Date: Thu, 22 Oct 2009 16:45:15 -0700 (PDT)
From: Bill <bil47_new@yahoo.com>
Subject: Boys in the King's Navy, 1807

Boys in the King's Navy
By Bill

Place: Off the northwest coast of France
Time: 1807, during the Napoleonic Wars

The HMS Apollo had only been out of the Portsmouth Shipyard
for 3 days when she encountered her first action.  An armed
merchant ship was spotted, heading toward the French harbor
of Brest, trying to run the British blockade. Everyone
aboard the Apollo, from the captain all the way down to the
youngest ship's boy, was thinking one thing -- prize money!
If the ship could be captured intact, and especially if it
were carrying a valuable cargo, the proceeds from its sale
would nicely supplement their meager pay from the Royal
Navy.

The full complement of 285 officers, seamen, marines, and
boys was aboard the Apollo and in good spirits, ready for
the battle. The veterans of the warship's previous 3-month
cruise had just finished enjoying the luxury of 2 weeks of
shore-leave in England while the swift frigate was being
repaired, refitted, and supplied.  Replacement crew members
had been taken aboard to fill gaps caused by deaths and
serious injuries in battle, debilitating sickness, and the
inevitable desertions.

Drums sounded the beat-to-quarters, calling the men and
boys to their battle stations as soon as the French ship
was identified.  Sails and spars were set for fighting;
marines took their sharpshooter positions in the rigging;
the majority of sailors ran to the gun deck to prepare the
28 cannons for action; and the boys -- "powder monkeys" they
were called -- raced to get cartridges of gunpowder from the
powder magazine below-decks, delivering them into the
spark-proof boxes next to each of the 18-pounder cannons.
It was summertime, and all the men and boys on the gun-deck
had stripped off their shirts in preparation for the
literal heat of battle.

As usual, Benjamin Kitts was the first boy up to gun deck
with his powder, running barefoot at full speed, weaving
among obstacles and crewmembers along a route he'd traveled
so many times that he no longer gave it conscious thought.
The 14-year-old was a "ship's boy first-class", the longest
serving of the current group of powder monkeys and their
informal leader.  He was pleasing to the eye; short of
stature but solidly built; no longer the skinny waif he'd
been when he arrived on the Apollo.  His voice had just
recently signaled its intent to change, and his body showed
some clear signs of his emerging adolescence.

As Benjamin made his deliveries of gunpowder, he scoffed at
how slow and clumsy the new boys were in carrying out their
duties.  But he felt a soft spot for the new lads too.
He'd been in their place once, coming aboard ship for the
first time, confused and scared.  Like some of the other
ship's boys, he'd been sold to the Royal Navy at the age of
11 by the workhouse for orphans and cast-offs where he'd
grown up.  The son of a prostitute and God--knows-which of
her customers, he'd been a toddler when he was dropped off
at St. Katharine's Refuge for Boys (AKA St. Kitt's).
Arriving there with a first name but not a last one,
Benjamin was assigned the surname "Kitts".

When the powder boxes were filled and the battle loomed,
Benjamin stood at his station, ready to begin his run to
the magazine again as soon as the shooting started.  He
watched as the ship's gunner moved down the line of cannons
on the side that would fire first, checking their angle of
elevation and shouting out orders.  Amid the noise and
activity, a burly sailor came over to stand next to the
boy.  It was Big Murphy (so named to differentiate him from
fellow crew-members who went by Old Murphy and One-Eye
Murphy).

"Kitts, me lad!" murmured the muscular Irishman in a voice
barely audible amid the dim.  "Hows about I do you tonight,
down in the rope locker?  I haven't fucked your pretty bum
in a dog's age."  He reached over and gave Benjamin's butt
a quick grope.

Benjamin glanced up at the big man's face with a look of
disdain, but said nothing.

"I'll do ya whether you like it or not... and don't try to
fight me this time," said the sailor, his voice taking on a
threatening tone.  "After evening meal; in the rope locker.
You best be there, matey."

Benjamin still said nothing. It wouldn't have done any
good.  The last time Murphy had accosted him for sex, the
boy had tried to kick him in the balls, but he'd missed.
The only things resistance had gotten him were a hammering
punch to the belly, his arm twisted painfully behind his
back, and an even more brutish ass-reaming than usual by
the Irishman's obscenely-long and unnaturally-thick cock.

