Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
The Pirate and the Whipping-Girl
For T, with thanks for the idea.
[THWACK!] “AAAH!” the little girl cried out, and “OOO-OOO-OOO!” again
and again as the cane left stripe after stripe on her bottom and the backs
of her thighs. After a few more strokes Mr. Johnson, the tutor, paused
with his cane in the air. He cast a quick look about him and cocked an
ear. There seemed to be no one about the nursery, the Governer-General’s
daughter, Lucinda, having retired with her attendant after her lesson,
fatigued as she so often was. At ten she was all ready a lovely and loving
little girl, but unfortunately of a fragile constitution, and easily
overexcited. She cared deeply for Hope, her little `whipping girl’. She
didn’t like to see her suffer for her, Lucinda’s, own mistakes. She also
knew that it would only make Hope more unhappy if she stayed.
Mr. Johnson was not a cruel man. It was unheard of in the early 1700′s
for children not to be caned regularly in an academic setting, and, absurd
as the practice may seem to modern minds, it was considered routine for
children of high status to have a substitute to be disciplined in their
stead. Mr. Johnson had only done what he was expected to do. Now he
proceeded to display a somewhat more…private side, being a compassionate
man, and yet one who found himself attracted to the idea of sexually
disciplining pretty young girls. And Hope was quite pretty. If she lacked
the ethereal beauty of her mistress, she had a sweet, pixie face, and a
slender body, with trim buttocks that now displayed the marks of her
whipping, glowing on her skin. Her shoulders shook with quiet sobs.
Johnson shifted the aim of his cane, now whipping Hope on the front of
her bare thighs, but much more gently than before, almost only a tap,
barely enough to leave a faint red line on her skin. Hope trembled, but
her sobs quieted some; she knew that this meant her `real’ discipline was
over. As he `caned’ her on her thighs, Johnson softly caressed her bottom,
soothing her. He moved the tip of the cane, bringing it to bear directly
on her unfledged cleftlips and prominent clitoris, bringing a fetching
flush to the surface, and bringing a catch to Hope’s breathing. After a
while the tutor tossed the cane aside and continued touching her, his hands
Soon he was gently rubbing her directly on her unfledged girlcleft,
tracing up and down her vulva, pressing her clitoris against her pubic
bone. Hope’s thighs parted almost of their own accord, her eyes
half-closed, her chest heaving, her breath in gasps. Soon she was crying
out a precious preteen girl’s orgasm, her little hips rocking, pressing her
underdeveloped quim hard against her punisher’s hand.
Once she was spent Johnson let the hem of her dress fall back down from
where it had been tucked into her waistband for her discipline, smoothed
the hair off her forehead, and asked, “Is that better, little one?”
“Yes, Sir, thank you Sir,” she replied shyly. She had come to expect
such treatment at his hands. It had begun almost as soon as Johnson had
assumed his duties. The previous tutor had caned her without
any…ameliorating activities. She greatly preferred Johnson’s method, and
almost found herself wishing that Lucinda would make more mistakes in her
Hope had been essentially bought from the almshouse by the
Governor-General to be his daughter’s companion and whipping girl. She was
an orphan, with no other family to care for her. Lucinda was a kindly
mistress, and Hope quickly became devoted to her. Lucinda would give her
gifts, and insisted that she be clothed not only decently but prettily as
well, and often ate with her. Hope would have been aghast at the idea of
Lucinda taking her own canings, as delicate as she was, and as much as Hope
loved her little mistress.
So their lives had gone for a few years. But a traumatic change was
about to occur. Despite Lucinda’s father’s high position as
Governor-General of *******, a major port in the Caribbean, he found
himself in financial difficulties. Through an unfortunate chain of events
he had become deeply indebted to Henri Granville, a wealthy and powerful
man, and a debauched and degenerate one, who lived across the Caribbean, in
********. Granville had never met Lucinda, but reports of her beauty had
been brought to him. He had all ready broadly hinted that he wanted her.
Now that he had power over her father, he had sent word: financial ruin,
unless Lucinda was sent to him to be his bride.
