"Sexy Sailors" By Frances La Gatta Copyright. D. Shaw 2002. The right of D.Shaw to be identified as the author of this book has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights and Patents Act 1988. A briny breeze ruffled Sky O'Keefe's sleek blonde mane as she caught her breath at the stern rail under the glow of a glorious red moon. Its trailing reflection upon the black velvet seas reminded her of millions of sparklers sizzling in the twilight. The captain's sudden towering presence beside her was exactly what she wanted and Sky could fairly feel his temper churning beneath his calm exterior like the pea green wake of his ship. He seemed born to wear the maritime cap of command upon his dark head, and his chiseled profile, which normally contained a charismatic smile alive with affection and delight, was a brooding mask of stone. Legs planted wide, hands clasped behind him; he simply stared out to sea as if weighing a forthcoming decision. Having left his naval blazer back at the dinning table, his rolled white cuffs and navy tie at half-mast were not the spit and polish image he generally projected. Yet, his frazzled look told her just how much her provocative dance with the petty officer had affected him. And since their love affair was a secret, there hadn't been a damn thing the high and mighty Captain Caleb Pennworth could do about it! He had to sit and watch and struggle to remain just as impassive as she had while all those flirtatious featherbrains vied for his attention. Whoever said payback was a bitch must have been a woman, Sky thought, smiling to herself. She would never stoop so low as to ask her lover for a commitment. Caleb had become too comfortable and content with the way things stood between them. And she knew exactly how to shake him up without a loss of her pride or dignity. Caleb ran a proud and efficient private luxury liner with a British Colombian crew and a cultural melting pot of employees who catered to the whims of the privileged few. Mold, in her opinion, on the upper crust. These rich and bored seafarers, who took most of the Majestic Bounty's bounties for granted, were interested in every detail about their illusive, utterly handsome captain. And they were a responsibility he never took lightly. But if he simply tipped his cap in passing to the bathing beauties lined on lounge chairs, their drooling fairly swabbed the sun decks behind him. Sky chanced a glance, catching Caleb as he briefly removed his hat to comb his fingers back through his thick black, silver-threaded hair. She shivered in remembrance of those elegant hands caressing her skin as skillfully as they maneuvered the ships wheel. He planted a polished shoe on a low rung and leaned his well-veined, slightly haired forearms over the railing. "I've really had it with your jealous snits," he finally said with a detached inevitability that made her wonder if her mutinous behavior had been overboard. How often did he remind her that their love had kept him sane? She had been deliberately driving Caleb insane and postponing his rather robust sexual appetites with inventive lies that would have made a tax attorney applaud. But she would ice-skate in hell before she would ever admit it to him. "Jealous snits?" She acted as cliché as the color of her hair. "If you meant to get my attention by dirty dancing with my petty officer--you did. Mister Shockley is probably off in his quarters polishing his brass over you." "Don't be crude." "Crude," he said, raising an incredulous brow. "Is only one adjective that describes your tit and ass shaking performance back in there. If you want to be treated like a lady, I wouldn't recommend flipping up your dress like some cheap dancehall floozy." "That was an accident!" she protested in earnest. "I tripped." "Well everyone onboard knows you're a true blonde now," he retorted. "And it was no accident that you made every gentleman under eighty and over twelve who prefers them hot and hard with that tango." Including him, she'd wager. "The tango happens to be a sensually expressive tribute to love." "I agree. But after your bump and grind peep show? You looked like a vertical expression of a horizontal idea planted firmly in the minds of men. Most especially the mind of my petty officer." "Oh?" she huffed. "Mrs. Merrywidow with the alligator bags under her eyes didn't exactly look as cold as her pearls when you waltzed her across the floor." Caleb's electric blue eyes soften with an amusement reserved only for her, and only when he was off duty, she reminded herself sourly. He rarely acknowledged her otherwise. "You know I'm required to dance with passengers that pay for the privilege of dinning at the captain's table." "I may not be able to dance with you, but there's no stupid ship rule saying I can't with whomever else I please. I am an aerobics instructor after all. Besides, I thought you loved the way I get them moving to the music in my classes." His arched both brows. "Oh, I do darlin'. But those moves were meant to be shared with me in the privacy of my stateroom. In fact... You can report there right now." Her pulse began to beat erratically at the threat in his deep voice. "And while you're waiting for me? Keep in mind how I'm going to take you over my knee, lift that sexy red number you're wearing--" He scanned her dress and fixed her with a steely stare. "Pull down those skimpy panties, and get your shapely bottom swinging to the very hard rhythm of my hand." She lifted her chin and met his gunmetal gaze point blank. "Well, screw you too, Cap'n Ahab," she sang in sweet defiance. "After your month long embargo? I'm sure you'll find Moby's rate of knots more vigorous than usual." The lively twinkle in his eye incensed her more. "If you end up sore from more than a spanking, you only have yourself to blame." "If you think for one minute I'll meekly allow you to spank me like some willful child and then," her flustered tongue stalled and she tossed her silky length of hair over her affronted shoulder. "Well, you can just stick your Moby where the sun doesn't shine." "Keep that up, and you'll be licking Irish Spring, too, Miss O'Keefe." "Of all the--" "And after I'm through spanking you? You'll be begging me to navigate into that uncharted, sunless region." He cut a look from her face to her bum. "I promise." His penetrating eyes set off an unwelcome and instant tingle of warm arousal, as if he had just touched her clitoris. "I told you, you're much too big to consider it," she feigned prudish indifference while her pulse picked up its pace. "I've a few ancient oriental secrets that will guarantee a comfortable passage. A little yang in your ying is not only overdo, but it'll certainly cure you of the nasty little bug you've had up there," he said lowly, and she could almost feel his warm breath on her ear with an image of his enormous penis poised at her threshold flashing her brain. "I will never submit to anything of the sort," she scoffed. He peered at her intently. "Yet you have no compunctions about doing the horizontal hip-hop with me and then locking your legs together with out-and-out lies, do you?" She deliberately shut out any awareness of him. "How dare you accuse me of being a liar!" "Reminding me of what I've been missing with a blatant threat to give it away to another was your biggest mistake." "You're the one who is mist--" "And your prick-teasing scheme to dangle it until I eventually consent to give you everything you want if you give me what I crave is what bought you a one way ticket over my knee." She lowered her lashes to escape his true blue stare. "I have no idea what you're talking about." He gripped her chin. "Look at me." His expression conveyed furious determination. "You're going to learn, even if the hard way, that my marriage to you will never work this way." "Marriage?" Her astonished voice squeaked awkwardly. "Tidewater runs through my veins, Sky, and this vessel is my life. That you imagined for one second I would risk losing it all if I didn't intend to spend the rest of my life with you makes me want to reenlist the old salt's tradition of a public flogging." His eyes seemed to lash at her. "I came damned close to giving that male audience of yours a gander of just how red and hot your shapely ass can turn out to be when it's the focus of my attention." He roughly released her chin. "I-uhm," she stammered with mounting anxiety. "Didn't realize--" "That I was about to propose to you with the band microphone when you decided to act like a bitch in heat?" A suffocating sensation closed her throat. "And Mrs. Merrywidow? Her name is Katharine Pennworth. Kindly address my mother as such," he pronounced, and she willed herself to disappear into the deep blue abyss of the sea and lock herself in with Davy. "Her husband, the admiral, also my father, had to pull quite a few strings when I told him about us. My forbidden love for an employee predicament was about to be solved with a surprise engagement party that involved enough red-tape to circle this ship." She cupped a hand over her gaping mouth. "Oh-m-gawd," she muffled. "He had nothing to do with your unholy show." Her mortified, panic stricken eyes filled with terrible regret and remorse. "Save it for when I really give you something to cry about," he glowered and then he eyed his wristwatch. "You have exactly forty minutes to prepare for my arrival. I suggest you get-a-move-on." She gulped the hard knot lodged in her throat. "Prepare?" His whole demeanor grew in a severity that rippled along her spine. "If your peep show is not shaved as bald as a billiard ball when I pull your scanty panties down, I'll do it myself and add one hundred more cracks for the trouble." She flinched at his tone and waves of apprehension swept through her. "And if I refuse?" she managed lamely. "Revoking your ship privileges and shore pass hardly corrected your insubordinence, did it? Or did you imagine I would never find out about your unauthorized escapades to the islands for yet another girl bonding party?" he asked with a humorless smile, and the silent impasse between them became unbearable. "Third times a charm, Sky," the conviction in his stern voice rang in her eardrums like a courtroom gavel. Her face drained of color. "Please, Caleb. You can't fire me." "I can and will if you don't haul ass and make ready for what you deserve. Red Sky at the night is a sailors delight, sweetheart." He adjusted the rim of his hat. "And when your cute lil' rumba is as sweltering as the morning sun, you'll never again question who's at the helm." And with that, he pushed away from the rail, retreating with long, purposeful strides into the galley. * * * Sky flew into the blue-carpeted fitness room where she held classes for vacationing exercise enthusiasts. She promptly locked the heavily paned doors behind her and she began to tremble as fearful images of those huge and powerful palms striking her bottom built in her mind. She eyed the rowing machines in a crazy but desperate fantasy of escape. Knowing Caleb's robust sexual appetites, she didn't doubt his promise of pleasure in the aftermath of her punishment, but at what price to her doomed behind? If the meted pain equaled his unbridled, and deprived--no thanks to her-passions. . . She wouldn't be able to sit for a month. The clock on the wall above the swimming pool ticked a startling reminder that she had only twenty minutes left before she bared-it-all to her commander and chief. She was only certain of one thing. . . She could not imagine her life without Caleb. The first time she'd opened the pool early for the captain's private use before the guests arrived, they fit together like rain in the springtime. They talked about everything, and nothing, and laughed at each other's jokes. While working out with weights and swimming laps, every accidental brushing of their bodies turned to frustration and longing. When she straddled his weight bench, haunch-to-haunch, sharing Gatorade and laughing, their mouths sobered and then hovered, breath mingling, and then his lips touched hers in a featherlike quest, a leisure stroking of his tongue, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip. "They could make me walk the plank for this, Sky," she remembered him mumbling into her mouth. "I could never live with myself if I were the cause. Oh, Caleb," she had sighed forlornly. "What are we going to do?" She rested her defeated head on his warm chest. "I don't know... But trust me. I'll find a way." He gently caressed her back, and then deftly unfastened the tie of her halter beneath the hair at her nape. The front flap fell, freeing her full breasts to the cool air and his heated gaze. He thumbed her nipples to harder pebbles, eliciting jolts of exquisite electricity that had her emitting breathless little shudders. His hungry mouth then found her, first one nipple, then the other, the shadow of his beard part pain, and pure pleasure against her soft skin. "I want to make you mine, Sky," he rasped, and gently guided her hand over the iron rod of arousal straining against the frustrating red fabric of his gym shorts. She remembered how she had gasped in surprise, and first teased Cap'n Ahab about his Moby. Oh, how she adored his deep, sexy chuckle. The way his warm, solid chest had rumbled against her breasts with his embrace. "I love you, Sky," he murmured as his lips seared a path up her neck to her ear, imprisoning her lobe with his teeth. "Come hell or high water...gotta have you..." And they had torn at each others clothes, ravenous in their hunger to taste and touch and explore every naked mystery, until he gripped her hips