Sexual activity aboard the ship was technically illegal.
But it was generally understood that consensual activities,
engaged in discretely, would be tolerated.  And while the
rape of a ship's boy could be punished severely, there was
a code of silence among the crew, and boys almost always
kept quiet about such things.  Moreover, the ancient
traditions of shipboard culture dictated that a ship's boy
would provide sexual relief to sailors during the long
months at sea.  Not only that, but sex-play between two or
more ship's boys was so widely accepted that it was carried
out openly in the crew's quarters... often instigated and
watched by sailors for their voyeuristic amusement.

Most of the men aboard the Apollo were good-natured... even
flirtatious... in vying for sexual favors from the boys,
and Benjamin was often sought after.  He not only tolerated
this duty but enjoyed it as well... at least most of the
time.  When he'd come aboard 3 years before, he was already
well-accustomed to providing sexual service to the older
boys and adult warders at the workhouse... and engaging in
frequent sex-play with his peers and the younger boys.

But Benjamin didn't let his mind get distracted by thoughts
of sex.  There was a battle looming.

As the Apollo maneuvered for battle, the captain managed to
get to the rear of, and perpendicular to, the slower
merchantman.  The order for a rolling broadside, aimed
upward at the ship's masts and rigging, was intended to
cripple the French ship and cause its surrender without any
damage being done to the hull.  (If the ship had to be
pounded into submission, there would be less prize money;
none at all if the ship sank.)  The sound erupting from the
14 cannons was deafening, and the effects devastating,
taking out spars, ripping through sails, and wounding
sailors on-deck.  But when no surrender was forthcoming,
and a well-aimed shot from the French ship's aft gun hit
home, the Apollo came around to blast away at the
merchantman's side.

Controlled pandemonium ensued as the two ships fired at
each other.  The enemy ship was distinctly inferior to
Apollo in fire-power and the shooting skills of the crew,
but the French were doing damage too.  While Benjamin was
below-decks getting more gunpowder, a lucky shot from the
merchantman entered through a gun port, glancing off port's
edge and spraying large splinters through the crowded gun
deck as the heavy cannonball careened about.

When Benjamin ran up with his bucket of powder cartridges,
he almost lost his footing on the blood pooling beside the
lifeless body of Big Murphy.  A sharp splinter as long and
thick as the sailor's arm had pieced his groin, and the man
quickly bled-out where he lay.  Benjamin didn't have time
to gloat over the irony of the fatal emasculation as he
climbed over the body, dropped off the powder charges, and
made his way back to the magazine.  When he got there, he
spotted a boy cowering in the corner, shaken by the sights
and sounds of the gun-deck.

"Hey, mate!" shouted Benjamin.  "Get moving!"  He tried to
remember the kid's name.  He'd just come aboard 3 days
before in Portsmouth... a slight boy of 12 years and
totally new to life on a ship.  "If an officer sees you
like this you'll be in big trouble."  Benjamin felt a duty
to the ship, as well as a responsibility as the most-senior
powder monkey, but he wasn't going to hang around talking
while the battle still raged, two decks above.

By the time he got back to the gun-deck, however, the
battle was over, and the men and boys were cheering.  Only
one crewmember had died, though three others were injured
seriously enough to be taken to the ship's surgeon.  But
there was still work to be done, and the crew scurried
about securing cannons, clearing away the damage, and
washing the blood from the deck.  On the main-deck a small
crew was departing to board the merchantman to sail the
prize and the prisoners back to England.

When there was a call for "all hands on deck", Benjamin
went up with the others and assembled in his proper place.
The officers stood on the quarter-deck, above the crew.
Captain Westmoreland congratulated the men on the battle,
and a cheer went up from the crew when he hinted that good
prize money would be waiting when they returned to port in
a few months time.  And after he ordered a double-ration of
grog at the evening meal, an even louder cheer went up.
But when the cheering settled, the captain took on a grave
countenance and voice.

"Lastly, I regret to be informed that two of your fellows
were cowardly in battle.  Both are new to the King's Navy,
and I shall be lenient, but I will deal with them promptly.
Bosun, bring the accused forward."

A seaman and a boy -- the boy Benjamin had shouted at in the
powder magazine -- were brought out to face the crew.

The captain looked at a piece of paper and intoned:
"Ordinary Seaman Robinson... I find you guilty of cowardice
in battle. You are sentenced to receive 20 lashes with the
cat on your bare back, administered by Bosun's Mate Whitney
in the presence of the ship's men, to be observed and
recorded in the log by the First Lieutenant."

