<div class="floatright">(http://static.desktopnexus.com/thumbnails/739728-bigthumbnail.jpg)<strong><br/>   Ophelia Rockefeller<br/>   In the stateroom<br/>   With Captain Hawkes<br/>   Strangled and branded by the Captain<br/></strong><hr/></div>When the Captain stood up from his chair, Ophelia wished she could retreat inside the wall. The man was taller than her, in full uniform, while she was nearly naked, gagged and cuffed. She was in a totally helpless situation, something she had never been taught in her self-defence training. Some of her acquired reflexes shot in though and she imperceptibly shifted her weight on her left foot so as to free her right leg for kicking him if the need arose. And her kicks could be deadly, or so her trainer had told her.<br/><br/>Hawke reduced it to nothing by stomping his boot on her naked toes. She gasped from the pain and the shock and yanked on her feet to free them from the Captain's weight. To no avail... A moment later, his hand was around her throat, squeezing her windpipe and lifting her. Ophelia's eyes grew wide open in panic. Again she tried to kick her legs free, she twisted her body, contorted her arms and emitted an amazing amount of muffled moans from under her gag. But all she managed to do was to make her naked breasts bounce and swing frantically, their nipples brushing against the Captain's shirt. His hand seemed to be made of steel.<br/><br/>Her head was lifted higher, her breathe supply was almost completely cut off. Her nostrils were flaring widely as she tried to force air into her burning lungs but even the few trickles she managed to squeeze down her trachea were polluted by cigar smoke. Her eyes were bulging and rolling piteously. Her chest was heaving fast, causing her breasts to bounce at the same frantic rhythm. As her head turned red, her vision darkened and narrowed. She was totally trapped between him and the cold steel wall she was pressed against. Was she going to die? Was it what it felt to be hanged? She could not even scream anymore into her gag because her lungs were empty.<br/><br/>Hawkes' face had totally changed. He was no longer trying to keep a contained appearance. The mask of civilisation was gone and his true self was in full view, a terrifying spectacle to the poor Ophelia. She felt, and actually was, totally helpless. Nobody would help her. This was a situation she had never ever lived and was terribly scary.<br/><br/>Then, as she was fighting against nausea and asphyxia she felt pain in her nipple. With her head pressed against the wall, she was forced to look slightly upward and could not see what was exactly happening. The pain grew unbearable, as if her nipple was crushed in a vise grip, and then stretched away from her body. Her breast followed, elongated, cone-shaped. A feeble moan escaped her gagged mouth. She was clenching her teeth on the ball of cotton. As he spoke with the cigar in his mouth, as he mocked and threatened her, the glowing red tip of his cigar was dancing a mere inch from her puffy face.<br/><br/>And then the pain in her nipple receded, the cigar disappeared from her field of sight, and soon searing agony hit the bottom of her breast. She could not believe it: the bastard had branded her with his cigar. Her body arched backward as the sudden pain gave her a last puff of panicked energy. The pain was hard enough but there was more to it. He had branded her! He had disfigured her perfect chest! And then came the realisation that he was not even afraid of leaving telltale marks on her body. Was this man totally crazy? Or was he planning to get rid of them all in the end?<br/><br/>As those terrible thoughts passed through her mind, Ophelia's face seemed to decompose itself.