Her father was distraught. No matter what he did, Lucinda’s future was
bleak. Even if he did not comply with Granville’s demand, he and Lucinda
would lose everything. She would be taken from him, probably sold into
slavery to help pay his debts. Hope and her little mistress could not help
but become aware of the situation. Now Hope, as she had gladly taken her
beloved mistress’s punishments, once more gave herself to save Lucinda from
suffering. “If it please M’Lord,” she said, “Send me instead of Miss
Lucinda. Msr Granville will not know. You could keep Miss Lucinda hidden,
or send her back to England.” He could not refuse. With tearful gratitude,
he and Lucinda sent Hope off on a ship scheduled to stop where Granville
The young woman moaned, writhing to the extent she was able to, bound as
she was. The sting where the whip had touched her, on buttocks, thighs,
breasts, and cleft, was fading. She felt the sea spray kicked up by the
ship’s passage through the waves, mercifully warm in the Caribbean, and the
weather was hot and fine. Under other circumstances she would have
welcomed the sensation. But the ship continued to rape her. She was bound
and suspended at the prow, in a prone position, a pole extending from the
ship inserted deeply in her vagina. It was varnished, and thick. She was
for all intents and purposes a living figurehead. As the ship rose and
fell on the waves, it moved in and out of her again and again. She tried
to concentrate on what pleasure it gave her, both to reduce her suffering
thereby, and to try to stimulate her natural lubrication.
She was somewhat stoic, even resigned, to her fate. In a sense she felt
that she deserved it. She had been raised in a decent family, but had
fallen into bad company. She had become pregnant, had fled to a distant
town, and had left her child with the church. Then she had become the
`companion’ of an elderly and wealthy man, essentially his bedwarmer.
Indeed he was quite old, and feeble; she mostly served as his nurse. He
had taken it into his head to go on a sea voyage. His family did little to
stop him; whether he died at sea or on land they stood to inherit either
The pirates had caught them shortly after they reached the Caribbean.
They had plundered the ship and the passengers, but did little else, and
let the ship continue on. One of them, the quartermaster, had questioned
her, to see if she was the old man’s wife. He had seemed almost
disappointed to learn she was not. He had turned aside, and the others had
taken her with them.
Once on board the pirate ship, the Avenger, the crew seemed at once both
cruel and curiously restrained. She perceived that there was some conflict
amongst them: some, including the captain, would probably have used her
without scruple in any way they wanted to, but they seemed to be wary, and
even fearful, of certain of their number. These others, in turn, seemed at
once both resolute and unsure, as if they knew what they should do, but
were missing their leader, the quartermaster. He was no where to be seen.
The captain had all ready fell into his bunk, drunk for the day.
They bound her, and stripped her, fondling her charms as they did so.
She moaned and writhed to be so exposed to them. They roped her to the
mast and whipped her for their amusement. The bosun went for his tools.
He came back with the cat, and a rattan cane. But one of the crew stepped
up to him and spoke fiercely in his ear. “Use those and I’ll make sure
Jefferson finds out. He’ll cut you to ribbons with your own cat, now,
The bosun sneered, but acquiesced, using a softer leather whip, which
left red marks, but seldom as much as a welt or bruise. Still it stung,
and she cried out and shook as the whipped seized her buttocks, thighs,
breasts, and even her cleft. Then they had taken her forward, laughing
about having a proper figurehead for the Avenger, their vessel. “And once
the ship has opened her up, we’ll pass her around,” they had gloated.
She had actually dozed in her bonds, remembering what had happened to
her. Now she came to with a start: she felt something slippery, even
soothing, between her legs. Someone was pouring oil on the shaft that
violated her, greatly relieving her, making the sensation now almost more
pleasurable than painful.
She turned her head as far as she could to see. The quartermaster stood
beside her on the plank that extended out from the prow. He had a pannikin
in his hands. A drop of oil gleamed at the spout. “Woman,” he said, “I’m
sorry for your fate, and for the suffering you have endured. I will do
what I can to help you. I am Jefferson, the quartermaster. I have some
power on this vessel, but the crew is balanced as if on the blade of a
knife: a false move could destroy all, and doom you to even worse.”
Even as he spoke she heard a commotion. The captain and some others of
the crew poked their heads out of the opening at the bow. “Now, now,
Jefferson, you can’t have all the fun, eh?” the captain jeered. Coarse
laughter burst from his followers. “It’s time to have a bit more fun with
her. Bosun!” he called, and the man stepped forth, whip in hand. “Surely
you have no objection? Phillip’s articles have nought to say about the
likes of her!”