The captain looked down at the paper again.  "Ship's Boy
Third-Class Spitalfields...." He paused and muttered under
his breath to the lieutenant beside him "why DO the
workhouses give these whore-spawn such god-awful surnames?"
He cleared his throat and resumed.  "Ship's Boy Third-Class
Spitalfields... I find you guilty of cowardice in battle.
You are sentenced to receive 12 lashes, administered in the
usual way for boys, by Bosun's Mate Simmons in the presence
of the ship's boys, to be observed and recorded in the log
by...."  He looked over at the officers assembled beside
him on the aft deck.  "By Midshipman Grosvenor."

Chauncey Grosvenor was surprised to get the assignment, and
he blushed when it seemed that everyone was staring at him.
He was himself new to the ship and to sea... at 14 years
old, the youngest midshipman aboard.  He saluted the
captain smartly and then whispered to an older midshipman
to ask what he needed to do.  Chauncey was a somewhat
effete upper-class boy, but he was strikingly attractive,
with curly blond hair spilling from beneath his
midshipman's hat.  As the younger son of an aristocrat, it
had been determined that his career would be in the Navy.
His uniform was perfectly tailored, showing both his
family's wealth and the boy's well-formed adolescent body.

"That will be all," said the captain, who headed down to
his cabin before the floggings began.  When he passed by
Chauncey, he gave the boy a slight smile and a wink.  The
assignment was meant to flatter the boy, a conscious step
in grooming him for seduction.  As he entered his cabin,
the captain was thinking to himself: `What an extraordinary
beauty he is!  What a true pleasure it will be to take him.
It shan't be long before I invite the lad down here for
some brandy and conversation, spark his lust by showing him
my collection of pornographic engravings... ah, and then to
get into those wonderfully tight britches.... I do hope his
cock is as beautiful as the rest of him.'  Captain
Westmoreland latched his cabin door and unbuttoned his
britches, freeing his stiffening penis and taking it in his
hand.  `Yes; it will be such a pleasure to seduce him.'

On the main-deck, Bonsun's Mate Simmons turned to Benjamin.
"Kitts -- you'll attend the prisoner.  Here's the bit, if he
needs it."  He handed Benjamin a short, slender length of
wooden dowel, covered in leather.  In his other hand,
Simmons held a red cloth bag that contained the whip he'd
be using.  The "boy's cat" was a tamer version of the
infamous cat-o-nine-tails.  This cat had only five tails,
used thinner whipcord than its big brother, and lacked the
knotted ends that pierced flesh more easily.  It was still
formidable, however, and a boy didn't soon forget the pain
of a flogging.

The ship's boys - twelve in all, aged 11 to 14 - hurried
down the companionway.  They were smiling and whispering to
each other excitedly... clearly enjoying the prospect of
watching the punishment of a disgraced peer.

"What's going to happen to me?" murmured the hapless boy.

"Well, Davey," said Benjamin, remembering the boy's name;
"did you ever hear of `fucking the gunner's daughter'?"
The younger boy shook his head in puzzlement at the
apparent non-sequitur. "So, do you know what 'fucking' is?"
Benjamin inquired.

"Sure. It's when a boy takes a stiff willy up his bum."

"Yeah; that's it," said Benjamin.  "The `gunner's daughter'
means a cannon.  When you're getting your licks, you gotta
take off your britches and lie naked atop a cannon, like
you was fucking it.  You're lucky to get Old Simmons giving
it to you, though.  He's a right good bloke, and he'll lay
on your licks quick-and-over-with."  Simmons was also a
considerate sex-partner, Benjamin thought to himself, but
didn't mention it to Davey.  "Just do like I say, and
you'll get through alright.  You need to make up for being
a coward in the battle by taking the whipping right proper.
The most important thing is to never cry out."  He held up
the leather-covered dowel to the boy. "You put this-here
bit in your mouth and bite down hard while you're getting
flogged.  I'll hang on to it `til you're ready."

When the group reached the gun-deck, the bosun's mate
gestured to one of the cannons, using the whip as his
pointer.  "That there's your gunner's daughter.  Get
starkers, lad, so's you can give her a bonk."

