Spanking the Stowaway [Story heavy with main focus of spanking]

**Daisy** 

My breathing is the loudest thing in the world. If only I could hold my breath forever. The darkness feels like it’s closing in on me and I’m not sure how long I need to stay here.

I had managed to crawl onto the ship in the commotion of on-boarding. I snuck around for a while but once I realised what kind of ship I was on, it was too late. I was hoping to make my way onto a day cruise and hop over to a nearby port to disappear from the local authorities, but luck was not on my side. 

Once it was clear to me I was the only woman on board and these people were shipping some kind of *cargo* I made myself scarce. I found the life rafts and pushed my way underneath. I’ve been hiding here for what feels like hours. I don’t even know how I’m going to get off this ship. And heaven forbid they actually need to use the life rafts. 

All I can do now is pray to the *Gods* that no one will find me before the ship docks. 

\*\*\*

Sunlight blinds me after hours of almost pure darkness. I must have fallen asleep because time lulled through my body like a wave from the ocean. It was dark when I first crawled under the rafts, that’s how I managed to go unnoticed. 

“There’s a woman under here,” a gruff voice calls out. 

“A woman?” another voice in the distance replies. Disbelief is clear through his brutish accent. 

My heart rate quickens as I blink trying to see clearly. By the time my eyes adjust to the new found light I find at least eight men surrounding me. Each one seems to be more uncouth than the last. With their facial piercings, and unclothed bodies covered in tattoos. If I am being honest with myself I am not complaining in the least. 

“What are we going to do with her?” another says. 

“Take her to the captain,” a commanding voice comes from behind the men. 

All eyes leave me and I follow their gaze. Their legs are parted all faced in one direction and no doubt the man I see is the one who spoke. He is rugged but less so than these men as if he hasn’t lived as hard of a life or at least it doesn’t show on his face. 

“Ah Captain, yes we were going to bring her to you,” one man scrambles. Another chimes in a parroting voice and then the next. Parroting and stuttering that they were in fact going to bring me to him. 

The captain her wavy black hair that he has pushed back. His skin is tanned from being on a boat. His shoulders broad and his build muscular, masculine. His voice did something to me before I could even see him. And now that I can see him, well…

“Step aside and let me have a look at our little stowaway.” His voice is so full of command I almost do as he tells me. Instead I hold myself together and look at him with the toughest face I can muster. 

It’s not like he would throw me overboard? Right? 

The captain walks right up to me. His long strides make my heart beat faster and faster. I feel as if it is going to pop out of my chest. 

Standing right in front of me I look up crooning my neck so I can still see him. Anxiety eats me as I wait for his next move when the captain holds his hand out to me. I take it and he helps me up. 

On my feet a strong arm wraps behind my back against my waist. The captain holds me against him as he walks. Maybe so I don’t escape? Maybe because I am unsteady on my feet? 

I’m unsure of his intentions but surely if he was planning on killing me he wouldn’t be so kind to begin with. 

The captain walks me through the ship. I look around at all the details I missed on my way in. It’s a large foreboding presence grips my heart and squeezes it making my nerves flutter. I feel so small here. So helpless. 

Then again that’s how I landed myself as a stowaway. I was helpless and I had to run.  

After my mother died when I turned 18 my stepfather kicked me out of the house. I found myself passed from relative to relative. There weren’t many jobs for a woman like me. The jobs that did exist were hard on the body and harder on the soul. 

I had been subsisting on theft and sleeping in my friend’s spare bedrooms when their husbands were out of town. 

But they’d always come back. 

This morning when I ran onto the ship I had just been caught by some guards stealing food from a local artisan. Usually I’d feel bad but this guy had it coming, he had been rude to me the week before and well food is a necessity regardless of the fact. So who better to steal from than a rich bastard. 

