Chapter One

The pirates came an hour before dawn. The first that Caroline knew of their presence was a hammering from below. She looked out of her bedroom window and saw a dozen men throwing their weight against the front door, which gave way with a huge crash. The men poured inside. Caroline rushed to bar her door, but she was too late. A burly man pushed it open. She threw herself against him, scratching and punching, but he was far too strong. He grabbed her wrists, and she spat in his face. With a curse the man hit her across the face and for a few moments she was stunned. When she came round, her hands had been tied behind her back and she was over the burly man’s shoulder being carried downstairs. Just then Sir George came out of his room, crying out, demanding to know what was going on. A man hit him on the head with a cudgel and Sir George fell to the floor. Then Caroline was outside. It was a warm night, fortunately, because she was clad in nothing but her silk nightgown.

She was carried down to the harbour, where there was a great deal of noise. Drawn up on the quay were about a dozen girls, some like Caroline in their night attire, and one or two completely naked. Some of the men of the village were still trying to put up a fight, but they were being overwhelmed by the pirates’ superior numbers and armaments. Caroline saw two men lying on the ground bleeding. Then she was put down and made to stand in line with the other girls. She could see the pirate ship anchored just outside the harbour, and two longboats moored alongside the quay.

After a few minutes the captain of the ship appeared. He was a tall man with thick, glossy black hair down to his shoulders and a gold ring in his ear. He wore a blue satin coat and a black cocked hat. He strode up and down the line of girls, looking them over, stopping at one, a very plump girl from the village called Molly. Caroline knew her well; she was a dairymaid. The captain turned to the man beside him.

“What fool put this fat girl in line here?”

“I, I don’t know, sir,” the man answered nervously.

Suddenly the captain pushed the girl violently, right over the edge of the quay into the water below. Caroline knew the water was deep there; she hoped the poor girl could swim.

“Right,” said the captain. “Get the rest of these girls loaded and we’re off.”

The men herded the girls into one of the boats. Several of the girls were crying, and looking tearfully back to the village, doubtless fearful of the fate of their loved ones, and terrified of what was to come. The boat was soon full and cast off, two men rowing it out to the ship. There the girls climbed a rope ladder up to the deck, where they stood shivering, the naked girls covering themselves as best they could. Caroline was all too aware that her nightgown, which looked so pretty in candlelight, was hardly adequate cover. She could feel her nipples erect from the cold; a glance down saw them standing out clearly through the thin material.

Soon the girls were forced down a hatch. The space below decks was dark and smelly; the girls sat or lay on the floor. Caroline saw some empty sacks in the corner. She was cold and threw one of them over her shoulders. After a few more minutes she heard the sounds of the ship being made ready to sail. Kidnapped by pirates; it was a terrifying prospect. She had heard enough tales to know what was likely to be in store: transport to some distant lands and sold into slavery, doubtless for sexual purposes. Caroline’s customary pluck had all but deserted her as she contemplated the future. Rescue seemed a remote prospect; the best she could hope for was to try and survive her ordeal, whatever it was.

The ship creaked and rolled as it met the open sea. Caroline dozed, but when she awoke it was still dark in the hold. For hours the girls lay there, some quietly sobbing. Caroline desperately needed to relieve herself; she climbed up to the hatch and banged on it but there was no answer until a rough voice shouted at her to be silent, or she would be sorry. She crept back down the stairs and squatted in the corner. It was shameful, but she suspected worse humiliations were in store.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed. Caroline was getting hungry and thirsty. Other girls had been forced to relieve themselves as she had, and the hold now smelled bad, yet no one up above took any notice of their plight. Time passed and things began to get desperate. Caroline’s mouth was parched and her stomach griped; something had to be done. Caroline knew it was up to her. She was the squire’s wife; the girls of the village would naturally look to her for guidance. She must not let them down.

At last the hatch opened. Outside, she could see, it was broad daylight. A man climbed down. He seized one of the girls roughly and hauled her to the top of the steps. Caroline tried to pull the girl away. The man turned and hit her full across the mouth. Caroline staggered and fell. The man pulled the screaming girl up through the hatch, which was then closed again.

