Bill

Boys in the King's Navy, 1807

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

Chapter One

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 three-month cruise had just finished enjoying the luxury of two 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 din. "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 3; 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 3; often instigated and watched by sailors for their voyeuristic amusement.

Most of the men aboard the Apollo were good-natured 3; even flirtatious 3; 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 3; at least most of the time. When he'd come aboard three years before, he was already well-accustomed to providing sexual service to the older boys and adult warders at the workhouse 3; 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 three days before in Portsmouth 3; 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 3; 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 3;" 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 3; 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 3;" 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 3; 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 3; ah, and then to get into those wonderfully tight britches 3; 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 3; 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 3; 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 3;"

"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 3;"

"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 3; 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 3; 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 3; I mean, I've never 3; 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 three days earlier. Benjamin had always been attracted to men in the ship's detachment of Royal Marines.

Chauncey and Davey 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 3; 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 3; 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 3; the suction of his mouth 3; 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 3; 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 3; a technique that pleased Davey as well.

When Chauncey 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 3; 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.

Chapter Two

With the grove of ancient trees in view, the two boys began to shed their clothing as they ran. In a flash they were naked, their penises already stiff in anticipation of the sex-play that was about to ensue. Rupert looked like a young colt in motion – handsome but a bit awkward at the beginning of his adolescent growth spurt. Chauncey loved the way his cousin's pre-pubescent erection swayed from side to side as he ran, while his dangling half-size balls bounced randomly.

In another instant they were in their secret place – the small clearing at the center of the woods – falling to the soft ground in a warm embrace, lips joining in a kiss, erections sliding together in urgent lust. Their youthful bodies quickly moved into the 69 position, mouths hungrily capturing stiff cocks, hands fondling smooth bums. Although Rupert was 2 years younger than Chauncey, they'd discovered cock-sucking at the same time, while playing together in this very grove of trees. In their innocence and naiveté, they had imagined at first that they were the inventors of fallatio 3; the only ones who knew this incredible secret.

As Chauncey lovingly suckled the 12-year-old's stiff prong, and was pleasured in return by his cousin's mouth, he could feel his orgasm begin to rise up. The rapturous pleasure of sexual ecstasy grew within his body, driving all other thoughts from his brain. His entire being was consumed by white-hot lust. And then 3;

"Midshipman Grosvenor!" The harsh voice was accompanied by a sharp nudge to the boy's ribs by the toe of a boot. The scent of the meadow was replaced by the smells of sea air, rope, and tar. The ship's bell rang twice, signaling the end of the first hour of the morning watch – 5 a.m. As Chauncey's mind made the transition from dream to reality, his eyes opened in the pre-dawn darkness to behold the stern face of a middle-aged man standing above him.

"Stand up, Mr. Grosvenor!" It was Richard Westmoreland, the 41-year-old captain of the HMS Apollo.

"Yes, sir! Sorry, sir! I must have 3;"

"You must have gone to sleep on your watch, Midshipman. That is a serious offense, young man, and subject to severe punishment. At the end of the watch, you will come to my cabin. Carry on!"

Chauncey saluted and watched as the captain strode to toward his cabin at the stern of the ship. The 14-year-old boy felt an aching dread in his gut, and he mentally kicked himself for his stupidity. For all he knew, this blunder may have permanently sullied his reputation and his career. He tried to imagine what punishment awaited him. Perhaps even a court martial, resulting in expulsion from the Navy. And he'd been aboard ship barely more than a week!

At 8 a.m., the morning watch ended and the forenoon watch began. The summer sun warmed the air, and bare-chested sailors who had been off-duty for the past 4 hours traded places with men who could now get some sleep. For Chauncey, however, sleep would have to wait. He made his way slowly to the captain's cabin and knocked softly on the door.

"Come in," said the gruff voice from within.

Chauncey removed his hat, stepped into the well-furnished cabin, and stood at attention. Captain Westmoreland sat at his desk, writing. When he turned his chair to face the young teenager, the man's face showed a mixture of anger and disappointment

"You are aware, are you not, of the severity of falling asleep on-watch? That it is equivalent under Naval Law to desertion?"

"Yes, sir," said the boy, almost in a whisper, as shame gnawed at his guts.

"You have already seen how sailors and ship's boys are punished aboard this ship 3; flogged before an assemblage of their peers. Young officers, in contrast, are to be disciplined in the privacy of the captain's cabin, and the captain is charged with devising a suitable punishment." His eyes glanced over to two hooks on the wall, from which hung a cat-of-nine-tails and the tamer 'boy's cat'.

"Yes, sir." At this point, Chauncey felt that he would gladly accept a severe flogging to resolve his guilt.

"You did not attend a proper school, did you?"

"No, sir. I was tutored in my family's homes, sir."

"Schools have a very fine sense of appropriate punishment for boys your age. The physical punishments to which a boy is subject are typically rather mild, so there need to be additional aspects of the punishment 3; something that will be sufficiently dreaded that the boy will behave correctly in the future. That factor, Mr. Grosvenor, is humiliation. It is why a schoolboy is made to lower his britches, in view of a classroom of sniggering peers, before he is caned on his bare bum. So, Mr. Grosvenor 3; did your tutor use punishment to help you learn?"

"Yes, sir. A spanking with his hand."

"I see 3; With your britches down, across his knee?"

"Yes, sir."

"There you have it! The same philosophy 3; pain on your bum supplemented by the element of humiliation. Now, how might I punish you, such that you never again would fall asleep while on watch?"

Chauncey hesitated a moment, not sure whether the question was intended rhetorically. When it became apparent that a reply was expected, he answered: "I don't know, sir."

"You don't, eh? Well, I have some thoughts. It has come to my attention, Mr. Grosvenor, that you are fraternizing with the sailors in their quarters at night, watching the ship's boys do their 3; what do they call it? The Hindoo dance? And then there are the carnal activities in which you indulge with young ship's boys in the rope locker."

"Sir! I fear you are misinformed! I would never 3;"

"Silence!" barked the captain. "Don't lie to me, boy. Doing so requires me to make your punishment more severe. And never presume that I am ignorant of what transpires aboard my own ship."

Westmoreland paused, watching the boy tremble visibly for a few delicious moments, before continuing in a calmer voice. "I have decided to be lenient on you, on account of this being your first offense. If you accept the punishments that I set forth, without resistance or complaint, I shall not record your misdeed in the ship's log."

Chauncey's eyes brightened with surprise and joy. He was getting a second chance, and his record would remain unblemished.

"I shall do anything, sir!"

"Yes; you shall," replied the captain, with an edge to his voice. "Begin by removing all of your clothing, except your under-britches." The captain stood up, took the smaller of the two whips down from its hook.

Chauncey hurried to comply. If strokes from the boy's-cat on his bottom were all he'd face, he could weather it with no trouble. In a minute, he was standing at attention in just his cotton under-britches – expertly-tailored like all of his clothing – awaiting the whipping that would surely follow. He presumed that he would next be required to bare his buttocks. Or perhaps it would be like the ritual that his tutor always followed, in which the man slowly lowered the boy's underpants before the spanking.

"Unfasten the top two buttons of your under-britches," said the captain, sitting down again in his chair, and setting the whip next to him on his desk.

With the top buttons loosened, the thin material of the mid-thigh-length undershorts slid down, exposing the boy's lower belly and the crack of his butt.

"Because you seem to have a fondness for congregating with the ship's boys, you shall be required for your punishment to act the part of one. Begin by moving your body in the manner of the ship's boys when they do their Hindoo dance."

"Sir?" A look of shock spread across Chauncey's face, followed quickly by a deep flush of embarrassment.

The captain smiled wryly. "I am quite aware that you have several times watched the boys dancing, so you must be familiar with it by now. You shall dance as if you were in the crew's quarters, stoking the lust of lecherous sailors."

The man began rhythmically tapping the handle of the whip on his desk, and hummed a tune sounding rather similar to the music played below-decks when the boys danced.

Chauncey knew he must obey the command. He raised his arms above his head, hands moving sensuously, as his hips began to sway. As he imitated the erotic dance that he had voyeuristically observed nearly every night, the handsome young midshipman felt a tingle of excitement. Even though it was humiliating to act like a lower-class bum-boy, Chauncey couldn't help feeling sexually aroused.

Both the embarrassment and the sexual stimulation ramped even higher as the under-britches slipped down farther. Like the powder monkeys who did the dance for the sailors' pleasure, he imagined himself being a harem-boy in an East Indian palace. And the more he danced, the farther down his partly-unbuttoned underwear slipped. As the base of his penis was exposed, it looked bald. But in fact it was adorned with a few blond pubic hairs, visible only when seen close-up and in good light.

With a few more shakes of the hips, the boy's undergarment slipped down his legs to the floor. Chauncey stepped out of the shorts and was now completely naked, arms held above his head, his hips still moving sensuously.

Captain Westmoreland tried not to let his face betray the lust that he felt, watching as the boy danced like the most shameless whore at a cheap bordello. His eyes wandered over Chauncey's barely-adolescent nude body, judging it to be the perfect image of upper-class boy-beauty. The curly golden-blond hair on his head framed a face that was almost androgynously pretty. His pale-skinned body was slightly soft, in contrast to the hard angular leanness of the suntanned ship's boys. His chest and armpits were devoid of hair; his arms and legs adorned with blond peach-fuzz. Chauncey's buttocks were wonderfully rounded and prominently displayed 3; inviting a fondling. And then there were the boy's swaying genitals, which truly captivated the man. The smooth flaccid penis pointed downward, and was of a pleasing length and girth for a young teenager. It had a short foreskin that revealed a glimpse of the cock-head's tip. The robin's-egg-sized balls in the soft slightly-dangling scrotum perfectly complemented the beauty of the penis.

