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By Hook or By Crook	By : OktoberBlack Category: M through R > Peter Pan > Het Views: 14973 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Disclaimer: Not my characters (except for the ones that are). Not making any money off of them. Wish I were, never going to be. Don’t sue me, please.

Again, we have to remember Hook is a pirate and he lives in a world that isn’t quite so nice. This section has some pretty awful things in it. I’m discovering as I write this fic that Neverland isn’t such a great place, really. I mean, maybe the part with Peter Pan could be fun and stuff, but Hook doesn’t live in that part of Neverland. Anyway, this contains a bit of rape and torture, so consider yourself warned if you squick easily.

Read and review please! I’m loving the reviews I’ve been receiving, btw, so thanks to Madeleine specifically for the feedback.

By Hook or By Crook (for want of a better name)

Chapter Twelve: The Lesson

We didn’t go directly back to the Inn. Hook had errands to run, apparently, and he wanted the use of the carriage to run them. I sat in the back of the carriage while he stood in doorways and talked to rather disreputable looking men, sometimes for half an hour at a time. I was bored and I wanted to go to bed. I tried to curl up in a corner of the carriage, but it was hard to sleep sitting up. Hook filled the carriage with goods of all kinds, from cloth to bottles of brandy, so that it became difficult for us both to sit comfortably inside. He finally instructed the driver to return to the Inn and I sighed with relief. Now I could go to bed, surely. The sun was still fairly high in the sky, but I figured it had to be at least six if not seven in the evening.

Once at the Inn, Simon and several other servants unloaded the carriage, hauling Hook’s goods up to the suite. Hook himself carried me up to our room; he refused to put me down even when we were inside the Inn and I could walk by myself. He finally deposited me in the living room of the suite. I sat on the couch, yawning, while he gave Simon orders.
“I’ve ordered dinner,” he told me, as he sat down at his desk. He seemed to keep good records for a pirate, but then what did I know about piracy? “I assume you’re hungry, simply because you refused to eat lunch.”
“Mmm, yes, actually,” I agreed. My stomach rumbled at the mention of dinner.
“You do realize you’ll have to work for your supper, I hope,” he said and I sighed. I was too hungry to say no, wasn’t I? I thought about it.
“Maybe I’ll just go to bed,” I said, and stood up. He looked hurt.
“After all we’ve been through, how can you refuse me?” he asked.
“Because you’re coercing me,” I shot back, heading into my room. “If you just let it be, I might come to you of my own accord.”
“Really?”
“I don’t know. I’m tired and I want to sleep for a week,” I said. I sat down heavily on my bed. Hook stood in the doorway to my room and leaned casually on the doorframe.
“Perhaps we should get something clear,” he said. “I am a pirate. You are my captive. You are mine. I believe we’ve been through this one before, but you seem a bit dense when it comes to this particular concept.”
“Oh god,” I groaned. I threw myself across the bed.
“If I wish you to use that lovely mouth of yours on my privates, then you will.”
“I thought you were offering me a choice,” I said, one arm over my eyes.
“Well. My apologies if you were misled, my dear, but no, I wasn’t offering you any such thing,” he said. “There is no choice here. There is only me and what I want. Are we clear?”
“Yes,” I sighed. I sat back up again. “Did you want it here? Or in the other room?”
“Here will do,” he said, and unbuttoned his trousers. I sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over to suck him off. He held my head in his hands as I slid my tongue and lips around his cock, holding me still while he fucked my mouth until he came. “There. Now, that wasn’t so bad was it?”
“Can I take a nap now?” I asked plaintively.
“What you need is a good supper,” he said, buttoning himself back up. He pulled me off the bed and led me into the living room, where Simon was directing two servants in setting up supper. “A bit of food in you and you’ll perk right up, just in time for the evening’s entertainment.”
“Entertainment?” I asked, worried.
“Well, strictly speaking, it’s not really entertainment,” he said. He sat down at the table and tucked his napkin under his chin. He took a swallow of his wine and then looked at me. “Don’t worry about that now. Now, you need to eat.”

