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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.

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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.

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

Chapter Eight: A Hopeless Situation

I fell asleep in the robe on top of the bed. I know I did. But when I awoke, I was naked and under the sheets and blankets, and I had no idea how I’d got there. The robe was gone too, dammit. I tiptoed out, a sheet wrapped around me for modesty, and found it was still very early. The sun was just beginning to rise outside; I could see dawn through the curtains in the living room. Hook’s door was wide open and he was sprawled in his bed, snoring up a storm. His pistols, hook, and sword lay on the couch and I was tempted to take a blade and slit his throat. Could I manage it before he woke up? When I’d crept out of the cabin yesterday morning, he’d been up and dressed within a minute or two. But did I really have the strength and courage to kill a man in his sleep? I sighed, knowing I was a coward at heart, and padded over to the bathroom to pee.

Once I was out of the bathroom, I walked quietly over to the balcony, just to see if he’d locked the door. I was amazed to find it was open. I looked over at him in the bed; he snored loudly, one arm over his face. I silently opened the balcony door and let myself outside to breathe in a bit of fresh air. The balcony door clicked shut behind me and I watched as dawn broke over the water and the town. We were on the second floor, far enough up that jumping would be painful but not so far up that it was impossible. I looked down and examined the wall around and below the balcony. No trellises, ladders, or anything they had in movies to aid the heroine in her escape. I tucked the edge of my sheet in more tightly and put my hands on the edge of the balcony to look as far down as I could. I leaned over the edge carefully. Underneath the balcony was a stone garden bench surrounded by rose bushes. Ouch. That would hurt to land in. Damn. What about going from balcony to balcony? I looked over but the nearest balcony was too far away and the hotel walls were smooth. Right. I was stuck unless we left the hotel and I could run away, but how I could do that without shoes, I wasn’t sure.

I stood out on the balcony for about half an hour before I decided to come inside. Hook was still asleep, surprisingly enough, so I decided to take a shower. I hadn’t had a shower in a couple of days and I really wanted to wash my hair properly. I stood under the hot water, letting it wash over me, and contemplated my fate. I had a place to sleep. I had food—well, I had to give head for it, sometimes, but at least I got food and lots of it. I was going to be given clothing, even if I didn’t have enough of it. And I only had to have sex with Hook. He didn’t seem to want to share me—at least, not yet. I was a bit concerned about what would happen when he got bored with me. I washed my hair three times and then stepped out of the shower. I dried off, brushed out my hair with one of the complementary brushes I found in a drawer in the bathroom, and brushed my teeth. Finally feeling more human, despite my captive status, I wrapped my towel around me and walked back out into the living room.

Hook was awake. He walked into the living room from his bedroom, completely naked, his cock totally erect in the manner of men in the morning. He didn’t say anything but simply walked to the bathroom. He didn’t close the door, but proceeded to pee and fart with impunity. I went to my room and closed the door behind me. I may have been a prisoner, but I didn’t have to watch him use the toilet. There was a knock at the door, which he answered. It was the valet, reporting for duty.

“A bath,” was all Hook said, and the valet went directly to the bathroom to draw him a bath. Hook wandered into my room. “Have you bathed?”
“Yes,” I answered. I pointed to my damp towel.
“I see,” he replied, and walked out of my room again. He went to take his bath and I sat on my bed, practically twiddling my thumbs. Being a captive? Dull, dull, dull, except for the bits of intermittent terror.

