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I awoke feeling disorientated. I couldn't work out which direction the ceiling should be in and I felt slightly nauseous. On top of that, my legs seemed to have gone to sleep. Damn it, I shouldn't have drunk so much last night. I usually managed to sneak back into the house before my father noticed my absence, but I had a feeling that whatever I did last night would have attracted his attention. I could almost hear his voice, telling me that I was no better than the servants are, and did I ever want to make a decent marriage, or would I rather end up as a drab in one of the taverns in town.

I groaned a little, and tried to settle my stomach before attempting to open my eyes, a challenge considering the previous evening. I often attended celebrations in the servants quarters, enjoying their lack of mannerisms and artificiality. It had taken time for them to feel comfortable with my presence, but many of them have known me since I was a small girl, and now at nineteen, I felt the need to rebel against my father's demands that I become a proper mistress of the house, just for a little while at least. They seemed to sympathise. So why was last night different? I remembered drinking a few cups of that evil punch the cook brews, and dancing with the stable lads, and cuddling the various babies before they were put to bed, but after that it's all a blank.

It's no good, I can't quell this swaying motion in my gut. I'm going to open my eyes, and get ready to face my father.

One, two, three. Daylight. Bright, white, harsh light, unfiltered by the curtains that should hang at my bedchamber window. Above me I should be looking at my bed canopy, with its embroidered leaves with small creatures nestling amongst them, but instead I could see dark wood, barely an armspan above me. My feeling of nausea deepened. Something was terribly wrong, and I could feel my stomach lurching with more than just the effects of too much rum punch. I couldn't move my arms and legs, and it slowly dawned on me that they were tied to the railing that borders this narrow bunk. This couldn't be someone's idea of a joke, could it? None of the servants would dare even with the familiarity I encouraged, and none of my peers had the nonce to stage a prank greater than hiding my needlework.

I turned my head to look around me. Oh sweet merciful God. Suddenly I was terribly sober, and I knew why my stomach had been rolling and churning. I was in the cramped cabin of a seagoing ship, and it sailed underway in a brisk wind some way into the day, as best I could tell. I could see the tiny glazed windows, and now I realized I could smell the tar, wood and salt. Don't panic, stay calm, maybe there is a reason.

I couldn't stay calm. I fought the bonds, raising welts on my skin and twisting the skirt of my shift against my legs. Oh no. Where were my clothes? I was lying in yesterday's shift and my stays. I'm not completely innocent despite what my father would prefer. I listen to the servant girls, and I know what is what, but still, I've not been undressed by anyone but my maid since I was in swaddling bands, and the thought that perhaps my current indignity might include assault filled me with horror. I concentrated on my body, but apart from the discomfort of the bonds on wrist and ankle I thought I felt the same. I wasn't not sure whether to feel relieved or not.

I must have slept again after a while, for when I opened my eyes this time, a man stood above me, very close. Startled, I tried to pull away. But the bonds that held me prevented any movement. I forced myself to concentrate, it may not be fashionable for a woman to have a brain, but I chose to use mine.

He was tall, I could tell that much from the way his head almost brushed the top of the cabin, and he was healthy, skin tanned brown, eyes surprisingly blue, thick straight brows that twisted upwards just a little towards the outer end. His long dark hair tied at the back of his neck, several days of stubble. Strongly muscled chest, just visible through the neck of his moderately clean shirt. He smelled very male, not exactly unwashed, but clearly soap did not play a large part in his daily routine. He held a pewter cup, and the look on his face seemed almost amused, supremely confident.

"I'm glad to see you awake," he said. "No doubt you have realised your predicament, but if you co-operate we can make this a pleasant voyage for the both of us." There seemed to be a double meaning in his words. Momentarily I was embarrassed that I could not grasp the full meaning.

"Explain yourself, " I demanded. "Why am I here, and who are you to stand over me so insolently?"

He just laughed at me, and released one of the straps that secure my wrists. "Now now, you are in no position to make demands, though I could think of a few uses for the position you are in." He looked at me, his eyes lingered down my body.

