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wanderingsoul
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The Captain's Favor
He held the end of the barrel of the pistol against the padlock and pulled the trigger. The lock shattered. “They simply do not make locks like they used to,” he murmured softly. “I wonder what pretty treasures our friends here have seen fit to leave so poorly secured?” His voice held none of the coarseness associated with the usual brigands of the sea. In fact, it was a soft voice, a well-educated voice—one which would be more expected to grace a drawing room than the deck of a pirate ship. “Shall we see?” He kicked the chest open with the toe of his boot.
“Look’s like it’s jus’ a lady’s chest, cap’n” one of the crew spoke up. There was obvious disappointment in his voice. Doubtless he had been hoping for gold or at least jewels.
He nodded. “Aye, most definitely, Ames.” He reached down and pulled out an ivory brocade gown, trimmed in robin’s egg blue velvet. “Of course, it could belong to one of our friends here.”
He held it up as he walked toward a short, stiff-lipped, grey-haired man wearing the uniform of the King’s navy. He smiled, a smile that did not quite reach his dark green eyes. “But I don’t really see this as your color, my lord captain.” He held it up to the captain’s face and shook his head. “No, definitely not.”
He turned to a younger man, a tall, fine-boned lad, also wearing the uniform of the King’s navy. “But you…” he smiled almost kindly—except this smile, too, did not reach his eyes. “…this could have been made for you. See how the blue just matches his pretty eyes.”
The crew laughed as one. And perhaps their laughter was genuine—and perhaps they knew better. The young officer raised his chin and spat in his face. The laughter ceased immediately. “I demand you release us and put us off this ship at once, pirate!” he intoned boldly.
“You’ll not talk so insolently to the Captain!” his first mate moved to strike him, but the Captain grabbed his wrist in a swift, easy movement.
“Easy now, my dear Deveraux,” he chided gently. “We must show our guests some courtesy.”
He looked up at the young officer and raised his brows slightly. “Ye be wantin’ to be put off this ship, do ye?” The voice was a harsher, coarser, much more what was expected.
He walked down the line slowly, looking into the faces of each of the prisoners. There were four in all. Four who had managed to swim from the burning, sinking vessel to the ship of their captors. Four who had most assuredly realized by now that they had jumped—or had swum—from the frying pan straight into the fire. All of the rest, the less fortunate of the ship’s crew and passengers, had gone down with that doomed vessel. Or perhaps they were the more fortunate.
“Which of ye also be wantin’ to be put off this ‘ere ship? Speak up, now, don’ bite ye tongues.”
The captain stood stiffly, looking straight ahead. He hadn’t expected a response from him. Any decent captain would have gone down with his ship. That meant that he was either a fool or a coward. Either way…
The woman raised her eyes to him. They were pleading eyes, pretty eyes, robin’s egg blue eyes. The dresses undoubtedly belonged to her. “Please, sir…” He raised a hand and she stopped. He bowed slightly and he could see a look of hope in her eyes, eyes that now fluttered prettily as she looked up at him from under her lashes.
His lip curled slightly in an expression of distaste, but it was fleeting and was swiftly replaced by a broad leer…which still did not touch his eyes. “No need, me lovely. I’m sure I understand wha’ cher wishin.”
He moved to stand in front of the last of the prisoners. He wasn’t much more than a boy. Barely out of his teens, if that. He was tall and slender, but with a fair pair of shoulders, shoulders which were thrown back in clear defiance. The blonde hair that clung damply to his flushed cheeks was as gold as a newly minted guinea and could have framed the face of an angel.
He met the eyes of the boy, half expecting them to be soft and innocent angel’s eyes. And they were beautiful eyes, no question about that. They were blue or maybe they were green. The light played strangely on them and made it difficult to tell. But whatever color they were, there was no softness, no innocence in them. Instead they flashed with hatred--pure, unclouded, undisguised hatred. And he had noticed as his eyes had taken in the details that the boy’s fingers twitched slightly, as if they longed to reach for a sword. Interesting.
“And ye? What is it ye be a wishin’?” he nearly purred the words. And he felt his first mate stiffen beside him. His lips twitched slightly.
---
And by and by my Soul returned to me, And answered "I Myself amd Heav'n and Hell"
Omar Khayyam
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2/8/2005, 2:18 am
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MarkL15
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Re: The Captain's Favor
Seth hung his head, watching the water drip on to the wooden boards beneath his feet, he was not quite ready to acknowledge what had just happened. Outwardly he knew he looked submissive and vacant, inside his mind was at war. He had learnt long ago that being able to hide your true feelings was the difference between life or death. He knew he should be worried, he knew that he should fear pirates, you always heard tales of the terrible things they did. Yet Seth would fear them no more than he feared those standing next to him, he had seen many men of noble blood do much worse than what pirates were rumoured to do. He had often experienced that himself first hand.
His mind drifted to the memory of Andre, a noble lord and lover of horses, a giant of a man, with cold eyes of steel that only lit up when one of his true passion arose, of course his true passion were horses, young men and having power over them. Of course only those that experienced this side of him knew about it, and Seth knew about it, for a full year he got to experience the true nature of the lord he worked for. Inwardly Seth felt himself smirk as he remembered, it had not all been bad, in fact rarely any of it was. He had been just 16 when he had arrived to work in the stables for Andre, and whilst he had always possessed the young angelic features that had saved his life more than once, he was anything but angelic. Andre had mentioned a few times that he was the devil using an angel as a disguise, how very perceptive Andre could be at times.
Seth was dragged from his thoughts as he heard a gun shot, he hoped that it was one of his fellow survivors receiving a bullet in the gut. Barely moving he raised his head slightly and glanced to look at his fellow survivors, much to his disappointment they were all alive, wet but alive and uninjured. He did not make it a rule to hate people, but he had found it had slowly become easier to hate them and wish for their death and torture. Of course he was not one to wish it on everyone who crossed his path, he was not a mindless killer, only those that truly deserved it, lost their lives.