Jefferson looked hard at him, but said nothing, fearing that, should he
make further objection, the captain’s followers would take action against
him, leaving him in no position to help her. The bosun whipped the moaning
woman in her bonds, buttocks, thighs, breasts, even full upon her womanhood
as she shrieked and writhed, driving the ship’s pole that raped her even
more deeply within her.
Once their cruelty was satisfied for the moment, the captain said, “Now
let’s loose her. Who’ll have her first?”
Jefferson stepped forward, thinking rapidly. One of his men, Jones, he
had noted to be of a romantic disposition, and had no woman, having lost
his wife some years before, just as he himself had. “Jones,” he said,
“Jones will have her first. I give up my own share in her to him. Any
objections?” The quartermaster looked hard about him, his men now gathered
round. The captain shrugged. He assumed he would get his chance at her
soon enough, and his followers likewise.
The woman was untied, moaning as they pulled her off the pole, vainly
trying to cover her nakedness with her hands, a rope left loosely around
her neck, the end of it placed in Jones’ hands. But he took her gently by
the elbow and led her tenderly to Jefferson’s cabin at the latter’s
direction. As they passed below decks, the quartermaster whispered into
her ear, “Woman, Jones is a good and kindly man, who has lost his wife. Be
his woman now, and I trow it will go well for you and him both, and we may
save you yet from the rest of this scum.”
Jefferson directed his men to make some preparations, then casually
lingered outside his cabin, making sure none other of the crew loitered
about. After a while, he heard soft cries of passion…
Soon the cabin door was eased open and Jones looked out. The woman also
looked around his shoulder.
“It’s less than a league, mayhap not even half, to Isle de Tortuga,”
Jefferson said. “Woman, can you swim?” She nodded, speechless, hardly
daring to hope.
He handed Jones and the woman a bag. “This is sealskin. It should hold
the water out for some time. There are clothes, and some money, inside,
and it will float.” It was the work of a few moments lower them both down
the side. It was a moonlit night, and they could see the shore. They
struck out as the ship sailed away, trailing phosphorescence…
Afterwards there were recriminations, accusations of collusion.
Jefferson pretended ignorance. To quiet the discontent he offered
compensation from his own share of any treasure, and parceled out Jones’
holdings to the rest of the crew.
Hope had never been on a ship before, only on a small boat occasionally.
She loved the feel of the waves under the vessel, the smell of the open
ocean, the dolphins that leapt and frolicked alongside. The crew even
spotted a whale and pointed it out for her. She tried to keep her mind off
the fate that awaited her…
The pirates caught them early of a morning. She was still in her bunk,
awakening when one of them burst into her cabin. After that events were a
blur, a merciful numbness and haze settling over her brain, her mind nearly
shut down with shock and fear.
She remembered being on the deck of the pirate ship, the Avenger. Some
of the pirates were loudly exulting. “Strip her!” some shouted. “And whip
her,” said others. “Our new figurehead!” they laughed. They pulled her
clothes off her, and she blushed and shivered, a pretty little preteen
girl, naked in front of grown men who leered at her, some of them grabbing
their crotches. She was heartbreakingly slender, with nipples atop
breastbuds that barely broke the plane of her chest. Her hips were only
just beginning to think about flaring. Her slim thighs framed her puffy,
unfledged girlcleft, clitoris protruding prominently.
They bound her to the mast, her nipples and cleft pressed firmly against
it. The bosun raised the cane…
A hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. The quartermaster held him in a
grip of steel, the men loyal to him gathered round him.
There was shouting, and threats. Knives and belaying pins were
brandished. The captain and the quartermaster stood nose to nose. “I told
you when I joined, I sail under Phillip’s Articles. You will not deal so
cruelly with this child, do you hear me? The bosun’s cane is too harsh, as
is the cat, and the ship’s pole will tear her apart. I’ll not have it!”
The captain reflected. In truth he was more dissolute than cruel. A
part of him, too, drew back somewhat at the thought of the thick pole at
the prow of the ship ripping into the little girl. “Very well. Bosun,” he
“Aye, Sir,” he replied.
“Find the softest piece of leather you have, and use it…gently, mind
you. Let’s not injure the quartermaster’s tender sensibilities. Leave no
mark more than a bit of redness. And you, quartermaster, you have my leave
to replace the pole with one that is more slender, more like, shall we say,
a cabin boy’s erect member.” The crew laughed coarsely. “And we’ll not
take the girl’s maidenhead; we’ll mount her in her stern; I misdoubt me
that larger things have come out that end than we’ll be putting in! Will
that satisfy you?”