"Now bring your hands down to caress you body," said the captain; "and stroke your prick until it is stiff."

With his face blushing red, Chauncey brought his hands to his chest, touching his nipples and moving down toward his crotch, as he had seen the ship's boys do in their dances. Then he began fondling his dick, his fingers manipulating the foreskin as his other hand played with his balls. As the cock rose up in erection, Chauncey pulled back the foreskin to fully display the finely-shaped head that was becoming reddened as the penis reached its full stiffness.

Despite his arousal, and also because of it, Chauncey tried to block out the thought that he was being observed by Captain Westmoreland. Closing his eyes, he pretended that he really WAS a ship's boy, in the crew's quarters, where blatant sexuality was an accepted part of a boy's life.

Chauncey didn't notice the captain standing and moving next to him. Taking aim at the boy's beautifully-rounded butt, the captain brought his right hand down in a stingingly hard spank. Chauncey gasped and jumped with surprise, instinctively turning away to avoid another blow and bringing his hands back to shield his butt.

"You resist my discipline?"

"No, sir! Sorry, sir!"

"If you are going to squirm as I spank you, I have no choice but to hold you in place. Clasp your hands behind your head." As the boy obeyed and stood submissively, the captain wrapped his left hand around the shaft of the adolescent boner, with his thumb and forefinger circling just beneath the ridge of the cock-head. His right hand caressed the boy's smooth shapely buttocks, preparing for the next spank.

"Keep dancing, boy 3; move your hips." But every time Chauncey moved his hips, his boner slid inside the captain's hand, as if being masturbated. And whenever Westmoreland's right hand came down hard on the boy's rear, his body jerked forward to the same effect.

Chauncey's embarrassment was total 3; forced to dance naked while being spanked hard and having his cock intensely stimulated. Around the time of the tenth spank, he feared that he would shame himself further by shooting his semen onto the rug beneath his feet. But before that could happen, the captain released his hold on the boy's erection and stood back. "Continue your dance," said the man; "and wank your prick as you do it."

As the boy brought his hand to his stiff cock, stroking it smoothly as he danced, his lust battling his shame.

Westmoreland glanced at the clock on his desk. It was almost time. He continued to watch the beautiful boy perform his obscene dance, thinking excitedly about what would happen next. Just after the ship's bell rang once, signaling 8:30 a.m., there was a soft knock on the door.

Chauncey looked almost panicked. It was bad enough for the captain to be watching him masturbating while he danced, but having another person see him like this would add significantly to his humiliation.

"Enter!" called out the captain, then said to Chauncey, "Keep dancing and stroking." The door opened, and in strode Benjamin Kitts, the most senior of the ship's powder monkeys at age 14, and a 3-year veteran aboard the Apollo. He was bare-chested and barefoot, carrying a tray with the captain's breakfast. He set down the tray, saluted Captain Westmoreland, and then turned to the midshipman. With a straight face, but a twinkle in his eye, he saluted the boy as well. Benjamin didn't seem at all surprised to find Chauncey dancing naked in the cabin, with his hand stroking his stiff cock!

"Stay for a while, Kitts," said the man, pretending that Benjamin's role in the production hadn't been pre-arranged. "I have a duty for you to perform." Westmoreland handed Benjamin the five-tailed whip from the desk. "You will be applying a dozen proper lashes upon Mr. Grosvenor's bum." He paused for just a moment and then turned to Chauncey. "But first, Mr. Grosvenor, you shall abase yourself by kneeling before Kitts, lowering his trousers, and taking his cock into your mouth.

The shock registering in the upper-class boy's brain wasn't from the concept of sucking the cock of a working-class lad. He'd already fellated two boys who ranked far below his station, and he thoroughly enjoyed it. Rather, it was the surprise that the captain would order such a thing, furthered by the humiliation of having the man watching. But he obeyed the order at once, and knelt at Benjamin's feet. His fingers trembled slightly as they untied the rope that secured Benjamin's trousers, letting the boy's only garment fall to the floor. Benjamin's boyish genitals, only a few months into pubescence, dangled in front of the midshipman's face.

"Suck it, Mr. Grosvenor!" said the captain, who stood behind the kneeling boy. The man smiled and winked slyly at Benjamin, unseen by Chauncey.

Chauncey took the soft penis in his fingers and inclined it toward his mouth. His lips gently tugged at the nozzle of foreskin as his tongue teased it. Then Chauncey slid the skin back to reveal the handsome cock-head. His lips glided onto it, sucking the crown into his mouth, running his tongue around its flared ridge, and feeling the penis stiffening. As the organ pulsed to erection in his mouth, Chauncey moved his lips farther down along the shaft.

A thrill ran through the young midshipman as he performed sexual service the ship's boy. Chauncey had only sucked three other boys in his life 3; two having rather small and immature cocks, while the stable boy's was essentially adult-sized. But this one, sliding smoothly between his lips, was perfect in size and sensuality 3; small enough to suck easily, yet mature enough to be totally erotic.

"Take it all," instructed the captain, as he rubbed his own erection through the material of his britches.

As Chauncey endeavored to take the adolescent erection, Benjamin thrust his hips forward. Chauncey managed to take the entire length without gagging, pressing his lips against the short dark hairs that had recently sprouted at boy-cock's base. Chauncey was proud of his accomplishment, and even after he slid his mouth back up the shaft, he continued taking the adolescent boner as deeply as it would go, again and again. As his hands cupped Benjamin's slender butt-cheeks, and his mouth aggressively worked along the stiff shaft, Chauncey inhaled the rich musk of the boy's unwashed body. He was consumed with raw lust as he orally worshiped the beautifully-slender young erection.

Working his mouth on the boy's cock, Chauncey almost forgot about the captain. But, of course, the man was still paying very close attention. Westmoreland was quite pleased with the production of his little set-piece drama so far. As he watched the son of a wealthy aristocrat cock-sucking a ragamuffin orphan-boy, he wished that the scene could be captured for eternity by an artist. He would gladly trade is entire collection of pornographic etchings – all of which featured buxom women engaged in heterosexual or lesbian sex – for a few that portrayed the boy-on-boy scene being played out for him now.

For his part, Benjamin was definitely enjoying the scene. He'd been anticipating it ever since the captain had instructed him almost an hour ago. It wasn't as if he had never been sucked by an officer 3; in fact, the captain himself gave Benjamin an occasional suck to add variety to their love-making. Rather, it was the thrill of being dominant to an over-privileged upper-class boy. Benjamin entwined his fingers in the midshipman's blond curls and thrust his hips to face-fuck the boy, grinning at the captain as did.

"Alright; enough of that," said the captain eventually. "It is time for your flogging, Mr. Grosvenor. Stay kneeling where you are. Place your forearms on the deck, press your face into them, and raise up your bum."

When the midshipman was in position, the captain nodded to Benjamin. The ship's boy pulled his arm back and brought the whip down with all his strength 3; the five strands whistling through the air and landing with a stinging slap. Chauncey yelped in pain and looked back over his shoulder with a look of surprised agony.

"Keep your face down, Mr. Grosvenor. No more looking back. Carry on, Kitts." But the captain signaled silently with his hand that the intensity of the whip-strokes should be reduced.

As Benjamin brought his arm back for another stroke, Captain Westmoreland came around behind him, keeping clear of the whip's path. The captain placed his hands lightly on the boy's bare shoulders, feeling the wiry muscles flexing as he brought the whip down again. Chauncey's body flinched on the impact, but this time he kept his face pressed to his forearms and didn't utter a sound.

The captain began to caress Benjamin's naked body while the boy continued applying whip-strokes, spaced about 10 seconds apart. Westmoreland's hand slid down Benjamin's belly to take hold of the boy's still-rigid cock, squeezing it lovingly. His other hand fondled the boy's slender butt, a finger pressing into the cleft to tickle the sexy ass-hole of the captain's favorite shipboard sex partner. The man's mouth came down to kiss the back of Benjamin's neck as the "WHOOSH-SLAP" sound signaled another five red stripes being laid across Chauncey's shapely buttocks.

Captain Westmoreland had backed away and was looking perfectly composed when the whip made contact for the twelfth and final time. The man wordlessly admired the results of the flogging, noting that there were no breaks in the red-glowing skin.

"Shall I rise now, sir?" asked Chauncey after nearly a minute of silence.

"No, lad. There is more to your punishment still. Tell me, Mr. Grosvenor 3; have you ever been buggered before?"

Chauncey's mouth hung open, more in shocked surprise than in his attempt to answer. "N-no, sir," he said at last.

"But you've been buggering the youngest of the ship's boys in the rope locker, have you not?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then it's appropriate for you to submit to a bit of sodomy as your punishment. Kitts 3; you will mount him and inflict a good fucking." The man opened a drawer and pulled out a small corked vial. "Use this oil on your cock first."

Benjamin slathered his boner with the oil and hastened to kneel behind Chauncey's up-raised ass. Rather than open the virgin hole gradually with his fingers, Benjamin charged right into fucking. Positioning his cock-head at the entrance, he pushed forward firmly. His slender slippery erection fully penetrated the tightly-clenched circle of anal muscles on the first thrust.

Chauncey had been determined to accept his punishment without complaint, but a gasp of pain still escaped through his clenched teeth. His bottom, already throbbing from the flogging, now burned with pain radiating from his ass-hole. Benjamin strove to grind his stiff cock in even deeper, as his hands held firmly to Chauncey's hips. He slowly withdrew his cock most of the way and immediately thrust back in fast and hard, beginning a rhythmic pace of energetic full-length fuck strokes.

