Will's Slavery or Slavery on the Seven Seas

Part 3

Will’s POV:

“I suggest you don’t do that.”

The words stop me dead. I look up from my position on the bed, my hands wrapped around my cock and the leather strap untied. I swallow. Hard.

“Caught ya red handed,” Jack grins as he closes the inner cabin door behind him. He sneers at me with a tray of food in one hand, while the other twists his plaited beard in a way that makes me nervous.

“Dammit Jack, you can’t tell me not to touch myself!”

That earns me an even bigger grin from Jack. He doesn’t answer for a moment, and just puts the tray of bread and cheese down on the table pushed up against the wall. He takes off his jacket, lays it over the back of a chair, puts his hat on the table, and rolls up hleevleeves.

“That’s Captain, to you pet.” The words aren’t angry, but controlled. There isn’t a hint of anger or anything really. It makes me nervous. I let go of my softening dick and back myself up against the wall.

“Did ya come?” he asks finally, picking up the leather strap.

“N-no,” I stammer.

“Good.” Jack takes the strap and places it carefully onto the table. “Yer hungry?”

“Yes, Ja-Captain.” Am I hungry? I could eat a horse! It was nothing but dried biscuits and water on the slave ship and nothing in the market. I realise I probably haven’t eaten for nearly 36 hours.

Jack picks up the plate and places it on the table before me. I reach out but my fingers are instantly slapped away. I look up questionably at him.

“Yer wash before you eat. And we’ll have to do something with that bum fluff on yer face. Makes ya look too old.”

I rub a hand over the light covering of beard and moustache. No way! It took me ages to grow this. But the food, the fresh bread and mature cheese sure are appealing. I sigh. “Fine, where do I wash?”

Jack smiles, an unnerving sight, and leads me out into the main cabin. There is a bowl of warm water and a shaving blade ready. It could be a used as a weapon. I could grab Jack, press that blade to his throat...and then what? Drag him out on deck and demand to be taken to Port Royal? Yeah, that’s what I want, but I won’t get it. I’m a young man, naked, branded a slave, the sole property of one Captain Jack Sparrow, and we’re on board the Black Pearl crewed by his loyal seadogs and in the middle of the ocean. Good idea, Will...Not!

I slump myself down in a chair and huff in annoyance. Jack just...smiles. I’m not sure I trust that smile. “Kneel on the floor, Will,” Jack tells me as if I’m 10 years old again.

“The floor?” I ask in wonder. Out of the blue, Jack acts. He shoves me off the chair and with a groan I land on the rough wooden planked floor. I don’t say anything but just glare at him. He takes no notice; instead he leans over the bowl and starts making a good soapy foam to spread over my face. He turns and faces me on the chair; legs open and indicates with his hands for me to kneel between them. For a moment, I consider arguing but he picks up the very sharp blade and I reconsider. I’ll argue when he puts the knife away, I decide. I crawl forward, sit back on my heels andt myt my face to him. He tilts my head back and starts to cover my face and chin with the foam. Jack’s hands are gentle, his skin far softer than mine and he evenly spreads the foam around. His hands aren’t invasive, just professional. Afterwards, he carefully takes up the knife, sharpens it on a whetstone, and lifts it to the side of my face.

For the longest moment neither of us breathe. He has a blade pressed against the side of my chin, just above the delicate skin of my throat and the artery underneath. I shiver - a delicious tense shiver that makes all the hairs stand up on the back of my neck...hell, maybe my whole body. Then Jack moves. With firm strokes, hardly putting any pressure on the blade, he starts to scrape at my face. The foam and hair is cut away with clean sweeps, once over without any cuts. The precision startles me. Jack’s skill with a sabre or cutlass is unquestionably talented, but his ability with the shaving blade is rather unnerving. One precise cut could kill me.

After a tense few minutes, Jack scrapes away the last of my beard, and then cleans off the blade. “Wash up, then you can have some breakfast.” I get up on unsteady legs and wash away the remains of the foam, along with my nervous sweat. My face feels strange naked. I grew it because I thought I always looked like I had a boy’s face. I know I’m not that old, but my face seemed overly boyish. Too innocent. Too trustworthy. ‘Too damn pure to do anything‘ kinda face. That’s a face that Jack has now. An innocent face. A strange burning starts in my groin and I look down to find myself becoming hard with the thought. This from the thought of my boyish face and Jack shaving me? No! Now I am hard!

