A/N: Thanks for your feedback on the last chapter! Please be sure and read the warnings for this chapter before you go about reading it, because it is a rather different type of situation. If you're staunchly against any and all Beckabeth flirtation, you may just want to ignore this chapter…. To tell you the truth, I rather enjoyed writing this chapter, but of course, everyone is different…. However, you may want to "set the mood" by not being in a really busy room when you read this…. As you can see by the small scroll bar on your browser, this is quite a long chapter, but I couldn't figure out where to divide it in half, so, here it is in all its glory...

Chapter 12: Tables Turned

Warnings: innuendo an' kink… if yer not into those sort o' things then ye probably won't like this… so please don' be too harsh if ye still choose to read such a thing after such an explicit warnin'…

Beckett smirked knowingly as he felt the expected tug on the bottom of his breeches. He took a couple of steps backwards down the steps, ducking his head under the floor to peer at Elizabeth.

She was shooting him the nastiest glare she could conjure, having released her hold on his clothing.

"You can stop now," she spat at him, watching his eyes narrow with mild suspicion.

"And just why would I want to do that, pray tell." He bit his lower lip, awaiting her response.

She crossed her arms huffily, looking up at him at his position on the steps.

"Because next time Jack decides to toss you overboard, I'm not going to be there to stop him."

"Well, that's because you'll be right beside me, prodded overboard whilst wearing nothing but your slip. Sounds rather exciting to me." He finished his statement in a contrastingly dry tone, yet his eyes flashed with interest.

"Jack would never believe you," Elizabeth replied, sounding confident, ignoring his last comment. "I can just stand here and say that you're being difficult and that you're trying to blackmail me into agreeing not to punish you."

Suddenly a strange little flicker of a grin came across Beckett's face, and his eyes lit up. She thinks just as I think. How is it possible that she and I are so alike? And yet, she doesn't disgust me, as she probably should. Mm. Watching her march to the end of the plank in an almost transparent slip. Following behind her as she plunges into the water, the slip flying up over her head in the process, revealing everything in one fell swoop… the slip immediately becoming transparent in the waves. It wouldn't take much prodding to leap off the plank after her to take in that particular sight….

"Ah, but Barbossa would believe me. There'd be no way to convince him otherwise. You know that what he saw in your cabin looked very bad indeed. I'd tell him, and then he could convince Sparrow. Your time with the Pearl is running short unless you allow for me to even the score. Since you're apparently so guilt-ridden and all."

"You're despicable," she spat, shooting him a venomous glare. He sighed, taking another step down the ladder.

"Well, at least I'm trustworthy."

Her face had darkened to a rather violent shade of red. It looked like she was about to explode. If I had a sword, I'd be pushing her away from me with the point of it at this moment. Otherwise I'm within reach of being strangled by her.

All of a sudden, Elizabeth let out a long-held breath of air, the red of her face fading to a more normal shade of pink. Beckett remained where he was, even though he felt much like running away. She regained her composure and spoke.

"If I agree to your stupid ploy just this once, will you keep your mouth shut from now on to Jack and Barbossa about—"

"It shall never cross my lips again," he replied calmly, yet secretly thrilling inside.

"They're going to hear us," Elizabeth whimpered, positioned across Beckett's lap, fortunately for her still fully dressed. Beckett had slipped his shirt back on and was staying silent for the time being, having decided the cat o' nine tails to be too harsh—and not fun enough for him.