and impaled her, and she rode him, wild and bucking, into a breathtaking, blissful horizon. When their love had been new, hiding away from the world was as natural and necessary as breathing, and for a time, their forbidden secret added a delicious risk-taking element to their stolen rendezvous'. But then she had wanted to declare her love to the world, and she did not understand why he didn't, and was too damned proud to ask or press the issue. All the while he had been planning to pop the question, she had been too busy lying, denying him, and herself, and of the passions they shared. Too busy seething with petty jealousies and defying his authority aboard his own ship; as if to say to his crew, 'you're silly rules don't apply to me Captain Crunch.' And Mother of Mamba's. She couldn't, didn't, want to think about her whorish behavior in front of her future in-laws who were probably here to meet her. She had ruined Caleb's romantic surprise like the castrating bitch she had become. And if there was ever going to be a future with Caleb, she knew what she had to do. She couldn't lock herself in here for the rest of her life like a frightened fool. Sky undressed, stepped into a shower stall, and quickly soaped her body under the steamy cascade. She placed the razor to her furry blonde mons; denuding herself with mechanical precision while memories that she should never have forgotten pelted her mind. She stepped out, toweled herself off, and fished in her locker for her toiletries. She lotioned and misted her toned body with Caleb's favorite scent--Obsession. The wedding white satin panties felt cool and sleek on her denuded genitals, and she selected black spandex leggings a matching midriff runners bra for want of a better choice. At the long marble vanity, she preened before the lighted mirrors. Applying a touch of mascara and lip-gloss, she skipped over the blusher for the obvious reasons. Using one of the guest-provided blow dryers and her favorite old hairbrush, she dried her sleek blonde hair, which she then styled into the high, girlish ponytail she usually wore when working out. With a resigned, but fortified sigh, she turned old faithful over in her hand to study the wide, oval-shaped back, made in the USA, like her, of sturdy, natural oak. It was smudged with war paint from her deliberate Dances With Wolves. Whoever said payback was a bitch must have been a man . . . she ironically realized in retrospect. Gathering up her slinky scarlet dress, matching garter belt, G-string, and misty red silk stockings, she stuffed the completely hated couturier caboodle into the trash bin, picked up the hairbrush, and padded barefoot down the seemingly endless hallways that led to her master's stateroom. MAN AT HELM Chapter Two Sky closed the door and pressed her back against the woodwork, instinctively guarding what was about to be punished. Even the air seemed to be holding its breath as her eyes adjusted in the dark. His government green front office with its husky, brass trimmed, polished wood furnishings, and heavily mirrored walls came into focus. A slice of yellow light at the base of the adjacent door indicated that he was in the sitting room, probably sipping Crown Royal from the quaint rattan bar, enjoying his nightly cigar, his large frame comfortably stretched out on his favorite leather chaise lounge. Somehow she did not imagine he'd be reading, as was his usual practice before he retired with her into the bedroom. He'd been too livid, too preoccupied with taking her to task. If only she could diffuse his anger. . . . Maybe she could dissuade him from spanking her by soothing his frustrated lust? She knew just the sort of submissive seduction that might possibly make up for all her horrid behavior. Her heart beat as erratically as her frantic thoughts. Mother of Majestic Bounty. She should run for it while she still had the chance! Before she could turn to do just that, a startling flare illuminated Caleb's chiseled face in the shadows. He framed the matchstick with his hand, staring at her through the flame while he cuffed his cigar to life. Caleb seemed to take up a lot of the space while he sat on that armless antique chair with his knees planted wide. Sky fumbled for the light switch on the wall with shaking fingers. "Leave it," he commanded in a tone that reduced her spine to cooked spaghetti. "I, uhm--" "C'mere," he bellowed. She shivered not from a chill, but dread as she shuffled forward to stand between those massive thighs. Head lowered, her polished red toenails digging into the plush white carpet, she offered him her hairbrush like a grail. "I deserve it, I know... but before you spank me," she whispered softly. "Please, darling. Let me show you how truly sorry I am." Sinking gracefully to her knees, and with her hands together as if in prayer, she brought her parted palms hovering over his crotch. Sky licked her generous lips suggestively, her dainty fingers searching for the tine of his zipper, and slowly, she began to ease it down, her head lowering. The hairbrush came before her pert nose, thwarting her intended destination. "Hoping to change my mind about using this?" she heard him say around his sweet smelling cigar, and the applied pressure of the brush under her chin left her no choice but to look up at him. His dark eyebrow was arched, his steely stare determined. "Or are you praying I won't be able to resist such a tempting offer after denying me with those lying lips?" He touched the flat of the brush to her moistened mouth as if to both silence her and reaffirm his aim. "You certainly place more emphasis on the word cunning, when it comes to cunninglingus." The brush came away and he smacked it down into his open palm. Flinching at the sound, she dropped back onto her haunches, shielding her bottom. "The first lesson you're going to learn is that you can't use sex as a bargaining chip to manipulate me. And that's just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to your misbehavior." He set the hairbrush on the polished mahogany desk beside him and effortlessly yanked her up to her feet while he remained seated. "I can see you still like to bend the rules to suit you. You didn't follow my orders to the letter. And I didn't I find you here when I arrived. Care to enlighten me before I turn you over my knee?" "B-but I went to the gym to... prepare," she wheedled. "No. You went there because even in the face of all you have done, you still want the upper edge of doing things your way." "I-I was scared," she protested. "Not scared enough to do as you were told." He scrutinized her exercise apparel, expelling an aggravated stream of sweet smelling smoke over her torso. "While there's no question you're going to receive the work-out of your life, I'm not a man who'll settle on second best. I caught more than an eyeful, along with everyone else, under that sexy red number you had on." "I threw it in garbage can! I never want to look at it again!" "Oh, but I do," he replied matter-of-fact, and then he picked up the phone, placed the receiver to his ear, and punched one of the many hailing buttons on the com. "There's a ladies red dress stuffed in a trash can somewhere in the gymnasium. I want you to find this dress and bring it to my stateroom." He tapped his cigar ash into the crystal, anchor-shaped tray while listening to the voice other end. "If you have to tear the ship upside down, you'll find it before it reaches the incinerators, mister," he growled around the cigar and then paused to listen with more chuffs. "No. That's not all," he expounded. "I'd also like two of those disposable type enemas from the Binnacle Store. That's right," he said, chuckling as he cut a look from her horrified turtle brown eyes to her bum. "With a name like Fleet, you can't go wrong." He slammed the receiver down. "At least my men know how to follow orders." "If you think for one min--" "Did I give you permission to speak?" He silenced her with a glare and stabbed his cigar out in the ashtray. "Permission to speak?" she asked snidely, her rebellion resurfacing. "Denied." He hooked his fingers into her waistband. "These are tighter than skin on a wiener, but they'll keep you from kicking." He peeled her leggings and panties down to her knees. Her face colored fiercely and she quickly folded her hands over her over her hairless mons with confusing rushes of fear and anticipation and embarrassment. He reached for something to the left of him on the floor and swung a black leather footstool around which he promptly planted before her feet. Clasping her waist, he brusquely lifted her on, and when he let go, she teetered for balance with her legs locked in black spandex. "Now." He perched his fists on his thighs and jerked his strong chin closer to her pubis. "Spread yourself open so I can look at your clitoris in full bloom," he demanded, and the crisp bite to his words made her wonder if he about to pleasure her, or punish her, or both, because surely this was torture. "Do it, Sky," he snapped at her hesitation and she complied with a thumping heart and heated face. He flicked on the desk lamp, the only cover of dignity left to her, gone in a blaring blinking of her eyes. His gaze focused on her splayed, denuded, damp lips, the pink hood pulled up, her scarlet stamen betraying her and standing at his attention. "I may love all the textures and juices and spices of you," his warm breath fanned her swollen nub as he reached around to gently cup her buttocks. "But if I'm going to tongue this." He pulled apart her cheeks and cold air puckered her anal maw. "I want you clean and fresh as flower." The hard tip of his tongue flicked her clit and sent stars shooting through her in a shameless and instant reaction that had him issuing a deep-throated chuckle. He thrust one, and then two, thickset fingers into her drenched vagina and piston pumped her canal until she whimpered for release. "And I'll have you as well lubricated and as comfortably stretched when I finally decide to stick my neglected dick where the sun doesn't shine." He then withdrew his slippery fingers as impersonally as a gynecologist. Sky covered her denuded sex like Eve realizing she was naked for the first time in Eden. Her emotions rioted with queer and conflicting mixtures of love and contempt and shame and fury at her vulnerably to him. He had made her hunger, and feel undeserving of pleasure in a bittersweet warfare of arousal, turning the tables, her very words on her, with denial, and insult, all in the space of a few moments. "I'm not a whore, Caleb." "You certainly gave an Oscar winning performance of being one. It's time to get your shapely bottom the appropriate shade of red until your dress arrives and you can really play the part. . . For me. " He hooked an arm around her waist and flung her over his lap with a harrumph. He hiked her bottom with a muscular thigh and he pressed her head low; her blonde ponytail tickled the plush white carpet beneath her scrabbling red fingernails. She looked up to see his nostrils flaring with his arm arched high, the oval oak hairbrush looking small and insignificant in his large hand. It descended in a blur and hit her bottom with a lightning force and thunderous crack. Sky winced and pressed her pelvis into his lap to escape the searing sting that spread heat through her flesh. His pectorals moved in rhythm with his shoulder, arm, and hand as they swung the hairbrush up, and then down, like the never-wavering, painful beat of a metronome. Strong. Insistent. Monotonous. Maddening as she struggled to free her imprisoned legs. Sky bit her lower lip to stifle her yelps and groans and she clamped her eyelids shut with a vow not to cry. And as physically fit and toned from all her workouts, her gently curved buttocks mocked her, bouncing and wobbling, embarrassingly, like twin bowls of peach Jell-O jiggling during rough seas. He flipped the brush back and forth over her bum, strategically alternating stings from one cheek to the other, dead center, and far below, as if he was some crazed Picasso painting an oyster white canvas with pink strokes, scarlet streaks, and magenta splotches. She screwed up her face and breathed in and out through her teeth. Perspiration misted her forehead and runneled her nape when his efforts brought the blood circulating to her radiating bottom in two small concentric circles. When he stopped and waited and then whaled her, these surprise attacks of 'there she blows' were the worst. She hated anticipating what was about to happen, hot cheeks clenched tightly for the horrendous sideswiping, peeling motions that exposed her anal opening. She inhaled sharply as he smacked her directly over this office before her cheek flapped back into position. His thumb then skimmed between her cleft, melting her tautly straining muscles with a delightful, unexpected zing. He dipped, deeply, into her vagina, and while she moaned for more of the same, his dredging fingers immerged. He spread her cheeks apart, and circled her pink anal bud, moistening her with her own juices. When he gently worked the tip of his index finger inside her rectum, guilty heat coursed through her core. He then strummed her clitoris while he slowly sheathed his finger to the hilt. Her empty tunnel began to tremble with a need to be filled. Her calves and spandex imprisoned knees levitated under this intoxicating magic, her pedicure red toes stretched straight out in the air behind her. And on the verge of spiraling into oblivion, he abruptly withdrew, and then cruelly cracked her bottom with his open palm, putting a sharp, painful stop to what she mewed for. The