Chapter 5: The Ship’s Hold

I must have passed out at some point because it is much darker when I regain consciousness. My cage has been moved into the ship’s hold, and all I can see is a wooden bulkhead. I try to turn but I soon give up on such a futile exercise. The rolling motion of the ship confirms we are still at sea. I can’t hear the sounds of the crew, but that doesn’t mean anything. I try to avoid gagging on the stench inside my prison. The remnants of Drax’s cum that he spilt onto my face mixes with the putrid smell of the ship’s hold. I doubt the hold has been cleaned in years. It’s overpowering my sense of smell.

I try moving my hands. The cage permits me some movement, but only enough to ease a sore muscle or to move the heavy chain resting on my torso. My limbs protest at any form of movement, but I suppress my cry of pain. I try to explore my prison. I need to see if there’s any way to freedom.

It’s a forlorn hope. Alejo and Drax have had a year to prepare for this event. Neither of them would be so careless as to leave any weakness that I could exploit. I lift my hands as far as I can reach and feel around the collar. I try to work out how the collar is fastened, but it may as well be welded for all I can discover. I explore the sides and floor of my cage. I can’t find anything to offer me hope. Unable to lift my spirits, I drift off into a restless slumber.

A spray of warm smelly piss over my face and body wakes me some time later. I instinctively turn my head away. Whoever is here is enjoying the scene because I can hear a low chuckle.

“Are you comfortable, whore,” laughs Drax. “Make the most of your rest. It’ll be the last one you’ll get for a very long time.”

I resist the temptation to tell Drax what I think of him. Speaking will be a form of submission, and I must hold out for as long as I can.

Ironically, my capture means that I’ll live a while longer. Alejo isn’t the only person who has been plotting my downfall. My uncle wanted to permanently remove any threat to his rule that my claim on the Cambris throne presented. And the Duke of Quenier was far from happy that I escaped from his clutches, particularly when he realised that his slave was of royal blood. The premium he could have charged his clients to fuck royalty would have been substantial. But it isn’t the loss of income that is motivating him. His slave brothels have a reputation for being escapeproof; something which I proved to be false with remarkable ease. Encouraged by my uncle, the law courts in Cambris have been considering the Duke’s claim of ownership of me, which fitted in nicely with my uncle’s plan to be rid of me. But my uncle’s death, and my surrender to Alejo, will put all that on hold. Alejo is unlikely to recognise the Duke’s claim over me, but it is an added complication to the mix.

Drax doesn’t linger in the hold. Since he can’t fuck me, he must gain his pleasure from humiliating me. Given the chance he’d like to torment me with the studs in my collar. But my cage deprives him of that opportunity, as much as it deprives him of the ability to fuck me. I’m left alone to my own thoughts.

I can hear my next visitor approaching from the sound of chains being dragged across the floor. A prisoner of some sort, or is there another reason for the chains? A hatch in the top of my cage opens but I can’t turn to see who has arrived. A piece of bread is tossed into my prison, landing on my lap. I quickly move my hands to catch it, but fumble as my heavy chains hinder my movement. The hatch closes immediately and the sound of shuffling feet dragging a chain recedes. I feel around for the bread, and finally locate it soaked in a puddle of Drax’s piss. I’m too hungry to bother with the state of my food, and I devour the bread before my mind persuades me otherwise.