Page 4

Cabin Boy

I stared at him in shock. He was dismissing me now ? But I was in a state of renewed tumescence and enjoying this visit very much. Turfing me wasn’t fair.

“Leave? You mean, go back to the berths, back to caring for the livestock?” I didn’t want to contemplate returning to my regular duties.

“For now. I have important business to attend to.”

Where had I left my clothes? I looked around, locating them on a chair near the door, then met the captain’s gaze with one of desperation.

“But…couldn’t you…?”

He sighed and tilted his head, grabbing his shirt from the back of a chair and pulling the garment on.

“Well, I could. But I prefer to leave you in this state.”

I gave my poor cock a few strokes and watched him as he buttoned up his shirt. “But, why?”

“Because frustrating you pleases me. Because I want to make sure you’re thinking of me. Because the next time we’re together, I’ll make sure you’re screaming my name into the pillow. If I even allow you a pillow.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Now,” he continued, gesturing to the chair. “Clothe yourself. I’ll see to finding you some better vestments. I may have a position for you that’s a step above looking after goats and chickens.”

“Oh, aye?” I’d be happy for a different task, to be honest.

“Aye,” he said, with a grin. “Do you think you could manage my rooms and help me with miscellaneous—” He looked me over again. “—tasks?”

I flushed, annoyed but entranced. “Of course.”

“Hmm. Well, let me think on this enticing development.”

“Yes, Captain,” I said, resigned to being in a state of frustration for the foreseeable future. I started to walk to the chair where my clothes were piled.

“Oh, and Simon?”

“Hmm?” I said, turning back to him, hoping he’d changed his mind.

“Don’t—” He gazed at my stand as if he wanted to pin my cock to the wall as a souvenir. “—take things into your own hands, if you understand my meaning.”

I didn’t quite understand.

“I beg pardon? What do you mean?”

He grinned with delight.

“That prick is mine. I own it now. And if I tell you to leave your cock alone, you leave it alone.”

A thrill travelled up my spine as my cock swelled further. Well, this was a fine state of affairs.

“Wot? You mean, I’m not to toss myself off? At all? Ever? ”

This is diabolical.

He held up one finger, looking quite smug. “Not unless I give you leave.”

My brain scrambled for purchase.

“But…when will I see you again? For that to happen…” I said, my voice trailing off in hopeless confusion and dismay.

“Never mind. Just be a good lad, and do as I’ve asked.”

“I ain’t a lad. I’m a full-grown man. Why should I keep my hands off?”

“Because I’ve told you to, Mr White. You may be a man—and I’m very glad you are—but I want you to bend to me. Do as I say, please.”

“But…”

He sighed. “Do you like me, Simon Bartholomew White?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then show me you can be obedient. Because that would make me like you even more than I already do.”

I stared at him, understanding now that this was some sort of test. He wanted me to prove I would obey him in sexual matters. In truth, I very much wanted to, in more ways than simply abstaining from self-pleasure. But the indefinite timeline worried me. I supposed I’d have to trust him not to make me wait too long for some relief.

“All right,” I said. “But I should hope for some sort of a reward if I do as you ask.”

He only smiled and gave a curt nod, appearing satisfied but not committing to anything on his end. Putting my filthy clothes back on and preparing to leave with a raging stand and muddled mind was a lesson in humility.

“Here,” he said, and handed me my knife. “Wouldn’t want you to come to any harm.”

“Hmm. What if my bollocks go blue and fall the fuck off, in the state you’ve left me?”

He did me the courtesy of laughing at this exaggeration of my predicament.

“I suppose that’s a risk I’ll have to take. Goodbye, Mr White. Try to keep that bloody goat under control.”

*

I went back to my hammock in the berth, with the stink of other men all around me, which solved the issue of the stand that wouldn’t go down. But after a while, I became frustrated and felt more alone than ever.

Without the distraction of Captain Martin, things on the Arrow were as dull as dishwater.

I made sure the animals had food and drink each day and were soundly contained, but otherwise there was nothing to take my mind off wondering when Captain Martin would summon me and release me from this diabolical torture.

On the seventh day of my purgatory, I found myself seated at the stern of the ship, legs hanging through the rails, taking swigs from a jug of rum I’d nicked from Martinez when he wasn’t looking. The weather was pleasant, and the rest of the crew were either napping in their hammocks or working on various repairs. The benefit of being invisible on a sailing ship was that you were never asked to do any work, of which there was plenty, and that nobody cared if you buggered off to drink yourself silly whilst moping about the state of your sorry existence.

I’d had the gall to hope for an upgrade to my lowly situation, and perhaps I would get one, but I had no idea how long the captain required to contemplate his decision. He had already taken more time than I’d expected. I lingered in a state of distraction. The rum soothed the edges of my discontent, and the view from my current perch was nothing less than spectacular.

Seagulls dipped and soared on the wind, shrieking their aggravation at each other. I leaned despondently against the railing and scanned the ocean’s surface for anything of interest, almost hoping to see another vessel. Anything that might take my mind off of Captain Martin. Now and then I’d catch sight of a dolphin or a seal in the distance. At one point, I saw what I was convinced was the fin of a shark, but perhaps that was the drink. I lay on my back and looked up at the sky, snugging the mostly empty jug under my arm. The broad expanse above me turned all different shades of pink and orange and purple before the colours faded and I found myself gazing up at a blanket of stars.

The wind had died, and the ship rocked peacefully beneath me. I had no idea how long I’d been laying there. The nights were as warm as the days here in the southern seas, so I wasn’t cold. And even if I’d been chilled, the drink was a simmering heat inside me.

I thought about my encounter with the captain, and wished I was still in his rooms. But no, he’d cast me out for his own amusement.

Part of me was annoyed and frustrated with the situation, of course. Another part of me felt inflamed by the thought that he wanted me to give over control to him. Control over my most private desires. Desires that he had an interest in possibly satisfying at some point.

I’d even taken the extreme action of giving my body a once-over with a cloth and cold water each morning, so that at least I’d be somewhat clean when I was summoned to his rooms. Some of the others made fun of me for being so fussy, but I told them to piss off and take their filthy selves elsewhere. I had to admit that keeping clean in this way did make me feel better. But my hair was still a disaster and looked nothing like its natural colour.

At the moment, I wanted nothing more than to slip my hand under the waistband of my trousers and stroke myself off. Most of the men were below decks by now, the ones up top were at the bow, keeping a lookout. But Captain Martin had forbidden me to do so. Was he truly making me suffer for his own enjoyment? Would he summon me back to his rooms to make sure of my obedience? Then again, perhaps he was deceiving me and keeping me in a state of self-imposed restriction for the amusement of pretending it had any other purpose than to frustrate me indefinitely? What if he’d forgotten about me and my prick entirely?

