Will's Slavery or Slavery On the Seven Seas

Author: Shara Nesu

Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean

Pairing: Jack/Will (of course!)

Rating: NC17

Warning: M/M Graphic sex S/M BDSM - and everything that goes with them too.

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own them *sob* I still haven't got that little Johnny Depp of my own yet!

FB: Shara-nesu@supanet.com or http://www.livejournal.com/users/sharanesu/ Please!
OH PLEASE!

Archived: Shara's place: http://www.shara-nesu.supanet.com/index.html

Distribution: Want, Have, Take. Please!

Summary: (Set after the film) Commodore Norrington doesn't being made a fool of. He's had his marriage proposal turned down and Captain Sparrow escaped right under his nose. So what does he do? Well, he kidnaps William Turner and sells him into Slavery, just to get the girl. Will's fate certainly takes a interesting turn when he's sold to one Captain Jack Sparrow, and the young lad finds himself a victim of the Captain’s wily ways.

Thanks to Helen & KLD for all of their assistance! And to Rose who begged for a Slavery fic and gave me great ideas. Also to Peja who wanted Will in Chains *grin*.


Will's Slavery or Slavery On the Seven Seas
by Shara Nesu

This isn’t how I envisaged my life to be. I rescued the Girl, got the father’s permission to marry her, planned a wedding, and then I found myself here. Here, sitting - chained - to the lower decks of a slaver’s vessel.

I never did manage to marry Elizabeth. We had returned to Port Royal after the death of Barbossa and the strange affair of freeing Jack, and went back to our normal lives. Elizabeth announced our engagement at a formal dinner party, which made me sick - I never knew I could be so nervous! Give me pirates, swords and death any day - but not a formal dinner party! Everything seemed to be going well. Governor Swann wanted us to marry in January of following year. He said 6 months was the shortest possible time for a courtship. Elizabeth was well into planning it, and I set about becoming a partner with Mr Brown. He could drink as much as he wanted, get paid, but I’d get the credit for my work, which seemed only fair really. To my surprise he agreed, and my name was painted above the doors - after his. Sometimes, I’d wonder where Jack was but never really dwelled on it.

Then one night my whole life changed. I was sleeping in my small apartment above the blacksmith’s, when I was awakened by shouts of fire. Thick black smoke was bellowing up from under my door, and I opened it to find the landing as black as pitch with smoke. I couldn’t see a damn thing, but I ran towards the shouting, crying out for Master Brown, telling him to flee. Then I ran straight into the chest of a red-jacketed man. The next thing I knew was pain as something connected with the back of my head and everything went black.

I awoke an undeterminable time later lying on a wooden floor. I could smell the scent of fish and salt, and quickly deduced I was aboard some type of boat. That totally confused me. Why rescue me from a fire to bring me aboard a ship? I didn’t ponder that for long, I was just about to get to my feet when the door opened and I spotted black shoes, clean stockings, and then a navy commodore’s uniform - Norrington.

“Welcome aboard, Mr Turner,” he said pleasantly enough, but something in his tone made me feel uneasy.

“Why am I here? Where’s Mr Brown? Does...”

“Please, please Mr Turner, so many questions all with one breath.” Norrington moved across the cabin to a small desk and opened it. He pulled out a bottle of whiskey and a couple of glasses, pouring the dark golden liquid into them both. “Here drink up, I’m sure you’re thirsty from the fire.” He had this small smirk on his lips that made me guess there was more to that fire than just an accident. “Don’t worry yourself about Mr Brown, a couple of day’s rest and he’ll be right as rain and back to drinking again.” He offered me the glass, but I hesitated. “Please do drink up, I’m sure you’ll feel better after it.” I took the glass and swigged the whiskey back, coughing a little as it burned my throat. I’m not a big drinker; sword making needs a firm hand.

“Yes, it will dull the pain,” Norrington added when I had finished.

“W-what?” My head snapped round with the sound of the door opening to reveal four rough looking men. They were unshaven, dirty and vicious looking almost like pirates...but surely not. Norrington would kill a pirate first and then ask questions. He despises the ground they walk on.

“This the boy, then?” the tallest and gruffest one asked.

“Yes, that will be him. Everything ready?”

The man smirked and stood aside. My eyes widened, and my breath caught in my throat. A large black man stood with a long looking poker in his hand, red hot - just from the fire - with a strange symbol attached to the end. A Brand.

I didn’t even have time to scream or fight. The men were upon me in a second, large hands ripping away my clothing, shoving me to the deck, and then came the burning hot pain in my thigh. I screamed until my voice broke, the smell of my own burnt flesh in my nostrils, and I brought up the whiskey, spilling it across the deck. Hands pulled me up again, and through the pain, I found my hands were bound, chains fitted to my ankles and lastly something heavy around my neck...a collar.

“So pretty,” the tall man remarked, staring down at me. I was on my knees, bound, and whimpering in agony.

“Remember our deal,” Norrington told the tall man, “Take him far from here, sell him to someone who will never grace Port Royal, understand?”

“Aye, I get ya. He’ll make a fair price on the slave block with such pretty skin that’s for sure.”

“I don’t care what you do with him, just as long as he never returns here. Now get out!”

“W-what? No! Stop!” I gasped, trying to fight off all of the slavers at the same time. “What did I ever do to you?!” I screamed finally, as I was half-dragged, half-carried out the door.

“Wait!” Norrington shouted, and two men held me up under my arms facing him. “I’ll answer that question, Master Turner. What have you done to me? How about we start off with that idiot pirate - you made me look a fool in front of my men. A fool before the Governor. Then there’s Elizabeth - she was promised to me!” Norrington thumbed his chest, eyes blazing as he stared at me. “But above all, Turner,” Norrington advanced towards me, his face just inches from mine, “above all, I don’t like to lose.” He hissed the last part, spittle covering my face.

We stared at each other for a long moment, and then one slaver flung me over his shoulder and I was carried away from the man who betrayed me.

~*~*~*~

So that’s how I ended up here. In a slaver’s vessel being carried to some unknown destination. I’m naked, cold, and unable to move due to my chains being attached to the deck. If this boat ever sinks I’ll... well, all of us poor souls - will be going down to Davy Jones’ Locker together. We are all damned.

Looking back at how Norrington was treated after Elizabeth spurred him; I should have really expected something. He was always a strong man, never showing weakness, and to be made to look a fool before all his men and superiors, it was not unexpected that he should lash out at someone. Shame that someone had to me. I’ll never regret what I did though. I love Elizabeth, and I had to save Jack. I couldn’t let him be hanged like some common pirate. Yes, he’s a pirate...but he’s different somehow. Bloody insane maybe. I don’t know but I couldn’t let him die. I think I would have died for him. Silly thoughts, I get them sometimes.

My thoughts are interrupted by the arrival of the tall slaver. Damned if I know any of their names. They don’t talk to us; we’re addressed as slave or it and never treated as a real person. Guess that’s why we don’t even get to know our captors. I’ve been watching them carefully, just waiting for the chance to escape. There’s no way I can do it here on ship, but maybe when we dock or at the market. Somehow. I can’t...won’t be sold as a slave. I’m a free man, and I’ll be damned if...

“Pretty, isn’t it?”

I look up startled, suddenly realising that I was being talked about. The tall slaver and two new men stand looking down at my dirty naked form, chains on my wrist and ankles, collar at my neck.

“Very,” one of the unknown men answers. He’s got a huge scar running down the left side of his face, disfiguring his mouth and eye.

“Fetch a small bundle...you think it might be?” The tall man suddenly seems to be excited about something. Not sure what it might be but... Abruptly, the man leans down and he’s right in my face. It’s a surprise because it’s like I suddenly exist to him. “You a virgin, slave?” he growls, one rough hand pulling at my hair.

