Cabin Girl
(M/g [also M/b but 'nosex'] ped spank reluc roman historic)

Written by cc


	[THWAP!] "AAAH!" Patience cried out as the tawse snapped onto her bare bottom, and, "OOO-OOO-OOOH!" she wailed as her tormenter punished her again and again with the leather tool. She was bent over the 'punishment stool', as it was called in the workhouse, bare naked, a little nine-year-old girl being 'disciplined' by the headmaster. Her infraction had been having the temerity for asking for another bowl of the meager gruel the children were given as their daily ration, gnawing hunger outweighing her fear. She regretted her momentary boldness now, as he strapped her repeatedly, bringing a red flush to her buttocks, then shifting his aim to the backs of her thighs, [SMAK-SMAK-SMAK!]. "AH! AH! AH!" she moaned miserably. Her legs were widespread; bitter experience had taught the little girls of the workhouse not to press their thighs together during punishment. Even involuntary motions in that direction brought even harsher strokes upon their nakedness. So she bared herself, shivering at the knowledge that her private parts were so exposed to the view of a grown man. Even as she blushed at the thought, the headmaster brought the tawse to bear directly on her anus and immature, unfledged cleft, [WHAP-WHAP-WHAP!] "AAAAAAH!" she nearly screamed from the sting and the embarrassment of knowing that her intimacies were being so lasciviously disciplined.

	Finally he tossed the ancient tool aside, then stroked her reddened girlflesh under the guise of 'checking to make sure she'd been properly punished', his fingers kneading and working her stinging buttocks and thighs, then descending into the crease between her bottom cheeks to pinch and press. Such handling could not fail to stimulate the poor girl, and her breathing became ragged, sobs interspersed with low moans, her knees weak, her mouth dry, an inexplicable moistness gathering between her legs.

	Finally he released her with a contemptuous [SMACK!] to her buttocks, sending her scurrying to gather up her ragged clothes, barely sufficient to cover her nakedness, and scramble to the space on the bare floor which served as her bed.

	Who was she? Just another poor orphan girl in the Dickensian world of early 1800's England, in one way. But she had a spirit many of the other children lacked, being the unacknowledged (indeed, unknown to him) offspring of the dashing younger son of the Earl of *****, the result of a brief dalliance with a pretty tavern wench. She in turn dropped the girl off as an infant outside the workhouse door and never looked back. Workhouse wardens and matrons named her, raised her, fed and clothed her (if the scraps and rags they gave can be glorified with such terms). Intermittently they abused her as well, more and more as she grew, often singling her out, partly to quell the occasional flash of spirit she displayed, partly because she was easily the prettiest of the unfortunate little girls housed there. The only tenderness she had known was when an elderly couple, much influenced by the preaching of George Whitefield, whom they had heard in their youth, ministered to the children of the workhouse. Under their gentle tutelage Patience had learned to read beyond the simple basics enforced by law, and had even converted. But recently they had been forced by ill health to leave, and no one yet had been found to take their place (though, if Patience had only known it, a delegation from their church was on its way, inflamed by the reports given by the elderly couple of the abuse of the children, lessened though it was by their presence; they were determined to reform that workhouse, and many more like it).

	Perhaps it was that the loss of the elderly couple's comforting presence was so keen. Perhaps it was the influence of their teaching. Perhaps it was simply her growing maturity and awareness of life in general. In any case Patience came to the realization that her situation was not only bad, but likely to get worse. She had heard rumors of what happened to girls only a little older than she.

	She decided to run away. It was not very difficult. The workhouse staff kept little in the way of records, and only a rudimentary head count was taken. The front door was locked, but there were windows, and a cellar, and loose boards. Soon she was out on the street in the dim light of early morning, with nothing but the rags on her back and a reader the couple had left for her.

	Of course the street held perils as well, some worse than the workhouse, if less...regularly scheduled. Food was even scarcer than in the workhouse, consisting as it did of what she could beg, or the scraps left outside a tavern for the dogs. It was, perhaps, inevitable: lured by the promise of tempting food, she was captured by an old crone, who in turn gave her up to a man, who leered at her and dragged her into a back room. Two or three other men, rough and dirty, foul-mouthed, joined him in jeering at the girl, and talking amongst them of how they intended to strip her and use her. 