Davey felt his heart racing as he glanced from the whip to
the cannon, but he steeled himself as best he could. It
comforted him to have Benjamin right there with him, and he
was determined not to let the older boy down.  Already
shirtless and barefoot, Davey untied the rope holding up
his over-sized trousers and they dropped to the deck.  He
stood completely naked, his body scrawny from years of
inadequate food.  Even without looking around, he knew that
the eyes of every boy on the gun-deck were checking out his
genitals.  The 12-year-old's slender downward-pointing
penis was of a respectable length for a pre-pubescent boy,
and his slightly-dangling scrotum held balls that had been
growing plumper in recent months.

Simmons was eying Davey's penis too, and said to him in a
sarcastic tone: "Before you can fuck the gunner's daughter,
you need to get your cock standing up."  He turned to the
increasingly boisterous boys behind him.  "Don't he, lads?"
The ship's boys laughed with approval and called out rude
remarks, increasing Davey's humiliation.  "Go on, lad.  Get
some wood in your pecker."

Davey turned to Benjamin, and the older boy nodded to
indicate that the bosun's mate was indeed serious.  With
his face blushing deeply, Davey began moving his foreskin
back and forth across the acorn-sized glans.  The boy's
penis twitched and gradually rose to an immature erection
that was undeniably handsome, with the cock-head pushing
out beyond the foreskin when Davey released it.

"That's it, lad.  Now sit up here," said Simmons, patting
the wide butt of the cannon barrel.  "And lean forward to
give your girlfriend a snog."

The lad clambered onto the cannon and lay down along it.
His boyish boner pressed against the brass barrel that was
still warm from having been fired five times in the recent
combat.  Benjamin, standing beside the cannon at Davey's
head, put the bit in the boy's mouth and held down his arms
at their skinny biceps.  The middle-aged bosun's mate stood
on the other side of the cannon and back from it, gauging
the whip's reach.

Of all the boys on the gun-deck watching the proceedings,
none was more captivated by the sight of Davey's naked body
and erect penis than the 14-year-old wearing the fancy
midshipman's uniform.  Chauncey Grosvenor felt a
combination of vicarious dread, voyeuristic excitement, and
erotic arousal as he gazed at Davey's bare buttocks,
exposed anus, and a glimpse of scrotum visible between his
wide-spread legs.  Bare-bottomed discipline at the hands of
a teacher was familiar to any upper-class boy, whether
administered with a slender cane, a bundle of birch
branches, a whip, or a man's hand.  Though he hadn't
attended a boarding school, where canings of students were
commonplace, Chauncey and his cousin had been privately
tutored by a young university graduate at the Grosvenor
family's country estate.  Receiving the teacher's sexually-
charged spankings, and watching his younger cousin get
them, was a frequent occurrence.  And now, as he waited for
the whip to fall, Chauncey folded his hands in front of his
crotch to hide the stiff erection pushing against his
tight-fitting britches.

The bosun's mate raised his arm and brought the cat down
hard.  It whistled through the air before cracking sharply
across Davey's slender buttocks.  The boy grimaced and
every muscle in his body tensed, but didn't utter a sound.

Rather than waiting 15 or 20 seconds before the next blow,
thereby prolonging the agony, Simmons quickly brought the
whip down again.  But then he paused and looked over at
Chauncey.

"Begging your pardon, sir, but shouldn't the observing
officer be counting them out."

"Quite so, Mr. Simmons.  That would be `two', then."

The cat whistled again.

"Three."

And the whip came down nine more times in less than a
minute, leaving an overlapping array of parallel red
stripes across the boy's up-raised butt.

Tears were running down Davey's cheeks when Benjamin
removed the bit from the lad's mouth, but he hadn't uttered
a sound.  When he climbed off the cannon barrel, rubbing
his tender bottom, his penis was still rigidly erect.
Noticing it, he quickly put on his trousers.

Benjamin was the first to congratulate Davey, clapping him
on the back.  "Well done, mate!"  And the other boys
gathered round too, offering friendly praise to the new boy
who had so recently been in disgrace.

"Alright, lads; time to get busy," said Simmons. "The cook
will be starting on evening meal soon.  Get along to the
galley and be helpful.  But don't go up on the main-deck
for a time, until the flogging is done with."  Simmons then
looked to Chauncey.  "By your leave, sir; I'll be tending
to my duties as well."

"Permission granted," said the young officer, his
aristocratic upbringing giving him total ease with being
the superior of lesser-ranking adults.  But what Chauncey
did next didn't come quite as easily.

"Kitts; hold back a moment. The rest of you boys carry on."

