Page 6

Houseboy

I t took me the larger part of three hours to tidy and dust the captain’s quarters. Why so long, you ask? Well, Captain Martin had decided that his rooms needed a thorough going-over if I were to receive my own later in the day. He’d given me very specific instructions as to how he wanted the rooms attended to, including the implements that I was to use to achieve my ends. Boone knew where all the supplies were, and I wondered if he’d had this duty before I’d taken over. He gave me some clean linen rags for dusting broad surfaces, a painter’s brush for dealing with cracks and crevices, and a push broom for sweeping, although I eyed the bristles with more lascivious thoughts for a moment.

The task of cleaning the captain’s quarters turned out to be a less onerous job than I’d expected and a good way to acquaint myself with the contents of the room, which were varied and fascinating. The furniture—a mahogany desk and dresser, straight chair, and the carved bed frame, were high-quality pieces, especially for the sorts of men on the Arrow . Not that I was an expert on privateering vessels, but I had heard them to be sparse and utilitarian. However, if the Arrow had originally been a navy frigate, the captain’s quarters would have been well fitted up, and it didn’t look like they’d changed that.

There was a large spyglass on a stand by the window, and I took a moment to peer through the eyepiece. What wonderful luck if I’d spotted a ship or an island in the distance. But there was only a huge span of water, which should have given me comfort.

We’d yet to come into battle, and although an exciting prospect, I was terrified of having to expose myself to cannon fire and swordplay, not to mention small arms fire. I wasn’t particularly practiced in the art of hand-to-hand combat, although I was good one-to-one with my fists and my dagger.

Truth be told, my best weapon was my tongue, and I didn’t mean in the bedroom. I’d flattened many opponents with one or two barbed insults in my time. Confidence, mostly, and giving them a look down the nose so they felt inferior, even if only a ruse. I could indeed be a hellcat when I chose to be, but I didn’t know if that would be helpful in a massive skirmish. Likely be too chaotic all around to get any good insults in, and the men we’d be fighting might not even speak English.

Basically, unless I came under protection of the captain or some of the crew, or hid away during the battle, I would almost certainly end up killed. Which was why my outlook on my life lately had more of a carpé diem theme. See? I did know a bit of Latin. I was better educated than most folks expected, thanks to my mother.

I tried not to worry about future skirmishes as I dusted the captain’s desk, as best I could manage without moving the gigantic map and all of his things about. Next time, I’d tell him if he wanted me to do a good job of my cleaning, he should tidy up first. I wondered how that might go over. Probably a bit like this:

Me: “Oy, mate, you got to clean your stuff up if you want me to dust properly.”

Captain Martin: “That’s some cheek, you mongrel. Off the plank with you. But first, let me shove a bar of soap up your saucy arse.”

Perhaps that was a better death than being skewered by a cutlass.

I finished the dusting, and I had to admit the place looked better. If I was going to be staying here, it was in my own interests to keep the place in good standing. I hadn’t had such fine accommodations in my life so found the captain’s quarters quite luxurious and exciting, above and beyond the thrill of Captain Martin’s sexual interest in me and our exploits between the sheets.

I straightened the pillows and pulled the coverlet over the sheets that we’d stained with our lust, picturing everything that had happened between us as I looked forward to another evening of debauchery.

I headed to a door on the back wall of the cabin just past the bed, which I’d supposed led to a massive closet holding all of the captain’s fine clothing. Instead, it opened on a large dining cabin with a table, around which a number of people could sit. Made sense for a navy vessel to have a room for secret conferences and battle plans and surely proved as useful for a privateer captain. Besides Donatello, there were several senior crew members involved in the daily running of the Arrow , and I imagined the captain held meetings here when needed. Perhaps on special occasions, such as after a fortuitous raid, the captain hosted fancy dinners here.

Mr Guthrie was proud to provide even the lowest crew members with tasty and nutritious meals. Presumably the officers dined on fare even more fine than I’d sampled so far. His breakfast had consisted of bread, jam, cheese, and a ripe mango, with a tankard of ale to wash the meal down.