	Patience was in a daze. It all had happened so fast she was just beginning to become afraid. But it only lasted a few moments. Then another man strode into the room. He took one look at the girl, and the situation, and began to berate the other men. "Y'fools," he scowled, "Carn't y'see this one is too valuable for you to play with? Would y'waste a hundred pounds? And we'll get thrice that for this one, I'll warrant, once she's properly trained. I know a lord or two who'll give a pretty penny for such a lass as this."

	He took her away to another part of the house. The room was small, but comfortable. He spoke more softly to her, brought her food, nicer clothes. She was left mostly alone for a few days, but then he returned. He told her that she was to be trained to be a 'courtesan'. She didn't understand the word. He said that she would have to learn to 'respond properly'. What this meant was that she was to be punished daily: stripped, spanked, and whipped. Before she could absorb this or react to it, he said, "And we'll start right now," and hauled her over his lap. He tossed up the hem of her shift and began to spank her on her bare bottom, [WHAP-WHAP-WHAP!]

	"AH-AH-AH!" Patience cried out, kicking her little legs as he reddened her buttocks. But really he was not spanking her very hard; she had had worse at the workhouse. He was not gentle out of true concern for her; his intent was to train her to respond sexually to discipline. In time he hoped to have her conditioned to the point that she could be flogged to orgasm. He could name his price for her then, he knew.  So he ceased her punishment when her buttocks were only fetchingly reddened, and began to soothingly rub her bottom, gently kneading and caressing her, working his hand downward as she whimpered.

	He treated her thus for many days. At first he only spanked her, and rubbed her bottom afterwards. Then he had her stand in front of him, and made her take her clothes off, spanking her thigh sharply when she dithered and pleaded. Then she was naked in front of him, a little preteen girl before a grown man. 

	She was heartbreakingly slender, with the face of an angel in despair as she stood so exposed. Her breasts were mere buds, topped by sweet nipples, her hips had only begun to think about flaring. Her cleft was gorgeously unfledged, nestled between her slim thighs, her clitoris prominent between her puffy nether lips. He strode around her, slapping a leathern tawse against his palm as she trembled. [SMACK-SWAP!] he swung the ancient tool against the backs of her thighs, and [WHAP-WHAP-WHAP!] again on her already reddened bottom as she danced and yelped. He disciplined her thus for a small time, until her thighs and bottom were somewhat more deeply reddened, and the tears had started to her eyes, and her little cries and moans filled the air. Then he tossed the implement aside and took her in his arms, squeezing and caressing her, rubbing and soothing her as she trembled. 

	After more days of similar treatment he began to shift his aim. Soon she was receiving stroke after stroke of the tawse directly upon her nipples and breastbuds, her upper and inner thighs, and even full upon her unfledged cleftlips and clitoris as she cried out wildly, writhing from the sting, and the embarrassment, and the intensity of this most intimate discipline. Afterwards he rubbed and soothed her as before, now letting his hands roam freely over her private areas, pressing and pinching, pulling and twisting, her breath coming short, her knees weakening, her mouth dry, an inexplicable moistness welling between her legs.

	Patience hardly knew what to think of all of this. Some part of her was aware, of course, that she was being abused, and was likely to suffer even worse in days to come. Another part of her was deeply affected, and almost longed for her tormenter's appearance every day. In between times she often would lie on her little cot and remember his treatment of her, and rub her cleft and clitoris as she moaned. 

	But stimulating and even pleasurable as his treatment of her was at times, she knew that she must escape.  She collected a few scraps of clothing and her reader in a makeshift bag, and awaited an opportunity. Providentially, her captors had become lax in their watchfulness, she having given them no indication that she was even significantly unhappy, let alone being willing to risk an escape attempt; she had been told what would happen to her if she tried, and had been shown the belt that would be used.

	On a day when the men were gone, and the old crone snored in her chair, she slipped out the back door. She caught a glimpse of a man rounding a corner, and fled in panic, fearing the sound of boots behind her. But none came.

	She ran and ran, and found herself near the docks. She had seldom been there before, though she loved the sight of the ships, and the smell of the salt air. 