The captain stood unseen behind the two humping teenagers. His eyes and ears took in every detail of the sex-show that he had created, and he freed his own cock to stroke himself at the same brisk cadence in which Benjamin was thrusting. It was all Westmoreland could do to keep from groaning out loud. Even as he stroked himself, he bent down and ran his hand over Benjamin's ass-cheeks, feeling the gluteal muscles flexing 3; then down to fondle the boy's balls, then playfully tickling Benjamin's ass-hole.

The longer the fucking went on, the more Chauncey became accustomed to the assault. It still burned, but not as hot. And while the sensation was not exactly pleasurable, he was beginning to see how boys could enjoy it. The stable boy, after all, had practically begged for Chauncey to fuck him when they had first snuck off together for sex-play. In any case, it was something he could tolerate for now 3; and perhaps even enjoy in the future.

The captain gave his erection one last squeeze before tucking it back in his britches. "Finish this off, Kitts." The man was now more than ready to be a participant rather than merely an spectator.

"Aye, sir!" said the boy breathlessly. Benjamin began thrusting harder and faster into the wondrously-tight hole. The sound of rhythmically-slapping flesh mixed with the grunts and moans of fucking. In less than a minute, he was climaxing 3; squirting his boy-cum in a few deliciously pleasurable spurts. He collapsed onto Chauncey's back, breathing heavily, as his cock continued to throb inside the midshipman's rectum.

"Thank you, Kitts; that will be all. You shall keep this duty to yourself, and never discuss it with anyone outside this room. If I find that you have, 100 lashes will be the least of your punishment. Understood?"

"Aye, sir," said the boy as he put on his trousers and tied the rope-belt around his waist. "You know I can keep my confidences, sir." He winked at the captain as he saluted, and then humorously saluted the midshipman who was still face-down and ass-up. "Shall I serve your afternoon meal at the usual time, Captain?" He said it in a normal voice, but with a flirtatious look in his eyes.

"Yes, Kitts; that will be fine. I may spoil my appetite this morning," he said with a leer toward Chauncey's raised buttocks; "but perhaps I'll be hungry again by then."

When Benjamin had left the cabin, the captain told Chauncey to get up from the floor. As he stood, the boy reached behind himself to feel his bruised butt cheeks and his violated anus.

"There is but one more punishment that you must endure, and then your penance will have been paid."

"Yes, sir?"

"You will undress me and prepare my cock to bugger you."

Chauncey was now past the point of being surprised by the sexual debauchery that comprised his punishment. The boy's penis, which had gone soft during the lashing and ass-fucking, began to rise up again in erection as he contemplated having sex with an adult for the first time.

"Start with my jacket 3; then my boots," said the captain.

When nearly finished, Chauncey was ordered to get on his knees to unbutton and pull down the man's under-britches.

"Make my prick all the way stiff, boy," said the captain, reaching down to his hairy crotch to briefly grope his balls and half-hard penis.

Chauncey took the man's cock in his hand and began stroking. Without being told, the boy leaned in close and took the head of the stiffening penis into his mouth. Though of average length, the man's cock was of substantial girth, and Chauncey stretched his lips wide to take it in. As his mouth slid along the top third of the erection, Chauncey felt the captain's hand pressing at the back of his head, wordlessly telling him to take it deep. Unlike his experience sucking Benjamin's smaller penis, Chauncey's gag reflex rebelled against the intrusion by the man's fat cock. That didn't bother Captain Westmoreland, because the sucking was just a preliminary for what was coming next.

"Lie on the bunk, Mr. Grosvenor. On your back, with your legs drawn back and apart."

The boy hastened to do as ordered, pulling his knees almost to his armpits, exposing his ass submissively. The captain knelt in position on the bed, looking down at Chauncey's exquisite body, ready to be taken. He spit on his hand and gave his cock a few strokes, then rubbed the cock-head a few times across the boy's reddened and puffy ass-hole, still slippery from the previous fuck.

"Wank yourself, boy, while I bugger you. Go on; do it."

As Chauncey grasped his rigid penis and began to stroke, Westmoreland pushed the broad head of his cock against the freshly-fucked hole. The boy tensed, gritting his teeth at the intrusion, and holding his breath as the knob pressed into his body. When the cock-head had penetrated the circle of muscle, the captain paused and watched as Chauncey relaxed his body a bit and began masturbating again. A few more pushes, with a pause between each, penetrated deeper. Then he leaned forward, his arms pushing back the midshipman's legs even further, and began to thrust his hips in a fuck-rhythm. Long, slow strokes pushed to the hilt inside the boy, not significantly deeper than Benjamin's thrusts but filling Chauncey's rectum completely with the cock's manly thickness.

To Chauncey's surprise, his body adapted to being fucked by the man even more easily and quickly than when the ship's boy had taken him. The steady rhythm of fuck strokes stimulating his anal nerves 3; the pressure of the fat erection against his prostate 3; and the pleasure of masturbating himself 3; all combined to bring Chauncey a level of sexual pleasure to which he was totally unaccustomed. And the longer the fucking went on, the more intensely satisfying it became. As the man's thrusts came harder and faster, the boy jacked himself more urgently, feeling his orgasm rising up.

"That's it, lad," said the captain. "You fancy a good buggering, don't you?" His breathing was ragged as he pounded away at the boy's ass, striving for his own climax.

"Oh; yes! It's so good! Bugger me, sir! Bugger me hard!"

With uninhibited grunts and gasps, the two rutting bodies became one as they strove toward a common goal. Chauncey came first, spurting little globs of boy-spunk onto his belly and coating his stroking hand. The orgasm-induced spasms in the boy's anus were all it took to send the captain over the edge as well, pumping his much-bigger load of cum into Chauncey's guts.

As the ecstasy of orgasm waned, the captain rose up and casually began to dress himself. There would be no snuggling with the boy; no exchanges of kisses or whispered endearments. The captain reserved such things for his love-making sessions with Benjamin Kitts. But as he looked back at the beautiful boy who now reclined blissfully on the bunk, smiling dreamily, Captain Westmoreland considered the possibilities. Chauncey was far and away the prettiest boy on the ship, with refined manners and an apparent fondness for sucking a man's cock and being buggered.

No, he decided immediately; he wouldn't take the midshipman to be his lover. It was one thing to have a ship's boy as his catamite, but it would be quite awkward to do the same with a young officer. And then there was the matter of risking the wrath of Chauncey's powerful family back in England.

In all his years at sea, he'd always been perfectly fine using a succession of powder monkeys as his bum-boys. No use courting trouble now by taking an upper-class lad to his bed on a regular basis.

"You accepted your punishment well, Midshipman Grosvenor. I have no hesitation in determining that your misdeed shall be unrecorded and forgotten."

"Thank you, sir!"

"One more thing, lad 3; in the future you shall desist from fraternizing with the sailors and ship's boys. Stay out of the crew's quarters unless you have ship's business to attend to. And while I have no objection to my officers taking a ship's boy for their pleasure, the rope locker is not an appropriate venue for someone of your standing. Talk to one of the senior midshipmen about how to accomplish that goal with more discretion. Mr. Renwick or Mr. Chatfield should be quite knowledgeable in that regard. That will be all, Mr. Grosvenor."

Chapter Three

Benjamin Kitts glanced back at the HMS Apollo, lying at anchor in the harbor. It had been his only home during the 3 years that the boy had served aboard the Royal Navy frigate.

"She's a fine ship; ain't she, Kitts?" said Angus MacDade, the Royal Marine corporal sitting beside Benjamin.

"That she is, Angus," said the boy, looking up into the smiling face of the man to whom he had grown so close in the five weeks since they had shipped out from Portsmouth. Benjamin tried to return the smile, but his nervousness showed clearly in his expression.

"Are you still game for our little adventure, Kittsy? We can do something else if you'd rather. How about we take us a hike to the top of the Rock? Quite a view from up there, so they say."

"No; I want to do it. Just got me some jitters."

"Well who wouldn't be nervous before his first time? You'll do fine, matey."

As the passengers climbed off the barge onto the wharf, they found themselves in the midst of a busy open-air market selling various foods, clothing, and knick-knacks. Making their way through the market, Benjamin and Angus bought and devoured a loaf of Gibraltar's distinctive calentita bread, skewers of seasoned grilled lamb, and mugs of cheap red wine to wash it down. But eating wasn't their primary aim. Working their way through the maze of Gibraltar Town's narrow streets and alleys, they came to the neighborhood where brothels were permitted to operate freely. Angus chose an establishment at random, and they went inside.

"Welcome, gents! Come on in!" said the proprietress, a buxom middle-aged woman with a London accent. "You've come to the right place." She looked at the handsome Marine with a lascivious leer 3; and then, with barely-disguised amusement, at the young boy. "Take a seat," she said, gesturing to a small table with four chairs. I can fix you up with a drink before I fix you up with two of my girls. Wine is only thruppence, and a measure of fine Jamaica rum for sixpence."

"Thanks, but we're just here for the girls," said Angus. "It's my friend's first time. Let's see what you've got for us to choose from."

Benjamin blushed and said nothing. He'd had plenty of sexual experience with men and boys – first at the workhouse where he'd grown up, then considerably more in the 3 years since being sold to the Navy at the age of 11. But he'd never had a woman or girl, and with the onset of puberty he had become increasingly curious to discover the pleasures that the sailors were always talking about.

"First time, eh?" said the woman. "Ain't that precious! Let me bring out all my available girls, so's you can take your pick." She went to the inside door and bellowed out "Juanita! Maggie! Tessa! Josefina! Alice! Nazirah!"

