Rescued by the Buccaneer (12 page)

He positioned himself behind her and walked his fingers down her bush until he found the sweet spot between her legs. Fondling her clit, he nibbled her earlobe, eliciting a sigh of pleasure from her lips.

“While I’m gone, I want you to play with your little cunt,” he growled into her ear.

She gasped, her spine stiffening.

“Fuck it with your hand. Explore the inside walls. Stroke that clit, roll it between your fingers. Find out what gives you pleasure, my dear. Get to know that delightful body of yours.”

Frederica felt her face turn crimson. She’d fiddled with that part of herself on occasion before, but she’d never shared such acts with anyone, and it embarrassed her to discuss such matters aloud.

He released her with a wink. “Do it, girl. If you disobey me, I’ll know.” With that he disappeared into the waves.

She sat down hard on the sand and slumped forward. The bastard had aroused her and left her panting like a dog in season. Yet, he’d given her a task. A task that, now in her lust-filled state, didn’t seem as terrible as it had a few moments ago.

Gaston waded out among the waves, intent on catching their breakfast. He had not glanced back at her since he left. Her sex throbbed with yearning. He wasn’t watching. She had no reason to be ashamed, or at least, she tried to convince herself of this.

And there was the issue of him commanding her to do it. She pondered what he would do if she did not comply. That wretched spanking flooded her consciousness. She wasn’t sure how he would know, but she believed him when he said he would.

With his pleasure in mind, she leaned back and trailed her hand under her skirt, keeping an eye on Gaston. In the distance, she could still make out the outline of his muscular frame. Thinking of what he had done to her the day before, she unfurled her fingers and began playing with her pussy. Starting with long strokes, she tried several techniques Gaston had suggested. In no time her hand was wet with her juices.

Inserting a finger, her sore little channel complained at first, but with further stimulation, the intrusion felt good. She scooted closer to the palm trees and rested her back on one. Then she traced her southernmost lips, teasing her tender bud, drawing circles around it, sending her arousal into the stratosphere.

Shutting her eyes, she pictured Gaston’s face—his devilish grin, sexy eye-patch, and dashing dreadlocks. Sounds from last night’s tryst replaying in her ear, she threw her head back and rubbed herself into a delicious, trembling orgasm.

When she came back to earth, she half-opened her eyes and took in the beauty of the waves crashing against the shore. A sultry breeze rolled in from the ocean and she giggled softly, hugging her knees to her chest. Her body had become a source of infinite joy, and she had Gaston to thank for that. He made her giddy as a child with a new puppy. Only she wasn’t a child anymore, and these were definitely adult pleasures.

As difficult as it was for her to believe, she was the happiest she’d ever been, here, marooned on this island. A week ago she’d been Humphrey’s captive. But now, for the first time since the
Adelaide
had been attacked, she had something to look forward to and hope for the future. With any luck, her future would include melting into the arms of the dashing pirate who’d rescued her.

Gaston slogged towards her through the deep sand. His net appeared heavier, hopefully because there was something in it. He looked incredibly dashing, dripping wet and working hard to provide for them. From the rise and fall of his sculpted chest, she could see that he was breathing hard. A quiver of desire passed over her and she felt her nipples grow hard. She could not get enough of him. Setting her fantasies aside, she stood up and met him at the fire.

“Falling down on your job, eh?” he asked.

“You gave me two jobs,” she said saucily.

He sighed. “Right you are.” When he set the net on the sand, three hand-sized fish flopped around inside the tangle of rope.

Turning his attention to her, he asked, “What hand do you write with?”

“I always preferred my left, but my governess insisted I use my right, so I’m rather good with both.”

Taking her left hand, he sucked her fingers into his mouth, lolling his tongue around them, tasting her juices.

Her stomach fluttered and she felt unsteady on her feet. Oh, that he would take her right here on this bed of sand…

“Good girl. If you do as I ask, Frederica, you will be rewarded.” He kissed the top of her hand and let it go, then picked up one of the fish and proceeded to clean it.