The crew didn’t get a proper breakfast, but most tended to save a bit of bread and cheese from supper. There was always one large meal in the middle of the day that was usually some kind of stew or fish to keep our blood strong. Mr Guthrie was a generous fellow, so if someone were truly suffering and went to the trouble to ask, they could usually get a tear of bread and a bit of cheese at any time of the day. Most of the crew were too busy to bother, and the amount that was regularly provided was enough.

The intrigue of discovering a whole other room was barely enough to console me on the realization that I now had more to clean. Likely used less often, there weren’t as many knickknacks and objects to dust around so it didn’t take quite so long. I finished quickly and was about to lay down on the captain’s fancy bed and take myself in hand for a wee faf, when the front door opened, and Boone came in with a mopstick and bucket.

I was thrilled at first.

“Oy, wonderful! I’ve done the dusting and tidying but the floors could use a going-over,” I said, thinking that he’d come to help.

He handed the mopstick to me and put the bucket down.

“Make sure to do a good job,” he said and left.

I frowned. Goddamn it.

I’d been looking forward to remembering the captain’s use of me the previous evening and enjoying a good wank.

I looked first at the bucket and then at the mopstick in my hand. I really needed to take the edge off, although why cleaning Captain Martin’s rooms had so stirred my blood, I wasn’t quite sure. I could be quick about the job, and the water in the bucket would still be warm.

I had a brief hesitation when I recalled the captain’s prohibition on self-pleasure. But surely, what he didn’t see, he couldn’t know had happened. He had certainly proved quite clever but he wasn’t all knowing and all seeing. And what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him…or me.

I didn’t latch the door because that might make Boone suspicious. I rested the mopstick against the wall and crawled onto the captain’s bed, reaching into my trousers. I closed my eyes and lost myself to the memories.

I became so entranced that I must have lost track of time, and was in the middle of a very vivid re-imaging of getting fucked in the ropes, when a sudden noise made me turn. I opened my eyes to see the captain standing just inside the door, as the mopstick handle lost its purchase and slammed to the floor.

“Blast!” I said, rolling onto my side to hide my leaking stand, and promptly fell off the mattress.

“Fucking hell,” I cursed as the pain of a rough landing distracted me from my ardor.

The door shut with a loud thud, and the click of the latch echoed ominously. I squeezed my eyes shut as if doing so would make me invisible.

If only .

The scuff of the captain’s boots on the wood floor and the sound of my frantic heartbeats were all I could hear for several moments. I cursed silently, not even trying to stuff myself away. Maybe the captain would be so distracted by my tumescence that he’d forget about the dirty floors and the unused mopstick.

The footsteps stopped near me.

I waited for Captain Martin to address me or to curse my name or to remark on the embarrassing situation he’d found me in. When he didn’t, I took a deep breath and opened my eyes.

He was standing at the foot of the bed where he could see me, gazing upon my rumpled state with an indefinable expression. He folded his arms over his chest and simply took me in. Fuck it, he was a handsome asshole.

“Are you quite all right?”

I glanced down at my cock, which had barely started to wilt from its engorgement due to my vivid imaginings, even after the horrible fright of the captain’s entrance and my tumble to the floor.

I cleared my throat. Act as though nothing is amiss . “Aye, and thank you for asking. Won’t take a moment to finish,” I said, glancing down at myself and giving the captain a suggestive leer.

He was unmoved. “Simon White. Were you having a wank in the middle of your duties?”

“Well, I was trying to. Until you came barging in.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Barging in? To my own quarters?”

I wrapped a hand around myself and began to stroke, holding the captain’s incredulous gaze. Probably a long shot, but I was an optimistic person.

“Rooster, get your fucking hand off yourself this minute.”

Holy shit. I did as I was told, but my prick only stood taller at the sternness in his tone.

“Yes, Captain. Anything you say, Captain,” I muttered.

“Get up and put your cock away. You have work to do.”

“Truly, Captain? I’d much rather work on sucking your—”

“Stand up .” His tone brooked no nonsense.