I sighed, running the tip of my finger along the skin at my hip, feeling my cock start to fill, and wondering how Captain Martin would possibly know if I tossed one off. Was the man a telepath? I didn’t think so. He was awfully smart and capable, but I didn’t think he had those kinds of powers. My visit to his rooms had been exciting, and our relationship held promise. But I was twenty-two years old. I was used to taking myself in hand at least a few times a day, if I could find a quiet corner. Even on a crowded pirate ship, there were places to hide and plenty of occasions to slip behind a box of stores and make quick work of a spill.

I slipped the very tips of my fingers under the waist of my linen pants, feeling my prick swell with the anticipation of a good going-over. At this rate, I was torturing myself because I didn’t see myself disobeying him. Which was confusing because why should I be beholden to such a man?

He was the captain of the ship that had taken me on, but that didn’t give him such intimate rights over me. Was there some secret pirate code—oh, excuse me—privateer code—of which I was unaware? I grinned at the thought.

We hereby decree that any man under the age of twenty-five when brought aboard must pledge to be abstinent, even from his own hand, unless the captain of the ship gives him explicit permission to — No, that was ridiculous. What fellow would agree to those terms?

Well, I hadn’t exactly told him to go fuck himself, and perhaps I should have. Giving over that control was a tantalizing idea; to afford him so much power over my body. The thought of that kind of submission excited me, for certain.

However, I’d not anticipated being ignored for so long. For all I knew, he’d decided I wasn’t worthwhile. For God’s sake, holding back for this long couldn’t be healthy. I was at my wits’ end.

Hence the rum and my melancholy brooding.

And now my back ached from laying on the deck—my arse too. But I ignored the dull pain, as I was in a dizzy state of drunkenness, and the stars above were soothing and spectacular. I tried counting them, but that only made me tired, and I didn’t want to fall asleep here. I must have closed my eyes.

And then a hard boot nudged me, and I woke with a grunt.

“What the fuck?” I blurted into the dark.

“Where did you get a jug of rum, young Simon?” Captain Martin drawled, reaching down and taking the item in question from me. He shook the bottle, the remaining liquor sloshing from side to side.

I held my breath, blinking up at him in the moonlight. Then I opened my mouth to tell him that the source of the drink was none of his bleeding business, when he grinned and popped the stopper. He lifted the jug to his lips and drank, side-eyeing me all the while.

I watched, remaining silent as his Adam’s apple bobbed back and forth. He finished, replaced the stopper, and passed the jug back to me. I took it, cradling the bottle to my side like a trusted friend.

“What on earth are you doing out here?” he asked.

“I had planned to leap to my death, but the drink has soothed me.”

He sat beside me, his back against the rail.

“Oh, my dear. Is it as bad as all that?”

I shrugged—as much as one can shrug while laying on their back. “You tell me.”

“Me? What have I got to do with your somber mood?” he asked, taking some item out of his jacket pocket and putting the end between his lips. The flash of a match catching followed, and he lit his cheroot, puffing on the tip as the flame took hold.

“Bloody everything!” Honestly, how could he be so daft? “I’ve been patient. I’ve waited days for you to summon me!”

He gazed down at me.

“Have you?”

I blinked. “Have I? Have I? You told me to—”

“Yes, but I never imagined you’d obey me with such willing complicity.”

“I—I—” I felt a fool. Except that he seemed inordinately pleased with me, and I couldn’t discount that. “Well, I did obey you. And my compliance didn’t come easy.”

We both zeroed in on the tent in my breeches.

“Oh, my darling. I’m very impressed.”

“I don’t want you to be impressed! I want you to stop ignoring me and give me leave to—to—”

“Give you leave to what?”

I thought about what to say. I pushed myself up from the deck, leaving the jug of rum on the boards, and leaned toward him. I put a desperate hand on his chest, thrilling to the warmth and strength of him. “Please, since I’ve been so very obedient, can’t I come to your rooms, Captain?”

He watched me silently, pulling on his cheroot and puffing smoke out in formed circles. Showing off. “Not tonight.”

I couldn’t believe he was still denying me. “You’re such a prick!” I said, spitting with venom and pulling my hand back from his chest. I drew my legs up from between the rails and stood, albeit a bit wobbly. “I’m going to take myself in hand then. I ain’t beholden to you no more, if you ain’t keeping up your end of the deal.”

“What, right this minute?”

“Aye,” I said, meaning every word. I was already undoing my trousers.

“No,” he said. “Wait.”

I didn’t want to. I was tired of waiting.

“Why should I?” I said, pushing down my breeches and taking my poor cock in hand. The relief was immediate, and I began to stroke myself back and forth. “Oh, thank fuck.”

I recalled that I had an audience and looked over at him.

He was watching me, his eyes sparking with interest and some annoyance, but he didn’t say anything as I pleasured myself. And I didn’t give a fuck what he thought at this point. I needed completion so desperately.

I put my free hand on the rail and doubled my efforts, the pleasure like a delicious wine that I’d saved for just the right moment. I held Captain Martin’s gaze as I worked myself, my breaths blending with the soft slap of the waves on the hull as the Arrow glided slowly forward.

“Stop.”

One word, uttered in a commanding tone by the man who was in charge of this ship and my life, as little as my existence mattered.

I stopped. I let go of myself as if my cock was a heated coal from a recent fire. I stuttered a broken gasp and had to clamp down hard on myself, or I would have spent into the air at the look on his face at that moment.

“Oh…fuck…” I cursed, trying to hold onto my control.

He watched me for a moment. Then his arm shot out, and he grabbed my breeches, pulling me over to where he sat. I didn’t know what was happening. I watched as he tossed his lit cheroot over the side of the ship, grabbed my hips and tugged me forward, his mouth covering my cock as I grasped the rail for purchase.

“Oh! Oh! Oooh…” were the only sounds I was able to make, besides gasps and choking noises as I went rigid and erupted down the captain’s throat. Fireworks exploded behind my closed eyes as the captain milked my eager cock. The culmination lasted forever, perhaps because of the length of my abstinence, or due to the way Captain Martin was sucking and licking and swallowing it all.

I leaned on the rail, gasping for breath as the ecstasy faded and, once again, the captain kept up his attention past the point of comfort. I tried to pull away but he held me fast, making a noise in his throat that sounded like a laugh.

“Oh,” I said again, breathless and spent. “Please. Please…stop…stop…”

He took pity on me and let my softening cock slide out of his mouth.

“Mmm” was all he said, licking his lips and swallowing my remaining spend.