The crew looked on, muttering. Jefferson quickly gauged the situation.
It seemed the best he could do…
“Very well, Captain,” he replied shortly, and stalked off to manage the
switch of the pole. As he walked away he heard the SNAP! of the whip and
the little girl’s soft cry.
The bosun plied the softer strap on Hope’s buttocks and thighs,
WHAP-WHAP-WHAP! “AAAH! AAAH! AAAH!” the little girl cried out. Once he
had reddened her bottom sufficiently she was loosed, and rebound facing
outwards, blushing again as her charms were so radically displayed to the
leering men. The bosun front-whipped her, nipples, breastbuds, thighs, and
full upon her mons, cleftlips, and clitoris, SMAK-SMAK-SMAK! “OOOO! OOOO!
OOOO!” Hope nearly wailed, all though in truth, the whipping caused more of
a sting than a pain; the tutor’s cane had certainly hurt worse. Somehow
the feel of the bosun’s whip on her little cleft reminded her of the tutor
tapping her cleft with the cane, then touching her there…
Her mind had drifted despite her surroundings, in a haze and a blur from
the extreme stress. She `came to’ to find herself being carried forward,
below decks, and then out a small opening. The quartermaster stood there.
The man carrying her stopped short. “I’ll take it from here,” Jefferson
growled. The man’s objection died in his throat at the look on his
Jefferson gathered the girl in his arms, carrying her in the crook of
his elbow, like a father with his daughter. He whispered urgently in her
ear, “I’m sorry, lassie. I’ll do my best to make this easy on you. Try to
relax; it will help if you do. And I will get you free of this as soon as
I can.” He lifted her up and one of his men helped him sling her in the
rigging, then slid her astern, guiding the newly-fashioned rod, smoothly
varnished and well-lubricated, towards her clenching anus. He worked her
backwards onto it as she whined and yelped, until it was firmly seated
within her, her sphincter tightening spasmodically around it.
Jefferson stayed with her. He gave her sips of water at times. When
she felt up to it, he talked with her, finding out her name and
circumstances. After a while some of the crew came forward with the
captain. “Time for some more fun,” the captain demanded. “You can’t have
Again Jefferson coldly calculated. He judged it best for the girl to
stand aside for the moment, but he watched them closely. They swung the
soft whip again and again on the little girl’s thighs, and nipples, and
full upon her cleftlips and clitoris. Hope moaned and writhed and cried
out at the sting and the embarrassment, yet Jefferson couldn’t help but
notice a certain rhythm to the motion of her hips, and he found his mind
“Oh, Sir, please, please, do I haveta be whipped?!” the young girl
pleaded with him. But he was resolute.
“You have been a very naughty girl, and you must be punished,” he
intoned. “Young girls must be naked for punishment. Remove your clothes,
young lady, right now!”
His `little girl’ glumly complied, removing her dress, her petticoats,
and her underthings. Now she stood naked before him. She was slender,
lithe, pretty. Her breasts were small, well-formed, high, and topped by
nipples erect with anxiety and anticipation. Her bottom was smooth and
round, her thighs slender and gleaming. Her cleft was nearly bare, as she
was only fourteen.
Her parents had arranged for her to be married to him. He was a
merchant ship’s officer, valued by his captain and the ship’s owner,
considered to be a `rising star’ in the seaside community where they lived,
in Scotland. He knew her family, he saw them at Kirk, he knew her father
to be upstanding. His family had all passed away. He had no objections
when her father had approached him on the matter.
Once they were married he found her to be sweet, clever, and mostly
hard-working. But she was very young, and still mischievous and careless
at times. It was commonplace for all children to be whipped if their
behavior was unsatisfactory in any way, and nearly as common for wives to
be treated such as well. It seemed only natural to Jefferson to discipline
his young bride frequently, and she accepted it as a matter of course.