He let his eyes wander to his left as the captain of this ship taunted Derek, he saw the red rise on his cheeks as the crew laughed at him. Inwardly he felt his own laughter try to rise from his throat, but he controlled it. If only the captain knew how close that remark was, and perhaps he did after seeing the anger it had ignited in the useless boy who would never be a man, no matter how many titles he had. Derek managed to spark a deep loathing in him just by the mention of his name.
It was his fate that he should survive the ship with one of the people he despised the most, the lord over there had made his life a living hell whilst he was aboard that ship. It was simply because Seth refused to give him what it was he desired when he demanded it. It was laughable that someone such as Derek was attracted to men, laughable because he was to be married to the lady Eleanor who stood beside him shivering pathetically.
She was someone men wanted, lusted after, more than that she was a whore with a fancy name and fancy clothes, nothing more. Yet he had more respect for her than that of her fiancé, even though she had come to him on many occasions to seduce him. He had on some level understood her desire for him, he was the youngest aboard the now sunken ship, he held younger features than he was, in truth he was now 19, yet many would see him as younger. It was often a mistake that cost men and women their lives, because they associated young blood with innocence. She had come to him as her fiancé had before, He had laid with her as he had with many before, as he had with Lord Derek. He had held little desire for either of them, and the next time they came to him he would tell them this with a cold smirk on his lips.
They of course did not understand, they never did, after the first time they viewed him as their whore to be taken whenever they choose. He almost pitied them, like the many before them, he was not their whore and never would be, he did what he did because he choose to. It did not matter to him who was on top, or what titles one possessed, he was always in control, he had learnt to gain that control from Andre. So when they came back for more he would decline, making them know what it was he really thought of them, he lived for that look of humiliation they would get as they realised what had happened. He often danced with death when he played this game, but he played it well, he would rather die than ever become anyone's whore.
Until now he had escaped every game alive, and he knew that was mostly because he caught them off guard and also because he was good with a sword or even a dagger. Another thing he had learned from Andre, how to use a weapon, poor Andre could not have known it was a natural talent that he would refine to the point he had found himself impaled on his students sword. Andre had not been Seth's first kill, and he would not be his last.
He pushed back the thoughts and thought about the ship sinking, the irony was that in two days they were to dock at some small town. He had planned to slaughter a fair few of the men on that ship whilst their guard was down and he could escape. He would the be rid of that ship forever, as it turned out he would never get that revenge and for the first time he raised his head and looked around feeling anger coarse through him, the kind of anger that he felt before he killed.
The captain was stood in front of Eleanor, and for the first time since being taken captive he allowed himself a look at the captain. He was surprised at the man standing there before Eleanor as she batted her eyelashes and asked to be taken in every way she could without speaking. The captain was not what Seth had expected him to be, and he felt himself admire the dark hair that fell to his shoulders and the tanned features of a perfect face except for a few scars. He found his eyes were drawn to his lips, they were not cracked and dry like many of his crew, they looked soft and full. Though it was his eyes that Seth felt unable to draw his own eyes from, they were beautiful eyes, like the colour of the sea, he had expected brown eyes, not ones that shone like emeralds. Yet he also noticed they were cold eyes, eyes like that belonged to men who would gently caress your cheek before backhanding you across the room. He thought of Andre's eyes and how at times they could appear so kind, before they went cold.
He felt a flash of anger run through him, he should not be here, he felt hate fill him all too easily now as he thought of his situation, of how he was denied his revenge on Derek and how he had escaped one prison to be in yet another one. He suddenly felt himself looking into those eyes that belonged to the captain, cold eyes that were kind before they were cruel and he thought of Andre and the times he had seen cold eyes warm before going cold once again. He felt the hate fill him too much to try and disguise and his fingers twitched for a sword or a dagger, so he could take those eyes from the man before him and stop the memories that filled his mind.
He felt himself drawn from his thoughts as the captain spoke to him, a rich well educated voice that purred the way a cat would. He thought of the question he had just been asked and let his eyes wander to those next to him. He would happily die in this place if he got to see those go first. Returning his gaze to the captain he slowly let his eyes trail over the captains body before returning his gaze to those intense eyes that watched him.
"I want nothing more at this moment than to watch the fate of those stood beside me, even if it is to be my own fate"
He spoke slowly to prevent him stumbling over the words, and he knew he sounded strong and sure of himself, despite the salty sea water making his throat to dry and his voice hoarse. He noticed the look on the face of the man beside the captain and felt a smirk form on his lips. He knew the signs of jealousy when he saw them.
---
And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
Goo Goo Dolls - iris
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2/10/2005, 9:28 pm
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wanderingsoul
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.
Matthew Thorne, Captain of the Black Swan—one of the fleetest ships that ever sailed the seven seas, and one of the most deadly of brigand vessels—raised one dark brow. “You have bold words for such a young lad.” He had abandoned the pretense and his voice was once more soft and elegant. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a pistol—a twin of the one he had used to shatter the lock. “And insolent eyes.”
He put the barrel of the pistol against the boy’s temple and let it rest there while he looked into those insolent eyes. “You would damn me to hell with those eyes, wouldn’t you, boy?” he murmured softly. He pushed back a lock of golden hair that clung to the boy’s cheek—a cheek he noticed was slightly more pale than flushed at the moment— with the end of the pistol—and traced the curve of that pale cheek down to his lips. The cheek was pale, but the smirk did not waver.
“And insolent lips, as well.” He ran the end of the barrel over the boy’s lips. They looked slightly dry from the salt water, but still looked soft—and inviting. Inviting, alright. Those lips would invite him straight to hell, if he had read those eyes correctly—or the twitch of his fingers. “And you would curse me with those lips, wouldn’t you, boy?”
He smiled, and for a moment, the smile reached his eyes. But it was only a moment. The boy’s lips parted slightly—most likely to release the words that matched the look in his eyes—and he pushed the barrel of the gun between those lips, and into the boy’s mouth.
“Do not speak those words, boy. I am a tolerant man, when it suits my purpose. But my tolerance has limits and it does not extend to insolence from striplings—even pretty ones.”
He withdrew the pistol from the boy’s mouth and turned toward the other three captives. He rubbed his fingers over his chin, a chin rough with the stubble of a missed morning shave. “But you make me consider more carefully the fate of our…guests.”
