The Voyage Pt. 01

"Take me with you."

He chuckles as her lower lip becomes more pronounced and he brushes away the urge to take it into his mouth... or between his teeth.

"Believe me, you don't want that. Besides, your father would have my head."

"He rather some other old man have me," she grumbles, her volatile hazel eyes turning darker, more intense, losing the wide, watery look of an imploring puppy.

"You watch that pretty little mouth. Your father and I have a long history, girl. I know he'll find you a good man who can provide for you, not someone... like me."

"But I need to get away from here." The longing and desperation are clear in her voice. She pushes back a stray curl, only to have the fiery strand of hair fall back and rest on her flushed cheek. His fingers twitch, wanting to tuck the tendril behind her ear for her. He wonders if she'd flinch as his rough, aged hand brushes against her smooth, pale skin.

"Go run along and behave while I'm gone. I've told you no and I've matters to attend to before I leave." He knows he hurt the delicate wisp of a girl but he also knows she's too proud to cry or beg. Instead she glares at him, daring him to continue patronizing her. This countenance and burning confidence surely intimidates boys her own age.

But he's long since left boyhood. Her stubborn stance and pursed lips radiate raw sexuality. He knows what she needs even if she is still too naive to know herself. Nearly an adult by age yet

still so much an eager child waiting to be corrupted.

---

"Ari?" She jolts when she hears the gruff voice, laced with disapproval, from across the room. He can read the curse on her lips as she tugs and straightens and buttons, attempting to look more like the proper lady she's meant to be. The handful of men around her scatter off and disappear amongst the shadows of the seedy basement lounge as the broad-shouldered gentleman crosses the room.

"Get up. Did any of those men touch you?"

"I heard you were killed," she tells him, staying firmly planted on her cushion, accusing him with her tone. "Boarded by pirates off the coast of Attina." He laughs heartily at the rumor.

"Is that what your admirers say to stop you inquiring about me? Now up."

"You can't just reappear after almost five years and start ordering me around like a child."

He watches her calmly, realizing that she indeed is no longer a child. Her temper is not the only thing that has developed. His gaze rests on her heaving chest for a fraction of a moment as anger and resentment bubble up inside her. A soft pink hue colors her fair skin and storms brew in her eyes.

"When your father finds out about this, someone is going to pay."

"Please don't tell him," she asks meekly, suddenly seeming so small when she drops her head and stares at her hands. A smile dances on his lips, amused as he observes this fickle creature.

"Perhaps we can work something out between us. Come. This is no place for a lady."

"None of them touched me," she informs him as he helps her to her feet. His tan, leathery hand grips hers gently and he admires her slim, long fingers, wondering how they'd feel around his cock.

"They know better," she adds, sounding disappointed.

"You should know better than to encourage them." Then he continues with a sigh, "Still looking for your ticket off Arista aren't you?"

"The sea will swallow up this stupid rock eventually. Then we can move to a proper island with people other than sailors and whores."

"Don't let your father hear you talking like that." She doesn't respond and neither says a word until they've ascended a couple levels to his room.

"You're not taking me up to see father?"

"Would you rather be reprimanded by him?" She quickly shakes her head. He'd try to lock her in her room until her wedding day.

"You don't have to lecture me. I promise I won't go down there again. Where have you been?"

Her sweet smile fades when she realizes she isn't going to get off so easily. "A lecture isn't quite what I had in mind. I want to ensure you've truly atoned."

"Then what did you have in mind?" she asks, trying to maintain a faltering smile and hold back the encroaching nerves. He pauses, proceeding cautiously. He has her. She'd give him anything right now.

"A spanking," he tells her with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. She laughs, assuming he's teasing.

"You haven't been gone that long. Have you forgotten I'm not a little girl anymore?"

"I don't jest, dear. Or would you rather go confess to your father?"

"But I... I'm... you can't..."

"Upstairs it is then. Let's go."

"No," she responds quickly, grabbing his arm. He feels a twitch in his pants. "... you can... spank me," she whispers.

