Was reading through some old letters from the colonization of the New World by Spain and found this one. Thought I would write a story on it.
While i was in the boat, I captured a very beautiful Carib woman, whom the said Lord Admiral gave to me. When I had taken her to my cabin she was naked – as was their custom. I was filled with a desire to take my pleasure with her and attempted to satisfy my desire. She was unwilling, and so treated me with her nails that I wished I had never begun. But – to make a long story short – I then took a piece of rope and whipped her soundly, and she let forth such incredible screams that you would not have believed your ears. Eventually we came to such terms, I assure you, that you would have thought she had been brought up in a school for whores.
(It's not based completely off of this, but it is what gave the idea for this story.)
This story will be dark and have strong sexual themes. I have seen some pretty graphic material on here so hopefully it won't be deleted.
Warnings: Rape and Racism involved. This is the colonization we are talking about.
Girardino da Parma stood approached the captain on the deck as he was watching over the new native captives. The woman he taken from the water was behind him, her long black hair still wet from her ill conceived escape attempt. Men leered at her naked body, coated with the droplets of water that made her brown skin glow. When the captain finally turned toward Girardino the Venetian soldier inclined his head slightly and waited to be addressed. The captain spoke to him, congratulated him on the days fight, and then asked him what it was he needed.
Girardino spoke simply and politely, as the captain liked, asking if he would be allowed to keep the girl he had just fished from the water. The captain looked past the Venetian to the Indian girl, a small smile coming to his lips. He nodded patted Girardino on the shoulder and verbalized his assent. Girardino thanked him, ordered one of the sailors to take the girl to his cabin, and went on about his day. It was a long day pull of sailing from island to island, searching for inhabitants.
Many came aboard willingly, those who had been captured by the different tribes, and more than one willingly disappeared under decks with a sailor for a few unexplained moment. It did nothing but arouse Girardino's excitement. It took everything in him not to simply go to his cabin now and enjoy the body of the beautiful woman he had taken. The day seemed to stretch abominably long, but once he was able to return to his cabin he was elated. His body ached from the long voyages and fighting and searching. Now to return to a little succor was heavenly.
He silently thanked God for the gifts that had been bestowed upon him and stepped into his cabin. At first he thought there had been some sort of mistake, for she was nowhere in sight. He checked behind the curtains and his desk. He would have gone to find the soldier he had left her with had he not heard a very quiet "oof" from underneath his bed. When he leaned down, he found her crammed underneath, in the tiniest of places between where it was nailed to the floor.
"Come out now," he said softly and reached for her. She kicked at him, trying to press herself further underneath the bed. Girardino sighed, and continued his attempt of coaxing her gently from underneath he bed. When he figured that would not work, he reached out and grabbed onto her ankles, dragging her out violently. She hit one of the posts that fastened the bed in place, and when she was ripped from her hiding spot he could see a small welt that had been left behind.
She squirmed against him as he lifted her up, but stopped when he tossed her on the bed with a shout. She stilled, fell silent, and gazed up at him with wide eyes. He looked at her a few moments, catching his breath from her display. When he did he felt his loins tighten and his desire grow. She was on her back, holding herself up with her arms behind her, looking up at him in anger and fear.
He moved toward her, hoping to touch her body, feel her soft breasts underneath his hand, but she reacted swiftly. Before his hand could land on her brown skin she swung her thin leg, smacking his hands out of the way, and ran for the door. She made it to the door, and had her hand on the handle when he grabbed her from behind, his arms looped around her. He heaved her over to the bed once again and pinned her down on her back. His loins were on fire and he could think of nothing else but enjoying himself with this woman.
His mouth landed on hers and his throbbing erection pressed into her center through his breeches. He was about to let out a moan when he felt a piercing pain in his lip. He tried to pull away, but her teeth still held his lip hostage, and for a horrifying moment he feared she was going to bite his lip off. Finally she let go and Girardino staggered back, holding his lip. Blood came away on his hand and he could feel the gauge she had left. His blood was smeared over her lips.
She tried to squirm away once again but he reacted too quickly. His anger flared and he grabbed her by the hair, dragging her over to his desk. He found some rope, which he used to secure her wrists to the back of his desk.
"Bite me, you savage bitch," he said as he grabbed a piece of broken wood that resembled a cane that was close on hand. It had been part of a device sailors use to catch comrades who fall into the sea in open water, but had snapped two weeks ago. Girardino had been responsible for mending it. But now it had a new use.
He swung it down on her bottom, earning a shriek of pain. He swung it again, bruising her smooth skin with each blow. He slowed down as her struggles ceased, and the room was instead filled with her soft weeping. Her small feminine body was marked, but not beyond repair, and he tossed the cane to the side with a huff. With her more compliant he reached into his breeches and pulled forth his erection.