“And if I don’t?” Her tone was light.

“There will be consequences.” He didn’t look up from the fish he was deboning.

“What sort of consequences?” she pushed.

He sighed. “Freddie, there can only be one leader here. That is me. I will make the decisions, and that is that.”

“But I don’t understand. You said you would free me…”

He stared at her hard. “If that is what you wish, so be it,” he said and went back to work.

“No, it’s not that.” She fumbled for the words. “I guess I thought… Never mind. I’m sorry.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she plopped back onto the sand. Just when she thought they were of like minds. But she was no expert on relationships between men and women. She’d barely even flirted with boys in the past.

When her mother had been alive, she and her father seemed happy. Actually, more like contented. Frederica couldn’t imagine them enjoying the kind of passion she experienced with Gaston. Her parents were way too proper to have engaged in the sex act with as much abandon as Gaston had shown her.

She shook her head. Her mother
did
defer to her father most of the time, but Frederica was more independent than her mother had been. But it seemed that if she wanted her affair with Gaston to continue, she would have to play by his rules. She watched him, squatting over the fish with his back to her, giving her a prime view of his perfectly rounded buttocks straining against his britches.

Perhaps she could give it a try.

Chapter Thirteen

Flames licked the air, roasting the fish Gaston had caught. With a few coconuts, the fish made for a good breakfast, enough to almost make them forget they had barely eaten for the past several days.

When they finished eating, Gaston announced they needed to build a shelter. He asked Frederica to gather as many palm fronds as she could find. The smaller ones could be used for the fire, and the larger ones could be used to make the shelter.

Far out at sea, the sky looked ominous, as if a storm were brewing. It might pass them by, or they might be in for a deluge. Liking the idea of a dry cover, she headed into the jungle to fetch the materials they would need.

“And if you see any string or rope, bring that,” Gaston called.

“Alright.”

She spent the morning bringing palm fronds and any large sticks she found back to the beach. Stopping to take a break, she saw Gaston hauling a large tree branch out of the woods. The muscles in his back flexed as he worked. He was intently focused on the job at hand and didn’t seem to notice her watching him.

Suddenly, it occurred to her that without Gaston here to guide her, she would still be hungry. She wasn’t sure she would have been able to find water on her own either. She felt a rush of gratitude towards him as she realized she would have been lost without him.

Gaston came over and showed her how to weave the palm fronds together. The result would be a woven makeshift tarp that would serve as the roof for their shelter. She sat in the shade and worked on the project for the better part of the afternoon. The rumbling in her stomach finally grew loud enough that she spoke up and told Gaston she was hungry.

“I’ll go catch some fish. Tend the fire while I’m gone.” He touched her chin briefly then gathered his fishing gear and walked barefoot into the sea.

Though her hands were tired and achy and her fingers nicked by the rough edges of the husks and leaves, she continued working. It was important to finish the task Gaston had given her because she didn’t want to disappoint him.

When he returned, he said, “You’re doing a nice job there, Frederica. Good girl.”

His words made her flush. Something about his praise touched a special place inside her and made her want to please him more and more.

Gaston cleaned and cooked four small fish. Famished, they ate without much conversation. When they finished eating, Gaston gave her a crooked smile and asked her to bring him the various pieces of rope they’d found discarded in the jungle.

She found the pile and carried it to him.

“We’ll need this for building the shelter, but first, I have another idea.” A wicked grin spread across his face.

“What are you up to?” She scrunched her nose at him.

“When Humphrey had you tied up on that ship, I desperately wanted to ravage you right then and there.”

“You did?”

He nodded. “I liked seeing you all tied up and helpless.”

“Really?”

He stood up and whispered in her ear, “I want to tie you up and do despicable things to you.”

He smelled of sweat and the sea breeze, and her breath caught in her throat. “Like what?”

He chuckled softly in her ear. “Would you like to find out?”

“Yes,” she said, trembling with anticipation.

“Yes, what?” he prodded.

“Yes, Master.” Uttering the words turned her on.