Her father cannot find out where she goes every time she says she's visiting the library, or the shops, or the park. If he discovers how much time she spends sneaking into bars and lounges and quiet back rooms to flirt with sailors, he'll lock her up or give her a permanent chaperone.

A spanking can't be that bad. She received them as a young child. Plus, his room is cozy and comfortable - warm browns like an earthen cave and soft, overstuffed furniture. Her living corridors are stark and cold as the mountain they're carved into. She's in no hurry to return to the gray stone and harsh whites.

But most of all... she's with him.

"Good girl," he coos before sitting on the edge of his bed, "Across my lap."

"Is this really necessary?" she asks, backing away as he pats his muscular thighs. She's unsure the meaning of his smile.

"You know the options, Arianna. I won't ask again." Her legs shake as she hesitantly approaches him. He chuckles as she smoothes her dress before gently draping herself across his legs. Her feet shift nervously on the floor.

Only a soft gasp escapes her pouting lips when his hand lands squarely on her bum, padded by fabric. Her silence after the second spank and the gentle thud of his hand isn't enough to satisfy him.

He rubs the little upturned bum with one hand as the other reaches for the hem of her dress. Her arms spring back to prevent him from lifting it, a deep blush coloring her face at the thought of him exposing her panties.

He ensnares her wrists, pinning them to her back, hushing her reluctant mutters. She squirms on his lap as her simple white undergarments come into view.

"Stay still, my dear," which she does not. The whimper after the more vulnerable spank makes his cock stir.

"That's enough. I'm sorry. I won't do it again." More defiant squirming follows her protest, nearly sliding herself off his lap.

As a warning, he plants a firmer smack. "I'll decide when it's enough. Just be a good girl and stay still." She moans after the fifth spank, but stops trying to escape. It only takes a couple more before she slumps into his lap, defeated.

He rubs away the sting, so tempted to slide his hand between her legs. He won't though... yet. He'll wait and see how she reacts to the spanking. Maybe she'll avoid him, but he knows she won't.

"Alright. You're finished." She subtly brushes her eye before straightening up and tugging her dress back down. She stares at him, eyes mutinous and near tears. It's her pride that's wounded

though, not her rump. He took it easy on her and she's a tough girl.

"Happy now?"

"Am I going to catch you down there again?"

"You're certainly not going to catch me."

"If you go back down there, I will find out, and next time you'll be over my knee with those pretty little panties around your ankles."

Ari's face turns a deep shade of red as her mouth opens and closes without finding words. When he winks at her, she turns and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

He lays back on his bed, boots still touching the floor. A satisfied grin spreads across his face. Her defiance was more arousing than any dirty words whispered into his ear. Her pride was sexier than the docility of the other women he's known. And when she finally gave up and sank into his lap...

His cock stirs at the memory. He'll need to find a young pretty plaything tonight and pound her while he thinks of innocent little Ari and her bashfulness when he pulled up her dress - the way she squirmed and protested. He reminds himself that he's been gone almost five years and his little Ari has grown up though.

He wonders how old the girls are that roam the dark corners of town and eagerly crawl into the beds of old men like him. Soldiers. Sailors. Men with rough, callused hands from coarse rope. Men with leathery sun-kissed skin from toiling away on cloudless seas. Men who've seen death and have blood stains that will never wash away.

And what about the barmaids and the girls who spend their time in seedy basement lounges? The teases. Like his Arianna. Flirty, fickle little creatures that have never seen a naked man. Girls who make you feel special and wanted, only to flit away when you get too close.

He knows she hasn't learnt her lesson. That makes his pants uncomfortably tight. The little tease isn't as innocent as she wants him to think. She may not know exactly what she wants but she knows she can use her body to get it. The gangly tomboy has been replaced with a graceful, beautiful, manipulative young woman but the thirst for adventure hasn't dwindled. Likely it's grown. Like his growing need.

He wants her desperately and best of all, she wants him.

Arianna's eyes grow wide when she sees him in her home smoking a cigar with her father the following afternoon. The difference between the two men is striking despite them being nearly the same age. Her father is a perfect example of the slow aging of a pampered and wealthy life.

