open. “Put it there.” She heard the curiously feminine voice of the captain and turned over from where she lay on the couch beside the window to see a pirate bring in a tray of food. Its aroma preceded it and Claire’s stomach rumbled. It smelled delicious, whatever it was. The pirate left almost immediately, bowing slightly to the captain who looked around and spotted Claire on the couch. Going to some of the lamps, she produced a sulfur match and lighted them one by one to bring light to the room. She walked over to Claire.
“What is your name?” she asked in her upper crust British accent, which amazed Claire.
“Claire Von Hagen, but my family and friends call me Claire,” she said quietly, wondering what would happen now.
“Well, Lady Von Hagen, your fiancé was most forthcoming with information,” the captain told her, but did not continue telling with what information. “Come. Eat. I am sure you want to know what I have in mind for you,” she offered, as her hand indicated the food on the table and her other hand was held out to help her rise from the settee. Claire appreciated the courtesy, but found it odd that a woman dressed as a man would offer it.
They sat down to a delicious stew of meat and vegetables, wholesome fare for a ship, with biscuits that were flaky and bug-free and apparently fairly fresh. Claire had not eaten this well since she had boarded her own ship and she ate heartily, the food wonderful and filling. The captain was amused as she watched her captive eat with gusto, but then she ate just as much. Claire noted the captain was fastidious, using a napkin on her lap, her pinky finger outstretched as she sipped at tea or wine, unconsciously feminine in her eating habits. Claire herself still had the blanket wrapped around her torn dress and felt outclassed at this table despite the captain being dressed in men’s clothing.
The captain allowed her to fill her belly before talking to her. “Now, we will not be getting anywhere near your father’s island to demand a ransom. This could take months, depending on your father,” she explained. “You have a choice though.”
Claire listened appreciatively at the civil tone of the captain. She was being treated with respect and courtesy and had nothing to prepare her for what the captain further told her.
“You can service my crew as the only female available to them, or you can service me for the duration of your stay.” She waited for this to sink in to her captive’s mind.
Claire’s eyes opened wide making her look like a doe as the meaning of the words penetrated her mind. The warm and delicious food had lulled her into a state where she had thought she would be safe and protected until her ransom was paid. The thought of men raping her over and over again certainly did not appeal. She had thought the captain, being a woman, she would be safe from any physical harm. She had no idea what two women did together; she could not begin to understand that part of the captain’s offer. “Service you?” she asked, hesitantly, as though to clarify the proposition.
The captain smiled. It made her striking face beautiful. Her red hair was tied back now, but it still flowed down her back and her darkly tanned features looked very attractive in the lamp light. “Aye, I am sure you do not know what that entails, but I assure you I enjoy both men and women’s bodies, and you will enjoy my attentions more than you will my crew’s,” she guaranteed her.
“I can take care of your apartment for you...?” she began, hoping against sinking hope that the woman did not mean what she was implying. She remembered the warning she had received from the pirate earlier, to do whatever the captain demanded.
The captain laughed. “Nay, I assure you, I do not mean that. I mean you will have sexual relations with me,” she said properly, in her upper crust tones. There was a hint of