I don’t answer; I just spit in the slaver’s face. It’s also hard talking with your head pulled back by the hair, and feeling like your neck’s going to break at any second. I really should have answered. Seconds later, I’m flipped onto my front, chains pulling at my arms and ankles, and I scream as a large finger is shoved inside my ass.

“Feels tight,” the tall slaver comments, “think he’ll pass as a virgin? He’s a little old, but honest looking.”

The scarred man grins, as the tall slaver steps back, finally releasing me. My face is burning with embarrassment and indignation. “He’ll pass. Tell the boys not to touch him, he’ll bring us a good price pure.” He bends down, and lifts my head up by the hair again. “Very pretty slave,” he laughs, “I’m sure in a few months after you’re sold, you’ll curse those good looks.” He laughs again, forcing his lips on mine for a harsh one-way kiss. I struggle even more, finally managing to fall backwards onto my back, hitting my head on the hard wooden floor. I yelp, making the men laugh at my antics. They laugh even more as I spit the taste of the scarred man from my lips, tasting the copper of blood on my lips. Bastard.

I’m left alone for the rest of the voyage. I don’t really mind, at least now I don’t have to fear any of the Slavers or crew. Some of them have looked me over, even tried to touch, but they are sent away by the tall man who watches me like a hawk. I pray to God that he doesn’t keep me. I shudder at the thought. It just doesn’t feel real to me. I can’t really be here, it’s just a bad dream, and then I pinch myself and I’m still here - chained and naked. I doubt the actual thought of being sold won’t be real until it happens, I just can’t imagine it. I’m scared of what I think will happen. I push the thoughts aside, and wait.

Jack’s POV:

Georgetown in the Cayman Islands is a bloody vile town, and filled with new arrivals from England trying to forge a new life in this Godforsaken land. Great place however, to check out the latest ships, defences, and to work out how I’m going to rob the next lot of immigrants. I chuckle to myself as I dock the Black Pearl. We’re disguised as a merchant vessel; crates filled with sand on the deck, and the Jolly Roger hidden below decks. This town is not for pirates, much like that blasted Port Royal; hang them on sight, they do.

“Don’t see why we’re ‘ere.” I turn to Mr Gibbs finally realising he’s been gibbering on for a while now. I just drown him out with me own thoughts. Mr Gibbs - great sailor but so bloody dour.

“Told ya, I‘m Captain and I decide where we go. Also we need to check out the prey. We need to see what those idiot merchants are doing to protect themselves.”

Mr Gibbs sighs, “Aye, Capt’n.”

“Arrange the men in pairs; get them around the latest ships. I want armaments, size, weight, and crew compliment, Savvy?”

“Aye, Captain Sparrow.”

Mr Gibbs stomps off, mumbling under his breath, nothing new there. I’ll bet it’s bad luck to visit other ships or something along those lines. Me, I’m going to do a little shopping - need a new hat...well, a new borrowed one.

Georgetown’s market is the biggest for miles around, and many island inhabitants come here to buy and sell one of the main commodities of the New World - slaves. Slavery isn’t unknown to me; I’ve sold out a couple of my mutinous crew along the years, shame I didn’t do that to Bardossa. The bastard. Pirates have used slavery to get rid of the despised competition...or buy food when times are bad.

Today, the market has a slaver who’s just arrived with his newly acquired wears. Pretty placid looking lot...apart from one. A boy with dark hair, thin body, creamy skin with a newly healing brand mark on his right hip. Gorgeously naked. No eunuch him. Wouldn’t mind getting a taste of that meself, make a good cabin boy when there’s no whore around. I watch as the slaver drags the chained boy onto the block, forcing his head up, naked and facing the crown.

“Fine young’un here,” the tall slaver shouts to the crowd, suddenly making a sneer, “virginal too.”

I lick my lips, yep; fine young cabin boy that. Hmmm, never had them virginal before. Done lots of girls, but not boys. There are jeers among the crowd as I near the block, trying to get a good luck at that creamy flesh. Pale, unmarked, soft. I edge nearer, looking over the boy’s features, taking in the long legs, flaccid penis, shapely hips, hollow stomach, strong rib cage, wide shoulders, long neck, little beard on the face - bum fluff really - and then the hazel eyes...oh shit.

“Will,” I mumble to myself. That be Will Turner standing naked, branded and collared on that slave block. Damn, the boy has good lines. Shit! He’s a friend, shouldn’t be looking at that. Is kinda nice, all that soft creamy skin...can’t get over that. Not in these waters, men are usually sun darkened like me. I guess the blacksmith spends too much time indoors. He looks like a bloody maid. Gonna fetch a fine price.

“What will we start the bidding at then - 10 Guineas for this fine boy?” The tall slaver starts the bidding.

“Half-crown!” A large sailor shouts out, making the crowd laugh.

And so it starts, and soon the boy’s price is up to 21 Guineas and a gold watch, which seems to be the last price. The tall slaver starts asking for more, begging the crowd, selling his wares.

“30 Guineas!” I shout. Stupid mouth going off without my head knowing. But I ain’t taking it back.

There’s silence as the slaver turns to me, a wide (eww filthy teeth) grin filling his ugly face. “30 Guineas it is! Anyone for 31! Fine boy, strong, (another sneer) virginal!” The crowd is silent. “Sold!”

Looks like I’ve just brought Will Turner for 30 Guineas. I make my way through the crowd to the block, and finally those hazel eyes turn to face me. He’s shocked at my presence, but a small smile graces his mouth. Thinks I’ve saved him, does he? I chuckle to myself, dragging out me hidden purse, nice and warm from being stowed away in my breeches. I pay the slaver, my eyes on the boy, his on me. A look of relief in those hazel orbs. Nice eyes - flash golden with anger when he’s fighting. I want to see that again.

Will’s POV:

Jack! Jack Sparrow is here. I can’t believe my good fortune. He has bought me too. As our eyes meet across the wooden stage, I can’t help but smile slightly. I know I’m safe now, I don’t have to fear for my life or try to escape. Jack gives a little chuckle as he pays for me, I suppose he finds my predicament a little amusing. I will pay him back, as soon as he returns me to Port Royal. I don’t have a lot of money, but for saving my life I’d pay him the whole lot.

The tall slaver turns from Jack and gives me a sly grin. I return it, unnerving him slightly. Ha, I’ll be no slave now. I’m a free man. The slaver grabs my wrist irons and drags me forwards towards Jack. He makes some derogatory comment about my virginity...again, but I don’t listen to their words. I’m free. Safe. Going home to Elizabeth.

The slaver passes a chain to Jack and he turns to me. “Kneel,” he commands. There is no recognition in his eyes, and his face is fixed in an angry glare at me. He’s a good actor. I drop to my knees without complaint, wanting to get away from this crowd and desiring clothing, to let Jack link the chain onto a ring on the collar around my neck. His lips twitch into a slight half-smile and he tugs at the chain.

“Come boy,” Jack growls and I get to my feet.

Jack bids the slaver farewell, taking a sheet of paper from him. I guess that’s my bill of sale. He turns and quickly marches away from the slave block and out of the crowd. I follow as fast as I can, considering I’m still chained wrist to wrist and foot to foot. When we reach a darkened alley, not far from the docks, I finally stop, forcing Jack to be yanked back by my chain.

“Oh gods Jack, you wouldn’t believe how I grateful I am to see you. I swear as soon as I get back to Port Royal I’ll pay you back every Guinea and then some.” My voice is light, and I start fiddling with my chains. “Err, Jack, the chains.” I hold out my manacled wrist, expecting him to unlock them.

