Siren Ch. 02-03

"Tell me," he said again, his fingers slowly moving in and out of her, the lazy circled of his thumb threatening to remain away from the source of all that felt good.

"Kenna," she whispered, tears streaking her cheeks in shame as she gave in. But there was little time to contemplate her capitulation. His thumb returned and Kenna felt the little spot burst inside her. Pleasure rolled through her in warm luxurious waves that seemed to reach out to the tips of her limbs and the very roots of her hair. It poured through her, ecstasy and misery all at once.

His hands abandoned her and she turned her tear-bright eyes to his as his face hovered over hers. She was confused, wrecked by whatever he was doing. She felt the familiar sensation of his cock nudging at her opening, and even as her body still tingled from the pleasure she tensed at his invasion.

He locked his eyes on hers as he pushed against her warm opening. She looked back, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. He sank in further, watching carefully as the fear retreated when pain didn't come. She was wet and ready for him and it took a great deal of control not to groan as her tight cunt enveloped his invading cock. When he was seated inside her he pressed himself against her, rubbing her clit with his groin. The girl called out, her youth obvious now that she'd been stripped of her dower clothing, the sound of her arousal filling him up with dark satisfaction.

He moved slowly, watching her, following the rise and fall of her emotions as he took her. This was new to her, all of it. It filled him with a wicked sort of contentment knowing how easily he could manipulate her. Her bright green eyes were dark in the light of the lantern, her mouth open in a silent gasp as he surged against her, grinding into her flesh again. Her pussy squeezed him, fluttering around his thick rod. He picked up his pace.

Her back arched and her body moved helplessly underneath him as she reacted to his movements. Her legs hugged his waist and she raised herself up towards every thrust, though he was sure she was unaware of the movement. Her eyes were still wide in shock when he grabbed her hips, rutting her further, the slick feeling of her tight cunt driving him faster. Her eyes focused on his, full of distress but glazed with lust. He grinned down at her, relishing it as he chased his completion.

Kenna called out, his punishing pace against her tender flesh was too much. She was wracked in shivers and spasms. Her wrists hurt as she twisted against the ropes, her head felt heavy even as her mind floated free. It could not happen again, surely a person could not take this much. Her fingers tingled, her lips went numb and as he pushed himself deeper and harder inside her than she ever thought possible. This was not the coupling she had been taught to expect and certainly not what she had experienced with her husband. Her body convulsed, the pleasure hurt as it swept through her again. She called out as her body was overcome. He barely made a sound as he flexed inside her, his seed hot as it splashed against her womb. Her face felt strange and her eyes closed and rolled back. Her legs, which she had not realized she'd moved, fell from his waist. Her head was spinning, the lovely sensations being washed away by the emptiness growing inside her again.

She could not move when he got off of her, couldn't even stand to open her eyes. Her weakness ate at her and tears fell freely down her temples, wetting her hair. When he slipped the ropes from her hands she groaned, needles seem to press into the choked skin. His large hands covered her smaller ones, rubbing the ache away.

She did not sleep then, that would have been too much of a relief from the current condition. Instead she seemed to hover somewhere between the brutal present and the sweet escape of unconsciousness.

He shifted her body as he moved to lay down next to her. With the tiny strength that remained she turned and pressed her back to the wall. Better to face him in her nakedness then to expose more than she could bear.

Roland watched as the tears drifted down the bridge of her nose from beneath her heavy lashes. She curled up, pushing away from him and into the wall of the cabin. He waited till her breath steadied and the tears stopped before he got up, retrieving the shackles he had left in the room when he'd first brought her here. He slipped the hard iron around her ankle and attached the other end to the post of the bed. He locked them in place and placed the key on the ring at his belt. Tomorrow there was much to do, and she could not be trusted to stay put.

Chapter 3

Kenna did not awaken so much as drag herself from sleep. Her head felt strange, and her body weak. The slow arousal allowed her mind time to recall, with hideous precision, the events of the day before, though she lacked the energy to properly feel the horror of all that had taken place.