“Bloody hell,” I cursed, tucking myself away in case anyone happened to come by. “What the fuck was that?” I gasped, my legs trembling with the relief of days of built-up tension.

“I believe the term for the act is ‘gamahuche’.”

I held up my hand and took a step back. “Yes, but why here? Why now?”

After all this time!

“I didn’t want your sweet essence to go to waste,” he said, using the tip of his finger to wipe some of the seed from the corner of his mouth. “Or to splatter the side of my lovely ship.”

I stared at him. He stared at me. Then I rolled my eyes.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I said and slid down to sit on the boards beside him. “You lost your cheroot.”

He gave me a devilish grin. “Your prick is much better than a cheroot.”

“Then why did you wait so long to come find me?”

“You know, I am a very busy man, Simon.” He fished in his pocket and brought out another cheroot, flourishing the thing at me before putting the tip between his lips.

I watched as he struck a match against his boot and lit the end, pulling the smoke into his lungs as he closed his eyes.

“I’m sure. But I was going mad!”

“Better now though?” he asked, as he opened his eyes and gazed into mine.

“Yes. Much.”

He blew smoke in my face. “I like you, Simon. But I need to decide if we should enjoy more time together.”

“I…thought I was going to be your cabin boy.”

“Perhaps you shall.”

“But…when will you know?”

“Hmm. Well, perhaps tomorrow. Or the next day.” He gazed down at me with blithe curiosity. “You’ll wait for me to decide, won’t you?”

I wanted to say no, I wouldn’t fucking wait for him. What kind of a mad fellow did he take me for? He could go fuck himself.

But what I said was “Yes.”

*

I barely lasted two more days as I waited on tenterhooks with my needs rising again. He hadn’t technically told me to keep my hands off myself, but I did—out of some misguided need to prove myself or prove I could obey. I tried to focus on the animals, and that did help, but they were hardly a distraction from my lustful thoughts of the captain.

Finally, I’d had enough.

The animals were my only solace. Perhaps they could be my salvation.

I glanced around to make sure nobody was nearby, then casually undid the knot in Lilith’s tie down.

“Oh, Lilith, look. Your rope’s come undone. You’re free.”

She didn’t move.

“Lilith. Don’t you want to run up on deck and cause mayhem?”

She grunted and chewed on the frayed end of the unbound rope.

“For fuck’s sake.”

I looked around again, then slapped her on her flank—not too hard, but enough to get her moving. She bleated with indignation and took off for the stairs to the deck.

I gave her a bit of a head start and then went after her.

“Oh, Lilith, you stupid bloody goat!” I grouched, so nobody would know I’d set her loose. “Not again!”

As I ran up the steps, curses and cries came from on deck from crew who’d been startled by Lilith’s mad dash for freedom.

“Sorry, sorry. Pardon me. Excuse me,” I said, dodging bodies as I chased her. As I ran, supposedly with steadfast intent, I tried to glean where the captain was. I hoped he would spot me.

“Mr White!”

The familiar voice and stern tone assaulted me with waves of delight and welcome alarm. I didn’t care how mad he was, he’d seen and acknowledged me. Hopefully, he’d recall our conversation in the moonlight.

I stopped dead, leaving the goat to careen past the yardarm, and turned toward him. The rays of the sun made a kind of a halo around him as I squinted and brought my hand up to shield my eyes.

“Yes, Captain?” I asked, hearing the first strains of “Amazing Grace” play in my head.

“Get that blasted goat, put her away, and come to my rooms. We need to discuss containment, and how to manage errant beasts.”

As he spoke those words, he gazed at me in a way that left no question as to which errant beast he was referring. A thrill passed through me and my cock filled. Again.

“Yes, Captain,” I said, with plenty of false humility. Inwardly, I was jubilant. My plan had worked.

“Duncan, grab that bloody goat! Take her downstairs and tie her up, for fuck’s sake. I need to teach White how to do a proper knot.”

“Aye, Captain.”

I made my way downstairs. Boone was outside Captain Martin’s rooms, as usual.

“You again,” he said.

“I’m afraid so.”

“He ain’t here.”

“He told me to meet him here. With some urgency, in fact.”

“In trouble again?”

“No doubt.” I said, grinning.

“Jesus, yer a prat. Well, you may as well go in, I suppose.”

He held his hand out toward me with the palm up.

I rolled my eyes and pulled out my knife, passing the weapon over.

“Had to use it yet?” he asked.

“A few times,” I said with mock gravity. “To get a second helping of potatoes.”

Boone almost smiled.

I opened the door and went into the captain’s rooms, for the second time. The quiet and peace of his quarters felt like a benediction. I wasn’t sure where I should wait for him. Should I strip naked and surprise him that way? But what if he brought someone with him? Perhaps disrobing was a tad risky.

Suppose he had ordered me here to tell me he’d changed his mind, and I wasn’t to be his cabin boy after all? I didn’t particularly want to have that conversation buck naked. I’d best hedge my bets and keep my clothes on, as malodorous as they were. I could always strip later as a calculated move to influence him.

Waiting was not an activity I did well. I soon became restless and then distracted by a large map of the world spread out on Captain Martin’s desk. There were pieces of wood in the shape of miniature boats, placed at various spots, as if he were preparing his fleet for an attack. They might have marked where they’d seen other ships, unless Captain Martin was still a navy officer who was pretending to be an ex-navy officer who was pretending to be a privateer-slash-pirate.

I was too clever to believe that. Although the story would make for a wonderful and thrilling adventure novel.

The tiny wooden boats were so fine. I picked up one to examine it, noting the detail and the workmanship, and that the map must have a magnet beneath it and each of the figures as well, as the wee sailboat needed more force to pick up than I’d expected. When I went to put it back, I couldn’t remember the exact spot the miniature boat had been in. I frowned, my gaze traversing the map and wondering how much time I had until the captain—

Booted footsteps sounded outside. Then a familiar drawl.

“Is White here?”

“Aye, Captain. He’s inside.”

Well, blast. I frantically tried to remember where the little boat had been, hovering my hand over the map.

“I’ll take the knife,” Captain Martin said. “There’s no need to confiscate his blade again. He’ll do me no harm.”

But how could he be so sure? He obviously wasn’t afraid of me in the least. And he was right, I’d ne’er harm him. Not with a knife. He already knew to be wary of tankards of ale.

“Aye, Cap’n,” Boone replied.

I closed my eyes and placed the miniature boat down in a random spot, hoping he wouldn’t notice, and turned around as the door opened.

“Oh, hello,” I said, putting my hands behind my back and smiling with the pretense of innocence.

Captain Martin frowned. “What have you done?”

“I—beg your pardon? What do you mean? I just got here,” I said, unable to keep from glancing at the map. And I knew right away I’d made a mistake. Captain Martin was astute and not easily deceived.