brush returned to her buttocks, resting on her flaming skin in an awful reminder that her penalty wasn't over. "Did you know I had to suffer through crude comments about this cute little ass and pussy during your little show? " Shallow, short smacks on her most tenderized spots were delivered with a speed that had her squirming sideways, almost off his knees. He yanked her against his solid center, and continued with an unfazed concentration that hurt like unleashed hell. When she reared up, frantically looking around for escape, her bottom resembled two red apples nested in pink cotton candy. "Please, no-no more, no-more" she pleaded, not caring how pitiful she sounded, gulping in big drafts of air on his wild roller coaster ride of pure pleasure alternated with strict pain. He pulled her leggings off and tossed them on the floor before her nose. "Well now your baring every naked inch of it to me." He then hiked her higher, his polished heel planted on a low rung of the chair, her body nearly jackknifed, her feline whiles on full display. He shoved her exercise bra down until her breasts were exposed and jutting. "They talked about these as if you were some dancer for hire in a sleazy nightclub." He tugged on her nipples as if he was milking a cow and an invisible cord connected from her breasts to her clitoris responded in a hated electrical charge. "I didn't know--" "How it feels to be humiliated and powerless to do anything about it?" He deftly worked his thick thumb into her tight rectal ring, an index finger deep into her canal, and his remaining, fisted knuckles kneaded her swollen nub, a grinding pistol n' mortar of mortification and need. "You've been sticking it to me all month, haven't you, Sky?" "Yes," her voice quivered with shame so acute, she wanted to disappear into the carpet. He popped his fingers out and colors exploded behind her eyes when the paddle of old faithful broke away from the handle. "Spread your legs wide. Wider! Hold your cheeks open for me." She complied; feeling the pulsating heat of her punished flesh under her splayed fingers and the cool rush of air on her anal bud and over the unfurled folds of her creaming and inflamed sex. Ever hear of the expression pussy-whipped, Sky?" His brawny fingers smacked her wet labia, blazing a trail reminiscent of a scarfed five-alarm chili pepper while her clitoris pulsed in confusion. She let go of her bottom and wriggled wildly under the relentless claps of his enormous palm that followed, calloused flesh striking soft sore flesh in a heartfelt applause. In her upended view of the world, she was flung over a horse bucking back to a barn while hornets stung her bared behind. Her pelvis ground into his thighs for climactic release while her boobs bounced painfully as if she were jogging topless. He ignored her crazy full-throated shrieks and picked up his pace as if he was a long distance runner just breaking his stride. "Pleeeasse," she implored in misery, not sure if she meant 'Please stop' or 'Please more.' And he covered every nook and cranny, hill and valley, until her bum was as hot as the cigar that had glowed in the dark. Until something switched off in her brain, and she became conscious only of power, his power, an awesome conglomerate of pure masculine power, a sharp scalpel of dominant realty that sliced opened her floodgates, and freed her. . . At last. The moment she allowed her tears to fall like rain, she shattered into a thousand million stars, exploded into an all encompassing orgasm that rocked her body over his sprawling lap, his iron hard arousal nudging encouragement against her hip. "That a girl," he rasped, spreading her cheeks and fleshy folds apart with his fingers as if watching in amazed wonder. "Let it all go, darling. Give it all up to me." Her surrendering vagina twitched with awesome, apoplectic relief and release while she wept aloud. "I hate you," she croaked feebly. "No you don't," he murmured with a resonating chuckle, gently rubbing her lower spine with a coaxing palm, watching her hot crimson cheeks contract and relax in a spasmodic culmination of so many different and novel sensations. "I-I don't understand--" "Shhh." His handsome dark head descended, and he inhaled deeply, as if savoring her scent. "Don't think it to death my beautiful, Sky." His warm breath fanned her skin and he pressed his sensual lips to her orbs in a reverent kiss. "It just is." He came up on a long exhaled sigh as she lay limp across his lap, emotionally, and physically depleted, a deflated life raft adrift on a sedentary sea. A distant rapping noise penetrated her drained brain. The nervous, and instant knocking, she realized, was coming from the other side of Caleb's door. "Come," his hoarse reply broke the spell, and in the mirrored wall in front of her, Sky watched the petty officer she had danced with spill into the green room with her red dress draped over his arm and a brown paper bag in his hand. RED SKY AT NIGHT Chapter Three The heavy lashes that shadowed her cheeks flew up and she inhaled a sharp breath. Gold specked, tinted mirrored tiles both before and behind granted a panoramic view of the front office, both men, and an infinity reflection of her disciplinary drama that had her closing her mortified eyes. Hiked high on Caleb's strapping thigh with not even the anchor of the floor to brace herself against, her buttocks resembled a double exposure of the glorious full red moon out by the stern rail. Only her orbs sizzled like millions of sparkers reflected in a sea of green glass. Her face flamed almost as fiercely at the further realization that her rectal rosette and shaved and swollen nether lips were unfurled like some proud, dusky pink and crimson pennant shinning with utterly confusing liberation. Whatever Caleb had done to her, she had never felt so vulnerable, so exposed, or so out of control in her life. Thankfully he lowered his leg, and she sank into his lap, allowing her a small measure of modesty. Sky closed her weak thighs, righted her runner's bra, and then cupped her hands over her bare bottom to better hide her hot humiliation. She resembled a blushing sea siren on the bow a Viking ship in this awkward but aerobically familiar position. And one glimpse of the petty officer ogling her in those hateful mirrors had been enough. Sam Shockley's jaw had dropped along with her strappy high heels that had dangled from his fingertips. Her perfect pick of a tantalizing tango partner, her bodacious blonde boogie buddy. . . Was reduced to a wimpy waiter ready to take the captain's next order with her scarlet dress draped over his starched arm like a napkin and a brown lunch bag clutched in his hand. And he wasn't winded from dirty dancing, but from an apparent mad scavenger Hunt For Red October in the countless garbage bins aboard the ship. Mother of Majestic Messes. She acted like trash and Shockley had been her trash man. "Kindly hold your tongue, Mister Shockley," Caleb commanded, and she gnawed on her lower lip, thinking, everyone onboard knew Shockley's mouth was so big he could probably out-blow the foghorn. She may as well put a full-page advertisement of her red moons on the front page of the ship's newspaper delivered to the guests each morning. Neptune's nuts. She was trapped aboard this floating small town filled with bored and rich gossipmongers, chatty co-workers, and long-winded sailors. And the only means of escaping their exercising tongues was during shore leave. A ship's privilege she could use after this ordeal. It didn't help to remember that her third unauthorized trip to the islands with the girls--she never wanted to hear 'one more drink for the blonde with no bra' again--had not only almost cost her job, but was yet another of her mutinies that had landed her over the captain's knee. "I'm not quite finished with this seditious femme fatale," Caleb added, and roughly shoved aside her hands to clearly reveal the full curves of her blundering rumba. Anxiety swept through under this intensely shameful scrutiny, but she suffered in Catholic silence, knowing it was enough that her 'dirty dancer' could see evidence of her just deserts. Now that Caleb had reestablished his standing in front of his junior officer--whom she had brazenly used as a means to her own throbbing end--he would probably settle on a stern lecture and then send the blow-hard off on his way. Making up after a spat was always sweet. . . making up for lost time after her month long sexual embargo would be sinfully delightful. Lustful thoughts turned to heart-hammering fright when Caleb pinned her wrist at the curve of her spine, hooked one masculine thigh over her limbs, and shoved her head down. "Nooo! Not again!" She shrieked, and struggled with all her might, but she was no match for the captain's capturing strength. "Some naughty nymphs may enjoy having their bare bottoms spanked," his bold announcement of her rambunctious reaction scalded her ears. "But employees who continue to make their own rules aboard my ship will end up with more than they bargained for when they tango with me." A loud crack on her primed bottom sent wave upon wave of a prickly stings singing over her mounds. She soon realized the pain center of her brain had been nearly comatose during her first spanking due to his strategic frenzy of sexual stimulation, because without it, her hibernating bum woke up as if mauled by a grizzly bear. She gyrated her hips madly, not in intimate invitation this time, but in a useless attempt to dodge his punishing palm. "Please-oh-please! I-I promise I'll never do it again!" she cajoled, ready to bargain with Beelzebub if only he'd let her loose. His humorless chuckle resonated through her pelvis. "You're damn right you won't do it again. And you're going to take what's truly coming to you with all of the bravado you use for all the wrong reasons." She stared at her discarded leggings tangled up with her white satin panties lying under her nose as if she could mentally will them back on. Keeping her thighs closed help hide her sex, but it made her bottom protrude more, her flesh more giggly to the point where the twelve cracks were so embarrassingly loud, she wanted to grab her ears to muffle the sound. "I will! I will! But pleeease. M-make him leave!" "There wasn't a modest bone in your body when you danced with him." His reminder of her seismic faults stung as much as the white palm prints erupting on her roasted rump. "Now that your lap dancing with me, why be shy?" He released her wrist and she reared-up and blew her bangs out of her eyes, seething at the petty officer while she galloped on Caleb's knee. "If you don't g-get the fuck out of here, Shockley. Owwwh! I swear I'll push you overboard when were at full steam! Owhh!" Caleb's shoved her so far down; she had to lock her elbows and gripped the carpet to keep from landing on her face. "You want steam?" The cracks came harder and faster, like the full throttle of the ship. "You're in no position to make threats, Miss O'Keefe. And if you continue to turn such a loving word between us into filth, you'll be licking Irish Spring." She stifled the urge to hurl every curse issued from every Irish immigrant that had ever traveled in steerage. "S-stop it! Ouch! Owhh, gawd. It burns." She sucked breath through her teeth. "Oh please, Caaaleb. It's so embarrassing!" "As embarrassed as I felt during your peek a boo bump and grind blatant threat to give it away to another? You really enjoyed reminding me of what I've been missing with that show, didn't you? In front of my parents no less." His verbal missiles hit as hard as his hand. "But this is none of his. Ooouch! Business," she gulped the word with watering eyes and wondered if his arm ever got tired, prayed that it would. "Wrong," he roared like a fire-breathing dragon. "You made it everyone's business when you recruited him in your scheme to get your way." His open paw side swept her left cheek. "And I plan to get to the bottom of that--" He whacked her wobbling right cheek apart with the loudest crack ever. "Too." "Ewhhh!" She bucked her frustrated hips and he unhinged his thigh and thwarted her flat across his lap like so much fluff. "You can't do this to me. Damn you!" She squirmed and jerked her bruised pride under his infuriating hand. "Funny..."He massaged her pulsating orbs, soothing the itchy burn away until her rigid muscles melted. "Those where my exact thoughts when I picked up the band microphone to propose and saw you act like a bitch in heat." Her malleable mounds quivered around his deeply sunk palm like a bolder plunked into Lake Placid. He began to spank her again, methodically, with solid, ceaseless strokes that resounded off the thin walls. In the adjoining stateroom, Gabriel Faulkner, the chief engineer of the Majestic Bounty, who had also been breaking the non-fraternizations rules, was about to step into the shower when he heard the unmistakable sounds of an adult spanking. "Way to go, Cap'n." Gabe smiled with even white teeth. "Give it to her good." He leaned an ear closer to the overhead vent. Roberta DeMilo, a hairstylist with long chestnut spiral waves, and a now blushing, heart shaped face, had stopped applying her lipstick at the sink, her French manicured fingernails frozen in midair as she also listened, overcome with a curious swooping pull at her innards. She glanced sideways at her naked beau, a magnificent giant from the top of his beautiful bald brown head, oarsman shoulders to. . . How she would love to pull away the white towel from his washboard waist and enjoy the rest. But she'd be late for work. "Sky doesn't deserve to be treated like