I scrambled to my feet and stuffed my now truly frightened organ back into my trousers, then fastened the brass buttons on the flap.

Captain Martin took me in.

“The clothes suit you. Disobedience does not.”

“I’m still going to mop. I was just having a rest.”

“Hmm. You didn’t look very restful. And that’s not what I’m mad about.”

“Oh, I see.”

“No, I don’t think you do. That cock is mine, Rooster, and you’re not to touch it without express permission, unless you’re taking a piss and then only for a moment. No funny business. Because your pleasure is mine. We talked about this already. I thought you understood.”

“I did.”

“Clearly not, or you wouldn’t have been about to spend when I turned up a moment ago.”

“Speaking of which, my balls are aching a bit,” I said, making a face and an adjustment to my trousers.

“Good,” Captain Martin said. “Let’s see how you feel after two weeks of not being permitted release.”

My eyes about bugged out of my head and my chin dropped. “Two weeks? Are ye daft? I’ll expire, surely, or go bleedin’ mad from not being able to finish. That ain’t healthy!”

Captain Martin’s eye burned with fire and cruelty for a moment. Then he smiled. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. I’d like to find out.”

“No, surely not. Not when we’ve just begun…”

His smile got wider. It could have been glee at the thought of keeping me from release or an indication that he might not have meant his threat.

“You are very lucky that we just began getting to know each other, Mr White. Because if this happens again, you will be put by for weeks without any chance at release.”

The thought horrified me, but the idea also aroused me. That control over my most intimate parts and biological urges seemed a powerful cruelty. But I was confused.

“But how would you…” I whispered. “You can’t be with me all the time.”

“Trust me. I have ways of keeping you in line, Rooster,” he murmured, as if he was telling me of secret pleasures he was privy to. Knowing him as I was beginning to, perhaps that was so. “And the first of those is punishing you when you do what I’ve explicitly prohibited. Especially whilst neglecting your other duties.”

A bolt of fear sliced through me. Maybe being the captain’s houseboy and seed-bucket was too risky. I fell to my knees in front of the captain, putting my hands together in prayer.

“Not the cat,” I begged. “Please!”

Less than a week ago, I’d seen what Captain Martin had had Donatello do to a man who had stolen and hidden a brace of pistols. Perhaps he’d been planning some kind of mutiny, but the men gave him up at the drop of a hat because their loyalty lay with the captain. Donatello, on the captain’s orders, had flayed the man with the cat-o’-nine-tails—a vicious implement designed to strip skin from a man’s back and cause tremendous pain—until he’d lost consciousness, then tossed him over the side. I could still hear the screams.

Captain Martin sighed. “No, not the cat. That kind of punishment is saved for very serious offences. I don’t like to do anything so cruel, but on occasion such brutality is necessary. However, not in this instance.”

“Oh fuck, thank heavens.”

“Now take off your clothes, Rooster, and lay them neatly on the chair.”

I blinked. “But I thought…”

He raised his eyebrows, and I determined it best to do as I was told, even though I didn’t know what was happening.

“Yes, Captain.”

He stood there and watched me as I stripped. I became more worried and chastened as each layer was removed and wondered what had possessed me to have a wank in the captain’s bed, when he’d strictly forbidden me to touch myself. Eventually, I stood there, buck naked and terrified of whatever might be going to happen. My cock hadn’t quite got the message though.

The captain eyed my prick with interest.

“Come,” Captain Martin said, crooking a finger. I followed him around to the other side of the bed where the main space in the room was. He pulled the straight chair from his desk and placed it in the center of the floor, sat down, and patted his knee.

I stared at him, confused.

“Simon.”

“Yes, Captain?” Desire, curiosity, and trepidation swirled in my gut.

“Bend yourself over my lap so I can give you the discipline you sorely require.”

Wait a moment. Was he planning to tan my hide? Like I was a ten-year-old?

“Now hold on,” I said. “I’m a grown man.”