Unscared, unburt skin nearly as delicate as her own. Dark, thick hair, not one of which has lost its color. The posture of a man who's never known a real ache or pain. Expensive clothes of rare fabrics and dyes.

"You remember Captain Sullivan, Ari?"

And then there's the Captain with his scruffy beard, speckled gray. It's trimmed though now and his wild hair somewhat tamed. His sun-dried skin and his clothes appear to have permanent layers of dirt on them from toiling in the sun. But the most handsome mark of his age are the creases extending from his bright blue smiling eyes. Her father's brow will furrow first from his stern faces but laugh lines mark that of Captain Sullivan's.

"Yes, sir," she tells him with a curtsy.

"Please, not so formal, mate. You know your beautiful daughter can call me Nolan." When he directs his attention to her, she wants to melt into the floor. Those twinkling eyes have seen too much. His hand on hers sends tingles up her arm and his lips feel like an electric shock.

"Nice to see you again, Nolan," she says coolly, preceding her exit with another quick curtsy. When she escapes the stifling room into the hallway, she presses her back against the cold stone wall. Opposite her lies large windows overlooking the sea. The sun on her face calms her and she wishes she could open the windows to feel the breeze and taste the salt in the air. The cigar smoke has made her dizzy.

Or maybe it's him.

She can't explain, can't rationalize what she's feeling. For so long she's tried to make him see her as older, as an adult, but all she got was a child's punishment. And now he's here, calm and relaxed in front of her father.

She roams the long halls until dinner, hoping he'll leave before then. Of course when she enters the dining room, he's planted in the middle of the long table and he has her parents laughing at either end. His storytelling doesn't falter as he watches her take her seat. She doesn't make eye contact as she gingerly lowers herself onto her chair, but he sees a slight wince. When she finally looks up, he smiles knowingly, making her squirm.

Dinner passes mercifully quickly, despite the ridiculous number of courses. Ari eats a few bites from each plate and shifts the food around with her fork for appearances. She can hardly focus on his stories, which she used to love so much. Her eyes focus on her meal instead, but she can feel his eyes on her.

His voice is so strong, yet so soft - booming off the walls of the large, nearly-empty dining room, but so gentle on her ears. His tone is soothing, melodic. Thinking about how much she enjoys it makes her face feel warm and her insides flutter.

Pirates. Stormy seas. Monsters. Women with painted-on clothing.

Her ears perk up at the last, but her father chides him for the inappropriate topic. An unrecognizable emotion prods her stomach. Disgust? Annoyance?... Jealousy?

He watches her intently, knowing his comment had the desired reaction. Her brow contracts. Her lower lip pushes out ever so slightly. She pokes at a vegetable a little too aggressively. When she glances up to see his amused grin, there is anger in her eyes. The pouting child, the stubborn girl, and the jealous woman battle in her expression.

He wants to cuddle her and whisper soothing words while he strokes her hair. He wants to pin her down and show her what stubborn impatience feels like as he uses her roughly only for his own pleasure. He wants to ignore her, push her, breed the passion and the jealousy until the sensuous woman comes to him. He wants the child, the girl, the woman. He wants Arianna in every way possible.

Every fantasy of her is more arousing than the last and her unpredictability is sure to make every experience new for both of them. She's like no female he's ever encountered. And so young. But she desires him, not just his pocketbook.

She has no idea what she's getting herself into and suddenly his mind is consumed with an image of her writhing beneath him as he transforms that innocent girl into a woman.

---

He's going to leave bruises on her hips.

The bed slams against the wall over and over. Hard staccato thrusts. She whimpers but he knows she won't ask him to stop. The little minx was desperately grinding up against him moments before, purring "please sir."

His grunts become more urgent as she starts to tremble on her knees beneath him. Her back arches and she buries her face in the bed. She grips the sheets harder as his fingers dig into her flesh.

Yes, there will be bruises.

He wraps his hand in her dark hair. It looks jet black in this light and the long straightness of it reminds him of that of a horse's tail. Amused at the similarity, he chuckles as he gives his little pony a sharp smack to the rump. A tug makes her rear up so he can hear her moan.