	She wandered about, looking at the sloops and schooners, and even frigates tied up at the quays. Out farther in the harbor were the ships of the line, too large for the docks; their dinghies and captain's launches ferried back and forth.

	She saw the men, and boys, too, streaming off and on the ships, the freight being stowed, the passengers coming aboard. Her attention was drawn to a small knot of men in front of one of the frigates, talking loudly. She became aware that one, who seemed to be a mate of some sort, was complaining to another, who appeared to be the captain, that some of the crew were not going to be rejoining the ship. Some were ill. Some could not be found. "Even the cabin boy's gone," said the mate. "'E's down with the 'grippe', and 'is sainted mother's 'ere with a letter from 'is Lordship the Baron of **** sayin' we've got to let'er take 'im. We'll have the dev'l of a time filling out our complement, beggin' yer pardon, Sir."

	"Never mind, Jones, we'll be all right. We're not going into action, after all, we'll be off to the Azores. Some scientist from the Academy has got the Admiralty's ear, and we're to run him 'round while he gathers specimens. Just make do as best you can; we leave within the hour!" the captain replied, and turned away on other matters.

	Patience came to a sudden decision. Perhaps it was the smell of the salt air. Perhaps it was the look of the captain, tall and grave, yet with a kindly air. She scampered to a stall she had all ready seen, where a man with sharp scissors stood ready to cut off almost anyone's hair; if there was enough of it he would even pay for the privilege, the cuttings going to make hair for the doll of some rich little girl. Patience had long hair, and her captors had made sure she kept it clean and well-brushed. The man fairly leapt at the opportunity, and gave Patience ha'pence, which she spent down the lane at a shop which sold, among other things, boys' clothing. 

	A quick duck into an alley, and her little shift was shed, replaced by a boy's blouse and trousers, and a cap on her head. Buckle shoes, the best she had ever had, for all they were secondhand, completed her outfit. Then she raced back to the frigate. With relief she saw it was still tied up, the men and gear still coming on board. 

	She sidled up to the captain who stood looking on, and shyly touched his sleeve. 

	"Begging your pardon, Sir," she timidly piped. He turned and looked down to see what he assumed was a boy, perhaps a bit small for his age.

	"Yes, lad?" he replied, kindly enough, with only a hint of the impatience many a man in his position would have bridled with at being accosted by such an unimportant person at such a time.

	"I-I'd like to join your crew, Sir," the child said.

	"Hmmm...how old are you? Seven, eight? P'raps you should come back when you're a mite older, lad," the captain replied, not unkindly.

	"Ten. I'm ten, Sir, and I'd very much like to join your crew. I'll work ever so hard, and I'll give you no trouble. Please, please, Sir?" Little Patience looked up at him with pleading eyes. 

	The captain was touched, although he did not realize it fully. Something about this child.  He came to an abrupt decision. "Very well, get on board. Find the second mate, Mr Gibbs, tell him you're the new cabin boy, he'll sign you on and give you your orders." He turned away to other duties. Patience scrambled on board.

	So she began a new existence. Here there were dangers, to be sure, but nothing like she had experienced before. Falling overboard, or falling afoul of one of the mates, was all she had to fear. There was clean salt air, and plenty of food, and duties to keep her busy. At night there was music: fiddles and pipes, and sailors dancing the jig. 

	To the crew she seemed small, but lithe and pleasant, if shy. She soon became a favorite, and they would give her little treats, or bits of scrimshaw they had carved. Even the cook would smile at her when she came to fetch the captain's tray, for she threw herself into her duties, never talking back or trying to shirk. 

	She made the acquaintance of the special passenger on board, the scientist going to collect rare specimens. He was a kind, somewhat older man, a Reverend ******, retired from his parish, and free now to pursue his avocation, zoology. He found the little 'cabin boy' to be charming and remarkably intelligent, and spent much time regaling 'him' with tales of the wonders of Creation in the far-flung parts of the world that he had visited.