“Oh, I know that very well, Rooster. You wouldn’t be in this cabin if you weren’t. However, you have acted like a child, and you need to be taken in hand.”

I was strangely affronted, even though an over-the-knee spanking would be a good deal less painful than the other punishments I’d imagined. Once again, my pride got in the way of common sense.

“You want me to go over your lap? For a hiding? ”

“You can call it that if you like.”

“What would you call it?”

He leveled a gaze at me, his palm sliding back and forth on his trousers like a restless dog on a leash. “ Deserved ,” he said. “And if you keep asking me questions, this is going to go much harder and longer than I’d planned.” He leaned back and narrowed his eyes at me, then pointed at his knee and raised his eyebrows.

All right. Fine. If he wanted to play at this game, I could too. Perhaps if I acquiesced and squirmed and cried in a tempting way, he’d go easy on me. Perhaps he enjoyed having relatively young men over his lap with his handprint imprinted on their backside. Perhaps not the worst thing that could happen. Maybe if I could put on a good performance, he’d forget about the mopping and bend me over his bed afterward.

I stared at his lap, noticing the telling bulge in the fabric. Hmm. So this was making him aroused, was it? Now I wanted to bend myself over his knee, but I couldn’t figure out how to get myself in the proper position without looking foolish. He took pity on me, I supposed, and took my wrist, pulling me so that I lost my balance and fell onto his lap with all the grace of a tethered donkey—and a similar sounding squeal.

Captain Martin adjusted my position and kept me from sliding off, whilst I stared at the wood planks beneath his feet, my cheeks flaring with the indignity of the position. However, the press of stiff heat beneath me certainly mollified my shame somewhat. If the captain was enjoying my indignity so much, well then, that made everything worthwhile. Captain Martin’s thighs provided a strong support, but I wiggled nonetheless, satisfied to feel his cock throb and swell even more.

His fingertips on the edges of my scar made me jump. The damaged and reddened skin there was quite sensitive. He feathered his touch over the imperfection, as if afraid of hurting me, even though I was in this position expressly so he could do so.

I gasped and tried not to wiggle as he traced its jagged outline.

“Sensitive?”

“Quite,” I admitted.

“I’ll try to avoid the area. That leaves most of your spectacular arse available to my striking hand, at least.”

“Spectacular, eh?” I asked, trying to keep from smiling.

“Oh yes. The prettiest I’ve seen.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I won’t lie, Rooster, to you or anyone else. I’m generally honest to a fault, so if I tell you a thing, you can count on it.”

“All right. I suppose that’s reassuring.”

I only hoped he didn’t hold me to as high a standard because if a lie would get me out of a tight spot, I had no problem with fibbing.

My father had beaten me on occasion, but never over his lap like this. He’d taken me into the shed and strapped my backside with a leather belt, which had hurt like hell and had not been pleasant at all. I figured I could take a hand spanking, especially from someone like Captain Martin, who no doubt desired the fun more than the pain. At least, that was what I was hoping.

Captain Martin rested his broad hand on my buttock and squeezed, causing my cleft to part and flash him a glimpse of my tiny hole no doubt. He inhaled and his cock swelled more.

I wiggled because the anxiety and excitement made me restless. He sighed.

“Stay still.”

“Yes, Captain. I’ll try.”

I didn’t succeed. When his hand made contact with more force than I’d expected and a sound like the crack of a bullet leaving a musket, I yelped and scrambled to get away. But the captain held me with his iron grip and chuckled.

“When I give you a directive, my red rooster, my lovely little cockerel, I expect you to follow my orders, just like any member of the crew.”

“Yes, Captain,” I sighed, my eyes gone wide.

He started to spank me hard, again and again, mostly in the same spot. Jesus, he was strong. The sound of his palm on my skin alone caused the shame to rise in my cheeks—both sets.

“Do I need to gag you, Rooster, or can you keep quiet?”

Gag me!

“Um… I’ll do my best, Captain,” I said, my poor bottom stinging and aching.

“Right. Hold on.”

I craned my neck to see that he was removing the white kerchief from around his neck.