She slowly opened her eyes and took in the unfamiliar cabin. She was dismayed to find herself naked beneath the sheets and blankets. Her head swam and she raised her hand to her forehead, trying to squeeze the pulsating pain with her shaky fingers.

She cast a look around the room, licking her dried lips with her heavy tongue and finding no relief. He had not left water or food behind for her. She shifted in the bed and the sound of clinking metal brought her to a halt. It was as if someone had poured cold water down her back as she felt the scrape of something at her ankle. Haltingly, she pulled back the bedding to reveal her leg, smooth and white as ever, but encircled at its end with heavy iron.

Kenna scrambled back from it, her fear outweighing the obvious futility of running from something attached to her. She called out as the cold metal tore at her skin when she jerked her foot against the resistance. The chain was short, allowing her only a few feet of length from the bed. She stared at it, willing it away from her.

Why was this so much worse? Why would the clasp of metal send her into such a state when she had withstood much crueler with more grace then she showed now? Kenna stilled herself, shoving down the wellspring of despair that threatened to renew her tears. She had barely had a sip of water for more than a day now, and food for even longer. She could not afford to cry.

She sat up and pulled one of the sheets from the bed, wrapping it around her naked skin. She shivered from cold that didn't match the air around her, but something kept her from staying still. Her limbs felt heavy, though her head felt light, as if ill-attached to her shoulders. She shook her head only to groan as her sight spun. Her lack of sustenance had caught up with her. She slumped back onto the bed, curling up against the wall with the sheet hugged tightly around her. She sat there, trying to ignore the gnawing emptiness in her stomach, until she drifted off again.

Someone was shaking her but she found it difficult to penetrate the haze around her. She did not feel well and her throat was paper dry. She groaned slightly as whoever was troubling her sleep shook her harder but the sound was raspy and dry. Something brushed against her lips and she felt a sharp pain as the dry skin cracked and bled. She heard a muttered curse before someone pressed a cup to her lips, spilling the tepid tea into her mouth.

It took her a moment to respond but she grasped the cup from the hand before her and drank down what was offered.

"Slowly now, siren, you don't want to drink too fast." Kenna peeled her eyes open and looked up into the face of the pirate. He looked down at her from his great height, a small smirk on his lips that caused her stomach to flip in her gut. "You wouldn't want to risk drowning."

The joke irritated her, just as his easy presence did. How could he stand there and joke after what he'd done? But it was all part of his play. Kenna was not so simple that she couldn't see his aims. He was clever for a pirate, she'd give him that, but she was clever for a woman and she would not be so easily manipulated.

He regarded her as she sipped the tea, seeing for the first time the deep circles under her eyes and the pallor to her skin that was likely not her natural complexion. The tell-tale signs of an ailing passenger were all there. Suddenly he let loose a chuckle that startled the girl, her green eyes flashing as they fixed on him.

"I did not expect sirens to get sea sick," he said by way of an explanation. She looked angry at that but instead of speaking he saw the muscles in her cheeks ripple under her skin as she clenched her jaw. The captain had been right about one thing, she was almost unyieldingly quiet where anyone else would be full of cries or begging. It made Roland all the more content with breaking her stony silence.

He handed her a crust of bread, which she snatched even as she clung to the sheet to keep herself covered. Though the brief peeks of her creamy flesh beneath the greying blanket were enough to entice him.

Roland watched her eat, satisfied that she was truly attempting to fill her unsettled stomach. It seemed odd that someone would still be ailing this far into the journey, but women were delicate creatures, and her slight frame made him think she might be the type to suffer protracted discomfort, though his instincts told him otherwise. She stole uneasy glances at him as she ate the bread but he looked back at her with a blank face.

She met his eyes when the bread was done. "Why have you chained me?" she whispered. Her voice, while quiet, held a steely anger behind it. He saw in her gaze something beyond anger, something haunted in her bright green eyes.

"Because it was necessary," he said. Though normally he would not bother explaining himself, he found he wanted to hear her response.

"I am trapped on a boat, in the middle of the Atlantic, amongst a crew of pirates. Is the addition of an iron so necessary to keep track of one, weak woman?" She was trying to goad his pride but the hurt in her voice was clear and it came out sad instead of biting.