	There were other young folk on board. Some were midshipmen, and there was a 'powder monkey' or two being trained as well. It was inevitable: soon after the voyage began she witnessed ship discipline. One of the younger midshipmen had played some prank or other, and the first mate brought him up for punishment. He was bent over one of the ship's cannon, his breeches pulled down, and whipped by the bosun soundly on his bare bottom as he howled. Those of the ship's company who gathered to watch the fun jeered, but somewhat good-naturedly. The mate swung his whip skillfully, reddening the boy's buttocks but not breaking the skin other than a small welt or two. He made sure that the tip cracked occasionally directly into the boy's anus, bared fully for his punishment. Indeed, the mate took a special pleasure in his duty, though he would have preferred a little girl's bottom to be the object of his ministrations. Yet he was not cruel, and did not desire to give great pain. He stopped well short of the point to which many others in the British navy at that time would have gone. The boy only had to eat standing up for part of a day, and was soon skylarking in the rigging with his mates.

	But Patience was aghast. What if she were brought up for punishment? The cook had already hinted at it, though she gave him no excuse, warning her that she would be 'for the cat' if she didn't hurry up with the captain's dishes. And one by one she saw the other children on board so treated, some more than once. It seemed that most of the officers took delight in seeing the young boys stretched over the cannon, their bare, smooth bottoms presented for the bosun's 'cat' (really a scaled-down version of the cat-o'-nine-tails usually used;  also it was made of softer stuff, so it would not break the skin or cause more than a sting, really; the bosun reserved it for use on his younger victims), their little penises dangling between their legs, then stiffening in response to the sting on their buttocks and anuses. Often some pretext for punishment was used when there had been little or even no offense in reality. And the boys did not seem to mind; they were very well-treated otherwise, the punishments were less harsh than many they had had at home or school. And it was well understood that the captain, though he quietly enjoyed the spectacle as well, would not stand for anything else being done; the young boys were not to be abused in any other way. Indeed, sodomy was a capital offense in the British Navy at the time, for all it was practiced frequently in dark corners.

	The little cabin 'boy' tried 'his' best, but it didn't matter. Such a cute young child, and everyone knew 'he' would come to no harm anyway, so no one thought anything of it when the mate gave the cook a nudge and a wink, and next thing Patience knew he was accusing her of being slow with the captain's tray, and she was being hustled towards one of the cannon, where the bosun was swinging his 'cat', and the crew was gathering 'round with grins on their faces.  

	Patience was nearly rigid with fright. What would happen to her, when her pants were pulled down, and everyone saw that the little cabin 'boy' was a girl?! She had no idea, but she was desperate not to find out. With a quick duck she twisted out of the hands of the mate and dashed for the captain's cabin.

	The captain had seen the little cabin 'boy' being taken for a whipping. At first he looked out his door to watch. However something in the demeanor of the child troubled him, and he decided he did not want to see any more.  But he found his mind drifting back?

	"Oh, please, please, 'Daddy', do I haveta be whipped!?" his 'little girl' begged piteously. But the captain was implacable. 

	"You've been a naughty girl, and naughty girls must be punished," he intoned. "You know the rules: everything off for discipline." Slowly and 'reluctantly', his 'little girl' removed her pinafore and her petticoats, and the rest of her underclothes, until she stood naked in front of him. In his mind's eye she was a pretty little preteen, slender, only up to his chest in height, with only buds for breasts. Her cleft nearly matched his imagination, for it appeared unfledged, like a little girl's. 

	"Clasp your hands behind your head," he commanded, and she did so, whimpering softly, appearing deeply embarrassed to be so exposed in front of a grown man. He ran his hands up and down her front lasciviously, kneading and working her breasts, pinching and tweaking her nipples, then diving down, down, to the core of her being, seizing her cleftlips and clitoris, pulling and twisting, then probing her deeply as he spanked her soundly on her bottom with his other hand, [SMACK-SMACK-SMACK!].

	"Ah-Ah-Ah!" she cried out passionately, hips rocking, clearly being stimulated by the punishment and sexual abuse. Soon she was evidently climaxing in his hands as he interspersed sharp spanks directly on her cleft and clitoris as she yelped and came and came. 

	He ordered her to kneel on the bed, and put her chest down. "Oh, please, 'Daddy', do I haveta be raped?! Oh, please, please 'Daddy', I'm only ten!" But in reply he simply pulled his rampant rod from his trousers, and without preamble thrust repeatedly and deeply into her cleft, still wet with the juices of her orgasm, as she cried out hoarsely and rhythmically, until he spent himself within her with a groan, collapsing on the bed next to her, hugging her tightly as she chuckled in satisfaction. 