“Simon Bartholomew White. Did you touch my charts?”

I stuttered a laugh. “Of course not. Why would I do that?”

“Move.”

I closed my eyes in defeat and moved to the side, muttering a curse.

He went past me and examined the map. He immediately found the miniature that I’d put back in the wrong place and picked the tiny object up.

“You’re lucky that I, at least, remember where this goes,” he said, putting the small boat in a different spot and eying me with disapproval.

“Yes, Captain,” I grunted, adjusting my stand in the fabric of my trousers, which proved the wrong move.

“You need to learn to keep your hands to yourself, Simon,” he said. “And I know just how to teach you.”

My eyes went wide.

Captain Martin smiled with the expression of a man who was about to lay into a holiday feast. “Now, where’s the rope.”

Rope? My cock jerked.

And he knew exactly where the rope was. He strode over to a chest of drawers, tugged open the bottom drawer, and pulled out a rolled up length of black rope and tossed it onto the bed. The coil landed with a soft thud.

“What are you going to do?” I asked, my brain short-circuiting as I imagined all the possibilities.

“I’m going to tie you up and fuck you, Simon,” he said, in a manner he might use to say he was going to dip down to the galley and grab us a snack.

I swallowed, feeling a thrill all through my body.

“Do you consent?” he asked, with a hopeful expression.

“Consent? To what you just said, you mean?”

Captain Martin walked up to me and stood so close I could see the pores of his unblemished skin and smell the manly scent of him. His eyes were pools of heat and desire.

“Do you consent to being tied up and fucked, Simon? Contrary to what you might think, I don’t like to force myself on other men.”

I wanted to say, ‘Of course, let’s get started.’ But, instead, I crossed my arms over my chest and said, “Well…I suppose so.” I didn’t want to appear too eager. “If you must.”

Captain Martin smiled and crossed his arms. “Not good enough. Perhaps you should go.”

“Oh!” I exclaimed, uncrossing mine. “You see, what I meant to say was ‘yes, Captain’.”

He waited.

“I consent,” I finished, making my willingness abundantly clear.

“All right. Now tell me what you consent to , Simon Bartholomew White.”

I cleared my throat, heat rushing into my cheeks. “To being tied up and fucked, sir.”

“Excellent. Now take those nasty rags off, so I can have them tossed over the side of this ship. Hopefully, that doesn’t kill half the sea life nearby.”

That was a low blow but, no doubt, a reasonable concern.

“Yes, Captain.”

Once I was naked, Captain Martin took charge like we were going into battle. Perhaps that’s how he thought of this sort of thing.

“Now lean over and hold your calves. Spread your legs.”

Well, he was getting right to business. Since I’d had to wait so long for this much-anticipated private interview, I didn’t exactly mind.

I blushed with humiliation, but a giddy sense of excitement filled me as I obeyed.

The captain was silent.

I craned my neck, my dirty hair falling over my eyes. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” he said, placing a hand on one cheek and spreading me. “I didn’t expect you to be so clean. Have you been washing?”

Pride and relief filled me. “Aye. With a cloth and water each morning.”

He smoothed a thumb down my crack, making me shiver.

“That’s very commendable and appreciated.”

“I did it for you,” I admitted.

“For me? Not for yourself?”

“Well…it did feel good to be clean, in general, or as clean as I could manage. But my endeavours were in case of exactly this circumstance, really,” I admitted, gesturing to my nakedness.

He smiled. “I was going to clean you off again, but there’s no need. I’ll arrange a proper bath for you later, so you can do something about your hair.”

“You are so kind,” I said, with a sarcastic lilt to my voice. I felt rather insulted, even though I did look forward to bathing, particularly if the captain planned to watch.

“You can stand up now.”

I did and turned to face him.

“That brings me to my next point. If it’s kindness you’re after in terms of intimacy, I’m afraid I’m not your man.” His gaze pierced me with a brutal and frank level of honesty. “I like the men I fuck to be restrained, as you will see, and I’m not the most gentle of lovers.”

A shudder wracked me.

I nodded. “Well, it just so happens, Captain Martin, that I’m rather fond of a man who knows what he wants…and isn’t afraid to take the pleasure.”

He smiled, as if he’d just been given an unexpected gift, and held my gaze. The sexual tension felt thick in the air between us.

“I should give you a word, in case you need me to stop whatever I’m doing. In case I’m being rougher than you like.”

“Fair,” I said, finding breathing to be difficult. I glanced at the rope on the bed.

“Good. I don’t actually want to harm you. I do find, though, that a bit of…controlled pain…is inflaming to some … ” He looked at me as the tip of his tongue traced his bottom lip, and his eyebrows lifted in a silent question.

“Aye,” I said breathlessly.

“Do you like a bit of pain, Simon?”

“I like to be manhandled. Beyond that, I have yet to explore,” I admitted.

He smiled slyly. “Well, I have some experience in this area. And I’d like to explore that with you, if you’re willing.”

“Aye. As long as I have a stop word.”

“So you aren’t completely new to this sort of play between men, are you? Would you like to choose one?”

“Cribbage,” I said without preamble.

“Beg pardon? Did you say ‘cribbage’?”

“Aye. Horrid game. Makes me want to pluck my eyes out.”

He tried not to laugh and barely succeeded.

“Very well. If you utter the word, I stop whatever I’m doing and untie you.”

“Oh. So I’m only to use my word if I want everything to stop?”

He chuckled. “You sound disappointed. Oh, Simon, I believe we’re going to get along very well.”

“I’m just thinking that I might have to slow you down or stop you, but I might not want to stop everything . Is that an option?”

“Of course. Let’s leave it open, shall we?”

“Aye.”

“Now go lay on the bed, on your back, and spread your arms and legs like a starfish.”

He tied my wrists to the carved posts of the bed frame, then folded my legs over my belly and fastened my ankles over my head.

“This is quite…undignified,” I commented, feeling well-displayed and expertly captured.

“Mmm,” he agreed, gazing at me with more than a twinkle in his eye.

I focused on breathing through my nose, my eyes on him, waiting for what he might do next. He had me at his mercy, and yet I’d never felt so free.

I watched as he walked to the drawer that he’d left open and took out what looked like a leather riding crop, returning to me with a look of mischief and excitement in his eyes.

I stiffened as if I might try to escape.

“Now, don’t worry. I know how to use this.”

“Are you an equestrian?” I asked rhetorically.

He had the grace to laugh. “Oh no. I meant that I know how to use this on you , Mr White.”

“Now, remember, I’ve never ever—” I began but was startled when he ran the folded leather tip of the crop over the sole of my foot.