"Yes sir," said Benjamin, giving the customary loose-handed
palm-downward salute.  Although they were the same age,
Benjamin was shorter in stature and far less refined in
manner and appearance than the handsome upper-class boy.

"I've been informed, Kitts, that you are considered the
leader of the ship's boys.  Is that correct?"

"I suppose so, sir.  Been here longest of all the boys."

"I'm also informed by my peers that the boys aboard are,
well, accommodating toward dalliances of a carnal nature."

Benjamin tried to process the words, but knew immediately
that it was hopeless.  "Beg pardon, sir, but I don't
rightly know what you just asked me.  Sorry, sir."
Benjamin saluted again to reinforce his respectfulness.

Chauncey blushed a bit as he rephrased his words. "I, uh,
have heard from the other midshipmen that the boys
sometimes make themselves available to officers for, uh,
that is, to be... er, buggered and whatnot."

"Oh, yes sir!  That's a fact.  It's the practice, though,
sir, for an officer to give a farthing to the boy he's
fucking."  Benjamin got a seductive look in his eye,
thinking that he'd enjoy a roll with the midshipman, even
without the resulting money.  His hand subtly rubbed across
his crotch.  "Were you thinking, sir, that you might like
for me to...."

"I fancy that boy who was flogged.  Spitalfields, I believe
his name is."

"Yes, sir.  He goes by `Davey', sir.  I could set things up
for you, quiet-like.  Now if a farthing were to come my way
in return for my trouble...."

"Yes, Kitts.  That would be satisfactory."

"Well then, sir, come around to the crew's quarters at two-
bells of the last dog-watch [7:00 p.m.], after the evening
meal's been ett and the grog ration's poured.  That's when
there's some easy-time, and the men like to slip off to the
rope locker with a boy for a bit of fun.  You just look
around for me, and I'll give you the high-sign if Davey
will be your bum-boy."

"Jolly good!" said Chauncey, feeling the glow of
anticipation.

The two boys went about their business -- Benjamin to the
ship's galley; Chauncey up to the aft-deck to enter the
flogging in the ship's log.

Several hours later, after Chauncey had eaten dinner with
the other officers, he made his way to the crew's quarters.
He left behind his fancy jacket and hat, and wore just a
shirt and britches.  The crew had finished their own meal,
and had received their double-ration of watered-down rum.
A fiddle and a pennywhistle were playing, and a circle at
the center of the large room was cleared for performers of
sailor dances.  The open space was surrounded by
crewmembers who were seated, kneeling, and standing outward
from the circle.  Every so often, a sailor and a ship's boy
would discretely slip away together, headed in the
direction of the rope locker.

As Chauncey hung back in the shadows, watching it all, he
heard a sailor call out "Ain't it about time for some lads
to get up and do the Hindoo dance?"  Other sailors voiced
their approval, some of them calling out "Kitts!" as
Benjamin was nudged through the crowd into the circle.  He
polished off his half-ration of grog (which had been
doubled to a full pint) and handed the empty mug to a
sailor.  The fiddler and the pennywhistler began to play a
tune in an exotic-sounding key... an approximation of the
music of India, where the Apollo had once been home-ported
and where some of the men had served ashore for a time.
Benjamin raised his arms above his head and moved his hands
sensuously, while his hips swayed to the music.  Though
he'd never been to India himself, the dance was a tradition
among the ship's boys, learned by each powder monkey not
long after he came aboard.

In the warm air below-decks, Benjamin wore only his baggy
trousers, held up with a rope that he had already loosened.
As his suntanned torso swayed erotically in the dim light,
it wasn't difficult to imagine Benjamin as a harem-boy in
the court of a maharaja.

The waist of the trousers slid down as he danced, showing
off the top of his butt-cleft and the distinct "V" of his
lower abdominal muscles.  "Take `em off!" came a call from
a sailor, immediately endorsed by others.  Benjamin reached
down and loosened his rope-belt some more as he continued
to dance, and the trousers slid even lower, showing the
sparse growth of pubic hairs at the very base of his penis.
They had only recently appeared, but he was enormously
proud of this visible badge of advancing puberty.  With a
few more shakes of his hips, Benjamin's trousers slipped
down completely and he stepped out of them, kicking them
aside.