	Then he and his wife took up clothes and a wash basin and did some very necessary cleaning up!

	Theirs was a so very satisfying relationship, she was young and slender and pretty, and so willing to 'play-act' as his little 'daughter', seeming to derive as much pleasure from the game as he did. But it was not to last. She was taken from him suddenly, in childbirth, as so many women were in that age of 'childbed fever', no knowledge of antisepsis, no antibiotics. He was bereft, nearly inconsolable, but he threw himself into his duties, and eventually was rewarded with command of a brand new frigate. 

	His mind was returned to the present as suddenly the door burst open and the cabin 'boy' rushed in, slammed the door behind 'him', and fell to 'his' knees in front of the captain, crying, "Please, Sir, please, Sir, please don't let them whip me!" The captain was stunned. Nothing like this had ever happened before. The interests of ship discipline called for him to immediately turn the child back over to the mate, with instructions for a more severe whipping to boot. But something in the little child's eyes?

	The mate appeared at the door, and the captain quickly turned to him and said, "Leave us for a moment, Mr. Jones, but remain close by."

	"Aye-aye, Sir," the mate replied, with a quizzical look, and shut the door.

	"Now, lad, what's all this? Don't you know I should have you whipped all the more soundly for refusing ship discipline? Explain yourself!" The captain tried to be stern, but in truth the sorrow and distress on the child's face, tears streaming down, moved him in a strange way.

	"Please, Captain, please, you...you whip me. You can whip me just as hard as you want, but you do it. Right here, so no one else can see. If...if you do it, you'll see why..." at this the child broke down, sobbing, collapsing on the floor.

	The captain picked the little cabin 'boy' up, sat down in his chair, and set 'him' on his lap. "There, now little one, all right. That's what we'll do, and we'll see what this is all about." He couldn't imagine what was going on. Perhaps the child had some deformity?

	He went to the door. "Fetch me the bosun's 'cat'," he ordered, and it was done. He told the mate, "Mr. Jones, I have decided to administer ship's discipline to the lad myself this time. You may stay by the door so that you can hear that it is being done." The mate was clearly startled, but complied.

	There was a long tom in the captain's cabin, to be manned if the ship were in action. "Now, lad, just you drop your trousers and bend over the barrel," the captain commanded. Slowly and reluctantly the child complied. 

	Once she was bent over the barrel, her unfledged cleft was bared to the captain's gaze. Patience even parted her thighs, perhaps remembering subconsciously the workhouse routine. The captain dropped the 'cat' with an oath, and staggered back to sit in his chair. His mind was numb, and yet working furiously at the same time. 

	He was an experienced captain of the British Navy, used to having to make quick, complicated decisions in unexpected circumstances, to balance and combine disparate problems successfully.  He arose and leaned down to speak into the little girl's ear, "Listen, la?young lady, the mate and the crew are expecting to hear you being punished. We must not let them think anything more is amiss; I'm sure they're curious enough as it is. So I must go through with whipping you, and I'm afraid I don't dare hold back much; they'll need to hear you, and it has to sound real. The best way to have it sound real is for it to be real. I'm terribly sorry."

	"Th-that's all right, Sir, I'm sorry for causing you trouble. Thank you so much for...for punishing me yourself," little Patience replied meekly, and stuck her little bottom out, and spread her legs even further.

	Inwardly the captain groaned at the sight. Part of him wanted to spare the little preteen girl, to protect her in any way he could. Part of him couldn't wait to see and hear the soft 'cat' smacking onto her bottom! And the coldly rational part of him, the naval captain part, knew that the best thing for her was to go through with the punishment without delay.

	He swung the whip back and forth against the little girl's trembling buttocks, [SWHACK-THWACK!]. "AAAHH! OOOO! OH, PLEASE, SIR, PLEASE, SIR, I'LLBEGOODI'LLBEGOODI'LLBEGOOD!" she cried piteously; yet her body's movements belied her protests. The captain could hardly believe it, but the little girl seemed to writhe with passion, and to push her bottom out even farther to receive each stroke. Little drops of moisture could even be seen gathering on the lips of her unfledged cleft, framed so prettily between her thighs. Almost against his will the captain swung the whip so that the tips snapped full against the lips and clitoris of her girlcleft, [SMACK!] "AAAAAA! OO-OO-OO-OO!" she cried even more intensely. The captain hoped outside his cabin it sounded more pained; he himself could clearly hear the passion, almost lust, in her voice.