He glanced at his first mate. Devereaux was making no attempt to disguise his hostility toward the young lad. And he, too, recognized jealousy when he saw it. “Devereaux, my friend,” he purred, “do stop displaying your feathers and join me over here, will you?” His first mate flushed to the roots of his pale blonde hair, but was at his side in an instant. Thorne flashed him a quick smile that was little more than a twitch of the lips, but he knew it would be noticed.
“Aye, Captain. What is your command?” Always eager to please, his Devereaux.
“Our friend here,” he gestured to the young officer, “is apparently dissatisfied with our hospitality and has expressed a desire to be put off this ship.” He smiled at the young officer—a slow smile that seemed to slither across his lips like a snake. “Never let it be said that our guests remain unsatisfied. Put him off the ship, Devereaux.”
The first mate gestured to the crew member who stood behind the young officer and he immediately started pushing him toward the edge of the ship.
“It is, of course, a bit cliché, but putting guests off the ship by having them ‘walk the plank’ is such a pirate tradition—and tradition must be served.”
The young officer was visibly shaken and Thorne could see he was struggling between maintaining the dignity of an officer of the fleet—and pleading for his life. His lips curled.
“Just a moment, Leary.” The crew member, Leary, stopped and turned to look at the captain. The words had been spoken quietly, but the crew knew well to listen carefully for his slightest command, or suffer the consequences.
“Our friend here does not look quite up to what I am sure must be his usual standards. We cannot send him off to meet his maker in a torn uniform.” And there was a rip, about 4 inches long, in the back of his coat, and it was accompanied by a slight stain of blood. “I’m afraid he has stained his uniform, as well.” Thorne thought it most likely he had sustained a minor wound while attempting to run away. He had no tolerance at all for cowards—especially those obviously nobly born.
“Mr. Devereaux, would you be so kind to have this man stripped to the skin.”
His command was acted upon immediately by Leary and Ames and in no time the young officer stood naked before them. “Of course, leaving this world as you came in would be a just and fitting circumstance for most men. But it is hardly worthy of a gentleman of your station.” He retrieved the brocade and velvet gown he had left by the feet of the young woman. “It is a good thing that madame here is a lovely buxom wench.” He leered at her then ran his eyes slowly over the officer’s naked body. “And your…delicate frame is nearly feminine anyway.” He ran his hand over the officer’s shoulder and down his side. “You should have no difficulty fitting into this fine gown.”
He could see the humiliation in the officer’s eyes, even as he struggled to keep his face expressionless as the crew members forced the gown over his head and onto his body. “Do lace it up properly, lads. We cannot have our fine friend looking anything less than perfect.”
Leary and Ames looked at each other quickly and Ames spoke up hesitantly. “Cap’n, ain’t neither one of us ever laced up a lady’s finery, sir.”
Captain Thorne laughed loudly. “I daresay you haven’t! But you’ve likely unlaced your share, I’ll wager!” He spun the officer around by his shoulder, exposing the unlaced back of the gown. “Well, I’ve laced one or two, so have no fear, my friend, you will not go to your maker looking like last night’s trollop.”
He ran his hands over the officer’s exposed back. “So smooth and uscarred.” If there was bitterness in his voice, it was nearly imperceptible. “But of course who would touch a fine noble gentleman officer harshly?” When he had done with the laces he leaned close to the young officer, so close that his breath brushed against the officer’s skin as he whispered, “You make a very pretty woman.” He ran a hand slowly down his arm. “A pity we won’t have more…time together.”
He looked up at Deveraux, whose fingers were twitching nearly as badly as the young lad’s had been. “He is all yours, my love.” He said the last two words very quietly, loud enough only for his love—and the young officer—to hear. “Do with him what you will, but see to it that he departs our ship looking no less presentable than he does now. I will not have him denied admittance to whatever heaven he has because his appearance is shoddy.”
He turned to the young lad. “By all means, indulge yourself and watch our friend’s fate. But do not fear it will be your fate, as well. I somehow do not think you are quite to my Devereaux’s taste.”
He heard a sharp intake of breath behind him and saw the flash of emotion in Devereaux’s eyes as he swung the young officer around and with no wasted motion forced him up the steps to the plank and pushed him roughly over the side.
Thorne’s lips twitched slightly. “Apparently our young officer friend was not to his taste either. A pity.”
---
And by and by my Soul returned to me, And answered "I Myself amd Heav'n and Hell"
Omar Khayyam
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2/11/2005, 5:32 am
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MarkL15
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Re: The Captain's Favor
Seth felt the cool cold metal against his temple and felt a slight shudder run through him, he did not fear death but he respected it, he understood it for what it was, a weapon used by many. Just as this captain tried to use it as a way to intimidate him, Seth had become immune to intimidation by the tender age of 10. He would not deny that inwardly he was not as cool as he appeared to those who lay their eyes on him. His pulse was racing and it took every ounce of his self control not to shiver. But it was not fear that did this, it was the anticipation of death, it excited him.
Seth wanted to grin as the captain spoke, instead he settled for letting his emotions run through his eyes, he would damn anyone to hell who did not know well enough to kill him. Fools who saw him as an innocent boy, they had all been damned, yet he was sure the man now tracing the pistol along his cheek new very well that he was closer to the devil than the angels.
He felt the cold metal of the gun run over his lips causing shivers to run through him, being this close to death made him feel excitement like nothing else. Not even pure primal sex nor the excitement he felt when he killed, no nothing compared to knowing someone could take your life away. Andre had let him see the pleasure to be found in having your life almost taken away, the thrill it gave you, the sex was always notably more intense after Andre had nearly killed him.
He felt insane laughter build in his chest as the captain commented about his lips, and wondered if the captain was substituting the gun for something else. As he continued to look at the man before him, he noticed those eyes warm ever so slightly as he smiled, his eyes shone bright and Seth felt a deep sadness as that light left them. For it left them beautiful and cold, it was a combination Seth could easily hate.