Caroline feared the worst. How many of those men above would use the poor, defenceless girl? But what could she do? After half an hour or so the hatch opened once more and the girl was pushed down into the hold. She collapsed on the floor, sobbing bitterly. One of the girls asked her what the men had done, but she could not or would not answer. Caroline knew she must do something; she climbed the steps again and began to beat very loudly on the hatch. At last a voice above called out for her to cease.

“Take me to the captain. I demand to see the captain,” she shouted. Then she hammed once more on the hatch. At last it opened. A hand reached down and grabbed her by the hair, hauling her up.

“What’s all this noise?” demanded the man who held her. She could smell the rank odour of his body sweat. His hair was lank and tangled, and he had only one eye.

“We are going to die down there if you don’t look after us,” Carline snapped. “Now take me to the captain or there will be trouble.”

Perhaps it was some inherent respect for a woman of quality, or simply a wish to pass her on to someone else, but the man let go of her.

“Come on, then,” he said gruffly. He led her down a gangway and along a passage to a door at the end of the ship. He knocked and a voice said to enter. Opening the door, he pushed Caroline through, following her.

“This one is making a lot of noise, captain,” he said. “Do you want me to shut her up?”

The captain looked at Caroline with curiosity. “Leave us,” he said to the man.

The captain sauntered to the end of his cabin and stood by the porthole, looking out. Caroline could see that he was a handsome man, with fine blue eyes and a pointed black beard. Something about his manner suggested that he was, or had once been, a gentleman. He turned to her with a sardonic smile.

“So, you have something to say to me?”

“If you keep us locked up the way we are, we won’t all survive the journey. It’s almost pitch-dark down there, there’s no air, no facilities for washing or to relieve oneself, we have had no food and we are dying of thirst. What’s the point of going to the trouble of capturing us, only to let us die? I presume you have some plan for us in mind?”

The captain’s expression changed. Did he look concerned?

“I’m willing to do anything you want, if you will only give the girls some relief,” Caroline said.

“Anything?” He raised an eyebrow quizzically.

Caroline blushed. “Yes, I think so.”

“But,” said the captain, “that is not such a bargaining counter as you believe. Because I could do anything I wanted with you, whether I elect to treat those girls better or no. You are totally in my power, are you not?”

Caroline thought for a moment. “But if you try to force me I will kick and scream and the likelihood is you will damage me in some way. A girl with a black eye or a broken arm is less valuable, is she not? Whereas if I willingly allow you to have your way, there will be more pleasure in it for you. Unless,” she added, looking him sternly in the eye, “you are one of those men who delight in using force. Are you a rapist by choice, captain? Are you no better than the ruffians in your crew?”

He laughed. “I don’t care to discuss my propensities with you,” he said. “But there is something in what you say. And I admire your spirit. I like a girl with pluck.”

“Don’t patronise me,” Caroline said without thinking, then wished she could take it back. A more respectful tone was likely to pay better dividends.

“Now I admire you even more,” he laughed. “Very well, now what is it you propose to do for me that will gain your request?”

“Whatever you have in mind,” she said.

“Then come here.”

She approached warily. He took her hand and pulled her close, then with his other hand started to lift her nightgown.

“No,” she said. “First you have to agree to my terms.”

He laughed again. “Which are?”

“The girls will get an hour on deck each day, during which time they may wash and relieve themselves, privately, of course, and another half an hour in the evening. They will be fed, and they will not lack for water. Plus one other thing?”

“What?” said the captain with a sigh.

“One of the girls has already been taken out and violated. That must stop.”

The captain scowled. “My crew are the scum of the seven seas. They have been at sea for two months. If they know there are pretty girls on board and they are not allowed to touch them, there will soon be a mutiny.”

Caroline considered this. “I see the problem,” she said. “Let me try to find a solution.”

“You’re going to take on the whole crew yourself?” The captain smiled.

Caroline blushed again. “No,” she said firmly. “But I have something in mind.”

‘Very well,” said the captain. “So we have an agreement. But one more thing on my side. Whatever I have you do for me today will not be the end of it. I reserve the right to use you every day if I choose.”

“But not for above half an hour,” she said firmly.

“Granted,” he said. “Now raise your skirts and show me what I have been bargaining for.”