He grabbed her hips, positioned her, and thrust into her with a moan of ecstasy. He ignored the crying of the girl beneath him. It was brief, fast, and animalistic. It would be hard to see who was the savage and who was not if you were to have viewed the coupling. His hands held a bruising grip of her hips, and he thrusted into her with brutally. Her entire body shook as he finished, spilling his seed inside of her. He pulled out of her without ceremony, and abruptly left the room.
She could feel his seed and her blood oozing down her inner thigh, the pain on her back, and tears leaked from her eyes. She was almost certain that when he returned, it would be with other men, and she could hardly contain her weeping. Her thighs trembled and she tried to pull out of her binds, but he had tied them too strong. When the door did creak open she debated with herself whether to fight again or take a rest. Never would she submit permanently to these strange new people, but it would be necessary to build up her strength in order to escape. And to be honest, she was in too much pain. She heard the man's footsteps behind her and screwed her eyes shut. She could only be thankful he was alone.
Girardino finally walked back around her and untied her wrists, which were scraped raw from her squirming.
"Lay on the bed," he said and she looked up at him with no comprehension on her face. Her eyes were wet, her face crumpled in defeat and pain, and he could see the blood that had smeared over her inner thighs. He felt a twinge of regret, but shook it off when he felt the stinging of his lip. "Come on then, girl."
He leaned down and lifted her into his arms, which was easy considering how small she was, and laid her on the bed. He had her turn onto her stomach and she waited once again to be violated. Amazingly enough it did not come. Instead she heard him moving behind her, the sound of water splashing, and then a cool rag was pressed to the welts on her back.
At first there was only more stinging, but soon the stinging subsided, and it was replaced with a dull throb. He gently dabbed these wounds for a little while, being gentle and only causing a few short moments of surprised pain. He wiped off her inner thighs as well, before having her sit up on the bed. She crossed her legs, and while she felt violated by this man, made no move to cover herself. It never crossed her mind that her nudity was in anyway inappropriate or strange to these foreign people.
"Girardino," he said touching his chest. She frowned at him. "My name is Girardino."
She looked at him, knew he was speaking to her, but was at a loss. He jabbed his finger into his chest a few times.
"Girardino," he said again, jabbing his chest. She eventually caught on, but said nothing to him, remaining quiet. His jaw clenched and she feared he would beat her again. She flinched as he moved but relaxed when she realized he was just moving over to his desk. She watched him for a long time, a sort of suspicious anger on her face. He was scribbling something down with a pen, and did not notice as she slowly moved off of the bed. She walked to the side, trying to get a better look at his face. She made no attempt to run, the pain in her back and legs was too strong, and instead settled on studying her captor.
He noticed her as she came to stand beside him, some feet away. Their eyes locked as he turned to look at her and he stopped his journal entry. Her eyes were dark, her nose small, and her skin a beautiful golden brown. He crooked a finger at her but she did not move toward him. Her brow wrinkled as her eyebrows crunched together. She shook her head at him silently.
He took a piece of paper from his desk and drew a crude figure of a man and a woman. She could tell it was supposed to be him and her, and he scribbled letters down over the man.
"Girardino," he said pointed to the symbols and the man. He held the pen out to her. She paused a moment, but when he did not lower his hand she snatched the pen from him and moved back. When he made no move to beat her she grabbed the paper and once again darted away from him. She did not know what he wanted her to do with it and so she drew a picture of a bird and the sun over her face before giving them back. A frown settled over his face. He looked at her. He pointed at her, and pointed to his lips.
"Chic'ya," she said and placed her hand on her chest then pointed to him and spoke in her own tongue. "Devil."
He frowned, not understanding.
"You," he pointed at her. "Mine. You are mine."
She narrowed her eyes at him. She glanced at the door and then tilted her head at him. He tried to communicate with her some more, but finding it impossible, turned back to his writing. He could feel the girl watching him, anger and hatred in her eyes, but ignored her. She would come to terms with her new situation in time, and when they began building houses she would see her new place.
He left to get dinner, locking the door securely behind, and returned with enough for her to eat. She was small, and did not think she would require a lot, but when he saw her snatch the bread from him and devour it, he realized she was hungrier than he had thought. She remained in the corner as he gave her more of his salted fish. She took it, her eyes never leaving him as she ate.
Getting her into bed that night was another struggle. She kicked, and punched, pulled his hair and spit. He gave her another sound whipping before taking his pleasure and once again she was left sobbing. She crawled out of bed at some point during the night, tried to get out of the cabin but failed, and was found by Girardino curled up in the corner the next morning. It appeared she had tried to get herself behind his wardrobe, but it was too close to the wall and impossible to move for that.