What Jefferson had not expected was how…stimulating both he and his
child-like wife would find the experience to be. He had no desire to be
cruel to her, and indeed when he plied the tawse on her bottom he probably
used less force than her father had when she was younger, leaving only a
faint redness that slowly faded. Perhaps it was because her whippings were
not really painful, perhaps it was because Jefferson would caress and
soothe her tender buttocks afterwards; at any rate she would nearly melt
into his arms after a discipline session, seeming almost frantically eager
to be taken. He in turn found that his growing passion for her sweet body
was tied inextricably to a desire to sexually discipline her. He began to
look for excuses to whip her, and found he didn’t need to look; she was
seemingly purposefully acting out minor impertinences, apparently as eager
to be punished as he was to punish her.
He started to vary her whippings, now on the backs, now on the fronts of
her thighs. There came a day when he ordered her to strip completely for
her punishment. She dithered, still embarrassed to be nude in front of
him. He swung the tawse against her bottom, saying, “Right now, young
lady!” She scurried to obey. After he had gently whipped her buttocks, and
her thighs, front and back, he paused to caress and soothe her as she
leaned against him, eyes closed, face buried against him as a tear or two
stained his shirt. He moved his caresses up from her buttocks and thighs
and seized her breasts as she gasped. He kneaded and worked them, pinching
and twisting her nipples as she moaned. Then, almost as much to his own
surprise as to hers, he swung the tawse across her breasts again and again,
of course not hard, but enough to make them jiggle and bounce, and for a
fetching red flush to appear as she yelped and whined.
“Spread your legs,” he commanded, and had to repeat himself with a
stroke of the tawse across the front of her thighs to induce her to obey.
Now her lightly-fledged teenaged cleft was fully bared to him, and he swung
the tawse across her mons, then up between her legs to strike full against
her vulva again and again. She cried out wildly, yet made no attempt to
close her legs or avoid the tawse, as he continued to ply it so gently that
she felt more of a sting than a pain. After a few strokes her slim hips
were rocking and her cries became more and more impassioned. He tossed the
tawse aside, swung her into his arms, tossed her on the bed, and undid his
breeches. His rod sprang out, rampant. He thrust unceremoniously into
her, driving for her cervix, pinning her to the bed with each stroke. She
came in half a minute or less, sobbing, nearly shrieking with passion,
embarrassment, and pleasure. Then he emptied himself within her with a
So their days (and nights!) together had been. But it was not to last.
She was taken from him, dying in childbirth along with their babe, so
common in that time of `childbed fever’, no knowledge of antisepsis or
sterile procedures. He was despondent. Although his friends and brethren
at Kirk tried to help and comfort him, he turned to defiance, and drink.
On a drunken whim he gave up his respectable post on the merchant ship
and joined with a privateer. In his despair he was reckless, and
ferocious, though mercifully he never was involved in wanton murder.
Through a series of events he found himself signing on the Avenger. By
then his despair had quieted down to a dull depression. He still drank at
times, but often he simply drifted in his thoughts.
When he signed on the pirate ship, he made it clear he would only sail
under Phillips’ Articles: he would murder no one, rape no respectable
woman. A handful of seamen who had sailed with him on the privateer
followed him on board; `his crew’, as he thought of them. They were loyal
to him, and with their help he was able to prevent the worst of the
excesses of the other pirates. He signed on as the quartermaster, nearly
equal in power to the captain. The tension between them had only grown
But while he may have been a lapsed Scottish Calvinist, a Scottish
Calvinist he was still, and the knowledge buried within him of his duty was
beginning to reassert itself. He recognized a deep desire to protect Hope
from abuse as much as he could. But he found the sight of the other crew
members whipping her so lasciviously to be deeply affecting, especially
when she seemed to be…stimulated by the discipline.
As soon as he felt he could, he gruffly barked, “That’s enough! Leave
her be for now, she’s only a child.” He glared at the captain, crossing
swords with their eyes. But deep down the captain was afraid of Jefferson,
knowing him to be stronger, and better with a cutlass. So he subsided and
led the other crew members away, muttering.
Jefferson brushed the hair back from Hope’s forehead, rubbing her
shoulder, whispering soothing words to him. She whimpered, but pressed her
cheek against his hand in gratitude. He continued to gently caress her,
rubbing softly over her punished areas, thighs, buttocks, her little
nipples, then finally at her cleft. His hands seemed to move of their own
accord, he watching himself in fascination, feeling her puffy cleftlips and
clitoris in his hands, seeing her hips rock farther, hearing her little
cries become more and more impassioned, until finally she was coming in his
hands, the bucking of her pelvis impaling her anus farther and farther on
the pole that violated her.