Jack doesn’t say anything for a long time, just looks down at my naked form and the chained wrist offered before him. Then he smiles. I grin back, expecting to be set free any moment. Any moment now. Yes, any moment.

“Jack?” I plead. Why doesn’t he free me?

“You stopped boy,” Jack snarls, “without my permission.”

“What? Jack, what are you play--”

I don’t finish the sentence. Suddenly, my face flares with pain, and my left eye feels as though it’s going to explode. The backhand Jack delivers sends me reeling and I stumble backwards into wall, the chains at my feet tangle and I crash to the ground.

“It’s Captain to you, slave.” Jack yanks on my collar and I am sent flying into the dirt. My chin hits the ground with a smack, forcing my teeth to snap together and blood fills my mouth as I almost bite though my caught lip. I gag and spit out the blood, looking up uncertainly at Jack. Could he fear that someone is watching us? That he has to act the master? I bite my tongue from asking any more questions, and slowly get up to my knees, head bowed and eyes down. A form of submission.

“Get to yer feet and follow me, slave,” Jack snarls, yanking again on the leash. This time I’m ready and let the momentum bring me to my feet and I stubble after him. I’m confused, and a little scared, but I trust Jack...don’t I?

I’m covered in dirt, blood on my face, and chained as I board the Black Pearl. There’s hardly anyone around, only a couple of lookouts that I don’t recognise. They nod to Jack, then return to their duty. Jack drags me onward, across the deck, and then through two doors leading to the Captain’s quarters, and beyond that a private bedroom. The door hangs open, and I can see the linen sheeted bunk, messy and used. A shiver passes through me. If I had been sold to anyone else, that bed would be where my new master or mistress would have ravaged me. I know that I was sold more on the basis that I was good for bedding, more than working, but now I don’t have to fear that.

“Jack, thank you for saving me. I guess you can free me now, we’re alone.” I hold out my hands again, but Jack doesn’t reply. He lets go of my leash, and walks over to a cabinet on the sidewall. He grabs a bottle of rum, and then crosses back to me. He drags out a large winged back chair with padded arms, and drops himself in it. He takes a long swig of rum, letting his eyes wonder across my naked form. I shudder. “Jack?”

“Kneel boy; don’t ya know it’s disrespectful for a slave to stand taller than his master?”

“Jack, you’re not my master. Now let me go and I’ll pay you back your money as soon as I get back to Port Royal. I--” I gasp as another sharp yank on my chain makes me choke and stumble. I drop to my knees, trying to stop myself from falling down face first again. “Jac--” Another backhand, making me spit blood. I quickly shut up.

“It’s Captain, Will. You will address me as *Captain*.”

“Captain.” I whisper, making sure he knows I’ve heard.

“Good.” Jack leans back in his chair again, taking another swig of rum, and staring down at me. I try and shift, my hands going to my lap and covering my nakedness. His eyes are making me uncomfortable, feeling more naked that I have since I was first branded.

“Now understand this, Will. I have brought you. Paid good gold for yer, and by this little piece of paper,” he waves the bill of sale in the air, “yer mine. Yer a slave, and I own ya, Savvy?”

I swallow hard. I don’t understand what’s happening. He knows me. I fought at his side. I saved him from being hanged. “Y-yes, Captain,” I reply slowly. Is this a game? Making me thank him with more gold for saving me? Making me beg to be set free? I don’t understand.

“Did you marry the pretty Miss Swann, Will?” Jack asks suddenly, his eyes boring into mine. I hate those eyes at this instant. So dark. Shadowed. Piercing. The black kohl making them shine inky black. He raises an eyebrow, and for the first time I notice a tiny scar marring the arched shape.

“Not yet...no, Jac-Captain,” I stutter. What is he playing at?

“True what they said then?” Jack laughs, gulping back more rum.

“I’ve had many girls!” I shout back.

Jack laughs even more, knowing I lie. I might be orphaned, but I was raised a gentleman. I was in love with Elizabeth ever since I was dragged from the ocean, and saw her face for the first time. She was the only woman I’ve ever desired. Jack doesn’t believe my words and tugs again on the chain. “Don’t lie to me, Will.” His voice is soft, but something in his tone makes me shiver.

“I-I won’t, Captain.” I have to break eye contact, my eyes falling to the floor. I don’t know how to deal with this situation. I don’t understand what Jack is doing. I’ll beg if he wants. Beg to be returned home. “Please, Captain, please let me go.” I shudder at the way my voice sounds so sickly submissive.

Jack chuckles. “Enough with the begging, Will. Sure as hell doesn’t suit ya.” He looks over me again, making my cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Now tell me, Will. How did yer end up on that slaver’s block?”

I answer his question. I tell him about the fire, Norrington, the branding, even about the scarred man and how he touched me. For a long time after, Jack’s very silent, taking a few gulps of rum now and then, eyes returning to my form, looking me over and over, and then looking away. It’s like he’s planning, considering...

“Now Will, I’m going to get the cook heating some hot water for a bath. You are to clean yourself, and then wait for me here, Savvy?”

That’s it!! No `sorry this happened to you, I’m letting you free!’ No long laugh at my downfall `I’m letting you free.’ No bloody ‘I’M LETTING YOU FREE!’ My mouth falls open, and I stare up at him. His eyes darken with the fading light until I can’t see the whites any longer. Only the hard face, the sharp lines of his cheekbones, the strange twin-plaited beard. I watch as dirty nailed fingers reach up to his moustache twisting up the ends, and he gives me a wicked grin. Has something happened to him after he escaped Port Royal? Did I offend him? Is he cursed like Barbossa?

“Will, you will answer when I ask.”

“Yes, I understand. I take a bath and wait for you here.”

Jack gets to his feet, and then only after I drop my eyes from his, does he unlock the manacles at my wrists. I wait a moment, expecting the collar and leg irons to be removed, but Jack steps back, picks up his bottle of rum and quickly exits the room.

Jack’s POV:

I had to escape him, I did. Such creamy white skin. Soft lips. Frightened eyes. His body - slick with a fine sheen of sweat covering his form. He was scared, uncertain, I could smell him. What is this curse he’s cast upon me? He saved me once, but the very depths of my soul scream out to keep him. I own him - got the bill to prove it. He’s mine.

I’ve been to cook and arranged hot water to be taken to my cabin, and now I take a stroll across the deck and sip my rum again. My lips feel dry, wanting, needing to kiss his. To take his. To make him mine.

I shudder. I’ve never felt this way before. Not for any living being. Only the Black Pearl. I run my hand along her wooden rung - I can feel her alive beneath my skin. She is my freedom. I know she’s a ship, but she gives me life - it’s the only life I’ve ever known. I run my hand across the hard wood, knowing she protects me. This ship is mine, and I got her through blood and sweat. I let go of the Pearl and touch my right thigh, and beneath the wool and linen I can just feel the raised skin. You see I was sold out too. Sold to this ship’s Captain when I was but a boy, and I fought with everything I had to make the Pearl mine. That’s why the Black Pearl is my freedom. Why I won’t ever let her go.

A flash of memory burns in my mind. The slaver’s block. A young black haired boy. The pirate who buys him...brands him with fire and cock. The pirate that makes him cabin boy aboard the Black Pearl. I push the memories into the past - back where they belong and should never return.

Now what to do about me little Will? He’s mine. Like the Pearl is mine. I killed and sweated blood for this ship. I won’t let her go. I can’t let Will go. He’s mine. Belongs to me. Never owned nothing but the Pearl. Not gonna let him go, not going to lose Will like I nearly lost her. Oh no. Captain Jack Sparrow doesn’t go around losing things. He never lets them go. Unless it be me marbles of course, but they don’t matter. The truth is so simple. The Pearl is mine. Will is mine. He stays here with the Pearl and me. See - Simple.