This is just like my manipulation of Jack, she told herself. No reason to feel any other emotion about this. I am simply using Beckett so that he'll do as told. Yes. That's all. I'm giving in to his ridiculous demand so that he'll keep his mouth shut from now on. After all, I don't want to be dumped off in the Azores forever after Jack assumes that I've went soft for Beckett, or even worse, that I've fallen for Beckett. However, she had to admit that this new positioning looked very much like what she'd feared. Beckett was her enemy; months ago, she would have given anything to watch the ever-present smirk on his face be wiped away forever. But now… the ire had left her. He had more than paid his dues. She was a rage of emotions and had been ill for some time now, and he had given her something to soothe her sickness. He had even saved her life. Well, truth to tell, she had saved his life three times now, yet here he was, arguing that the score was favoured towards her end—and getting her to agree to this vile treatment. How did he manage to convince me of this? she mused. Well, the first time I saved his life, I did it so that I could exact my revenge, rather than let him simply fall asleep in the water. So that probably shouldn't count… Wait, why am I trying to justify his mutated sense of reasoning?

She knew that Jack had his own things on his mind, namely his troubling issue with the Azores, and being as she was constantly ill-at-ease around him, she no longer could claim him as a confidant. But where exactly did Beckett fit into all of this?

Beckett looked down at Elizabeth draped across his lap, her hips resting on his thigh. Never would he have expected her to actually give in. There must be more to her than I first thought, he mused, enjoying the view. It had been more of a tease from him than an actual request, but he had definitely pushed the envelope a bit. Well, I've sort of blackmailed her into this, in all honesty. But no matter. This is actually going to happen. To him, there was something inherently seductive in the act of making oneself vulnerable to another person; to bow to that person's will completely. He had previously done so in the brig with Elizabeth, and as much as he hated to admit it, although that flogging had rendered him breathless and dangerously weakened, not all of it was bad. And now the tables were turned.

"What shall it be then? Five?" he said, his voice hushed as he looked down at the top of her head.

Her chin dropped onto his other thigh as she sighed.

"Whatever. Just get it over with," she said, shutting her eyes.

"Now, that's not the spirit," he replied in a tsking tone, his gaze taking in the form of her draped over his lap. "Why do you think you ought to be spanked?"

The last word he said caused a bristling of something within her, not sharp and painful, not nauseating, but something of a different nature. She couldn't, of course, tell him the real reason she was giving in to his demands. That's simple: blackmail, she mused, almost scoffing aloud. However, there was an element of penance to this, because she had done Beckett wrong by letting her curiosity get the best of her with Jack.

She declined to move her chin from where it sat. As she spoke Beckett felt her jaw moving up and down on his thigh… and couldn't help but enjoy the sensations it evoked.

"Because I have to even the score, or however you worded it," she replied glumly. So that you don't turn the whole bloody ship against me…

"Right," he replied, his voice chipper. "And may I add; due to your irrational, childish behavior from earlier, in which you decided to lash out at me – quite literally – in lieu of simply communicating to clear the air, you are to be punished just like an insolent child."

He was truly in his element. He rather liked this sort of play. Hopefully her weight was not bearing down upon any certain area of his lap, for that might lead to certain issues later…

Elizabeth was affronted, but not as much as she should be, not as much as was customary for her. There was an element of guilt there in what she had brought about, and so his statement wasn't completely inaccurate. There was also something else there, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Wait—but why am I telling myself this?

Suddenly his hand was at the waistband of the men's trousers she had been wearing. She sucked in a breath as his fingers brushed the skin beneath the garment. Something was definitely stirring within her, and the feeling grew as the contact continued. Stop this please, she pleaded internally. What are you trying to do to me, you rotten—thing, you…

If it had been Jack in this situation surely she'd have already gotten a good rogering, that she was certain of. Yet here Beckett was, being ever so calm and yet causing ever so many strange feelings to be flooding her. Warm feelings. Tingly feelings. Hmph. Very odd indeed.

Beckett hooked the fingers of both hands to the waistband, and began applying a subtle pressure to the trousers—in a downward direction. Elizabeth immediately sensed this.

"What are you doing?" she cried, craning her neck to look back at the offending action.

He kept his hands where they were, but she did not try to remove them.

"I happen to believe that two lashes with the cat o' nine tails, one upon an already painful wound, are hardly equal to… let's say, five slaps on a layer of cloth."

"Do you not have any sense of decency, of propriety?" she said, her voice laced with danger.