Caroline slowly lifted up her nightgown, almost to the top of her thighs. The captain signalled for her to go higher. Blushing once more, she lifted the hem up to her waist. The captain gazed at what was revealed, then made a gesture for her to turn around. As she did so she imagined his eyes boring into her, consuming the beauties of her bared bottom.

“On your knees,” the captain said.

Caroline got down. The captain stood over her and unfastened his breeches. “Take it out,” he said.

Caroline rummaged inside and soon found his cock. She grasped it in her hand, feeling its warmth and hardness, then pulled it out into the open and stared at it. For some reason she could not help comparing it with Henry’s, the only other cock she knew well (discounting that of her husband). It was perhaps no longer than Henry’s, but it had a pleasing thickness in the shaft.

“I’m sure you know what to do,” the captain said. His voice was thick with desire.

Caroline pulled the foreskin back, revealing the swollen glans, a dark red colour. She bent and took the captain’s cock in her mouth, wrapping her lips around the head just below the rim and sucking gently. She ran the tip of her tongue lightly over the little hole, trying to push it in. The captain grunted, with what sounded like pleasure. When she had first sucked Henry’s cock she had gone at it with energy and enthusiasm, believing that this was what was expected of her. But he had persuaded her that a slower, more sensual approach was preferable. He had taken a lot of trouble showing her exactly how he liked it, and eventually pronounced himself fully satisfied. But, he warned, different men have different tastes, so you have to learn to adapt. “You think I’m going to be sucking a lot of other men’s cocks?” she asked, playing the coquette. He’d smacked her hard on the bottom and forced his cock into her mouth again to keep her quiet.

She took the captain’s cock out of her mouth and licked slowly around the head, just below the rim. Then she ran the tip of her tongue down the back of the shaft, along the little ridge that went down to the base. With her free hand she gently squeezed his balls, and was rewarded with another grunt of pleasure. Running her tongue back up the shaft, she took him once more in her mouth, this time sucking harder. She began to move her head up and down, taking the cock in deep, then all the way back out till the head rested on her lips, before covering him once more with her mouth. She had already decided that she would make him come this way. Doubtless if things continued as they were the captain would eventually want to penetrate her, but for a reason she did not quite understand she wished to delay that a little longer. Was it loyalty to Henry? Or even a vestigial sense of propriety as the squire’s wife? She surely ought not to be in too much of a hurry to give up her virtue.

And yet, she said to herself as she worked the captain’s cock, moving her head a little more quickly, your virtue went a long time ago, my dear, the moment you gave way to Henry’s advances. And how long was that after she had married Sir George? Hardly long enough for decency, if there was ever decency in such a thing.

She began to rub the shaft of the captain’s cock in time with her sucking of the head. Already she could sense the tell-tale signs of an orgasm building. She judged that he was past the point of no return, the point at which he was still capable of voluntarily withdrawing his cock, in order to have it serviced in another way. She had control of him now.

The captain suddenly yanked his cock from her mouth with a groan and a stream of semen shot from him. It splattered on Caroline’s face, on her cheeks and her brow; fortunately she had instinctively closed her eyes. A few drops fell on her lips; she stuck out her tongue and licked them off. Semen was strange stuff. Henry had told her the taste of it could vary according to what a man had been eating, and from man to man. The captain’s was salty, and not offensive.

She wiped a drop from the side of her eye and looked up at the captain. He reached into the desk behind him and brought out a small pocket handkerchief, smelling of lavender. He handed it to her and she wiped her face. She took a sniff of the handkerchief and found the acrid odour of semen now prevailed. Caroline got to her feet.

The captain gave her a little smile. “You’ve done that before,” he said. “You’re good.”

She said nothing. It wasn’t part of her purpose to have the captain admire her talents. But at the same time, the welfare of her fellow prisoners demanded that she be amenable. Her body and the pleasure it could give this man were all that stood between them and a grisly fate. Perhaps if she played her cards right she could wring more concessions from him. Thank god it was the captain she was required to service, and not his scrofulous crewmen.

