Blushing at Both Ends (31 page)

‘Oww!' protested the surprised girl. ‘Charles! Stop it! I've done nothing wrong! Why are you spanking me?'

‘Oh, chiefly for the fun of it, my sweet,' he retorted, happily smacking her plump soft mounds until they blushed pinker than the Caribbean dawn that was breaking outside the porthole. ‘Though for a few other reasons as well. To wit, because you're an exceedingly spoilt young woman who deserves henceforth to be soundly spanked at least once a day – and, whenever possible, more often than that. Because you have such a lovely deliciously spankable bottom. Because I thoroughly enjoy it. And because, my wilful darling, I rather suspect that you do too.'

‘Oww! You brute! No I don't!' Isabel cried indignantly. But, when at last he released her, her passionate embrace told a different story.

A hour or two later, the galleon's longboat beached in the same bay Isabel had left barely twenty-four hours before. Charles and Isabel, the sole passengers, disembarked while the bald giant Jem rested on his oars and grinned at them. ‘Hope you wasn't too uncomfortable, m'lady, a-settin' on these hard seats.' He chortled.

Isabel blushed. The boat's wooden seat had indeed reminded her very tangibly that she was sitting on a bottom still rosy and tender from her most recent
spanking
. Her uneasy shiftings, it seemed, had been more evident than she thought.

‘Enough of your impudence, Jem,' ordered Charles, pushing off the boat. ‘Get yourself back to the ship. I'll signal you later.'

‘Aye, Cap'n,' said Jem, and rowed off singing cheerily to himself. The words were none too clear, but they seemed to be his own personal version of the old ballad ‘Cherry Ripe'.

Charles laughed. ‘A rough fellow, but good hearted,' he observed, and led the way along the beach, in the opposite direction to the Abercrombies' villa.

‘Where are we going?' enquired Isabel. ‘Do you not risk being captured?'

‘Oh, I think I may hazard that for your sake, my sweet,' said Charles carelessly. ‘As for where we are bound, you'll learn that soon enough.'

At the far end of the beach a path led through the trees. In a few moments a fine colonial villa with a pillared portico came in view. Showing no caution, Charles marched up to the front door and entered boldly. Bewildered, Isabel followed at his heels.

They found themselves in a spacious hall, flagged with black-and-white tiles. A grand double staircase curved before them. No one was to be seen.

‘Hullo there!' called Charles, setting the echoes ringing. ‘Is nobody at home, dammit?'

In response, a portly middle-aged woman came bustling out of a doorway. ‘Why, there you are, Master Henry!' she exclaimed. ‘A fine time to be off playing your pirate games, with the whole island in an uproar! Lady Isabel Abercrombie has vanished – kidnapped, it's feared! And who, may I ask, is this young lady?'

But Isabel was staring open-mouthed at her companion. ‘Henry? But you said you were –'

‘Charles? Why, so I am, my love.' He made her a low bow. ‘Charles Henry Trevelyan at your service, my lady.
This
is Martha, our trusty housekeeper. And Martha, this is – or, rather, was – Lady Isabel Abercrombie.'

‘Was? What on earth do you mean, Master Henry?'

‘What I mean, Martha, is that she is now, and has been since yesterday, Lady Isabel Trevelyan – my wedded wife.'

‘Your wife?' Martha's jaw dropped. ‘Master Henry, if this is another of your pranks . . . Oh my Lord sake's, I must tell the mistress!' She turned to go, then dropped Isabel a flustered curtsey. ‘Begging your pardon, m'lady – if you really are m'lady, that is – oh, mercy me!' She scuttled off calling frantically, ‘Madam! Madam!'

Grinning, Charles turned to confront Isabel's furious glare. ‘Disappointed, my sweet?' he enquired.

‘You tricked me, you – you mountebank!'

‘True, so I did. But since it seemed you were loath to accept a ‘‘pasty-faced tongue-tied youth of no distinction whatever'', or indeed an ‘‘excellent businessman'', for your husband, I thought you might find a pirate chieftain more to your taste. For you must admit, my sweet, that our nuptials were anything but dull – as, I hope you'll agree, was our wedding night.'

To her annoyance, Isabel found herself blushing.

‘I see you concur, my love. Well then, I trust you'll believe me that I intend our life together to continue as it's begun. No less romantic, no less exciting, no less filled with love and adventure. But, if you doubt me, sweet Isabel, then your freedom is yours to take this instant.'

He smiled winningly at her. But there was a note of unease in his voice that made her realise he genuinely feared to lose her, and it was that hint of uncertainty that won the day for him. Besides, he was without question devilishly handsome. Still, she could not resist the chance of coquetry. So she kept him on tenterhooks for several moments before saying, ‘Very well, then, I agree – but on three conditions.'

‘And they are?'

‘First, that henceforth you will always be known as Charles.'

‘Agreed.'

‘Second, that I shall be far less a businessman's wife than a pirate's bride.'

‘Agreed.'

‘And third that, as pirate or businessman alike, you faithfully keep the promise you made me.'

‘Which promise was that?'

The sound of approaching agitated voices could be heard. She leant forwards and whispered in his ear.

He laughed delightedly. ‘Agreed, with all my heart!' he cried, and embraced her warmly just as his mother and father and a gaggle of excited servants poured into the hall.

A second wedding followed hard on these events – a rather more formal affair, with a genuine bishop officiating – followed in turn by a long and happy marriage. Not least of the sources of their happiness was that Charles Trevelyan faithfully observed the promise made by the pirate to his bride: that Lady Isabel, that lovely and exceedingly spoilt young woman, should henceforth be soundly spanked at least once a day. And, whenever possible, more often than that.

Acknowledgements

Some of these stories originally appeared in
Janus
,
Februs
,
Privilege Club
,
Stand Corrected
and on the Shadow Lane website.

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This book is a work of fiction.

In real life, make sure you practise safe, sane and consensual sex.

First published in 2008 by

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This edition published 2012 by Ebury Digital

Copyright © Philip Kemp 2008

Lyrics to the song ‘Itsy-bitsy Teeny-weeny Yellow Polka-dot Bikini', reproduced
here
, © Paul Vance & Lee Pockriss 1960.

The right of Philip Kemp to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

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All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental
.

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