Six bored-looking whores of various ethnicities straggled out from the back. They ranged in age from their late-20s well into their 40s. Their faces were garishly made-up with too much rouge and bright lip-color, and their cheap gaudy dresses displayed over-abundant cleavage. They posed suggestively, all of them eying the Marine and treating Benjamin as if he weren't there.

"Go ahead and pick, lad. It only costs a shilling for a good time with one of these beauties. You too, soldier; don't be shy."

Benjamin looked more uncomfortable than ever. "Angus," he murmured to his friend. "I don't think I want any of them. They're all so old!"

"You got any younger ones here?" asked MacDade. The six women all huffed at the affront, but the madam hushed them.

"I've got some other girls what's takin' care of customers right now. So how young you want 'em?"

Benjamin finally found his voice and spoke up. "I'm 14. You got any that ain't twice my age?"

"Well, now!" said the woman, looking a bit startled. "You'd be wise to pick an experienced woman to break you in right. But I got a cleaning girl who sometimes takes customers 3; when a gent wants to rob the cradle, that is."

"Bring her out then," said Angus.

"Rosalinda! Get on out here!" bellowed the woman.

A young girl, smaller than Benjamin and wearing a plain peasant-dress, came out from the back room carrying a bucket and mop.

"Put those things down, girl. This young customer wants to take a look at ya."

Angus took one look at the girl and said, "Uh; I don't think my friend meant THAT young! How old is she anyway? Does she even got hair down below?"

"She's 13," said the proprietress. Then she told the girl, "Show the gents what ya got, dearie."

The Spanish girl blushed slightly as she pulled up the hem of her ankle-length dress. Her hips were boyishly slim, and her girl-slit was adorned with a scattering of soft brown hair. She lifted a foot onto the seat of a chair and ran her middle finger several times between the labial lips, then used two fingers to spread the lips apart to offer a peek at the pink inner flesh and slightly-protruding clitoris. Her pussy was attractively youthful, but well along in adolescent maturity and evident sexual experience.

Benjamin looked up at Angus, wordlessly seeking his approval and smiling with excitement. The Marine nodded.

"I'll take her!" said Benjamin with genuine enthusiasm. "And Angus 3; could you, maybe, come with me to do this? We can do her together!"

"Hold it just a bloomin' minute!" said the proprietress. "You want this girl to take both of you together? What kind of house do you think I run?"

"Maybe we'll just take our business elsewhere," said Angus.

"Alright; alright. If you insist. But it'll cost the same as having two girls – two shillings for the both of you. And you only get her for the usual time – half an hour."

"She's the blinkin' cleaning girl!" exclaimed Angus. "Make it one-and-six, for a full hour, and you've got a deal." He gave Benjamin a subtle wink.

A brief back-and-forth of haggling concluded with an agreement of two shillings for an hour.

"Damned sailors!" the woman muttered as she took the money.

The girl led them upstairs, where there was a warren of small rooms. Some had their doors closed, and the sounds from behind them – creaking bed frames and vocalizations of lust – could be heard in the hallway. They entered a room furnished with a bed and a small table with an oil lamp and two sand-clocks of different sizes. The sounds of the street, but not much sunlight, came through a small window. The girl turned over the larger sand-clock and then turned to the boy. They stood looking at each other tentatively but neither make the first move.

"Come on, then," said Angus, as he started removing his uniform. "You've got to get bare-arse if you're going to do it proper-like."

Benjamin pulled off his sailcloth shirt, exposing his smooth, wiry-muscled torso, but he fiddled hesitantly with the knotted rope that held up his trousers. His concentration was focused on Rosalinda as she reached behind to unbutton the top of her dress. In an instant, the dress slid down her arms and body and fell to the floor, leaving her completely naked. Rosalinda's Mediterranean complexion gave her an all-over tan, and her chest was adorned with budding breasts tipped by dark brown nipples. Her slender hips and lean boyish frame excited Benjamin far more than did the bodies of the plump and voluptuous older whores.

Rosalinda brought her hands up to her breasts, smiling shyly but with a teasing twinkle in her eye. She ran her fingertips across the nipples, making them stiffen. The girl watched as Benjamin untied the rope that held up his too-large trousers, the legs of which that had been cut off at the bottom to fit. In a moment he was naked as well, his penis already fully erect, and they stared at each other's youthful barely-adolescent bodies. Benjamin wasn't completely sure what he was supposed to do with her, but he was totally familiar with the feelings of lust that surged through his body and brain.

"Give the girl a snog," prompted Angus, as he finished stripping off his own clothing.

Benjamin and Rosalinda both moved toward each other, and in a moment their bodies were touching 3; her small breasts pressing against chest 3; his slender erection pressing against her downy-haired mound. The girl tilted up her face slightly, and Benjamin cautiously brought his lips to meet hers. Rosalinda's tongue playfully darted out and slithered between the boy's lips. She reached for his hand and brought it up to her breast, and he fondled the soft flesh and the stiff nipple. Then the girl's hand snaked between their bodies to grasp his boyish erection. As the girl began stroking his rigid cock, Benjamin's moans were muffled by their aggressive tongue-kissing.

"Time to get between her legs and take a ride, Kittsy," said Angus. "Let yourself go this first time. Give it to her hard and fast, and don't hold back your cum. Then you'll be in good shape to take it slow and enjoy some special fun on your next go-round. And knowing your horny cock and balls as I do, you'll be good for a third cum before our hour's up. I'll show you some fine ways we can both fuck her at the same time."

The Spanish girl got on her back on the bed, with her legs spread. Her hands wandered sensuously across her breasts and then down to her slit, toying with her pussy and rubbing her clit. Her face and voice expressed sexual desire that might not even have been feigned, as she beckoned the boy to enter her.

Benjamin knelt on the bed between the girl's legs, gazing at female sex-parts for the very first time. He cautiously inserted his finger into the glistening pink slit.

"Get to it, boy!" said Angus. "I'm getting hot for my turn!"

Benjamin brought his body down onto the girl, and his hips made several random thrusts as his cock unsuccessfully sought its target. Rosalinda reached down and guided the pubescent erection into the sleeve of hot self-lubricated flesh, and the boy understood instantly why the crewmen spoke so highly of fucking a woman. It wasn't nearly as snug as fucking a boy's ass, but the warm slipperiness that surrounded his penis felt indescribably good as he thrust urgently between her legs.

Benjamin followed his mentor's advice, letting his youthful desire run wild. As he fucked in rapid strokes, the girl's legs wrapped around his haunches, and her fingernails dug into his back as she urged him to pound her fast and hard. The two of them grunted and cried out with raw lust as the man watched, slowly stroking his stiff cock.

Before long, Benjamin had shot the first of his boy-spunk into the girl. He rolled off her, temporarily sated. But she was primed for more and practically writhed on the bed as her fingers stroked her freshly-fucked cunt.

"Métemelo!" she begged Angus. "Put it in me!"

"Here I come, lassie!" said Angus with a chuckle. "Spread your wings for me." He got atop her and eased his cock in. "Ahhh; that's a nice tight cunt you've got, gal!" He quickly established an even, steady pace of his thrusting hips. "Watch how I'm doing it, Kittsy. You can keep a fuck going for a good long time if you slow it down." Looking over at Benjamin, he was pleased to see that the boy's penis was already stiffening again as he played with himself while watching the Angus fuck the girl.

Angus had only been going for five minutes when a clamor from out in the street intruded.

"Crews of the Vigilant, the Apollo, the Unicorn! Back to your ships!" A bosun's mate was shouting into his brass speaking-trumpet as he walked briskly through the neighborhood of taverns and brothels, repeating the announcement.

"Damnation!" muttered Angus. "Just when things were getting fun and we were paid up for a whole hour. Why in blazes would they call us back now? Tell you what Kittsy; reach back and grab hold of my bollocks, and give 'em a good squeeze whist I hurry it up and shoot my spunk into the gal's twat."

When they returned to the quay, abuzz with the returning crews of several warships, the rumor mill was spinning a variety of explanations, none of them correct.

The full crew of the Apollo eventually assembled on deck to be addressed by the Captain.

"Seems the Mohammedans in Algiers have broken their treaty with the King, no doubt bribed by the devilish Bonaparte. They've begun attacking our merchant ships, and it's up to the Royal Navy to set things right 3; show the Mohammedans the error of their ways and get them under treaty again. Are we ready to engage the heathen and teach 'em a lesson?" A cheer went up from the men and boys. "Are we ready to earn some prize money?" Even louder cheering erupted.

The Apollo set out from Gibraltar harbor in the late afternoon on a light but favorable breeze, heading east to sail along the North African coast. Their orders were to attack any Algerian corsairs that they might encounter along the way, and the rendezvous with other British warships to impose a blockade when they reached the port of Algiers.

They sailed all night without encountering any ships of the new enemy. But as dawn broke, the lookout up in the crow's nest shouted down to the officer of the deck that there were sails to the east, heading toward the Apollo. A senior midshipman climbed high up in the rigging and shouted down his findings.

"It's a French ship-of-the-line! Three gun decks! And the smaller boats appear to be Algerian galleys; ten of them!

The Apollo would be no match for a ship-of-the-line from Napoleon's navy. The 118 guns of the sea-going behemoth included 32-pounders that would overwhelm the Apollo's 38 cannons, all of them 18-pounders. The small boats accompanying the French ship were powered by both oars and lateen-rigged sails. Their maneuverability against the wind could give them a tactical advantage, even though their cannons were few in number and size.

"Come about, bosun!" ordered the captain. "Take us back to Gibralter and the protection of the shore guns. We must pick our battles, and this one would be suicide. At least we might draw them away from the rest of our fleet assembling at Algiers."

