Undertow

"By now you've certainly noticed my eye. Dashing isn't it!" he spat sarcastically.

"Yes" she said, without emotion, her gaze never faltering. The corners of his mouth upturned slightly. "It still sees you know. Not very well mind you. Most things are a blur, but I can still make out shapes. I'll tell you something curious though. Since it happened, I'd swear that my other senses are sharpened. Smells are 'brighter'." He brought his fingers to his nose and lightly inhaled her musk. "...more vivid." Next he leaned over her shoulder and grazed his nose past her hair. She could feel his breath as he again inhaled. "Turn around", was his next command. It was only now that she broke his eye contact with a slow peel as she turned, her buttocks brushing his trousers as she did what he asked.

She stiffened slightly as he bent her over. Reaching to the other side, she gripped the tables edge and bent her elbows, her heavy breasts coming to rest on the rough, cool wood. Caste continued; "It was my own carelessness.", he said. She felt his sword hand placed on her back, she could feel the steel against her skin and his firm grip on it's hilt. The two fingers that had entered her previously had made their way with the rest of his left hand onto her rear. "I once let my lust and ignorance get the best of me." His story, seeming almost removed from the actions of his hand, as it made it's way to her arsehole. Again, she tensed, as his index finger gently corkscrewed it's way inside her. "We had captured a ship off the coast of New England, there I had taken a young maid. She cried for her life, begged and pleaded for her life. Promising me every earthly pleasure in return. Well, Lady Katlyn, as you may understand, I found it impossible to refuse." Once his finger had reached it's 3rd knuckle, he began to wriggle it, much like he had done to her front side. Then, just as unceremoniously as it had all began, he removed it. "...spared her life, and brought her to my bed. Imagine my shock when in the heat of passion, she slashed my eye, giving me this lovely memento. This wench had a small nail hidden inside her, large enough to leave me with a lesson I will never forget. "

Katlyn remained over the table, suddenly putting it all together; his cold deliberate hands. "You may stand now my Lady." He stepped again to the table across the room. " There is water here and a rag. If you wish, you may use it to clean the blood."

She looked down now at her nakedness, seeing the red stains on her hands and arms: how some had soaked through onto her chest. "I will return with fresh linens for you." he said, making his way to the door. "Wait!" she found herself imploring. He paused, himself surprised at her small break. They stared at each other, Caste waiting for her to continue. She was unsure of herself, not knowing how to proceed. " ...I..." she hesitates before finding her resolve. "I'm no fool." Caste's eye narrows slightly,

"I never presumed you were, Lady Katlyn." She continued,

"If you wanted to kill me; I'd already be dead." Caste relaxed now; intrigued,

"Possibly", he ponders. She calls his bluff,

"Definitely." Caste allows the tiniest smile to slip, as her confidence grows and her plan formulates.

"There is little benefit to you for allowing me to live. I know your ship, I know your name. Rations are valuable and I am another mouth to feed." Caste seemed to be enjoying this.

"Perhaps my crew needs a wench?"

"I'm better than that." She is power now, ready to make her case. "I could be their whore-this is true, they could tie me down and ravage me over and over, but in the end, you'll still have to kill me."

"And why is that?"

"Because eventually I'll become a husk. A beaten and used shell of a woman. The rape will just be another daily motion that I numbly go through. Your men will tire of an unresponsive pile of flesh."

"You don't know my men."

"I think I do: I bested three of them." The smile on Caste's face widened.

"That you did, my lady." She steps toward him now, imploring him more with her confidence.

"So I should kill you now?" he wonders aloud.

"I have skills. I can fight. I am a strong trader and could be a benefit to you at port."

"Perhaps, I do already have quite a few crew, and as a pirate-bartering is not really a skill I need to possess." She swallows deeply bracing her resolve.

"I will do for you what you can not do for yourself." She leans in close to say it, the words coming out as a breathy whisper. Her heart rate again beginning to rise, she smells him again, the sweat and salt water mixing to some how be seductive.