I want to run away, Jack will see in an instant what his shaving technique has done to me. Yet, I can’t. I have to go in that room, where Jack is eating breakfast because I’m bloody starving. Not because he told me so. With cheeks burning in confused embarrassment, I cross into the bedroom. I don’t see Jack’s face as I walk in, I never lift my eyes from the floor, but then Jack speaks.

“Stop right there,” he orders, a laugh held back but showing in his tone.

I look up startled and notice that Jack’s picked up the leather tie. I shudder. He stands up and advances on me, holding it in his hand. He is not putting that on me, again!

“Will, obey me. You do want to eat, don’t you?” Blast his cruel tone. I tremble again at the look in his eye; there is something I really hate about that. It makes him look...evil, almost. Unbalanced, maybe. I am hungry, so I stop moving and let him tie the hateful leather around my cock and balls preventing any orgasm in the foreseeable future. After he’s done, he steps back and I literally dive on the table. With hands full of bread and cheese, I cram as much in mouth as possible and chew happily.

“Guess yer were hungry,” Jack adds with a laugh, not of cruelty this time but of humour.

With our breakfast finished, Jack leans back in his chair watching me nibble on the last cut of cheese. After a while his stare becomes unnerving again, and I try to look anywhere but at his face. I find myself blushing again and wishing I could prevent my reaction to his stare. To be honest I don’t know why he makes me blush or nervous when he only looks at me a certain way. I don’t like it. I don’t like him.

“Time for another lesson, luv,” Jack finally speaks, leaning across the table to take hold of my wrist. I try and pull away but his hand tightens around it. “Give me your other hand, petal,” he whispers. More blasted blushing, but I do as he says confused with what this lesson could possibly be. Before I know what’s happening, however, he’s bound my wrists with a strong piece of rope.

“No! Jack, let me go!” Fear floods my system and I start to stand, knocking the chair over and pulling at my bound wrists. I don’t like this. I’m trapped with a pirate. A man with a strange look in his eye I don’t trust. I man I thought was a friend, but currently owns me as a slave. I man I have no idea (whatsoever!) of what he will do next.

“Don’t worry, Will. Yer will like this lesson, promise.”

He pulls me forward towards the bed. I don’t like this one little bit. I want to run, but I have nowhere to run to! I want to scream, but apart from making me look weak, no one will come running. Jack is Captain on this vessel so no one will question him.

I follow, moving as slowly as Jack will allow, but eventually, I find myself on my back (again!) and laying naked before him. Jack lifts my arms and hooks the rope through a steel hoop set in the wall behind the bunk. I’d never noticed that before, it sure is handy for securing unwilling bed guests. Like me!

I stare up at Jack with frightened eyes, but to my supreme relief he doesn’t start to undress. I have little idea of what he’d do to me if he were undressed, but at least for the moment he remains clothed. He can’t do much like that. However, my relief is short lived when Jack climbs onto the bunk and straddles my naked hips. My bound cock jerks against my stomach as he brushes against it making me moan in surprise. Jack smiles. I hate his smiles.

“Today’s lesson - kissing. Not sure how good yer are at this, luv. So I’ll just have to test yer.” Jack gives a sly grin showing golden teeth and a pink tongue poking out between them.

“Kissed lots of girls,” I answer back. Jack’s grin only grows, but a gleam of what could be jealously enters his eyes. Such dark eyes. Like the darkest night...

My thoughts are cut off as Jack presses his full lips against mine. The freshly shaven skin is sensitive as his rough beard brushes against me. I gasp at the inexperienced sensation. Our lips only press together once and then Jack pulls back. He grins and brushes his rough cheek against my smooth one. I try to hold back the gasp of pleasure, but I can’t. He seems amused by it and shifts into a new position.

“No!” I cry as Jack leans over me, his chest pressing against my chest, and his hips resting against my hard cock. Pain flashes through me as my length pulsates with the new stimulation, but it’s prevented from reacting more. I hate my body at this second. My cock is stimulated and I can’t control it. My mouth is so sensitive to Jack’s touch that he makes me gasp and I hate it! If it’s the one thing I learn today it’s going to be how not to react to him at all!

