Bound By Moonlight

I fought against the rough rope binding my wrists, its fibers cutting into my skin with each desperate tug. The sting of blood warmed my hands, a harsh reminder of my precarious situation. Darkness engulfed the cabin as the last candle flickered out, leaving only the cold silver of the moon filtering through the barred window.

A heavy silence pressed down on me, broken only by the occasional creak of the wooden floor and the distant slap of waves against the hull. My pulse throbbed in my ears, sharp pain shooting up from my wrists. Panic threatened to overtake me, but I forced myself to breathe, slow and steady, keeping my mind fixed on escape.

I strained to listen, trying to sense his movements in the shadows. The uneven rise and fall of his chest suggested he had finally succumbed to sleep. My eyes adjusted to the dimness, and I caught the outline of him sprawled on the bed, the soft curve of the moonlight casting his figure in sharp relief. Now was my chance.

Ignoring the sharp sting of my raw skin, I twisted and pulled at the ropes. Each movement sent jolts of pain through my arms, but the small smear of blood gave me just enough friction to work with. Slowly, agonizingly, the fibers loosened. A tiny victory, but enough to let me slip one wrist free. With renewed determination, I worked the knots with clumsy fingers, and finally, the ropes gave way entirely. Freedom, or at least a step toward it, was within my grasp.

I retrieved the long hairpin hidden in my hair, the cool metal firm and reassuring in my hand. My auburn hair spilled across my shoulders, catching the moonlight in a halo of silver. Holding my breath, I guided the pin into the lock of the cage door. Each turn of the metal felt like it took hours. The faint clicks of tumblers moving echoed loudly in the room, sounding impossibly loud in the stillness. With a sharp final click, the cage door creaked open. My heart surged as I pushed it wider. The movement stirred Captain Blackthorn, who bolted upright with a grunt, eyes flashing with fury.

I darted toward the cabin door, adrenaline propelling me forward, my pulse hammering in my chest. The doorknob was within reach, almost, but then a rough tug yanked me back by my hair. Pain exploded across my scalp as I hit the floor with a thud, the impact knocking the air from my lungs. He loomed above me, a mask of rage twisting his features, his hand cruelly holding my hair like a leash.

“You think you can just escape?” he growled, his voice low and menacing.

He twisted his hand deeper into my hair, dragging me back with a vicious jerk that sent pain lancing through my scalp. Tears pricked my eyes, but I blinked them away, forcing myself to hold on to a shred of defiance. I needed to get away from him.

“I wonder, pet, where you thought you were going?” he taunted. “We’re on the open sea.”

He stepped back for a heartbeat, his eyes raking over me with cold detachment as though I were a piece of cargo he’d caught trying to roll off the deck. The room was silent except for the sound of my ragged breaths and the steady creak of the ship beneath us. He moved closer again, his presence looming over me, his eyes boring into my back. Suddenly, a sharp motion rent the fabric of my dress. The sound of tearing cloth echoed like thunder in the small cabin, the cold air hitting my skin and making me flinch.

“What are you doing?” I gasped.

“You’re going to be punished, pet,” he replied, an unsettling satisfaction creeping into his tone.

Before I could move, the sharp crack of a whip lashed across my back. The sound was deafening, the pain searing through my flesh like fire. I clenched my teeth to suppress a scream, but a pained gasp escaped instead. My knees buckled, yet I fought to stay upright, refusing to let him see me break.

“Do you understand now?” he growled, his voice as frigid and merciless as the whip itself.

I nodded weakly, breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts. The pain coursed through my body, but I would not let it destroy me. Another lash followed, the crack echoing ominously through the room. This time, a cry tore from my throat before I could stop it. Tears threatened to spill, but I blinked them away, resolute in my defiance.

“Good,” he said, satisfaction lacing his words. “Remember this, pet. Disobedience has consequences.”

He stepped close enough that I could feel the heat of his body against my raw back, his grip on my arms bruising but not yet crushing. His presence was suffocating, a wall of control and power pressing in on me.

I froze, my pulse hammering, waiting for the next blow. Instead he leaned down, his voice a low rasp against my ear. “You think you’re strong,” he murmured. “Let’s see how long that lasts.”

He didn’t touch me in any intimate way, but he forced me down, shoving my face against the plush pillows, muffling my cries and obscuring my view of the world beyond. The softness offered no comfort as I struggled to draw breath, the collar at my throat tightening like a vise, amplifying the panic clawing its way up my chest. Finally, mercifully, it stopped. The pressure of his presence lifted slightly. I heard the leash and collar fall onto the bed with a soft thud.

“Get yourself cleaned up,” his voice cut through the silence, sharp and commanding.

I nodded silently, my movements slow and unsteady as I pushed myself up from the bed. Every muscle in my body ached, every nerve ending raw with sensation.

“I will be presenting you to the crew today,” he said.

I made my way to the washroom, each step a struggle against the ache that radiated from my battered back. The pain was relentless, like a fire consuming me from within, and I cried out involuntarily, the sound echoing off the walls of the cabin. His laughter followed me like a haunting melody. I stumbled forward, my vision blurred with tears, the sting of his amusement cutting deeper than any physical wound. In the washroom, I turned on the faucet, the cool water a balm against my scorched skin. With trembling hands, I gingerly began to clean away the remnants of his punishment, each touch sending jolts of pain shooting through me.

I tended to my wounds as best I could. The fabric of the dress he had chosen for the day felt like sandpaper against my raw flesh. I bit back a cry of agony, the effort of keeping my composure almost unbearable. Before I could finish getting dressed, the door burst open with a force that made me stagger backward. Captain Blackthorn stood in the doorway, his presence looming like a specter of doom. He yanked my wrist with bruising force, his grip leaving angry red marks in its wake.

“Time to go, pet,” his voice was a low growl.