	He tried to keep a clear head. He halted her discipline after what he hoped was the appropriate interval, though he had nearly lost track of time under the circumstances. He put down the 'cat' and said, "You may get up now, young lady."

	"I-is that all?" she asked timidly, and the captain was almost sure there was a note of...disappointment in her voice!

	"Yes. But we need to talk, and I must have some counsel. I'm afraid we'll have to let the mate in on your...secret. And I think we'll ask Reverend ***** in as well."

	"A-all right. Sir," she hastily remembered to add, and stood disconsolately, wondering what would happen to her now.

	"Mr. Jones, would you come in please, and call for Reverend *****," the captain called, and the alert first officer hollered for the scientist, then entered.

	"I'm afraid you'll have to show him," the captain said to the child. Reluctantly she lowered her trousers, giving the mate a clear view of her faintly reddened unfledged cleft nestled between her thighs. He fairly gaped in astonishment, as the captain signed for her to cover herself again. "You see the problem, Mr. Jones."

	"Aye, Sir, I do! What's to be done?" the mate replied.

	At that moment the scientist tapped on the door and announced himself. The captain called for him to enter. "Reverend *****, I have a conundrum I'd appreciate your advice on," he said. "Child, you'll have to show him, too." 

	Patience began to lower her trousers again. "How many men are going to have to look at my little girlhood?" she briefly thought to herself. 

	But the Reverend forestalled her. "No need for that," he called out quickly, "I know all about it. Your little 'cabin boy' is a cabin girl, isn't she?" 

	The two officers and the little girl stared at him. "H-how did you know?" the captain asked, hoping that he really wanted to hear the answer. Surely Reverend ***** hadn't done anything to her...But the little girl was clearly just as surprised.

	"Oh, it was nothing in particular, and everything together. You forget I spent many years as a pastor, and a father, and I've seen many little boys and many little girls. It didn't take long to figure out. But I hoped her secret would stay hidden. For now you really do have a dilemma, don't you?" 

	The captain and the scientist exchanged glances. Each could tell the other fully understood. But for the sake of the mate and the little girl the captain replied, "Yes. It would be intolerable, and possibly dangerous for her, for the whole crew to know. The officers will have to know, but even then I don't think we can simply continue the deception by itself. Human nature can be weak. She will need more protection than just our good will. Even locking her in the brig wouldn't do; we can't be standing guard on her all day and all night. And what would we tell the crew?"

	"Exactly," Reverend ***** said. So let us examine our alternatives. We might consider one of us adopting her...but even that is unsatisfactory. We have no official way of doing it at sea. And even the daughter of the captain would not necessarily be as protected by that status as we could wish. No, there is only one solution, if you truly desire to help her, and protect her." 

	"I do," the captain said, resolutely. The little girl looked up at him with hopeful, shining eyes.

	"Then you must marry her," the scientist intoned. "As your wife, the officers, even in a weak moment, will be forcefully discouraged from misusing her. And they will be glad to help keep up the pretense to the crew."

	The captain looked at little Patience. Her eyes were shining and she could not keep a smile from her lips or keep her head from nodding. From the moment she'd met him she had admired the captain, found him the most wonderful man she had ever met, indeed one of the few decent men she had ever known. The thought of being married to him thrilled her to the core. Unbidden thoughts of him taking her over his knee and spanking her, and...other things, flitted through her mind...

	"Yes...yes, I suppose I knew all along that was the only way. But I must be sure..." He was concerned for the little girl, though not as disturbed as might be thought in latter days; 'age of consent' considerations were nearly unknown in the early 1800's, and marriages of very young children were not at all uncommon.

	He knelt down next to her and whispered in her ear, "If I'm not mistaken, it seems you like this idea, yes?" She nodded enthusiastically. "But little one, do you know what it means, for us to be married?"

	In a low voice she said, "It means you get to put your...your thing inside me. Doesn't it?" The question hung between them, revolving lazily.