Seth felt words build within him as he looked into those cold eyes, he was not sure what words he wanted to say, but most likely they would be words that would cause the trigger to be pulled. He had been told more than once that he had a sharp evil tongue, that it would be his downfall. Seth did not doubt that for one second. But at this moment he wanted to test the man before him. He wanted to ask him to pull the trigger, or to replace the gun with his **** like he obviously desired. As he opened his mouth he felt the laughter grow within him as the captain pushed his pistol inside. Seth mused that the pistol definitely was substituting, and he felt slightly glad that he was unable to speak. He let his tongue run over the cold metal, tasting the gunpowder, tasting his death.
He smirked inwardly at the captains words and continued to trace the metal of the gun with his tongue, a man with such pride would always be a challenge. The captain slowly withdrew his pistol and he felt his smirk return to his lips. If that was what he had really wanted to push into his mouth he would not be so quick to withdraw it. This could prove interesting, if he lived long enough he could enjoy pushing this man to his limits, a challenge always excited him.
Seth watched the interaction between the Captain and the man he called Devereaux, he felt his smirk grow at the obvious hatred and jealousy he was displaying. He obviously saw the captain as his personal property, and for that Seth considered him a very big fool. He wondered why a man like the captain would choose to take one such as Devereaux, he was a snivelling weasel of a man.
Though Seth assumed he must be the best of the crew, pirates never tended to be the nicest thing to look at, still Seth was not against muscle and sweat. Besides if he became desperate enough he could make sure he never had to look at their faces and see a mouth full of rotten teeth framed by dry cracked lips. He noticed Devereaux look at him with a look of pure hatred and he smirked back, and refrained from blowing him a kiss.
Seth watched with interest as the captain ordered Derek to be stripped down, and felt a deep satisfying feeling as he saw the humiliation on his face. Derek deserved much worse than he was ever likely to receive, even on a ship of pirates. It was him who had ordered four men to beat Seth unconscious and leave him in the brig for two weeks. It was not the beatings that he had received that made him hate Derek, for he had received much worse than they had dared to give him. No the thing that angered him so was that Derek never laid one precious finger on him. He was a pathetic coward that could not even admit why he ordered for him to be beaten steadily for two weeks. Seth may have had more respect for him if he had tried to take what he desired by force, but not Derek, he could not even get the guts to strike him once.
He flicked his eyes to the captain of the now sunken ship, he had been the one to find him in the brig, battered and bruised, he had ordered Eleanor to nurse him back to health. For that he had intended to spare his life, but the captain had never seen any reason to punish those who had held him prisoner. Seth still felt bitter resentment towards the old man, he viewed Seth as someone unworthy of receiving any justice. But he had undoubtedly saved his life and for that he would have let the old man live, though now that was no longer his choice.
He watched as they placed one of Eleanor's many dresses on Derek, he thought the dress suited him much better, he should have been a girl. His eyes followed the captains hands as they caressed Derek's perfect skin, he knew that the skin there held no scars, it was immaculate. He believed only women should hold such perfect skin, women who do little but stand there and look pretty. Anyone who claimed to be a man should bear the scars of becoming a man, and that is why he would always view Derek as a selfish little boy.
Seth felt a shiver run through him as he toyed with the idea of what it was that Devereaux may do to Derek, he had many fantasies that he was very sure Derek would hate but secretly love. He turned his gaze back to the captain as he spoke to him and admired that smooth voice that was like silk. He did not feel any relief at the captains words, for that to happen, he would have had to be hopeful and he wasn't, he felt very certain he would die aboard this ship, even if that would not be today.
He too heard the sharp intake of breath from Devereaux, Seth felt a small smile play on his lips. Devereaux had obviously wanted the captain to also hand him over to do as he wanted. He watched as Devereaux tossed Derek off the side of the ship and smiled coldly at the captains words.
"I thought all pirates were into torturous deaths, not easy ones"
He knew his words were trouble, knew he was inviting it, but he was angered that Derek's death had not been worse. He had planned his death many times in those two weeks, and it was always going to be a painful and nasty death. Speaking out may invite trouble, but he was aboard a pirate ship and saw that sooner or later trouble would find you no matter how quite you were. He felt a bitter grin cross his lips briefly. If he was going to die aboard this ship, he intended to have as much fun before he too met his maker.
---
And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
Goo Goo Dolls - iris
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2/11/2005, 9:14 pm
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wanderingsoul
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Re: The Captain's Favor
Captain Thorne regarded the boy silently for a moment. It was very clear he was disappointed. A bloodthirsty young lad? Or one with a grudge? No, he doubted it was anything quite as simple.
“A man’s death should reflect his life,” he said coldly. “A death graced with the exquisite pain of torture is reserved for those who have earned it—at least on my ship. Those for whom life is a waste of skin deserve an ignominious death. And as much as it pains me to deny you your entertainment, our young officer friend likely deserved no more than he received.”
Captain Thorne turned and looked at the captain of the fallen vessel and nodded to the crew member who stood behind him. He gestured with his hand, a slight beckoning gesture, and immediately the prisoner was brought to stand before him.
He glanced quickly at the boy, half expecting to see the same hatred in his eyes as he had seen when the boy had regarded the now released-to-the-sea prisoner. But instead he saw something much less—he saw disdain. The boy’s blood did not burn for this man, but he held him in contempt. And in that, they were agreed. He regarded the grizzled man before him as any captain would look upon another who had failed to descend into the depths of the sea with his ship—without respect.
He reached down and withdrew a deadly looking dagger from his boot and in one swift movement ran the blade across the captain’s throat. He nodded and the crewmember dragged the still twitching body to the side of the ship and pushed it over.
Captain Thorne removed a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the blood from his hand and then from the blade. He tossed the handkerchief over the side and returned the dagger whence it had come.
He moved to stand before the young woman. Hers was a beauty to be appreciated—a soft, rounded beauty that invited a man rest his head between her breasts and his **** between her legs.
He reached out his hand and wrapped his fingers lightly in her hair, hair that fell loose about her shoulders and hung nearly to her waist. And his thought was long enough to tie to the bedpost but instead he said, “Your beauty is second only to Botticelli’s Venus, my lady.”
