“With over four hundred men on this ship, I can say with confidence that yours is the smoothest. And the reddest.” He stepped closer and stooped low, crouching behind me. “You’re also the first prisoner I’ve punished who leaked something other than urine down the thighs.”

“Don’t look for lust where none exists,” I said, echoing his words. “It’s an involuntary response to a perfectly delivered spanking.”

He made a sound in his throat, something between a grunt and a snort.

Setting a small jar he’d retrieved from the sleeping chamber beside my hip, he rose to his feet and rested a finger on my tailbone. I shivered as the touch glided downward, following the cleft of my bottom. He didn’t push into the crease, instead keeping the caress agonizing, slow and light as a feather.

“As a liberated woman, I shall presume you’ve had all your territories occupied.” His finger paused directly over my arsehole without sinking between my clenched cheeks. “Tell me, Bennett. Has this domain been pillaged?”

Only a man who was interested in the act would inquire about such a thing. Priest had demanded it dozens of times before he broke down my resolve and introduced me to the sin of Sodom.

To this day, he was the only one who had taken me fore and aft, and he’d done so with a skill that made me crave it relentlessly, thereby damning me for all eternity.

“Yes.” I craned my neck and locked onto hooded blue eyes. “I’ve been plundered forward and backward, with my consent, and only by a libertine who knew what he was doing.”

“Does this libertine have a name?”

“I don’t recall.” I fought the urge to swallow. “How about you?” At his silence, I clarified. “Do you know what you’re doing, Ashley?”

“I should flog you every time you disrespectfully address me without my title. Except you love my punishments.”

“And you love when I call you Ashley.” I squinted. “You’re evading my question.”

His mouth curved up at the corners. It wasn’t a smile, for there were no traces of softness or humor in it. It was the mien of cruelty, and it hit my veins in splinters of ice.

Eyes bolted to mine, he dipped long fingers into the jar and scooped out an oily substance.

Lubrication? To grease a hole I gave him no license to penetrate?

I choked on a spike of fear and pushed up from the table. Until a heavy hand clamped onto my hip, shoving me back down.

“Do. Not. Move.” His lubricated palm went to my thigh, gliding upward, unhesitating along my abused flesh.

Cool, refreshing balm penetrated my searing skin, instantly soothing the pain and perfuming the air with the fragrance of garden herbs.