The Pirate Affair
Chapter One
by AUTHOR22@aol.com

Yelverton, England. December, 1710 AD; 

The boy huddled in the distant corner of the root cellar. He waited 
and listened, pleading silently that they would not find him. Above, 
the hard leather boots of the shanghai crew echoed through the house. 
Shouts came quickly. They were loud and shocking and were mixed with 
frenzied screams of pain and terror. The sounds penetrated through the 
thick walls of the tiny farm house, from the attic all the way down to 
the furthermost recesses of the basement. A frantic cry, louder than 
the rest was followed by the kawump of a single gunshot. The boy 
cringed, breathing quickly in short gasps. He shivered as he heard the 
clumping of boots on the stairs. His heart pounded noisily inside him 
and a terrible shudder passed through his slender body. 

Men shouted. Bottles smashed as crashing sounds indicated that shelves 
had been tipped over. Laughter came echoing through the dark stone 
corridors, noisy laughter of drunken, triumphant men. The sounds came 
closer. He closed his eyes as if to block out the light so that he 
would not be seen. The sounds stopped. A moment of silence was 
disturbed only by muffled soul wrenching sobs. A bullet ricocheted 
through the air. The noise reverberated in the boy's head, stinging in 
his ears. Then silence again. 

Horror descended. He heard the sound of footsteps as heavy feet strode 
across the room. The boy could hear them getting closer. The movement 
stopped. Slowly he opened his eyes. The blood splotched black boot was 
inches away. It reached almost to the man's knee. The boy trembled, 
uncontrollably urinating into his trousers. The foot moved back then 
swung violently forward. It slammed into his buttocks. The boy 
shrieked. 

He was dragged out of the house, his arms torn nearly from their 
sockets, his feet dragging on the ground. The front of his trousers 
was dark. There were wet stains down his legs almost to his feet. He 
cried. For some reason unknown to the boy, he looked up as he was 
pulled like rubbish across the footpath. 

"Fucking English boy pissed himself," some one laughed. It was a gruff 
looking seaman leaning against the brick wall, next to the arch that 
opened into the vegetable garden. 

On the other side of the yard, a monster of a man was standing next to 
the old weather worn barn. He was dressed better than the others. The 
way he stood and ordered his men about left no doubt that he was in 
charge. The man looked at him. For some reason, the boy looked back. 
It was a silent plea for mercy, a look that begged the man to save 
him, a look of hope. The boy's head turned as he looked back. The 
man's eyes followed him as he was dragged to the back of the horse 
drawn wagon, lifted up and thrown into the chaos within. He hit the 
wooden floor hard and blackness settled over him. 

He regained consciousness as what was left of his family waited for he 
knew not what. Only his mother and two sisters were there. And there 
was blood on his mothers apron. Without being told he knew it was that 
of his father.

His sisters cried endlessly. His father was gone and no one would tell 
him where he was even though he pleaded. The boy knew that something 
terrible had happened to him. He knew he was dead. 

Their fate was left to the whims of three of the armed men, the others 
having rode ahead into the cold afternoon. For three hours the wagon 
rumbled toward the coast. There was snow on the ground, and a wind 
blew gustily chilling his tiny, thin frame. The boy wished frequently 
that it was over, sometimes wishing death as his bowel exploded with a 
shameful, foul diarrhea. 

Again and again he dirtied himself, releasing his stool until he was 
empty, until his body was purged and he had become deathly pale. 

It was late evening when the wagon finally stopped on a deserted 
beach. The boy clambered out of the wagon and stood, dazed and 
disbelieving at the world around him, astonished by the fact that he had 
survived. He collapsed, too weak to stand up until his mother lifted 
him, and braced him against the side of the wagon. He tottered clumsily 
and the earth seemed to move beneath him.

They coughed in the bitter cold air. Clouds of steam formed, billowing 
from their mouths with each breath of air. The ground was white with 
needles of sharp, frost-covered grass. It crunched loudly as they 
moved around, trying to become warm, their bodies shaking as they 
adjusted to the cold. It was a frigid, almost invigorating contrast to 
the wooden floor of the old wagon which had stolen heat from its 
passengers. 

Off in the distance the shape of a tall masted schooner was barely 
visible in the fog. Someone whispered "Plymouth". All of his life had 
been spent at their farm just outside the tiny village of Yelverton 
He had heard of the distant cove which was frequented by Pirates 
when they were short of crew.

Their Cruel-faced kidnappers herded them towards a long boat. A long 
leather whip encouraged their journey.

It was a death march to a death ship. The word Pirates was passed back 
and forth, from one person to another. It came to the twelve year old 
boy, but like everyone else on that long slow trip, he had no idea of 
its true meaning. 

An hour later he was pushed through the shallow water and goaded into 
the boat. The sea water at least washed some of the filth from his 
clothes. But the water was exceedingly cold, and he began to again 
shiver, only this time it wasn't from fear. He looked at his little 
sister who preceded him. Her pale skin now looked blue, and the water 
was up to her chin. 

The boy picked her up and carried her to the boat, gently lifting her 
over the gunwales. A sharp whip greeted his back as he climbed aboard. 
And he wept.

"Strip ye naked." Bellowed a large evil looking man. "Ye will not soil 
our decks with yer filthy clothing."

The long whip again lashed out and caught his mother on her right arm. 
The man made for her, grasped the top of her dress and tore it from 
her body. "Damn your filthy souls. Everyone strip or we'll do it for 
ye. Throw those rags into the sea."

The boy stayed close beside his mother. With his sisters next to him, 
he was very embarrassed and he undressed slowly. He folded his clothes 
neatly but cast them overboard, then stood shivering in the cold. His 
hands were clenched over his shrunken genitals and his shoulders 
hunched protectively. The boy was more scared than he had ever been 
and he trembled endlessly as the family waited sitting on the cold wet 
boards. Despite his mothers's gentle reassurance, the boy was 
convinced that it was only death that lay ahead for them. 

Slowly they neared the ship. Too cold to be ashamed, the boy no longer 
covered his genitals and instead folded his arms over his chest. He 
pressed his naked body against his mother and sisters, very grateful 
of their warmth. He was very, very hungry. 

Finally the long boat pulled along side of the schooner, and everyone 
was herded up a net made of thick rope. His mother tried to help, but 
each of the prisoners had all they could do to get themselves up the 
side of the ship.

As he stepped aboard he was pushed to one side, away from his mother 
and older sister. Now he was responsible for his younger sister and he 
tried to soothe her, reassuring her that they would meet them again 
once they were settled. The two children were formed into another 
group. A group of other children and old people, or people that were 
sick. Separated from their families, many of the children were crying 
or searching frantically for their parents. The old people looked 
bleakly around them as they tried to understand. 

Minutes passed as the boy shivered, clasping his little sister against 
him, as much for her warmth as to share his own. 