child," she commented. "You ladies kill me the way you stick up for each other. Even when you're dead wrong. Men like me and the Cap'n don't risk their careers over a woman unless they're in love." Roberta placed her hands on her hips. "Well some men think with their penises." "Seaman have easy access to a lot of female ports when off duty. Only an idiot would chance a dismissal over simple slap and tickle. No. He's in love. And how does she repay him? Did you see what she pulled on the dance floor tonight?" "Well, still... I feel sorry for her." Roberta winced in sympathy at a distinctively loud crack and yelp, but the unavoidable sound track of Sky's spanking sent another heated rush to her very core. Her olive eyes widened when Gabriel dropped his towel. His cock seemed to rise like the sword of an avenging angel, lengthening and turning a darker hue with each muted smack. "I should have spanked you too when you snuck off to the Islands with her," Gabe growled as he came up behind her. His hazel eyes locked with hers through the mirror as he bent her over the sink, trucked up her black nylon smock and the hem of her summer white skirt, yanked her hose and panties down to her ankles. "I want you to think about the spanking you're going to get while you're styling all those heads with that big pink vent brush that you going to bring to me tonight." He smacked the dark knob of his formidable shaft over her pleasingly plump white cleft. But this will have to do." He thrust himself deep into her already well-lubricated vagina. "For now." And with every resounding crack Caleb delivered on Sky's behind; Gabriel slapped his body against Roberta's ample buttocks in the same punishing rhythm. "Ohh! Oh! Ohhhh! Oh Gawd!" They heard Sky's muffled moans, and with visions of her own disciplinary drama dancing in her head, Roberta found herself echoing similar sentiments while she shuddered into sharp relief. And with the final, Crack! Crack! Crack! Gabriel's cock twitched inside her, his volcanic eruption keeping time to the spicy hot, spanking song. "But-but--" Sky blubbered incoherently "If I hear one more word out of you, you'll find the first session on your butt--" Caleb's hand descended in a raw verdict. "Was foreplay. Do," his measured voice warned as his purposeful palm stung her left cheek. "You." And her right cheek. "Understand?" He hit dead center with the force of a sprung bear trap. She clamped her mouth tight and shook her frantic head, ponytail bobbing in complete capitulation. With a deep, fortifying breath, she lowered her head and gripped his tree trunk of an ankle with both hands, steeling herself for the next onslaught that would surely make her die of humiliation or ignite her bravely proffered bum. Silence fell over the room and the heavy male breathing seemed to roar in her ears and hang in the tense air. The wait was unbearable. Excruciating. She opened one cautious eyelid and saw that the stern palm posed high above her was quite red from his efforts. "Now that we understand each other." Caleb's eyes wheeled away from the sorry state of her sortie and he stabbed that mottled index finger at the petty officer. "Face the music." He then noticed her fearfully confused expression through the mirror. "I said look at him," he said between his teeth. And she saw through the mirrors that Caleb had taken in her every expression, as if he saw into the darkest, most private corners of her soul, comprehended every emotion racing in her wild heart. All the turbulent female desires at war with her newly submissive soul seemed encapsulated in his watchful blue eyes, as if merely waiting to be unleashed under his guidance. Nobody had ever cared enough to spank her when she acted like a manipulative, spoiled brat. Wrapping men like Shockley around her little finger had become second nature, and they always seemed somehow lacking as a result. And what would she be surrendering to Caleb in the end other than the negative, self-defeating parts of herself? She already knew she would experience a freedom of passion most women were afraid of, or by years of conditioning were too repressed to let themselves feel. The moment his eyes locked with hers, she realized he possessed some gene unique only to utterly dominate males. Men with tidewater flowing through their veins. Men who had made a lifelong vocation out of commanding others. Men who believed in old-fashioned words like honor, duty, and loyalty, not only thrived on the challenges of an unpredictable sea; they had utmost respect for it, never underestimating its power. And they clearly expected equal or greater challenges in their respective mates. "Is it any wonder we refer to the ocean as 'she'?" he answered her very thoughts like some frightening clairvoyant, and under that momentous and masculine gaze, Sky understood they were both equal and opposing sides of polarities, that once pushed beyond the critical barriers, were yanked into a magnetic field that held them fast. . . And was indivisible in its combined power. "Ours is no ordinary love," he added, and whether or not it was part warning, or declaration, or both, he didn't have to tell her it would take one hell of a women to submit mind and heart and soul and body while still remaining true to herself. A satisfied twinkle came into his electric blue eyes, and he nodded his handsome dark head before turning his attention to the junior officer. She felt him adjust his large frame for comfort, and he rested his arms behind the high-backed chair while she lay over his widely spread thighs, a willing subjugate. Shockley coughed and licked his dry lips as if he knew something important had transpired, as if the silent exchange he had witnessed held a deeper significance than a simple good old-fashioned spanking. "Permission to speak, Cap'n?" His voice caught oddly. "Only if quit looking at me as if you just had one of those enemas," Caleb answered gruffly, and Sky wanted to cover her ears against his words, deny the very existence of what lay inside the dreaded brown bag. "Well, I almost shit a brick when you ordered me to find this." Shockley eyed her dress with a wistfulness he quickly shook off as if possessed by madness. "Look. I may not exactly be one the Three Wise Men, but I swear on my blessed mother's life, if I'd a known she was your girl-" "I can't begin to imagine the grief my mother, who made a special trip here to meet my intended, is feeling after that unholy show. I was about to ask her to be my fiancé when she practically jumped on your gun." Shockley tossed up his hands in a 'don't shoot' gesture. "Awh, Cap'n. I didn't know any of this until I walked in here. All I did was dance with her, sir. And dancing for horny women at private parties may have paid my rent until I enlisted, but I joined up to better myself. Not because I wanted to be shoved overboard at full steam." "Exactly how long has she been leading you on?" "I couldn't warm up to him if we were cremated together!" Sky shrilled. Caleb pressed his fingers to the corners of his eyes. "Only one of the reasons I fell in love with her," he said, struggling not to laugh. "But if I give her an inch, she thinks she's a ruler. She's also an incurable flirt with too much pepper up her ass," he added soberly, and came up as stiff as the high-backed antique chair and his arm swooped down to scoop her waist securely against his solid center. "And in all my years of command." The muscles in his forearm harden beneath his crisp, rolled sleeve as he raised his right hand high. "The first shipmate to protest a charge is usually the one who's guilty as sin." He delivered three serious, skin-incinerating cracks that had her legs shooting out in the air in the most undignified, inelegant way. "Oh, God, Caaaleb. I-I is s-sorry!" She implored, squeezing his thigh and digging her fingernails into granite. "I don't doubt it with your ass on the line." He gently rubbed the sting out of his unabashed reference until her legs lowered. "There's nothing funny about lying to me, is there?" He pressed her head down, his fingers massaging her nape while his possessive palm rested lax on her pulsating behind. "No," she whimpered and a hot tear plopped onto the plush rug. Whatever possessed her to think she could toy with such a man? To actually believe she could lead him around by the nose like Shockley, play him for a fool; have him dancing to her every tune? "Your name suits you." His palm polished her skin with a sweet circular friction. "The sky seems the be the limit when it comes to you trying my patience's. Now," he skimmed a fingertip over her cleft. "Are you going to hush up so I can get to the bottom of this?" he asked softly, and she swallowed hard, and nodded, biting back tears. "Just how long as she been batting her lashes at you, Mister Shockley?" he cross-examined as if unmoved by her remorseful acquiescence. "Bout' a month, I guess." The traitorous little twerp shrugged. "During your embargo..." Caleb surmised aloud and a riptide of fresh fear flushed her into the deepest water of all. Shockley blinked in confusion. "Pardon me, sir?" "I said her flirting was enough to make you wish you had her sail on my boat," he stated, and Sky held her breath in hopes of hastening her euthanasia. "I had that wind knocked outta me the second I realized she was off limits. Look, Cap'n. Sky used me to make you jealous and put me between a rock and a hard place to boot. If I were you, I'd spank her till role call. When I was hunting down this dress, I saw more trouble than I asked for cause of her." Caleb lifted a dark brow. "Such as?" "Being transferred or hazed. Maybe even dismissed on some trumped up charge. Hell, it's not like it's never been known to happen." "Not on my ship," Caleb growled. "And since I'm not in the habit of cold cocking a man for being sexually enticed by a women," he said, slapping her bum sharply. "Or abusing my rank by locking him in the brig, or worse." He delivered four more stinging spanks that had her yelping. "You're going to play a small part in her punishment, Sam." He rose like an awakening giant and set her, none to gently, on her rubbery legs. He grabbed the red dress from Shockley's arm, scooped her matching high heels up from the floor, and then placed the entire caboodle into her fumbling arms. She covered herself as best she could while his towering hulk blocked her. "And if she ever runs into you after she learns the meaning of a Loyal Fleet." He tossed the brown bag onto the chaise lounge, and it ripped, the contents spilling out in an alarming array. "She'll run the other way." He fixed her with a menacing stare. "Mortified. Much as I was tonight." Her eyes flew wide. "Nooo!" she hollered, and he propelled her by the small of her back through the front office, throwing open the rear door. She dropped her things, stumbling over her dress and shoes as he spanked her ahead. She turned to see him picking up her things, and she used a rattan barstool as a barrier, longing for a gulp of the Crown Royal he usually enjoyed before her embargo. He wouldn't let him purge her! He couldn't! Caleb stared at her fixedly as he headed toward her, and she flung the stool aside and ran for the bedroom, leaping past an ocean of black velvet on the four-poster mahogany bed. She skidded on the sleek bathroom tiles and was about to slam and lock the door, but he was there, filling the entry, his hand pushing the door wide. Light suddenly sprawled over the black and gold powder room. Her dress landed at her feet in a silken heap, and she looked up, blinking under his angry glare. He reached for her hair, his fingers fumbled into her lopsided ponytail, the rubber band snapped, and she trembled when her messy tresses tumbled over her shoulders. "I want you to come out to the bar looking exactly as you were on that dance floor." He scattered her cosmetics across the marble vanity, his fingers finding and grasping the handle of his tan, black boar-bristled bath brush. When he smacked the big square of wood against his palm, her bum twitched in response. He arched a black brow. "It'll do," he added with unmistakable intent. "Anything," she whimpered. "But just please, make him leave." "You have always had a free will, although what you've done with it lately remains to be seen. But make no mistake. If you choose to leave? My bedroom door stays closed to you," he said thickly. "Forever." Tears blinded her eyes and choked her voice. "I want us to be forever, Caleb." "Forever, my darling, begins with trust. Not lies." He thumbed a tear from her cheek. "And running a tight ship is similar to a well-grounded marriage." He regarded her quizzically for a moment and chucked her jaw, making her ponder how tall men held the power to keep a woman's chin up, even when they didn't try. "I'm not sure you're ready for such a serious commitment at this stage." "Oh, you're wrong, Caleb," she gushed, her mind a crazy mixture of hope for a future and a desolate fear of losing it all, of losing him. "Am I?" He removed his wristwatch, unfolded her fingers, and placed it into her palm. "This should have been an engagement ring, Sky. As it stands, you have fifteen minutes to jump ship or stay aboard this relationship. . . Wherever it may lead. It's entirely up to you." He gently closed the door on her alarmed face. Unlike Scarlet O'Hara, she didn't have the luxury of thinking about it until tomorrow. She moved swiftly, deftly dressing under the muffled sounds of masculine voices moving into the adjacent room. Their mutual chuckles gave her pause . . . and had her pondering the purging punishment they plotted. . . . Caleb righted