Now totally nude, with nearly a hundred pairs of eyes
focused on him, Benjamin continued his exotic dance.  He
moved in a way that made his three-quarters-mature penis
and his dangling ball-sack sway and bob enticingly.  Though
never touched, the penis began to lengthen, pulsing to
erection.  When it was fully stiff, the gorgeous young-teen
cock pointed straight up, almost touching his lower belly.
More than a few in the audience were fondling their own
cocks through their loose trousers as they watched Benjamin
dance erotically while sporting a full-on boner.

"Who ya gonna pick for a partner?" called out a sailor.

On their own, or nudged forward by the men around them,
several of the boys in the room moved closer to the circle.
Benjamin looked around at them, and called out "Jonesy!"

A sturdy lad of 13 years, the second-longest-serving of the
ship's boys, came into the circle.  He too was shirtless,
and his trousers already sagged enough to show a swath of
pale skin that was normally covered.  He began dancing in
the same manner as Benjamin, the two boys side by side.
When his trousers fell to the floor, his penis was already
erect... barely pubescent and totally hairless.  The two of
them now touched as they danced, their hands wandering over
each other's naked bodies, stroking each other's young-teen
boners or letting them rub together as if in a sword-fight.

When Benjamin put his hands on the other boy's shoulders
and pressed down, Jonesy obediently sank to his knees.
Amid the whistles and shouts of encouragement from the men,
Jonesy took Benjamin's erection into his mouth.  As his
lips began moving up and down along the adolescent cock-
shaft, he was sucking it a manner designed as much to
appeal to the audience as to elicit pleasure from the blow-
job's recipient.  For his part, Benjamin made the act a
sex-show as well, holding the other boy's scraggly hair
back so that it didn't cover up the sucking mouth on the
stiff cock.

After a couple of minutes of the pornographic show,
Benjamin nudged Jonesy to his feet and said in a voice
barely audible above the hubbub: "Jack me off standing
behind."

The 13-year-old came around behind Benjamin, spooning their
bodies front-to-back as his hands wrapped around Benjamin's
slender frame.  While one hand wandered over Benjamin's
chest and belly, the other began stroking the boy's rigid
erection.  He didn't dawdle at the task, but jacked the
penis in rapid and firm masturbation strokes.  The loud
groans coming from the older boy were only partially
contrived, as he felt his orgasm quickly welling up.  As
Benjamin arched his back into Jonesy's chest and grunted
with lust, a spurt of semen shot out of his cock and onto
the deck, accompanied by a cheer from the men and boys
watching.  Several more squirts emerged, encouraged by the
younger boy's expert masturbation, and then the two boys
moved apart.

Benjamin's part of the show was over, and he found his
trousers and put them back on.  But the show continued
without him, as Jonesy licked the cum off his fingers and
beckoned another boy into the circle for more of the erotic
display.

Sailors jostled to get next to Benjamin, eager for the
chance to accompany him down to the rope-locker.  But the
boy put them off, and they all took his rejection in good
spirit.  Benjamin scanned the room to locate Davey and then
brought him to where Chauncey had been waiting.

"By jove!" exclaimed the midshipman.  "That was...  I mean,
I've never....  It was jolly good, Kitts!"  Chauncey was
wishing he had chosen Benjamin for his first ship-board
sexual encounter.  But then he looked at Davey, smiling
sweetly at him, and his initial attraction to the boy
flooded back.

"Davey'll be at you service, sir," said Benjamin; "ain't
that right, lad?"

"Aye, sir," said the young boy in a cheerful high-pitched
voice, as he saluted. Davey was no stranger to providing
sexual service.  Any boy who grew up in a workhouse was
introduced to sex at an early age by older boys and the
warders.  At the workhouse in the Spitalfields neighborhood
of London, it wasn't unheard of for the warders to
prostitute their charges, selling their services to men
from outside the workhouse who fancied having a go with a
little boy.

Chauncey handed Benjamin a farthing, and the boy squeezed
the small coin in his palm as he brought his fist up to
salute. "Thank you kindly, sir."  Then Benjamin spoke to
Davey.  "Take the midshipman down to the rope locker, lad,
and take good care of his needs."  Benjamin went off to
decide which of the men would be his first of the evening.
He glanced around the room trying to spot the handsome
marine sharpshooter who'd come aboard 3 days earlier.
Benjamin had always been attracted to men in the ship's
detachment of Royal Marines.

