Rescued by the Buccaneer Read online

  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.

  “No!” she shrieked involuntarily and struggled to get up.

  “Frederica!” he said sharply. “Stop it this instant.”

  “But—”

  “Frederica, do you trust me or not?”

  She steeled herself. “Yes, Master. I’m sorry.”

  “Can you behave?”

  “Yes, Master,” she whined.

  “Good. See that you do.”

  His erection pressed against her again, and she felt him position himself at the very edge of her opening. Then something wet invaded her ass, giving her an uncomfortably full feeling. She squirmed and tried to look back over her shoulder, curious what it was.

  “Relax,” he said.

  After he said that, she tried her best to hold still. The object, which she guessed was his finger, moved slowly inside her, then slowly retreated. At first her bottom rejected the intrusion, but after a few minutes, she found the sensation became pleasurable as her hole stretched to accommodate him moving inside her.

  The carnal desire inside of her built and built until the heat between her legs felt ready to ignite. She wanted nothing more than for him to fill her, plant his pole inside her, and transport her body to that state of bliss he’d so recently introduced her to.

  “Please,” she whimpered.

  “What was that?” he asked, pretending not to hear.

  “Please,” she spoke slightly louder.

  “What is it you want, my dear?” his voice was hoarse with a lust of his own.

  “I want to feel you inside me,” she admitted.

  He continued to tantalize her, tracing the edges of her wet little slit with the head of his cock. The tip rubbed relentlessly against her clit, making her cry out, “Please, Master!”

  He stroked her hair. “You have been a good girl.” Then he shoved inside her pussy with a force that surprised her. His cock had already been coated in her juices, so the full length invaded her upon the first plunge. She caught her breath and realized that if she hadn’t already been on the ground, he might have knocked her over.

  He clutched her hips and thrust hard into her. She felt the end of him tap her cervix, and her muscles clamped down on him. The way he took her from behind, like an animal, stirred new feelings inside her, making her feel a part of something as old as time itself.

  He poured his passion into her, pumping his hips, bringing her closer to exploding with each motion. Then he reached around and pinched her clit, rubbing it between his fingers. The sensation was at the same time intense and heavenly, and she felt herself falling away into the ecstasy.

  “That’s it. Let go and come for me,” he growled.

  With a primal shudder, she allowed her body the release it craved. Behind closed eyes, bright glittery colors flashed before her, a kaleidoscope of ecstasy, courtesy of her lover. She twitched and groaned, wishing she could hold him close but restricted by her bonds. He pushed into her a few more times before he spilled into her well-loved channel.

  Later, when untying her wrists, he asked, “So, are you glad you trusted me?”

  “Yes, Master.” With free hands she reached up and clutched him to her, kissing him with the vigor of a well-satisfied woman.

  They collapsed in each other’s arms, spent. Within minutes, Gaston was snoring. Contented, she curved her body to fit his and drifted off.

  * * *

  Frederica had followed Gaston’s directions, and the afternoon project had come together quickly. His ability to assemble a refuge from the hodgepodge of materials lying around impressed her. The man was full of surprises.

  That evening the wind gusted and the rain came down in thick sheets. Frederica and Gaston sat under the canopy of their new shelter. Huddling next to him, she was immensely relieved they’d finished the shelter before the storm came in. The sound of thunder had awakened them and they had both bolted upright.

  Gaston draped his arm around her, hugging her close, and she cherished the feeling of having someone protect her. For months she’d had no one to rely on but herself, so it was a huge relief to be able to share some of her burdens with another person. She had been without that since she’d lost Cassandra.

  They watched lightning flit across the sky, illuminating the beach seconds before each clap of thunder.

  “Gaston?” Her heart beat faster.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s nice being here with you.” She burrowed her head under his chin.

  “Yes, it is.”

  They were silent for a while, immersed in their roles as spectators of nature’s theater. The constant pattering of the rain lulled them into a relaxed state.

  “Gaston, what will we do now? Wait for a ship to come by and rescue us?”

  “I don’t know yet. Now that we’ve gotten our basic needs met, food, water, shelter… Tomorrow I will begin formulating a plan. For now, we have everything we need.”

  He leaned down and kissed her, his lips overlapping hers. She shifted in his arms, opening herself up to him. When she finally pulled away, she asked tentatively, “Gaston, do you have a wife?”

  He shifted his weight slightly away from her. “I did.”

  “You did? What does that mean?”

  “It means she died.” His voice took on a more formal tone, the intimacy they’d shared a moment ago having vanished.

  She leaned back to see his face, but she could scarcely make it out in the dark, the downpour having doused the firelight. “That’s terrible. How did she die?”