With one hand wound tightly in her hair and the other wrapped snugly against her breasts, he holds her against him as he fills her. Gently he lays her down on the bed, rolls her over, and kneels between her legs. She's so light, suddenly seeming so delicate. He briefly wonders how old she is. Not likely much older than his Ari. They both have the long gangly limbs attached to bodies that haven't fully developed womanly curves. But unlike Ari, this little one has experience, be that good or bad. She smiles up at him with a sultry insatiableness in her bright green eyes.

"Ask nicely, kitten," he tells her but a knock on the door prevents her from answering. He pulls on his trousers as he crosses the room.

"You should be in bed. Run along."

Arianna chokes on her words as his eyes narrow. His stern, gruff tone frightens her and everything she planned to say vanishes from her mind. All she can focus on is the shirtless man before her. She has a sudden urge to trail her fingers through his chest hair. Dark and curly with dashes of gray.

When he attempts to shut the door, she's snapped back from her distraction. "No" is all she manages to say as she puts her hand on the door.

"What are you doing here, Ari?" he asks, his voice softening.

"I just... I wanted... I have to talk to you."

"Tomorrow. Now go to bed before you get into trouble."

"But I..." She hears a sneeze - a female sneeze, and a young-sounding one at that - from inside his room and furrows her brow. Her mouth opens and closes wordlessly before forming a pout.

"Now Arianna." Tears sting her eyes and threaten to spill in front of him but she holds them in until she's safely back to her room.

She'll show him.

She wipes her eyes and scolds herself for crying. A deep breath and she's finished. Sleep comes easily, determined to get what she wants soon. She always has, always does. She won't be ignored,

won't be brushed aside.

He will take her seriously. He will stop treating her like a child.

The next day at the docks, he recognizes her immediately despite her attempt at disguising herself. The bun may have hidden the long waves, but the color of her hair blazes in the sun. Even a plain, dull dress can't detract from her perfectly petite body. She can't see him from her perch on the wall by the docks.

He simply watches her - he could do that for hours - as she glances up from her book to smile at sailors. He hardly notices the way they smile back, occasionally stumbling as they hold eye contact. It's all a game to her.

He tenses as a group of three boys stop to talk to her. One quickly ensnares her attention but she continues politely nodding when the other boys speak. He desperately wants to know what they're saying but stays hidden. He knows he should stay out of it and mind his own business, but he can't help himself when the boys begin to walk away, one with Ari on his arm.

"Arianna, your father told me I'd find you down here."

"Is there something I can do for you, Captain?" she asks in that cool, unsmiling fashion she's perfected. He smiles though, thinking about what a difficult wife she's going to make for some poor man.

"You can stop calling me Captain. I've known you since you were a babe, Ari. I thought I'd show you the ship before I leave again."

Her face softens but she doesn't say anything until they've walked away from the boys, who only receive a quick bob of her head in parting. Finally she speaks up, "When?"

"Not sure."

"Soon?"

"Likely." His short answers annoy her. Most of what he does annoys her. She steps in front of him and stops.

"Nolan, when are you leaving?" He can't resist smiling at what looks to be a brewing temper tantrum.

"We sail Saturday next. Let me show you around." When he holds out his hand to assist her onto the ship, she doesn't take it. She boards nimbly on her own and makes her way towards the middle of the deck. She looks so tiny as she spins there slowly, soaking it all in, squinting up into the sun.

"It's beautiful," she says finally, looking up at him smiling, dazzling in the sunshine. She was made for the outdoors, not for being bottled up inside a stark mountain mansion. As he walks closer he can see all the tendrils escaping her bun and the frizzy halo around her face. Angelic. It's the only way to describe her.

"You haven't even seen it all." He's mesmerized by her - that smile, that excitement as she takes the steps up to the bridge two at a time, that giggle as she pretends to steer the boat, that

fearlessness and she hops up on the ledge to look down into the water, loosely grasping a rope in one hand.

"Get down from there." His voice is sharp, much sharper than he meant it be. She steps down with a huff and a roll of her eyes. It makes him want to kiss and cuddle and spank her all at once.