I take another swig of rum and start to sing; -

//Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate’s life for me.//

Will’s POV:

It’s not long before the Cook arrives with a couple of buckets of lukewarm water. He fills an old tin bath in the inner cabin and then leaves. I move from my hiding place and cautiously approach the bath. I hid from the cook, hiding my nakedness from him. Jack’s made me uneasy, untrusting. I fear others will use me...or... I don’t know. What do men and men do? My cheek burns with blushing and I quickly force my mind back to the bath. I decide to use the water, and clean myself of the slave ship and the dirt from being knocked around in the dirt by Jack. I still can’t believe he hit me...but then again, there’re so many things I don’t know about Jack Sparrow. He helped me save Elizabeth, but I don’t think that was to actually *help* me. He wanted the Pearl back, nothing more. So what am I? Can I trust him? Will he help me get home?

I wash quickly, though it’s a little difficult with the leg irons and the heavy metal collar, but I manage to get rid of the past few day’s dirt, leaving it as scum on the bath tub. I find a couple of ragged towels in the cabinet next to Jack’s desk, and dry myself off. Through my searching I’ve also discovered a pair of old trousers, now if I can just get my leg out of the irons, I could get them on.

I don’t...I think...I sigh. I think I really do need to escape the Black Pearl. It’s confusing, a part of me still trusts Jack. Still likes him in some strange and silly way. But he *is* a pirate and I’m thinking that I might return quicker to Port Royal on my own. I start to search the drawers of Jack’s desk and come across a long flint. Just what I need. I’ve been a blacksmith for a long time; I started my training when I was eleven. During that time, I’ve made irons such as these, and sometimes you don’t have the key right, so I learned how to pick locks. Which is really simple on these old things. After a lot of struggling I manage to free one leg, and leave the other to quickly cloth myself in the old trousers.

Suddenly, I hear a creak of wood and a door opens. Shit! That must be Jack coming into the outer cabin. I fasten the trousers, and make for a couple of windows on the opposite wall. It’s going to be a long drop, but at least I’ll be free. On the spur of the moment decision, I decide to run. I climb onto the wide windowsill and jump into the dark waters below.

“Willllll!”

I plunge into the cold waters; I guess taking a bath was pretty silly when I was going to do this. Cost me a lot of time. Though at that time, I didn’t know what I was going to do. A part of me still wants to climb aboard the Pearl and beg Jack to take me home. That part that still thinks he’ll listen. Now, however, I’ve made my decision to flee - no matter how ill considered - and I must stick by it. So with the heavy leg irons dragging me back, I put all my strength into swimming to shore.

Jack’s POV:

“Willlll!”

NO! He can’t escape me! I won’t let him! He’s mine.

I howl out into the darkness, watching as Will swims away from me, his silvery skin glowing in the moonlight. No! He is mine! I brought him. Gonna protect him too. Though the boy will have to learn that he is to obey me. Can’t have him running off. Oh no.

I run out of my cabin, and onto the deck. “Man overboard!” I yell to the two watchmen. There is a scurry of movement, and one of them dives into the water with a rope attached to the ship. Good crew - don’t ask questions and they obey me like they should. They don’t even wonder why they have to rescue someone while we’re in dock. I turn back to the cabin, going through to my bedroom, and stand before a large chest. I unlock it and pull out Will’s punishment. No one can get away with deserting ship without punishment. Not one of my crew, and certainly not my slave. I don’t want to do this but I have to. I have to make him see that running away will not be accepted.

I sigh, dropping to my knees before the wooden box, holding the device to my chest.

Maybe I should let him go...but he’s mine... Captain Jack Sparrow doesn’t let what’s his slip through his fingers. Oh no, I don’t. I lean my forehead against the chest lid. I have to be strong. I have to do this. Got to make sure Will knows his place. Got to.

Bloody hell, I need a drink.

“Capt’n sir, we have ‘im.”

I get to my feet, take a deep breath, and answer. “I’m comin’, tie the prisoner to the mast.”

I straighten my hat, and walk out on deck. My two watchmen are tying the white body of Will around the forward mast. He’s shivering. I catch a glimpse of blue fingers. I have to save Will from himself. He could have died out there. He’s mine. Not even death can have him.

“Prisoner tied, Capt’n.” The watchmen stand back, and I approach my escaped slave.

“Jack! What the hell are you doing? Let me go! Please, just let me go home!” Will cries, struggling with his bonds. He’s tied funny. He’s on his knees, the mast between them, and one rope goes around his waist holding him close, and both arms are tied around the circumference. He won’t be moving.

“Yer part of this crew now, Will,” I tell him, my voice low. I approach behind him, not letting him see what I have in store. “Yer belong to me. Yer have to learn discipline. I canna have ya running off again.”

“Jack, please!” Will begs, struggling in his bonds.

I’m sorry, lad. It’s the only way.

I unfurl the cat of nine tails, taking the solid leather handle in my hand just so and then let loose. The rope tied ends of all nine lengths fly through the air towards Will’s pale back. With the moment of impact, he lets out a high-pitched scream of pain, which is mainly from surprise. With another flick of my wrist, the cat rears back and then I fling it forwards again onto that pale, pure skin. Oh, it hurts to see it redden, darken, and then the skin splits and red blood is spilt onto the decks. Again and again I swing, tears burning my eyes as I do. Will is screaming, begging me to stop, my name mixed in with the sounds of his pain. I cannot stop. He needs to be punished. He needs to learn his place.

Finally, after the tenth lash, I still my hand, the cat dropping to the deck. There’s blood on Will’s back, dark and dripping. Dripping down onto the Pearl herself. She’ll know his taste now, just as she knew mine when my Captain did this to me. The lad will be bound to her now, just as I am.

“Please, captain...please no more.”

Will sobs his words out. Captain has replaced ‘Jack’. My boy is learning.

Now, just one more thing to sort out, and then he’ll have learned his lesson.

“Pernin, bring me a hot iron,” I command one of the watchmen. For a second, they don’t move, startled by what just happened, but Pernin quickly gathers his wits and runs to the hold.

“Will, my pretty,” I whisper, bending down to Will’s ear. He’s panting, tears dirtying his face. “I canna have yer running lad. You are mine. Remember that and I promise, this will *never* happen again.”

“Please, let me go home...” he sobs, his head crushed to the mast, so I can’t really see into his eyes.

“You are home, Will. Yer spilled blood on the Pearl, you belong with her...us now.”

“Oh god!” Will cries, his voice breaking. I know it hurts. Knowing that the Pearl has claimed you forever. He belongs here with her and me, till death and beyond.

“Now petal, I’m just gonna deal with that little mark on yer thigh.”

Will bellows as I bend down and rip the trousers from his form and his right scarred thigh is revealed to me. There is the slaver’s mark. It has two straight horizontal lines, and a sideways figure 8. Mmmm. I’m sure I can do something better than that.

To my pride, Pernin arrives with the hot iron, one with a pointed tip, and carefully hands it over to me. Now, it’s time I try my hand at some art.

Will howls from the pain of the hot iron touching his pale skin. It’s necessary however, and I grit my teeth. I can’t have him marked with another man’s brand. One day, the lad will understand why I have to do this. I slash at his thigh. A line here. An arrow there. A wriggly line...and perfect. Now a bird graces my pets’ thigh. A Sparrow. Wings outstretched, little pointed tail, head...oh the legs. There you go. My mark. Just the same as mine. Will passed out with the pain. He’ll understand when he wakes up and sees what had to be done.

