DISCLAIMER: The characters in this story belong to me or them or no-one, I'm not sure, but as long as they get to have a little fun I'm sure they won't sue.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
THANKS: To Ann for the beta.
The waves lapped at the shore in a tranquil rhythm that was mirrored by the soothing drift of the clouds across the picture perfect sky; a state of being that utterly infuriated Marie. She yearned for the weather to externalise her inner turmoil and give her deep sighs and deadly glare a fitting accompaniment. She wriggled furiously against her bonds, the coarse rope eating into her pampered skin and turning it a never before experienced shade of blood-red. If she developed a blister, she would pitch a fit worthy of a Queen.
"Untie me!" She yelled, her voice hoarse from a litany of such calls. "I said, untie me!"
The boat bobbed serenely at anchor and not even a seagull responded to her yell. Marie had never, in all of her twenty-seven overly privileged years, experienced such isolation, and she soon discovered that she absolutely hated being ignored. "Help!" She thrashed her legs and prayed for intervention or, as a last resort, for one of her captors to return and speak with her.
"Stop fussing," drawled an unseen figure, the feminine tone as smooth as melted butter. "No one's coming for you, little girl, so don't waste your breath."
"Of course they're coming for me!" Marie might have known little of the outer world, but there was one thing she knew with certainty, and that was that she was the star around which her entire family revolved. The idea that they wouldn't be searching Heaven and Hell to get her back was absolutely ridiculous.
The figure moved into view, a seductive smile edging her generous lips. "Who do you think paid me to kidnap you?" she asked. Devon had thought it somewhat suspect when Lord Cook had approached her and begged that she whisk his daughter away to parts unknown, but he had been articulate in his desperation and the single tear that had tracked across his cheek had been her undoing. So, before she could stop herself, she agreed to his harebrained scheme.
Marie's mouth dropped in a mix of anger and disbelief. "They would never -"
Devon cut her off with a quick wave of her hand. "You're a spoilt brat," she intoned, her voice suddenly deadly, even as her eyes twinkled in delight. "No man within a hundred miles will agree to wed you, and on top of that, you're going through your father's fortune at a rate that will leave him penniless before the year is out." Devon had never realised someone could spend so much money on dresses and finery until Lord Cook had shown her the bailiff's writ.
"I have to look good." Marie silently admitted that last month's gold fringed parasol and matching birdcage had been a mistake, but they had looked so pretty in the shop, and who was she to know that the bird within had needed feeding? "What do you plan on doing with me?" She still fully expected her family to rescue her from this crazy woman, but until then, she thought it prudent to play along.
With slow deliberation, Devon gave the seated woman a once over, her eyes lingering for long moments on breasts that appeared to be attempting an escape of their own. She licked her lips. "That's up to you." Lord Cook hadn't been specific, and she was nothing, if not creative. "I could sail to some desolate and remote corner of the globe and leave you to fend for yourself -" The look of absolute dread on Marie's face put pay to that idea immediately "- or I could deposit you in the nearest nunnery with a strict policy of silent devotion -" another look of revulsion quashed that idea "- or make you my cabin boy and roger you senseless at every opportunity." The look that crossed Marie's face defied analysis, causing Devon to raise an expressive eyebrow in question.
"Who's Roger?" asked Marie, who had been feverishly wracking her brain for a trace of recognition since the man was mentioned. "Did he put you up to this?"
It was Devon's turn to look confused. "Your father never said you were simple." Gorgeous breasts or not, Devon wouldn't feel right taking advantage of someone without the wherewithal to rebuff her advances. She might not have had many scruples, but even she wasn't a complete bastard.
Marie let out a shout of such ferocity that the sails shook. "I am not simple!" She'd read more books than the brute - okay, so the woman looked good in the black leather boots, matching trousers and white billowy shirt, but that didn't mean she was anything more than an animal - had read words, and the ruffian had the audacity to call her simple? If her bonds hadn't been so tight, she would have pummelled the ignorant fool to death with her bare hands.
