to a bolt embedded in the rock wall, and he slipped a wrist through each one and tightened them to secure her.
 
His hands immediately began to wander across her body and she continued to cry quietly.
 
Monique’s struggles were minimal, because she was just too tired to fight him, and when his lips came down on her breast the stirring response was becoming expected, though still confusing to her.

As soon as the bud peaked in his mouth, his teeth bit down and she gasped.
 
One hand mauled her other breast and his fingers kept the same rhythmic torture, matching the actions of his mouth between its pulls and pinching bites.

These aroused feelings were different to anything Monique had ever experienced before.
 
Even during Frank’s courtship, when he was trying to win her over with his wit, intelligence and sexual prowess, he had never come close to eliciting the responses from her body that this dangerous man seemed to naturally expose.
 
She fought down her need to writhe against his strength and she moaned in demeaning arousal.

Deegan whispered against her breast, “How you still hate to give me your passion, Clarette.
 
I feel your body trembling your denial.
 
Your pussy drenches my hand with heat from your juices and grips to have my cock fill it, and yet still your mind battles its desire.”

A humiliated shiver coursed through her and she whimpered.
 
Monique had no idea what was happening to her, but the consuming need to have the pirate claim her was more frightening than the thought that he might do just that.
 
When his finger entered her, the walls inside clasped tightly, trying to keep him stroking her spongy depths.

At some point, silent tears had begun to leak out the sides of her closed eyes and her whimpers had reduced to slight gasps escaping through her parted lips.
 
So many times Deegan would look at this golden version of Clarette and see the similarities.
 
More and more, he was beginning to remember her like this instead of the dark, petulant young girl who had bewitched him.

Anger began to seethe and build as his mind traveled to the conclusion that this was what she was doing again.
 
She was bewitching him and using his seductions and arousal against him.
 
Suddenly, he abandoned her body and stormed out of the cave.
 
He paced by the fire until he could control his lust enough to remember he had to subdue her, strip her of her self-worth, so that she would not be able to harm him again.

He strode back to the cave and retrieved the leather gag with the two hanging strips that had so annoyed her.
 
Monique’s eyes widened in confused shock as the edges of her arousal finally left her.
 
She turned her head and screamed until he finally gripped her jaw in his hand and secured the gag.
 
Now he would not have to listen to her pleading or feel threatened by her curses.

His immediate need was to satisfy the throbbing of his rod, and he quickly positioned himself between the thighs he had spread amidst her thrashing.
 
In a solid plunge he was embedded almost fully, and his staff jerked at her pleasing wail.
 
Heavy, urgent thrusts brought him quickly to climax, and he rolled off of her leaving her bound, wailing, and conscious of the waste of sex trickling down her crevice to the quilt.

In the morning when she woke, Deegan already had his breeches on and was stirring the fire to life.
 
He returned to the cave and she kicked through the quilts until her back scraped against the rock wall and her bound hands rested beside her.
 
The stare he gave her was cold, and dispelled the hope that he was going to remove the gag and release her from the wall.

Deegan smiled down at her with a look that turned cruel.
 
“I wonder, Clarette, if your throat will still pulse tightly to please me.”
 
When he grabbed the sides of her head, Monique was terrified.
 
He was inside her mouth so quickly that the taste and texture of him against her tongue had not registered before she found herself gasping for breath.
 
Once more he plunged in an angry frenzy that she did not understand, and when his sticky seed shot far down her throat, she coughed and wailed against him.

After he sealed himself behind his pants, he removed the ring and untied her from the wall.
 
Monique lay in shock, still curled into the wall, until he grabbed her arm and lifted her to her feet.
 
“Come, you have work to do,” he grumbled.

Monique stared down at the fire, watching Deegan light a curious stick with debris attached to it by a wide leaf wrapped around the small bundle.
 
He lit the end and it smoldered, and then he wedged it between two rocks bordering the pit.
 
Deegan walked to the lean-to and returned with a basket.
 
“To the left of the pond are fruit and nut trees.
 
Be back with this filled before the stick burns to the rock.
 
You do not want me to have to come after you,” he threatened.
 