“Pernin, take him below to my cabin.” The crewman runs forward and quickly unties my slave. He glances at me nervously, hands trembling. Within seconds, Will’s free of the mast and his bloodied form is lifted into Pernin’s arms. The large crewman carries my pet deep into the ship, to my rooms, and lays him gently upon my bed. I bid him goodnight and the crewman leaves. See? Perfect obedience.

I turn Will onto his front, and tear off the ruined remains of his trousers. His back is black and blue from his beating, and the brand on his thigh inflamed. Not to worry, Captain Jack Sparrow has the answer. I open a new bottle of rum and poor it over his back.

“ARGHHHH!” Will screams, the shock of the alcohol on his wounds instantly bringing him round.

“Shhh, pet. The rum will clean yer back.” I splash more onto his broken skin, moving down his spine until I reach his buttocks. Round and juicy they are. Perfect. I continue on and pour more alcohol onto the brand. It burns, and Will yells even more. Finishing that, I pick up a cloth and clean his wounds. Will has already passed out once again, the pain too much to bear. It was necessary though. He had to learn not to run. The brand had to be replaced...I couldn’t bear to see the mark of another man upon him.

I clean him up, remove the last of the slaver’s hateful chain and despicable collar, and then let him sleep. I’ll buy him a nice new collar in the future - a present when he’s behaved. After I strip off my own clothing, I climb into the double-sized bunk, carefully resting beside Will and I put my hand upon his unmarked butt. I close my eyes and let sleep take me, safe and whole now. I have the Pearl and Will, nothing more matters.

Will’s POV:

I awake in pain. My whole back and thigh burn like hellfire. The memories of yesterday slowly return to my pain fogged brain, and I remember Jack whipping me for trying to escape. Tears burn my eyes but I refuse to let them fall. I’m not a slave. I’m a free man. He can’t keep me here.

Very slowly, I try and crawl out of the bunk, but suddenly come face to face with two burning, black-coloured eyes.

“Whatcha’ doing luv?” Jack purrs, his hand running from my butt down my leg. I shiver at the intimate touch, trying to back into the wall behind me.

“Don’t touch me,” I growl.

“Now luv, no need to be gettin’ all huffy. Ya tried to run, and that’s a punishable offence with pirates...and with slaves.” He smiles, his hand becoming firmer on my skin.

“I’m not yours,” I whisper. My body begins to tremble at his touch, if he can whip me - what more can he do?

“Yes, ya are, Will. Mine.” His voice is slightly rough with either passion or anger, I can’t tell anymore. I only know that I fear this man. “Now, we should really begin your trainin‘.”

“Training?” I squeak.

“Aye, all slaves need training,” Jack leers, and his dark, dirt coloured hand makes its way back up my leg to my waist. His skin is so dark against mine. “First, let’s see how aroused yer are?”

“W-what?”

I try to pull away but the rough hands slide over my waist and grab my semi-hard cock. I’m a growing boy and morning erections are *still* on the menu. I yelp like a girl as he gives me a squeeze. I’m about to shove him off, but he looks up at me with such...such power in those eyes that I freeze. “Didn’t give yer permission to touch, luv,” he growls.

With a sore back, I lean against the wall on my side of the cot, with legs open and Jack jerking me off. I moan as the pleasure of his rough strokes arouse even though I don’t desire his touch. I don’t look up into his eyes a second time, I keep my head down, eyes on his hands. Oh, his hands. My eyes finally fall closed with denied pleasure, and suddenly something is wrapped around my length. I cry out, eyes wide and with utter shock I stare down at Jack wrapping a leather strap around the base of my cock. The pain of denied orgasm burns through me, growing worse as he ties it around my balls as well.

“Bugger!” I yell, my head falling back and banging against the outer wooden wall.

“First lesson, I want you hard. Second, you never come until I let you.”

The words make me shiver uncontrollably, and as his hands leave me I bring my legs to my chest and wrap my arms around them. My lower regions ache and my back burns from the lashing. My hip is one raw patch of pain, and I’m in bloody misery!

Jack says nothing as he rolls off the bed and starts to dress. I won’t look at his lithe naked body. Or the scars. Or the tattoos. Okay, I had a quick look. He’s got a fine build, thin but perfectly well proportioned, strong muscle lines, and with an amazing bone structure. It’s the first time I’ve ever looked at a naked man...he’s kinda nice to look at. With immense confusion I push those thoughts aside and consider my situation.

However, my concentration is broken when Jack speaks, “Will, on yer front so I can look at ya back.”

Strangely I act on his command. The fear of the lashing last night seems to have gotten rid of that disobedient streak in me for the moment and I lie down on my front. He had better not think about resting easy because as soon as I can I’ll find a way off this ship without him capturing me again, and then I’m gone.

“There’ not so bad,” Jack comments as he runs a hand down my back. I groan in pain as he irritates the fleshly scabbed cuts and bruises. “Reckon those will heal without scarring. Just remember lad, I went easy on yer last night. I won’t be doing it again.”

I shudder at those words. Easy!? It feels like my whole back and buttocks have been scoured.

“Now stay ‘ere. I’ll be back with breakfast and you’ll learn some more.”

I don’t look around until Jack has gone out through the outer door. I shake of the feeling of anger and confusion. I have to find a way to escape. How to escape is the question? The crew will be back aboard now so jumping ship is out the question, someone will spot me and I refuse to be whipped again. Then there’s this damn tie around my blasted privates. I try to re-adjust my erect cock but touching only makes it hurt more. I could take it off...but would that lead to a lashing too? Damn it! Tears of confusion and frustration burn my eyes and I angrily brush them away.

What in heaven’s name am I going to do next?

Jack’s POV:

I have to get out of the cabin. Couldn’t stay a second longer with the lad. Especially naked, bound and with lovely confusion showing in his eyes and voice. Damn, wanted to touch him then. Hold him. Ohhhh, fuck him. I shiver and push the thought back. I have to get the ship underway; I need to be at sea while I teach Will his new job. A pirate’s life isn’t all treasure and adventure. Hell, most of the time it’s pretty damn boring. Months at sea spent waiting, watching, and waiting some more. Then suddenly, a merchant ship is spotted and then it’s all action and death. After that it’s either sink to the bottom of Davy Jones’s locker or wait some more. This time however, the waiting is gonna be very good, and as I make the ship ready to sail I’ve only one thought on my mind.

Pretty boy in my cabin waiting for me - what a thought!

Right back to work. Got to get the Pearl ready to sail and then we can have fun. I have plans for me little Will. Lots of plans. Always good with plans me...though mostly they get bodged up by silly buggers doing their own things, but this time Jack Sparrow is not going to be denied.

The crew, best I’ve ever had, make the Pearl ready to sail in less than an hour and we finally pull away from dock and glide across the shimmering sea towards the vast openness of the ocean beyond the islands. Out into freedom. I hand the wheel over to Anamaria, but before I leave for my cabin, I give the wheel one last pat.

“Don’t worry me lovely,” I tell the Pearl, “I’ll make sure pretty Will won’t be leaving us ever again.”

The Pearl answers back happily, her sails blowing in the wind and she cuts through the waters going further out into the wide blue yonder. She wants to keep the lad too. She owns him like I do. Blood and sweat, both his and mine, grease this ship and we’ll always be tied to her.

Finally, I leave her in good hands, and go back to my cabin, making one quick stop for a plate of bread and cheese before I greet my pet with breakfast and rules.