He placed a blanket over her before leaving for the day, and when he returned that evening he once again had to search for her. There was an empty food tray on the floor, so he knew she had eaten her lunch, but had quickly gone back into hiding.
"You know I will find you," he said as he looked in her normal hiding spots. "Why go through the trouble?"
He pulled her from under the bed, and she once again began to kick and scream. He tried to tell her he was not going to touch her but she did not understand, and by the end of the scuffle, in which the girl ended up hog tied and face down on the bed, he had a broken nose and a chuck of hair ripped from his scalp.
"I have to capture the fucking psychotic one," he murmured to himself as he massaged the bridge of his nose. His friends would surely have a laugh about this one. He had gotten enough trouble over his swollen lips, now he had a swollen nose and two black eyes to match.
"For such a tiny thing you sure pack a punch," he said and stroked her black hair. She tried to shy away by was incapable. He kneeled down in front of the bed, so they were at eye level with each other. "How old are you, hmm? Fifteen, sixteen?"
They were rhetorical questions, ones she did not attempt to answer.
"If I didn't think you'd bite, I'd have great use of that mouth," he said trailing his thumb over her lips. "Oh well."
He moved away from her and left the cabin, not bothering to lock the door with her tied in such a way. He was going to collect their dinner when he was stopped and informed the Admiral had asked him to go to shore with one of the docking parties and search for a good settlement spot before nightfall. He reluctantly obeyed, and decided he had the rest of his life with his Indian girl.
When the doors creaked open she was Chic'ya was sure it was her captor, and so she kept her tear stained face down on the pillows. But when a hand touched her bottom, and then another, and another, she realized something was wrong. She heard crude laughter, and when she looked up three sailors were in the room with her. She wasted no time in screaming, and receiving a brutal blow to the face. It was like nothing Girardino had done, and she saw stars. Her lips split open, blood spraying onto the pillows, but still she fought. She could handle one, but not three.
They could not get her legs spread wide enough, and so they cut through the ropes, not knowing the mistake they made. Her foot flailed out, hitting one in the nose. She sat up, darting between them, and almost made it to the unlocked door when she was grabbed and thrown to the ground. They were speaking to each other, snarling at her and laughing to each other. She received a blow to her stomach, so hard that she almost through up, and indeed would have if something had been in her stomach. She tried to regain her breath, which had been stolen from her body when her hair was yanked. She continued to scream for help one her air returned to her, but it was no use. No one would come. Not for an Indian girl.
She was slapped a few more times, her hair pulled, and she was vaguely away, in her delirium, of one of them spitting in her face. The smell was foul, but the whole world spun. She could hardly move. She was saved in the last possible moment by a lieutenant passing by and hearing the vicious struggle. He knew that Girardino had gone out to scout, and that he was unlikely to give anyone permission to touch his prize. When he opened the door, and saw the young girl a bloody mess on the ground he shouted to the sailors and they ceased their movements. He ordered them all up on deck and told them they would be punished severely for damaging another man's property later.
He tried to check on the girl, but she slinked under the bed and he could not get to her. He informed Girardino of the attack when he returned to the ship, and was not even able to tell him of the men's subsequent punishment when he went running to his cabin. The door swung open, and he saw only an empty bed. He could see blood on the floor, the cut ropes on the bed, and his blood stained pillows. A moment past and he heard sniffling.
"Chic'ya?" he said softly and kneeled down next to the bed. He heard the sniffling pause, before it continued again. He laid down on his stomach so he could see her, and she stared back at him with a crumpled face, wet eyes, and bruised skin.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said trying to coax her out from under the bed. He reached a hand out, and while he would be able to yank her out if he wanted, he decided on the gentler approach. He motioned with his hand for her to come closer.
"Chic'ya, come out please," he coaxed. She shook her head as he motioned for her. She said something he did not understand. He sighed, went to get some food, and slid the tray to the base of the bed. He backed away toward his desk, but did not sit down. He watched as her hand popped out and grabbed a piece of bread form the tray. It took her a moment, but eventually she grabbed the glass of wine he had poured for her. A few seconds later the empty glass was placed back on the tray and he heard her sliding back to the center of the bed.
He waited a few minutes for the wine to set it, and seeings how small, her lack of tolerance, and her lack of food in her stomach, it did not take long at all. He got back onto the floor and spoke to her gently and soothingly, like he would a frightened colt or filly. She watched him a moment, holding her split lip with her hand.
"Come here Chic'ya. I will take care of you," he said. "Come here."
She began to move toward him, and he smiled.
A/N: Let me know what you think please!