And he was rewarded with a simpering smile and a flutter of long lashes that framed the most beautiful, most vacuous eyes he had ever seen. His lips curled slightly. “But beauty without substance is like a painting of a keg of rum—a tease for the eyes that will never quench your thirst.”
“Yer ain’t gonna put ‘er over, are ye, Cap’n?” Ames had been with Thorne since he had first stepped aboard the ship. He was as close as they had to a ship’s doctor—though Thorne had long since vowed to himself to chew off his own hand rather than have him tend to any of his wounds. But he was a loyal member of the crew who would fight to the death for his captain—provided there were good spoils to be gained in the fight. A pirate in the truest sense of the word. And Captain Thorne respected him more than he respected most men.
“Now, Ames, my friend, do you think I would be so unchivalrous?” He smiled reassuringly at the woman, who had paled visibly at his previous words. “Do not fear, my lady,” he offered softly, and could see her relax, the color starting to return to her fair cheeks, “beautiful flesh such as yours should not be wasted upon the sharks.”
He turned to Ames. “Since the ship’s spoils were unfortunately lost to the sea, it is only right and fitting that you and the rest of my fine crew should receive some form of restitution for such loss.” He turned and took the lady’s hand and pulled her forward. He bowed slightly to Ames and made a sweeping gesture to include the crew. “I give you your restitution.”
He turned to the boy, his lips in a hard line, ignoring the shrieking his words had elicited from the lady. “So that just leaves your fate undecided.”
---
And by and by my Soul returned to me, And answered "I Myself amd Heav'n and Hell"
Omar Khayyam
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2/13/2005, 2:24 pm
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MarkL15
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Re: The Captain's Favor
Seth noticed the coldness that seemed to run through the captain as he spoke, he was obviously one who did not take well to having his judgement questioned. Seth decided that it was likely that very few on this ship questioned him, and those that did probably were no longer part of his crew. He felt a slight shiver run through him, the captain certainly had power, something that was always good to find in a man who looked as fine as this captain.
Seth considered the words of the man before him and tried to not let his eyes wander to obviously over the frame of the man before him. He could understand the reasoning words, and maybe Derek deserved no more than to drown in a dress. Yet he could not let go of the resentment that he had not quite been able to get his revenge and make Derek suffer. He had suffered various things in his young life and he had always vowed to enjoy them rather than suffer them. But some things he simply could not take pleasure in, like those two weeks in the brig, his pleasure was to come in in his revenge, so he could move on and let go. Now he had been denied that chance and he could not quite settle the anger that rippled through him and he felt that anger re aim itself at the captain for taking away his revenge.
He watched as the captain of the sunken ship was bought forward, Seth knew the old mans fate before it happened. He knew there was no possible way a captain of another ship would be allowed to live on another, even if he was a coward. Seth felt a brief passing feeling of compassion for the old man, he was not like most lords Seth had known. He had seemed to battle between what society thought was right and what he felt was right, but his cowardice always won and he would never stand up to society. He had never held any coward in high favour, he saw it as a weakness, a man should face his fate with pride and dignity.
He eyed the dagger that the captain withdrew from his boot the way a man would gaze at his hearts desire, the dagger was a beauty that made his fingers twitch. He longed to run his finger over the sharp blade and see the blood fall from his finger along the clean blade, it would be beautiful. He did not flinch as Eleanor did when the captain of this ship slit the old mans throat, he had seen that fate the moment they boarded this ship. Seth felt a little relief as the captain wiped the blade of the dagger clean, blood on a blade was beautiful, but only whilst the blood was still warm to touch.
He heard Eleanor's muffled whimpers and wanted to roll his eyes, she held more contempt for the now dead captain than Seth had. Seth followed the captains eyes as the admired Eleanor's desirable figure, he did not need to look at her face to know the look she was giving the captain. She was gambling with her life and did not know it, he knew her games, she used her beauty to get what she wanted from a man. He was very sure he knew her thoughts, for they were not that far from his own, she hope dthe captain would claim her as his. Eleanor would be certain that any man would desire her to be only his and many did but Seth saw the look in the captains beautiful eyes. He was not easily fooled and his words spoken to her confirmed this, Seth wanted to smile, he way very sure Eleanor was shocked that a man had said as much to her, especially a pirate.
He glanced around the rest of the crew as the captain spoke to another member of the crew, Seth noticed the hungry look in the eyes of many of them men. He was not surprise to see that many were more interested in him than Eleanor, he was already certain of her fate, but wondered if his would be the same. He was not against the captain taking what he wanted from him, he would enjoy pushing that man, but he would never be a piece of meat to the crew. Though there may be one or two he would enjoy entertaining, till he killed them at least. That was the difference between Eleanor an him, she would adapt, and soon would be playing the pirates against each other using her body as manipulation. He would rather die than become someone's whore, unless of course he choose to be their whore.
The reassuring words of the captain reached his ears, no her flesh was not to be wasted, plenty of men who would enjoy such flesh. Seth felt no pity for Eleanor as the captain handed her over like a piece of meat, she was no innocent young girl, and as always she would find her feet aboard this ship. The captain had probably made a mistake in letting her live, she would soon cause trouble among his men, but that was not his concern.
Hi concern was his fate, which the captain would now decide, he held no false hope, he felt his pulse quicken a little, anticipation always excited him. He would be ready to face his fate and as the captain spoke he once again admired the richness of his voice. He would not be dragged off screaming as Eleanor had, he would face his fate and if the captain was to hand him over to the remaining crew then so be it. His hand would find the nearest weapon at the soonest point, whilst it was likely he would be dead within seconds of doing so he felt no fear. Just that sexual rush that the though of death gave him.
He met the captains eyes and raised his head, he was certain his fate was to be the same as Eleanor's, but as he looked into those beautiful eyes he didn't want it to be him that handed him over, like he was nothing. He felt his stomach turn as though he wanted to vomit all over the wooden deck, he wanted to goad the captain. He opened his mouth to tell him to let the rest of his men have their restitution also seeing s the women was not to their taste. But he bit his tongue, hard enough to draw blood, he would hear what this man had to say, and he would hate him as he had hated many before him. They were only eyes, beautiful eyes, but the man was cold just like the many before. the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as his tongue bled, and he swallowed his own blood down before speaking with a cold smile on his lips
"So be it, I just hope it is a fate deserved."