Will’s POV:


“I suggest you don’t do that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“N-no,” I stammer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I groan, shifting my body trying to get Jack to stop. The movement doesn’t help. My chest rubs against his shirt, the rough material making sweet contact with my nipples. I’ve never thought male nipples could react like that. My hard cock, currently trapped between my stomach and his hips experiences delightful friction as I shift and move, so I instantly stop. I make my second mistake then, I gasp, and Jack’s tongue slips into my mouth.

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

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

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

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

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

“PLEASE! CAPTAIN!”

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

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

Jack’s POV:

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

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

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

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

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

~*~*~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good evening, luv. Enjoy yer sleep?”

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

“Aye, ya near slept the day away.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jack,” another cry.

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

“Please!”

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

I look at him; eyes wide, sparkling with unshed tears as they stare at me. He has such pretty eyes. Hazel with specks of green. I don’t want him to look at me like this. I don’t want to see the hurt and betrayal in his eyes. I want him to be mine. I want his innocence to last forever. I don’t want him hurt and jaded as I am.

“Will,” I beg, my words nothing but a whisper. I hold out my hand, beckoning him back. “I swear I’ll not hurt you. Never me, Will.”

The look on his face is confused. He doesn’t know what’s happened here. I never want him to know. To know what I was. What I did to survive.

He comes slowly, one finely boned foot in front of the other. He stops before me, wanting to say something but he doesn’t. I know he must be hungry still, slavers don’t feed their stock well.

“You’ll be hungry,” I murmur, rubbing my hand against his cheek. He’s frozen against my hand, nothing like he was when only half-awake. I wish he would relax against my hand - my touch. He doesn’t. So I snap. “Kneel!” Baring my teeth, I snarl, “else you’ll starve!”

Will’s eyes widen, a flash of confusion brightening his hazel eyes before they narrow. For a second, I wonder. Will he fight me? Disobey me? Then it changes. Something passes through Will’s eyes (understanding maybe?) and he drops to the ground beside the head chair. Not what I expected. Another argument. A fight. But not his obedience. Lad thinks he’ll confuse me, does he.

I sit down and stare at the food laid out. The ship’s cook has done a fine job with the pork, vegetables and even fresh bread. A couple of weeks at sea and it will be dried meat and biscuits. I load up my plate, ever mindful of Will watching with wide eyes from the floor beside me. His mouth must be watering as I take a bite of the succulent pork, ripping away crispy skin and meat. I wipe the juices away with my fingers, and after a moments thought, offer them to Will. He stares at my dripping fingers with the greasy juice covering them.

Will he take it? Suck them into that divine mouth.

“Hungry?” I purr, a shiver passing through me with the anticipation. “Take them and there will be more.”

He hesitates, hungry eyes flicking from my fingers to the large leg of pork in my hand. He licks his lips, that rough, almost cat-like pink tongue flicking out. Food suddenly disappears from my thoughts and is completely replaced by desire. Desire to taste Will. He licks those luscious lips again...and takes one of my fingers into his mouth.

A whined moan passes through my lips as my fingers disappear into his hot mouth. Strong white teeth scrap against the skin, and then he starts to suck and lap off the juices. My body feels hot and sweat starts to form. I sit straight up, my cock rising, beginning to ache as he takes a second finger into his mouth. Two fingers stretch his reddening lips and he sucks with hungry need. My back arches, and another moan passes through my clenched teeth as my fingers are released and another two are sucked clean. I pull away, unable to hold back and adjust myself. Littl’ Jack is wanting to play, but he was to wait until dessert. Dessert o’ Will.

I rip a piece of flesh from the leg of pork and offer it to Will. I hold it tight between two fingers and he opens his mouth to take it. My fingers stretch his lips wide, dropping the meat onto this tongue. He gives my fingers a quick suck before I withdraw them. He chews slowly on the meat, making me swallow and stare at his face and then his throat as he swallows. The Adam's apple ripples as he swallows bringing my attention to his swan-like neck. I groan and repeat the action. Tearing of a small piece of meat and offering it to Will. He eats slowly again and I stare. My mouth is slavering and I want a taste. Dropping the meat to the table, I pick up a carrot this time taking a small bite. I lean down and offer the carrot caught between my teeth to Will. He swallows hard, his eyes fixed on my mouth. A blush darkening his cheeks.

Take it! My mind screams. I want to beg him. Want to taste him. He moves, cocking his head and covering my mouth with his. I feel his tongue flick against my teeth asking for the carrot offering. I let it go, following it into his mouth. He groans as our tongues play with the small morsel between them.

“Bed,” I groan as our lips part.

That word breaks the moment and Will stares at me with suddenly frightened eyes. I don’t move. Don’t say a word. I want that moment back.

“Hungry,” he says, “Please, Captain.” His stomach gurgles softly, and the tense moment is broken. I break off more meat and offer it to Will. He sucks my fingers again, and the desire starts to mount as our flesh touches. Our eating is filled with desperate sucks. Long licks. Passion burns the air. I don’t say another word, not wanting to break these blissful moments. Will is hungry and while he’s giving me this intense display, making my insides burn with wanting to take him, I will hold back until he is ready to return my desire. Aye, that will be another joyful lesson.

Will’s POV:

Dinner was...interesting. Jack fed me with his fingers and mouth, offering me meat, juices and vegetables. For a moment during the meal, he mentioned the bed and my heart and body froze. Then the moment was gone and Jack continued to eat watching me with burning eyes as I took the food from his fingers. I was terrified at the mention of `bed’. Frightened by the desperate look in Jack’s eyes. I said I was hungry, the desperation left his eyes a little and he went back to feeding me.

I don’t know whether to be disgusted or shocked by how he fed me. I was far too hungry to argue though. The only real meals I’ve had over the last couple of weeks are today’s cheese and biscuits and finally this fine feast. If I have any hope of escaping I need to keep my strength up.

One thing did surprise me. It was kind of worrisome in a way, for while I sucked on Jack’s fingers I could feel my stomach tightening, my groin starting to ache and my bound cock whispering disgusting things to me. I wondered...no, wanted to feel what it would be like to have someone sucking something other than my fingers. Or even I could be sucking something other than fingers. The strange situation must have affected me in ways I don’t understand. I quickly push those thoughts away, trying instead to think of Elizabeth’s sweet smile. The swell of her breasts. The colour of her pale skin with rosebud nipples. I wonder if Jack is pale or if his nipples are rosy or brown.

By all that his holy! I shove the thought aside. I don’t want to think of Jack naked. I saw him naked this morning, a sight I never want to repeat, though, I really should have taken note of his nipples then.

Finally, the torture of dinner is over. I’m full, satisfied but from the look of Jack, he isn’t. He stares at me all the time. My lips, my throat, even my eyes. Why? What can he see in me? Surely, a pretty woman would be better to stare at than me. My mind suddenly flashes back to this morning. The kissing. The whole disturbing feeling of Jack’s tongue in my mouth. The feel of his male - against god and law - body against mine. His weight pressing down onto my groin. Making me beg.

Shame fills me. I begged for him to touch me. Begged!

“Will, stop with yer brooding, lad. Anyone would think ya’ve got a pole stuck up yer ass.” Jack lets out a loud laugh, and suckles down half a bottle of rum in one gulp.

I glare at him. “Jac-” I don’t finish my sentence, a greasy hand covers my mouth and Jack’s dark eyes stare into mine.

“Remember, me fine, Will. Yer address yer owner proper like.” He waits and I sigh finally answering; “Captain.”

“Now that’s pretty good. Like Captain. That’s another lesson for ya - never forget whose yer owner, lad. Address me as Jack and you will get one lashing with me belt, savvy?”

My eyes widen and my mouth drops. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Jack’s eyes narrow and he slowly grins. “Want to bet on that, Luv?”

“I won’t let you,” I snarl back. I think I should have kept my mouth shut.

