Under the Lash by Carolyn Faulkner Page A

and slowly entered her, keeping his hold on her thighs lest she should take it into her head to try to move away.
    Cassie, however, was well beyond that. She knew, somewhere, somehow, outside of the haze that had descended within her own mind that she should have been protesting what he was doing to her, but she couldn’t find the will to do it. Especially since – unlike the previous instance – every bit of his advance within her stretched her wide in an unbearably pleasant manner that had her blushing almost as fiercely as she had when he had first taken her into his mouth.
    All she could seem to do was to groan and mewl as he pressed himself within her, forcing her to accept his presence within her body, only this time she was startled to find that she wanted more rather than less of him. She wanted to clasp him to her rather than push him away, and when he lodged himself fully within her to the hilt, then pumped forward just slightly to assure himself of it, she emitted a long, low groan that she would have wished had come from anyone’s lips but her own for its raw, guttural tone.
    At one point, she even lost her head enough that she tried to sit up, tried to bring him down to her so that she could clasp her arms around him, but he pushed her back down with two sharp swats to her breasts.
    “No, Cassie. You are not in control here. I want to take you like this, so that I can watch you closely as I do so.”
    And he did. He drank in every movement she made, every frustrated cry she gave as he began to pump in and out of her, gently at first and then, by the end, quite forcefully, plunging himself again and again into that sweet heart of her, elated to no end to have her climax again, clenching herself around him even more tightly than she already – naturally – was, until her contractions drove him to lose his own pinnacle on the world, and he ground himself into her as he spent himself, figuratively and literally.
    Afterwards, he gathered her to him, disturbed to realize that she was sobbing again, inconsolably, as she had several times before. No threats of punishment nor even gentle coaxing would get her to confide in him just what it was that caused her such abject sorrow, and he was becoming resigned to merely holding her through it until she fell asleep, but it was not a solution he favored.
    Every time he took her; every time he imposed his sexual desires onto her and then refused to allow her own to be hidden safely away from him, but most especially every time he used pain to bring her the utmost in pleasure, all Cassie could think about was how she had become so much like her mother, and the thought made her impossibly sad, both because she didn’t want to be like this – like her – in that, and because, despite how they had parted, she missed her mother terribly.
    And she didn’t think she could expect a pirate to understand any of that, so she kept her secrets locked well away from him, still praying – vowing – that she would find some method of escaping him and all of the depravities he had visited upon her.
     
     
    His duties did take him out of the cabin regularly, which was important to her because she spent that time as close to happy as she could get in this situation, behind a locked door, reading very quickly through the good sized library of books she’d discovered in a built in bookcase that was cleverly hidden behind a wall tapestry.
    She became so engrossed in one of his books, curled up in the only comfortable chair in the room – the big overstuffed Captain sized one that fairly swallowed her up when she sat in it by herself and smelled disturbingly of his bay rum aftershave – that she didn’t hear the key in the lock nor his steps to her side until he cleared his throat loudly and she nearly threw the book at him in what she was sure was going to be a self defense maneuver.
    “Oh my word, you startled me,” she said upon realizing that it was him.
    Anjel reached down to