The valet set the table for breakfast and the dressmaker appeared at the door with two maids in tow.
“I have your dresses, miss,” she said, and the maids held up the aforementioned garments.
“You’ll have to talk to him,” I said, and nodded in the direction of the bathroom. We could hear Hook slosh away in the tub.
“Is he bathing?”
“Yep.” Dumb question, really.
“Well, then, perhaps we’ll just try these on without him for now,” she said. She didn’t even turn her head to look in the direction of the bathroom. She snapped her fingers at the maids, and I let them take my towel. My ribs were almost completely purple-black now, the bruises mottling nicely, and the dressmaker hissed at it between her teeth. “And how did that happen, miss?”
“He did it,” I said. I gritted my teeth as the maids laced me into one of the dresses.
“He did not!” she exclaimed, shocked.
“He did. He sank the ship I was on. I was the only one who didn’t escape in the lifeboats so they captured me,” I said, as she took out a needle and thread and adjusted little bits of my new dress. It was a layered affair, with a low-cut bodice and back, tight sleeves, and a long puffy skirt.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand, miss,” said one of the maids with a frown. The dressmaker glowered at her and the maid slapped a hand over her mouth, curtseying to me instead of talking.
“Megan there doesn’t know her manners, miss,” the dressmaker told me. “Now, how is that?”
“Constricting and too girlie,” I said, and she snorted.
“Then I’ve got it right, I suppose.” She looked me over. “Right then. Out of that one and into the next.”

She made me try on all three dresses so she could make final adjustments. It took so long that Hook finished his bath and came into the living room, dressed in his robe.
“We’re just about done here, sir,” the dressmaker said, as she made a final tuck in my third dress. Hook looked me over and gave me an appreciative leer.
“Very nice,” he said. He ran his fingers over the tops of my breasts. “I suppose you’ll be wanting payment then.”
“If you please, sir,” the dressmaker said, as she packed up her stuff. Hook took a gold piece out of his bag on the couch and handed it to her.
“That will be sufficient I assume?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you sir.” The dressmaker and her maids left without another word and I was left standing in the centre of the room, dressed in a long royal blue satin gown. I felt vaguely ridiculous but Hook seemed to think I looked exactly right.

“May I ask why I have to dress like this if you don’t intend to ever let me leave this room?” I asked petulantly.
“I never said I wouldn’t let you leave this room,” he corrected me. He got dressed, buttoning up his freshly washed trousers. He let the valet help him with his hook and then sat down to be shaved. “As a matter of fact, I’ve got an appointment with the governor of Neverland this morning and I want you to be there.”
“Why?” I asked, suspicious.
“He’s very fond of charming young ladies such as yourself,” he said. The barber carefully shaved around his nose. “You will attend the luncheon with me.”
“I am not a charming young lady and you know it.” I eyed him with even greater suspicion. “What’s your game?”
“The name of the game, my dear, is not to be known by such as you until the game is, itself, won,” he said. The barber finished shaving him and then began to trim his moustache and beard.
“Won’t I need shoes if we’re going to lunch?”
“No. I’ve brought young ladies like you to lunch before. He is fully cognizant of why you won’t be wearing shoes,” Hook said and I frowned.
“You mean, he’ll know I’m a captive and he won’t do anything about it?”
“He and I have an agreement,” he said. “He gets a portion of whatever we bring in, and in return he doesn’t prevent me from plying my trade.”
“Your trade.”
“Being a pirate is a skill, my dear. It’s an art,” he said, as the barber finished up. Hook stood and looked at himself in the mirror. “Be that as it may, the answer is yes, he will not do a thing to help you.”
“Well, there goes that hope,” I muttered.

He took my chin in his good hand and brushed a curl away from my face with his hook.
“Perhaps you will finally realize that you have no hope, my dear,” he said almost gently. “You are mine and you will remain mine until I decide I have had enough. That is simply all there is to it.” I couldn’t look at him; I looked across the room instead and my eyes caught those of the valet, who looked disturbed. He looked at me for a moment before looking at the floor. “Now, breakfast.”
“Do I get to have breakfast without performing for you?” I asked. He smirked at me.
“Of course not,” he said. He sat down and gestured to the floor in front of him. I looked at him for a moment and then decided that I’d had it.
“No,” I said, and turned away. “I think I’d rather go hungry today.”
“Really? I’m surprised,” he said, as he sprinkled sugar on his porridge.
“I don’t see why you should be,” I said. “You can make me wear the dress. You can lock me in the room. But if you give me a choice, I can always choose not to do what you want.”
“That is true,” he agreed, as he poured himself a cup of coffee. I turned and went to my room, closing the door behind me. I sat on the bed, my skirt flounced up around my knees, and put my head in my hands. What a crappy situation.
- 7
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- 9
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By Hook or By Crook