I take a deep calming breath as Jack rests his weight against me, but as I breath in his mouth attaches to mine. A hot, sure tongue flicks between my open lips, but I immediately snap my teeth closed. He’s not deterred and starts to press his lips against mine. Sweet pressure, then away. I’ve experienced such shy kisses before. He can’t teach me anything here. More pressure, more kissing sounds, but then he adds something more. Tongue. His wet tongue starts to lap at my closed lips. Little presses. Licks. Sucks on my bottom lip. Suckling my top lip. Lapping between them, tasting my teeth. I’ve never experienced it before, and before I realise what I’m thinking, I find it kind of nice. Sweet. Gentle. Relaxing. And finally, the dreaded arousing.

I groan, shifting my body trying to get Jack to stop. The movement doeshelphelp. My chest rubs against his shirt, the rough material making sweet contact with my nipples. I’ve never thought male nipples could react like that. My hard cock, currently trapped between my stomach and his hips experiences delightful friction as I shift and move, so I instantly stop. I make my second mistake then, I gasp, and Jack’s tongue slips into my mouth.

His tongue actually feels nice. Not as though I’d choose to kiss him, but I can’t help noting that. He tastes sweet too. Jack does have reasonable teeth for being a man over thirty, most of them his own with just a few gold ones added. No bad breath either, which is nice. Nice. I hate that word! Along with ‘Jack’, ‘kissing’ and ‘shifting’. I think I hate his hands too. They move from the bed, where he’s been holding himself up, and they start to card through my hair. Short stokes. Long stokes. Wrapping his fingers in the long strands and then grabbing hold as his tongue laps at my mouth. Yep, hate his hands too.

Jack is kissing me. Hard. On the mouth. With lots of tongue. For a loime.ime. These are true statements, but what I don’t understand is the questions he arouses within me. Why do I like him lapping at my teeth? Why do I like him pressing his lips to mine? Why do I like it when he covers my mouth, shoves his tongue down my throat, and makes me shift and grind against him? Hmmm? Why?

I lose track of time. The questions and confusion fly from my brain as I can only concentrate on two things - kissing and grinding. I want to come. My cock aches in its leather trap and I can’t get relief. Jack’s tongue is torture in my mouth, and at this moment, I don’t give a damn that he’s a man and I’m his slave. I want to come. Damn, the questions. Damn, the hatred. Damn, the confusion. I just fucking want to come!!

“Please!” I yell as my mouth breaks from his. I’m panting with uncontrolled breath. My chest heaving as if I can’t get enough oxygen, or maybe it’s because I can’t get enough of Jack. He kisses me again, hands holding firm on my head as he shoves his tongue deep inside. He licks at my teeth. Explores my palette. Fights with my tongue. He’s driving me insane. I only then - on the edges of my consciousness - notice that his body is also rocking against me, grinding his hips to mine, my cock trapped between us. Then I feel it, and it shocks me back into the moment. Jack is hard and rubbing against me. A male organ is pressing into my stomach, gaining friction as we move, and kiss, and I can’t stop. I grind some more, kiss his bruised lips with my own swollen ones. I lose myself to passion and the joint desperation of trying to reach that pinnacle of need, and then crash over into blissful spilling of seed. Jack reaches that point, I don’t.

I scream in fury. Jack breaks away from my mouth, gasping as his warm seed spreads into his clothing and sticks to my skin. He moans and humps my body as he finally passes over into bliss, while I’m left in the agony of denial.

“PLEASE! CAPTAIN!”

That gets Jack attention, he grins at me and with a panting voice says, “Lesson four, begging sometimes works.”

With nibble fingers Jack releases my bound cock and I scream as the blood flows. Passion and need wash over me, I buck and arch, finally spilling my seed between us and falling back into blessed darkness as I pass out.

Jack’s POV:

It seems that the kissing and begging lessons have gone very well.

Yes, Will sure is turning out to be a good little slut. One good kissing session and we’re both coming. Blast! More stains on me breeches. It was worth it. The lad doesn’t know his own talents. If I ran a whorehouse I’d make a fortune with him. I don’t though, and he’s mine. Body, mouth and soul, got the receipt to prove it too.