The results of Caroline’s efforts were immediate. The girls were allowed up on deck. Some clothing was found for those who were naked, not of the prettiest perhaps, but adequate to protect their modesty. Ford was brought: some bread and cheese, and a basket of apples, plain fare but to the ravenous girls welcome indeed. A pail of water was likewise gratefully received. And a sheet was put up in the stern to screen the girls while they washed from the buckets of sea water provided. One of the sailors ascended the rigging in order to spy, but was detected by the girls, who set up a cry. The man was hauled down, tied to the mast and whipped on his bare back. Caroline peeped round the side of the sheet to observe this spectacle, but recoiled from the brutality. It was a reminder, if one were needed, of the potential violence that lurked around them.

As the girls sat drying themselves, Caroline spoke. “I have managed to get these concessions from the captain. Don’t enquire how, but I am sure none of you will be in doubt as to the nature of what I had to trade. The captain has informed me that if his men do not receive similar services from the rest of you, he will be unable to control them. What I propose is this. I will try to negotiate with the captain that only such girls as are willing to volunteer will be used in this manner, and that they will not be expected to service more than four men in any one session, and that no violence will be offered to them. If I go to propose this, I need to know that there are sufficient among you who are willing to volunteer in order to keep the rest of you safe. Who is willing to make this sacrifice?”

For a moment there was silence. Then one girl, Sally, pretty and dark-haired, spoke. “They won’t hurt us? And we need only service one at a time, not a whole bunch at once?”

“I will propose this,” Caroline said.

“Then I’ll volunteer. But only if others will too. I’m not taking on the whole crew by myself.”

One or two of the girls tittered at this, but four more raised their hands. The girl who had earlier been violated sat at the back, staring at the deck. She seemed to be still in shock.

“Good,” said Caroline. “Let’s hope I can make it work.”

She went round the sheet, out onto the deck and sought out the captain, who was standing in the stern. She explained what she had agreed with the other girls. The captain listened intently, then replied.

“Very well. We will try this and see how it works. I hope it’s not only the plain ones who are volunteering.” He smiled. “However, I have one condition of my own.”

“Yes?” said Caroline nervously.

“That you dine with me this evening.”

This was rather more than she expected. She hadn’t planned to make an intimate friend of this man, only service his physical needs in exchange for concessions. But she realised that she needed at least an appearance of cordiality.

“If you wish,” she said, inclining her head politely.

“I’ll see if I can find you something more appropriate to wear,” he said, looking at her nightgown. Caroline blushed; she was only too aware that the flimsy material hid little of her charms.

Back below deck with the rest of the girls, Caroline had nothing to do but wait for her evening’s engagement. As one does in such situations, she fell to ruminating on the recent past. Had Sir George survived his blow to the head? How would she feel if she was now a widow? Not that it made any practical difference, given her situation. But try as she might she could not feel much grief. Her marriage had been strictly a matter of convenience. She had had a wretched childhood; her mother, as she had never tired of telling the young Caroline, had wished for a boy. She appeared to resent Caroline and set out to make her life a misery by constant criticism and harsh punishments. Her mother had taken to drink, and when under the influence beat her child savagely. Caroline looked to her father for protection, but he was a weak man, unable to stand up against his domineering wife.

When, at the tender age of eighteen, Caroline had attracted the attention of the local squire, she immediately saw this as a way out of her unhappy home. Sir George was a widower, middle-aged, portly, interested, it appeared, only in hunting and drinking. But to Caroline, desperate for something better, he was a saviour. She readily agreed to his proposal and in no time became Lady Caroline.

It would be an exaggeration to say that she had jumped out of the frying pan into the fire, but married life proved a sad disappointment. She found Sir George physically unattractive. On her wedding night she had done her duty. Sir George had rolled on top of her, thrust away for a few minutes, and rolled off again. It didn’t hurt (she had feared it might) but it left her indifferent. Afterwards she lay awake wondering if this was all there was to it, that thing that everyone made such a fuss about. Since then Sir George had been sparing in his demands, not requiring her services above once a month. For this, Caroline was grateful, but it did not make for satisfaction.

And then she met Henry. He was a distant relative of Sir George, who had come to stay for a week. In no time at all he had seduced Caroline, with, it should be said, no little encouragement on her part. All at once she discovered the joys of sex. Sir George suspected nothing (and might not have cared even if he had). She and Henry would go for walks in the woods, where he would strip her naked and make minute inspections of her body, demonstrating to her the particular pleasures that could be derived from the right caresses applied to each part. Caroline had always been a surreptitious masturbator, but she soon realised that orgasms were all the more pleasurable when induced by a skilled and handsome lover.