“I’ll be quiet. I’ll be quiet!”

“Yes, you will. I’m going to make sure of your silence. Open your mouth.”

I obeyed, my heart racing. Was this truly my fate? To be gagged and humiliated by the handsomest privateer I’d ever laid eyes on, purely because I couldn’t keep my hands off my prick?

Captain Martin stuffed the kerchief between my teeth and tied the cloth tight behind my head.

“If nothing else, you’re going to learn to take a hiding like the man you say you are. Now put your hands at the small of your back.”

My eyes bulging and my lips stretched by the cloth, I did so. The captain took the wrist of my far hand and crooked my arm so I was held still over his lap, but he had access to my throbbing arse.

“Now count. I don’t care if I can’t make out what you’re saying, but you might want to keep track. I’m giving you twelve.”

“Twebb!” I exclaimed, the word muffled by the gag.

I’m pretty sure I felt him chuckle before he said, with more sternness that inflamed me, “Ready, Simon Bartholomew White?”

I started to protest, but too late. His hand came down, harder than the last time.

I grunted and counted into the cloth. It sounded like “Ubb.”

“There you go.”

He landed quick and brutal slaps against my not-so-innocent flesh as I tried not to squirm or shout. But that proved hopeless. Maybe that was why he’d told me to count, as at least I could yell out the number. By the time he landed the sixth, tears were escaping, and by the tenth, I was audibly crying and quite chastened.

Captain Martin could give a bloody good spanking, and I’d learned my fucking lesson.

Although my own stand had wilted somewhat with the effects of my punishment, the captain’s was a ramrod beneath me. He untied the gag, hauled me up, and stood me before him.

“Are you going to do as you’re told from now on, Rooster?” he asked.

“Aye, I will. Even though you appear to enjoy taking your hand to my spectacular arse.”

He looked like he was either going to put me back over his lap or burst out laughing. Luckily, he did the latter.

“Well, I can’t deny that. My you are a saucy fellow, backtalking me after a proper hiding.”

“Only pointing out the obvious, Captain,” I sniffed. “But I am sorry for disobeying you, and I will try to do better.”

“See that you do. Your hand is much more useful to me wrapped around the handle of that mopstick than around your cock. And if you are going to be my—” He looked me up and down with the most sultry expression. “—assistant, I plan to make thorough use of you. Now grab that mopstick and get to work.”

“Can’t I get dressed?”

“Oh, Rooster. No. I’m going to enjoy watching you move around this room with a rosy-red bottom and a chastened attitude,” he said with a smile, adjusting his erection and crossing one leg over the other.

The dirty fucking bastard.

I cursed under my breath.

“What was that?”

“I said, ‘Yes, sir.’”

My arse throbbed with the remnants of my initiation to the whims of Captain Martin’s discipline, but perhaps remaining unclothed would prove a mercy. I picked up the stick from where it had fallen and dunked the mop into the soapy water. I meant to throw an angry glare at Captain Martin—who had moved to recline on the bed—as I began, but when I saw him with his own cock in hand, watching me as he lazily stroked himself, the glare turned into a gape. Mother of God, the infuriating man was truly enjoying my debasement. The bastard was more perverse than I.

But two could play at this game. I went back to my lowly duties but made sure to sway my rosy arse in his direction.

“Oh, my goodness, what on earth is this?” I asked, planting my feet wide apart and bending at the waist to pretend to examine a dirty spot on the floor. “Looks like a bit of blood.” I squatted down on the floor and reached around to scratch myself just above my arse crack, careful to avoid any tender areas.

I heard a soft moan from the bed. Aha. I had gleaned Captain Martin’s weakness, and it just so happened to be my pretty arse, scar and all.

I straightened up slowly and shook my head. Then I swiped the mop back and forth over the imaginary stain, with a manufactured ferociousness that hopefully made my muscles bunch and shudder in an attractive way. I surreptitiously peeked behind me.

Sure enough, the captain’s hand was moving quite quickly on his prick as he watched me with half-lidded eyes.