A Pirate's Love

Blood Bath

I felt the ropes around my wrists loosen as they were cut with a knife, setting me free from the bondage I endured. Unable to process anything in the moment from shock, my body was pulled from the scene into utter darkness within the ship. Silence was all I could feel; silence of my body, silence of my emotions, silence of my mind, silence of my senses, everything was turned off. The body dragging my own stumbled through the darkness, a firm grip on my arm, though I could barely feel it. The numbness of my being caused my mind to trickle into the sheer bliss of my imagination; to the dream I had subconsciously envisioned. I imagined the same numb feeling that I experienced with Sam on the meadow, our bodies delicately touching as light as a feather. Every bit of comfort and peace I needed was in that moment. Away from reality, I rested my mind in the safe escape of Sam's arms.

My vision slowly faded as the sound of a wooden door shutting turned my senses back on. I was in a dimly lit room, a large washing tub in the center, steam billowing from the water. I scanned the room, trying to process where I was. A small table in the corner held assorted rags, sponges, soaps and bottles. A tall figure walked in my line of sight and fear struck my body as I was pulled back into reality. I watched as Dan Deranged shakily peeled off layers of his blood stained clothing, revealing his exposed body. His muscles twitching in the low lighting, he slowly stepped into the bath, groaning as his skin hit the heated water. He disappeared under the water for three seconds, then reappeared, wiping the water from his eyes. His eyes still closed, he leaned back in the tub and rested his head on the rim, his breathing ragged and intermittent. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his stretched throat. His piercing, hazel eyes suddenly met mine, catching me by surprise, causing me to unintentionally hold my breath.

"Come forward," he spoke, in a low, tenacious tone. I slowly made my way towards him, trying to avoid the sight of his bare body by keeping my eyes glued to his. My peripheral vision betraying me, I could see every carved muscle sculpted and every dark hair plastered on his body. "Clean the filth seeping into my pores, now," he ordered. His voice sent the thin hairs on my arms to stand up in a chill.

Knowing I needed to obey, I moved over to the table in the corner and glided my fingertips over the assorted rags and sponges. If I made one wrong move it could all be over in an instant. Selecting the softest of each, I slowly avoided the bloody clothes on the floor and stepped towards the man in the bath. His eyes caught mine as he watched my every move. He held out his right arm to me as I inched closer. I took a hold of it, his skin stained with deep red blood splatters, and I gently scrubbed with the sponge to purify it. As every hair was washed clean, the bath water turned a pink-red color. I shuffled to the other side of the tub and lifted his left arm out of the water, performing the same ritual that was executed on his right one. His head sunk back onto the rim of the tub in relaxation, the full weight of his arm in my hands. I brushed the sponge up his arm and to his neck, all drops of dried blood pooling into the water surrounding him. I momentarily rinsed the sponge in the bath water before bringing it to his red face, gently purging the sin tarnishing his appearance. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes as I trailed down his chest and ribs. His skin was soft under the water, but his heart was ramming violently in his chest. He grasped my wrist with one of his hands, not as firmly as he once did before, but still in urgency. He slithered his other hand from his chest, down his body, to where I could not see in the now deep red water. His glazed over, lustful eyes made direct contact with mine. I knew what he wanted, but I would not let him take what was mine to give. I looked away, dropped the sponge in the water, slowly uncurled his fingers from my wrist, and he sluggishly let go. I stood from behind him and took up his tangled curls into my fingers, soaking them in the water. After washing and rinsing them clean, I used the rag to scrunch them dry, perfect ringlets forming around his shoulders.

I watched from above as he leaned back and roamed his own body with his hands, letting out breathy sighs. "Please," he begged in a whisper as he looked up at me, unexpectedly sending warmth throughout my body. Something about his words caused my mind to cloud; the once fearlessly brutal pirate, a man endlessly powerful, now tortured and begging to be undone at my hands. I stepped to the side of the tub as he toyed with himself, his body melting into the crimson water, his mouth open agape.

Without really thinking, I reached my hand into the blood bath and glided my hand down his body. I watched his eyes roll back as I replaced his hand with my own. His breath hitched as he propped himself up with his arms on the rim of the tub, and he let out a low moan. I watched him intently, every movement sending him deeper over the edge. He slowly reached up and messed his wet fingers through the hair on the side of my head, then gently pulled me in closer by the back of my neck. I leaned in and could feel his breath on my lips as he let out another sigh of pleasure, just before connecting our lips together. Our lips moved slowly and sloppily as he soaked in every bit of satisfaction I was providing. I slowed my movements, teasing him on purpose, and he dipped his tongue between my lips, begging me to continue. He broke away as I did just that, his head hitting the rim of the tub as he leaned back, letting out another moan. Maybe it was dangerous to participate in his pleasure, but for the first time on this journey, I felt in control. I was in control. He was like putty in my hands, my every move controlling his every desire. He rolled his head on the rim of the tub to look at me straight on. His eyes pulled me in, craving completion.

"It's no wonder Jake kept you," he whispered, clarity hitting my mind in an instant. I froze, unable to move. Thoughts of the Captain flooded my mind, along with his crew, slaughtered at the hands of the man in front of me. His soft lips curled up in a smirk, mocking my petrification. I pulled my hand out of the water, disgusted and ashamed at my action, only for my wrist to be caught up in his grasp once again, this time firm and forceful as before. "You will finish," he ordered, his expression completely dark. He was only doing this to get back at Jake. He was using me for revenge. I choked on the tears welling inside of me, my nose burning and head starting to pound. His words hit me like a ship slicing into the sea, hitting the ocean floor, ship wrecked. From the very beginning, from the moment I stepped into the low lit room with the deranged man, I was never in control. I would aways be controlled if I stayed on The Funeral of Innocence; controlled by the man of madness mocking his enemies by bathing in a pool of their diluted blood.