The boy turned to one side, trying to see his mother as he stumbled 
forward. He caught only a glimpse before he was shoved forward so hard 
that he was almost knocked to the deck. As he struggled up again he 
made one last attempt to find his mother. He looked directly into the 
cold, blue eyes of the man he had seen standing by the barn outside 
his house earlier that afternoon. Their eyes met and seemed to lock 
together. Again the boy looked hopeful as he silently pleaded for 
mercy. He knew that he was about to die. He was so cold that he wanted 
to die. 

The man's eyes seemed to fix upon him, watching his every movement as 
he stumbled forward, getting further away from his mother and older 
sister. The man seemed to smile at him and turned to the evil looking, 
husky man standing beside him. And then a sailor pushed forward, 
thrusting his way past the other children until he reached the boy. 
His shoulder was grabbed roughly and he was pushed to the side and out 
of the line. His sister followed silently. 

A few moments later he was standing before the strange man. He clasped 
his younger sister tightly by the hand instinctively, knowing that he 
could not let her go. The man looked him up and down, inspecting his 
naked body critically for imperfections. It was the same trained look 
that the boy's father gave to horses as he assessed their bloodlines, 
their muscles and bones, their teeth and eyes, even the quality of 
their hooves. The boy felt very naked. He was cold but he shivered as 
much from fear as from the air. 

The man's inspection ended. He licked his lips thoughtfully as he 
appraised the handsome youth. The lad had been circumcised at birth. 
He liked that, he could see the small bluish tip and it did not seem 
as sinister as a hooded one. For some reason that excited him greatly, 
the boy's penis had not contracted from its long exposure to the cold 
water. He smiled, observing that the boy's penis was short and fat, 
giving it the stubby appearance that had always interested him. It 
looked like a breakfast sausage dangling between the boy's slender 
legs. It was very different to his own thin, protracted sex. He could 
imagine sucking on it as he ground his finger into the small, highly-
sensitive anus. Underneath, he could see the small, shriveled scrotum, 
like a plump walnut. The boy was still young, still almost hairless, 
probably just discovering that it could be used for something more 
than pissing. The boy was perfect. He needed a cabin boy.

Despite the fact that the boy was very frightened his quick answers to 
the questions put to him revealed innate intelligence of a high order. 
This one was ideal. He ordered a blanket to be brought for the boy and 
then he spoke quickly to his comrade his crude guttural foreign tongue 
rasping in the boy's ears. 

The sailor stepped forward and grasped the little girl's arm at the 
same time as the other man moved and placed both hands on the boy's 
small, bare shoulders. Firmly, the two children were separated. His 
sister began to cry, her piercing wail tormenting the boy as she was 
dragged further and further away from him. He fell to his knees, 
prostrating himself on the cold, damp deck. His small hands grasped at 
the strange man's boots as he begged and pleaded for mercy, sniveling 
as tears burst forth. The man looked down and his jaws clenched. He 
stared at the boy severely, a Draconian look that was uncompromising. 
And yet, the man was masterful, realizing the extortionate power of 
clemency. For the first time in many years he showed pity for another. 
He gave the sailor a harsh, withering glance, contempt flashed in his 
eyes, and he barked a single command. 

Instantly, the sailor retreated, and took the little girl by the hand 
gently and led her quietly away. The boy was lifted up, standing 
weakly as he watched his sister join the rest of his family. He looked 
up, now shivering uncontrollably, his pale, slender body shaking with 
nervous fear. His eyes were drawn back to the man's eyes, into the 
ice-cold terror that lurked within. The man smiled, a sly smile that 
was as full of terror for the boy as the pale-blue eyes. 

The boy forced himself to smile back at the man, knowing that there 
was a price to pay for his sister's escape from death, but having no 
idea what it could be. There was a slow, almost interminable exchange 
between them as they stood silently looking at each other. Then, as 
the boy's nakedness was covered by a thick woolen blanket and he was 
led away, the man's look was as much of lust as it was of fondness for 
the boy. 

Images flooded back to him in a rush. Bearded men running down dirt 
roads, attacking and killing anything that moved. The sails in the 
harbor, black upon black cloth, snapping in the air. The steely rasp 
of swords clashing. And then the sounds of screaming tore at his 
memory, heavy footsteps, yelling...

A nightmare; the feel of blood as his father collapsed into his arms, 
the prick of the sword that still impaled his father's dying form 
cutting into his side. His own screaming added to the cries of pain 
and loss.

He tried to clasp his hands to his ears to stop the dream, to stop the 
sounds from tearing his heart, but could not. They would not move.

Panic brought him awake suddenly, his eyes snapping open wildly.

He was in a spacious cabin, alone. Twisting, he found that his hands 
were tied behind his back. His legs were likewise tied in several 
places. Suddenly, the room rocked.

He felt his stomach twist and remembered he was on a ship. Reality 
crashed in upon him, and he realized he was a prisoner of the men who 
had looted his village. His father, dead. His mother and sisters ... 
probably lived, in the hands of the pirates. It was the pirate way, he 
knew, to claim captured women as their own, and to kill those that had 
no value.

He felt his tears flow in grief for his father, and the ship lurched 
again. He felt his stomach respond, and he vomited onto the floor, 
next to where he was laying. He felt himself crying again, and then 
became very tired and fell asleep.

A sharp pain brought him awake. He gasped as something hit his chest, 
and he struggled to move away. It hit again, and he realized it was a 
boot. He found he couldn't breathe.

"Damn you, Frenchy! Get the HELL away from my boy!"

The boots went away, and he heard the door slam.

He gasped for air, and felt himself lifted to his knees. He looked 
into the face of the man who helped him up. Two things crossed his 
mind. The man was extremely good looking, and this was the man who had 
been responsible for his father's death.

The man stood up and, grabbing a knife, cut the bonds that bound him. 
He tried to stand, but the lack of blood in his limbs and his inability 
to breathe left him helpless on the floor.

He was lifted bodily and held upright by the pirate. He found it was 
easier to breathe, but the blood returning to his limbs was painful, 
and his eyes started to water. He was pushed forward and out the door.

He saw a dark hallway, and then steps leading up into sunlight. He was 
pushed up the steps onto the deck.

He wiped his eyes and saw many men moving on the deck, smoothly operating 
the various parts of the ship. The giant sails were fully drawn 
and billowed powerfully in the wind, the same black upon black sails 
he first saw furled in the distant fog. There was no doubt anymore. He 
wished he had the strength to run, or fight.

He was not given the chance. He was held by two men for the pirate 
that had claimed him.  Still naked, they pulled him to the back of the 
ship and attached a rope harness to him. Before he realized what they 
intended, they cast him off the deck and into the water.

He tried to surface, but was pulled abruptly after the ship by the 
harness. His head was barely kept above water as his body bore the 
brunt of wave after wave against his skin. He screamed as the salt 
entered a cut on his side, and then felt himself pulled back up onto 
the ship.