I was caught though, I was sloppy. Soon, I found myself running down to the docks. I grew desperate and hopped on the first ship I could. People were getting on and off and in all the commotion no one even noticed me. By the time I figured the coast would be clear… well, the ship started moving from the port and I was stuck. 

Once I realised I was stuck I also realised this would be an opportunity at a new life. Surely some other place would be better than the hand that was allotted to me. Besides, I couldn’t just sit and suffer when I could do something about it. I heard stories of other lands and towns with more opportunities and I was determined to track them down. 

Soon, the captain is herding me into his quarters like a runaway lamb. I feel so enclosed in the space from the moment we step inside. On one side of the room he has a small bed, we might be able to lay side by side in it if we tried hard. Although, I don’t know why such a thought would even enter my mind as I have just met this man. On the other side of the room is an office space, with a desk and a chair and some cabinets for storage and such. 

He also has a small bar cabinet type area. I guess he is a sailor, what can I expect? 

The captain’s thick fingers were digging into my upper arm and I hadn’t even noticed until he lets go of me. I turn to face him, my day dress was now dirty along the edges and had one rip at the bottom. My sleeves are pushed up and my lacing looks crooked. He stares me up and down like I am a piece of damn meat. I want to stomp my foot and tell him what is what. But I am on his territory. 

I swallow some of my fear down in a large gulp. 

I was desperate when I got on the ship and now I am going to find out where my desperation is going to take me. 

The captain shuts the door behind us. As he walks toward me I shuffle back and soon I’m in the centre of the room. He circles me like a shark circling his prey. I hold my clenched hands to my chest, trying to soothe myself of some anxiety. 

“What do you have to say for yourself, stowaway?” the captain asks me in an even tone. His voice is deep and steady, it’s round at the edges and captures all of my attention. 

“I am so very sorry, Sir,” I reply. 

“Why in the world would you, a tiny little breakable thing like you, think it is a good idea to hop onto a random ship? Where are you even hoping to go?” 

His chastising tone was making the breath in my lungs feel thin. Similar to when I climbed up to the top of Mount Eliana as a child. It is not a high mountain but I could see the whole village from up there like a God. It could be trekked in a day but once you were at the top the air was not as good. 

“It was an accident, I didn’t mean to get on board, it sort of just happened. Then, the world started moving under me and I realised I couldn’t get off.”

The captain stops in front of me. He approaches me so we are mere inches apart. He is so tall I have to crane my head so I am looking right up at him. His eyebrows are raised just slightly like he has caught a whiff and is going in for the kill. 

“How did it sort of just happen, stowaway? Who are you anyway?” 

“I am no one. I can’t tell you what led up to the events of me being here but you should know it was an accident. Just drop me off at whatever your next port is and I will be on my merry way. Look, I won’t even eat any of your food. I have some of my own. All I need is a little bit of water, maybe not even that,” I say, scrambling. 

The captain crosses his arms over his chest but then he just chuckles. “Show me the food.” 

I pull out the two rolls of bread from one deep pocket and the three miniature jam jars from the other. It should suffice for a few days. I will be hungry but I will not die. And besides, I had a large breakfast in the morning so if I saved everything for tomorrow I’d get at least another day out of my rations. 

“We won’t be landing in another port for two more weeks. I don’t think that will suffice,” he replies. 

Nerves lash at me like the cracking of a whip. What am I going to do for two whole weeks here? Or more importantly, what will they do to me? I chew on my bottom lip. The captain continues looking at me with those hard blue eyes. He is taking my breath away and leaving me a speechless mess in the middle of his cabin. I feel like I am going to melt into a puddle. 

“So what happens to me then?” I asked when the silence finally got to me. 

“You,” he ground the word out like it was a curse. “I don’t know what I am going to do with you yet.” 

“Can’t you just put me on a life raft and let me get myself to the nearest coast? You know, you don’t have to kill me. I really, I didn’t mean to get myself into this mess…Sir. I just–” I can’t help but ramble. My nerves are getting the best of me. And, I guess a small part of me figures that if I can just keep talking it will stall the inevitable. I know what usually happens to people who are stowaways, but I’m not a real stowaway. 