  “Childbirth. You ask an awful lot of questions.”

  “I’m sorry. I was just curious. What about the child?”

  “A boy. He died along with her.” He shook his head. “It was a long time ago.”

  “Is that why you became a pirate?”

  “Yes, in part.”

  She considered this. “I know it’s not the same thing, but I lost my best friend when Humphrey attacked our ship.”

  He nodded.

  She picked up a stick and began drawing imaginary shapes on the shelter’s bamboo floor. “I blame myself for her death every day.”

  “That’s ridiculous. It wasn’t your fault.” She could hear the scowl in his voice.

  “Perhaps, but if it weren’t for me, she would have never been on that ship.”

  He took a deep breath but remained silent.

  “Do you ever feel guilty? That you’re alive, I mean, and she’s dead?” Her heart lurched at the possibility that he might understand the burden she lived with every waking moment.

  “Guilt is not a luxury I afford myself, Frederica.”

  A sinking feeling filled her stomach. “But, do you know what I mean?”

  He drew her close to him and whispered into her hair, “Yes I do, my dear. Unfortunately, I do.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next morning they awoke to soggy surroundings, but the sun shone brightly, promising to dry up the beach in short order. Gaston provided another fish breakfast, this time with one large fish they split between them. After they ate, he went to find some coconuts. Not far into the jungle, he saw something that stopped him cold.

  Footprints in the sand. The prints were fresh, definitely occurring after the rain of the previous night. They looked to be human and not belonging to him or Frederica.

  They were not alone on the island. Whether this revelation was good or bad news remained to be seen. In any case, he needed to investigate further. If the owner of the phantom footprints belonged to an unfriendly sort or if they were outnumbered, he and Frederica could be in grave danger.

  Without any weapons to speak of, Gaston worried how he would be able to protect himself, much less defend Frederica. He needed to get to the bottom of the situation as soon as possible. Not wanting to leave Frederica on the beach alone, he invited her to explore the island with him. She eagerly agreed and they hiked into the jungle.

  He couldn’t be certain how Frederica would respond to his having found evidence of other humans on the island, so he kept the information to himself. No sense getting her all worked up, at least not until he obtained a broader knowledge of the situation.

  He followed the tracks without mentioning them to her, and she didn’t seem to notice them. About two miles into the jungle, he lost them. The foliage had grown too thick and the jungle floor was littered with plant debris. He thought of a member of his crew who possessed tremendous tracking skills and wished the man were here. His own tracking skills were average at best.

  Since he’d lost the trail of whomever’s footsteps he was tracing, he decided to try to find the pinnacle of the waterfall he’d discovered. It should be a fairly high place, and perhaps he’d have a better vantage point over the island to be able to get a feel for the geography of it.

  They trudged through the abundant vegetation, and Gaston swept aside vines so Frederica could pass unhindered. An appreciative smile spread across her face, and he recalled their conversation the night before. She’d brought up the subject of his wife, something he had not discussed with anyone since he left the Carolinas. He kept that side of himself locked away, but somehow Frederica had a key to the deep, dark puzzle pieces that made up his heart—the parts he tucked away and repressed. Be it guilt over making his wife pregnant, which killed her, or lust in the form of domination and his more deviant appetites, Frederica seemed to understand him. And this was something he’d never experienced before. The connection between them was electric, and it was intensifying all the time.

  When they grew thirsty, they shared the last of the rum, and Gaston vowed to fill the flask with fresh water at the next source they came upon. He wished he’d thought of it the last time they’d been at the grotto, but he’d forgotten.

  It wasn’t like him to make a mistake like that, but in his defense, the lovely Frederica was a distraction. His brain had not been right in several days. He wondered if he would wind up like most men—undone by a beautiful woman. He shook off the idea, telling himself it was probably the hunger and the thirst that had his brain addled. Too many days in the sun with no relief. Straightening his waistcoat, Gaston assured himself the oversight had nothing to do with the woman who was quickly ensnaring his heart.

  They followed an uneven path, but Frederica did not complain, even though her bare feet suffered a few minor cuts and scrapes. After a couple of hours, they heard the faint sound of rushing water and Gaston hoped they might be close to the top of the ridge.

  “Stay here,” he said, holding her back with his forearm. She stopped, and he felt a thrill at her obedience. He moved closer to the coursing rivulet. The gentle appearance of the rapids was deceptive; the sparkling water tumbled over the rocks at a swift pace. He made a point to fill the flask with fresh water before he forgot a second time.

  “Come, Frederica,” he called over his shoulder.

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