He was cast down, shivering and shaking, and a soft cloth was wrapped 
around his waist, over the wound. Then he was pulled back down the 
staircase and into the same cabin as before.

Two men were finishing mopping up the vomit on the floor and left 
immediately. He was cast onto the floor again, and all but the original 
pirate left the cabin, pulling the door closed after them.

The pirate grabbed something off the large wooden desk in the corner 
of the room. Looking around, he could see two hammocks, the desk, 
several chests, and another door. The pirate crossed the room to stand 
before him and pulled his head up.

"I'd rather not have to hurt you as I did your father, so hold still 
and don't resist me. What's your name?" The man's voice was smooth and 
deep. That, and the sword hanging from the man's belt, helped him to 
decide not to resist. "Scott."

"Good. You must never lie to me. I already knew your name from your 
sister. Had your answer been different from hers, I would have killed 
you both. Look up."

Scott looked up towards the ceiling. The man pulled his head down 
slightly, and then he felt something cold encircle his neck.

"This collar, Scott, is your symbol of servitude to me. My personal 
markings are on it." The man pulled a small black lock and attached it 
to the collar under Scott's chin. "It's locked on. If it is ever 
removed, another pirate will have the right to claim you, and I warn 
you: most of the others on these ships are rather brutal with their 
slaves."

The man stood and walked over to the wall against which the hammocks 
were strung side by side. Scott watched as the pirate pulled a long 
metal chain over to Scott and attached it to the lock at his neck. 
With a snap the lock clicked shut. Scott could see the other end of 
his tether attached to a bolt in the wall between the hammocks.

The man sat on one of the hammocks. "Scott, welcome to my world. I am 
Captain of this ship, the Bloody Cutlass." The man sighed. "I know 
what you're going through, and what you're feeling. I killed your 
father, yes. Your mother and sisters are alive, and have already been 
traded to pirates on other ships. You will not see any of them again. 
It is important that you obey me and not resist me. I have an image to 
uphold, and, since you are my slave, so do you. Any attempt to resist 
me or escape, and you will be punished SEVERELY. I have killed slaves 
before, and I will not hesitate to do it now, if provoked. Do you 
understand?"

Scott nodded, lost, upset and confused. He felt tears welling in his 
eyes again, and wiped them away quickly.

"Ah, you are still grieving for your father. Very well. Come over 
here."

Scott began to stand.

"No, my slave, stay on hands and knees at all times. You have to earn 
the privilege of being treated like a man."

Scott lowered himself to the floor and crawled to the man's feet, 
humiliated by the position and his nudity.

"You may rest, on that hammock, which is yours. Get into it."

Scott carefully maneuvered himself into the swaying hammock and lay 
back. He fell asleep almost instantly, and felt his hands tugged over 
his head before dropping off.

It seemed he slept for days. When he awoke, he found that his hands 
and feet were once again tied, to the rings holding up the hammock. He 
felt extremely stiff, but much more awake and alive. The memories this 
time were not quite as painful when they flooded back to him, but the 
loss of his family still hurt deeply. And this pirate was to blame for 
it.

Looking around, he saw that the cabin was deserted. He looked up at 
his hands and saw they were tied with rope. He wriggled them a bit and 
found that they moved, although only slightly. He weighed the risks in 
his mind, and decided to try to get free. He would escape before the 
pirate next entered the room.

He tried pulling one hand through the loops, and after a few seconds 
relaxed. He threw his whole arm into it, pulling his hand with all his 
might, even though it hurt terribly. He had to give up, gasping and 
sweating. The loops were tight.

Then he realized that the ring holding the hammock up had a slight gap 
in it. If he could slip the rope up to that gap and through it, he 
could at least get his hands to where he could see them better.

He tried extending his arms, and then, bracing his feet against the 
fabric of the hammock, pushed his body upwards. It was working! The 
rope was very close to the gap, but not quite. He shifted his weight 
and tried to inch a little more towards the head of the hammock.

Suddenly, he felt the hammock leaning towards the wall. He quickly 
gave up trying to release his hands and tried to regain balance, but 
could not. He fell against the wall, and off the hammock.

The pain in his hands before was nothing compared to what he was 
feeling now! He was hanging solely by his hands and feet, tied to the 
rings above him, and the pain was excruciating. He could not help but 
to cry out. Then he realized he was yelling, and tried to stop himself. 
He bit his lip and swore under his breath, but the pain was too 
much. He yelled for help, praying someone would hear him.

The door swung open and a strange man stood there for a minute, and 
then ran from the room, closing the door behind him. Another minute, 
and the Captain entered quickly.

"Damn it all...", he muttered as he crossed the room and began to 
untie the ropes. Scott, scared, felt tears welling again from the pain 
and fright. The pirate pulled out a knife and began cutting the ropes 
which had been pulled too tight to unknot. Scott fell to the floor 
suddenly with a gasp.

He rubbed his wrists as the Captain cut loose his feet.

"What were you trying to do?", the Captain said in an even tone, 
tightly controlled.

The question caught Scott off guard. He had no idea what to say, so 
said nothing.

"I see. Resisting me already. You'll regret this."

Scott tried to protest, but the Captain pulled him to his hands and 
knees and dragged him bodily to the corner of the room, the metal 
chain dragging behind him. Scott heard the door slam, and then felt 
his bruised arms raised overhead. They were tied tightly to a hook on 
the wall far out of reach. Scott, fearing he knew what was coming, 
felt cold fear grip his heart, and he began to plead with the pirate.

"Please, I'm sorry..."

The pirate did not answer, merely jammed a gag across Scott's mouth, 
cutting off his pleading abruptly. The cloth around his waist was 
pulled off, exposing the wound again. And then Scott felt a vicious 
pain across his back, causing him to cry out through the gag. Again 
and again he was whipped, across his entire back and buttocks, until 
he was gasping and crying and pleading against the gag. The Captain 
ignored him, and continued beating him until the sobs racked his body, 
and his tears stained the gag. His mind went numb and his back seemed 
to be on fire.

Finally, the beating stopped, and his hands were released briefly, and 
then tied behind his back. He felt rough hands pushing his neck 
towards the floor, and his collar was locked to a bolt low in the wall. 
Finally, his legs were pulled apart roughly. Through the haze, he felt 
a stab at his buttocks, and then sharp pain as he was physically 
violated. He felt the Captain's cock slide deep within him painfully, 
and he cried out against the gag helplessly. He tried to escape, but 
his head was firmly pinned to the wall. The rigid member was pulled out 
and pushed back in, and then he felt a hand scratching the welts on his 
back, and the pain drove him back into numbness and haziness. He 
wished to lose consciousness, but could not, and felt the cock drive 
even deeper, and then the sensation of fluid deep within him as the 
Captain reached orgasm.

The dick was finally removed, and he sobbed quietly into the gag.

His hands were released, along with his collar, and he was pulled 
backwards and collapsed into the pirate's arms. He felt anger and 
wished he had the strength to leave the embrace, but it was insidiously 
comfortable, and his body ironically chose that point to go unconscious.

