Confiskate

Chapter One

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Important:

Hi.  Just a couple things.  First, despite how this book starts off, it's not dominatrix erotica or anything like that.  Kate is a strong woman in a world where women aren't supposed to be strong.  Secondly, Kate will do things that the average person would never.  She's not a sweet, kind girl.  If you're okay with both of those things, read on!

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We entered without knocking. In a place like this, though, people are used to it.

"Are you Kate, then?"

He's standing at the window, arms by his sides. I raise an eyebrow. "I am."

That's when my companions seem to catch his attention. He frowns slightly.

"Groups cost more."

I smirk. "They just like to watch. It's their job." I pat Devlin on his muscular bicep. "They're my guards.

Jonathan, the whore, laughs. "That's certainly a new one."

"What can I say, I'm unique."

Morrow closes the bedroom's door, and he and Devlin take up their positions against the opposite wall. I consider sitting on the bed, but decide against it—I'd rather not think about what's gone on in there. I join Jonathan at the window instead.

"I want you to touch yourself," I tell him. "Grip hard, and go fast. But you are not to finish without informing me first." I make sure my expression is neutral. Let him think I get off on voyeurism. I'm sure it's nothing he hasn't heard before.

He grins, cocky. "Your companions aren't the only ones who enjoy watching, then?"

I keep my face impassive. He shrugs.

At Morrow's urging, I've worn my corset lower and tighter than usual. My breasts are bulging out the top. I personally think I look ridiculous, but Morrow assured me it would capture the whore's attention. Based on the engorged cock he pulls out from his trousers, either Morrow was spot-on or Jonathan engaged in some self-play before we got here.

Jonathan grips himself tightly before he begins pumping. He's large, I'll give him that—long and thick. I'm sure that, coupled with his carefully trimmed stubble and good looks, is what makes him irresistible to the wives of the town's merchant population. I cross my arms, knowing that it'll push my breasts up even further. Annoyed, I have to accept that Morrow was right when the whore's pupils dilate and his breath comes in shorter, harder pants.

I'm sure that he's getting close. Although longevity is likely prized among his usual client, it doesn't seem to apply to self-abuse. He pants loudly and groans. In a husky voice, he expels the words, "I'm close."

That's when I reach out and grip the base of his cock. I squeeze tightly. He jerks and then squirms.

"What?" He's still breathing hard. He forces a smile. "Did you want to join me?"

I squeeze harder. His hips buck. Sweat begins to bead along his brow.

"I have some questions for you, Jonathan. If you answer them well, I'll let you...finish.  If not, I'll have to let my companions extract the information from you their way." I twist my hand to the side. He exhales sharply. "I don't think either of us want that, do we Jonathan?"

His eyes narrow. "What do you want?"

"One of your...clients has given you something. Something we need. We want you to give it to us."

"Why would I?" He retorts. Stupid man. This would go better for him if he cooperated. I release his cock and tell him to resume.

"What?" He says again. I raise an eyebrow.

"Again. Same rules."

"What...?"

Devlin takes a step forward. Having his arms crossed gives off a rather different impression than when I did it—Devlin's very strong. His muscular arms are obviously superior to the whore's. The whore swallows, and then resumes his self-ministrations. Minutes pass.  He's barely opened his mouth to speak when I close my hand around him. This time, his face is red.

"Why," he gasps. "Why is it important?"

"That's none of your concern." My voice is cold.

It takes half of the next hour before he gives in. By that point, his balls are presumably heavy and blue-tinged with need. That's what Morrow told me to expect, at any rate. I've avoided looking at the whore's orbs. That part of the male anatomy tends to look ridiculous to me, and I needed to keep my composure. Morrow collects the object we need from a loose floorboard below the bed, and we take our leave of the whorehouse.

As soon as we're back on the ship, I rush to the galley and request a pot of hot water. I submerge my hands, and then scrub at them with the abrasive soap Cook buys for the main purpose of sanitizing the ship's head. Obviously, this particular bar has not been used for that purpose yet. That done, I douse my hands with rum, knowing that the alcohol will effectively kill off any diseases that may have been present on the whore's prized possession.

Morrow groans. "Waste of rum, Kate."

I glare at him. "You're not the one who's had to touch the ship that's sailed a thousand oceans."

Devlin laughs. I supress a shudder.

I know that either Morrow or Devlin could have beaten the location out of the whore, but I preferred my methods. I'm not a woman who hides behind men, and I wasn't going to start today.

I head toward our Captain's cabin. Although I own the vessel, I'd needed a crew. Devlin and Morrow had hired them—I wasn't stupid enough to do it myself. There's a fine line between asserting my independence and being an idiot. No self-respecting man would sign up to crew a woman's vessel unless they believed her to be under the influence of a man. In my case, two men. Obviously, the crew had figured out who really held the power, and they dealt with it or were cast off at the nearest port. We had only one man who refused to work for me this time, and Morrow cheerfully threw him off the deck in the direction of the nearest port. It was within swimming distance of the pier, but Morrow felt it was necessary. I agreed.

I knock on the door. It's not courtesy for the captain, but for myself—I've seen enough of the male anatomy for this morning. Captain Fitzgerald calls out a welcome, and I enter.

"We're ready to head off whenever possible, Fitzgerald."

He nods. He's sitting at his small desk-table. Well, it's small compared to mine, anyway. He's poring over charts of some sort—I'm not close enough to determine which.

"Did you find everything you were searching for?" he asks.  I grin.  

I think Fitzgerald has some idea of what it is that I do.  He's never mentioned it, though.  According to the land authorities, what I did today would be considered theft.  Add a ship into the mix and it becomes piracy.  That's not quite what I'm about, but it could be argued that I am a pirate.  And that's enough for my crew and myself to see the inside of a prison cell.

"I always find what I look for, Fitzgerald."  I grin.  He nods once, stretches, and stands.

"I'll tell Jenkins to prepare to sail."

Afterward, I lock myself in my cabin.  It's the largest on the ship, which befits my status as 'owner'.  I'll leave the cabin once we get out of the harbour, but for now I prefer my own company.  And that of the object recovered today.

One step closer, Kate.  I turn it over in my hands.  I'm not excited--I'm simply determined.  I need to follow through with this.  I just haven't been completely honest with Devlin and Morrow about what 'this' actually entails.