“Ah!” I cried out, trying ineffectively to pull away.

“Oh yes. We’ll start this way.”

“Oh, no, no, no…please, no,” I begged, squirming and writhing as I tried without success to get away. Propitious that he’d given me a word, because despite my frantic struggles and the instinctive protests against the tickling strokes, I didn’t truly want him to stop.

I didn’t say the word, even though I didn’t know how much more of this torment I could take. And he hadn’t even gone near my prick yet. All the same, my cock stood hard and leaking from his blatant control and sadistic goals. Pain I could have dealt with but the tickling was too much.

But I had waited so long to get into the captain’s rooms and his graces, so I did my best to persevere, even though I hiccupped with sobs by the time he took pity on me and stopped. A humiliating and sobering turn of events.

“And I haven’t even struck you yet,” he said with a level of glee that left me no doubt about where this was going.

I’d barely let out a squeak of indignation when I felt the first swipe of the crop against my bare arse.

“My goodness, but you are perfect, Simon,” he said, laying into my lily-white arse with a smug determination. The sounds of the crop slicing the air and landing with a snap filled my ears, followed by a sting so sharp the pain made me gasp.

“Oh, fuck…am I? Oh…ow, ow, stop, fuck! Captain, Captain, Captain!”

He paused. “Yes, White?”

His address took me by surprise.

“For fuck’s sake, ain’t we on a first name basis by now?” I asked from my captivity, my limbs trembling from the intensity.

He only laughed and continued with his treatment until I moaned in anguish.

“Do you need me to stop?” he asked.

I was making pitiful sounds and my answer should have been yes. But even though my arse was singing with pain, a warm glow had lit me up inside, and I couldn’t say my stop word.

“Never mind, I’m done.” He tossed the crop to the side and started undoing his trousers as my eyes went wide. “With the crop, at least.”

My gaze zeroed in on his scepter of a cock as he pushed his breeches down and took the monster in hand.

“Do you want this?”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

“Do you like the ropes?”

“Yes!”

“All right, then.”

With his trousers still carelessly around his thighs, Captain Martin, with whom I apparently wasn’t on a first-name basis and didn’t mind at all, kneeled on the bed, took some grease from a conveniently placed bowl, and slicked his prick up with a stolid determination. Then he leaned forward, positioned himself, and sank into me like a churn into soft butter.

“Good God,” he breathed as he settled into me.

I whimpered at the incredible sensation of finally getting Captain Martin’s cock into me.

“Aye” was all I could say as he started to move, causing my eyes to roll back in my head. It had been a while since I’d been fucked, to be honest, and I’d been hankering after this man for weeks. Ever since he’d held a gun to my head in the Penny Whistle, of all things. Well, perhaps before that, but the threat of violence upon my person had sealed the deal. Call me mad, for I was.

I wrapped my fingers around the ropes and held on as he began to thrust. He was practised, for certain, and varied his motions between long, slow thrusts and quick, hard ones. By the time he spilled with a low groan, I was a writhing mess of desperate need.

“Captain… Captain,” I panted, for I’d not reached my completion as of yet.

“Mmm,” he grunted, continuing to push into me with a lackadaisical enjoyment and a self-satisfied smile. But those motions weren’t enough to push me over the edge.

“Please!” I begged, squirming beneath him so he could feel the hot brand of my prick against him. “Oh, please!”

The smile that spread over his face as he gazed upon me was everything. There was fondness and affection and pride.

“Watching you beg, Simon… Why, it’s the best thing I’ve seen in a very long time.”

“Now we’re on a first name basis?” I asked, my voice shrill with desperation. I was strung on a tight wire of coiled tension.

“Perhaps. Although I like it when you call me captain, and I’m not particularly fond of my given name.”

“Oh,” I said. “Well, then, Captain. Will you…please, please, please…help me?”

He didn’t answer me, only smiled. All I could do was whimper. I was past the point of coherent desire. I needed to finish so badly, and I was terrified that he didn’t even care. Or that he would enjoy frustrating me more than pleasing me.

He pulled out with a sigh, then spent too long playing with my hole and his seed, pushing it in and dragging the spunk out with his fingers.

“I could do this all day, Simon White. Perhaps I will.” He leaned over me to whisper in my ear, still fiddling with my slippery hole. “I’ll plug you to keep all that sweet stuff inside, and you’ll have to go the entire night full of my essence.”

I moaned, heady with the idea.

The captain chuckled and backed off, gaze fixing on where his fingers danced and delved, the filthy bastard.

“Of course, I’d have to clean you out first, with a hose and water. And you wouldn’t be able to eat anything.” He clicked his tongue and sighed. “Oh, what a time we’ll have.”

I made the most pitiful sound and rolled my head from side to side. Couldn’t he see the state of me? Wouldn’t he let me have some satisfaction?

He laughed. “But that sort of thing takes planning. So instead, I’m going to make you spend all over yourself, my pretty lad. These ropes have you in the perfect position.”

He slipped his fingers back in and petted that tender spot until I writhed even more pitifully. Then he wrapped his other hand around my cock and stroked until I convulsed and screamed, spraying my belly and chest. I cursed him as he fondled my oversensitive bits with the cruelty of a true sadist.

He unbound me, told me to stay put, then left me tangled and ruined in his bedsheets.

My mind spun with everything that had occurred, and my body ached in all the right places. I lolled in the soft sheets and may have drifted off.

The clang of metal woke me, and I looked up to see two crew members hauling a large tin tub through the doors. I clutched the sheet as I sat up, ready to make a run for cover.

“Are you that scared of a bath, White?” the captain asked, his lip curled with amusement. He turned to the men. “Put the tub by the window.”

Captain Martin was seated in the chair at his desk, holding a pen in his broad hand and gazing at me with fondness. He was wearing his trousers and shirt with a patterned robe overtop, held closed with a loosely knotted sash.

I recognized the men but didn’t truly know them. They didn’t appear concerned to find me naked in the captain’s bed. I wasn’t sure what to make of that.

After they left, another two fellows came in with pails of steaming water. They emptied one after the other into the tub.

“Thank you, Peters,” Captain Martin said.

“Aye. And Lin will bring the clothes,” he said. “Will that be all?”

“Yes, thank you. Now leave us.”

“Aye, Cap’n,” Peters said, glancing at me without any obvious contempt before he left.

I gazed contemplatively at the closed door.

“Do they know, then?”

“Hmm?” Captain Martin said, watching me with a sedate contemplation. “Know what?”

I tossed the sheet aside and got out of bed, trying to look seductive. I yawned and scratched an itch on my thigh. Then grinned.

“That you like to leave your seed inside other men until it trickles out in tiny bits and makes their thighs wet.”