He fought through the haze slowly, unwillingly. His back still stung 
horribly. Then he became aware of a different sensation. He felt a 
hand tugging at his left nipple, and another stroking his pego, which 
was hard. He realized it was the pirate, and also realized suddenly 
that this was to be part of his slavery. The pirate intended to use 
him like a girl.

He struggled in the Captain's arms, but they tightened around him.

"Do you want another beating, my pet?", the pirate hissed in his ear. 
Scott forced himself to succumb to the pirate's caresses fearfully.

"Good boy. I do not think your back would take much more as it is."

He relaxed into the pirate's embrace, and was mortified that his body 
responded so quickly to the pirate's caress. He felt dizzy, out of 
control, erotic, and yet still angry at this man who had destroyed his 
life. And yet, his pego was pulsing with every stroke, and his breathing 
was shallow and fast.

"That's right, Scott. Give in to it.", the pirate whispered into his 
ear. He felt the pirate biting his neck lightly, and realized he was 
unwillingly building to orgasm.

The hand released his pego abruptly. He was pushed onto hands and 
knees, still painfully erect.

The pirate removed the gag. "No, you must earn that pleasure, slave. 
You have not earned anything but my wrath so far."

He was pulled back to the hammock and told to sleep a while longer. 
Still dazed, he climbed into the hammock and laid back with a twinge 
from his sore back. The pirate turned to leave, but then turned back 
to him.

"I don't think you'll try to escape...but I also don't want you touching 
your cock." He tied Scott's hands to the ring above his head again 
and, with a quick kiss, left abruptly.

Scott lay awake for a long time, thinking about what had happened. His 
back itched and burned, and yet his cock was still hard and his body 
tensed in excitement. When he finally did sleep, it was a troubled 
sleep, filled with alternating dreams of the horror of the attack on 
his village, and of the pirate holding and fondling him.

He woke up shivering and coughing. His side burned where the wound 
was. He dared not cry out for help, but knew he was feeling the first 
signs of a fever. Looking down, he saw his own blood staining the 
canvas hammock, and realized the wound had opened again. He felt 
insidiously weak, and was unable to use his hands to staunch the flow of 
blood. The thought that maybe god had heard his plea and he would now 
be allowed to die passed through his mind. Suddenly he realized that 
above all he didn't want to die.

He waited. It seemed an eternity before the Captain finally opened the 
door, crossed to the desk, picked up some sort of tool, and headed out 
the door again. Scott lifted his head to call out, but pain blossomed 
when he did so, and he groaned instead.

The Captain turned at the sound and crossed to where Scott lay.

"Damn." Scott felt cold hands touched his fevered skin, and something 
soft pressed against the wound.

"You must not hesitate to tell me when something is wrong like this. 
You will not be punished for it...."

Scott felt his consciousness slip away.

The next several days were a blur of images as his body succumbed 
fully to the fever. He was vaguely aware of different people tending 
him, changing the dressings on the wound, giving him water to drink.

Finally, the fever abated.

Scott woke slowly, feeling far better and fully coherent. He was alone 
once more, hands tied as before, but now he was feeling fully 
refreshed and alive. The dressing on the wound was gone, he noticed, and 
it had finally closed and was healing.

He did not have to wait long before the Captain entered, crossed to 
the hammock, and asked how he was feeling.

"Much better," he answered.

"Good. Because we are in port."

The Captain untied Scott's hands and ordered him to the floor. Scott 
managed to leave the hammock with only a slight twinge of pain, and 
knelt on the floor at the Captain's feet.

The chain which was attached to his collar was released, and a shorter 
chain was put in its place. The pirate held the end of the leash in 
his hand.

"We're going on deck so you can get some fresh air and sunshine. 
Listen closely. Do as I say, without hesitation. Stay on hands and 
knees. Do not speak unless I tell you to. Do NOT obey any of the other 
men. Keep your head down. Let's go."

He was pulled out the cabin door and up the stairs to the deck as 
before. Bright sunshine caused his eyes to squint as he crawled along 
at the side of the Captain. He looked around, and saw many men lounging 
on the deck, drinking and laughing. He also saw several other 
slaves, kneeling beside other pirates, or cleaning the ship. All were 
naked as was he, and with a shock, he thought he recognized one of 
them.

His collar was tugged sharply, and he remembered that his head was 
supposed to be kept down. He lowered it and followed the feet of the 
Captain to another stairway which lead to an upper deck. The Captain 
sat down in a chair, and Scott sat on the deck beside him.

"Look over there, my slave."

Scott looked off the side of the ship where the Captain indicated. The 
ship was indeed anchored off the shore of a large city, larger than 
Scott had ever seen before. It seemed hundreds of buildings filled the 
valley beneath a range of mountains which rose majestically towards 
the sky. He could barely make out people moving between the buildings 
on the oceanfront.

"This is the city of Tortuga, a small port, but important for us. By 
selling goods here, we bypass tariffs that are levied on traders in 
the north."

Scott looked from the port back to the ship and noticed that the black 
sails had somehow been replaced with common colorful trader sails.

The Captain laughed. "Oh, yes, we are traders most of the time. What 
use is looting a village if we cannot sell what we take? We have no 
use for most of what we steal. Except slaves like you."

With that the Captain pulled his head up by the chin and kissed him 
deeply on the mouth. Scott accepted the kiss, all the while swearing 
vengeance on this pirate. And yet, his heart was not fully in it.

The Captain smiled. "You will learn to appreciate me. Look there."

Scott looked down onto the deck where a young man was being beaten 
with a heavy belt. The slave had a brush in his teeth, and was 
furiously scrubbing at the deck even while being beaten.

"The slave was taken from a city on the other side of the continent. 
He's obedient, and hard-working, yet Jack punishes him. We don't even 
know the slave's name, since his Master never bothered to ask. Jack 
also regularly loans him out for the pleasure of his comrades."

Scott looked on with horror as the beating continued. The slave tried 
to pull away, and his Master pulled him back by his hair, and kicked 
him in the side, and then continued the beating.

Scott looked at the other slaves, many of which were females. One 
woman had been tied in such a way that any passing pirate could help 
himself, and many did so during the afternoon as Scott watched. 
Several others were scrubbing the deck, some were sleeping by the 
sides of bearded pirates, who seemed to take pleasure in waking the 
slaves with a hard belt across the back.

"Our next stop is la Havana, where the slave business is their largest 
export. Many slaves will be sold there, for good money. Old slaves, 
disobedient slaves, even slaves who the men have gotten tired of. The 
slaves are then sent across the mountains to be sold for labor in the 
sugar fields."

The Captain was interrupted by a man who walked up and began speaking 
to the Captain in a tongue Scott could not recognize. The Captain 
responded in kind, and some sort of heated discussion ensued. Scott 
returned his attention to the deck below.