"Your father would kill me if you got hurt. One more spot I want to show you." She follows wordlessly to his cabin, not happy about being scolded.

"Welcome to my humble abode," gets a small smile out of her. She flits around the room before sitting on his bed. Dangerous thoughts flash through his mind and an aching need begins to build.

"Must be nice to have a room of your own on a crowded ship." When she lounges onto his bed he can hardly resist taking her right then and there. And she knows it.

When she bends her knee to place her foot on the bed, her dress slides down a little, revealing that bony joint and a peek of her flawless thigh. A slight grin tugs at the corner of his mouth and he shakes his head almost imperceptibly as if reminding himself not to act.

"Let's go. We're going to be late for supper," he tells her, still watching her intently. The sparkle in her eyes fades a little as she floats back down to reality. Unspoken words hang in the air, making the room feel stuffy.

She swings her legs off the bed, bringing her feet down sharply on the ground. Angrily. Her lips press together, giving that delicate face a hard and determined countenance.

"Saturday next?" she asks when she finally looks up at him.

"Yes... but I won't be gone as long this time." Instead of responding, she exits the cabin, not allowing him to catch up until they are on the dock.

"Thank you for showing me your ship, Captain," she mumbles with a quick, jerky curtsy.

Before she takes more than a couple steps, he calls her name, wincing at the roughness of his own voice. She spins around with a doe-eyed, unreadable expression. He desperately wants to know what's going on inside that mind.

"I've asked you twice not to address me so formally, but if you insist on such things, at least do it properly. Your mother would be ashamed by that curtsy."

Her mouth moves as if wanting to say something but words won't cooperate. Why does he always have that effect on her? He watches, amused, as she clamors for a response. Once composed, she dips into an exaggerated curtsy, "Thank you for showing me your ship, Nolan," she coos, her voice laced with sarcasm as she draws out his name. Intense eyes look up at him as she holds the position for a moment, as if daring him to correct her again.

"Good girl," he mutters before she straightens up and flits off. He takes a deep breath to calm himself. She's trouble and he knows it but that only makes him want her more.

Arianna combs her hair at her window, watching the sun set over the water as she does nearly every evening. There's no other land in sight. Arista is the smallest, most remote island in the chain - at least an hour's ride on the fastest private vessel or half a day on the ferry to the next village.

From her perch she can see the docks, which are unrivaled by those of the other islands. Arista is usually the first stop home and the last stop before a voyage. She never tires of watching the hustle and bustle. The sailors, drunkards, and whores. She's not supposed to go out after dark and she has no where to go anyway. She just observes until there's no more light to see by. Sometimes when the moon is full and bright, she'll watch late into the evening.

His ship is the largest and the busiest. Nolan's ship. She hasn't been alone with him since he showed it to her, despite days of trying. Not since she laid on his bed and saw that hungry look in his eyes. What she would do to see that again...

But he sails in the morning and she should go to bed.

No one pays any attention to the small figure weaving in and out of the shadows on the docks. People in the house are too far away and people on the docks are too busy or too drunk. Swiftly and silently. Dark clothes and dark cap.

The stowaway approaches the ship unnoticed, blending into the traffic flowing on and off. Soon it will be time to hide - hopefully somewhere warm and comfortable because it's going to be a long night. A ship is full of hiding places though.

Arianna hardly sleeps, tossing and turning all night in a fit of emotions. When she wakes, it's bright outside but she has no idea what time it is. Surely Nolan will miss her at breakfast.

He hides his disappointment when he realizes Ari won't be joining them for breakfast. Maybe he upset her. Maybe she doesn't even care that he's leaving.

Perhaps it's for the best either way. Her games had to end and nothing right can come from the thoughts he has about his good friend's daughter. They'll find her a rich, powerful man and eventually

she'll learn to be a good little wife. The vision isn't satisfying though. That girl wasn't made for monotony, for settling down.

He tries to clear his mind of her. Today will be a busy day. He'll think of her once out to sea, far away with nothing else to do or think about while she's flirting with boys her own age. But not now, not today.

Today he sails.