the rattan stool and motioned for Shockley to take a seat. He then made his way behind the bar, setting the Fleet boxes atop. He selected a bottle of Crown Royal; pouring it into two blue tumblers, half full, not empty, to his way of thinking. He noticed how Shockley stared at the enema boxes, his whole demeanor reminiscent of a nervous, albeit rather horny, turkey in November. He clinked his glass to his. "Here's to love. The only fire against which there is no insurance," he toasted, and when Shockley went into a coughing fit, he thumped him on the back. "Experience is nothing but a fancy word for mistakes," he chuckled. "Especially when it comes to women. Some are like sirens that'll lure men into the deep with their enchanting song and then drown the sorry bastard for his trouble." "Cap'n . . . excuse me for my ignorance but I'm not sure what the hell you're talking about." " Relax, Sam. This was never about me being jealous of you. Although she's been unreasonably green of me. Sky uses her sex as a weapon against men, and it backfired on her shapely rumba." "Man Cap'n. It was as red as the moon is out there tonight." "Red Sky at night is a sailors delight," he grinned wolfishly. "Well, the female bottom is without a doubt the loveliest sight known to man, eh? And the view when she's over your knee and willingly offering you complete control is a pretty potent stuff. But there's a big difference between an erotic spanking than from letting her know you wont tolerate her bad behavior. Sky learned that difference tonight. If you want to try it, I suggest you first warm your own girl to the idea with foreplay. If she's submissively receptive, believe me, you'll know. And be wary of the word 'submissive', because these women are in truth, anything but. Pun intended." "Maybe in the olden days, there were fewer divorces and because the differences were settled out in the woodshed, not in court?" "I've never had any compunction about spanking a women either erotically or as a disciplinary measure. But then again, I am in a position where I expect people to follow my orders because I am responsible for the health and welfare of a lot of lives. So while I'm secure in my decisions and actions, because I better be, my dominant behavior doesn't necessary hold true for others. Now, goodnight, sailor. I have a long, and hopefully, a more delightful night ahead of me." "You want me to leave?" Shockley looked so dumfounded; he had a hard time stifling the urge to laugh. Caleb shook his amused head, wondering how many others beside he and Sky had taken the private plunge into the pool in their birthday suits. Sam's eyes danced. "You don't miss much, do you, Cap'n?" "I certainly don't want you to stay for my finale, grand as it may be." "But I thought, ahh... well," he stammered. "The way you threw that bag and said I was going to play a part in her punishment." "You have. She's in there sweating bullets over my bag. And if I know Sky, and believe me I do, she'll come out spitting like a wild cat and I'll have to take her over my knee to tame her again. But, once she realizes you're gone, she will have learned the most important lesson of all." Shockley whipped off his hat and scratched his head. "Which is what Cap'n?" "To never play head games with a military strategist." He swirled his drink and then drained it. "If you don't mind my saying, Cap'n. You're one kinky master of your domain." He had to laugh at that. "Absolutely. If everyone sang in the same key, we'd never have harmony." He set his empty glass down with a decided thud. "And I believe in domestic harmony. She will greet the new day more serene and womanly and less of a wild child. Once I put out the fire in her feisty behind, of course. Now goodnight, Mister Shockley," he said more forcefully, the expression in his sea blue eyes unmistakably dismissive. Chapter Four Sam clutched the shiny brass doorknob, ready to exit the captain's office. Before he lost all his gumption, he swung around to face his superior officer. "Ahh, this spanking thing." He removed his hat, and raked his fingers through his curls. " It has me wondering. Oh. Forget it." He waved, returning his hat to his head. "I'll just take a cold shower." While he knew his petty officer was quite capable of verbalizing every detail of Sky's spanking to any scuttlebutt that cared to listen by a water cooler--which only served Sky right after her mischief--he felt sorry for the seaman. Sam had been a victim of Sky's scheming. He'd been on an emotional seesaw of thinking she was unattached and hoping there might be a romantic chance, to fearing he'd lose his job because he ever laid eyes on her-- and then wishing he hadn't. He could hardly blame Sam for wanting to throttle the incorrigible little tease himself, Caleb mused, and then locked the door to his cabin in order to momentary detain Sky, if the need arose, as he suspected it would, and shortly. He not only owed Sam a few minutes of his time, but his responsibility to the crew and passengers took precedence over his personal life and problems. If Sky wanted to become Mrs. Pennworth, she had to realize his world couldn't always revolve around her. Maybe under his firm but caring guidance she would eventually grow secure enough in his love, and in herself, to stop jealously viewing the Majestic Bounty as a mistress she must compete with. He needed her to work with him, not against him, if there was ever to be a chance of any connubial harmony. Caleb dropped into his swivel chair and he leaned back into tufted leather while Sam paced before his spacious desk. "For cryin' out loud, man. Spit those canary feathers out of your mouth, and be quick about it!" "Don't get me wrong, Cap'n. I am not lusting after what is yours." Sam stopped and gave him a search light look, as if seeking confirmation of his sincerity before he ventured into safer waters. I mean it's not like I've seen nothing new of her tonight. Sky and her girlfriends always wear those thong bikinis." "It may be a common site among some of our female vacationers aboard my ship, but Sky knows . . . employees and crew are expressly forbidden to parade about with their asses on display." "Well, no. They don't wear them onboard, sir. But I've seen them romping about like that on shore leave." "Oh really?" Caleb tamped down his annoyance at yet another unacceptable practice for the future Mrs. Pennworth. "She gives 'liberty' new meaning, does she?" "I've seen her shaking her shimmy on the beaches with her girlfriends, Marta Peru, you know, the pharmacist in the Binnacle Store? And that other one, Roberta DeMilo, she's--" "Yes, I know. Our hairstylist extraordinaire." "Well, I like to hang ten, Cap'n, and I was looking for the best waves, trying to find a more secluded area of the beach to surf. They didn't see me at first, but they sure looked like they were having a time of it, all rip-roaring drunk too by the sounds of it. Oh, hell, Cap'n," he hedged. "I don't have the heart to tell you the rest. Sky's butt's already red enough. I better get going." "No. Now that you opened this new can of worms. Please continue." "Sky, Roberta, and Marta, ahh, they were building a sandcastle." "Other than being three sheets to the wind and wearing thongs, it sounds innocuous enough." "They were as naked as the day they were born, sir. It was a nude beach." He recalled questioning Sky about her absence of tan lines and he half wondered if she was capable of telling the truth in her own diary. So . . . her uniformly golden brown skin was not entirely achieved from inside the tanning salons, but he'd certainly give her a twenty-minute tanning session of his own for lying to him. Again. "But the craziest thing," Shockley went on. "I was sure that none of them were authorized for a shore leave that day. When I called 'em on it, I'd like to split a gut laughing at they way they high-tailed it into the ocean. Sky and Roberta ducked down in the water. They looked really embarrassed. But that Marta Peru? She may look shy behind the counter in the Binnacle Store, so I'll bet it was the drink talking, but she stood straight up with her hands on her hips and tits sticking out. And the little bitch called me every foul name in the book. Swore she'd yank my Charley Noble right off and toss it to the sharks if I told on them. I wanted to haul her ass right outta that water and spank it. Ever get the feeling they're just asking for it--without asking for it? I've always had a powerful hankering to spank a naughty hell-raiser like that Marta, just like you did with your Sky." His petty officer was unknowingly offering him a solution to a very serious problem that had been giving him more than a few sleepless nights. "So why don't you visit Marta Peru and settle that unresolved itch on your palm?" he planted the seed. Sam puffed out his chest like rooster ready for the hen house. "You know . . . when I signed for those Fleets in the Binnacle Store, Marta said she knew a better cure for constipation if I was interested. But I was too nervous about being tossed overboard at full steam to pay much mind." They both laughed at that, and then Sam's laughter stalled. "Yeah, but I thought employees and crew dating each other was grounds for dismissal." "One of the other declarations I didn't get to announce over the microphone was how the executives ended those antiquated cruise regulations. Not just for me, but for all. I guess this means my chief engineer can come out the boiler room over his steamy affair with, Roberta." "You don't miss a trick do you, Cap'n?' "No." Caleb raised both brows. "And with your help, perhaps I can--" He was interrupted by a loud crash of shattering glass, as if Sky had chucked, something--the bath brush at the liquor cabinet--he guessed, by the sounds of it. Silence then fell, as if the red haze cleared and she suddenly realized she was alone in the room. The doorknob jiggled behind him and she pounded on it like a house arrest. "Alright! Let me out of here," Sky shrilled. "Ewh!" she kicked it. "Do you here me, Caleb! I want out!" Caleb held a silencing finger to his lips and then pressed a button on his phone, essentially hailing himself from an inside line. The men listened to the persistent ringing from both the desk and behind the door. "What!" Sky answered as if ready to jump through the wires and strangle the disrupter of her justified tizzy with the cord. "Simmer down!" Caleb barked into the intercom. "Go straight to hell," she fired back, and Sam winced at her idiocy. "The only way to straighten you out is to bend you over, Miss O'Keefe," his tone was velvet edge in steel. "You may be one of the most beautiful, wonderfully witty women I ever met, but lately you don't smart enough in the right place. Did it ever occur to you that I might have been called away over sudden storm conditions or some other impending ship business?" "Is there a storm brewing?" she asked, suddenly fearful. "Only within these walls," he muttered satirically. "I suggest that whatever you broke during your tantrum, you clean up. Immediately, if not sooner. And take care not to cut yourself." "No! Would you like to know what I want to cut off right now?" "I believe you've already done that, honey," his words were playful but his meaning was not. "For more than a month." "Well you're bedroom door can stay closed until doomsday for all I care," she plunged on. "Because I'm leaving you." "Oh? Why's that?" he inquired, blasé. "You know damned well why! You may be a backdoor man, but if you think for one minute I'll ever permit Popeye The Sailorman to stick anything up my behind, not once, but twice, your deluded!" Caleb wiped the grin from his exasperated face. "Have a little more respect for my crewman and refrain from name-calling, Olive Oil." He tapped a pencil on his desk. "Why blame Sam for a web of your own weaving?" "Sam? Oh, so now you're on a first name basis are you? Well, I more than paid for my Dances With Wolves when Sam watched you spank me," she seethed. "I agree." "You do?" "And I never at any time ever intended to allow another man to touch you in such an intimate way, Sky," he informed plainly. "Huh?" "You heard me." "But you said--" "How does feel to be on the receiving end of your own brand of manipulative medicine, Missy?" Her long and silent pause told him his point had been well taken. He could almost picture her twisting the telephone cord as her stomach did the same. "Not very good," she finally answered in a small, very different tone of voice. "I was wondering how you could even suggest such a thing after you found my dancing with him so unholy." "It was unholy. But I'm pleased you feel so strongly about not having another man touch you. You gave me plenty of reason to wonder about that." "Oh, God, Caleb," she gushed. "I know. I gave you reason to wonder about a lot of things. How could I ever treat the man I adore so abysmally? I know you don't believe me, and I don't blame you after all my lies. But I'm sorry. I really, really am." "I believe you," he replied with a sympathetic sigh. "I wouldn't have bothered to--" "I deserved to be spanked!" she expounded. "I've been totally out of control. Absolutely horrid. I'm going to make it all up to you, apologize to your parents, stop being jealous of--" "So you agree you need a man strong enough to guide you, show you all the attention you crave, put you in your place when you need it?" "I needed it tonight, Caleb," she agreed wholeheartedly. "I need you in my life. I can be my own worst enemy. I somehow lost my compass and you gave me new direction. Unbelievably, that spanking made me feel, I don't know, so much better. Brand new. Motivated to improve." "I'm glad the discipline inflicted on the one end made an impression the other. But setting limits and standards on yourself so others won't have to, is always the best course. I'd much rather share laughter and kisses with you, and spankings of a sweeter nature." "Oh, Caleb, you've open so many doors for me tonight . . ." she sounded so sweet, so like her old self, the women he adored. "Open this one now, darling," she cooed. "Let me welcome you with open arms. Make love to me? I've missed you. . . So much." He didn't think he'd been this tempted since he had battled with frustration and lust after the first time he'd laid eyes on her. Sky had emerged from the pool, hair seal slick and diamond droplets on her lashes, and her covetous eight knot figure was barely clad in a dripping, eclectic blue string bikini that had him holding his breath, fearful of drowning. 