Before I know what’s happening, Jack grabs me by the hair and slams me down front first into the table. Left over food is scattered all over the floor as I struggle. One solid hand holds me down between my shoulder blades, while his body presses against my buttocks. I’m trapped between him and the table. I hear him struggling with something, I only realise it is his belt when the soft leather is laid across my back.

“Will Luv, I hate doing this. I own you and you seem to forget that. That will be two lashings.”

My fingers dig into the hard wood and I close my eyes. I don’t want to belong to him. I don’t want to be here. Yet, this is not a nightmare. This is real. He owns me and has the receipt to prove it. I’m stuck on the Black Pearl until we land somewhere. And worst of all, sometimes Jack scares me. Sometimes, he isn’t the Jack I know anymore. He becomes this unknown Pirate figure who makes me more nervous than Barbossa did. He gets this look in his eye as if he isn’t really in the moment, but stuck in the past.

I don’t say another word. I bite my tongue and seconds later the thick leather impacts against my already sore back. I let out a sob. The pain burns making me squirm against the wooden tabletop. Another blow falls lower this time across my buttocks and I yelp softly. The feel of his weight against me is suddenly gone and I slip down back to the floor.

“I’m sorry, petal,” Jack purrs crouching beside me. “Remember what I’m teaching you, Will and this will not happen again, savvy?”

I nod and realise it’s not enough, “Yes, Captain,” I manage to spit out.

A long finger tucks under my chin and lifts my head. I gaze into his eyes. To my shock they are no longer hard and angry. The aren’t lost in the past or cold looking. They are warm, liquid brown, sparkling in the candlelight. Sorrow flashes deep within them and strangely enough I know that Jack is sorry for having to beat me. I realise something, remembering when he lashed me to the mast and flogged me with the cat-of-nine-tails. He had that same look in his eyes. The kind of look that says he’s doing this not for himself but for my own good. I don’t know why but my anger towards him is forgotten for a moment. Jack leans forward and brushes his lips against mine. I gasp, startled at the lightening shock of his lips against mine. He presses them to my mouth again, but this time I open up for him. My eyes close as his hot tongue flicks between my teeth. He kisses me. Jack is kissing me, and I realise how good he does kiss. I lose myself into his mouth. My tongue touching his. His tongue searching my mouth for some elusive taste. Strong, long fingers card into my hair, entangling between the strands, grabbing handfuls and dragging me forward. More hot kisses. More tongue. More lips. More blinding passion.

When air becomes an issue, Jack breaks away from my lips, panting in loud breaths. I gasp for air, my eyes squeezed shut. I can’t believe I just did that! I kissed him and no matter what I might say later, I enjoyed it.

“It’s getting late, darlin’,” Jack whispers into my mouth, giving me one last kiss before he moves away.

My eyes flick open in a panic. It’s night. There’s only one bed. I’m naked! Bloody Hell!

“Remember you’re mine, Will,” Jack reminds me gently. The anger has left his voice, making him sound almost...almost alluring. His voice is lyrical. Appealing. Not keen on the accent, but it lessens when he speaks softly to me. Yer become you. Luv becomes Will.

Jack takes hold of my arm, helping me to my feet and leading me towards the inner cabin and the bed waiting for us. I don’t want to go in, but how can I stop this? How can I fight Jack off?

“J-Captain, please,” I whisper as we enter the small bedroom. Jack lets go of my arm and lifts his hands to start work on the buttons of his shirt. I swallow hard.

“I know yer afraid, me Will. I’ll be gentle for ya, promise.” I want to run, but my thoughts are stopped, as Jack leans forward and presses his lips to my forehead. “Sit down,” he whispers. His hands leads me to the bed, helping me to sit, and then he lifts up my legs. I slide upwards towards the top of the bunk, and bring my knees to my chest wrapping my arms around them. Jack’s hand touches my face and then he turns back to undressing.

I’m confused. Jack can change temperaments extremely quickly. When he took my arm before, he led me gently out of the bedroom and then something changed him in, a memory maybe and this distance look appeared on his face. He griped my arm so tightly it’s bruised with tiny circlets of blood where his nails dug in. I didn’t say anything then, the look on his face stopped me. I know he was remembering something. What I haven’t a clue, but it was painful.

Jack is my Captain, my owner, and the biggest enigma I’ve ever come across. The puzzle I can’t understand. The man that confuses my own inner feelings. The man whose kisses I like. The man who makes me forget my Elizabeth. I know I should be thinking of her. Worrying about her, but truthfully...I haven’t thought of her much. Only Jack and the questions he causes me to ask.

Jack undresses quickly but methodically. Surprising really with the state his clothing is in. Dirty, old, ripped and repaired, but he takes them off carefully and folds them onto the table. Another surprising fact about Jack, he’s so tidy! I try to not look at his naked body. I don’t want to see any other male body but my own. It’s wrong, and being raised by a good woman, brought up to be a gentleman, I won’t-can’t give into this temptation. I can say though that Jack as surprisingly brown knobbly nipples. The kind of nipples that if they were on a woman you’d wonder what they felt like against your tongue.

STOP!

I drag my thoughts away and close my eyes. I can’t do this. I can’t think of him like that. I have to fight this. I have to escape and find my way back to Elizabeth.

“Will,” the whispered sound of my name makes me gasp and look up. Jack’s face is inches from mine. I can feel his breath against my mouth. His eyes gazing into mine. My lips fall open and a hot mouth presses against them. I want to sob. To scream. To fight. But at this moment - I can only kiss.

Hot kisses. Burning lips against my own desperate ones. Salvia mixed as our tongues fight, slide and entangle with each other. Kisses that leave me gasping for breath before more burning kisses. My arms break the hold around my legs and slide up his smooth arms. Jack is a lot like me in build. Sleek, lithe but strong too. Muscles tense as I stroke his biceps, before wrapping my fingers around them, holding tight, as his kisses become more intense. To my shame...or is it disappointment that when Jack breaks away from my mouth - I moan for more.

“Another new lesson, Will, I like touching.”

I should be shocked at his words. I should stop him. I should be doing anything but listen to him. Yet, I cannot. He mentions touching and my body burns. My loins ache and I need something. Something I’ve only felt when I give myself pleasure with my right hand. No...It’s something more than that. It’s something unknown to me, but desperately desired.

Jack answers my moan of desire by guiding me down onto the bed. I slip down the sheets, ending on my back for the second time this day. My legs are spread with Jack kneeling between them. I only glance down a second but my eyes are burned with the sight. My hard, bound cock pressing to my stomach, and matching it is Jack’s. It’s golden in colour much like all of his skin. Sun darkened. It’s longer than mine, but maybe not as thick. I’m shocked that I noticed all that in one glance.

I feel uncomfortable on my back with legs parted. I feel open. Available. Desperate. As if I’m offering more. I shudder and close my eyes. Jack must have seen something in my face, or felt me tense because he’s kissing me again and whispering in-between.

“Shh, my pretty Will. Shhh. Tonight is for touching only, my sweet.”

I relax a little with the comforting sound of his voice. His lyrical voice whispering passionate nothings into my ear. Does he speak to his women like this?. Kissing them and calming them with gentle words. I don’t think I like that thought. That he would do the same to someone else in his bed.

“Shhh, relax me precious.”