Aware of his gaze taking in the heave of my breasts beneath the tight stays and the shape of my limbs beneath the thin shift, I blushed. Worse, I could feel a slight tingling between my legs and felt enraged that my own body should misinterpret what is so obviously a dangerous situation.

My hand pulled free, and instinctively I slapped at his face, marvelling at the sound as my palm connects with his cheek. "How dare you." I spluttered ineffectually, but my rage was cut short by his reaction, as his free hand pinned mine to the bed behind my head, and his face, so close to mine became deadly serious.

"Miss, you have no idea how far I dare. This is my ship, and you are my captive, and until you are safely sold to the buyer I have arranged for you, you will do exactly what I tell you to. Do you understand that there are far worse things than my attentions on this voyage?"

Stunned, I could only nod, though my mind raced with the implication of what he had said. I was on a pirate ship, and the worst kind, a slaver! One that stole women to order. I'd heard tales, but never quite believed them until now. My eyes fixed on the cup that was still miraculously in his hand, my mouth felt thick and my tongue dry. He offered me a sip, forcing me to co-ordinate my own movements with his own in order to drink the sharp wine. It's taste was good, and it cleared my mouth.

"What do you plan with me?" I managed to ask.

"We have a few days on this voyage," he released my arm, and I realised that for the moment the fight has gone out of me. "You will behave as I tell you, and if you do, you may enjoy some privileges such as fresh air and exercise. At the end of the voyage, you go to a new master and I pocket a substantial fee. Should you defy me, then the crew can have you for all I care, the contract I have for you neglects to mention whether your state should be virginal on arrival." He paused for a moment, clearly enjoying the look of horror on my face. "Of course, I presume that you are in fact, intact? Or is that too indelicate a question for such a refined miss as yourself?"

Before I could react his hand slithered under the hem of my shift, I could feel the callused palm against my calves, tracing the muscle there, then moving onto the softer skin of my thigh. I pressed my legs together as tightly as I could, but the bonds restrained me, and all I could do with my free hand was to clutch at his shoulder and writhe beneath his touch. Surprisingly, even though I recoiled from him, the eyes fixed on my face were not entirely cruel. Even though I was aware of my own terror, I was concious that the physical contact between us was having an effect on him as well. I couldn't interpret the rapidly changing expressions I saw flickering across his face, though he tried to remain impassive.

His fingers kneaded the soft flesh of my thigh, and lightly brushed the soft curls of hair at the join. Despite myself, I gasped, though I also pleaded with him to stop. Surprisingly gentle his fingers traced my hidden contours, and I was reminded of the nights when alone in my bed I'd explored myself with a guilty urgency, unsure as to whether my actions were normal or shameful, but only knowing a needing that must be relieved. One finger touched that small hard place of pleasure, and I shamed myself by responding. I was desperately thankful that the stays prevented him from seeing how my nipples reacted to his touch.

His expression softened a shade, but remained suspicious until his probing fingers found my opening and discovered that its tightness was more than fear. Indeed, I was still intact and virginal. For a moment, his questing hand kneaded my bottom, and then the roving began again, and to my horror, his exploration included the tighter opening of my anus. My shock must have shown on my face, I knew of the attraction men had for the first opening from my eavesdropping, but I had no idea that there was any function of the other beyond the passing of waste.

My expression amused him, and he returned his hand briefly to my node, rubbing it sharply and making me gasp before he withdrew. "I must say you surprise me, miss," he said. "When I saw you dancing with the stable lads last night, I'd assumed you were accustomed to a roll in the hay, but you seem a little more genteel than I was given to believe. I'm going to untie you now, but be warned, any foolishness will be punished." He released my bonds, and I lay meekly, unsure what to do, still startled by that invading touch and the unfamiliar response it evoked in me.

"Get up," he said. "You should eat something, and perhaps take a turn on the deck to clear the last of the sleeping draught from your system."

I tried to stand, but the swaying of the ship and the numbness in my legs made me crumple as I tried. He caught me, holding me close in his strong arms, so I that must clutch him hard to support myself. I looked into his eyes, and found him staring back. My chest constricted, and my legs still would not support me. I was both terrified and exhilarated at the same time. Plus, I was excruciatingly conscious of the feel of his body pressed against mine as he supported me.