“Are you too sore from yesterday?” he asked. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“A little, but I’m alright.”

“Can you trust me, Frederica? You will have to…”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “How could I not? You saved my life, and now you’re keeping me alive here on this island.” She touched her lips to his. He invaded her mouth, his tongue darting in and out, a rehearsal of what she knew would come. “I trust you with my life.”

He tugged at her clothing and nibbled her ear, his beard tickling her lightly. He yanked off the gold chain she wore around her waist, and her skirt fell to the ground. Pulling her petticoats down, he watched as she lifted her shimmy over her head.

“So beautiful,” he said, gazing at her naked body. Cupping her breast in his hand, he knelt before her to suckle it. Fondling the other one, he glided his fingers over her nipples and they hardened under his touch. She tasted salt as his mouth ruthlessly captured hers, taking possession of what was his.

He picked up the rope, a gleam in his eye. “Turn around. I want your back to me.”

She obeyed, experiencing a jolt of nerves in her stomach.

“Hands behind you,” he said gruffly.

Taking her wrists, he wrapped them in the rope they’d found, probably washed ashore over the years, remnants from shipwrecks. He draped the rope around her wrists several times, binding them tight, but not uncomfortably so. Being bound like this was a completely different experience than it was on the ship when she’d been bound as a prisoner by strange men.
This
was a sensual experience. She felt as though, by binding her wrists together, he was binding her to him, and she was confident he would do her no harm.

“On your knees.” He held her elbow, supporting her as she sank to her knees.

Moving in front of her, he stroked his erect penis. Her mouth watered at the sight, and though she had no true frame of reference, she thought his must be of good size. It was difficult to imagine a larger one.

“Service me, wench, with that luscious mouth of yours,” he said, taking her head in his hands.

She licked her lips, then parted them, giving him access. His cock bobbed in her face and she reached her tongue out to lick him. He thrust his hips closer to her and she sucked the head into her mouth.

Running her tongue up and down the length of his shaft, she coated him with her saliva, making it easier for him to slide in and out of her mouth. She longed to clutch his buttocks, but that was impossible with her hands tied behind her back. A frustrated little yowl escaped her throat.

“What’s that?” he sounded amused. “How do you like your bondage?”

She bobbed her head slightly and emitted some agreeable garbled sounds.

He patted her atop the head as one would praise an adored pet. “Good girl.”

Something about his words made her pussy cream with delight.

Still hard, he withdrew from her mouth. “I want you to bend over with your bottom in the air, face down.”

She looked at him, confused. Did he want her to plant her face right in the sand?

Noticing her concern, he added, “Here, I’ll help you.” Holding her by the shoulders, he assisted her.

One cheek in the sand, her ass humiliatingly exposed, Frederica experienced a thrill mixed with apprehension. What would he do to her next?

She felt his wet, warm tongue licking at her sex, and she began to wiggle.

“Hold still!” he barked. “You will learn to be still and take whatever I give you.”

“Yes, Master.”

“That’s better.”
Thwack!
He smacked her rear end. The sting of his palm drowned out all other sensations.

“Sir, what did I do? Why are you spanking me?”

He ran a hand smoothly over her smarting bottom. The gentle caress felt so divine after the harsh blows, she melted into the sand.

“I’m going to give you a great deal of pleasure, my dear. But first you have to earn it.”

“Yes, sir.”

He moved to her other cheek, setting it on fire with several sharp staccato strikes.

She whimpered softly into the ground, hoping he wouldn’t hear them. If he did, he chose not to make an issue of it.

He gave her a few more whacks on her posterior, then brushed his hands over her hot, aching globes. She sighed with relief and relished the delicious strokes of his fingers across her bum. His silky caresses lulled her into a trancelike state, and she was awakened by his cock, insistently nudging at the opening to her cunt. She groaned, eager for him to enter her.

His cock rubbed up and down her folds, driving her more and more wild with desire. Then, to her surprise, he spread apart her bottom cheeks. She felt something at the entrance to her exit door.