He removes her damp clothing

"Time to get you out of these damp clothes." There was a husky tenor to Mr. Fuller's tone that made Charlotte quiver. So far since the brazen abduction on the sandy beach she had registered many different qualities to the highwayman's words; politeness, anger, frustration and even passion, but this felt darker and more sinister. It wasn't exactly fear that made her sit passively while Mr. Fuller unfastened the row of pearl buttons down her back, but she was tired of fighting him and very aware that she had pushed her captor to the limit of his patience.

As Randy worked to remove her dress he tried to figure out what he was doing; chaining Miss Marlton to the bed might have been a grave mistake. The way she reluctantly offered her calf in surrender, placing it into his hand and allowing him to tighten the black wrought-iron band around her slender white ankle was as erotic for him as her earlier kiss.

The memory of a special **** auction in Rio that he had done his best to forget crashed down on him like a coil of cable. On the way to the rich whaling grounds of the mighty Pacific the New Bedford had stopped to water and re-provision first in Havana and again while traveling along the Brazilian coast at Rio de Janeiro. In each of these cities Randy had seen slavery on a scale he had never imagined; the sight of ebony-skinned slaves working the fields, coffles of shackled men shuffling through the city streets and even the auctions where these men and women were sold were so commonplace that he almost stopped being bothered by them. This particular **** auction however was different.

It was a market that specialized in the sale of lovely young females specifically for the sexual pleasures of their masters. Dozens of nubile women were led in chains, one-by-one, to the center of a raised stage where merchants, craftsmen and even brothel owners of the city mingled freely with noblemen from outlying plantations. All the women had been exceptionally beautiful, some were copper-skinned indigenous women with small upturned breasts and long black hair others were as black as coal with breasts the size of grapefruits and round asses and others still were clearly mulattoes with much lighter skin and features that were almost classical. The auctioneer was skilled at provoking the already licentious nature of the crowd, at times inviting bidders onto the stage to grope and fondle the unfortunate young women. Randy understood almost none of the auctioneer's Portuguese, but even with the language barrier it was easy enough to imagine what the man was saying about how these slaves could be used. The men cheered and clapped in delight as the loose cotton robes were pulled from the shoulders of the nude forms of the lithe young women who were brazenly displayed before being sold.

To Randy's surprise, Lady Marlton had been as resigned to having her clothing removed as those captured beauties in the **** auction had been. Not even when he pulled the damp wool riding dress over her head and laid it on the quilt by her side did she demur. It was only when his fingers searched for the drawstring on the waistband of her leggings that she slapped his hands away. Randy tried to hide his base desire for Lady Charlotte as she protested weakly but his reaction was hard to conceal. He knew it was wrong but the suppressed memories from that Portuguese **** auction was foremost in his thoughts, Randy remembered he had tried to leave, but his mates from the New Bedford had insisted that he stay for the grand finale.

It was evening when the auction ended, and the owner of the auction house ordered torches lit all around the raised platform so no one would miss the last sales. Three fair-skinned women fully dressed in European style clothing and begging piteously in a language that sounded Slavic to Randy's untrained ear were led onto the block to the cheers of the libidinous crowd. It seems the trio had been sold to the captain of a **** barque off the coast of West Africa by a lanteen-rigged pirate galley and added to the slaver's cargo of human flesh. Like Miss Charlotte, these three women struggled in their chains as their clothing was cut away for the cheering buyers. On the raised block lit by flaming torches more and more of their pale skin was slowly exposed until they were as naked as the other poor souls sold earlier in the night, and then they too were auctioned off to the leering men.

"What are you doing?!" Even to her own ears, Charlotte knew she sounded small and defeated, but she had to take a stand. Black Brand hesitated for just a second with his hands on her leggings. Did he have a guilty look on his face? How could a heartless Highwayman like him suddenly look like a child caught stealing cookies from the cook? Even as she stared at the outlaw surprised by what looked like a moment of human decency she saw his expression harden.

"The cotton of these ruffled leggings is soaking wet. They have to come off too." Charlotte acknowledged the logic of his argument, but under the ruffled leggings she wore only silk stockings that clung to her legs held up by a lacy garter belt around her hips and the briefs that covered her most private parts, to let him strip the garment from her legs would be unbearable.

"Let me then." Charlotte carefully pulled the leggings off her free leg and with Mr. Fuller's help under the iron ring and off her other leg until she was dressed only in her slip and stockings. Charlotte watched Black Brand with growing alarm as she saw the raw sexual hunger in his eyes. No man had ever looked at her like that, the unmasked desire was both terrifying and exciting and Charlotte turned away from her abductors lustful gaze. She wished her camisole was longer, Charlotte was all too aware of the cool air that she could feel on the tops of her thighs; if her legs were exposed to the elements then they were equally exposed to the highwayman's eyes, but there was nothing she could do about it. Would he leave her alone now that she was secured to his massive bed, and the worst of the wet clothing was off of her?

Randy had all but forgotten the evocative **** auction and his unexpected reaction to the sale of the lovely young women for the sexual pleasures of their masters until he saw the black iron cuff tightening around the damp silk stockings that encased Miss Marlton's naked limb. What had disturbed Randy the most about the experience was the wicked desire he had felt to possess one of those lovely chained women. He could not help but imagine himself one of the city's wealthy **** owners buying one or more of these lovely teens to use for his pleasure. Really any one of the lovely young slaves would have been a delight to own and bed, but he was most aroused by the pale skin of the European girls sold to these men to use in a most unchristian manner. The harrowing rounding of Cape Horn and the grueling hours of the whaling had wiped the troubling experience from his memory.

Until now...