The Captain stood finally, and handed Scott's leash to another man. 
"Sorry, pet, business calls." Turning to the man who now held the 
leash, he said, "Put him to work."

Scott watched as the Captain walked away, and then followed the man 
who tugged his leash insistently. He was put to work polishing the 
brass molding on the main mast, his leash locked firmly around the 
mast so he could not escape.

He was working diligently when he heard his name whispered quietly 
behind him. Turning, he saw the slave he thought he recognized before. 
But on closer look he wasn't so sure.

The person he knew vaguely was the son of a traveling merchant. This 
creature, while slim and flat chested was not a boy unless his 
genitals had grown inward. The merchant had been in the town when the 
pirates had attacked. How the girl had learned his name, he did not 
know. She was scrubbing the deck and had obviously moved close to 
Scott in order to talk to him.

"You're from Yelverton, right?"

Scott nodded slowly, still polishing away at the brass so as not to 
get into trouble. "You're the son of ..", he hesitated then corrected 
himself, "daughter of the gypsy merchant?", he whispered.

The youth nodded. "Jerry is my name. You're the only one I've 
recognized. My Pa is dead."

Scott nodded. "Mine too. I'm sorry."

The girl smiled wanly. "It's just nice to see someone I know."

"I seen you around in town, but I thought you was a boy."

"Pa liked it that way, so's boy's wouldn't try to fuck me. Sometimes 
it got real funny when I would go around with the other guys and try 
and pick up on girls. I was better at it than them. Got'em madder than 
hell."

He looked closer at the girl.  She had a slim but well developed 
build.  A tight waist and taut stomach which supported small round 
breasts that were firm enough so that given a baggy enough blouse she 
could easily pass for a boy. But now naked and in full view, she 
stirred his first awakening toward the opposite sex, and his penis 
began to inflate.

Scott spared a look around. "We could get into trouble for talking."

He was hoping that she would not notice the effect she was having on 
him.

The girl looked frightened, and then her face hardened. "I don't care. 
And it looks as though you've already been in trouble. Your back is 
all bruised."

Scott winced. "Yeah, trying to escape. Didn't get very far." He 
noticed a pirate staring in his direction. "We need to stop talking. 
Move away, we'll talk again later."

The girl moved silently away, scrubbing as she went.

Scott returned his attention to the brass finishings, but the pirate 
he had noticed staring at him stood up and walked over.

"Talking to other slaves, boy?" the pirate asked gruffly.

Scott ignored the man and continued polishing.

"Hey, boy, I'm talking to you. Do as I say, or I'll tell the Captain 
you were talking to another slave."

Cold fear gripped Scott's heart. He had been told not to obey others, 
but if he did not, he would be in trouble for talking to another 
slave. He wavered and then realized that this pirate would probably 
tell the Captain anyway. Pirates were not known as men of their word. 
He decided to ignore the man.

This turned out to be impossible as the man jerked him onto his feet 
by his collar. Choking, Scott was helpless as the man stared into his 
face.

"You ignore me? You little shit, I'll teach you..." and the man threw 
him onto the deck. He felt a boot land on the small of his back and 
then a leather belt came down hard on his buttocks again and again. He 
was crying out and thrashing, but the man had him pinned. Suddenly, 
though, the beating stopped abruptly.

The pirate fell beside him on the deck. With shock, Scott saw a knife 
driven deep into the man's neck. He jumped to his feet and tried to 
run away, but was stopped short by the collar which was still locked 
to the mast, and fell back onto the deck again.

The Captain stood over him and helped him back to his hands and knees, 
and then stood tall. In a loud voice he announced, "Noone touches my 
slave without permission! Ever! Get this piece of filth off my deck 
and clean this mess up!"

Two men grabbed their slain comrade and threw the body over the side 
of the ship as several slaves cleaned up the blood. Scott was released 
and pulled away from the scene by the Captain. He was taken back to 
the upper deck and placed to the side of the Captain's chair once 
more. He realized he was shaking from shock.

"Don't worry, Scott, they won't touch you now."

Scott continued to shake in shock over what might have happened if the 
Captain had not been there to stop the pirate. He was also very much 
afraid of what this pirate Captain was capable of.

"Lie down and sleep. Don't worry, I'm here." And despite his fear and 
hatred of the Captain, Scott DID feel more secure, and hated the 
Captain even more for it. But he obeyed, and fell asleep in the sun.

When he woke it was dark. He was no longer on the outside deck, but in 
their cabin.

There was something quite different. First he was not in his hammock. 
Second, his head was resting on something warm and soft. His mind was 
slow in leaving sleep, and he turned on his side. Now there was a 
somewhat peculiar, but not unpleasant, odor that was confirming that 
difference.

His eyes opened, and there, just two inches from his nose was the 
Captains large, and very hard cock. It was then that Scott realized 
his pillow was the Captain's inner thigh.

The cock moved forward till it was poking at his lips. The boy did not 
know what to do. Heretofore the Captain had taken him from behind.

"Open yer mouth laddie and do me tool justice. And if ye make me happy 
ye'll earn two hours a day walk'n on deck like a man."

Scott didn't have to think about the offer. There was really no 
choice. The Captain's pleasure was the lad's only purpose. Yet the 
proffered tool which had been up his butt more times than he could 
count, looked strange. He opened his mouth as wide as he could in fear 
of suffering a lash across his back if his teeth should graze the 
sensitive rod.

His Master was in command as he slid his tool past the boy's lips 
until it struck the back of the mouth. "Breath slow and deeply so 
there's a lot of hot air. ...  Good, now close your lips around it and 
pretend it's a lollipop."

Scott's lip closed around the rod, and he instinctively sucked on it. 
In response to his ministration the rod began dispensing a salty 
substance; surprisingly pleasant. The lad bobbed his head up and down 
several times.

"Laddie, you got the hang of it. Just keep agoin."

Scott began to realize that this was far better than having the Captain's 
dick up his arse, and resolved to doing so well that this would 
become his Masters preference.

Within a short period of time the Captain was so deep into his fantasy 
that he had lost any sense of Master and Slave. "Oh Suck it good, my 
darlin boy." He put his hands behind Scott's head, steadying the 
receptacle for his thrusting piston.

With no warning the Captain's cock began spurting his jism into the 
lad's mouth. He had no other choice than to swallow it. A goodly part  
had shot past his tongue and was already flowing down his throat. But 
he could not swallow it fast enough, so that his mouth filled and 
began leaking from his lips.  The taste was not disgusting as he had 
always presumed it would be. There was a slight tang to it. It had a 
clean aroma that reminded him of his mother washing clothes.

And then Scott began to realize he had found a way past the Captain's 
harsh exterior. If he could get the Captain to need this new skill, he 
would have something with which to bargain. Then the first time his 
master was careless in watching his slave, it would be over the side, 
a short swim, and then freedom.