The experience seemed to crystallize his determination, bringing him
immediately to a point of decision. Even as she sobbed out the last of her
punishment-orgasm, he whispered quick words of comfort to her, then left
and went quietly around the ship, gathering his men. Providentially, and
unwisely, the captain and his ruffians were drunk, as they often were. It
was so easy to disarm and immobilize them that he wondered why he hadn’t
done it before; perhaps he had just lacked sufficient motivation.
He returned to Hope, tenderly handling her, loosening her bonds. He
took her little naked body in his arms and slid her off the pole. She
moaned as it was pulled out of her, her anus gaping, slowly closing as her
sphincter clenched spasmodically. He carried her to his cabin where he
left her to collect and clothe herself.
As soon as he could he marooned the captain and the other crew members,
leaving them on an island that was only a short swim off Tortuga when the
tide was out. He gathered his small crew together, barely sufficient to
work the ship. “Men, we must decide what we are to do. As for me, I’m
done with pirating. If you will be led by me, we will seek honest cargo,
and someday maybe even make our way back to Scotland.” They all agreed.
Hope he installed in the captain’s cabin, in as much comfort as he
could. She quickly became the darling of the crew, made over, given little
trinkets, scrimshaw carved for her in the likeness of dolphins, seahorses,
and whales. Jefferson, now Captain Jefferson, spent much time with her,
she guilelessly sharing all the details of her short life with him,
including what she had been, where she was going, even how she had reacted
when the tutor had `disciplined’ her.
Jefferson was conflicted. A part of him lusted after Hope’s sweet
little body, longing to treat her as he had treated his young wife. A part
of him considered himself to be honor-bound to deliver her to her
destination. And a part of him was flat-out in love with her, desiring
nothing but her welfare and happiness.
He set course for ********, a week’s sail with good wind. There he
presented Hope to the Granville residence as Lucinda, assuming the role of
a merchant captain tasked by the Governor-General to transport his
daughter. He received in turn from Granville’s secretary the notes
necessary to relieve Lucinda’s father of all debt. Then he left her, not
without regret. She stared after him as he stalked out the door.
Captain Jefferson went off to take up the duties of a merchant captain:
augment his crew, locate cargo and a destination, take on provisions. He
changed the name of the Avenger: she was now the Hope.
Meanwhile his ship’s namesake was put in the care of a nursemaid of
sorts, a halfbreed native woman hastily brought into the household to care
for her. On Granville’s orders she was bathed, and clothed, and perfumed.
Two days after she came to the household she was presented to him.
She hadn’t really known what to expect, her child’s mind picturing an
older man, but she naively assumed he would be at least not unattractive.
She was shocked and dismayed to find a wrinkled, lean, leering man, coarse
in his speech and habits, although not without a certain almost seductive
vitality. He made a pretense of formality and decorum, calling her
`M’lady’, bowing to her. Despite half-formed entreaties from Hope for her
to stay in the room, her nursemaid was sent from his chambers, leaving her
alone with Granville.
He toyed with her, pacing around her, caressing her hair and cheeks as
she flinched. “Now, little missy, I have you. I’m pleased to find that
the reports of your beauty were nothing but the truth.
“You will find that I have only one requirement: that is complete
obedience. If you are disobedient you will be disciplined. At times you
will be disciplined for no other reason than my pleasure. And we will
begin now,” he said.
Despite her shrieks and struggles he bent her under his arm, tossed her
skirt over her head, pulled her underclothes down, and rained spank after
open-handed spank onto her quivering bottom, SMAK-SMAK-SMAK! “OH-OH-OH!”
she cried out, nearly dancing in place as her buttocks were reddened. He
shifted his aim, forcing her thighs apart with a foot, spanking her full
upon her anus and the nether edge of her cleft as she wailed. He stopped,
but continued to abuse her, kneading and working, squeezing her buttocks,
running his fingers over her vulva and clitoris, as her body betrayed her,
her hips rocking at his touch, even though she was desperate to flee from
him. With a last contemptuous SMACK! to her bottom he released her,
allowing her to scurry from his presence. She fled to her room, the
nurse-maid, Hannah, gathering her in her arms as she sobbed.