He moved closer, watching as she shrank back from him as far at the wall would allow. He sat on the edge of the bed and reached over to brush her tangled hair from her face. She flinched reflexively when his hand reached for her, a reaction he recognized but ignored. "Perhaps I just like knowing precisely where you are." She had no response to that and he stroked her cheek gently with his thumb, ignoring the fearful tremors that ran through her.

Roland was at once tempted to throw her on the bed and have his way with her again. The memory of her heat engulfing him was tantalizing and watching her eyes widen and her breath pick up at his proximity was pulling at his control. There was something so satisfying about breaking her silence, cracking her defenses, and feasting on the passions underneath. Her unwillingness was all the more tempting, a challenge that must be met with force.

But the crew were restless, and the journey was much more dangerous since attacking a British passenger ship. The Navy would be after them within the week and the ship was limping from the battle. Roland pulled himself away from the bed, promising himself he would have her again tonight. There was much work to be done.

He handed her a bundle containing one of his spare shirts, more bread and dry fish as well as an ash-wood comb. He saw the fleeting look of gratitude in her eyes before the fear and anger clouded it out.

"'Till tonight, siren," he said as he left, locking the door behind him.

*

It was hours before he returned, night had long since fallen and the day had slipped by in a flurry of activity both physical and political. The death of the captain had rattled everyone, almost as much as the man's insistence on going after a ship well within the Navy's protective purview. Now there was a magical siren aboard who had stuck the captain in the neck with cutlery and was threatening to drown them all unless Roland could convince her otherwise. That made them nervous and edgy even more than the first two things put together.

Roland would have put more energy into cursing the dead man's judgement if Kenna hadn't turned out to be such a lovely acquisition. The captain had spun this siren's tale into such a legend that it was impossible to leave the woman behind and still convince the crew that they weren't all damned to the depths. He'd tried to reason with the men, telling them there was no chance the woman who had collapsed on the deck was anything more than a frightened widow who got lucky. But the most vocal among them had made it clear the bad omens were piling up, and as the new captain, Roland had to do what he could to turn things around.

He pushed in the door to his new quarters and heard no answering movement from the room. He heard the softest sound of her sleep over the creak of the ship around them. He locked the door behind him. She didn't know that he was keeping her from the crew as much as ensuring that anyone whose curiosity outweighed their superstition would be brought up short trying to get a glimpse of her. The best way to deal with this was to keep her contained until they'd forgotten she was there. It meant holding meetings on deck or in the mess but it was a small price to pay for now.

He made his way towards the bed, finding the small lump of the girl pressed against the wall, as she had slept the night before. She wore his shirt, and had wrapped the blanket around her in a protective cocoon that would do her no good. A smile crept onto his lips at the thought. Her red hair spilled across the bed. She had spent a good deal of time combing it and it shone with all its splendor in the lantern's light.

He removed his clothing, watching her for signs of awakening. She remained a motionless mass. Slowly he crept onto the wide bed, enjoying the change in status the captain's death had brought him. The crew might have been pricklier about the change given that he had only come on as quartermaster recently, but the other matters weighed more heavily on their minds.

Roland reached out and pulled the blanket back so he could better see her face. In her sleep she looked much younger than when he'd first seen her, buttoned up tightly in a black dress, anger and fear flashing in her eyes. And yet then she hadn't spoken a word, hadn't called out once during the entire ordeal. It was gratifying to know that he'd broken her quiet, even more to see the wall behind her eyes crumble as he brought her to completion. The thought made his cock harden.

Slowly, so as not to wake her, Roland drew the blankets back. The girl sighed as he untucked the tightly wrapped cloth but settled again. The shirt he'd given her was much too large, falling over most of her thigh, but it meant the neck was equally low, dipping just to the top of her pale pink nipple. He slid his finger gently across her exposed neck, watching her face as she sighed in her sleep.

Smiling slightly, Roland continued, pushing the fabric aside and swirling his finger over the pink tip of her breast. The skin puckered beneath his touch and he rolled it slightly between his fingers. Kenna shifted again, still sleeping, but her breathing had changed somewhat. Unable to resist, he leaned over and ran his tongue along her nipple, laving the tiny bud gently.