Chauncey and Davey two slipped off together, heading toward
the bow of the ship to the room just below the forecastle.
The rope-locker had thick anchor-rope coiled in tall piles
on the deck, and thinner lines hanging from the ceiling in
long dangling loops to the floor.  There were plenty of
places where sexual activity could occur in semi-privacy;
even more places for those who didn't mind being watched.
The illusion of privacy was furthered by the room's
dimness, lit by a single whale-oil lamp, its wick set low.
Even after their eyes adjusted to the dark, Chauncey and
Davey could only vaguely make out a few of the paired
shapes... mostly men and boys, but sometimes two men
together.  There was no mistaking the sounds of sex,
however -- the wet slurping noise of cocks being sucked; the
slapping of skin against skin during vigorous fucking; the
moans and grunts of carnal pleasure; and whimpers of boys
having their assholes penetrated and pounded.

"Over here's a place, sir," whispered Davey as he took
Chauncey by the hand and led him to a nook at the side.
"What will you have me do, sir?"

Chauncey was totally aroused.  His heart was beating so
strongly in his chest that it seemed he could hear it.  He
took Davey into an embrace, running his hands across the
boy's smooth warm back.  He'd never had sex with a boy who
was essentially a stranger, and certainly never in the same
room as others having sex.  In fact, Chauncey's only other
sexual experiences had been his boyish sex-play with his
younger cousin, and a few furtive but blazingly-erotic
encounters with an older stable boy on his family's estate.
"Kiss me, Davey," he whispered excitedly, as he brought his
face down to the boy's and their lips touched.  At the same
time, his hands reached down to untie the lad's rope belt,
letting the trousers drop at his ankles.

Davey didn't have much experience with kissing.  Mostly it
had been with men who slid their tongues into the boy's
mouth during face-to-face fucking, as their orgasm neared.
He immediately opened his mouth for Chauncey, offering his
tongue.

The older boy was delighted to receive such an erotic kiss
and pushed back with his own tongue.  His cousin's kisses
had always been far more chaste and tentative.  But this
was exactly what Chauncey wanted... the innocence of his
sexual experiences with his pre-pubescent cousin, but with
a promise of the rutting lust and scorching sexual heat
that had characterized his encounters with the stable boy.

As their tongues wrestled aggressively, Chauncey reached
back and felt Davey's buttocks with both hands.  He could
just barely make out the haphazardly-parallel welts rising
up from the smooth skin.  This stimulated him in ways that
he didn't really understand, and he had always sought to
get his cousin alone and naked whenever the younger boy had
been disciplined, fondling and kissing his cousin's
reddened butt-cheeks.

"Does it still hurt?" asked Chauncey in a whisper.

"Not much, sir," murmured the boy.  It was still warm to
the touch and throbbed a bit, but was no longer painful.

Chauncey brought a hand around to fondle Davey's penis,
quickly bringing it erect.  As he stroked the slender
immature boner, Chauncey sucked the boy's tongue deeper
into his mouth.  The young midshipman's oral craving was
strong, and he knew what her wanted - to take the boy's
penis into his mouth.  Sinking to his knees, hugging
Davey's hips, Chauncey pulled the boy's crotch to his face
and opened his mouth to capture the stiff little cock.  His
tongue danced around the compact glans, and then his lips
slid all the way down the shaft.  Ah! Perfect!  Davey's
erection was so similar to that of Chauncey's cousin, which
he had sucked many times in their secret sex-play.

For his part, Davey was unaccustomed to having a sucking
mouth on his cock, but he loved it!  The older boy's lips
and tongue... the suction of his mouth... felt ever so much
better than when Davey gave himself a wank.  The lad's
delicate and high-pitched gasps of pleasure mingled with
the lower tones coming from throughout the room.  Davey
began thrusting his hips rhythmically.  The perfectly
proportioned little boner -- slightly longer than Chauncey's
middle finger and as thick as his thumb -- fucked into his
mouth with increasing speed... and the adolescent boy was
loving it!   He unbuttoned his own britches, reached into
his silk under-britches and began masturbating his stiff
cock.

Although Davey could eventually have achieved a delicious
dry orgasm had they continued this way, it was clear that
satisfying the boy was not the purpose of this encounter.
Chauncey stood up and pushed down on Davey's shoulders to
bring the younger boy to his knees.  The older boy's cock
stood up rigid and achingly-horny.

"Suck it!  Get me ready to bugger you."

The boy was well-versed in giving a suck, and as his hand
wrapped around the base of Chauncey's adolescent erection,
his mouth captured the sleek glans and pleasured it with
his darting tongue, toying with the foreskin.

"Ahhh!  That's it, boy!  Suck it deep too!"