Slowly the feeling returned to my legs, but I could not take my eyes from his. I knew that this man had snatched me from my home, drugged me, bound me and violated me, but he had also awakened sensations that I'd only suspected, and my love of adventure battled with my fear of the fate he had described for me.

He moved his face just a fraction towards me, and hesitated, a half smile playing over his softly chiselled mouth. I could not tear my gaze away, then before I knew it, he swooped and kissed me, with an surprisingly tender restraint. I gasped, and he took advantage of my parted lips to kiss more deeply.

I should have fought, I knew I should've, but something inside me that had hungered for so long was awakene now. I felt myself tentatively open to his kiss. The arms that I'd wrapped around him to support myself were suddenly more interested in exploring the finely drawn muscles of his back, and I realised that I'd regained control of my legs again.

With that control came an awareness of his thighs pressed against mine. His masculinity demonstrated itself by the hot swelling in his breeches, now pressed hard against my own crotch through the thin linen of my shift. Realisation dawned, and I tried to struggle free. Horrified at my own audacity and at the response he elicited in my rebellious body, I was ashamed at the wetness between my legs. More to the point, I was confused by my reaction to this dangerous pirate.

I pulled loose of my bonds and fought my way across the cabin. I pulled open the hatch door, reeling as the sunlight hit my face. Staggering through I found myself on deck, and immediately realised the greater danger as the crew surrounded me.

"Oho, Captain" one shouted to the open door behind me. "Have you tired of this one already, is she a present for us by chance?"

I whirled and turned, trying to find somewhere to run to, but the captain emerged from the cabin behind me and with a few swift steps caught my arm up behind my back, not quite as painfully as I might have thought, and he whispered urgently in my ear. "You stupid girl, do you not know that a pirate captain rules by example? Had you but stayed below with me you might have learnt a trick or two to take to your new life, but now I must offer the crew something or they will leave you precious little."

He turned to his crew. I could see a crafty smile slide across his face. "She is a pretty piece is she not? But I think she needs a little taming before I break her properly for her new master. Will you help me boys?"

There was a resounding chorus from more men than I realised were on board, making my blood run cold.

The terror came back. I'd thought I was scared before, but this time I paled at his inhuman response. I couldn't fully imagine what he had planned for me; however, the previous prospect of a relatively private seduction by a pirate captain now seemed very desirable indeed. Strong hands surrounded me from every direction, and once again my arms were bound, this time above my head with thick, tarred rope to the rigging that laces the ship like so many spiderwebs. I could see over the side to the vast expanse of blue sea, and for the first time I truly realised that no one would be coming to my aid. I was no longer under my father's protection, and my only chances lay in my own responses to the situation.

A cold touch of steel along my spine made me shudder, and I realised that my stays were being cut from me, and my shift slit with it. Though the thin garment still largely covered me I could feel the breeze and hot sunlight on my spine and buttocks, and realised that my back and rump was on full display to the assembled men.

"Bring out the cat" the captain commanded, and a low chuckle from the sailors made me quake with fear. "Bring it here, let me show it to her."

He walked round towards me so that I could see the object he brought. At first glance it was a lash, much as I have seen used on the slave plantations, but this had slim, leather thongs with frayed ends, all attached to a polished, gnarled handle. "Look at it" he commanded me, and my eyes widened as I realised what the carved handle represented. It was a thick, curved phallus; polished smooth and blunted at its somewhat pointed tip.

"Do as you're told," he murmured. "And I'll save you from the worst."

I was so terrified, I could not imagine what could be worse.

"Open your mouth," he loudly ordered me. "Let the boys see how you love the cat-o-nine-tails."

Deliberately he thrust the carved phallus into my mouth, forcing my head back so they could all see my throat work as the obscene carving slipped back and forth. There were a few catcalls, but I felt the tension change in the air. Suddenly it was withdrawn, slippery with my saliva, and the captain disappeared from my view again. Behind my back, I could feel the torn fabric of my shift being parted so that my back and arse were clearly displayed, then the carved head of the whip was thrust between my legs, but lightly, just skimming the places his hands had explored so impudently a little while ago.