Kenna shifted again, her body seeking out the light touch and pressing against him. He held back though, not wishing to wake her yet. He moved above her, his fingers still tracing their light touch over her pale skin. Her lips parted in a sigh as he stroked her inner thigh. He found he couldn't look away from her face despite the tempting body beneath his fingertips. He wanted to see every sigh, every flutter of her lashes, every furrow of her brow as he took her again. There was something dark and primal about his desire to claim her, to wreak havoc on her control and watch her open to him again. Roland smiled to himself, his beast uncurling in his chest.

He moved above her, watching as she became more awake, though her responses were still unrestrained. He ran his finger along the slippery flesh at the junction of her thighs, circling her clit without ever touching it. He continued the feather light teasing as his tongue circled her nipple in much the same way. Her brow creased and she moaned. He slipped a finger into her channel, finding it tight and wet and oh so tempting. His thumb pressed her clit and her eyelids fluttered, a soft moan escaping between her lips.

"Siren," he said softly. Her brow furrowed further but her eyes remained closed. "Kenna," he said a bit louder. He moved his hand from her breast and pressed it to the bed next to her head. The finger inside her began to move faster, his pressure on her tiny nub more direct. Her lashes fluttered and her sleep-soaked eyes came into view. Confusion, arousal, and finally shock ran over her features. She started, gasping and trying to draw away from his impaling digit. His hand on the mattress brought her retreat up short as her shoulder was caught against his forearm. Her small hands came to his chest, trying to push him off her even as she twisted away.

Roland smiled at her, watching her anger rise as he continued to toy with her. He withdrew his finger, allowing her a brief moment to relax before returning with two, burying them swiftly in her wetness. She groaned and arched her back, both retreating and encouraging.

"Stop," she gasped as he began to push her forward, his thumb teasing her towards release. "Stop, please!" she begged. One of her hands clutched his arm, trying to pull his hand away from her weeping cunt. The other hit his chest, uncoordinated and ineffective.

"No," he whispered back, watching her eyes as she tried to hold back the pleasure he was strumming up inside her.

"No, no, no, no," she started to whisper back, though he wasn't sure she was speaking to him anymore. Her legs began to quiver against his, her body tightening around his fingers, her hands stopped trying to pull him away. Roland moved his face closer to hers, drinking in the defeat of her body as her eyes shone in the low light. He pressed his invading fingers deeper, finding the spongy flesh there and teasing it. Kenna's eyes closed tightly, as if she might shut him out. Her mouth opened, her body taut as a bow string, and she called out as spasms wracked her body.

Roland dove forwards, locking his lips around hers to stifle the sound. He used her state to tease her into responding to his kiss. The feeling of her yielding to him, the brush of her tongue against his as her walls clasped his fingers tightly drew a groan from him. Kenna's body shook beneath him and he drew her peak on and on, relishing her whimpers as she tried to pull away from him.

Her mouth went stiff and unresponsive. He released her, wanting to watch her face again. Her hands were still at his chest. His eyes raked down her body, admiring how the rumpled shirt covered just enough of her to make him want more. She held her arms stiffly, trying to push him off but failing entirely. He shoved his knees wider, pushing her thighs lewdly apart.

Roland loved the spark of anger, the fear and trepidation in her face. He wanted it all, and to watch it melt into pleasure and submission over and over again. He caught her gaze and held it as he pressed his raging cock into her slick pussy. He groaned as the tight channel seemed to pull him in, her wet walls pressing against his hardness. Kenna's face flickered, her anger wavering as her eyes widened. He bottomed out, pressing his pubic bone into the stretched flesh above his invading rod, grinding himself against her. Her cunt clenched around him as he stimulated her, a despairing gasp escaped her normally stoic mouth.

Roland began moving slowly, watching carefully as she tried to hide the growing pleasure inside her. He used every trick he knew to keep from spending too early. He wanted this to last. She was so tight and hot and wet. Everything about her called out to him to take her, bend her to his will. Her body was meant to be feasted upon, every inch of her designed to stir his deepest desires.