No, he wants her to write to her father

"Here Lady Marlton," After some time Charlette became aware that Black Brand was once again by her side, but instead of standing before her naked and rampant, he was fully clothed and holding a wooden box in his strong hands. Charlotte blinked in surprise as she tried to figure out what he was holding; what was this brigand doing now?

"It's a lap desk." He explained as he set it on the bed next to her, "you are going to write to your father and tell him exactly what I tell you to." Charlotte opened the cover of the hinged case, inside she saw a stack of paper, three fine ivory ink pens with tarnished silver nips, a small glass vial of ink and a well worn blotter.

"Where did you get this?" As soon as she asked the question she realized how stupid it was. Where does an outlaw highwayman get anything this fine, he steals it. "Never mind." She waved off his answer, she didn't want to know. Charlotte ran her hand over the fine grained wood of the writing case before taking one of the sheets of paper and laying it by her side. The simple routine of laying out the paper, opening the inkwell and selecting a pen helped calm her nerves enough that she thought she'd be able to do as he said. She should have anticipated this.

Nearly all she knew about the lust of men she learned from her hidden erotic romances; so far the actions taken by this coarse highwayman fit her expectations nearly perfectly. Her captor had grabbed and bound her then led her away to his lair where she was undressed and her sweet flesh groped as she hung by her wrists, this was just what she had been led to expect. And then, Charlotte could feel the heat in her cheeks as she relived the most recent memory, and then - he had claimed her. Black Brand had carried her to the bed in his strong arms, confidently finished removing her clothes, firmly pulled apart her knees and lowered himself into her impaling her virgin passage with his merciless manhood.

The most distressing part of the whole surreal experience was her shameful acceptance of her fate. She had barely fought him, or pleaded for mercy, Charlotte hadn't even prayed for a miraculous rescue from her fate. In her books, the pretty young heroine was usually rescued just in time by a dashing officer of the dragoons or a polished Italian Marquise who spoke perfect English with a charming accent. Charlotte had neither fought, protested nor prayed for deliverance; in the end, as he pressed his manhood into her she had opened like a flower on a sunny morning and welcomed the invasion, even the pain, as he had taken her.

Charlotte's hand trembled slightly as she tapped the pen gently on the side of the inkwell to remove any excess ink but she had a hard time clearing her mind. Chained as she was to his bed, it was all to easy to imagine herself the Trojan princess, Briseis, carried to Achilles' tent as his captured prize, and Black Brand as the Greek hero who ravished her over and over again until she could no longer resist her handsome lord. The same warmth that heated her core just minutes ago when he had pushed deep into her again and again and brought her to that most unladylike climax was beginning to throb again in her core. -'Dear Lord forgive me!' -Charlotte prayed silently hoping that the Highwayman wouldn't realize how **** she was as she sat on the bed with her ankle chained to the bed post. If he wanted her...if he pressed her again to the great bed she'd spread her legs for him again just like Briseis spread herself open for Achilles.

"Are you ready?" Demanded Black Brand and for just an instant Charlotte thought he had read her mind and was asking her if she was ready for a second round of sinful coupling; thankfully he spoke again before she completely embarrassed herself. "I want you to tell your father," he paused as he struggled to find the exact words, "tell him that you have been captured by Black Brand and that I have some demands if he wants to see his daughter returned to him unharmed." Charlotte's ardour cooled significantly, the Highwayman did want money. What he said before had been a lie just as his kisses and bold caresses had meant nothing - she had been a fool to think anything else.

She started the letter carefully, addressing it to her father just as he asked but as she neatly inked the words, it occurred to her that there was a good chance that this uncultured outlaw wouldn't be able to read any of what she wrote, did she dare add a line or two letting her father know she was being held at Rainbow Falls?