He gazed at me with a blatant hunger.

“Are your lovely thighs wet with my seed, Simon White?”

“Well, it’s dried now and gone tacky.”

“Well, then,” he said with a satisfied nod. “Into the tub with you.”

I swallowed, desire rising in me again. “Yes, Captain.

He stood, removed his robe, and settled on the edge of his bed, and watched me step gingerly into the hot water. The metal tub was only about half full and appeared barely large enough to sit in with my knees bent.

“It’s not going to bite you. Get in.”

“The water’s hot.”

“For heaven’s sake.”

I stepped into the bath with some care, then lowered myself down, hissing as my skin came into contact with the scalding water. I tried to remember the last time I’d had a proper bath.

For all that the tub was small and not completely full, this was a luxury I’d never imagined to find aboard a ship like the Arrow .

“Blimey, you got a fire going on a wooden ship? Ain’t that a tad risky?”

“There’s a proper stove in the galley, with safety modifications. Did you wonder how your food was cooked?”

“Now that you mention it, no.” I shrugged.

“Here,” Captain Martin said, tossing me a bar of soap. My hands went up instinctively, and I did catch the object; however, the thing slipped through my fingers and into the water with a splash.

“Blast,” I said.

“Simon White, is there anything you’re good at?”

I searched for the errant bar of soap, found the slippery thing, and brought it above the water’s surface with a triumphant smile.

“Answer my question.”

“Well, Captain, my tongue is a weapon I’m very proud of. And I’ve a practiced skill at cocksucking.”

“Mmm. I’ll put you to the test when you’re finished in there.”

Well, then.

“Are you good at following orders, I wonder?”

“Depends who’s giving them.”

“Stand up.”

I stared at him as he sat on the edge of his bed in his black breeches and boots and white shirt, like some kind of deposed king or prince. I didn’t want to defy him, but now that I was enveloped in cozy warmth, I didn’t want to leave that comfort.

“But, I only just—”

“So, no .” He rolled his eyes. “Stand up, Mr White. I want to see you.”

I stared at him for a moment, deliberating if I should do as he asked. Since I was in his rooms, and he’d been the one to treat me to the luxury of a soak, and since I did have a stake in seducing the man, I stood, clutching the bar of soap to my dripping chest. The water sluiced off me, as the cool air of the cabin brought bumps to the surface of my skin.

“You are absolutely filthy,” the captain murmured as if he were speaking words of endearment to a treasured concubine. “The sludge is literally running off of you.”

The intimate tone of his voice, and the reference to the state of both my body and my thoughts, frankly gave me a heady, lustful feeling.

I frowned. “But…I’ve been washing! Every day, even. I told you.”

“And while I commend you for doing so, I’m afraid a proper bath is needed to deal with months of bad habits.”

“Bad habits! I was clean when I came to Port Royal, I can tell you. Then I was robbed and almost killed at knifepoint. I was destitute for weeks. The last thing on my mind was a bloody bath.”

“Well. It’s a good thing you’re here, then.”

I couldn’t argue with that.

“Aye.”

“Now, my filthy fellow, I want you to rub that bar of soap all over yourself. And, I do mean everywhere .”

A jolt of desire travelled throughout my entire body.

“Yes, Captain,” I said, and proceeded to do as he wished, slipping the soap under my arms, between my legs, and wherever I could reach. I held his gaze as I bent over and reached behind me, sliding the slippery bar between my arse cheeks. “Only, I can’t see if I’m getting my hole clean enough.”

My voice was hoarse and my breaths quick, as I dangled that little lure before him.

The captain was on his feet and coming over.

“Give it to me,” he said, his voice a deep raspy thing that thrilled me.

I passed him the soap, my heart pounding, and my scrubbed cock thickening at the look of purpose in his eyes.

“Bend over and hold the side. Spread your legs.”

I did, the water sloshing over the metal edge. I should have been cold, but the heat of my passion kept me warm.

“Good man. I see you can be obedient in some circumstances. Now stay still.”

I gasped as he used his free hand to spread me apart, and the other to swipe the soap along my cleft in a way that made me shudder and moan. Then he pressed the piece of soap to my fresh-cleaned hole and teased the rounded tip back and forth, whilst I tried not to give away how much I liked the sensation.

“Look at your greedy little hole. So hungry.”

His words excited me. I spread my legs wider.

“This is the finest castile soap, I’ll have you know. Very expensive.”

“Yes, Captain.” I said. “Are you certain you want to use such a fancy thing on my arse?”

“Oh yes. Nothing is too good for this beautiful, luscious flesh of yours, Simon. Don’t undervalue yourself.”

“Oh…well…thank you, Captain,” I said, genuinely bewildered and flattered at his comments.

“I had a naughty thought. And you needn’t worry, as this soap is made from the most benign ingredients and won’t harm you in the least.”

Harm me?

The tip of the hard bar pressed against my hole, and the captain rubbed back and forth with a steady and concentrated pressure, teasing me open. When I realized what was about to happen, a hot spike of heat flooded me.

Captain Martin, the tricky bugger, pushed the slick piece of soap right up my greedy arse.

“Oh, fuck,” I whispered.

I was astonished at the turn of his profane mind. To think of a plan like this and then calmly and deliberately take action, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world to slide a bar of expensive Castile soap up another man’s arse, was…diabolical and dirty in a way that went straight to my heart. Not many people surprised me anymore, so when someone did, it felt like the most welcome discovery—especially when the substance of the revelation fed into my own perversions with such exactness.

The slick bar filled my gut, the way the feeling of connection and acceptance filled my soul. Here was a man after my own strange predilections, who might prove to have the very same ones, truth be told. This scandalous pirate captain, or privateer, whatever he was, who’d brought me onto his ship and into his bed, had exceeded all my expectations.

“Mmm,” Captain Martin hummed, nudging the object further with his fingers.

“But…” I groaned, even though I loved everything about this. “Won’t it get stuck?”

“Oh, I’m not worried,” the captain said, rubbing the outer edges of my arsehole with a determined efficiency.

Easy for him to say.

“Oooh,” I moaned, feeling a wee bit scared but excited at the same time and so heated I thought I might light myself on fire. “Please…”

“Please what, Simon White?”

“Help…me?” I didn’t know quite what I was asking for. The reassurance that the bar would come out, perhaps? But did I really want that, when the soap felt so good in its present location?

Captain Martin sighed. “All right then. Up.”

“Stand up?”

“Yes.”

I straightened, which made the object feel bigger than ever.

“Push the damn thing out, if you’re so worried about the situation,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest, his solid prick a distinct outline in his breeches.

“P-pardon?”