She looks deeply into his one good eye, holding his gaze. Caste tilts his head forward and tries to touch her lips with his own. He swoops a little following her as she sinks to her knees. She looks up at him as her hands blindly unravel his belt. It falls to the ground, with a thud. Placing her palms on his thighs, she runs them up and down feeling the muscles of his abdomen as she passes. She then tucks her fingers into the waistline of his trousers and pulls them down, The pink crook of his engorged erection mere inches from her face. She feels it's head radiate toward her. She runs her right hand up his abdomen one last time, as she brings it toward his groin, she turns her hand horizontally, allowing the nape between her thumb and forefinger to seamlessly glide to his hilt. She wraps her hand around his cock and lifts it, exposing his testicles. She dips her head down, pushing her mouth toward his underside. His stance, widening slightly to welcome her. The sweat of his loins, filling her nostrils, she opens her mouth, allowing her tongue to extend, it's point sliding toward the back, as her tongue widens, cradling his sack. Her eyes are closed now as she pushes her chin forward, making room for his testicles to drop into her mouth. She rubs her slick tongue softly from side to side, feeling the strands of hair an her cheeks. Pulling back with a vacuous pop.

Her mind briefly drifts to Henry, again, countless indescribable feelings consuming her in an instant. Reminding herself that this is not a betrayal of is memory, but a mode of survival. As she slides her tongue along Caste's shaft, up and down from hilt to tip, she thinks of herself. Of how Henry's loving tongue once pierced her, causing her to overflow with succulence. Lapping up and down, she uses her saliva to lubricate Caste, forcing his cock to glisten. She begins to stroke it, twisting her wrist back and forth as her pressure and pace increase. Caste exhales deeply, his head leaning back, as he puts a hand on her crown. She pulls his member toward her mouth and slips the head inside, running her tongue along it's girth, tickling the foreskin. As she glides her mouth up and down, moving the warm flesh in and out. Soon, his hips are softly pressing into her mouth, she can feel his hands knead through her hair. His grip tightening as she widens her mouth allowing him to pump deeper: harder. She coughs ever so slightly as his penis hits the back of her throat. She wraps her cheeks around his veins, feeling the friction as they push past her lush lips. Eyes closed, she focuses; receiving his swift strokes. His breath quickens as she feels the seed trickle out of his cock in slight twitches. She opens her throat wider as his grip on her hair leads her back and forth. Soon, he grunts with pleasure as he furiously heaves himself into her, his cock convulsing above her tongue. She slides her left hand up the inside of his thigh, finding his testicles and firmly squeezing them as he bursts; filling her throat with his salty brine.

She swallows, conceding no hesitation or weakness. He slackens his pace as his orgasm diminishes and he squeezes the last of himself past her tongue, before gently pulling from her grasp. Finding his breath, he steps back slightly. Resting her arse on her heels, she looks up to the Captain, a breathy smile wide across his face as he again grabs her by the hair. Yanking her upward he turns her around and utters, "On your feet." Pushing her toward the support column that bears the load of the deck above, he stops her mere inches from the timber. He leaves here here. Unsure of what to expect, she stares ahead and listens as he busies himself behind her. Is this it? Will he kill her now that he's been satisfied. From the clatter coming from over her shoulder, it doesn't sound as though Captain Caste is satisfied at all. She closes her eyes and breathes deep, grounding herself, for what she must do and collecting in her mind the events that lead her here.

*

She longed for Henry. They had taken this adventure together, bound by curiosity and love, he had filled her heart with a dream too good to be true, and taken her hand across an ocean. They were to conquer the new world. Him, as a trapper and trader, and her, following her fascination for the natural world. The new world was an never ending landscape beyond all imagination. Together with a small crew they had traversed deep into the waterways of this mysterious land. It was more overwhelming, inspiring and terrifying than anything she had ever experienced. They had trapped large amounts of beaver, and rabbit. They had seen birds and fish no story teller could fabricate, and more than anything, they had done it together. Henry's contract had them away for three years, and as the time passed, Katlyn grew closer not only to her love, but to the wild land that surrounded them. She had marvelled at the creatures that they encountered. Especially the Indians-it was perhaps them that fascinated her most. Tall tales had convinced her that they were savages: feral indigenes who would peel the scalp from your head; but she had learned a much deeper truth. They were a spiritual people, their connections to this earth, just as powerful as their connections to their family. Patient, responsible and loyal, she came to admire the "savages" for their ingenuity and keen respect. Being privy to their culture and their customs had given her appreciation. In fact, it had been the Iroquois that had come to her aid when Henry was killed.