"Of course I do. However, that was long abandoned upon your voluntary decision to lose all sense of propriety with me. And if I have to explain that to you, that's all the more reason for you to be punished."

Oh God. His own words were triggering a rather unfortunate series of events in him that might or might not soon be evident to Elizabeth. Maybe he shouldn't try to remove anything of Elizabeth's. He might not make it. But then again, when was the last time he had made it, come to think of it….

He began applying the downward pressure there, as the fabric very subtly lowered.

"No!" she exclaimed. "I refuse to let you do this!" She began to pull her body up off his lap, but he held her down with steady pressure of his hands on her lower back.

"The longer this takes the more likely someone will see you," he said teasingly. She froze. What if Jack walked down and saw this? She'd never hear the last of it. Beckett would surely be killed. Truth to tell, so might she as well. Or maybe Jack would want to do the exact same to her as Beckett was now doing….

"They'd see you as well, you bloody fool! You'd be killed!" she cried.

"Then so be it," he replied coolly. His calmness under extreme pressure unnerved her. I do believe that he does not care whether he lives or dies, she mused. I, on the other hand, do care. I'm only doing this so that I can stay aboard this ship and keep the peace—at least until we finally reach the mainland, she told herself. This means nothing other than that. This is just like when I kissed Jack, just a bit more—odd.

She lowered back down onto his legs again, positioning her hips over his left thigh. This time, when he moved his hand to the waistband, she did not react. The steady downward pressure was again applied, and soon Beckett had a full view of Elizabeth's rump, which was already starting to flush with embarrassment, more than likely.

He shut his eyes tightly after taking in the view, taking slow, deep breaths. Cutler, you've got to contain yourself. You've to play down this moment, this situation, just as you have every other highly… stressful situation. He raised his left hand to strike the soft flesh, holding a breath as he brought his hand down with a sting upon Elizabeth's derriere, causing warmth to flood both his skin as well as hers. She reacted to the flesh-on-flesh slap with a slight contraction of the muscles, but nothing more. A slightly cold sensation had also occurred, due to Beckett's ring also making contact with her backside. The slap had made a decently loud sound, but what with the sound of the capstan now being turned, no one would have heard it. It was a good thing Beckett had brought them to the hold, which was the furthest away from everyone else on the ship. And he had locked the trapdoor to the hold from the inside. Not that Elizabeth needed to know that, of course….

Oh, God, she mused. I daresay that was more… enjoyable than painful. Realization hit her at the inappropriateness of the thought. Oh, what's the matter with me? The physical response she was having to this very intimate punishment was startling to her, and she was frightened. I wonder how many more of these remain. I've already lost count….

He raised his hand up again and brought it down forcefully, feeling the delightful sting on his fingers. How many had he told her there'd be? He wasn't sure he could take doing this any more without causing her a great deal of discomfort, and not in the spanking sense, either….

Two more spanks and Elizabeth's entire lower body was humming with activity, thick with… desire. Most definitely. She was actually aching… aching for Beckett? Yes. Yes, she was. The frankness of her own mind amazed her. I hope he decides on more…or moves on to other… related activities. Oh, God, I must be out of my mind….

Beckett swallowed loudly, preparing to announce the final blow. His breathing rate had definitely quickened, and he could feel his heart hammering in his chest. Certainly his heart was supplying ample blood supply to—

"Last one," he heard himself say, his voice husky with desire. Oh, how many months had it been—how many years had it been, since he had felt this way? Too many to count, that was for sure.

It was then that Elizabeth shifted on his lap so that her rump was now slightly elevated on his thigh, her skin showing off four distinct red handprints.

Oh, dear... oh no! his mind shouted, realizing the immediate consequence of her presenting her rump to him in such a… a sensual way. She was enjoying this too! Oh dear; it's been far, far too long… Pulses of pleasure were coursing through his system with each second that passed. I'd better push her off me as soon as possible. With all the strength he could muster, he straightened his legs beneath her and gently pushed her so that her body would roll down his legs a bit….