	The captain, veteran of frightening naval battles and fierce storms, felt weak, flushed, and dizzy. He hardly expected her to be so...forthright about it. He gulped, and managed to croak, "Yes...yes it does. At first it may be...painful."

	"...I know, but...that's all right. Please, Sir, won't you take me?" she asked so pleadingly, and endearingly. Even if he had not been essentially forced in all honor to do it, he doubted if he could have resisted.

	So it was agreed, and carried out speedily. The officers assembled in the captain's quarters, and the Reverend married them, as the captain could not officiate for himself, after all!

	But how to handle the...consummation? Quietly the captain conferred with the Reverend and the mate. It had to be done, or the marriage would not be legal. They agreed that at the earliest opportunity the 'cabin boy' would be brought to the captain for another round of 'discipline'. That way at least any cries the child might make would be more easily explained...

	The next evening, when two out of the three watches were all ready in their hammocks, the mate made up some pretext. The other officer on watch nodded knowingly, quelling any curiosity from the bosun's mate at the helm, and towed the child to the captain's cabin.

	The mate had told the bosun that for reasons that could not yet be revealed, the captain would continue to handle the discipline of the little 'cabin boy', and would he kindly make another of his 'cats' for the captain's use? So now little Patience entered the cabin to see the captain standing there, holding the 'cat' in his hand. As resolute as he usually was, he seemed...hesitant, unsure. Patience seemed to sense this, and moved close to him, in a manner somehow both timid and...secure. "Excuse me, Sir," she said, "I-I need a-a...a whippin'!"

	The captain looked at her in astonishment, then caught her up in his arms, holding her tightly. "Are you sure?" he whispered in her ear. There was a brief pause, then she nodded almost violently, her head buried against his shoulder.

	"All right, 'lad', it's time for your discipline. Over the cannon with you, and down with your trousers," the captain announced a bit loudly, for the benefit of any eavesdroppers (though in truth the officers had done a good job of diverting and discouraging any attention or suspicion of the anomalous situation). 

	So the little girl was once again draped over the cannon, her little bottom exposed, her legs parted, her anus bared, her unfledged cleft peeping from between her legs. The captain swung the cat, [THWACK-SMACK!] "OOOOH OOO-OOO-OOO!" the little girl cried out as he whipped her again and again, her little bottom reddening. He whipped her buttocks thoroughly, then moved to the backs of her slender thighs as she yelped, faint red lines springing to her pale skin, then swung the cat full upon her anus and cleft, [WHAAPPP!] "AAAAAAAH!" the little girl nearly screamed, her little pelvis rocking convulsively, little drops of moisture gleaming on the lips of her immature vulva. 

	The captain undid the buttons of his trousers, and his rod sprang forth, rampant. All though she seemed to be producing an unusual amount of lubrication for such a young girl, he took no chances, smearing some spit on the end of his member, before poising at the opening of her womb, then thrusting deeply within her from behind, driving powerfully for her cervix, raping her of her maidenhead with one stroke. "AAAAAAAH!" she screamed, as if she had been particularly severely whipped, and, "AH-AH-AH-AH!" she cried out rhythmically with each thrust, as if each one was a stroke from the 'cat'.

	It had been a long time since the captain had had a woman, and the...stimulation was intense. Fortunately little Patience was also highly...stimulated, so they both came after only a dozen or so thrusts, her cries and sobs mixing with his low-pitched grunts and groans, which he tried (only partially successfully) to stifle in case of eavesdroppers. A tiny trickle of blood from the loss of her virginity, mixed with his seed, trickled down her leg.

	He withdrew his member from her, wiped her and himself with a cloth, pulled up his trousers, then swept her up in a hug, holding her still-naked bottom, reveling in the feel of her slender trembling body in his arms. Little Patience was still whimpering, her shoulders shaking with the occasional sob, but she burrowed herself against his chest, clinging tightly, feeling at once both chastened and secure, knowing that she was safe at last in the arms of a man who loved her and cared for her. 

	The rest of the voyage was the most satisfactory the captain had ever had, enjoying immensely the 'services' of his little cabin girl!

	And they lived happily ever after.

	The End

	By cc

	All comments gratefully welcomed!

	
ccccc12345@lavabit.com 