It had all happened so fast, one moment, they were pulling their canoes ashore; Henry in the lead, ahead of the group to survey the tree line. The next, a rampaging blur snarling toward them, then men splashing in fear. The bear launched from it's feet, shocking in it's agility, it's massive body soaring toward her love. She screamed his name and watched helpless from the canoe as the bear's giant paw slapped his face, the sound of his skull being crushed causing time to stand still. She remembers little else. Later; they would tell her that she picked up the musket at her thigh, stepped blindly ashore; aimed decidedly and fired. Penetrating the bears heart, and forcing it to stumble back as it swiped at her, knocking her into the tide. All she could remember was the emptiness she felt inside. A vacancy that gnawed her very soul. She looked to the floor now, knowing that the rest of the hide remained with her, keeping her warm at night, like Henry no longer could.

That was the most difficult part, those days after his death, when she was heartbroken with difficult choices to make. The contract was Henry's to fulfill, she could return to England at any time, but without the promised quota, she would not have much of a life. She would never be able to complete their dream of a croft off the Isles. To fail here, would mean that she would be a sad widow: and that was not Katlyn. She resolved to keep trapping, to finish the contract and return home with the required pelts. Being a woman only made the challenge that much more difficult. The small band of coeur de bois that remained had a difficult time taking orders from a woman. At first, only the indigenes respecting her.

It was only the 2nd night after Henry's death, when she was awakened by Forcier. She liked him little to begin with, and as he attempted to drag her silently from the camp, a blade to her throat, she liked him even less. Forcier was a fool. They had shared a camp for over a year, and he failed to remember that she kept a knife under her bed roll. He breathed lecherous threats as he tried to coax her cooperation. Though he was behind her, she still managed to stab him. As he let go, she turned and kept stabbing. Forcier's screams woke the rest of the men. They stood horrified as her mourning and fear transformed itself into a blind rage. Forcier's body lifeless before she ceased her attack. With their mouths agape, she explained to them with a fury what happened to men who underestimated her.

They fell in line after that. They may not have liked it, but they recognized that Lady Katlyn Macgregor was like few women they had ever met. She was a force to be reckoned with. She was a shrewd trader, whose knowledge and curiosity combined to create ingenious trapping techniques that filled their coffers and allowed them to reach incredible goals, acquiring more than twice the average return for pelts in the area. They'd managed to survive the winter and get their assets to Halifax. The Lady bid good-bye to her crew; many of them departing with words of admiration and respect. She had contracted Captain Paul to return her and the cargo to Great Britain. They had only been at sea 3 days when all this began.

*

It was rope that Caste had been searching for. Silently, he stood before her, binding her wrists together. Securing the knot, he looks into her eyes and says simply, "A precaution."

Pulling her close, he kisses her violently, his tongue lashing into her throat. He bites on her lips and sucks before releasing her and stepping around to her rear. He presses his stiff cock in between her cheeks, she can feel it's rigid flesh as it rests between them. She is almost impressed with how quickly his enthusiasm has returned. Firmly, he reaches his fingers into the nape of her hips and pulls her toward him, her buttocks gently enveloping his penis, he moves his hands upward, around her breasts. He is kissing her neck and squeezing her chest. His hands rough as he pinches her, causing mild pain that seems to hurt her in the best way. Her nipples caught between his thumbs and forefingers he stretches them as she gasps, wanting him to stop, yet hoping he doesn't. His mouth cascades over her shoulders. She cranes her head back, allowing him more room. One of his hands slides down her torso, he rubs her belly with a circular motion that seems to make her blood flow even faster. Soon, the hand begins to sink and his fingers glide in unison over her pubis. Briskly they run, the pressure inside her flowing between her legs, before his fingers curl down and inside of her.