In the next few days he required her presence frequently. He abused her
each time, spanking her, molesting her. Soon he began to strip her
completely, she deeply embarrassed to be so exposed in front of him. He
greedily drank in the sight of her, a slender, sweetly pretty preteen with
only buds for breasts, and unfledged cleft with prominent clitoris. He
bound her in various positions, over a chair, splayed upon a divan,
standing between posts. He used the riding crop, a cane, the tawse,
sharply disciplining her, bringing a fetching flush to her buttocks, her
thighs, her nipples and breastbuds, even to her cleftlips and clitoris as
she moaned and writhed. He whipped her sternly, but not hard enough to
break the skin; he wanted her undamaged until their wedding.
Which was approaching apace; he awaited only the return of the bishop,
and the finishing of the gown for which Hope was fitted.
But he had made a crucial error: in his haste to procure a caretaker for
the little girl, he had not bothered to ensure the nursemaid’s allegiance
to him, rather than to her charge, either through coercion or inducements
of some other kind. And Hannah was incensed, outraged at the treatment the
little girl was receiving. In the evenings she rocked her to sleep,
comforting her, crooning to her, and frantically considered what she could
do to help her.
She was not without resources, with many friends and family on the
island. Having heard from Hope the story of her capture and rescue,
through her network she sought for Captain Jefferson. Word was brought to
him about her situation. He gathered his men and quickly but carefully
approached Granville’s estate.
With Hannah’s assistance he infiltrated the grounds, and gained entrance
through the servants’ quarters. Many of the other servants and slaves were
Hannah’s relatives or confidantes, and they quickly shepherded him to
A soon as she saw him she cried out in joy and flew into his arms. He
picked her up and hugged her, swinging her around, rocking her back and
“If I can manage it, would ye come away with me, lassie?” he whispered
in her ear. She nearly frantically nodded, a few tears leaking out,
staining his shirt as she nestled into him.
“What is all this?” an irate voice demanded. Jefferson spun, putting
Hope behind him. Granville stood in the doorway, having been alerted by a
craven servant not firmly enough under Hannah’s sway.
Jefferson strode forward, drawing his cutlass. Granville paled, but he
was not without ability as a fencer, carrying a deadly rapier which he drew
in turn. The clash was bitter, but brief, and Granville fell dead from a
cutlass slash to the neck.
Jefferson quickly bundled Hope and her few belongings up. He exchanged
looks with Hannah, and they both took it as a matter of course that she
would accompany them to help care for Hope.
Hannah made sure that word was spread that Granville had been killed by
a robber. A half-hearted search was made by the Guard; in fact few were
sorry that he was gone.
Jefferson took Hope back to his lodgings. He gave her a few days to
settle in and recover. Hannah made her very comfortable, seeing to her
every want and need, dressing her prettily, arranging her hair in curls.
Jefferson’s love for her only grew. He found her to be a sweet,
intelligent, and loving child. Of an evening he drew her to his side and
took her up on his lap. She leaned against him with a contented sigh. He
chucked her under the chin and looked in her eyes. “Lassie, what will ye
that I do with ye? Should I find a family to adopt ye? I’m sure a dacent
household can be found. I will take ye on board and sail back to *******,
should ye desire it. With Granville gone, ye could take up place again in
the Governor-General’s household. Would ye be Lucinda’s whipping girl
again?” Hope looked down, and shook her head, then looked up at him through
her lashes, seeming both shy and wanton at the same time. “Then perhaps ye
would be my whipping girl. Will ye marry me, lassie?” He waited
breathlessly, but the conclusion was foregone. She flung her little arms
round his neck and nodded so much she thought she would get dizzy.
But he wanted to be sure. “Do ye know what that means, lassie?” he
She looked down, and whispered, “It…it means you’ll put
your…your…thing inside me, doesn’t it?”
Jefferson felt almost dizzy with joy and love. “Yes, lassie, that’s
what it means to be married. You should know that it may hurt at first.
But after a while…perhaps it won’t so much.”
She nodded solemnly. “I want to be yours,” she affirmed. Jefferson
hugged her to him, reveling in the knowledge that she was his.
He wasted no time, and they were quickly married. Their age difference
caused next to no comment, `age of consent’ considerations being almost
unknown at that time. A little girl’s only protection from exploitation
was her family, as it has been throughout nearly all of human history.