“If you can take a shit, you can expel a bar of soap. It should slide right out.”

Those words and the very idea of taking a shit worked to cause me to bear down out of pure instinct.

And Captain Martin was right, it didn’t take much effort at all. But the pleasure as the thing exited my body and sploshed into the bathwater made me blush with shame.

“See?” he said, a little bit breathlessly.

“Aye,” I sighed. “Jesus.”

I almost didn’t want to meet his gaze, but when I did, the fire in his eyes made plain his feeling about what we were doing. I wrapped a hand around my cock, giving it a pull.

“Hands off. That pretty prick is mine. Leave it be.”

“Yes, Captain,” I said, shuddering with pleasure.

He fished the soap out of the water and made me bend over again.

I stared at my wavy reflection in the water, as Captain Martin played with that bar of soap and my arse, shoving it in and having me squirt it out, for his amusement—and mine, of course. I’d never felt more like an object at the hands of…well, anyone…and the feeling of being owned and enjoyed made me giddy, to be frank. I’d never claimed to be a regular fellow. There really was no explaining this strange feeling, but I didn’t want to question the sentiment anymore.

Somehow, Captain Martin understood me, and fed me his own strangeness in actions that were quite welcome and exquisitely thrilling.

“I think I must be all cleaned out,” I said, with a laugh.

“Hmm. Can’t ever be too careful.”

He continued to play with me, until the bar of soap was a tiny sliver of its former shape.

“There we go. That should do the job.”

“I reckon,” I agreed, dazed and impressed.

“Now sit down and lean your head back.”

Even though I’d not known him long, the captain’s voice already felt like a siren’s lure, and I succumbed to his demands without thought. I expected him to take down his trousers, and slide his cock into my mouth. Instead, he helped me to wet my hair, then used another bar of his fine soap to lather up the greasy strands.

“Just how red is your hair under all this grime, Simon Bartholomew White?”

“Quite a bright hue, when not full of shit,” I said.

“I certainly hope you don’t mean actual shit.”

His deep voice rumbled pleasantly as he massaged my scalp. I closed my eyes, enjoying the care he was giving me.

“Well, you never know,” I admitted.

I was rewarded with the captain’s soft laughter.

“Up now.”

I stood but wobbled as if I were coming out of a trance. His gentle touch had lulled me into laziness. Then Captain Martin poured clean, cold water from another jug over me.

“Jesus! That’s bloody cold,” I gasped.

“Don’t want you to get soft with all this pampering,” Captain Martin said. “I plan to use you well, and I’m not always gentle.” He tilted his head, considering. “In fact, I’m not often kind when I have a willing man beneath me.”

I blinked silently in bewildered awe. Had I created Captain Martin from my own perverse dreams?

His gaze was running over me as if I looked completely different now.

“What?” I asked, starting to feel a bit cold.

He passed me a linen cloth.

“Your hair is quite red, as you say. And there’s not a part of you that’s not covered in brown freckles, except for…” he gestured at my scar. “Well, that and your pretty cock. You look like a randy little rooster.”

I gazed down at myself. He was right. I’d been called rooster before, but never with so much affection. And nobody had ever called my cock pretty.

“Dry off, if you please. Then, if you’re so inclined, you can give me a demonstration of your one and only skill.”

I should have known.

I swiped the water from my skin whilst Captain Martin disrobed. I tried not to stare at his beautifully masculine form but lost that battle.

He cocked his head at me. “When did you last have a haircut?”

“Quite a while ago. And not a very good one, as you can see.”

“Would you allow me? I have shears and…well, not to be cruel but it’s rather a disaster.”

Well, this was a surprise.

“I suppose so. But not too short. I like it long-ish around my ears.”

Quite a strange idea to let a naked man throw a towel over my shoulders, sit me in a chair, and take a pair of sharp scissors to my damp locks. I was nervous that he would make a mess of the task, not that he really could make my hair any worse.

When he’d finished, he put the shears down, ruffled my hair with a hand and passed me a looking glass.

The man who stared back at me was unfamiliar, but I liked the look of him. He’d left the length of my hair mostly alone, but he’d trimmed sections in a layered fashion to lessen its shapeless bulk. Feathery bits of copper framed my face and fell around my ears.

“Well?”

“Thank you. I like what you’ve done.”

I tilted my head and angled it so that I could see a bit of the hair at the side and back. He’d trimmed the edges that sat against my neck and they reminded me of the fronds of ferns. It looked…much improved.

“Thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome. I can see your face better now. Your eyes look even more blue.”

He gathered the towel off my shoulders, keeping all the bits of hair inside, and used a clean cloth to wipe my neck where the towel hadn’t kept the bits of hair off.

“How did you learn to do that?” I asked.

“Oh, I have a great many talents,” he said with a sly wink.

He lit some oil lamps since the sun was going down on another day, and the cabin filled with soft light. And now I could see him better.

The captain truly was a fine example of a man. Just enough muscle to win in a fight, with a lithe, feline grace of movement, and a majestic aspect that made me want to kneel.

He sat on the edge of the mattress, took himself in hand, and beckoned me.

“Come now. Impress me.”

He held my gaze as I dropped the towel to the floor.

“You really are quite lovely under all that dirt. Such a pretty little rooster,” he said, his tone relaxed and contemplative.

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to reveal how touched I was at those words. It had been a long time since anyone had been so gracious to me.

“Do you think so?”

“Simon, you wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t found you charming, even in your previously neglected state,” he said with a refreshing directness. “But now you’re quite pretty.”

“Pretty! I ain’t no lass.”

He grinned. “Thank heavens. But you’re as lovely as one.”

“I’m not. Truly, Captain, I think your brain is addled.”

He quirked the corner of his lips. “Quite likely. At any rate, your beauty is secondary to your skills at the moment,” he said with a pragmatic inflection that made me desperate to please him. “Get to work.”

“Yes, Captain.”

I crawled over the bed to him, then met his gaze as I took his offered prick into my mouth and swallowed him down in one movement.

He gasped, stuttered, then cursed.

I drew off him and grinned.

“Again?” I asked.

He blinked. “Again.”

This time, he let out a deep groan and closed his eyes.

“All right. That’s good. That’s very good.”

“More?”

“More.”

I fellated him, using my best techniques, for a short time, enjoying the noises and sounds he made—soft sighs, gasps, and moans.

He grabbed a fistful of my hair.

“Ow!” The word was muffled by his swollen appendage.

“Stop messing about and get me off,” he ordered, his tone desperate and firm.

“Uh-huh,” I grunted, knowing the vibrations of my words were making him crazy.

I splayed my hands on his powerful thighs and got to work, licking and slurping and swallowing that club of a cock like my life depended on the task.