She is a tempest; her labia rolling between his fingers, he finds her centre and begins to work in a circular motion. His other hand is still sanding her breasts; squeezing and slapping them together. He leans her forward. Hands still bound, she extends her arms; bracing herself against the pillar as he rubs his penis against her folds. The torrent between her legs swallowing him as she pushes back, his width causing her mouth to open as a tense moan escapes. She shutters slightly. He thrusts into her with a soft 'thwap' as he again pulls her hair toward him. With each stroke, he increases his depth and speed. She feels her centre being brushed against over and over and is soon captive to the sensations blossoming inside her.

With a sudden unexpected quickness he steps out and turns her around, throwing her against the pillar, and raising her arms over her head. They kiss passionately face to face. Their perspiring brows touch, feeling each others breath as he again slips inside her. He pins both her arms against the pillar, and then raises her leg at the knee, pulling it closer for leverage as he lunges into her again and again; their kisses a serpentine tangle of tongue and saliva. Her breath is heavy now, as she gives into the anticipation that comes with each stabbing sensation. Her mind a haze when he throws her down upon the bear skin, her back arches as he spreads her by the ankles and leans back on his knees, keeping a steady pace with each stoke. Her hands repeatedly clutch the fur that surrounds her steaming flesh. She can feel the tip of his cock press her from the inside. She feels the shaft run against her pleasure spot as he leans over her and slides down with growing intensity and determination. She opens her legs wider now; as he batters her, pounding again and again. His hand pressed on her cheek, pushing it down into the fur, she bites his thumb, and he reacts with increased fervour. She wrestles her head free as her eyes begin to flutter. Her hips begin to quake, as she can no longer contain the pressure building within her. Beginning as a gentle roll in her abdomen, it soon erupts into violent convulsions that quake through her entire lower body. It's too much; feelings so new and violent that she tries to escape, wriggling on her elbows, her hands still useless. Caste only pushes ever forward, plunging with a relentless intensity. She is blind; numb, transcendent, as he groans and spills his seed into her tight, throbbing warmth.

It's only moments, but it still requires a great effort for Katlyn to come back to the present, as the torrid after glow dissipates. They lie there; Katlyn holding her arms above her head, wondering what Caste will do next. With a deep breath, he pulls himself up to his knees, his mismatched eyes looking down on her now, as if she were a vanquished foe. "Have I proven my worth?" she asks, genuinely unsure. His brow furrows a touch, " For now..." he concedes with a smile. His eyes slowly closing as he lays down to rest. Looking to the ceiling, exhausted, she wraps herself in the bear skin as best she can and closes her eyes.

*

She drifts awake from a peculiar dream. Visions of murky depths and soaring heights quickly fade as she lies naked upon the fur. Hands bound, she quickly recalls what has occurred and why. Turning her head, she sees the man beside her, his chest rising and falling with his sleep. This is her chance. Looking around the cabin, she sees his scabbard resting on the table. Not one to miss an opportunity, she sits up slowly and rests her fettered wrists upon her knees. With absolute concentration, she rises. The ship sways in the waves, and it is difficult for her to cross without pattering slightly with each step. When she reaches the table, she looks over her shoulder to ensure the Captain is still at rest. With more care and attention than she's possibly ever had, she grasps the handle to his sword and draws it from it's sheath. She can not kill them all, but if she can kill the Captain, they may just kill each other. The boat suddenly takes a hard lean, causing Katlyn to be knocked back, falling against the table.

The clatter swings Caste awake, rolling to one side. He quickly leans on his elbow, and looks about the room. His sleepy eyes fall on Katlyn and widen as she is exposed, standing naked her bound hands clutching his blade. He is instantly alert and rushes toward her. She fumbles for her words, trying to explain that she wanted only to free herself, but the anger in his eyes eliminates any hope she may have of convincing him of anything other than the truth.

"Vile wench" is all he says as he tears the sword from her grasp, he again grabs her by the hair. Dragging her to her knees, he brings the cold steel to her throat.

As she commits herself to death, Mawndu unexpectedly bursts through the door.

"Captain" he says, a wild look in his eyes. His face only hesitating briefly as he takes in the scene before him. "You must come." Mawndu's gaze rips outside the cabin as he runs back onto the upper deck. It is then that she hears it: though she's completely unsure of what it is. A sensation that fills the air-a soft tension, like being dazzled by a flame. "On your feet woman." says Caste, as he drags her with him toward the door, unconcerned with their nudity.