'Pool's not open to the public for another two hours,' she informed him, obviously not recognizing him out of uniform, an annoyed that her private swim had been interrupted. 'I believe you can make an exception for me,' he had answered with a dry throat. 'I don't make the rules, mister.' She had shrugged, still without making direct eye contact and toweling her hair, and then she sashayed away with a curvy sashay his hand itched to smack. "But I do." That stopped her mid stride and she swung around. 'Is that a proposal?' She asked in a bored voice, retying the strings at her hip. "You 'do' what?" 'I make the rules aboard this ship.' She looked up at him, pretty face falling with recognition. And so it went. . . The first spark that lit the fuse to the heat-seeking missile on his prohibited affair. "Caleb . . .?" her questing voice brought him out of his lusty reminiscence. "Let's make love." He reminded himself that when he had told her 'he made the rules' on that fated first day, she had systematically set out to break every single one from there-on- after. "What about your bottom? He cleared the final crossroad in his throat. "Is it terribly sore?" "Oh, only a bit where the brush broke," she sang. "It left a tiny mark like a love bite. But the rest's not as red anymore," she chirped, and he could picture her twisting around to view her delightful derriere. "Actually . . . it feels much better," she purred. "So if you're worried about--" "Good," he cut her off at the pass. "I thought I might have to wait until morning to re-heat it." He let her hang in stunned silence. "Pardon me?" she asked, denying the inevitable. "I can't pardon you when it comes to undermining my authority aboard this ship. I can't let it slide simply because we're lovers, Sky. For one, favoritism is counterproductive example to set. And if you're ever to become Mrs. Pennworth, it's time you learned that your actions may be your own, but the consequences are not. Now. . . Do you still want to leave?" "No," her shaky little girl voice was barely audible. "Are you're going to do exactly as I say? Listen very carefully to my orders, to the letter, this time?" "Yes," she sighed forlornly. He slid the pencil into the holder. "Yes what?" "Yes, sir," she replied dutifully. He scrubbed his face with his hands. "Press the speakerphone button before you hang up." He waited for her click. "Can you still hear me?" "Yes, sir," her voice rose an octave. "I want you to stand in the nearest corner with your nose to the wall. And I hope for your sake you're wearing that red dress I asked you to put on the first time because you're in enough trouble as it is," he instructed sternly. "Can I burn it when this is over?" "After I burn your abaft with that bath brush you threw. Now hike that sexy red number up in the back and hold it around your hips. Have you done that?" "Yes, sir," she answered miserably. He could almost see her face flame in the corner of his minds eye. "Good. Those stringy panties you're so fond of sporting and not sporting on the nude beaches? They should exhibit your cute little Coppertone bum to perfection when I tan it. . . Without the aid of oil. In fact, you're going to need Solar Cain by the time I'm through. But before I join you, it won't hurt you to reflect on your misdeeds." "I don't want to think about how horrid I've been anymore," she whined. "My brain is sore. I want to get it over with now. Standing here feels more awful than when Shockley watched." "Well, now that you've mentioned Sam, I want you to listen, very carefully, to my conversation with him." "He's in there with you!" "He won't be once I open that door. So open your ears and keep your mouth closed if know what's good for you, because I'm in no mood to repeat myself. I've been up since five this morning and it's now," he eyed his hairy wrist. "You have my watch. What is the time?" "You've been up for 20 hours but I feel like I've been in this corner for twenty years." "Well now that sleep is out of the question," he said testily. "Listen and absorb. I want you to understand exactly why I'm going to spank the living daylights out of you. Again." He rolled back his chair, stood up, and pushed his hands deep into his pockets. "Mister, Shockley?" "I'm all ears, Cap'n." "Marta Peru, Roberta DeMilo, and Sky O'Keefe are fond of stowing away on the passenger tenders for unauthorized shore excursions to the islands," Caleb supplied. "And they acquired, and I use the term lightly, the motorized inflatable on their last jaunt." "That's grounds for immediate dismissal, Cap'n." "Absolutely. But I'm offering them a choice of termination or corporal punishment. You have my permission to take Marta to task for her insubordination since she's keen on you. And I want you to pass this on to my chief engineer where Roberta is concerned. It is either that, or the sack, and I don't mean bed. As I said, they have a choice. And they leave me no other choice, since revoking their ship privileges hasn't corrected the problem. If Marta bulks, you may want to remind her that when she was swinging on the bow rail like a drunken sailor she would've have fallen if I wouldn't have happened along." "Good point." Sam grinned from ear to ear. "And she wasn't seasick when she tossed, I believe it was too much tequila, onto the promenade deck. It was highly unfair to my deckhands that she didn't clean it up herself. And you can tell her . . . 'I'm' the one who carried her to her cabin that night . . . since I know Marta doesn't remember how she got there. And Sky and Roberta? I hear their singing not only woke up half the passengers on deck four during the wee hours, but their dirty ditties could have curled every head of hair in Roberta's salon. The next day the passenger's complaints filled three answering machines. Seems nobody had opened the Binnacle Store, the hair salon, or the fitness rooms. The girls were too busy sleeping it off." "Passenger complaints are not what were about, Cap'n." "Now I realize how hard everyone works to keep the wheels of their vacations turning. There're days when tact is the ability to make them feel at home even when you wished that they were. That's why I have no objections to the crew or employees letting off steam when off duty," he said in a calm voice. "I have no objection to an occasional hall or cabin party when it's kept to your end of the ship," he used the same tone. "But I have every objection to employees who are paid to cater to their whims and are disturbing their sea of tranquility!" he hollered and her bottom actually flinched at the tongue-lashing. "Would you like me to sail a flag of my true colors, Miss O'Keefe, or do I make myself clear?" "Perfectly, sir." "Good. Because you and your girlfriends are the worst offenders." "I'll speak to them about it, Caleb," Sky offered. "As only a ringleader should. And that's not all, Mister Shockley. These beautiful partners in crime may resemble angels, but they are playing with the devil and the deep blue with these boat jaunts. They're damned lucky I didn't decide to blow the bilges when they cast off, because I could have capsized that inflatable, and none of them were in any condition to swim. Even sober, the backwash from this vessel would have sucked them under the keel. But they made it to land, didn't they? God bless their Irish, Italian, and Brazilian hearts. We eat wild oats for breakfast. Made it past the coastguard, too. If they would've been caught, operating a boat under the influence may carry a heavy fine for a first time offenders in our own waters, but these Islands though beautiful, are still located in a third world country. Incarceration in these jails would be a nightmare. Did I mention Marta's hair wreaked of marijuana?" "No, Cap'n. First I heard tell of this bad news." "Well, it would take years to spring them on that sort of bust, even with the help of Amnesty International. And if there are any illegal substances aboard my ship, Miss O'Keefe? It better be fish food by morning." "Yes, I see what you mean about the consequences of my actions, sir." He chuckled without humor. "You're going to feel them, too. So you see, Mister Shockley, I would be doubly grateful if you and Gabriel could make Marta and Roberta see the lighthouse so to speak." Leaning in toward his desk he yelled the last, "Because I already have my hands more than full between trying to run a tight ship without dealing with your irresponsible bullshit!" He smacked the button off, not wanting her to hear the rest, and leaving her with plenty to ponder while her shaking little red shoes and cooling bottom awaited the third and final act of her punishment play. He half wondered if he'd have any energy left for his intimate encore, but he was determined she'd get it from him, and in more ways than one. And she would welcome him home into that virginal little port of call, and gladly. "If you ask me, a spanking for these girls is getting off easy." Sam shook his head at the gravity of their actions. "You're a fair and just man, Cap'n." "I doubt they'll agree when they have a hard time sitting at my dinning table tomorrow night," he grumbled, and he scrutinized Shockley with a somewhat jaundiced eye. While he didn't particularly care for whistle blowers, his petty officer fit the bill, and could see no other alternative in protecting these women from themselves. "I'm giving you a direct order to keep a covert eye on these sea sirens. I want to know if any of them are planning any more shenanigans. Aside from nipping any international incidents in the bud, they spell nothing but trouble when they get together. They're enough to make Pollyanna go on Prozac." "Proud to be in your service, Cap'n. Marta has a hitch in her jig- along that could fill an guys hands to overflowing," Sam waggled his brows. "Hear Brazilian girls like to tango, too." "Course-plotting a female back on the proper heading is not always pleasant. But once they have learned their lesson and all is forgiven, theirs is the sweetest sailing of all, and well worth the effort. But be warned, sailor. Don't ever be fooled by their sweet serenity after you've steered their rudders leeward. Women are as unpredictable as the sea. Their true natures will rise up like a tsunami and hit you astern when you least expect it. And take care not to fall asleep while you're at the helm. . . Or they'll run you aground." SAILORS DELIGHT Chapter Five Captain Pennworth filled the entry with battle ship solidarity, his hands on his white clad hips and his muscular legs planted wide. He scrutinized her standing dutifully in the corner, slowly taking in her scarlet dress, the flounces gathered up around her hips, his gaze lingering on her sun bronzed, bottom cheeks delineated by a mere red string. She made a move to face him. "Stay right where you are!" he ordered, his voice was hoarse from overuse. "And not a word out of you. I plan to look at you for a good long while before I spank you." He lit and cuffed a cigar to life, sank into a leather chair, and with his hands planted on the rolling arms, his posture and pose reminded her of Lincoln's stern statue. While he brazenly studied the now hated outfit, Sky remembered how she had imagined how wonderfully sexy a peek of her gartered stockings would look while she tangoed. When she had tripped, and her dress had flown up like Marilynn Monroe's famous photo, the momentary embarrassment she suffered was nothing compared to this. She felt ridiculous in her strappy high heels, standing in the corner, with her naughty bum on display, awaiting a spanking. But why-oh-why did her body betray her with this ever-present pulsing between her legs? Would her partners in crime respond in the same way? And she realized just how humiliated Caleb must have felt during her whorish dance in front of his parents. He'd forgiven her for that, just as he'd pardoned her for shamelessly leading Shockley on because he happened to be a good dancer and was a looker who'd compliment her on the dance floor. Knowing that Shockley had a big mouth, and hoping he would help spread rumors that that they might become an item would shake Caleb up and make him take action . . . although a spanking wasn't exactly the action or the attention she had counted on. She'd been so insanely jealous of the flirtatious featherbrains who were interested everything about him. And why wouldn't a handsome, single, successful, charming, humorous man who could carry on a conversation without making a person snore intrigue them? She should have been secure in his devotion after he willing risked his career, everything he held dear, for her. She'd be engaged to married and celebrating the fact by now if she had not stupidly doubted his love. If she