“So, you do know what happens to stowaways,” the Captain replies. His tone is almost teasing, like he is making fun of me for being in this predicament. The pressure is building inside my body and I can just feel the fact that I am going to be biting back tears soon enough. That is the last thing I want to happen. Crying all the way to my death. God, how did I get myself here? 

In all my destitute moments, I had never felt as pathetic as I did in this moment. 

“Please don’t kill me… I’ll get off right now, or if the ship goes anywhere near the shore perhaps, I could just get off and swim,” I blubber. My words are starting to feel jumbled in my mouth. 

“I’ve never killed a woman before and I’m not about to start,” the captain then says. I can’t help the sigh of relief that washes over me. 

“So I’m free to go?” 

“No, I’m still going to have to find a suitable punishment for you,” he says. His eyes darken, if that is even possible. I take a step back, my instincts getting the better of me, but the captain just takes a step forward. 

“What’s your name?” I ask, blinking at him. 

“Sylus, but around my men you will call me Captain. Is that understood?” Sylus barks down at me. 

“So, when we are in private I can call you by your name?” I reply, breathy. 

He nods. Sylus then grabs a lock of my hair. In the commotion of everything it has come loose from its updo and is falling down the length of my back in wild curls of burnt umber and deep gold. I had always had deep red brown hair but it would lighten in random strands from spending a lot of time in the sun. 

He twirls my hair around his finger before moving impossibly close to me. 

“It seems like you don’t know how to follow any rules. I can see the defiance in your eyes,” Sylus then says. I blink at him. What could he possibly mean by that?

“I can respect authority…” 

It sounds like a lie even coming from my own mouth. I’d never been one to follow any rule I thought was stupid. 

“You won’t even tell me what you did, or what happened, to lead you here. And as far as your concerned, on this ship, I am your God. I am the arbiter of what happens to you. Yet, you won’t even say the truth,” Sylus tells me. 

“You said you wouldn’t kill me,” I reply. 

“No, but I can throw you out to my men. I can shove you out that door and let you survive as a member of the crew. Some of these men haven’t seen a woman for months, we were only in port for a mere few hours to pick up some goods and supplies…” 

I don’t like the implications he is making. I screw my face up in disgust. My heavy breathing is making my chest heave and my breasts fight against the tight lacings of my dress. Sylas’s eyes go straight to my unintentional cleavage. 

“What’s your name stowaway? Or are you going to hide that from me as well?” 

“No, I can tell you that,” I bite back. I can’t help it, this man is making me feel heated. My cheeks are flushed, my heart rate is rising. 

Sylas raises a brow. 

“Daisy,” I tell him. “My name is Daisy.” 

“Like the flower?” He replies with a chuckle. 

“I guess so…” 

“Now, are you going to tell me how you managed to get yourself into this situation?” Sylas’s voice is all deep and gravelly. It rumbles through me and I feel compelled to tell the truth. Since I was cast out, telling the truth was something I seldom did. Instead I told a version of the truth that would get me where I needed to be. 

“If I have to…” I trail off. 

Sylas seems unimpressed. He wraps one large hand around the soft flesh of my upper arm. I squirm in his grip as he pulls me along, through his chambers. Soon, we reach his bed and he forces me down onto it. He stands above me all large and brooding, making me squirm in my seat. 

“I think you have never been told what to do a day in your life. I think that’s all about to change now,” Sylas begins to speak. I look at him with furrowed brows, a puzzled look painted across my features. 

“No offence…Captain, but I have no idea what you’re going on about,” I reply. 

Sylas gives me a deep dark chuckle. His eyes flash with something I can’t quite identify. 

“Let's get one thing straight, I’m in charge. Not only of the crew but of you. But, since I can’t punish you in the same way, I will punish you in my own ways for your defiance,” he says. 