Henry demonstrated to her the delights of the various positions for intercourse, introduced her to cunnilingus, instructed her in exactly how to suck his cock, and even surprised her one afternoon with a little light spanking. Secretly she rather hoped that he would try this again, perhaps a little harder, but it had not happened on that visit. Henry had promised he would come back again later in the year. But now, she thought sadly, that would not be.

The hatch flew open and a seaman came down the steps. “Which one of you is it to be?” he demanded. Caroline looked around to see if any of the girls would volunteer. Slowly, with obvious trepidation, Sally stepped forward. The man took her hand and led her up the stairs. The hatch closed. The girls sat there in the dark, wondering what was happening up on deck. Caroline hoped Sally would not be mistreated. If she were, she resolved she would speak to the captain.

When Sally returned the girls were eager to hear about her experience.

“Did they hurt you?” one of them asked nervously.

“No, they were rough but not cruel. I’ve had worse.”

“How many of them?”

“Three,” she said. “But not all at once. One after the other.”

“How?” asked another girl. “I mean, how did they do it exactly?”

Caroline was surprised by how explicit the questions were. But they came not from prurience, but from a need for reassurance, should one of them be next.

“Funnily enough,” Sally said, “they all wanted it from behind. Doggy-style.”

“Did you have to suck them?” another girl asked anxiously.

“That’s what they all wanted,” Sally said. “I hoped that if I gave them good head they’d come before they could fuck me. I reckon I must not be good enough at it.” She gave a little laugh, though there was not much mirth in it.

The hatch opened again. A man came down the stairs and beckoned to Caroline.

“Again?” Sally asked. “He must like you a lot.”

Perhaps he does, Caroline said to herself. As for herself, she was beginning to think the captain was not disagreeable company. But she wasn’t about to forget why she was here, to be sold into slavery. When she got to the captain’s cabin, she found him standing again by the porthole. He pointed to some garments on a chair.

“Those are the best I could find,” he said.

Caroline picked them up. There was a dress in pale green silk, some stays and some white cotton stockings. Nothing underneath, it appeared. She looked around for somewhere to change. The captain motioned to an alcove, in which she could see a bunk. She stepped in and drew the curtain which screened it. Nothing prevented the captain drawing back the curtain, should he be so inclined, but he allowed her to dress in privacy. She drew on the stockings, tying them up with the white satin ribbons that were attached. The stays were tight, nipping in her waist and pushing her breasts up and outwards. The dress was an excellent fit, except that the neckline was lower than anything Caroline had ever dared. Her nipples were only just covered, and her breasts swelled over the top, twin globes of peachy white. When she had put the clothes on she looked around for some shoes, and pulled back the curtain to enquire if there were any.

“I’ll see what I can find,” the captain said. After a moment he passed her a pair of black pumps, which again were a good fit. When she emerged she couldn’t resist doing a little spin to show off her clothes.

“I suppose I had better not ask how you acquired such things,” she said.

“We captured a ship on which a very grand lady was sailing. She had ten trunks of finery, most of which we tossed into the sea. I kept a few things, just in case.”

Caroline wanted to ask what had happened to the lady, but she feared the worst. Best not to know. The captain stepped outside and she heard him speaking to one of the crew. A moment later a man came in with a bottle of wine, which he opened and set on the table. The table had already been laid, with crisp linen and silverware. The captain poured her a glass of wine, and one for himself. Caroline sipped. The man came back with lamb chops and potatoes and greens. Caroline suddenly felt ravenously hungry, and fell on the food.

“I have heard one of the girls address you as Lady Caroline,” said the captain.

“I don’t think a title is much use now, is it?” Caroline replied. “What is your name, anyway?”

“Edmund,” he replied.

“Tell me,” she said, ‘you have the air of having once been a gentleman. How do you find yourself a pirate?”

He smiled. “Once I was an officer in His Majesty’s navy, second in command of a ship of the line. The captain was a brute. Eventually I could not bear his insolence to me and his brutality to the men. I struck him. After a court martial I was cashiered out of the service. I fell in with a rough crowd and, feeling I had cut my ties with society, but having still a liking for the sea, I found myself on a pirate ship.”