Will has passed out from the pleasure, so I flop down beside him. He’s so pretty, sweaty, covered with the evidence of our spent passion. His lips bruised, his smooth cheeks flushed, and his chest showing the evidence of my mouth and lips. The boy doesn't understand his sexual magnesium, I’m drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. Got burned once too. This time however, I’m the one in control.

After recovering my bearings I roll off the bed, and change my damp clothing. I need a bath. I laugh. I can’t remember the last time I had one, but the thought of bedding Will dirty isn’t pleasant. Nope, I want to know what my dark skin looks like against his pale. How my hands contrast with the smooth planes of his thighs. How my hair looks spread out across his rounded buttocks. Yep, bath coming up.

I leave my precious one bound by his wrists to a hoop above the bed. I can’t have him trying to run off. There are so many lessons I have to teach him. I grab my jacket and close the bedroom door. I’ll let him rest for now, he’ll need his energy for later. The boat creaks around me, wood speaking as we rock upon the waves. The Pearl does speak. I thinks she likes my pretty Will. Likes to keep him locked up deep in her bowels. Nice thought.

~*~*~*~

I return later to my Will, half the day has gone and my cook is preparing dinner. It will soon be time for another lesson. This one will be how to eat from my hand. I lick my own hand, just to see what it feels like. My wet tongue slides against my palm. It tastes sweet, washed in fresh seawater. I moan and lick it again. Yes, I’ll like Will’s tongue lapping up his dinner from my hand. That rough, pink tongue flicking out. I push the thought aside as my body tightens. First, he needs to be cleaned.

I open my bedroom door and enter carrying a large bowl of hot water and a cloth. It’s for Will and this will be the last time I do this. When trained, I’ll expect him to wash us both. I put the bowl down onto the small table and turn to the bed. Beautiful. Will is still asleep, his smooth face resting on his arm with eyes lashes making long shadows across his cheeks. His hands remain bound, attached to the hoop, and it looks like he’s not awakened from this morning. He’ll have lots of energy for later then.

“Wake up, Will me littl’ pet,” I whisper into his small ear. I can smell his hair, the light brown strands tickling my face. He smells of fire and seawater. An unusual combination, but all Will.

“Hmmm,” Will moans and turns his face. He rubs against my cheek, eyes still closed, and he’s not fully awakened yet. The smoothness of his face makes me moan. Such soft flesh. He rubs again, his body turning slightly, arching upwards towards my own leaning over him. I choke back a groan, biting my lips to hold back a loud wanton groan as we touch. He’s so responsive, surprising me with sensuality that doesn’t show when he’s awake and defying me. Not that I don’t like a little temper in him, but there are times I would want him soft, willing, and begging for me to touch, lick, caress and finally fuck him. I take a deep breath, savouring his unique scent.

“Will,” I purr into this ear, “Willy boy.”

“Don’t call me that,” Will suddenly replies, his eyes flicking open as his body tenses. Just as he arched against me in sleep, he cringes away from me in awaking. The change in his attitude is confusing. There is longing when he’s not aware of himself. Denial when he is. Very interesting that. I can work with it. Aye, very interesting.

“Good evening, luv. Enjoy yer sleep?”

“Evening?” Will looks around, taking in the long shadows and flickering candle supplying the only light.

“Aye, ya near slept the day away.”

Will’s eyes widen in wonder, and then he remembers where he is. He blushes, his cheeks darkening and one long legs bends up as he tries to cover his naked groin. His penis is flaccid again, and I’m going to have to do something about that.

“Err, can I?” Will indicates to his bound hands, by looking up and I untie them. He’s not using me title, but he’s forgiven for now. When he’s freed, he sits up, hands covering his lap and stares up at me.

“Hands, luv. Not where I want them to be.” More of that heavenly blushing. Travels down his body too. I pretend not to notice the small twitch in his stomach. Maybe a signal of more than little interest of being naked before me. These boys with their ideas of proper sexual conduct will be the death of me. Will cannot stand being naked before me, but a couple of weeks without clothing should deal with that problem.

“Jack, please. Please can I have something to wear,” Will whispers, his hands not moving from his lap.

“Yer in no position to call me Jack, petal. With a little more respect and training maybe. And I said to move yer hands or I’ll have ‘em restrained for a week.”