But heading in the opposite direction meant heading into the wind, and the African coast hemmed them from the south. The oar-driven galleys were soon within range, and their bow-mounted guns began lobbing cannonballs into the British frigate. Chain-shot – two cannonballs connected by a length of iron chain – spun through the air like bolos, ripping out sails, ropes and spars, slowing the Apollo even more. And then a lucky shot hit the ship's rudder, making the Apollo veer out of control. The galleys now hung back as the French ship came up and began pouring lead into the helpless British ship. Canister-shot from the top tier of cannons, along with sharpshooters in the rigging, mauled the deck crew of the Apollo. Massive cannonballs smashed into the gun deck, sending deadly splinters flying through the air. But Captain Westmoreland stubbornly refused to surrender.

Now the French ship hung back while the ten galleys swarmed in like angry hornets. Algerian sailors with razor-edged curved swords scrambled aboard and soon overwhelmed the British crew in hand-to-hand fighting, while French sharpshooters continued to take a deadly toll. With startling suddenness the fighting ended, as the British threw down their weapons and surrendered, almost simultaneously.

It quickly became clear that while the French would claim the British ship as a prize of war, the Algerians would be getting the human prizes. After the dead and seriously wounded were thrown over the side, there were 190 men and boys in captivity. The various Algerian captains or their representatives came aboard to divide the captives among themselves in accordance with pre-arranged ground rules. The prisoners were divided into groups from which the selections would be made: officers (who could be ransomed), seamen (who would be sold into slavery for a short and brutal life of hard labor), and boys (whose slavery would typically entail work of an entirely different nature).

The person picking on behalf of the largest and most ornate of the galleys was a young man who had handsome Northern European features, but was dressed in North African attire and fluently spoke the local dialect of Arabic. It was evident that he had the privilege of picking first from among the three groups. He chose the most ransom-worthy of the officers: the captain and the immaculately-tailored Midshipman Grosvenor. He also picked the strongest-looking of the seamen and the two most comely of the ship's boys, Benjamin and Davey.

The 19 British prisoners were brought aboard the galley and taken under heavy guard to a large room below-decks, where the ship's captain would be evaluating the selection. The finely dressed middle-aged Algerian aristocrat sat in an ornate chair, giving particular notice to the three boys among the captives.

Captain Westmoreland, with a hateful look in his eyes, was brought in front of his opposite number. The Algerian captain murmured in Arabic to the young assistant who was now sitting next to him at a small writing table, and the younger man translated the words to English 3; in the accent of a middle-class American from Massachusetts!

"I will need your name and information about your family's wealth, Captain, so you can be quickly ransomed." Then he added in a casual voice: "My also master admires your fine boots, and he requires that you give them over."

Captain Westmoreland was momentarily dumb-struck; first by the fact that the Algerian who addressed him spoke like an American, and secondly by the demand for his boots.

"What's YOUR name, Yankee scum?" demanded the captain haughtily. "And what is your station aboard this heathen pirate vessel?"

A momentary coldness passed over the young man's face, but he did not lose his composure. "My name is Samir, and I am Captain Zidane's secretary. What you have disrespectfully referred to as a pirate vessel is the flagship the Algerian Navy, in service to my master's illustrious cousin, the Pasha Ahmed ben Ali. And you are a prisoner, in no position to refuse my master's demand for your information and your boots."

"I shall NOT!" shouted the British captain.

There was another whispered conversation between Samir and Captain Zidane.

"You are setting a very bad example for your men, Captain," said Samir. "So now you must become a good example."

Samir gave an order in Arabic, and four of the burly sailors who were guarding the prisoners sheathed their swords and came forward to seize Captain Westmoreland. They quickly wrestled off not only the captain's boots, but all of the rest of his clothing as well, tearing some of it in the process. They forced him face-down onto a sturdy table and tied his wrists and ankles with ropes that were already attached to the table; then they stepped away.

Another order was issued, and a large black-African sailor came forward holding a slender punishment rod, of the kind a British school-master might wield. The muscular man commenced to administer a rapid and methodical beating to every part of Captain Westmoreland's back-side, from his shoulders all the way to the soles of his feet. The captain's angry protests quickly turned to yelps of pain, and then to pleas for mercy. After several minutes of whipping, the entire back of his body had become a crazy pattern of overlapping welts, and the man was sobbing uncontrollably.

Another order was issued by Captain Zidane and transmitted to the crew by Samir. The guards shifted the British captain's position on the table so that his legs hung over the edge of the table, spread apart, and his ankles tied off securely to the table-legs. The bare-chested black man set down the rod and lowered his baggy trousers, revealing a massive cock that was already half-hard. It became fully erect when he pulled back his foreskin, spit on his hand, and stroked the broad eggplant-colored glans a few times. Westmoreland looked back over his shoulder, and his eyes widened in terror as the African stepped up close and aimed his monstrous cock at the captain's exposed asshole. When the sailor thrust forward, a howl rose from the captain's mouth as the thick cock-head forced its way into the tightly clenched anus. The captain's shouts of pain continued until a cloth was stuffed in his mouth. The big black man was soon thrusting the entire length of his cock into the middle-aged man's tight ass. As the brutal fucking continued in full view of the wide-eyed British prisoners, the only noises in the room were the satisfied grunts of the black-skinned giant and unearthly-sounding muffled squeals from Captain Westmoreland's throat.

When the anal rape was finally over, Captain Westmoreland was hauled to his feet and brought back to face his captor. Samir again translated for his Algerian master.

"My master says that you will compose two letters; one to your government and another to your family. You will convince them to send a ransom of 2,000 gold guineas for your release. The faster they send it, the faster you will escape the discomforts of your captivity. The letters will be carried through normal channels by our French allies. Is this clear, Captain?"

"Yes 3; clear," mumbled the thoroughly-broken man. A trail of blood-streaked semen emerged from his dilated asshole and slowly flowed down across the cross-hatching of angry welts on his thigh. Westmoreland was led from the room, barely able to walk, supported on each side by an Algerian.

Captain Zidane now turned his attention to the beautiful blond midshipman, Chauncey Grosvenor. He spoke softly, and Samir translated.

"Strip nude, boy."

Chauncey hurried to comply, and in a moment the 14-year-old was standing naked before the approving captain. The boy's hands modestly covered his crotch, but the rest of his body was on display. Captain Zidane spoke to him in Arabic.

"My master directs you to approach him so that he can examine you more closely," said Samir. "No need to be modesty, boy. Put your hands behind your head, and stand next to his chair."

Chauncey did as he was told. He would do anything to avoid the treatment that Captain Westmoreland had just received.

When Chauncey stood beside Zidane, the man ran his hands over the boy's arms, chest, flanks and buttocks. The pale flesh was smoothed by a slight plumpness that contrasted with the tanned and wiry leanness of the two ship's boys who stood several paces back. Then the captain's fingers went to the boy's barely-adolescent penis, causing it to rise quickly to erection, as the man's other hand fondled Chauncey's soft ball-sack. The upper-class youth quietly gasped with involuntary arousal.

"He is worthy of the Sultan's boy-harem in Istanbul!" Zidane said to his secretary in Arabic.

"He is truly a magnificent example of boy-beauty, Master." While saying this, Samir's focus was not on the undeniably beautiful midshipman, but instead on Benjamin, standing behind Chauncey. Samir was strongly drawn to the bare-chested ship's boy, and only reluctantly brought his attention back to what Captain Zidane was saying.

"Quite so," said the captain, caressing Chauncey's perfect young erection one more time. "Send him to my cabin, and I will examine him more thoroughly as soon as I am finished with these other prisoners."

"Yes, Master," said Samir, and he gave instructions for the midshipman to be led away, still naked.

The 15 British seamen were dealt with quickly. They would become slaves, sold at public auction in Algiers. But two of them were needed to fill out the complement of 60 slaves who manned the galley's 30 oars, replacing men who had collapsed from exhaustion during the recent battle. The malingerers could not be persuaded by flogging to return to their rowing, so they were beaten to death in view of the other galley slaves.

Zidane picked out two sturdy-looking British sailors and directed that they be taken down to the oar-deck of the galley. There they were stripped naked, like the other galley slaves, and their ankles were shackled to the floor beneath a rowing bench. The two new rowers were each given a half-dozen unwarranted lashes across their backs by the overseer, providing a taste of the brutality of their new lives.

When the rest of the sailors were led away to a holding cell, only Benjamin and Davey remained in the room with Zidane, Samir, and several Algerian crewmen.

"I want them both naked," said the captain, and Samir translated the instruction. The two boys wore only their sailcloth trousers, held up by a length of rope, so they were nude in an instant. Samir questioned them for their names and ages, while the captain explored their bodies lasciviously with his hands, paying particular attention to their penises and balls.

"This younger one is just the right age to be fixed," said Zidane as he lifted Davey on his lap, kissing and fondling the little boy intimately. "Do you agree?"

"Yes, master. He would fetch an excellent price from the right buyer!" said Samir with feigned enthusiasm in his voice.

"Have it done now," said the captain. "I always enjoy watching."

Samir gave the orders. A brazier that had been in the corner of the room was brought forward, with the blade of a sharp knife buried in the hot coals. Davey was taken to the table on which Westmoreland had been whipped and raped, and he was tied down on his back by the sailors. A specially-shaped block of wood was slipped between the boy's legs, snug-up against his crotch, with the boy's scrotum lying atop it. A sailor held Davey's small slender penis against his belly while the fingers of his other hand stretched out the 11-year-old's immature ball-sack. Another sailor got the knife and examined its red-hot blade.

Benjamin stood beside Samir, watching these preparations with a growing sense of horror. Samir pulled Benjamin into an embrace and turned the boy's face away.