Upon her rolling, the frontal aspect of her lower body was most certainly exposed to Beckett. She stopped rolling at his knees, feeling embarrassed that Beckett most likely had seen the front of her—and looked up at him, her eyes narrowed. Beckett's eyes were shut, face flushed with a slight sheen of sweat, mouth slightly open as she heard his every quivering breath. He had since leaned back on his hands, his eyes remaining firmly shut.

What was he doing—oh my… realization hit her. He was enjoying this! But why did he have to stop—

As soon as the words entered her brain she felt a surge of guilt. She looked back at Beckett, watching his Adam's apple bob indicative of swallowing. He most certainly enjoyed that, she thought bitterly. Maybe one or two swats more, and I could be in that state… but no….

After a short time, Beckett cautiously opened his eyes, one at a time, to find Elizabeth in the region of his knees, on her stomach and still exposed, staring at him intently. Immediately a thought crossed his mind, at the state of her undress. Why had she not fixed her bree— Embarrassment flooded him, and all colour left his face, at her intense gaze. She had watched his whole response. Oh dear… Does she know? He gulped, eyes falling from her face. He was ashamed. He couldn't believe that things had gone quite this far. Oh, he'd imagined situations like this in his mind, but to actually experience it was a far different story…. And now she had witnessed his very personal response—

"We're not even," Elizabeth said breathily, her voice barely above a whisper, disappointment in her eyes. He gaped at her, his mouth dropping open ever so slightly. Oh, just that positioning, just that type of talk—he couldn't be readying again so soon, could he?

"W-what do you mean," he said, stammering like a schoolboy. His throat constricted as he heard his own quivering breaths.

"I think five more would make us even," she replied, her voice low and even breathier than before. Her heartbeat drowned out her being able to hear her own voice, blood pulsing in regions of her body she had never even thought had a heartbeat. Every inch of her skin was buzzing and highly sensitive. His heart caught in his throat.

"What," he involuntarily sputtered, hearing his heart pounding in his ears. He mouth dropped open as he watched her shift her body up his leg until she was again positioned over his thighs. She elevated her backside once more in a sort of sensual presentation. He shut his eyes again, trying ever so hard to compose himself… and failing miserably.

"Aren't you going to ask me why," she said teasingly, turning her head to look upwards at him under her eyelashes, murmuring in a breathy whisper, much like when she had almost seduced Jack into kissing her. He opened his eyes immediately to see her looking at him again, and gulped.

"No," he replied curtly, eyelids heavy, lifting his hand robotically as he blinked several times. It was all he could say at the moment. Elizabeth Turner—young, beautiful, naughty Elizabeth Turner—wanted to be spanked by him. All the blood had certainly left his brain, pooling elsewhere….

He brought his hand down, causing jolting sensations to run up and down Elizabeth's spine upon feeling the sting of the slap. She licked her lips, taking in all of the lovely sensations flooding her entire being. Never had she felt this—good. No one had ever done this sort of thing to her before—not even in her childhood. Maybe because she missed this experience she was now reacting to it in such a way. But then, imagining Will in Beckett's place right now almost turned her off completely.

I'd have positioned myself across Will's lap, and he'd be goggling at me most likely, his mouth probably slightly agape all the while. I'd look back at him as seductively as possible from my position, and he'd gape back at me, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. Guess he gets that from his father….

"Haven't I been bad enough, Will?" I'd say. "I've done some very naughty things while you've been away." And this would indeed be true….

His face would turn beet-red and his eyebrows would be stitched with concern.

"So?" I'd add in a whisper, lifting my rump just a little higher up, letting it brush against his trembling hand. I think that was the point when Beckett was set off all the way. But Will—

Suddenly his eyes would go wide and he'd try to push me off, as I'd ask him why and try to remain in place.