Last edited by MarkL15, 2/15/2005, 3:02 am
---
And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
Goo Goo Dolls - iris
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2/15/2005, 3:00 am
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wanderingsoul
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Re: The Captain's Favor
Captain Thorne had been watching the emotions flash in the boy’s eyes. He doubted that he had any idea they were showing there. In fact, he felt fairly certain of it. But Thorne was a very observant man, and he had seen quite a range of feelings in those eyes—eyes which he still did not quite know if they were blue or green.
But the gamut of emotions they had run through in a fairly short amount of time was intriguing. Barely concealed arousal, resentment, anger, compassion, longing, defiance, anticipation—all had touched his eyes. But what caught Thorne’s attention—and caught him slightly off guard—was a brief look of something akin to despair that clouded they boy’s eyes and even touched his face. It was gone in an instant, bitten back hard—so hard that he could actually see the boy biting his tongue.
Thorne felt a heat stirring in his body. The boy was holding himself under control—yet still passions ran beneath the surface. Devereaux was a devoted, obedient lover, but the only passion that burned within him was jealousy. He always pleased well enough, but left him feeling a little on edge, a little less than satisfied. As did most, men and women both. And he felt that sense of edginess prickle at his skin as he looked at the boy now. Those blue green eyes were fairly expressionless, cold—as was his smile. And Thorne felt a sudden urge to wipe that smile—which was as insolent as it was cold—from his face.
“Devereaux!” he called over his shoulder, his tone sharp. He wanted to punish this boy, punish him for reminding him of his dissatisfaction.
“Aye, Captain?” Devereaux recognized the look on his captain’s face and he had all he could do to keep from breaking into a grin.
“Strip him to the waist and tie him to the mast and wipe that smile from his face. I will not tolerate insolence from boys.” He looked at the boy again—and let his eyes travel slowly over ever inch of him, making certain the boy saw and understood the heat in his eyes.
“And when he is no longer smiling, bring him to my quarters.” He turned and strode off, the look on his face causing his crew to back away as one as he passed by them.
---
And by and by my Soul returned to me, And answered "I Myself amd Heav'n and Hell"
Omar Khayyam
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2/15/2005, 5:01 pm
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MarkL15
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Re: The Captain's Favor
Seth kept his gaze cold as he regarded the captain, he did not enjoy the way the man seemed to study him, he had often been looked at, those gazes of lust did not bother him. He actually took pleasure in those kind of looks. Though this man was trying to look past that, he was trying to see the emotions that Seth was sure had passed through his eyes.
He didn't like that at all. Only one other had ever tried to see deeper into him and to some degree he had got to see a little of Seth's soul. Andre had got to see that his soul was not as black and cold as Seth often appeared, it was his weakness and Seth hated anyone seeing his weak areas. He had worked long and hard to conceal the weakness of his soul, so much that he was not even sure himself what lay there. He did know however that he did not plan to take a look any time soon and he would damn any man who tried to look inside of him.
As he looked at the captain he noticed a heat build in those beautiful eyes, a heat Seth had grown used to seeing in men's eyes as the looked at him. He felt his smile grow ever so slightly, so he did have an effect on the captain. He knew that would not save him from his fate, though he felt a rush of arousal run through him as he thought of getting the captain to let go of his self control and take what he wanted and how he wanted it.
He had met many men who would do this without a second thought and they bored him, it was those that had control over themselves, those that would fight their desires. They were the interesting ones, they were the ones who Seth would love to tease to the point of letting go of their self control. Because when they did let go it was like a beautiful intense thunderstorm full of passion and intensity that set your skin on fire. He would enjoy making the captain lose all self control, if he got the chance.
He saw the heat in the captains eyes flash with anger, and he felt heat run through his blood, warming his skin that had grown cold from the water clinging to him. As the captain called Devereaux he noticed the look on his face, it was one of pure delight, he knew he was to be punished before the captain spoke the rest of his words.
He felt a shiver run through him as he noticed the long whip that was attached to Devereaux's belt. He knew what his punishment was to be, he thought of Andre and the many scars he had already inflicted on his back using a very similar whip. It had been Andre's favourite torture for him, he loved to tie him in the stables and hit him with the single whip till his back was completely covered in welts, open wounds and blood. Andre would then take him hard, whilst pressing his chest against his back, causing immense pleasure and pain to run through him.
The first time this had happened he had took little pleasure in the pain each lash had caused, and he had cried out from the stinging pain. It was not until Andre was slamming his **** inside of him that he appreciated the pain on his back and the intense feeling it caused when mixed with the pleasure he was feeling. It had been Andre's greatest lesson, teaching him how to take pleasure in most pain. Every time after that he had learned to find pleasure from each painful lash that hit him, and he had not cried out since his first lesson in the link between pain and pleasure.
Seth felt his blood heat even further as the memories hit him and as the captain's eyes travelled over his body it took all his will power to stop himself growing hard under that heated gaze. He felt a groan build in his throat as the captain ordered he be bought to his quarters after his punishment. He would certainty be able to take some pleasure from the lashes he was likely about to receive if he was going to have the opportunity to be taken by the captain afterwards.
His eyes followed the captain as he strode off and couldn't help but admire him as he strode off, his power seems to fall from him in waves. He then noticed Devereaux coming towards him, his grin gone completely and re placed with anger and hatred. Seth felt his smile grow, he knew it was likely the order to take him to the quarters afterwards that had wiped that pleased look from Devereaux's face.
As Devereaux got closer he felt two other pirates who were behind him grab an arm each, it was then that Devereaux sank his fist into Seth's gut causing his head to fall forward. He would have completely doubled up if the two pirates did not have a hold of him. He felt the hand belonging to Devereaux wrap in his hair and smelt his foul breath as he breathed against his ear, talking low enough for only him to hear.