Each day the boy was diligent in developing his new skill. The better 
he became, the more convinced the Captain was that he had captured the 
boy's heart.

One day he was hustled out of their cabin and told to report to the 
Bosun. He was to learn to handle the wheel.

He passed several crew members as he walked up to the bridge, all 
carrying lumber and tools. The Captain obviously had a new project in 
mind. 

There was a clear view of the entire ship from the bridge. It was a 
bright sunny day with just enough wind to fully fill the sails. Even 
so, controlling the ships wheel took all of the strength he could 
muster.

The Quarter master treated him more like a member of the crew than a slave. 
The Captains murder of the crewman who had struck Scott had sent a clear 
message to those who might toy with the idea of treating him roughly.

As the days passed into weeks he had been given those two hours a day 
of walking upright; and he was the only slave who was sported that 
privilege.

As he looked toward the bow of the ship he spotted Jerry, naked, and 
on her hands and knees scrubbing the deck. She was also facing toward 
the bow, so that his gaze fell upon her lovely behind. He had seen her 
several times since that fateful day, but never could talk to her. Her 
eyes had reflected envy in his privilege to walk alone on the deck. He 
vowed that later today he would try to find some time and some place 
where they might talk with out fear of reprisal.

Several things had changed. The lad had grown several inches, and his 
dick had kept pace with his body. Being on deck most of every day had 
resulted in a deep tan from his shoulders all the way to the bottoms 
of his feet. The work he had been assigned had also built his body. 
The better food served in the Captain's cabin had contributed to that 
growth. His hair had been sun bleached almost to being blonde, and was 
now a shaggy shoulder length.

While the youth had escape as the most important single thing that he 
must achieve, he was developing a taste for the Captains twice or 
sometime thrice sexual exercises. And the lustful glances that he 
intercepted from other members of the crew as he had grown added to 
his self confidence of his worth in the bedroom.

Usually the day would start by a bright, "Laddie come take care a me 
Mast. It's awaiting yer tender care." He would then climb out of his 
hammock. By then the tall mast was uncovered and awaiting his service.

Sometimes at midday the Captain would order him to the Cabin. In the 
beginning the Captain had alternated between fucking him, and having 
him suck. But within a few days he had become so skillful in his 
mouthing of the adult penis that screwing him in the arse had almost 
come to a halt.

Then always at night his master had taken to having him sit along side 
of him while eating, and they would take turns feeding each other. To 
Scott it was clear that the Captain considered him as a talented pet, 
something akin to a good dog. After dinner they would do a bit of 
sexual wrestling on the cabin floor. Most of the time sex was one way; 
the boy sucking the Captains cock. But he had discovered that if he 
was skillful, and prolonged the man's climax, he would get so immersed 
in the fantasy that he would take the boy into his mouth, and they 
would then drive rapidly toward a simultaneous ejaculation.

He had been standing behind the wheel as those thoughts had past 
through his brain. They had traveled instantaneously to his dick. 

A sudden gust of wind and the ship lurched to port. He spun the wheel 
and almost leapt into the air as his hard dick got slammed by the 
spinning wheel.

His sudden yelp of pain brought the attention of the Quarter master, who 
once seeing the cause had drowned out his yells in fits of laughter so loud 
that even Jerry, still on the bow, turned to see what was up. 

His erection had wilted so rapidly, that only the officer knew what was 
so all fired funny.

"I think ye need to go see the Captain laddie. I'll take over the 
wheel." What surprised Scott the most was that the Quarter master had 
spoken to him in a friendly, almost fatherly manner.

Everyone on board knew that he was the Captain's play thing. Yet as he 
strode off of the bridge he felt envy, not pity coming from those that 
watched him; even the Quarter master. But his nakedness was a badge of 
slavery which differentiated him from the crew.

Upon returning to the cabin he was astonished to see that the two 
hammocks had been replaced with a large bed; large enough for three or 
four if they didn't mind touching. 

He assumed he would be sharing the bed with the Captain in as much as 
both hammocks were no where to be seen. That gave him mixed feelings. 
The big bed would be more comfortable than the swinging hammock. Also 
the hammock was hard. The more weight that was put on it, the harder 
the canvas became. 

Later that night, during dinner, the Captain had a flagon of wine on 
the table. They both drank heavily. Scott was feeling quite pleasant, 
he even enjoyed the Captain's gropings. He suddenly realized he was 
looking forward to a wild time in the new bed.

He was given the task of taking the dirty dishes to the ships galley.

Not more than ten minutes had elapsed before he re-entered the room. 
He could not believe his eyes. Jerry was sitting on the floor facing 
the bed.

"I thought I'd have yer little friend join us for the festivities. Eh? 
Hope ya like the idea as much as I do." The Captain began removing his 
clothes and tossing them in the corner.

He was naked, and he was at full mast. "Laddie, come take care me 
mast. I want you to show her just how well you take care of me."

Scott glanced at Jerry, expecting to see some reaction. But there was 
none. She simply sat there looking at the naked Captain and the naked 
boy.

The slave had no choice. He could not refuse. It was either obey the 
command or suffer the consequences, and he knew those consequences 
would be the death of both slaves.

The man had laid down upon the bed, face up. His hard cock was already 
dispensing some of that salty fluid. The boy moved up onto the bed, 
kneeling between the Captains legs. He was facing where he could not 
see Jerry. He tried to ignore her presence, and began his task.

The eager cock was harder than he had ever seen it. And there was much 
more of the fluid. He had finally overcome the strangeness of a third 
party in the room, and was doing his best to please his master.

"All right laddie. Stop for a minute. Girlie, come over here and watch 
closely as to how it is done."

Scott sat back, watching the girl come to the side of the bed. She 
looked first at the Captain large wet reddish penis, then at Scott's 
genitals. He then realized his cock was as hard and ready as was the 
Captains.

"Back to work Laddie. Show the Lassie just how well it can be done if 
ye put your mind to it."

As the cock slid between his lips he felt an excitement; one born of 
something different; an adventure.  He felt the Captain move slightly, 
and noticed he had pulled the girl so that her face was within inches 
of his own. Her close observation added a spice that increased his own 
passions. She could see the pattern of the boy's lips as they moved 
slowly down the long, pulsating tube. She watched the head move in and 
out of the mouth. 

A rhythm began to build as the fires of passion invaded both the 
Captain and his slave.

Again the Captain spoke. "Lassie! Yer to wrap yer 'and about me
laddies cock! You'll stroke it nicely as he does ' a fine job for
me "

The girl did as she was told. Her first touch came while the Captains 
shaft was buried completely in the boys mouth. Every detail of the 
mans penis was as intimate to him as was his own. But the girls touch 
sent a heat through him so intense that he thought he was going to 
cum.

Jerry didn't really care one way or another. What she was doing wasn't 
much different than milking a cow; and what girl didn't know how to do 
that?

On the other hand she was fascinated by the effect her manipulations 
were having on her friend. At first it had been an odd feeling. Quite 
unlike a cow's tit. Probably just as warm, but quite a bit harder. 