I don’t know what that means but it sends a shiver up my spine. 

“How?” 

“I’ll turn you over my knee and turn that pretty skin bright red, you understand me?” 

My breath catches in my throat. What in the world? Who even does that? To a grown woman no less. I put my hands up in a defencive position. 

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” I say. 

“Not yet…” 

“No, no, you can’t spank me,” I hiss. “That’s obscene.” 

“It will be obscene. I’ll turn your skirts up and expose you before landing my hands all over your skin. I would never violate a lady like that, Daisy. But you’re no lady, you’re a bratty little stowaway who needs to learn how to behave.” 

All I can do is pout. 

“I can behave… What do you need from me? You know, so I can avoid a spanking.” 

“I can’t make any sort of guarantees. But, lets start with how you got here.” 

I nod slowly, trying to pick my next words very carefully. 

“I have not had a real home in a very long time,” I begin. Maybe if he feels bad for me he won’t give me into the authorities at the next port. 

“So you thought you could live here?” 

“No!” I bite back. Sylas has a look on his face that tells me he knew that. He was just trying to make me jump and squirm. 

He doesn’t reply to that but gestures for me to continue. 

“I am trying to explain the circumstances that led up to the incident…” I explain. 

“Go on then, stowaway.” 

“You know my name,” I snap, glaring at him. 

Sylas clutches the waistband of his pants and I notice he has a belt. He is thumbing over the leather. Is he thinking about using that on me? If he was he is an absolute brute, but what can I expect from someone like him. 

“I can and will call you whatever I want. You’re lucky I’m not addressing you as wench.” 

I can’t help but gasp at his vulgarity. 

Sylas chuckles at my shock and horror. 

“Tell me the rest of the story. You are procrastinating and my hand is getting itchy.” 

“I am not procrastinating. You have distracted me. Now, where was I,” I sigh. 

Sylas doesn’t say a thing so I am forced to just continue on. 

“Left destitute, I have not been the most honest citizen. I… I stole. I stole from a man, the food that is in my pockets. And I was running from the authorities when I ran onto your boat. I was only going to hide here for a little bit then get off…” 

“But we pulled out of the port,” Sylas finishes it off for me.

“Yes,” I sigh. 

His eyes soften for a moment as he looks down at me. I wring my hands together in my lap. 

I am not so much scared of what Sylas might do to me. But recounting my circumstances puts a damper on things. A deep melancholy washes through me just thinking about how I have no place to call my own, no where to even store my few possessions. 

“You stole from a man?”

“Yes…” 

“You needed the food?” 

“I’d starve otherwise,” I reply. Sylas is still standing above me, staring down at me like he is a God or something. I feel squirmy in my seat like his eyes are lighting me on fire or something. 

“So, who’d you steal from?” 

“You wouldn’t know him.” 

“Humour me, Daisy,” he practically purs. 

Mr Anachrid pops into my mind. That nasty old man. I can’t help but make a face as I think of him. 

“An artisan, he sells a variety of upper end food products, from the best breads to the best jams…” I explain. “His name is Mr Anachrid, I’m not sure about his first name,” I admit. 

It almost feels good to be truthful. Almost. 

Sylas snorts. “So, you went out of your way to steal the most expensive food, not merely food?” 

“No. I stole from Mr. Anachrid because he is a right fucking bastard! He called the authorities on me the week before for merely standing near his store. I was just taking a small break on my journey. As far as I am concerned that’s what he gets. He’s lucky I didn’t take more,” I seethe. Anger flows through me now, I can’t even help it. I have been angry about what happened since last week and I have been stewing on it ever since. 

“You do need your rear worn out— not because he didn’t deserve it but because your anger issues are going to land you in a lot of trouble. It seems they already have.” 

I stand up, indigent. The words all dissipate on my tongue as soon as I see the look in Sylas’s eye. He grabs my upper arm and then sits on the bed before pulling me over his lap. 