“So what now is to happen to us?” Caroline demanded, seizing the bull by the horns.

“Do you really wish to know?”

“Yes.”

“You will be taken to Algiers. There I shall place you with a dealer and you will be sold in the slave market.”

“That sounds like the proverbial fate worse than death.”

“Many survive it,” the captain said thoughtfully. “Some even thrive. And it may be that your friends at home will find a ransom for you.”

“And what of my companions?” Caroline said. “They are but poor girls from the village. They have no rich friends to redeem them.”

The captain said nothing for a moment, then spoke. “If you think to shame me into changing my plan, you are wasting your time. I admire you for trying to help your friends, but you can’t change their fate. Or your own.”

His words were chilling. Caroline ate in silence. She had been foolish to imagine that she could become friends with this man and thereby change her fate. You didn’t get to be the captain of a pirate ship by having a soft heart.

“Are you married?” the captain asked suddenly.

Caroline paused for a moment. She might not be able to change his intentions, but that was no reason to make an enemy of him. Civility might still pay some dividends.

“Yes,” said Caroline. “At least I think so.”

“You think so?”

“When your men broke in to my house my husband was attacked. The last I saw of him he was lying on the ground.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” the captain said.

“I imagine that where I am going my marital status will count for nothing.”

The captain changed the subject. “I know you will think I am only offering false comfort, but some girls achieve high status in their owners’ households. Those who know how to play their cards right and make the most of their assets.”

Caroline couldn’t help teasing him a little. “Do you think I have been making the most of my assets, captain? What would you say they are, exactly?”

The captain teased her back. “That dress reveals some of them. And I think that someone taught you a few things about men, about what they like and how to please them. Perhaps it was your husband.”

“Oh, it wasn’t him,” Caroline said, then wished she had kept her mouth shut.

“A lover, then?” The captain smiled. “But there are social skills, as well as sexual. A woman of personality and resource can always prosper.”

The man came in the clear the dishes. He brought a plate of apples.

“That will be all, Jones,” the captain said pointedly. If he wished to be undisturbed, it was not hard to guess why. Caroline felt a twinge of something in the base of her belly. Despite herself, she could not help experiencing a small spark of desire.

She ate an apple. The captain drank more wine. Then he set down his glass. “Come here,” he said.

Caroline stood up and moved around the table. Even if she had wanted to resist, what would have been the point?

“Closer,” said the captain, pointing to a spot just in front of him. Caroline moved until her knees were almost touching his.

“Now lift your skirt,” he said. “Right up.”

There was little purpose in false modesty. She raised her skirts up to her waist, baring her belly and below. The captain leaned forward and slid a hand between her legs. He played with her cunt for a moment, pressing the lips together, tugging on them, and then slipped a finger inside her. She caught her breath as she felt his finger move inside her. Then he took it out and held it up.

“Wet,” he said.

She could see his finger glistening in the candlelight. She blushed bright pink. Why did her body give her away so easily? The captain pushed back the plates and glasses, clearing a space on the table.

“Bend over it,” he said.

Without a word she leaned forward, pressing her hips against the edge of the table, gripping in with her hands. The captain stood for a moment, admiring her bared bottom. Then without warning he smacked her hard on the right cheek. She gave a little squeal, more from surprise than pain. He smacked her on the other side, then paused, watching the white skin slowly turn pink.

“Did he do that, your lover?” the captain asked. Caroline said nothing. She had heard that there were men who enjoyed hurting girls, men for whom the giving of pain was a special kind of pleasure. That time when Henry had spanked her she had wondered if he was just such a man, but she never had time to find out. Was the captain such a man? Was he going to spank her again? Would he give her a thrashing? She felt a throbbing in her cunt at the prospect. It was frightening, to be so utterly at the mercy of a man she scarcely knew, a man of proven violence. But in fact the captain’s next move was to unbutton his breeches. She heard a rustling sound, then felt his cock, hard and hot, nestling between the lips of her cunt. Very slowly he inserted it, so slowly that it seemed he must be teasing her. And she was so easily teased now; she wanted it, all of it, right now. At last the captain had his cock fully inside her. Now she wanted to feel it thrusting, but still he teased her, holding himself quite still inside her, then pulling it out as slowly as it went in. God, she wanted it, all of it, hard, pumping inside her. I’m a shameless little whore, she said to herself, a brazen slut who is almost ready to beg for it, beg for it to be harder, rougher.

