Chapter 6

The polished wood of the Captain’s desk was firm but still warm from Riley’s heat. Thomas lay back, his body still humming from their shared exertion, a pleasant soreness settling into his muscles. The two women moved around him with a practiced, predatory grace. Riley’s fingers, calloused from rope and rigging, expertly looped a length of coarse hemp around his wrists, pulling the knot taut.

He tested the bond. It was firm, unyielding. A flicker of unease stirred in his gut.

"This is for your own good, I promise." The Captain’s voice was a low, soothing murmur from somewhere in the room’s periphery, a stark contrast to the commanding tone she’d used moments before. It did little to calm the sudden, racing beat of his heart.

His eyes scanned the dim cabin, chasing her shadow. A small bottle gleamed, no doubt some special concoction to prevent his seed from seeding. Then something else. A glint of firelight caught on metal in the darkness near the great mahogany wardrobe. Something sharp. Something meant to cut. Or to carve.

His body recoiled instinctively, his shoulders pressing into the desk. The heady, sated warmth that had filled him evaporated, replaced by a cold dread that tightened his throat. Had it all been a cruel game? Was he just a plaything, to be used for their amusement and then discarded over the rail like so much garbage? The thought was a physical blow, and he sank into the wood beneath him, the weight of his naivety crushing.

A chuckle, soft and deeply amused, echoed from the shadows. Riley ran her hand through his sweaty hair. "Relax, we're not going to kill you, Thomas."

From the shadows the Captain stepped into the circle of lantern light, the object in her hand now clearly visible: a long, slender branding iron, its tip cooled to a dull grey. Her grin was a slash of white in the cabin’s gloom. She moved closer, the iron held loosely at her side. "But if you're going to stay, you have to do this. Understand that with every pleasure you take from this world, there is always a cost. This… is yours."

Before he could form a question, Riley stepped in front of him. She turned her back, presenting the powerful, sun-kissed canvas of her shoulders and back to him. And there it was, the same “A” that the Captain bore. A mark he hadn’t noticed in the frenzied intimacy before. A scar, old and silvery, stamped into the flesh of her left shoulder blade. It wasn't a random design; it was a symbol, a simple letter that carried great meaning. A mark of ownership, of belonging. She looked at him over her shoulder, her expression not one of shame, but of fierce, unadulterated pride.

"Are you ready?" the Captain asked, her voice dropping to a whisper that was both a question and a command.

Thomas’s eyes darted from Riley to the calculated, assessing gaze of the Captain. His fear didn't vanish, but it was suddenly dwarfed by something greater, something that had driven him to this ship in the first place: a desperate, clawing need to belong. To be part of something real, something wild and true. “Let’s do this.” Thomas released a decision made in the space between one heartbeat and the next. He embraced the thought of the pain, accepted it as the price of the pleasure, the key to the life he craved.

The two women moved to either side of the desk. Riley’s strong hands came down on his free shoulders, pinning him gently but absolutely. The Captain moved to his right, her hip brushing against his side. Their scents lingering, a reminder of the transcendent pleasure he had just experienced.

He closed his eyes, focusing on that memory, letting it fill him. The Captain’s weight atop him, Riley’s mouth on his skin, the shuddering, shared release. He let it all wash over him, a shield against what was to come.

The touch of the cold iron on his skin was a shock, a stark contrast to the warmth of their hands. He flinched, unable to comprehend the true heat burning into his skin. The Captain’s hold on the instrument was steady. The sizzle was soft at first, a faint hiss that seemed to suck the air from the room. Then the pain came, not as a sharp slice, but as a deep, building burn, a brand of pure, concentrated fire searing into his flesh. He didn't fight it. He rode the wave of agony, his mind clinging to the memory of their bodies, their touch, the whispered welcome.

And then, as suddenly as it began, it was over. The iron was lifted away. The acute, blazing pain ebbed, leaving behind a throbbing, fiery ache that felt… permanent.

The pressure on his shoulders vanished. He opened his eyes, oxygen returning to his lungs. Riley and the Captain stood on either side of the desk, looking down at him. They were both naked, powerful, and utterly free. Their grins were identical; triumphant, possessive, and blazing with a fierce, shared joy.

The Captain reached out and sliced through the rope at his wrists with a small knife he hadn't seen her draw. Her grey eyes held his, no longer cold, but burning with a new, acknowledged fire.

"You're one of us now, Thomas," she said, her voice ringing with finality. "You're a pirate of the Abyss."

Riley’s smile widened, her eyes sparkling with a dark promise.

We hope you enjoyed episode two. For the complete, unfiltered version of this chapter and early access to upcoming releases, join us on Substack. Subscribers stay two weeks ahead and gain access to exclusive art, commentary, and the full version of the scene as it was written.