"OoKaay." Devon thought a life of quiet contemplation with the nuns was probably the best option. "As I said, there are three choices. Now I know a pretty nice nunnery not a hundred miles from here where they let the novices speak every other year, if they've behaved themselves." She smiled encouragingly. "Sound good?"
Marie refused to speak. She didn't want to be a nun - the uniforms were atrocious - and she certainly didn't want to be left for dead in some forgotten part of nowhere. Her refusal to speak died a sudden death. "What was the third choice?"
Definitely simple, Devon decided, which was a real shame as she hadn't had such a comely wench on her ship in months. "You stay onboard ship and service my every need," she put as much emphasis on the word 'every' as was humanly possible, but she still doubted the other woman knew what she meant.
"Become a servant?" The idea filled her with scorn. "For you?" The scorn was quickly followed by amused disbelief. "I am a lady," she sniffed, the sudden movement causing her breasts to once again heave in a most distracting manner.
Devon's mouth watered. "And I'm a pirate." She inched a little closer, the desire to see Marie's magnificent breasts up close and personal too much for her to resist. "I eat ladies for breakfast." She could tell the double entendre had gone straight over the other woman's head and once again cursed her scruples. If only there had been a flicker of intelligence, she would more than happily have taken the woman to her cabin and introduced her to Roger. "Never mind."
"Does that mean you'll let me go?" It seemed a little easy and, dare she say, anticlimactic but being able to boast that she had talked her way out of being devoured by an insane pirate would certainly make her the toast of society.
It was tempting, but Devon had given her word to Lord Cook, and she would rather die than go back on a promise. "'fraid not."
Marie's feet drummed against the decking in a show of pique. "I hate you!" She didn't, which she thought was odd, but if felt like something she ought to say. "You'll rot in Hell for your evil deeds."
With a nod, Devon smiled at her tantruming prisoner. "No doubt about it." She was not, by the standards of the day, considered a ruthless and bloodthirsty pirate, but she had certainly stolen her fair share of cargo and separated half a dozen men from their lives. She was a pirate, it went with the territory, and furthermore, she enjoyed it. "Who wants to be in Heaven when all the action is in Hell?"
Devon ignored her. "So, getting back to business, which do you prefer, the nunnery or the deserted island?"
The question was academic, Marie was sure, as her family were no doubt only minutes away from rescuing her, but that didn't stop her feeling deprived at the sudden withdrawal of the third option. Admittedly, she had no intention of being anyone's servant, and she was still confused about where Roger fitted in, but its mere exclusion from the list made it the most desirable. "I want to stay on ship and -" she pulled a face "- be your servant." She wiggled her hands in the hope that she'd be untied. "Maybe you could introduce me to Roger?"
The corners of Devon's lips twitched in excitement; the girl had an odd way of speaking sometimes, but if she was asking to be taken, who was Devon to refuse? "You're sure?" She'd have to dust off the 'Do Not Disturb if you Want your Balls to stay Attached' sign she'd had made during the Countess' stay, but that wasn't a problem.
"Absolutely." She'd have to speak with her father about the tardiness of his rescue. "I'm eager to learn my duties." If the brute made her wash dishes, Marie vowed, she'd scream and scream until everybody was sick.
With a furtive look, Devon assured herself that none of her crew had sneaked back onboard, and believing that no time was like the present, she knelt down and started to untie Marie's feet.
"Than-k -" the words were stolen from Marie's throat as she felt her skirt raised and unhurried kisses planted softly on her inner thigh. "Erm." She wondered if this was some unknown form of pirate initiation, until Devon's hands, now finished with the rope at her ankles, began their leisurely exploration of Marie's unmentionables. "Eep!" If this had been the initiation, the world would be drowning in pirates, all vying to do... "That!" Her heart beat faster than she thought possible and an unheard of sweat broke out on her brow. "Do that again!"
Devon smiled and did just as her captive ordered, again and again and again.
Return to Original Fiction
Return to Main Page