"Now listen here boy, the cap'n may have taken a shine to thee, but there ain't nothin yer can do to make yerself safe, "
Seth felt repulsion as his hands slid in his hair, he hated his hair to be touched unless he invited it, Devereaux was one of the last men he would invite to touch any part of him. He also felt anger and hatred towards Devereaux for being a coward, what kind of pirate had someone held whilst they attacked. In his frustration Seth moved quickly, dropping his head as far as he could before whipping it back up. He heard the crack as his head connected with Devereaux's face, but felt nothing. He knew his head should be throbbing and his scalp stinging where no doubt Devereaux's clenched fist had torn some of his hair out. But he felt numb and satisfied as he looked up to see Devereaux holding his bloody nose and looking shocked. Seth laughed slightly and grinned as he spoke.
"You had better get on with your orders pirate, I believe the captain has some other delights planned for me and I'm sure you would hate to deny him that."
Seth watched as pure hatred filled those dull grey eyes, he watched amused as Devereaux pulled out an old dagger and advanced on him. Three other pirates stopped him, telling him that is not what the captain had ordered and he would have their lives if they let Devereaux kill the boy.
After a few moments Devereaux seemed to control himself and nodded at those holding him still, they quickly removed his shirt and walked him towards the mast. He did not struggle, he had no intentions of fighting this, just enjoying it as much as possible. He felt the presence approach from behind and turned his head just in time to stop his nose being smashed against the mast. Instead it was his head that knocked hard against the wooden post and for a few moments he felt his world blur around him.
By the time he re focused he felt the presence of Devereaux pressed against him, his mouth once again near his ear as the two other tied his hands. He felt Devereaux's hard **** pressing against his ass as he spoke once again into his ear.
"Yer goin to pay for that pretty boy"
As if to send home his threat Devereaux slid his hand over Seth's hips and rubbed his **** against his arse, breathing heavily against his ear. Seth's repulsion for the man grew even more, and he rubbed back against him smirking as he spoke"
" Then if your free to do what you like, then do so, take me right here, don't make idle threats"
He felt silence fall over the rest of the crew as he challenged Devereaux, he knew many were ready to stop Devereaux, most would never dare disobey their captain or let another disobey him. Still he knew it was dangerous grounds he walked, but he would not pretend to be intimidated by a snivelling coward. Devereaux did not speak and moved slowly away from him not before snarling angrily into his ear.
"yer gonna get what's comin to yer boy."
Seth let out a loud laugh as he spoke.
"I sure do hope so, your captain is mighty fine, I just hope you can use that thing attached to your waist, would hate to disappoint the captain with only a few marks."
He heard the sharp intake of breath come from Devereaux and smiled before dropping to his knees as one pirate pushed on his shoulder. He rested his head against the wooden mass and felt the familiar sexual anticipation build within him. He would enjoy this as much as he would hate it, it would please him as much as it hurt him, he had been taught well. Not for the first time he felt thankful towards Andre, because the last thing he would do is cry out in pain. He muttered under his breath as the cheering of the crew got louder.
"Let the fun begin".
---
And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
Goo Goo Dolls - iris
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2/15/2005, 9:12 pm
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wanderingsoul
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Re: The Captain's Favor
Devereaux removed the whip from his waist and cracked it once in the air. “It’ll be more ‘en a few marks yer’ll be ‘avin’ when I’m done wi’ ye,” he snarled. He raised the whip and flung his arm forward with all his might. The cat o’ nine tails slashed across the boy’s back, leaving the long ragged welts and torn skin that gave the cat its name—for they resembled nothing more than the savage slashings of a cat.
He had expected a loud cry of pain from the boy—as had the cheering crew. But the boy was silent except for a sharp intake of breath, and his lips were still curved in an insolent smirk. He raised his arm again gave the boy another taste of the cat—and got no more reaction than he did the first time. Devereaux was becoming enraged. The cap’n, HIS cap’n, wanted the pretty bit of **** before him. He had a taste for the pretty one’s there was no getting around that. But since he had joined this ship, the cap’n hadn’t taken another on board. And it gave him an extra measure of status, to be the only one the cap’n bent over the boards.
He snarled and raised his arm again. By the time he finished with this one, he wouldn’t be so pretty! And there wouldn’t be anything left that the cap’n would want. He let the cat slash high across the boy’s shoulders, twisting his wrist so that one of the lashes caught the side of the boy’s cheek. He could see the boy wince and jerk his head, but still no cries fell from his lips.
Ames grabbed Devereaux’s arm as he raised it again. “The cap’n won’ like that, Mr, Dev’reaux,” he warned.
Devereaux flung him away, knocking the older pirate to the deck. “The cap’n wanted the smile wiped from ‘is face. An’ tha’s wha’ ‘e’s gettin'!” He cracked the whip, missing Ames’ ear by less than an inch. Devereaux was nothing if not skilled with his weapon of choice. “An’ ye’ll not interfere ‘less you wan’ yer’s wiped from yer face too!”
He turned back to the boy and raised his arm, cracking the whip high across his shoulders in the other direction, twisting his wrist so that one of the lashes caught the side of the boy’s other cheek. “The cap’n likes ‘em pretty. Ye’ll not be pretty when I’ve done wi’ ye!”
***
Thorne opened the cabinet and removed the crystal decanter and poured the amber liquid into the glass. He stared at it for a moment, watching as the light from the sun that was just starting to dip down to the horizon added a hint of fire to the brandy. He raised it to his lips and downed it in one movement. It was a fine, old French brandy. Meant to be sipped, to be appreciated. But it could have been back alley gin for all he noticed. He poured another glass, and it immediately followed the first. He replaced the decanter in the cabinet and turned toward the open window.
He could hear the sound of the lashes as they ripped into the boy’s skin. He frowned and ran his hand over the front of his breeches. He was damned hard. Uncomfortably hard. And he needed release. He groaned as his hand stroked his **** through the fabric. And he thought of the boy. He didn’t know which he wanted more—to bury his hard **** in the boy’s tight ass, or to have those soft, almost pretty lips wrap around his ****. He was hungry enough for both, one after the other.