Dinner was roast pheasant and duchess potatoes, washed down with plenty of white wine. I decided that being drunk was probably the only good way to get through the night, so as long as Hook didn’t seem to mind, I refilled my wine glass as many times as I could manage. I was starving, so the wine went straight to my head and I got really quite giggly. Hook seemed to find this amusing. After dinner he lit up his customary cigars and Simon poured him some brandy.
“Can I have a cigarette?” I asked.
“Of course. I’m nothing if not magnanimous,” he said, waving Simon over with the cigarettes. I lit one and inhaled deeply.
“So, what’s this entertainment you were mentioning before dinner?” I asked, sliding sideways in my chair. My head felt so heavy! What I really wanted to do was sleep. That was all I wanted to do. “Can I go to bed instead? I really want to go to bed.”
“You’ve had a bit too much wine, I think,” Hook said, and Simon removed the wine and food from the table. I stuck out my lip and pouted a bit, but I felt too nice and dizzy to really focus on anything. “While I find your drunkenness somewhat enchanting, I need you a bit soberer if I’m going to take you out tonight.”
“We’re going out? How is that possible?” I asked, my face scrunched up in a confused squint. “Wait. We’ve already been out, so I guess it’s something we could do. Can I have shoes?” “No. And yes, we’re going out.” He stood. Simon rushed to help him with his coat, weapons, and hat. “I believe you’ll quite enjoy what I’ve planned for us tonight.”
“Geez, I don’t know,” I said. I stood up and held onto the table for support. The room swayed alarmingly. “Did you bring me back to the ship? Why are we moving?”
“We’re not,” Hook said. He grasped my arm and held me upright, leading me to the door of the suite. “Come along, my dear. Perhaps we can find you some coffee while we’re out.”

Hook led me out into the early evening, lifting me up and over the stone walkway and into his litter. The air was thick with the scent of tropical blooms, and I inhaled deeply, my eyes closed. The streets were lit with gas lanterns, giving the night a sultry and exotic feel. I could hear frogs and cicadas under the voices, music, and laughter that seemed to emanate from every brightly lit doorway. The pirates bearing the litter knew exactly where they were headed; Hook said nothing to them except “go” when we were safely ensconced inside. The motion of the six men running made me feel nauseated fairly quickly, but it didn’t take us long to reach out destination. I could hear it before we arrived—the sound of hundreds of people shouting and calling out to each other.

“Where are we going?” I asked again, but Hook didn’t even turn to look at me. He put his hand on my thigh, his hook hanging outside the litter, and looked out the window. I swallowed my nausea back down just as we came to a stop. The voices were almost deafening by then. Hook helped me out of the litter. I was tentative at first, but the ground was packed down dirt and easy for me to walk on. I followed him through the crowd. All around us, people were drinking and making bets, laughing and eating and hitting each other. Women walked through the crowd, flirting with the men and selling anything and everything, including themselves. The crowd seemed to part for Hook, as though his mere presence was noted instinctively by those of lesser status. I looked around me drunkenly; everyone we passed looked at Hook with awe, fear, or hatred. Me they looked at avariciously or rapaciously, and I tried to keep as close to Hook as possible for my own safety. I may have been drunk, but I knew I didn’t want to get lost in that crowd.
“Hey there, Girlie!” A hand grabbed my upper arm and twisted me around. I was face to face with a huge man with a three-day growth of beard. He wore pirate garb, but looked rattier, more dishevelled than Hook. He was missing most of his teeth. “You’re quite the morsel, ain’t yah?”
“Let go of me!” I cried. I yanked my arm out of his grasp, but he just laughed. The men around him looked worried and backed away from him as he reached out for me. He grabbed my ass and pulled me towards him.
“Now, none of that. Give us a kiss then,” he cooed. I struggled violently to get away from him. Then his grin turned to shock and surprise. He let me go and I stumbled back from him. He turned to his side and looked at Hook, who was scowling at him.
“Now,” Hook said softly, as he twisted his hook further into the man’s guts from the side of his body, “none of that.” He gave a yank and pulled out his hook; intestines slid out of the hole in the man’s side and he fell to his knees. Hook grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me along with him, the crowd giving us even more room than before. “I can’t trust you for a moment.”