had trusted him, had talked to him about her fears and insecurities, and not worried so much about her damnable pride, none of this would have happened. She brought it all on herself. Something in her make-up had made her feel revalidated and revitalized by being taken to task. No one ever cared enough to put a stop to bad behavior and set her back on the right track. She hadn't the foggiest notion why she reacted so positively or sexually to this sort of attention. Before she met Caleb, if any other man would have attempted anything of the sort, she probably would have kneed him in the balls. But then she had never loved the others . . . or respected them very much. She was used to twisting men around her little finger, but Caleb saw past a pretty face and cared for her as a person, faults, and all. If she skated on thin ice around him, she'd find herself in hot water. It was as simple as that. Deciding to take Caleb's advice and not to think it to death, realizing some things were meant to remain a mystery, she considered herself lucky to have found a supportive, devoted, and lusty lover who could be as kind and gentle, as he was stern. Caleb would never have spanked her without good reason, and she had given him plenty! She had provoked him beyond the limits. Any male worth his salt had a limit. She certainly didn't want to breeze down the isle of no returns with a Mister Milquetoast who would ask her how high he should jump before he said I do. And he had forgiven her for all that, but not allowing her to speak now, making her wait, and wait and wait so submissively in this utterly embarrassing corner, all the while smoking his cigar and staring, contemplating her bottom like a slave at auction while her mind remorsefully reviewed her misdeeds . . . but breaking the ship rules had yet to be addressed. And her anxiety and trepidation grew to astronomical proportions. She fidgeted under his unwavering stare and began to wonder . . . what would he do to her now with that fleet's awaiting, and just how painful would this lesson be? She couldn't bear another moment of this torture! "You're not going to purge me with those . . . are you?'" she blurted, fearfully eyeing the Fleet boxes atop the bar. Caleb crushed out the cigar, raked his fingers back though his silver threaded hair, and then he strode to the leather chaise lounge and fixed her with a no-nonsense stare. "No, " he said as if speaking to a child who annoyed him. "Lucky for you, I decided that would be counterproductive to my plans to navigate my neglected Moby into that uncharted, sunless region yours. But make no mistake. If you EVER rock my boat again with your antics -- I won't hesitate to use them. Now. Find that bath brush you threw and get over here." She flew out of the despised corner. Noticing a shiny black box on the accent table with red and gold oriental lettering, she raised her questioning eyes to him. "You'll find out soon enough," he said, his implacable expression unnerving. "And if you bulk, even once, you'll get a preface spanking on your naughty addendum." She handed him the bath brush and he set it on the table. "On the end of the chaise lounge. Now!" With her high heels pointed at his knees, she held the hemline of her dress tight across her rump, bunching it at the sides. The abundance of red silk up front was maddening as she scooted her knees flush against her breasts. "Take your hands away." The red silk slipped down over the small of her back towards her upside-down head and the rush of cool air on her naked buttocks made her silently curse the red string . . . but thankfully . . . the scanty panty shielded her damp vulva. "Don't pretend you're not nubile. Reach your butt up to the sky. It doesn't count unless it burns, isn't that what you tell them in your classes? Well I'm going to give you a bun burning exercise you're not likely to forget. Up I said! Get that pretty petunia perpendicular so I can see all of it." He tucked the folds of her dress into her garter belt and then hooked a finger under the string, and with each little tug and hoist he gave her, she lubricated even more. "Do you understand why you need this?" The string gave way, and he whisked away the triangle gusset covering her denuded lips, her creamy secret revealed. He rummaged at the reading table. "Are you going to hold still through this modus operandi?" When he opened the lid to the shiny black teak case, she caught a glimpse of red velvet out of the corner of her eye, but she was unable to view the contents inside from her headstand. She heard plastic cellophane crinkle and tear. "Well?" "Yes, " she whimpered, and then the touch of his dominant fingers prying her cheeks open made her dizzy. Something oily. . And with a strong spicy scent dribbled over her anal opening and coursed down her swollen nether lips onto her throbbing clitoris, mingling with her guilty juices. His possessive hands came away. "Spread them apart for me. Wider! Good. Hold them open like that." He worked his index finger gradually, gently into her tight anal aperture. "Relax your sphincter," he coaxed until the ring of muscle gave way and his digit was fully sheathed. When his hefty finger moved in and out of her rectal canal, lubricating her, it was so embarrassing, yet it spread further heat throughout her sex, driving her mad with a soft, sensual motion she never thought would illicit such pleasure, and her mortification at this unwanted response increase immeasurably. "This will help prepare you for my navigation into this virginal port of call." He smacked her with one hand, not very hard, on either side of his sheath finger until her flesh re-bloomed with a rosy glow. "Ohh, stop," she pleaded with a flaming face. "Why?" He withdrew his finger. "It can't possibly hurt." "No. It feels wonderful," she purred and wiggled her hips in invitation. "You're not supposed to enjoy it," he growled "You're meant to take everything I said to you in there seriously. 'Wonderful' will come after I spank the living daylights out of you." Her eyes widened when he held a glistening, six-inch long, flesh-colored rubber phallus in front of her nose. It was pointed at the tip, very wide at the end, where it narrowed quite sharply before a flanged cap that she assumed would protrude. She moaned in protest as he placed the tip to her tiny pink rosette and began to screw it in bit-by-bit, reaming her slowly. Her sphincter ring rebelled against the final intrusion. "Oh it's too wide there! It'll tear me! I can't." She clenched her cheeks and pushed with an expelling grimace, but he held it still and fast. "Relax. Don't fight it." He finger-fucked her fast and furiously, until she felt the hysteria of pleasure rising up in her throat. "The feeling of being filled, along will the girth of the plug will help accustom you for my larger entry." Desire for him overrode everything else, and her rectum welcomed the absolute width and depth, her anal ring clamping around the narrow like pursed lips, and fully packed, and capped, a loud cry escaped her lips. Her body shuddered, flooding, an uncontrolled dam break of delirium. "Seems your embargo affected you more than me," he gave a half laugh, and then he hauled her hips up, abruptly bringing her up onto her feet. Unzipping her dress, his was breath warm and heavy on her nape. He tugged the tucked flounces out of the garter belt circling her tiny waist. The material fell in a silken pool of around her ankles. He helped her to step out of the crimson circle, and he shoved it aside with his shoe. Caleb then swung her around, and he roughly freed her breasts from her matching demi bra. With her nipples jutting out at him like twin rubies, and dressed in nothing but her whorish garters, thigh high stockings, and ridiculously high heels, she felt more exposed than if stark naked. He gave her long and slow dust up before he reclined on the chaise lounge. With his long masculine legs stretched out in front of him, he crooked a stern finger and indicated his lap with the onerous bath brush. "Climb aboard." The chaise was s low; her knees and elbows rested easily on the carpet while his hard mizzenmast of a cock traversed the soft flesh of her tummy. He tapped the slim, long brush handle, repeatedly, over the plug, not very hard, but it electrified her moist core with other shocking sensations that she knew would eventually mimic the motion of his Moby. When the brush smacked down beside the plug, it wasn't terribly painful. . Her bottom quickly warmed and pinked as he alternated smacks from cheek to cheek. And his toy . . . it definitely made her more sensitive to every stinging crack imparted. Why her sex throb almost continuously while she imagined him taking her there! Her hips ascended to greet each descending spank, encouraging him. "Are you ever going undermine my rules aboard this ship again?" His curt voice lashed at her with resurgence of renewed and sudden anger that made her stomach drop forty floors. He began to smack her much harder and faster then, with unremitting thoroughness, until she forgot about the new and pleasurable sensations of the plug, until the deep, and increasingly forceful, muscle pounding made her rebounding, jiggling orbs bloom like two red hot house orchids. "Yeow! Please stop. Please now!" She dug her fingernails into the carpet; the pointed toes of strappy red shoes did a little dance, the heels pumping up and down in a crazy fandango out of time with the rhythm of the hated brush. "I promise! I'll be good! I swear tah' gaaaawd. I'll never ever mess with you again," she had no idea what she was saying as she wiggled like an insane eel. When he dropped the hated meat cleaver of a paddle on the floor, she thanked her lucky stars, but before she could recover her breath, he began to plow his cupped palm upward at his favored targets, persistently striking the two lowest bull eyes and driving her forward with more thrusting stings. "You could have been killed in that inflatable you little fool!" He said through clenched teeth, furious, and he began to seriously murder her bum. The ceaseless and severe spanking he gave her seemed an eternity of raw, skin-incinerating discipline the likes of which she hadn't experience . . . until now. Sky wondered if it would NEVER end, this painful, punishing point he was now making "Please, Caleb. No more!" she sobbed, and he ignored her full-throated shrieks, crazy pleas, even her tears, never letting up with loud gunshot cracks delivered with the speed of a semi- automatic, and the continuous blast of buckshot to her bottom set it ablaze. This-this red retribution made her wonder if she was bleeding, if her skin was gone, if she would EVER be able to sit again! The moment she thought would surely faint or perish from his terrible, tanning ordeal, finally, mercifully, he stopped, and then let her up. Nose running and red, she clumsily danced and rubbed her hot red moons vigorously with both hands, the protuberant plug bobbing just as wildly. "Please say you won't spank me again! I can't bare it!" she implored, and sniffled. "Say it's over!" He stood, and gripping her shoulders to still her wild dance, he gave her a small rough turn to admire his handiwork. "I plan to slather your lovely pussy with honey and give you another 'licking' you'll undoubtedly find much more enjoyable. Then I will fuck you blind with my neglected Moby, and all will be forgiven." He swatted her again for good measure and she scurried her back into the wall, hiding and shielding her abused bum as if it was suddenly flammable and he held a lighted match. "But first . . . after the day I've had, I'm going to take a long hot shower that should undo the kink in my shoulder. " He glanced at the mess she made near her feet. " That should leave you plenty of time to clean up that glass broken during your little tantrum and to think about the lessons you've learned. And you have learned your lesson, haven't you, Sky." "Oh yes. Yes, sir! I mean." She'd NEVER again break the ship rules simply because the captain was her lover. " I-I won't ev---" " Take care not to cut yourself." He turned for the stateroom, unbuttoning his shirt. "Uhm. Can I take this out please?" She blushed, sensitively touching the embarrassing butt plug. "Absolutely not," he said in a tone and look that brooked no argument. "When I'm finished showering, I'LL be the one to remove it," he clarified in no uncertain terms, and opening the pretty Oriental box on the accent table, he retrieved an item that resembled a pager. Tossing it the air once and catching it, he disappeared into the master stateroom. Sky gave a start when she heard the bathroom door shut. Caleb was still very much in control. Even in his absence, which she guessed was his intent. Every time she bent to clean up the glass she had broken during her tirade, she became acutely aware of the stretching action of his anal toy. She found herself in a feverish state of nervous anticipation and mounting arousal. After the initial pain during the deep insertion of the widest part of the phallic plug, she'd no longer found it uncomfortable. It sensitized her bottom with outrageously sexy expectations. She had never had anal sex before, was truly a virgin in that regard, and the curiosity, the delicious naughtiness factor inflamed her. And his promise of a giving her 'licking' she'd find more enjoyable drove her absolutely crazy. She was more than ready for her final comeuppance, if it could even be called that . . . Although he had warned her that come morning her rear end would probably be sore, and from more than his spankings. With the last of the glass swept