Unsure how to move away, I arched my back, and the sharp intake of breath from the men as the carved handle was withdrawn told me that my involuntary movement displayed far more to them than I'd wished. The tension felt unbearable. What was going to happen? Suddenly the crack of the whip sounded, and I felt the lash cut cross my back and buttocks. Though the blow was not hard, it stung abominably, and I twisted against my bonds to try to wriggle away. Again, the lash flicked me, forcing me to hold a steady posture, every time I tried to move away it caught me in a different area, and I knew he was playing me, using the lightest of beatings to make me writhe as a game rather than break the skin. I dared not cry out, but I hung my head, and caught a glimpse of the men ranged behind me. To my horror, many had their trousers undone, and were stroking their pulsing organs as they watch my humiliation.

I feared the possibility of a gang rape, but even as the thought crossed my mind, I became ashamed anew at the surge of wetness that betrayed my body. The captain seemed aware of this. The tip of the cat was again pushed between my legs, and rubbed back and forth against my body, so that all could see my slippery juices anointing it. I wanted to die of shame, but I was unprepared for what happened next.

"We've got a bona fide virgin here boys," the captain announces, "now, I've got a good buyer for her, so I don't want her messed up too bad, but I promised you a share, and you'll get your show tonight."

Now there were howls and cat-calls from the men.

"A virgin is a rarity on ship here, so which shall the cat take for its collection tonight? That pretty pussy or the tighter passage?"

I realised I was to have my virginity sacrificed for the gratification of the on looking men.

There must have been signalling behind my back, for the next thing I knew a barrel had been rolled alongside of me. Then I was laid stomach down across it. They spread my legs wide, but at that moment I panicked, struggling wildly, screaming and thrashing until someone hit me on the side of the head. I decided to lay still again. Strong hands held my legs apart, baring my tender parts to full view, and once again the carved head of the cat o nine tails was rubbed, almost tenderly against my cunny, coating it with slippery lubrication.

"Are you ready, boys?" the captain called, and, in an undertone, he whispered to me to relax and not resist.

Rigid with fear, I tried to comply, but the slick wooden head of the cat was so large, and the tight pucker of my anus so small that I could not believe what he attempted was even possible. His hand slipped around to finger my clitoris, and despite my predicament my body responded, arching back against him just a little, and allowing the head to penetrate my tight rim. In anguish I cried out, but his probing fingers silently warned me to be calm, and slowly the sphincter muscles relaxed around the monstrous carved phallus.

Hanging there, semi suspended and fully displayed, he gave me time to become somewhat accustomed to the stretching girth, whilst I tried to calm my breathing and listened to the panting of a crew all handling themselves as they watched my torture. "Usual rules apply" he called to them, "You can trade in your share of the cash for a turn with her, or we can leave her with the memory of the cat here to warm her in the lonely nights ahead. What'll it be?"

I really expected them to leave me be. I believed the captain when he said he'd save me from the worst, but one sailor decided to take his share in flesh. I heard his walk across the deck towards me, and heard a whispered exchange between him and the Captain. Then a new set of hands is upon me, squeezing and parting my buttocks, then withdrawing the cat to leave my anus pink and slightly gaping before the gaze of the men. I heard the new man spit on his hand, and rub me with the saliva, and though I tried to recoil I could not break free to drag myself away.

Now there was a novel warmth bristling at my opening, unlike the rigidity of the cat this was living flesh, and I became aware of a man positioning himself behind me. With a sudden thrust, my anus was afire with pain as the sailor rammed much of his length inside me. I could feel the coarse hair of his balls rasping against me; yet my cunny was wetter than ever. He held my hips, pulling my body hard against his own, forcing himself deeper inside me.

"So tight," he grunted under his breath. "That cook was a fool not to take this for himself before he handed you over, this is worth far more than the share I would have got from your sale."
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