Will gasps - the right reaction - his hands quickly dropping down to the bed, but his head tilts up in defiance.

“I hate you, Jack Sparrow,” he spits out, his eyes dancing with the sparkling passion of his conviction. Damn, he’s so pretty angry.

“Now, I’m hungry and you need cleaning up before we eat. There be evidence there of our kissing session earlier.”

More redness bursts on Will’s cheeks, but his eyes are glued to the deck and he doesn’t look up. Instead, he stands and moves to the water bowl. With sure movements, I watch as he washes away the last remains of his passion. The memory of that first kiss will be burned in my memory forever. Hot mouth. Clever tongue. Sweet lips. His begging for it.

As Will dries his now clean stomach, and I move to stand behind him and slide my hands around his waist. He gives a sharp intake of breath, his muscles tightening under my touch.

“Jack, please,” he cries, and a wet splash falls onto my hand. I don’t stop. I can never stop. He belongs here with me. With the Pearl. She’ll not let him go either. My hands wrap around his flaccid length and I start to pump it. Such a pretty cock he has too. Untouched. Smooth as silk, the surface rising up in the bumps and hollows of the veins, all perfectly straight and without knots. Soft skin. Sweet innocent skin. My skin. I stroke him, feeling his penis start to harden under my touch. The body in my arms tenses, and he catches his breath. Such sweet gasps rise from his mouth. I move one hand upwards to stroke his flat stomach. Thin and wiry he is. Body formed by bone and muscle. No handles for me to hang onto. No unsightly rolls of baby fat. Will has the body of a handsome man, the mind of a boy...an innocent boy. A gentleman. Well, I’d be no gentleman. Never was raised one either.

“Jack,” Will hisses again, as I continue to stroke and touch. This is something I find appealing. The way he acts and reacts. Bound like he’s got a pole up his ass, but he be a true gentleman. Trusting. Truthful. Respecting. Gracious. Scrupulous. Perfect. Any woman would be honoured to marry him. Any woman would wish to be wooed by him. Courted by him. Finally bedded by him. Aye, any woman would love this proud, honourable man. Well, I’m not any woman, but I want that too. I want his respect - for him to be on his knees before me, looking up at me with desire in those eyes. I want his trust - for him to be relaxed and ready when I push my way into him. Want him to be truthful - for him to be screaming, begging for me to take him. Want him to be perfect - for him to be perfection itself in being my lover, my slave, my other half. The respectable gentle man to my wicked pirate.

“Jack!” The tone changes, a touch of anger added in Will’s voice as to his surprise I once again bind his cock and balls. They will be mine to admire and bring to fulfilment later. His body is no longer his own, but mine...and the Pearl’.

I kiss the firm throat, feeling him swallow nervously under my lips. He shouldn’t be afraid. I don’t wanna break him. I want to mould him.

“This piece of flesh, Will,” I squeeze his cock, “is mine, just like every part of you.” I kiss the arched ear, and listen to him hiss with a little anger...and a little passion. “Now, it’s time for dinner.”

I take hold of his pale arm, savouring the feel of firm, powerful flesh beneath my hand and guide him into the main cabin. The decor is dull; the colours of blacks, reds and golds. A long time ago, when I was first brought aboard, the colours were brighter, startling, now they have faded with dirt and time. I shudder at the thought, a memory surfacing at the back of my mind.

A memory of my first day. My Captain, the man who owned me, didn’t wash and guide me into this room as I do Will. He didn’t talk to me; he dragged me in by the collar, threw me over the table and raped me for the very first time. My hand tightens around Will’s arm, making him moan.

“Ow,” a soft cry and he tugs against my hold. I tighten my hand.

I remember the bruises my Captain left. The scars he carved into my body after he’d finished with me. How I lay sobbing, a fourteen year old boy on the floor as he ate his fill. I didn’t eat that first night. I begged, cried, and even when he ordered me to lick his dirty boots, I did. Still, I went hungry.

“Jack,” another cry.

I was bound to the table leg that night. My screams answered by a backhand and more pain.

“Please!”

I let go. Will scurries away from me, backing himself into the far wall and holding his bleeding arm. My ragged nails have cut deep, black and blue bruising beginning to show. I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t...the memories...

TBC