into the pan, and her despised red dress gingerly deposited in rubbish, she made her way, submissively, into her master's bedroom. Dressed in nothing but her red gartered stockings and high heels as he preferred, bra cups pulled down, breasts jutting proudly and nipples exposed as he had ordained, Sky curled up on her side amidst the ocean of black velvet on his four-poster bed. Staring out the floor to ceiling windows, she watched the huge red moon vanished into the twilight sea. Did it sizzle as much as her well-spanked bottom? Caleb . . . he had always had an unusually robust sexual appetite; he was ingenious with positions and places; in the elevators, the atrium, and gym, Jacuzzi . . . once when they been alone on the bridge. How she enjoyed the forbidden thrill of knowing that any minute a crewmember, passenger, employee could catch them in the act. When he wanted to fuck, he could be fast and furious, or long and leisurely. He was delightfully perverted, deliciously kinky, and highly imaginative; he captured and conquered, she surrendered to his demands and enjoyed the most intense orgasms as a result. Trying to control such a dominant and domineering man by withholding sex with outright lies. . . That was her worst faux pas. . . . Suddenly the rectal plug began to hum as if it had a life of it's own, and Sky's eyes flew wide. That pager he tossed into the air! His toy began vibrating slowly inside her canal, building in intensity with exquisite sensations, a zinging, wonderfully swirling feel that electrified her entire sex, her entire body. Wave upon wave of soaring sensations, and great surges of maddening heavier stimulation made her thigh muscles tense and strain. Her back arched high, her hips ground into the pillow she thrust between her thighs. She bit her first, on the verge of climaxing, and then the vibrations suddenly, cruelly stopped. Moaning in frustration, her hand skimmed to her denuded mons and she clothed it with the intense urge to bring herself off. If she didn't cum or she would die! Suddenly a hand out of nowhere gripped her wrist. She felt his sinking weight on the bed and instinctively knew not to turn to him. The heady clean smell of him was intoxicating; damp hair and skin, soap and Halston. "Watch in the dresser mirror," he instructed and she complied. Clad in his favorite white terry robe, a smile crinkled the corners of his rousing blue eyes before his gaze fell to her bottom. His poured a Jasmine scented lotion into his palms, and placed his slathered hands to her cheeks, massaging her pliable flesh, easing some of the sting there and making her sex pulse further from his tender ministrations. "Now that you're used to feeling full and comfortably widened," he rasped, and his fingers separated her buttocks. "And you've been ahh, filled with my good vibrations, you'll enjoy having me fuck this virginal port of call." When removed the plug she felt empty and oddly disappointed. "Now stand up. I want you over there." He indicted the dresser and she anxiously obeyed. She could feel his surging physical examination with a response as age old as the sea; her nipples contracted to hard pebbles as if touched and her loins suffused with wet warmth. He then scanned her gartered torso and navel, lingering on her denuded mons until she blushed, and nervously toyed with the hooks of her stockings, shifted her weight in her high heels. Finally, he strode to her, and bending down slightly, he took her mouth in a primitive act of domination, a kiss meant to conquer, not comfort, a savage conquest. She lifted her hands to his shoulders, divesting him of his robe with ripping movements. His cock sprang free; the cinnamon colored shaft impossibly thick, the protuberant veins pulsing along the length, the knob bobbing like a ripe plum, the soft furry sacks, all of it was so inviting. The tiny slit at the crown glistened with a single liquid pearl she thumbed, and thrilled by the dew of his desire for her she longed to taste, lick, and suck every inch of him. His mouth was so warm and wet and demanding as he pressed every inch of his rugged body to hers, his hard arousal now free of her hand rode high on her soft belly, eliciting a swirling ache to be filled by him. . . Everywhere. She opened her lips with a small cry of wonder and his tongue moved over hers with rough thrusts that emulated his meaning. Pulling away from her mouth with a tearing reluctance, his gaze locked with hers as he grasped her hips, and suddenly, he lifted her onto the dresser. She gasped as impaled her, hard and deep. "My God you're beautiful, and I adore you. But damn you, you really pissed me off." She wrapped her legs around him in answer, and gave herself over to his demanding thrusts, his throbbing angry hardness, and his punishing, piston driving strength. A fevered groan escaped his lips and he jerked inside her with violent consuming bursts, and riding on his white-hot crest, he smothered her own climatic cry with his mouth, the intense craving they had for each other leaving them breathless and slick skinned and temporally satiated. He then carried her to bed, and laid her gently across the coverlet with her legs dangling over the side of the mattress. She shivered when she watched him opened the lid to a jar of honey, and then he knelt on the floor and removed her shoes. Positioning her heels on his shoulders, he spread her thighs wide. Her entire body quivered with excitement. "I'm going to enjoy this appetizer before the main course," his deep voice, his implied intent had her tottering on the verge again. He opened her neither lips with his fingers, making her feel more exposed. Dribbling honey over her distended stamen, it oozed into the unfurled petals, mingling with their copious juices, flowing thickly over her quivering anal rosette. Damp silver-shot hair tickled her inner thighs and felt cool against her overheated skin. His labored breath fanned her with warm air, adding to the dizzy sensations. When the hard tip of his tongue flicked at her stamen her eyes rolled back in delicious abandon and hips thrust up. His tongue traveled, lapping and she sank her fingers into his hair as if hanging on for dear life. His baptizing tongue dipped into her anal orifice and her every nerve ending vibrated like tightly strung bow. His fingers sank deep into her vagina while he reamed her rectum with his tortuous lips and tongue. Her thin string of control snapped. The room spun and she fell, screaming his name, overflowing with her own warm honey. Pulling her paralyzed form up, he turned her over onto her tummy, shoving her across the bed like a boneless rag doll. He shoved a pillow beneath her. Hooking an arm around her waist, he brought her up onto all fours. Kneeling behind her, he slid his hand under, cupping her denuded, satiny mound. His cock sprang to life again at the sight and feel and aroma of her this way. And inch, by slow inch he fed it into her drenched vagina. Her internal muscles came to life and she gripped him tightly as if she could draw him into the hilt. "Oh dear, God. Fuck me, fast. Please now, before I go insane," she pleaded, thrusting her frustrated hips back, her well-spanked bottom forcing the issue; she began to rock of her own accord. He gripped her hips and withdrew from her snug vagina, his Moby swaying and shiny with her sap. When she whined for more like a spoilt child deprived of candy in a store, he playfully swatted her undulating buttocks, bringing back more color and heat, reminding her of how sore she still was from the real thing. "Who's at helm here?" "You are," she groaned, not caring if thwarted desire had made her so shamelessly wanton. "How can you stop? It's cruel." "That's what you get for your month of indifference." She heard him chuckle, felt his radiating heat, his chest hair tickling and teasing her spine. His rugged body hovering over her made her feel small and soft and sexy. "Are you ever going to lie or deny me again, my little whore?" his deep voice resonated through her as he drew aside the curtain of her hair to kiss her nape, eliciting a shivers. "God, no," she cooed. He cupped her breasts. "Are you going to be a good girl from now on? Keep those dance moves confined to my bed?" He tweaked her hardened nipples until she mewed pretty yeses. An invisible cord sizzled down her torso and sparked her clitoris with each tug and squeeze. "Now I want you to beg me to navigate my neglected Moby into this uncharted region." The thick shaft of his penis skimmed up her outer lips, the crown resting against her anal rose, now loose, and curiously empty and well oiled and highly aroused from the vibrating plug. And the mere memory of those sensations made her yearns for more; yearn to be filled there . . . by him. "Oh please, Yeees. There . . ." He pushed the tip of his penis, ever so slightly against her tight repelling anal ring. "Wait!" She reached back to clutch him, prevent his intrusion. The thought of him suddenly driving his fearfully enormous rod into her tiny orifice had her clenching her butt cheeks. "When are you going to learn to trust me?" His scolding made her lubricate more. "Go slow?" her voice trembled. "I will. Do I have to spank you again before you welcome me home?" He repeatedly smacked her anal bud with the head of his cock, and his actions drove her wild while the threat of another session over the knee made her melt back against him. "Very Good. It will only hurt if you fight me. Don't contract. Don't repel. You need to be taken like this and you know it," he gentled her fears and fanned the sparks of her arousal with a light strumming of his thumb on her engorged clitoris. "Take big deep breaths. Relax. Relax. That's it. Open to me," he coaxed; feeding the head between and into her separated rosy red apples. The ring widened and he popped into her rectum, and the voluptuously new sensation spread a slow heat through her tingling bottom. "You are going to accommodate, all of me, willingly, aren't you, Sky?" "Yes, sir, " she replied, slipping into her submissiveness role at his warning tone. Gradually he fed his inflamed member in another two inches. She never felt so utterly subservient, so open to his commands, so impelling simulated under his prodigious knowledge of the sexual arts. "I want you to count aloud the number of times I penetrate you fully. I want to know that you've learn your fucking lesson tonight." He stuffed three more inches into her and she teetered on the edge of culmination. "This will teach you not to lie or deny me." "I'm sorry," she whimpered, but at this point she wasn't sure why, it felt so wonderfully sexy as he gently heaved himself into her bottom. "You better be," he scolded, and pulled his cock almost all of the way out and drove his point home. "One," she gasped. "Oh God, three," she whimpered, skipping 'two' in her delirium. Her breathless voice rose with each subsequent exit and deep penetration, and by the tenth stroke her brain fogged, falling under as if drugged. He began to plunge harder and faster, slapping against her rosy red buttocks. Lost in sheer abandoned, she rocked back to greet him with equal vigor, and it sounded and felt like her first erotic spanking. He swatted her buttocks and her thigh when she lost count. Her sex convulsed almost throughout his taking of her virginal bottom, and by the twentieth power packed thrust of his hips, she shuddered and creamed, her inner thighs bathed with pearly ecstasy as she bit the pillow. He withdrew his sword sharply, his seed spilling over her anal rosette, shooting high over the small of her back. She reached back and spread his monumental release over her buttocks like a healing balm, feeling his cock twitch as it nested between her crack. He rolled her wreaked body on top of his, and legs entwined, he skimmed the bumps of her spine with his hand while she listened to his thundering heartbeat slow. "You're a sailors delight," he sighed. The morning sun streamed though the windows and onto the bed, bathing them in a soft warm glow. They watched the blinding dazzle of the sun's path, a sparkle diamonds on a quiet turquoise sea. "It turned out to be a beautiful day," Caleb remark with buoyant pleasure. "But all a captain needs to plot course a vessel in trouble and steer her straight during rough seas is decent a set of eyes and a good head for figures." "It's called a 'Dead Reckoning' isn't it?" "And I'm the sailor who will set you straight with a dead reckoning whenever you're naughty. You see, I figured what's been missing from your mizzenmast is a small white flag called a 'spanker' that whips like the dickens at the stern under a good tail wind." "Uhm..." she purred and snuggled deeper with a smile of pleasant exhaustion. "I feel brand spanking new. . . Thanks to you." "Good," he said, inhaling her hair. "Because I want you to join me for dinner at my table tonight. It's time you took your rightful place, beside me. How do you feel about a old fashioned wedding at sea, Sky?" She rose up on an elbow to looked into his devilishly dancing eyes. "With you in full regalia and manning the helm?" "And will you 'won't' be wearing red." "Can ship captains marry themselves?" she teased, withholding her answer. "No." He yawned with drowsy lids. "But I know an Admiral I'd like you to meet tonight who'd be willing," he mumbled with a yawn. "Yes," Sky whispered, but Caleb had fallen asleep. Brushing a stray lock of silver hair back from his handsome forehead, her head sank into his chest, silky blonde tresses fanning over him. And she drifted off, afloat in a serene, submissive sea . . . immersed in his dominance. The End.