"Look at me, Benjamin; not at your friend. What is about to happen will not hurt him for more than a moment. He'll be alright soon. Understand?" The boy nodded. "I want to protect you, Benjamin; to keep you aboard this ship with me," Samir whispered. "You seem a clever lad, and you must use all your wits and charm if this is to work. Follow all of my instructions without hesitation, giving every appearance of doing so eagerly." Benjamin nodded again. He was confused, but feeling a bit of hope for the first time since his capture.

But just then, Benjamin's ears rang with the sound of Davey's scream, and his nose caught the scent of burned flesh.

When Benjamin turned back to look, it was already over. Davey was falling into shock and felt no pain. The wound was cauterized by the heat and would be unlikely to become infected. And the castrated boy's price at auction was now almost double what he would have fetched if his testicles were intact. (He would fetch far more if his penis had been removed as well, but the mortality rate was vastly greater, and the recovery time slow.) Davey would likely become a household servant somewhere in the Ottoman Empire, where European eunuch-slaves were always a fashionable accessory. Or perhaps he'd be purchased by the owner of a brothel, where he would service customers who had a fetish for submissive eunuch-boys.

When Davey was removed from the table and carried away in the arms of a strong sailor, Captain Zidane turned his attention to Benjamin.

"What do you think, Samir? Should this one be fixed as well?"

"I would advise that he not, Master. His masculine parts are too far along in their development, and he would not make a satisfactory eunuch."

"What do you suggest, then?" The inflection in the captain's voice suggested a knowing amusement.

"Have you considered whether you would like a regular bed companion again?" Samir himself was taken to the captain's bed with dwindling frequency, as the man's primary attraction was to younger teenage boys. "This one is 3;."

"He reminds you of yourself, Samir my love, when you first came to me."

"Yes, Master," said the younger man, blushing that his thoughts had been so transparent to the captain. Five years before, he had been in the same position as this boy 3; a frightened captive after the merchant ship that his father owned and captained had been seized and his father slain in the brief fight. There had been no insurance, and his family back in Massachusetts was bankrupted by debt, unable to ransom the boy's return. But Captain Zidane was more than happy to keep the 13-year-old, whose real name had been Samuel, as his catamite slave.

"I know you well, Samir, just as you know me. Bring him back to my cabin, and we will try him out, along with our exquisite blond young officer, all four of us taking pleasures together in my bed!"

"Yes, Master."

Chapter Four

As they neared the captain's cabin, a shirtless black-skinned boy was sitting on a stool outside the door, absent-mindedly diddling his stiff penis through the diaphanous fabric of his loose trousers. When he saw the group approaching, the exotic looking 12-year-old jumped to his feet, bowed deeply, and turned the large iron key to unlock the cabin door. Without speaking, he immediately became effeminate and seductive in his body language, and his hand returned to fondling his erection. The boy's sensuous eyes surveyed Benjamin's naked body, and with clearly erotic intent the African sex-slave swiped the tip of his tongue slowly across his upper lip. Two weeks previously he had been rented out to Captain Zidane by an Algiers boy-brothel and was well-skilled and experienced in the sexual arts. His anus tingled in enthusiastic anticipation at the thought of the impending man/boy orgy.

"Master will not require your services this afternoon, Hakim," said Samir. The boy's luscious full lips formed a petulant pout. "When you serve his supper at the usual time, bring a double portion," Samir continued. "Until then, you may occupy yourself as you wish, so long as you stay out of trouble."

The boy made a bow and then ran off, not having uttered a word. He headed toward the crew's quarters, where his considerable sexual charms – and his love of being fucked by men – would find a more appreciative reception.

The captain's cabin was surprisingly ornate for a fighting ship. A significant portion of the room was taken up by an oversized feather-bed, on which sat the despondent Midshipman Chauncey Grosvenor, still completely naked. When he saw the captain and the strange younger man (an Algerian who looked English and spoke like an American) he jumped up off the bed and stood at the bedside. The presence of Benjamin puzzled Chauncey even more; the relationship between the two boys had been awkward ever since the midshipman's punishment, several weeks before, in Captain Westmoreland's quarters. The only thing of which Chauncey was certain was that he dare not cover his genitals, having been chastised for doing so when Zidane had first examined him.

"Ah! Seeing again this jewel of boy-beauty is a sweet pleasure!" exclaimed the captain in the Algerian dialect of Arabic. "He causes my heart to gallop with excitement, and my man-part to stiffen with lust. So pale and smooth and soft is his body. Such splendidly round buttocks. And he has a perfectly-formed boy-part 3; even though it is uncircumcised. Were it not for the gold that his ransom will bring, I would be tempted to keep him as my pleasure-slave."

"He will not be ransomed for at least a month, Master," said Samir, also speaking Arabic; "so you will have him to enjoy for that time. And this one," he said, motioning to Benjamin, "can be yours to play with for as long as you wish. I think he will retain for at least a year the boyish characteristics that most appeal to you; perhaps for a good while longer."

"He appears a satisfactory bed partner. But the blond-haired one is unlike any I've seen since our illustrious Sultan visited Algiers on his tour of the Empire, and he brought along the top rank of his boy-harem – the most beautiful pleasure-boys from every part of the Empire and beyond."

Neither boy understood the talk, of course, which only added to their apprehension. But when Samir began removing the captain's clothing, with the brisk efficiency of an experienced valet, it was becoming evident what would come next. In another minute, the Algerian captain was nude and reclining on his bed. Though of middle-age, he had not allowed his body to grow fat like the indolent aristocrats at the palace. But he was every bit as sexually decadent as the courtiers back in Algiers, and his manly cock – which was a good bit larger than average in both length and girth – was already stiff with anticipation as he lay back against the cushions and gazed lustfully at the naked boys.

"Give them some directions, Samir," said the captain. "You always know what I enjoy in these matters. Take off your own clothing too. I desire that you join in."

"As you command," said the handsome 18-year-old with a sly grin. Addressing the boys in English, he said "Lads, Captain Zidane is your new master; you are his slaves. Get that into your heads. Your task now is to bring him pleasure 3; to his eyes, his ears (even though he won't understand what you say), to every part of his body, and especially his cock. If you displease him for any reason, the captain can be rather harsh, so try your best. I may give you some instructions as you go, but it would be better if you took the initiative upon yourselves. I've a notion that any boy who's served on an English ship knows a thing or two about pleasing a man in bed 3; or at least that you do, Master Powder-Monkey." He gave Benjamin a wink. "First off, you'll stand beside the bed and caress each other with your hands and kiss with your tongues, for the Captain's enjoyment. Go on, now. Make a good show of it!"

Benjamin and Chauncey approached each other cautiously. Benjamin was forcing a sexy smile, but the midshipman was blank-faced and absorbed in his own thoughts, as his mind reacted with shock at hearing that he was now a slave.

"Smile, damn you!" hissed the lower-class ship's boy quietly. "You heard what the man said. Don't be a bloody fool!"

Though it snapped him out of his mental stupor, the upper-class midshipman instinctively took offense and hissed back under his breath: "How dare you speak to an officer like 3;." But before Chauncey's last word came out, Benjamin planted a kiss on the other boy's mouth and wrapped him in a hug. Benjamin's hands roamed sensuously down Chauncey's back to his shapely butt, and his tongue invaded the boy's mouth. The midshipman responded in spite of himself, as his brain instantly generated sexual arousal. He also realized that Benjamin had probably saved him from punishment, and he relaxed in the other boy's arms, returning the caresses. Their tongues entwined sloppily, outside their mouths, as a show for the Algerian captain, while their stiffening cocks slid together obscenely.

"They make a handsome pair," said Zidane.

"That they do, Master," Samir replied as he finished removing his own clothes. He slid onto the bed next to the captain and began stroking the older man's prodigiously-sized cock, as he had done so many other times during his five years of slavery. "Shall we see if they have skill with their mouths?" Samir asked.

"Of course! Test out the blond one first."

"Blondie," said the American, not recalling Chauncey's name. "Get on your knees and suck Benjamin's cock for a bit. Chauncey knelt down immediately and captured Benjamin's erect penis in his mouth. Memories of sucking the barely-pubescent cock several weeks previously filled the midshipman's mind as his lips began working up and down the slender shaft. He accentuated the slurping of his lips and tongue in hopes that the wet sounds of sex would please the captain.

After a couple minutes of receiving the blow-job passively, Benjamin added to the display by grasping handfuls of blond hair and pulling Chauncey's head forward, while thrusting his cock into the sucking mouth. That began a vigorous face-fucking, punctuated by Benjamin's exaggerated moans of pleasure.

"Alright lads; lie on the foot of the bed and suck each other at the same time. Do you know how to position yourselves in the six and the nine?" Both of them nodded, though it took Chauncey a moment to connect the two numbers with the act he'd discovered in sex-play with his young cousin on their country manor. Samir positioned them to best visual effect. "Benjamin on your back; Blondie on top. Let the captain get a good view of Blondie's butt, and of both your cocks moving between lips."

Samir kept up his part as well, continuing to gently masturbate Zidane, snuggling against his master's body, and pressing his own erect cock against the man's thigh. They both watched as the two boys energetically sucked each others' young-adolescent cocks simultaneously.

"They use their mouths well," said the captain admiringly after watching the sex-show for several minutes. "Tell the beautiful one to come and lie with me, while the slender one sucks me."