The captain pushed his cock into her again, as slowly as before. She had a sense of what he was about; he wanted her to be forced to admit how much she wanted this, he wanted to break through her ladylike exterior. He wanted her as putty in his hands, pliant, quivering with desire. But why did he want this? What difference did it make to him, that he could make her submit, giving up her pretensions to be modest and respectable? It was his pride, surely. He saw that she had had some influence over him, had persuaded him to mitigate the conditions of their captivity, and now he wanted to reassert his power, by making her his creature sexually, pitiful in her need for him. God, how she wished that she could control her body, could discipline its needs. It was so humiliating to be put in this position.

The captain’s cock was now buried in her once more. She could feel its great size and strength. He leaned forward, brushing the back of her neck with his lips, then reached a hand round, sliding it between her legs, his finger finding her clit. Deftly he rubbed it, gently coaxing it into hardness. She moaned. This was worse than ever, it was not fair to find out her weakness in this way, so easily. He could play her like a penny whistle, making her moan and sigh and grunt with the force of her need of him. As he played with her clit (how did he know exactly how to touch it so that she was thrilled through her whole being?), he began to thrust his cock in and out, not violently, but in long strong strokes, going right in up to the hilt then coming back out until the head stood at the entrance, just caught between the lips, before plunging in once more.

Caroline rarely came from intercourse alone. Almost invariable she needed some extra stimulation, from her own hand or another’s. This was exactly what the captain was supplying, and as the thrusts of his cock grew faster and harder, she found that the tell-tale tingles in her clit grew stronger. Please, please don’t let him stop, she pleaded to herself, and indeed he kept up both the fucking and the rubbing of her clit, so that at last she felt her desire overwhelm her. She cried out with the intensity of the pleasure, and her hips shook. She feared that such movement might dislodge the captain’s cock, but skilfully he managed to keep going, only ceasing to stroke her clit when, needing no more stimulation, she pulled his hand away.

But the captain was not yet finished. He turned Caroline over, so that now she lay with her back resting on the table. He pulled her legs right up so that her ankles were supported on his shoulders, and then plunged his cock in once more. Caroline groaned. She was so sensitive there now that it was almost too much, but the captain was oblivious of her wants, thrusting his cock into her furiously, intent only on his own pleasure. Caroline was more than happy to let him take what he needed now, in any way he pleased. It was not long before he came in her with a groan.

Unsteadily, Caroline got to her feet. She looked around for something to wipe between her legs. She could feel the captain’s semen, copious no doubt, already seeping out between her legs. She took a napkin from the table and wiped herself clean. She was tired now, and happy to take her leave, divesting herself of her borrowed finery first. When she got back in the hold, she fell into conversation with one of the other girls, Nell, a buxom lass who was one of the volunteers. She was eager to exchange experiences.

“You were a long time with the captain,” she said. “Does he treat you well?”

“Too well, I fear,” said Caroline unguardedly.

“What do you mean?” Nell countered.

What she really meant was that many more such sessions with the captain and she might find herself falling for him. It would be an emotion which had no future. She knew that despite his charms the captain was a callous man, and in an occupation which had no room for sentimentality, or even common kindness. She didn’t want to discuss such a matter with Nell.

“Perhaps I feel a little guilty. He treats me well, with good food, and likes me to wear fine dresses, which he has a plentiful stock of. And all this while the rest of you are confined her, with plain food and nothing but rags for your back, and some of you regularly being used, I doubt not roughly, by coarse and common men.”

“Well,” said Nell, “I think they are no more coarse and common than those I am used to back home.”

Hers was a tactless remark. Caroline tried to retrieve the situation. “I meant that the circumstances in which they can make use of you is not one to encourage delicacy.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Nell said. “One or two of them are surprisingly polite. I think they are grateful for what they get. And I suspect at least one of them is sweet on me.”

“I should be surprised if they are not all so,” Caroline laughed.