The boy's reaction had been something of a surprise. Upon initial 
contact, his buttocks jumped backward, then slid slowly into her hand. 
It was his mouth and what he was doing to the Captain that took her 
from a disinterested state of mind to an extreme case of curiosity. 
She found that when she squeezed the hard organ, he would almost 
swallow all of the Captains cock. If she increased her speed so did 
he. Experimentally she slowed her strokes, then paced them much 
faster. Her friend did like wise.

All of a sudden, the Captain let out a gasp, his body went rigid, and 
he started to moan. Not more than a second had passed and the boy did 
likewise, but his cock had gotten very hard, and hot, and it spurted 
forth a lot of juice most of which landed on the Captain's balls.

Scott had not known what to expect when he heard the Captain's order 
to work on him while he was servicing his Master. The first touch of 
the girls hand had been most pleasant. Then he concentrated on the 
cock he was sucking. The combination of the hot cock in his mouth, the 
extreme close view of the shaft, the pubic hair, and even the 
Captain's belly button, plus the touch of the girls hands upon his own 
shaft had made him lose all sense of reality. He lost control of what 
he was doing and began sucking in wild abandon as his own senses 
went into maximum overload.

Scott had collapsed between the Captain's thighs, his legs bent at the 
knees, his feet in the air. His chin was resting in the pool of warm 
cum he had deposited on the man's balls.

Then the Captain said something quite remarkable.

"You kiddies go on deck for a spell, while the old man gets a bit of 
rest. Don't be too long, I've got some things I want both of you to do 
for me."

The two naked slaves left the cabin and strolled back toward the poop 
deck.

"I'm going to escape. I'm going to do it right now. We have been 
passing small islands all day long. If I throw one of those empty 
water casks over board I'll have something to hold on to." Scott 
looked at the girl, then made up his mind to go further, "You want to 
come along?"

Without replying she dove over the side of the ship. Immediately Scott 
grabbed the empty water cask hurling it, then followed it into the 
dark Caribbean water.

The cold water, the darkness around him, and the adrenaline provided 
strength and ability far beyond the norm. The cask was no where to be 
seen, but it must be somewhere astern of him. He swam in that direction. 
The odd's were ten thousand to one against finding the empty cask 
in the darkness of night. But the gods must have been smiling at 
him as within a few minutes the still unseen container hit him in the 
side of head. The blow startled him. Instinctively he grasped the edge 
and tried to raise himself onto it, but the barrel rolled. Getting on 
top was not possible so he simply held on to it. And of course there 
was no way he could find the girl. Jumping over the side had been a 
stupid thing to do.

The dark hours slowly passed. Waves of fear passed over him as he 
clung to the cask. He grew very tired, yet he could not let go of the 
float. He wondered about Jerry. At first he had shouted and yelled, 
but the sounds of the sea masked his attempts; he could hardly hear 
himself. She couldn't have heard him if she had been twenty feet away.

He hoped he would be able to see one of those islands they had been 
passing the previous day; if only the sun would break above the horizon.

To stem the fear he relived the days events. His standing at the ships 
wheel. The new bed. The sexual play at mid day, and finally that 
incredible experience with Jerry and the Captain. Even his slavery 
aboard the Bloody Cutlass was better than what faced him now. 

With the first lightening of the night sky, came the hope that he 
could swim toward something; an island, a ship, even a floating timber. 
But as the sun rose and the day became bright and clear, he could 
see nothing but the sea in any direction. He began to weep as he 
realized that there would be no tomorrow. He wondered what it would 
feel like to die, to drown. Was there something beyond today in another 
world? Was there a heaven? He hoped so, he would like to see his 
father again. And he wept. If viewed from far above, there was only 
the broad sea and a small boy hanging on to an even smaller empty 
water cask.

"Hey Stupid! Why don't you let go of that silly barrel and sit up here 
with me." The voice was loud, and close by. The voice was Jerry's.  

Scott looked around him and saw only more water. A small wave crashed 
down on him and he choked on the mouth full of ocean he had swallowed. 
He figured he must have imagined Jerry's voice; it had sounded so 
close. Again he looked around; nothing.

"Scott get that little naked butt of yours up here with me; you need 
to dry off."

Again he looked around him; nothing.

"Up here dummy!"

His eyes followed the sound. There, some thirty feet above him was 
Jerry, still naked, but sitting on a billowy white puff of cloud. He 
couldn't believe his eyes. "How did you get up there?"

"Don't know. I spent hours trying to find you last night, and finally 
fell asleep. When I woke up I was up here."

"You got a rope or something that I could climb up there with?"

"Nope. Just use your imagination and try real hard."

Scott closed his eyes, and tried to think himself up to the cloud.

"You gotta try harder. Come on try it again." The girl was endeavoring 
to be helpful.

Years before, while still a small child, he had been on the roof of 
their barn, and had tried to will himself into flight like a bird. He 
had fallen off the roof into a stack of hay. His sister never let him 
forget it.

"Come on up here. I want to talk to you about what we did in the 
Captain's Cabin last night."

"Damn it Jerry, I'm trying."

"Close your eyes and try real hard."

Scott squeezed his eyes tightly closed and tried to imagine with all 
of his might that he was on the cloud with Jerry.

Then quite suddenly he felt a sharp pain at his waist; only for an 
instant. He opened his eyes, and lo and behold there was Jerry 
sitting right along side of him.

"See, I told you you could do it." She put her arm around his wet 
shoulders and pulled him against her dry, sun warmed breasts.

"You didn't tell me that getting up here would hurt."

"I don't remember any pain. I just fell asleep, and when I woke up, 
here I was. Maybe boys don't do it the same way."

Scott looked over the side of the cloud, down to where the empty cask 
was bouncing around on the ocean swells. "What's that next to the 
barrel." He pointed down to where he had been.

"I don't know. The water has turned red." They both stared at the red 
spot which seemed to getting bigger and lighter in color.

"Gawd. Look!" The boy's fingers pointed at three dorsal fins moving in 
a circle around the barrel.

"Jerry, I think we are dead."

"Pigeon Shit! Dead people don't get hard-ons." She pointed at the 
boy's crotch, where his member had risen to the occasion of the proximity 
to her bare breasts.

"Well, the center of that red spot was where I was just a few minutes 
ago. I think I just got eaten by a shark."

The girl contemplated this set of facts before replying. "Just like a 
boy. Get eaten by a shark and still want ta fuck. Daddy warned me 
about guys like you."

He moved his head from its comfortable resting spot and glared at his 
offending member. "You ought to be flattered that you could get it up 
for me, even after I WAS eaten by a shark. How many girls do you think 
could brag something like that?"