“I had nothing to do with that!” I protested, but he wasn’t listening. He dragged me along with him towards the middle of the crowd. There were tables set up around a large open space in the centre of the crowd; in the very centre of the open space was a wooden stage, behind which was a small building. Waitresses were serving drinks and food to very well dressed men seated at the tables, all of whom were obviously waiting for the evening’s entertainment to begin. Torches lit the area and the night sky above us seemed to grow darker as Hook pulled me towards a table near the middle. He greeted the men seated there; they greeted him in turn with what seemed to me to be a false heartiness. Two seats appeared and Hook sat me down next to him. He called for ale for himself, and strong black coffee for me.
“I don’t like my coffee black,” I whined but he ignored me. He and the other men talked and laughed about a variety of topics, but I couldn’t focus on what they were saying. My head buzzed from all the noise and my stomach threatened to revolt from the wine and the violent death I’d just witnessed. Three black men appeared on the stage and began to beat on drums and the audience noise rose sharply in anticipation. A door in the building behind the stage opened and a short, balding man emerged. He strode to the centre of the stage and put up his hands for silence. The drums stopped abruptly and the audience quieted.
“Neverlanders,” he began. “Pirates and bawdies, whores and Gentleman. You know why we’re here, so let’s just begin, shall we?” He gestured grandly and the audience hooted and hollered. The door at the back of the stage opened again and three huge men appeared, leading about ten men and women who were shackled together. They appeared both submissive and defiant; if they could have bolted and made it through the crowd, they obviously would have.
“What did they do?” I asked Hook. He grinned at me and sipped his ale.
“They were bad captives and slaves,” he replied. “Watch closely and see what happens to bad little slaves.”

The first three of the captives were unshackled and led to posts—one in the centre of the stage, one on the right and the last on the left. I hadn’t noticed the posts before, but wondered how I could have missed them as I watched the captives being tied to the posts. Whipping posts. I swallowed sharply.

“Example number one,” the balding man read from a rolled up piece of parchment. “Not following his master’s orders. Punishment to be administered publicly. Fifty lashes with the cat ‘o’ nine tails.” One of the three huge men stood next to the captive, a leather cat ‘o’ nine tails in one hand. The balding man moved onto the second captive. “Example number two,” he continued. “She refused to warm her master’s bed. Punishment to be administered publicly. Form of punishment at the discretion of the disciplinary committee.” He bowed his head to the second huge man, who held a whip with a long leather handle. The woman tied to the post was crying into her bound hands. I stared at the stage, suddenly sober. The balding man walked to the third captive. “Example number three,” he said. “This one ran away and was recaptured five miles from his master’s plantation. Punishment to be administered publicly. One hundred-fifty lashes to back, legs, and buttocks with a leaded whip.” The audience gasped and then broke into a babble of voices. The balding man bowed briefly to the crowd and left the stage as the punishments began.

I watched, mute, as the captives were punished. The whipping was one thing; while it was hard to watch the two men scream and cry as the whips ripped the flesh of their backs, I found I could almost shut it out. But the woman… The discipline the “committee” decided upon for her was more awful than I could imagine. She was stripped of what little clothing she’d been allowed and the man alternated whipping her with raping her with the butt of the whip. He administered five or six lashes to her back, welts rising and the skin breaking. Then he forced her legs apart with his knees. She tried to get away, but her hands were tied to the post in such a way that she couldn’t go far enough away from him to avoid his hands. He pulled her hips back and shoved the butt of his whip into her, rocking his hips obscenely as he raped her to the cheering of the crowd. Then he removed his whip handle and began to whip her again, the blood running down her legs and her back. She screamed and cried at first, twisting and writhing to get away from her torturer, but after a while she stopped. Whether she was too exhausted to continue to protest, or whether she’d been broken beyond repair, I had no idea.

“You seem rapt, my dear,” Hook said as he gestured for another ale. “Another coffee?” I shook my head, unable to speak. I couldn’t take my eyes from the poor woman in front of me, although I would’ve given anything to be able to look away. Hook watched me, amused. He leaned in and I could feel his breath hot on my neck. “I do hope you’re finding this edifying as well as entertaining. I should so hate to have to teach you this lesson personally.” I shuddered, finally dragging my eyes away from the woman on stage to look at him. He smirked at me and raised his ale glass in a mock toast. “Always remember that you’re a captive, Miss Mann.” I blinked at him several times in rapid succession, trying to assimilate what he was saying. Then I couldn’t breathe any more and the world turned black around me as I passed out.
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By Hook or By Crook