An ear piercing scream escapes me like a shrieking siren call. The whole ship heard me, that I am certain of. 

Air blows against the skin of my bare rear, and worse so, my pussy. He has my skirts over my head with my drawers split open. His large warm hand is groping my ass. I feel so obscene. 

Without a warning, Sylas spanks me. A hard crack of his hand against my rear that makes me scream bloody murder. His hand was like a wooden paddle, how did it feel so painful against my skin?

“What’re you doing?” I shriek. 

“What does it look like I am doing?” He replies, cracking that wooden palm against my skin once again.  

“Please,” I beg. I don’t know what comes over me, I would usually never stoop to such a level. 

Sylas ignores my pleas and goes back to his job at hand. He smacks me again and again— all over my ass. He moves from one cheek to the next, to the middle, in no particular fashion. I have no idea where he is going to strike next. 

I start kicking my legs trying to throw him off balance but it only seems to aggravate him. I can feel something rumbling through his chest. He pulls me back and hooks his leg over mine, pinning me in place. 

With my legs immobilised I try to lift myself up from the front. It is no use though as soon as I move my arms from the bed I seem to lose balance. 

I am at his mercy. 

Sylas hits the bottom curvature of my asscheeks in quick succession. He goes from one to the next. The pain is starting to get to my head. I grip the bed sheets until my knuckles turn white. My mind is all fuzz trying to block out the pain Sylas is inflicting upon me.

“Sylas,” I cry out, my voice cracking now. I am not sure if I can take much more. 

Sylas stops smacking me and rubs soothing circles over my asscheeks. 

“Do you understand why I am punishing you?” He asks. 

“Because I am a stowaway,” I reply with a sniffle. 

“No, try again.” 

“Because I stole?” 

“Close, but no. Think, before I start again and then you lose your chance until I am feeling kind enough to stop,” Sylas rumbles. 

“Um…” I try to rack my mind for what we discussed earlier.  

He did say it was all down to my anger issues landing me here. That they would lead me to trouble. 

“For acting out on my anger?” I say it like it was a question. 

“Yes. You could have sourced food some other way, a smarter way. You got caught because you were acting out of spite rather than wit. I won’t fault you for stealing bread when you have no home but you acted rash and now look where you are, over my knee.” 

“Yes,” I reply, squirming. “But, you can let me up. No one is forcing you to spank me.” 

I hiss as he spanks me once, hard in the centre of my ass. The hardest slap yet. 

“That’s not the point. Imagine if the authorities caught you. Imagine if the shop owner himself did. Imagine someone more dangerous angered you and you did something rash and ended up dead. For that, you need a thrashing. You are a danger to yourself,” he chastises. 

I put my hands over my burning face. Being told off like this was not on my to do list this morning. The worst part is he isn’t even wrong. This spanking is the least of my worries. Other people would have killed me by now. I could have stolen food from an open air stall where it is much easier. Or gone foraging in the forest. It is difficult but there are ways to eat for a woman like me. I did that out of pure rage and indignation. 

“Are you going to say anything?” 

“I don’t know what to say,” I reply from beneath my hands. 

“Have you learnt your lesson?” 

I don’t know, had I? The sting of a spanking was not something I had ever felt before in my life. The strangest part was that as he was rubbing my ass, strange tingling sensations bloomed throughout my lower half.

“I guess I will think twice next time,” I say, mostly to placate him. Hopefully he will allow me to stand if that’s what I have to say. 

“You will. If I catch you on my ship, acting like a little tyrant. I’ll treat you like one.” 

A shiver goes down my spine. My head is spinning. He has complete control of me and my body. The feeling is foreign, like nothing I have ever felt before. 

“I won’t. I wouldn’t think of doing anything like that here.” 

Now that is the truth. I just want to get off in one piece without a scorching ass. 