In a moment, Chauncey was lying on the opposite side of Captain Zidane from Samir. Chauncey tried his best to repress the distaste he felt for the pirate captain who had defeated his ship in a one-sided battle that killed dozens of his shipmates, and who was now pawing lasciviously at the boy's naked body. Zidane was oblivious to any disdain, caring only about caressing Chauncey's soft smooth body and exploring every accessible surface of the boy's flawless pale skin. With growing lust, he began fondling Chauncey's youthful erection, while plunging his tongue into the hesitant boy's mouth. At the same moment, Benjamin's lips were stretched wide, sliding ever-farther down the man's fat erection. The penis was among the thickest he'd ever sucked, but he was well practiced in taking a large cock into his throat. The man purred with sensual delight as he tongue-kissed and masturbated the beautiful aristocratic boy, while being expertly serviced by Benjamin's skilled mouth and his deep throat.

Samir stayed by his master's side, watching the scene, but did not participate. He was relieved that the Algerian was enjoying the boys' efforts. During the five years since his capture, it had been Samir's daily chore to keep his master sexually satisfied, whether by his own actions or in procuring a constantly-changing series of boys like Hakim for his enjoyment. The American never underestimated the casual cruelty that the captain could exhibit when anything displeased him – as the faded whip scars on Samir's own back would attest – and he always strove to keep his master content.

"Shall I have the blond boy mount you, Master?" he asked, anticipating the next phase of sexual service.

"Yes! A fine idea!"

"Blondie," said Samir to Chauncey. "Lie atop your master, kissing him intensely and rubbing your body against his. And Benjamin, you shall lick your shipmate's arse-hole to prepare it for a fuck."

"Aye, sir!" said Benjamin. He had been conditioned from a young age to follow orders, including sexual demands, without question or hesitation.

Chauncey repositioned himself on Zidane's chest, kissing him with lips and tongue. The captain ran his hands over the boy's back and down to his ripe round buttocks, spreading them apart. Benjamin brought his face down to rim the boy's asshole with vigorous laps of his tongue. He drilled at the clenched pucker, lubricating the passageway. Then he spit twice on his hand and twisted his palm around the captain's cock-head, slathering it with saliva and directing it toward Chauncey's anus.

"Sit up and ease your bum down on his cock," Benjamin said. "I'll hold it steady for you and aim it in." The midshipman tried to back into the man's erection, but winced in pain as the broad cock-head pressed against his tight hole. He pulled away and then tried again, gritting his teeth, but with same result. "Come on, mate," urged Benjamin. "Sit yourself astride his hips, like you was ridin' a horse, and then ease down on the saddle. Ain't ya never been fucked this way before?"

"No," Chauncey whimpered. He's been fucked only twice before, and only once by a man – Captain Westmoreland – whose cock was of rather smaller proportions than Zidane's. But he did as Benjamin suggested, sitting up straight and bringing himself down on the upraised erection. Benjamin used his free hand to pull down on Chauncey's hip, but the boy cried out as the fat cock-head again stabbed painfully at his tightly clenched anal circle.

"Ouch! Stop! I can't do it!" wailed the upper-class boy.

Benjamin exchanged a worried glance with Samir. They both looked at the captain, who seemed to be losing his patience.

"I think, Master, that this one needs some encouragement to motivate him," said Samir, as he shooed Benjamin aside and brought the flat of his hand down sharply on Chauncey's butt.

The boy yelped again, as much in surprise as in pain. But then he clamped his jaw shut, determined not to cry out any more. He knew he could do so, having taken many a bare-bottomed spanking from his private teacher back on his family's manor. Chauncey's body trembled as the young man's hand rained down rapid full-strength smacks on the reddening butt, but the midshipman silently accepted the painful punishment.

"Are you ready to ride your master's cock, lad?" asked Samir. "Sorry to hurt you, but if I hadn't done it, Master might have ordered you caned by the big sailor who lit into your foolhardy skipper's backside a while ago."

"I think I'm ready now, sir. And 3; thank you, sir," said the humbled boy as he wiped at the tears running down his face.

Benjamin gave Zidane's cock a few sloppy sucks to wet it again, and Chauncey repositioned himself.

"Push open your butt-hole as the prong is slidin' in, mate," whispered Benjamin, as the other boy slowly impaled himself on the rod of cock-flesh.

Though he had little experience being fucked, Chauncey had much more experience as a 'top', having paid to bugger several of the ship's boys aboard the Apollo. All of those boys seemed to have enjoyed bottoming for the young midshipman. And the time Chauncey had been fucked by Westmoreland, the pain of penetration had eventually given way to something more closely resembling pleasure.

With a stoic effort, he not only refrained from crying out, but managed to look as if he were enjoying the burning intrusion of the man's thick circumcised cock into his ass. And, sure enough, the more he flexed his legs to slide the stiff penis back and forth inside his chute, the more tolerable it became. It was still quite painful, but he knew he could get through it. He even generated the sighs and moans of lustful pleasure, even though he felt no such thing.

Zidane resumed his exploration of the beautiful boy who was now riding his cock. The man's hands wandered over Chauncey's body, feeling his silky blond hair, stroking his shoulders and chest and arms, then grasping Chauncey's hips to establish the desired cadence of up and down fuck-strokes. And then the captain's fingers went to the boy's crotch, fondling the soft penis and ball-sack lasciviously in an effort to coax it to erection.

Meanwhile, beside them on the bed, Samir and Benjamin were beginning to engage in activity of their own.

"Come to me, boy," said Samir.

Benjamin lay beside him on the bed. He felt at ease with the young man, and the two snuggled together in a tender embrace. Samir was quite handsome; strong, yet sensitive; sensible, yet clearly smitten with Benjamin. He reminded the boy of Angus, the Royal Marine corporal on the Apollo who'd become Benjamin's dearest adult friend, and whom he hadn't seen since before the battle.

"I've taken a shine to you, Benjamin," said Samir in a whisper.

"My shipmates call me Kittsy, sir. You can too if it pleases you."

"Then Kittsie it shall be. I wasn't fooling when I said that I'd look out for you. I convinced the captain that you shouldn't have your balls sliced off, like what happened to the other lad, and I'm trying to have him take you as his personal servant, as I've been. I was in your same situation five years ago when my ship was captured. I was 13; the cabin-boy on the merchant ship Elena Gaye, out of New Bedford and bound for Genoa. Captain Zidane changed my name from Samuel to Samir, had the foreskin cut from my dick like a Muslim, and kept me as his slave. I'll tell you, though, that my life has been easier than the fate of my shipmates, who toil in cruel labor 3; if they're even still alive 3; in the mines and quarries, the brickworks and tanneries, or on the rowing benches of galleys like this one. Your young officer there will get ransomed and sent home in time. But unless your government is more generous than I expect, you won't and neither will the sailors from your ship. So your best bet is to do as I did – make yourself sexually desirable for the captain, learn to please him intensely, and learn his language quickly. With some luck, things will turn out as tolerable for you as they've been for me."

Just then, Captain Zidane turned his attention from Chauncey, and spoke to Samir.

"Come nearer, my love, and have the dark-haired boy mount your cock while the blond one rides mine. And have your boy face toward your feet so I can see his buttocks and watch as your cock spears his hole."

"Yes, Master," said Samir. He directed Benjamin to give him a quick suck to lubricate his cock, as he positioned himself so he was leaning back on the same cushions on which the captain reclined. Then he positioned Benjamin so he was straddling the young man's hips, facing away. As Benjamin took the man's cock inside his anus and eased into a comfortable fuck-rhythm, he looked over at Chauncey right beside him. The midshipman managed an uneasy smile, and Benjamin gave him a wink, as both boys rode men's cocks and showed off their sensuous young bodies.

Impulsively, Chauncey leaned toward Benjamin and kissed him. When Benjamin responded in kind, their tongues emerged to renew their show of wanton open-mouthed kissing. Chauncey's hand grabbed hold of Benjamin's cock and began stroking it. At that moment his own youthful penis finally began stiffening in Captain Zidane's hand, much to the Algerian's satisfaction.

Zidane reached over to feel Benjamin as well, fondling the boy's slender butt. His fingertips slid down to brush against Samir's slippery erection as it slid in and out of the tight asshole.

The sounds of sex filled the cabin – moans and grunts; muttered words of lust spoken in Arabic and English; the slapping sounds of fucking and the swishing sounds of masturbation. All four participants were now totally involved in the giving and taking of carnal pleasure.

"Turn around to face me, boy," said Samir to Benjamin after a while; "so I can stroke the cream from your cock. The captain enjoys the sight of a young lad's spunk shooting out."

Benjamin swung his legs around, smoothly rotating 180 degrees while impaled on the man's rigid erection. As the boy resumed flexing his legs to ride the cock, Samir reached for the slender adolescent boner. As the man worked the boy's foreskin back and forth on the perfect youthful glans, Benjamin groaned with unfeigned ecstasy. After only a couple minutes of vigorous masturbation, Benjamin's penis shot off a spray of boy-cum onto the man's chest and hand. Samir could feel the spasms of the boy's asshole, clenching at his cock, and he pulled Benjamin to his chest, hugging the boy and thrusting his hips vigorously. He'd never been very good at holding back his first orgasm of a sex-session, and this time was no different. He urgently pounded his cock into Benjamin's body until his climax exploded in his brain and out from his throbbing cock. Pulses of hot semen shot into the boy's rectum as the two kissed again, deeply and passionately.

Zidane and Chauncey kept fucking at a steady pace, though the attention of both was focused on the erotic scene that unfolded right beside them. And as Benjamin and Samir snuggled together, whispering to each other in the afterglow of mutual orgasm, Zidane was re-positioning Chauncey face-down on the bed and penetrating him from behind. When the captain was enjoying a good fuck, he could keep going for a very long time, switching among a variety of positions.