"Because this is very inappropriate, Elizabeth," he'd say. "I would never want to hurt you."

"But you won't be hurting me, Will. I tend to think you'd do the opposite, in fact."

His face would be all twisted with innocence and he'd look at me with a look of pure bland romance and undying devotion and he'd shake his head slowly, making me feel like some sort of insolent child… but in a negative way… unlike how Beckett worded it, or was it the way he said it?

"I just can't get this feeling that by striking you, I'd be hurting you. I just can't—"

This would be the point that I would lose all interest and would roll off of him, redressing in my new self-conscious state.

"Aren't you happy enough…making love?" he'd say, his eyes all puppy-dog big, seriousness on his thin lips. "We only have this one day—" he'd continue, as he'd stand up as well.

I wouldn't be able to help but roll my eyes at his inexcusable purity of thought. Absolutely no naughty side, no adventurous side to him at all. Not a peek of it in all the years I've known him, actually, except when he's on a mission to save his bloody father…. And the worst thing of all, this one bloody day once every ten years, to repeat the same scenario… Or, as Beckett pointed out, probably only twice more I'd even be interested in that sort of play.

Unlike Will, there was some sort of naughtiness, a hint of sadism about Beckett's ways. And, of course, that mischievous little smirk he was always flashing. Just thinking that Beckett was flashing that naughty grin across his face right now made her body stir with excitement once again. Beckett, smirking down at me with those full lips of his… unlike Will's everlasting somber thin-lipped grimace.

But, even so…what could Beckett be doing to her to be causing this? Maybe it was just the human contact… But then again, maybe not. How was it possible to feel this good without actually doing anything? She wanted to push Beckett, to see how far he'd go with this….

"I've been very bad," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. There was certainly truth to her words, and yet, uttering them made her feel ever so scandalously good.

Beckett sucked in a breath and held it, gaping down at Elizabeth lustfully and yet, blinking in disbelief at what she had just said. She's coming on to me. There's no denying that. He couldn't even move his arm, wanting nothing more than to push her off his lap and proceed to ravage her—

She peeked back at him, eyelids heavy with desire—and anticipation. He looked at her gazing up at him from beneath those eyelashes, her rump fully exposed to him. Come on, Cutler; she expects you to say something back.

"You'll only learn your lesson from a sound spanking," he heard himself say huskily, as he lifted his arm again, using sheer willpower to keep from losing control. Four more, and then I'll have done my duty and can then have her—

Again his palm struck her bare skin. I'm going to explode, she thought, her skin having become ultrasensitive to the skin of the palm of his hand. And hearing his low, husky voice speaking to her in such a way only made the impending explosion more certain….

Instead of lifting his hand again, however, Beckett was now running his hand smoothly over her warmed skin. She shut her eyes, her mind a complete blank. His hand squeezed flesh, not forcefully, but definitely noticeably. Oh my, oh Lord… Beckett, that is! All of a sudden, the tingly pressure that had been building within her was released. It felt like every muscle in her body tensed and relaxed, and her physical reaction was not lost on Beckett. She may have even made a sound in the process, but all worldly senses had temporarily been blocked by all that she was feeling inside.

In reply to Elizabeth's raspy breathing and quivery moan, and the feeling of flesh squeezed between his fingers, Beckett promptly experienced a similar situation as he had before—once again. This time, he held his breath, for fear of revealing himself as a quivering mess. He didn't push her away this time. She looked too much at peace.

Elizabeth lay stretched out on his lap, in the afterglow of the moment. Within a minute or two she came to her senses and pulled her breeches back up, however staying in position.

Oh, I can't believe that just happened, she mused, feeling a flush of embarrassment filling her face. But wow.

She scooted her body off so that she was now beside a seated Beckett, his legs stretched out straight in front of him.

Her eyes wandered cautiously up to his face. He had been staring off into space, but upon noticing her looking at him, he glanced tentatively at her, his eyes quickly becoming downcast.

