A virgin on a pirate ship is unlikely to last long, but Siobhan disguised herself as a young man to escape poverty and tedium. When Captain Sebastian Rackham confronts her about her secret, he offers her a deal to keep her safe and still sailing: she must become his property in every way. Little does she ...
A virgin on a pirate ship is unlikely to last long, but Siobhan disguised herself as a young man to escape poverty and tedium. When Captain Sebastian Rackham confronts her about her secret, he offers her a deal to keep her safe and still sailing: she must become his property in every way. Little does she know exactly how demanding her captain can be.
Warning: This Caribbean pirate story involves bondage, a well-ravished virgin, oral sex, naughty bathtime, and a sexy captain.
A pitcher of warm water pouring over her hair made Siobhan open her eyes again. The captain had stripped off his coat and had his sleeves rolled up. He was kneeling beside the bath and looked quite pleased with himself.
“I can wash my own hair,” she said as she crossed her arms over her chest.
He glanced toward her face with a look of amusement. “Perhaps. I've never been a man to not take care of what's mine, though.”
His. She was his property now. In exchange for safety and some unspecified amount of wealth, she was a possession. Yet whatever anger she might have felt at being reduced to an object to be cared for evaporated when his fingers worked through her hair, lathering bubbles into her scalp.
In spite of herself, she closed her eyes again, melting against the side of the tub. His fingers thoroughly massaged over her skull, sending pleasant shudders down her spine when they teased behind her earlobes and then worked down to the base of her skull. No one had washed her hair for her since she was a little girl. Having this beautiful man do it now was confusing, as she felt the safety and trust of childhood with the erotic knowledge that she was a grown woman being bathed and controlled by a powerful man. His fingers slowly combed through the length of her hair, sliding through every lock and likely washing it more thoroughly than she had ever bothered. When he was satisfied with that he poured several more pitchers of water over her hair, rinsing it clean.
She opened her eyes a slit to look over at him, wondering if he'd abandon her now to finish her bath alone. He was rubbing a bar of soap against a washcloth in his hand and the smell of roses wafted from the soap. The captain certainly never smelled like flowers, which made her wonder. Had he found that soap just for her? Had he been planning this?
“What are you doing?” Siobhan asked.
“I told you. I care for what's mine.” He set the soap aside and leaned in towards her, working the washcloth up one of her exposed thighs and making her gasp.
Lilith T. Bell always dreamed of becoming a writer and in 2012 she finished her first novel. Almost immediately afterward, she became deathly ill. Then her house burned down. As if in some Job-like drama, she lost nearly every word she had ever written.
Undaunted--and perhaps taunting angry gods--she continues to write.
Today, Bell lives in the northwoods of the Midwest with her cat and travels frequently.