Just as Samir and Benjamin were playfully fondling each other to renewed erections, in preparation for another sexual coupling of their own 3;.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!

"Demons from Hell!" muttered the captain. "Who would dare to disturb me at a time like this?" He yelled out: "Enter!"

The ship's first-mate opened the door, staring wide-eyed for a moment at the sexual tableau, and then looked down at his feet deferentially.

"A thousand pardons, my captain, but 3; but 3;." His voice trailed off as he looked up again at the beautiful naked boys atop the equally naked men.

"Spit it out, fool," said Zidane. "Why have you interrupted my pleasure time?" He was already pushing Chauncey off of him and rising up from his bed, his large dark-red cock sticking up fully erect, slick with the juices of the boy's rectum.

"The English fleet is approaching 3; many ships, and two of them carry a hundred guns each! Coming at us from both east and west. The French warship has signaled that he is fleeing. I hesitated for as long as I could before disturbing you, but 3;."

Just then, the boom of canons sounded from a distance.

"You son of a syphilitic whore! How long have you known this?" Zidane quickly threw on his clothing, assisted half-way through by Samir. "Join me on deck after you dress," said the captain to his personal slave. "And lock up these English boys." The captain hurried off, together with the humbled officer.

Benjamin and Chauncey were totally confused, not having understood any of the Arabic conversation. As Samir related what had been said, the boys' expressions showed a mix of anxiety and hope, but they dared not express to the young man what they were thinking.

Samir surprised them by saying exactly what was on their minds: "This is our chance for freedom, lads! I have a plan to aid our cause; something that I worked out long ago, just for such a situation. It will take boldness and bravery to carry it out. Are you with me?"

"Aye!" shouted both boys at once.

Samir led them through a side door into his own small cabin, adjacent to the captain's. From a trunk he pulled items of clothing, both Algerian and European. The three of them put on English trousers, but Algerian jackets. Samir also retrieved two daggers and a pistol from a hiding place. He gave the daggers to the boys and primed the gun as he quickly described his plan.

"Are we set, then?" he asked. The boys nodded, grinning excitedly.

The first destination was the ship's storage room, where they began piling arm-loads of swords onto three squares of canvass. When a group of Algerian sailors entered to get weapons of their own, Samir merely said: "Captain's orders," and the explanation satisfied them. Samir might have been a slave, but he spoke with authority after five years as the captain's assistant.

The three of them half-dragged the heavy bundles of weapons, with Samir leading the way, down two flights of steps to the rowing deck. After grabbing the ring of keys that hung outside the door, Samir opened the sturdy lock, and they entered a large room containing 60 naked galley-slaves, sitting four-across, two per oar. The brutally rapid pace of rowing was being beaten out on a drum, and the wiry muscles of the slaves strained with exertion. The sounds of the drum, of whips striking bare backs, and of groaning men pushed to their limit combined with a nearly overpowering stench to create a hellish environment. The two Algerian overseers were so busy moving up and down the center aisle between the rowing benches, whipping the galley-slaves to make them row even harder, that they didn't notice the intruders at first.

As Samir took aim with his pistol and dropped the overseer who was farthest away, Benjamin and Chauncey pounced on the other, slashing and stabbing with their daggers and quickly dispatching him. The rowers looked on with initial disbelief as they continued pulling at their oars for one or two more strokes. Then they stopped rowing and let their oars go slack in the water. A third Algerian, who had been beating out the rowing pace on a big kettle-drum, dropped face-down to the floor.

"Please masters! Mercy! Don't kill me!"

"Help us free the rowers, then," ordered Samir.

Four long chains ran down the length of the room, passing through rings that were welded to the shackles around the rowers ankles. After each chain was unlocked it was pulled from the other end, rapidly freeing the slaves.

At first, a group of them pounced on the drum-beater, clawing at his body in rage and strangling his neck.

"Don't bother with him!" said Samir in both Arabic and English. "Take up a cutlass and do battle with the sailors and officers up on the main deck. The English ships will soon catch up to us with our oars slack in the water. You will be free men if you fight hard, and you can take your revenge for the abuse you've received."

A shout went up, and they ran out the door and up the passageways, cutlasses in hand. The naked men were thin and dirty, most having long scraggly hair and beards, but their shoulders and arms were incredibly strong. They poured out onto the deck like wraiths rising from Hell, and they fought ferociously.

Samir, Benjamin, and Chauncey returned to the storeroom to gather up yet more weapons, and then made one more stop before joining the fight. Not far away was the locked room in which were held the captured sailors from the Apollo. The prisoners were tightly packed in the too-small room. The only one not standing was Captain Westmoreland, curled in a ball and moaning in pain. The wounds from his savage beating had scabbed over, but the internal pain from his brutal rape by a monstrously large cock still raged in his guts.

When confronted by the single Algerian guard outside the door, Samir said: "My master wants the English captain brought to him. Open the door." While the guard pondered the strangeness of the situation, Benjamin neatly sliced his throat from behind. Samir and the two boys cast off their Algerian jackets and were now dressed just like the British sailors that they were freeing.

As the new group of insurgents entered the battle on the main deck, and the galley sat nearly dead in the water for lack of oar-power, a swift British frigate overtook them. The HMS Athena was a near-twin of the Apollo. Sharpshooters in the rigging began picking off Algerians with efficient precision, and in another moment it was over. Freed slaves and prisoners shouted for joy, joined by cheers from the Athena's crew as the frigate pulled alongside.

Benjamin, Chauncey, and Samir (who henceforth would again be named Samuel) were made welcome aboard the Athena, signing on as crewmembers. As the story of their actions spread throughout the crew of the frigate, the three were hailed as heroes.

Later that night 3;.

Chauncey lay on his bunk in the midshipmen's quarters, wearing only thin cotton under-britches in the warm summer air. His head was spinning from too much wine at the celebration thrown for him by the Athena's officers. The handsome young aristocrat had re-told his story so many times that he could no longer clearly distinguish fact from embellishment. But now his mind turned to Benjamin, and sexual desire began to consume him. His hand went to his crotch as he fantasized getting naked with the other boy 3; kissing each other passionately 3; grasping each other's cock and stroking as their passions rose. Perhaps there was a place on the Athena where they could get together for sex. As he masturbated his stiff penis, the fingers of his other hand went to his asshole, still sensitive from the earlier fucking, and toyed with the delicate flesh. Fantasies inflamed his desire as his fingers rubbed and probed his anus, picturing himself getting fucked by the lower-class ship's-boy. That fantasy carried him all the way to a body-shaking, cum-spurting orgasm. In the calm after his climax, Chauncey pondered what Benjamin might be doing at this very moment.

Meanwhile, down in the crew's quarters 3;.

Samuel (no longer Samir) stood with his arm around Benjamin's shoulder as they watched the black-skinned 12-year-old dancing. Hakim was naked, his hairless body and shaved head glistening with sweat in the heat. He was exotically beautiful, subtly effeminate in manner, and his slender penis was fully erect as his hips gyrated sensuously. The small open space in which he danced was defined by a tight circle of enthusiastic sailors, marines, and ship's-boys who watched him hungrily. Those who were close could see a trail of semen flowing from his anus and down along his inner thigh. Hakim hadn't kept count of how many times he'd been fucked that day, first by Algerian sailors, before the battle, more recently by British men and older boys. The African sex-slave was officially a prisoner, but he was confident that he could manage nicely by continuing to follow a simple formula: always be sexually appealing to men, and savor the pleasures of sucking cocks and being fucked in the ass. It mattered not a bit that the masters were now Englishmen rather than Algerians, so long as he could stoke their lust for his own benefit.

"Ain't it about time for the wog lad to service a boy or two?" called out a sailor. "How's about the hero of the battle?"

Everyone's eyes turned to Benjamin, who smiled and said in a loud voice: "Thanks mates, but I'm tuckered out tonight. Next time." In a softer voice he said to Samuel: "Maybe you and me can do it tonight, someplace private-like."

Benjamin's refusal didn't dampen the crew's enthusiasm to be entertained by a display of increasingly intense boy-sex. "How's about Toby," someone else called out. "He's always game for some cock-play!" One of the more senior ship's-boys, grinning broadly, was nudged through the crowd. He stripped off his trousers – his only garment – as he approached Hakim. Toby was a self-confident lad of 13 years, with a sturdy young body. His barely-adolescent penis quickly pulsed upward to erection without being touched.

Though he couldn't understand English, Hakim knew perfectly well what was expected of him. He knelt on the deck at Toby's feet and took the other boy's sexy boner into his mouth for a suck. The African was an amazingly accomplished cocksucker, having trained and worked for several years in an Algerian boy-brothel. All eyes in the room were fixed on his bobbing mouth as he repeatedly took the full length of the white boy's stiff penis in rhythmic plunges.

Samuel was getting increasingly aroused as he watched the scene and pulled Benjamin closer against him, then slid his hand down from the boy's shoulder to feel his slender rounded butt. The boy in turn brought his hand to Samuel's crotch, squeezing the man's erect penis through his trousers. Around the room, other pairs of men and boys were similarly fondling each other, their lust enflamed by the pornographic display they were watching.

Hakim disengaged his mouth from Toby's cock and turned around with his shapely butt raised up. His anus winked open in invitation to be penetrated. Toby eagerly complied, kneeling behind and sliding his spit-slick cock completely into the hole in one lunge. As Toby began to fuck with energetic thrusts, another naked ship's-boy was pushed forward to have his cock sucked by the African boy-whore.

Some of the man/boy pairs started wandering off, and Benjamin knew the reason.

"Let's follow them," said Benjamin. "This ship's laid out just like the Apollo, and I'd say they're headed to the rope locker."

The End