“I believe you.” 

Sylas moves his fingers and then dips them down against my most sensitive parts. I gasp at the contact. I can not believe he is touching me there. I have never been touched there before. I writhe in his grip, his fingers are merely dancing over my sensitive folds. 

“You are so wet,” he tells me. 

“So?” 

“So, that means you enjoyed the spanking. My little wench.” 

Eyes wide, terror flows through me. That can not be true. 

“I didn’t,” I defend myself. 

Sylas moves his fingers up and down my slit and I can hear how wet I am. I moan against his touch, I can’t help it. He gives me a dark chuckle, it rumbles through his chest. With his other hand he grabs me by the hair. 

“I think I’m going to like having you around,” he says. 

“I thought you would let me off at the next port… or let me swim to shore once it comes into eyesight. You know, I am a good swimmer.” 

“I don’t know if you can take care of yourself. I’m basically doing a community service by keeping you— keeping you out of trouble as well.” 

The idea slips into my mind for mere seconds and it sounds like bliss. All my meals given to me, a warm bed, and Sylas is not bad looking at all. In fact, he is quite handsome and strong. Moreover, he clearly has some sort of effect on my body. I should give into him, I should just agree, but that’s not in my nature. 

“I don’t need to be kept out of trouble,” I argue. 

“You’re a mischievous little wench, I think you do.” 

I don’t reply to that, I just sit there and let Sylas do whatever it is he wants to do. 

\*\*\* 

Sylas continues dipping his fingers in and out of my most sensitive place. He does this for a few minutes and arousal starts welling up inside me. It’s not something I have quite experienced to this extent before. It’s like a tingling that begins in my pussy, then spreads through my body. It feels like the way lightning looks when it spreads through the night sky. All I can do is sit and squirm and let Sylas do as he pleases. My eyes roll into the back of my head, I am putty in his hands. 

A harsh pressure starts to build inside me. I feel like I need to scream, but this time for much different reasons. I stifle the sounds that threaten to escape. 

“You’re so aroused by my brutal treatment of you. I think you’re enjoying it deep down. I think this is what you have always needed. A man to keep you in your place. Someone to make sure you don’t act out all that anger and sadness you have deep inside you,” Sylas says. 

Why is he saying these things to me? They feel truthful even though he could not know anything like that for certain. He has only known me a few hours now. 

“I— I want to go home,” I say, stifling a gasp as he presses two fingers deep inside me. He touches something that makes me almost unravel in his hands. 

“You don’t have a home,” he replies. 

It’s true I don’t but the feeling still lingers deep inside me. I yearn for somewhere to call my own. But it is nearly impossible to find that. I could buy a home or rent a room but I have no skills to make money and I have no means of gaining skills. I am somewhat useless due to my upbringing. I never thought seriously of gaining skills to gain employment, I was merely living one day to the next as soon as I was out on my own. 

I allow my body to lull into the pleasurable rhythm Sylas is thrusting upon me. He reaches beneath me and finds my sensitive nub. I cry out in pleasure. He circles it, again and again. I am putty in his hands. He continues his tirade as I let go, I let go trying to stay quiet, I let go of my pleasure, I am in bliss. 

Pleasure bursts through me like a crack of thunder. Suddenly. It rocks my body and I push myself back into Sylas’s grip. I grip the sheets with all my strength. My eyes roll round my head like marbles. 

“Fuck,” I gasp. 

Sylas removes his hand from my sensitive pussy. I sigh in a sort of relief. I hope that is not the last time he plays me like an instrument— even if it means I must receive a spanking. 

“Dirty little mouth,” he grunts, spanking my tender spot. I cry out mostly in shock. Who spanks a woman there? That is vulgar and unheard of. 

I lay there panting. Sylas pulls my skirts back down and then lifts me up off his lap and sits me on the bed. 

We stare at each other for a few moments. I can already feel the fact we have a long road ahead of us.