Perhaps there was truth to that idea. If I could please Captain Martin and show him my intrinsic value, even if only as a cock slut and bed warmer, then perhaps I could gain a permanent place on the Arrow and not be tossed off at the next landing.

The captain groaned, one hand on my head, watching me with heavy-lidded eyes and a perverted fascination.

“Christ. Christ. Christ,” he muttered.

But I was barely watching him. My focus was my mouth, my throat, and that solid baton of his. I made fucking love to his prick with my whole heart.

“Oh! God! Simon!” he grunted, his fingers tightening in my hair, tugging just enough to make my own cock throb. He erupted, his seed streaming down my willing throat, as he groaned with the ecstasy of a sudden and substantial release.

He held me still and only let me go when I started coughing and sputtering. He pulled himself out and gave me a little slap on the cheek.

“Well done,” he sighed. “That was quite satisfactory.”

I gasped for breath. “ Quite satisfactory ?”

The nerve of him!

His face was full of amusement, and my anger died in a moment.

“Get under the covers, Rooster. You’re bunking with me.”

“Yes, Captain,” I said, charmed by the nickname he’d given me.

“And, Rooster?”

“Yes?”

“Based on your wonderful performance as a soap depository and the skills you’ve recently demonstrated so”—his eyes twinkled—“satisfactorily…”

I frowned.

He continued, “I’ve made the perhaps rash decision to claim you as my own.”

“Your own? But what does that mean? Do I get a say in it?”

“Of course you do. Despite having a questionable means of employment, I’m not a scoundrel.” He examined me with much thought. “What say you?”

“To what exactly? You haven’t explained.”

“To being my cabin boy and my housekeeper and my willing catchment when I’ve need of one.”

“How fucking romantic.”

He laughed.

“I’m not trying to seduce you, Rooster. I want to fuck you. And I want to play with you. And I want to own you, in a manner of speaking,” he stated. “In return, you get to live here, in my rooms, and enjoy all the luxuries you see around you, on a daily basis.” He smirked as a tinge of pink crested his cheeks. “Well, at least on those occasions that you don’t have a broom in your hand or my cock up your arse.”

A testament to how much I wanted him that I disregarded the broom comment.

“Well, in that case—”

He held up his hand.

“ But. If I catch wind of you offering your talents to any of the other men without my express permission or command, I will put you over the yardarm and whip you raw in front of them all.”

My eyes went wide. “Truly?” I asked in an alarmed whisper.

“Perhaps not. But I will be sorely disappointed.”

“Then, yes, I agree.”

“You must speak the words to seal the deal.”

I rolled my eyes. “I agree…to be your cabin boy and—” I’m going to regret this part . “—housekeeper,” But not this part . “—and your willing catchment. Satisfied?”

“Oh, Rooster. I’m positive that I will be extremely satisfied with this arrangement.”

Dear God, what had I just signed up for?

“And I hope that you will find some pleasure in being my devoted houseboy and fucktoy.” He grinned, as if that really was beside the point.

I tried not to combust into an explosion of frustrated desire.

The captain gave me one of his shirts to wear and put on his embroidered robe. Then he had a few words with Boone—probably trying to convince him that anything he might have heard from this room had been a delusion of his own imagination. Then again, I had the feeling Captain Martin didn’t give a damn who knew what he got up to in his quarters.

The men came and removed the tub, then Mr Guthrie brought in some dinner for both of us—a tray with steaming plates of beef and chicken in a thick and savoury broth, which he put on the small table by the window and left.

I was halfway through mine when I realized…

“Hold on. This is chicken,” I said, as the revelation hit me.

“Very good. I thought you only had one talent.”

“Is this…one of mine ?”

The captain looked at me strangely. “What do you mean?”

I put my fork down and stared at the meat on my plate. “Oh my God,” I whispered in horror. “He killed one of my chickens!”

Captain Martin looked astonished for a moment. Then his expression turned to amusement. He laughed as if I’d told an amusing joke.

I scowled.

“Rooster,” he said, smiling at the nickname that fit even more now. “That’s what they’re for.”

“I thought you wanted fresh eggs!” I said, blinking back tears. “If I’d known they were to eat, I wouldn’t have given them all fucking names!”

He sobered, but with some difficulty. “You don’t mean to say that you named the chickens?”

I shrugged, a little embarrassed, but more horrified, at the situation. “I thought it a good way to make friends with them. I named the goats too, but that didn’t work out as well.” I gaped at him. “Will they kill the goats too?”

“Eventually,” Captain Martin said.

“But…but…”

I thought about Lilith and Monty and Gordon.

“Finish your stew, Rooster. You’ve had a long day.”

I crossed my arms. “No thank you. And, anyway, where did the beef come from? Is there a herd of fucking cattle somewhere?”

Captain Martin shook his head. “Just how large do you think this vessel is?”

“The beef. Where did it come from?”

“We looted it, like the goats and chickens. But the beef was already dead and butchered.”

“Oh.”

Captain Martin gazed at me with a tender expression. “Did you really name the chickens?” he asked.

I sniffed, overcome with emotion at the thought of the pretty hens. “Yes.”

“What were their names?” he asked.

“Gladys. And Annie. Stefanie.” My voice got rougher as I spoke because I didn’t know who I’d eaten. “Elizabeth.”

“Elizabeth!” he snorted.

I glared at him. “Frances. Mildred. And…Guinevere.”

His eyes sparkled with amusement as he covered his mouth, presumably to hide a traitorous smile.

I wanted to kill him. Huge cock and commanding attitude aside, he’d colluded in murder.

“Simon,” he said. “I’m so sorry. But we have to eat.”

This was true, and meat was prized above all else. I couldn’t blame the cook, in truth. But I wish I’d fucking known.

I nodded, too upset to speak and too tired to argue.

“Perhaps we should go to bed.”

I felt as if the hot bath, the food, and the shocking revelation about my chooks had depleted me of everything I’d had left.

“Yes, Captain,” I said. I walked to the bed and climbed under the covers, curling my body around a pillow and staring at the planked wall. I listened as the captain took the wooden tray with the dirty dishware and placed it in the hall, then closed and locked the door. He turned down the lamps and blessed darkness filled the space. I felt the mattress dip as he crawled under the sheets with me.

He sighed and pushed a stray hair off my forehead.

“Simon Bartholomew White. My charming little rooster. What am I going to do with you?”

“What haven’t you done already?” I asked.

“I’ve barely started,” he said and scooped me into his arms, pulling my naked body against his and kissing me below the ear. “Go to sleep now. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

The creaking of the hull and the softness of the mattress, as well as the deep breathing of the pirate captain, lulled me into the depths of slumber.