Hope had no family, and she and Jefferson clearly loved each other, so
neither the bishop nor anyone else had any objection to their marriage.
Back in their house, in his room, he took her tenderly in his arms.
Sweet hugs and kisses were given and received. He looked in her eyes, and
whispered, “Lassie, are ye sure?” She looked solemnly back and nodded.
“Then lassie, would ye mind if I gave you…just a little whipping, first?”
She looked surprised at first, but then gave him a small yet almost
mischievous smile in return.
He undressed her, peeling off layer after layer, until she stood in
nothing but her stocking feet, a nude preteen girl in front of a grown man,
shivering, blushing, trembling. He ran his hands up and down her lithe,
slender form, reveling in the feel of her smooth soft skin, caressing her
little nipples, kneading and working her breastbuds as she whimpered,
running his hands over her back, even giving her a backscratch as she
purred. Then down to her bottom, squeezing and massaging, pulling her
buttock cheeks apart so that she felt the cool air on her anus. Then
finally there, cupping and hefting her unfledged girlcleft, tracing his
fingers up and down the lips of her vulva, pulling and pinching her
clitoris as she gasped and moaned.
He sat down and pulled her over his lap, gently caressing her buttocks
as she clenched and trembled. He spanked her, somehow both gently and
sharply at the same time, SMACK-SMACK-SMACK! as she cried out, “OH-OH-OH!”
more from the embarrassment and the intensity of the moment than from any
pain, for she felt only a sting that faded into a soft burn, somehow
lighting a fire in her loins as he smacked first one cheek and then the
other, in a brisk, business-like fashion.
Once her bottom was fetchingly reddened he pulled her up into a hug,
rubbing and soothing her, rocking her and singing softly to her. “Are ye
all right, lassie?” he whispered in her ear. She nodded dreamily, her face
snuggled into his neck.
He gently laid her on her back on the bed. He slowly drew off his belt
as her eyes widened. He gathered her ankles in his left hand and held her
legs up over her head, her pudenda now bared, her cleft fully exposed, her
anus winking as she clenched and quivered. WAP-WAP-WAP! he swung the belt
again and again, smacking her directly on her anus, perineum, cleftlips,
and clitoris as she nearly wailed. Yet again, even as she sobbed, she
realized that he was not causing her much pain, certainly less than she had
endured as Lucinda’s whipping girl. But the sting and the burn penetrated
deep, and the fire built and built, spreading from her clitoris and deep
inside her vagina. Her little hips rocked and her cries became more and
Jefferson tossed the belt aside and leaned down, fastening his mouth
onto her cleft as she yelped in surprise, then froze in near shock at the
intense pleasure that flooded her as his tongue rasped over her cleftlips,
probed to her hymen, making her jerk, then seizing her clitoris in a long,
excruciating bite between tongue and teeth. She arched and nearly
screamed, peaking, orgasming, sobbing, almost fainting.
Even as she subsided from her climax, he released his rampant rod from
his breeches. He lay over her, his muscular grown man’s frame dwarfing her
preteen slenderness. He thrust into her firmly, decisively, raping her of
her maidenhead as she screamed, and writhed, and sobbed and sobbed. He
held her, caressed her, whispered of his love to her. Soon her distress
had quieted to the occasional sniff and shake of her shoulders. He
commenced to rape her in earnest, pistoning in and out of her, driving for
her cervix, burying his manhood as deep within her as her small size would
allow as she cried out with each thrust. Of course, given the intensity of
his desire for her, and the stimulation of having disciplined his beautiful
little girl to orgasm, it took only a minute or so for him to be groaning
out one of the best orgasms of his life, emptying his seed deep inside his
sweet preteen child-wife as she sobbed and shook. Then he collapsed next
to her, hugging and holding her, caressing and soothing her. Soon she had
quieted in his arms, only occasional shivering and sniffing, content,
chastened, safe, loved.
As the days, months, and contented years went by, he continued to
lovingly discipline her, spanking her bottom, whipping her on thighs,
buttocks, nipples and breastbuds, girlcleft, and even her anus, bringing
her to a deeply satisfying punishment-orgasm, then raping and violating her
fully. He took her with him on his voyages, his crew doting upon her.
Hope took on the role of his `cabin girl’, and Captain Jefferson avidly
enjoyed his little preteen child-wife’s services!
And they lived happily ever after.
All comments madly welcomed!