Silently they sat there, each wondering about their newly acquired 
anatomy. The only thing either of them knew was what they had heard in 
ghost stories. Being children and prankful, being a ghost might be 
fun. Neither considered terrorizing people as did ghosts in the tales. 
Their deaths were the result of their own dim-witted actions. But 
also, being children, they had no experiences to draw upon. Their 
wonderment was limited to basic things like what to do next so that 
they wouldn't be bored, or what to eat.

The idea of food had first crossed Jerry's mind, even though one would 
have expected the boy to be the first to clamor about eating. "Are you 
hungry?"

"No! I'm dead."

"Well ghosts have to eat don't they?"

"Don't know. I've never met one before."

Again silence reigned.

"Do you know any ghost stories?" Jerry was being tenacious.

Scott replied, "Naw. My grand dad used to tell some, but that was a 
long time ago. About the only thing I remember was something about a 
ghost being able to materialize, whatever that means."

Her hunger was being persistent. "Well it seems to me that ghosts 
survived on something called Ectoplasm."

"So where do you get it? What does it taste like? Gawd I'd hate for it 
to taste like Liver and Onions; Ugh!"

"In all the stories I ever heard they needed Ectoplasm to do anything. 
So you'd better start thinking about this if we are ever to get off of 
this cloud."

Again silence ruled.

"Shit! Your talking about food has got me hungry. Now what do we do?" 
Scott was turning testy, and quite unlike himself. In retrospect that 
surprised him, but then no one could ever say that being a ghost was 
ever like anything he had ever been.

"Well, Shit Head, we'd better start putting all of the things we know 
about ghosts on the table right now. We don't know what's going to 
happen next."

"The only three things I wonder about is can I still fuck, do we have 
to shit, and what do we eat?"

"Leave it to a boy to put his cock before his belly. But I am 
getting a craving for something. I don't quite know what it is ... 
yet."

"Ghosts travel. Ghosts can sometimes be seen by live people. What 
else."

"Well Ghosts can get hard-ons; yours was quite rigid when you first 
got up here."

"You're the one always talking about sex. What's with you? Do you want 
some dick, or is it that you want a dick?"

Again silence.

Many minutes later it was Scott that broke the quiet, "I'm sorry 
Jerry. It's just that this is so different, and I think I'd rather be 
back with the Captain than up here on a cloud not knowing what is 
gonna happen next."

"Well sex was the only point of your existence down there. You were 
the Captain's plaything, and from what I saw you were getting to be 
pretty good at it. Mind if I ask you something real personal?"

"Go ahead, I don't see any point in keeping anything secret. The more 
we know about each other the better we'll get along."

"Was the Captain your first sexual experience?"

"Yeah. How about you?"

"Yes, and no. Back on the ship I told you about how I hung around 
several other guys; they thought I was a boy. Well we used to whistle 
at girls and try to pick up on them. Being a girl, I knew what turned a 
girl on, so I could score three or four times to their one."

"What do you mean score?" Scotty asked.

"You know, make out."

The boy shook his head; he did not understand.

"You know try to play with their titties, or diddle their cunts with 
my finger."

The girl had gotten Scott's full attention.  This was different. 
"And?"

"Well there was this one Lassie who wanted more than I was prepared to 
give her. She started moving her hand up me leg, and if she kept it up 
she wouldn't find what she expected. So I got real aggressive. Well 
girls don't like that so she backed off. Shit, I could a fucked the 
hell out of here right then, cause I knew how to get up her skirts."

"What do you mean you could have fucked her. You ain't got no dick."

"That's why I backed off. But my bud's had been a watchin', so I had to 
be cool about it. The way that I had worked it she was the one that 
had brought the love'n to an end. 

"Later that night I was mulling this over, and I decide I was going to 
bury me sausage in her."

"What sausage? You ain't got one."

"Naw, but me dad did. A big Italian Sausage he was going to use for 
dinner. Well I got this piece of rope, and tied it around one end of 
the meat; real tight like. Then tied that around me hips. Now if she 
felt me leg she'd find what she expected; maybe even more than she 
expected.

"I snuck out, and walked around, trying to get used to that thing 
dangling between me legs. And who should I run into? The same wench 
that I'd been a diddling .. or almost diddling. Well, we took up right 
where we left off, only this time I didn't do anything wrong. I 
nibbled on her ear.. Damn, she went wild when I stuck my tongue in there. 
I kept my hands away from her cunt... that was going to have to be her 
idea.

"Well, sure enough, about the time I was sucken on her right nipple 
she reaches down and feels me pecker, and she likes what she finds, 
and starts to undo me trousers.  Well that wasn't gonna work. If she 
found that Italian Sausage the game would a been up. So I whispers to 
her we'd better find someplace more private.

"We found his old barn, and inside was as dark as dark can be.  So now 
everything is being done by touch. I get her down in this hay, get her 
skirts up... and her pussy was a drippin. I lowered me pants, and 
pushed the meat inside her. Well, she went wild, and humpen like 
nothin I'd ever seen before. She was humpen so hard I thought the rope 
was gonna break. But her humpen was pushen the sausage against me clitty 
and I really started gettin into it. We both went wild. I got her off 
at least a half dozen times." Jerry paused, a smile appearing across 
her lips as she fondly remembered the incident.

Unconsciously Scotty had his hand around his own hard cock as he 
listened to this strange story.

Jerry looked over at Scotty, then laughed, "Doesn't that thing ever 
get out of your mind?"

"Well, at least I got one to keep in me mind."

"Yeah, I know. After that night the story got round that I was the 
best stud in the territory, and all the girls wanted a piece of me 
sausage.

"Fortunately, me Pa travels, so we left town. If we'd stayed there 
much longer the truth would a come out, and I don't know what would a 
happened.

Then she chuckled, "The next night Pa's fixen dinner, and he's alooken 
for the Sausage. Well I had to 'find' it for him. So he cuts it up and 
then frys it with some onions, and serves it. Well I wasn't gonna 
eat what had been up that wenche's cunt, but Pa dove right in there and 
ate it all. His only comment was 'Jerry, don't wrap the sausage with 
the fish.'"

By this time Scotty was stroking his own sausage, and it looked like 
he was near his climax. But nothing happened, the feeling got to an 
incredible peak like just be for you shoot, but it just stayed that 
way. He had never experienced anything that fantastic; it was almost 
supernatural. 

He took his hand away and the feeling remained. He looked at his cock; 
it was huge... it was red ... it was ready; and it stayed that way. 
The smile of ecstasy changed to a smile of surprise. His eyes 
widened. "Was it going to stay that way forever?" He asked himself.

In the mean time Jerry is watching the boy, who had been rubbing 
himself, obviously sustaining a substantial amount of self gratification, 
which seemed to go on forever. She put her foot against Scott 
and shoved him off of the cloud.

The cold water immediately brought his rhapsody to an end. A moment 
later he was back on the cloud. "Thank's I needed that."

-----END of CHAPTER ONE "The Pirate Affair"------


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AUTHOR22


The Pirate Affair; Chapter 1 (M/M)