With that, he returned to the cave.

Monique studied the stick a moment and figured she had about five minutes.
 
Completely petrified of the pirate, she hurried to the left of the pond and began blazing a trail through the vegetation and filling the basket with some of the many varieties of edible fruits and nuts she passed by.
 
When the basket was at a decent level, she panicked briefly, thinking she was lost.
 
She listened for the sound of the waterfall and let it guide her back to the clearing.

Deegan called her over to the lean-to, and she remained silent as he taught her how he wanted her to prepare the breakfast meal.
 
He showed her the jar that held the crushed leaves he used for tea, and brought everything back by the fire.
 
Monique automatically knelt beside him and waited for him to put fruit into a bowl for her and ladle out a small amount of tea.

After they finished their breakfast, Monique looked up to see him staring into the fire.
 
Through her terror, her mind screamed silently for a way to escape, and she asked quietly, “Will we be sailing on the boat again today?”
 
She watched as his eyes began to darken, causing her to tremble.
 
Why had she spoken?
 
She should have known better.

She was surprised when he answered coldly, “I suppose that would be up to you, girl.
 
Though I doubt it to be possible.”

Monique scrambled for how it could be up to her to decide if they left the island.
 
The only conclusion she could reach was that he meant if she was going to behave, they could go sailing.
 
“When will you decide?”

“When will
I
decide?” he roared.
 
Monique fell back and scrambled away from him as he rose and glared down at her.
 
“You know the decision to bring the boat back early is yours, Clarette.
 
And if you have lost that magic, then I am certain you will be waiting as anxiously as I for the next fifty years.”

Monique tried to make sense of his words as he once more gripped her arm, and she cried when he dragged her over by the tree.
 
“I don‘t understand,” she wailed.
 
“I don’t understand why you think I’m this other woman… and you’re blaming me for whatever it is you think she did to you.
 
I’m not even from your time.
 
It couldn’t have been me that did this to you.”

The pirate scowled and tied her wrist cuffs together behind her while she sobbed.
 
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a scarf, wrapping it around her mouth to gag her.
 
Monique kicked out with her feet, frustrated, angry and frightened again at his dark mood.
 
He gripped her secured wrists as he loosened the rope tied to the cleat held fast to the trunk of the tree, and the other end slowly lowered from the branch it had been tossed over.

There was a heavy iron hook fastened onto the end of the rope, and Deegan attached her lashed wrists to it then pulled the other end.
 
Monique was raised to the balls of her feet.
 
They slid in the shifting sand while her arms were being lifted up high behind her back, causing her to wail in agony.
 
Deegan tied the loose end of the rope off to the cleat, leaving her to try to balance in the precarious position.

Monique struggled to keep on her toes, as her arms were stretched so painfully high behind her that she was afraid they would twist out of their sockets.
 
Deegan had walked back towards the edge of the jungle growth and snapped off a strong thin shoot from the cane that grew beside the pond.

Monique was concentrating so hard on trying to ease her discomfort that she missed the hissing wind as the cane sliced through the air.
 
She felt a slight press on her bottom… and then it was on fire.
 
She shrieked behind the gag.
 
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught his arm drawing back again, and she screamed when it slammed down across her upper thighs.
 
One more time the arm with the cane made its arch, and she felt the burn across her bottom again.

Deegan dropped the cane and walked around to the front of the sobbing girl.
 
He lifted her face and growled, “Until you are willing to admit to me why you have returned, you are to remain silent.
 
Any other words out of your mouth will result in punishment.”
 
He left her hanging in the torturous position and she watched him disappear down the path towards the beach.

Just as they had been doing for centuries, the pirates put the treasure into a pile on the sand and used sticks to draw out wide lines indicating the points of the compass relative to their individual strongholds on the island.
 
The way they divided the treasure had become a ceremony for them, and was the most important event they shared until the return of their ship.
 
They each had a woman and a bottle of rum, so that portion of the valuables left them on equal status to begin separating and discussing the merits and worth of the rest of the plunder.
 
They were all studying the five expensive fishing rods and deciding what they were willing to give up for one.