Davey was game for that.  The midshipman's cock was
average-sized for a young teenager, but slimmer and shorter
than many of the men's cocks he'd sucked.  Bobbing his head
in a steady rhythmic pace, Davey took in a bit more of the
shaft his each downward plunge, psyching himself mentally
for the next step.  Next time his lips slid down Chauncey's
boner, they just kept going, all the way to where soft
blond hairs sprouted at its base.  Davey had willed his gag
reflex into submission, and allowed the cock-head to slide
into his throat.

"Oh, LORD!" murmured Chauncey, bringing his hands to the
boy's head and pushing it down to force his cock even
deeper before releasing it.  Davey's head came back up,
bobbing along the top half of the stiff penis again for
several quick strokes before plunging all the way down once
more, holding it there as his throat muscles massaged the
invading cock-head.  The boy knew he was good at this, and
he delighted in how it pleased the young officer.  He
continued for several minutes, giving Chauncey a blow-job
that was even more intense than the stable boy's efforts
had been.  Just before the craving for orgasm overwhelmed
him and sent his cum down Davey's throat, Chauncey pulled
the boy's head away.

"Shall I kneel down, sir, with my bum up?"  Davey wiped a
trail of saliva from his chin, and some snot from his nose.

"Yes," said Chauncey breathlessly.  "Do it!"

Davey spit on his fingers and brought them back to his ass.
Then he knelt down on the smooth wooden deck, his head
resting on hands folded as if in prayer, with his slender
buttocks raised high and wiggling invitingly.  The red
stripes left by the cat had nearly disappeared, but
Chauncey greedily ran his hand over the butt-cheeks again.
He felt a shiver of lust as he remembering the sight and
sound of the whip punishing them.

Chauncey pushed his britches and underwear down to his
ankles and knelt behind the boy.  He'd never fucked his
young cousin, who had whimpered in pain when he'd tried.
But he knew from his experiences with the stable boy just
how good it felt to sink his cock into a hot tight asshole.
He pulled back the foreskin, positioned his cock-head, and
thrust forward with his hips.

Davey dilated his anal muscle to accept the flared glans,
gritting his teeth and clenching his fists, but not making
a sound.  Once Chauncey's cock-head was inside, it would be
easy sailing from here on.  Davey relaxed his body and
began to appreciate the familiar sensations of a stiff
erection fucking back and forth in his ass.  The throbbing
soreness from his whipping merged in a surprisingly
pleasurable way with array of erotic messages his brain was
now receiving.

Meanwhile, Chauncey's mind and body were on a collision
course.  His brain was saying `slow down; make it last',
but his tumescent penis was demanding its orgasm as rapidly
as possible.  Not surprisingly the cock won, and Chauncey's
hips began to buck rapidly in response to his craving for
sexual release.  The teenager's erection plowed the younger
boy's tight asshole and rectum, hard and fast.

Davey knew it wouldn't last long, and he bore down hard on
the cock sliding in and out of him, making his asshole
wonderfully tight.

Chauncey wanted to shout his passion out loud, and it was
all he could do to restrain himself.  But as his adolescent
stunk spurted deep into the boy's guts, he murmured "Ahhh!
Hellfire and damnation!"  It was as much of a curse as his
refined sensibilities allowed.  When the thrusting stopped,
he kept his spasming cock deeply embedded in Davey's chute,
his body awash in carnal pleasure.  And the younger boy
kept enhancing the experience, squeezing his anal muscles
around the cock... a technique that pleased Davey as well.

When Chancey finally pulled out, he turned Davey around to
face him.  They kissed again, both on their knees, locked
in a powerful embrace.

"That was absolutely smashing!" murmured Chauncey in the
boy's ear.

They stood, quickly arranged their clothing, and slipped
out of the dimly-lit den of sexuality... both of them
knowing that a return visit would soon be forthcoming.
Chauncey pressed a ha'penny into Davey's hand.

"Thank you kindly, sir!" said the boy, grinning broadly and
saluting.

As they began to make their way back to the crew's
quarters, they ran headlong into Benjamin and a marine
corporal, walking toward the rope locker.  The man's
crimson uniform jacket was unbuttoned, giving a glimpse of
his smooth and finely-muscled torso.  Both of them saluted
the midshipman, and as they passed in the narrow
passageway, the corporal gave Chauncey a sly wink, as
Benjamin and Davey grinned at each other knowingly.

End of Part 1
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