I think that if he pounced on me right now, I wouldn't fight it….

After several more seconds, they exchanged sheepish glances. He was still in stunned disbelief. It was his turn to make the move, but he remained glued to the floor, lost deep within a head empty of all thought.

Elizabeth was the first to rise to her feet, dusting the dirt off of her breeches. Beckett's hope of having his way with her fell onto the floor upon the realization that she was now standing. He soon followed in standing, pulling his shirt down as he rose unsteadily to his feet.

"So," she stammered, trying to catch her breath. "We have to make it seem that I did what I was supposed to do."

"And what was that," he said in a trance, not able to think of much else other than the sensations he had felt only minutes before. With Elizabeth Turner, of all people. Sensual, naughty, Elizabeth Turner…. with a manipulative, stubborn mind much like his own….

"First, we'll have to go back to the brig," she said. "Then I'll proceed to flog your shirt so that it gets lash marks."

"No," he suddenly blurted, startling her. "I'd prefer to keep it on, if that's quite alright," he added hastily.

She was shocked, and her face showed it. How dare he—

"But you agreed—"

"You can just flog it where it is," he replied curtly. "I just implore you not to put as much force behind it, please."

Beckett looked utterly sheepish. Elizabeth's jaw dropped.

She grabbed the back of his shirt as he began to ascend the ladder to the brig. "Why won't you just take it—"

"No," he said, looking back at her as if stung. He couldn't take off his shirt because that would expose the traces of a rarely experienced mess. "I'll react as if you're hitting me harder than you are."

"Alright," she said, confused by his insistence on leaving the shirt on. Even so, she followed him to the brig wordlessly.

She laid seven stripes on him, rather meekly, she had to admit, hearing his mock whimpering and yelps with each new blow.

After almost every lash, Beckett would turn his head and look at Elizabeth out of the corner of his eye. Although Elizabeth noticed each and every time he did so, the way he was making her insides stir with excitement forced her to ignore these glances, and continue. It's possible someone is listening...not that that had mattered before, of course, she mused a bit guiltily.

Although the lashings had not been forceful, they had dealt a couple of slices to his shirt and even a few drops of blood.

After it was all over and she was to leave, Beckett moved towards her, causing her to turn to face him.

She looked at him expectantly, confused at the strange new feelings she now associated with his face… with his hand.

He allowed for his eyes to meet hers. His expression was dead serious.

"Thank you," he said, in a low murmur, heavily suggestive.

Her expression was mildly suspicious.

"For what?" she said, fearful of what he was going to say. Please don't mention what just happened, she mused. I'm still in utter shock that I allowed for all that to hap—well, that I did all that, actually.

His mind went blank, his throat went bone-dry and his tongue became like chalk in his mouth.

"Well—if you… if you must know," he stammered, swallowing loudly. "…for saving me from being thrown overboard, and for taking it easy on my back, at least, the second time—"

She gave him a nod, half a smile appearing on her face.

"You're wel—" she began to say with a sigh of relief, but he interrupted her.

"—as well as for other things," he added with a naughty little smirk, watching her face flush as most likely his own was doing at the moment.

Seeing his smirk appearing now caused stirrings within her, in rather inappropriate places. She felt lightheadedness coming on, but instead crossed her arms and kept her jaw set. This is not the time nor place for this sort of thing, she mused, forcing herself to remain level-headed.

If she would just give me the slightest hint of wanting more, I'd be most happy to oblige, Beckett thought, as he watched her cross her arms. Ah… too little, too late on my part, I suppose. What a bloody shame…

Their faces seemed to linger in space—and then Elizabeth flashed him a sheepish smile and took off up the ladder without another word.

Okay. There you are, folks. Phew. (that last word was a sigh of relief)

Preview for next chapter:

Barbossa watched Elizabeth out of the corner of his eye as he spoke.

"'Tis a good idea, Jack, an' bein' as good ideas fer ye are few an' far-between, I'll agree to this'n."