He listened, waiting to hear the boy cry out, wanting to hear that insolent voice crack with pain. But he heard nothing, nothing except the steady cracking of the whip and the appreciative cries from the crew. He frowned. Those cries were getting quieter, less appreciative, more uneasy.
“Ye’ll kill ‘im, Mr. Dev’reaux!” It was Ames’ voice, hushed, but urgent enough to carry to his ears.
“Hell and Damnation!” Thorne exclaimed, adjusting his breeches over his bulging ****, and stalked toward the door of his cabin, flinging it open.
---
And by and by my Soul returned to me, And answered "I Myself amd Heav'n and Hell"
Omar Khayyam
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3/2/2005, 4:55 am
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MarkL15
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Re: The Captain's Favor
Seth heard the crack of the whip and the threat made by Devereaux and wondered for the first time, if he would live to regret taunting the other pirate so much. The smirk was still on his lips and he had to admit he would have taunted the slimy pirate all over again if giving the chance to change things. He hated men like him, and even though Devereaux got to punish him for those taunts, in Seth's mind he had already won, no matter what happened, Devereaux's anger was out for all to see. Yet Seth would show little emotion other than indifference even when that whips cut into his back over and over.
It was his view that showing emotions revealed your weaknesses, anyone could use your emotions against you. Seth had learnt that before he learnt to walk, everyone did, as babes you soon learnt who would pay attention to your cries. Only most forgot this as they grew, where as Seth had decided to learn all he could, and it had paid off. It was people's emotions that revealed just enough to him so he could use it to his advantage, it had also taught him how to conceal his own emotions, to protect himself.
It was only lust that he ever truly let show, no other emotion not even anger was ever seen by another, unless he wanted them to, but then they never lived to use that against him. Even when he murdered them for revenge, he was mostly calm and quiet and rarely made a sound. Except to maybe whisper in their ear as they died, how much he loved knowing he would be the last thing they would ever see.
He waited for the first lash to come, the one that was always the worst and yet was still the best. It was the first that would almost bring a sound from his lips, a cry of pain mixed with a groan of deep pleasure. It would sting and burn his skin painfully and would make his **** hard in seconds, he felt his **** twitch almost in anticipation of what was to come and felt his smirk grow.
If only poor sweet Devereaux knew just how much pleasure his whip would cause, and for the first time in a long time he wanted to openly share his emotion. He wanted to moan out loud and show all of them just how pleasurable he found what they considered punishment. But he wouldn't, for if he did he may let other emotions slip that he kept locked away from anyone who cared to look at him.
He heard the whip before he felt it, it was a distinct sound he had grown used to hearing despite the amount of noise surrounding him. Still it did not stop him drawing a sharp breath as the whip slashed along his back, It was the shock, for he felt no pain at first, seconds passed before the burning stinging pain ripped through him and he moved slightly arching his back as the burning sensation seemed to heat his blood..
As he did this Seth realised he had not lost his love for pain as he felt his hard **** brush against the mast as he moved. He inwardly groaned but allowed nothing to pass his lips, this was better than those times with Andre, there had rarely been something to brush his **** against. Though it was still only a teasing brush, not enough to bring the pleasure he needed to feel and knowing he could not find release with his own hand made his **** harden further, but he restrained brushing against the mast once again.
The second lash came and this time he made no response, he allowed his body to move forward slightly causing his **** to be teased by the wood he was bound too. The mixture of pain and pleasure caused his skin to burn and he knew he was breathing faster as the arousal ran through him. He let his mind wander to the captain, blocking out the sound of the cheering crew, the captain with beautiful eyes that held a wanting heat behind them.
He felt the next slash but heard nothing, he was focusing his thoughts on the captain, he thought of him taking him hard, as hard as Andre, maybe harder. No one had ever ****ed him the way Andre had, with pure passion and intensity, yet he saw it hiding in those beautiful eyes. His **** was completely hard as he thought of the captain and the ache in his groin was growing, with each lash of the whip. He needed to be ****ed soon, needed to feel the captains **** pound inside of him, rubbing against his wounded back, causing painful pleasure and bringing him to his release. After that they could throw him overboard, he would die happy, but the need in him was like a fire running through his veins. Every lash made him rock forward, causing the teasing stroke from the mast.
Seth was momentarily dragged from his thoughts as he felt the burning sting of the lash cut across his cheek, he naturally turned his head slightly, hiding that side of his face. He closed his eyes to protect them from any further lashes aimed at his face. He vaguely heard the commotion between the two pirates, his head was already returning to his thoughts of the captain, taking him once this was over.
However he did hear Devereaux's remark about wiping the smile off his face and wanted to smile at this. He had no doubt the smile had left his lips and he felt unable to smile, like he was losing control over his face. It reminded him of being drunk, knowing you want to do a certain action but unable to get your body to co operate.
It did not occur to Seth that he was slowly blacking out until he felt the next lash strike his other cheek, this time he felt unable to turn his head to protect that side of his face. He could barely feel his arms or legs that had long since gone numb, yet he still felt the fire burning through him and on some level he replayed over his need to be ****ed. It was in a dazed state of mind that was closer to unconsciousness that he realised the problem, he had endured this regularly and had always enjoyed it. However that was not Andre holding the whip and Andre had always gotten as turned on by the torture, more so that Seth. Which meant his desire would win him over, the torture would have stopped by now, replaced by hard pleasurable sex that kept him conscious.
The ache in his groin still continued to grow regardless, he felt his hard **** against the mast as his body was hit again, causing it to move slightly, another teasing brush. Seth's mind fell back into a fantasy as he approached unconsciousness, it consisted of Andre and the captain ****ing him, the hardest he had ever been taken in his life.
He heard the whispered cry that seemed so far away, and in his mind he agreed that both the captain and Andre would kill him if the continued to take him this hard. He thought on how he may die before he gets the chance to release, that he would die with his **** as stiff as the mast it rubbed against. Inwardly he smiled at this thought, but it was a smile that failed to reach his lips, in the distant he heard a door crash open, then his mind fell into darkness.
---
And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
Goo Goo Dolls - iris
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3/3/2005, 10:41 pm
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