I sigh, close my eyes and let Jack kiss me some more. I might have to take back my observations from the first time Jack kissed me. Wrong or right. Evil or not. I think I like Jack’s kisses. I’m disappointed when Jack finally breaks away from my mouth and latches onto the firm lump of my Adam’s apple and sucks. That thought quickly changes, Jack sucking on my skin is rather...nice. Without the kissing, I can also concentrate on what Jack’s hands are doing. He strokes my shoulders with long movements, enough pressure to feel but not enough to bruise. Strokes that start from shoulder to chest to navel. Then change direction - shoulders to elbow to hand, stroking my fingers, and then moving the opposite direction. The strokes are distracting. No, more than that. They are frustrating. I’m beginning to want more. More touching. More strokes. Harder strokes. I want him to hold my hands. To squeeze. He doesn’t - he just strokes me. I arch up off the bed, his mouth moving down to suck on my collarbones. Thoughts are becoming difficult to decipher. I want more touching...but at the same time, I don’t.

Jack’s hands move downwards, the strokes concentrating on my chest down to the hollow of my stomach. He strokes just as firmly and just as infuriatingly because he doesn’t give more. His hands stroke over the ticklish skin of my navel, making me laugh softly, then moan as he moves even lower to caress my hipbones. I almost complain as the touches, the strong stroking, stop at my hips and move back up again. Even though I won’t admit it to Jack, I’ve never been touched by another human being like this. Not a woman and certainly not a man. Most men, even though it’s frowned upon, have had carnal knowledge of a female by my age and before marriage. I haven’t. I loved Elizabeth...I still love Elizabeth. I was hoping that intercourse with her would have been soon, but now... oh now, Jack is touching me and I’m so confused. It’s good...but wrong at the same time. Forbidden, but I’m on the verge of screaming for more. This touching. These caresses this man gives me are more arousing than anything I’ve dreamed off. More arousing than my wet dreams of Elizabeth. Just the touch of strong hands. Strokes up and down my body - not touching the obvious areas of nipples and manhood. Just stroking. Stroking.

“Please,” I pant out between breaths. It’s getting hard to draw breath. My chest is tight and tightening even more with each pass of Jack’s hands. He suckles now on my chest bone, moving across to find a hardened nipple. I gasp as he takes it into his mouth. I never dreamed they could be so sensitive.

“No...oh please,” I moan, tying to arch away from his mouth. I don’t want him to stop...but I do. My nipples are so responsive to his mouth, growing more and more inflamed and aroused by the second. I arch again, this time a very loud gasp escaping my lips as my penis presses against another one.

“Shhh,” Jack croons, kissing the wet and hard nipple before moving onto its twin. His hands start to rub in circles around my hipbones, holding me down now, pressing me into the bed. I gasp, grinding my bottom against the hard mattress, the burning welts on my bum creating an infuriating - arousing - pain to combine with the pleasure of Jack’s hands and mouth. I never expected such sweet pain to feel so good.

After a few more minutes of sucking, stroking and grinding, my brain short-circuits. I howl and arch against Jack, my body shuddering as if in orgasm, but my cock is unable to spew out its load. Its bound and the pain grows, fuelling my passion and the mind-blowing edge of orgasm that I can’t cross over. Suddenly, the tightness around my cock disappears. A hot hand touches me; I scream my head off and come all over Jack, the bed, and myself. I’m still screaming, as Jack presses against my writhing body and rubs his cock into my stomach. I arch and grind myself into him. My hands clutching his shoulders as he digs his fingers into mine. Black spots appear before my eyes and just before I pass out, I feel a hot wetness against my stomach. It’s with a surprising sense of the completion of Jack’s orgasm that I let myself fall into orgasmic bliss and unconsciousness.

Jack’s POV:

I awaken wrapped in warm sheets and an even warmer body. The soft breathing of the boy beside me blows air against my neck, a pleasant sensation. His weight is pressed against my side, a limber leg thrown over my hips to entwine between my legs. There is a tight hold where his arm is stretched around my stomach, with his hand pressing against my back. I’m learning that Will is more open in sleep and in the heights of passion. Sleeping, he curls around me. In passion, he clings to me. In waking he tries to run away either with body or mind. Will’s body knows I am his master. His mind doesn’t. His heart knows but he won’t hear it speaking the truth to him.

I too am wrapped around the boy, my arms holding him tight. One hand on his shoulder and the other resting on a pale, smooth hip. I love his hipbones. Smooth soft skin on top, and powerful muscles and bones below. The shape is perfect as I glide my hand over him, the rise and fall of his flesh, the perfect hollow where hip moves into groin leading across to a long, flaccid cock. Like hips, I do. Women’s hips. Girls hip’s. The flair of them. The feel of them under my hands. I like men’s hips, but so many of them lack the spread that Will has. His are like two mountains on either side of a valley, and in the centre is a beautiful fountain of sweet water. I move my hand lower, feeling the mountain - his hip - moving into the valley - his stomach - down to the geyser of sweet water. I stroke the soft cock in my hands, feeling the long shape, the small humps and hollows of veins, then further down the acorn head surrounded by the soft folds of foreskin. I pull it back slightly, letting a finger touch the sensitive glands underneath.

“Hmmm, Jack,” a sleepy voice hisses in my ear.

I told him that when he learns that I am Master he would be allowed to call me my by name. Though only during privates times like this.

“Touching is nice, Jack,” he says sleepily. He moves against me, his leg rising up to rest against my stomach, opening himself to my touches. I stoke him a little harder, my fingers wrapping around the body of his penis, to stroke up and down. On the down, I gently caress the soft foreskin, tugging it back before moving up to stroke the rest.

His breathing turns into pants against my shoulder and a soft tongue laps at my skin. Does he know what he makes me feel? My pretty Will. His hands dig in deeper, holding me tighter. I feel the leg against my stomach tremble, the muscles tightening and then relaxing as his desire rises. His leg moves up further, bending tighter. I want to touch him there. Further down. Behind his handsome cock and testes. Want to touch that small hole that is so open to me now.

“Will,” I groan, the thoughts of touching him making me hard. He’s oblivious to the power he holds. He’s ignorant of his attributes. The perfect skin. The perfect body. My perfect Will. I stop.

“Jack!” Will pleads, his hips twisting, trying to get the friction back.

I can’t do this. I want to bring him pleasure, but Will isn’t mine yet. He doesn’t recognise me as master. I quickly search the bed and find the leather strap. With one delft movement I bind his cock and scrotum preventing him anymore pleasure.

“What the!” Will shouts as I tie the knot. Hazel eyes are wide open, his mouth a shocked `O’. “Oh god, oh, oh,” he mumbles, he’s awake now and realises where and who’s bed he’s in. This is why there cannot be that tenderness between us, yet. He doesn’t want my touch.

Upon waking Will immediately untangles himself from me and backs off the bed. He lands with a thump, and yell. I rise slowly, watching him scurry away and then get to his feet.

“Kneel, Will,” I order as I reach for my breeches. Will doesn’t do anything, he just stares at me with furious eyes and clenching fists. “Will, kneel or go without breakfast.”

That makes him hesitate. He’s wondering if he can go without food this morning. If yesterday’s meals will be enough to last him the day. He decides not and slowly drops to his knees. I finish dressing in silence, his eyes following every move I make. I should berate him, but I like him watching me. I like being the centre of his attention. When I’ve finished, I find the piece of rope I used the day before to bind his wrists. Will tenses, his body swaying to the side because of the instinct to flee.

“Give me yer hands,” I growl. I change my mind as he offers me his wrists. “Cross them, behind ya.” Will hesitate, but does as I order. Moving behind him, I cross his wrists and tightly bind them together. I notice that the lashes on his back are healing well. There is also a nice stripe of welts from the belting I gave him too. Such pretty skin. Pretty wounds. Red against pale. A painting of pinks, reds and white on his skin.

After binding his wrists, I stroke his thick hair back and with a piece of cloth tie it at the nape. I caress my fingers over his head, down his face, feeling his eyes close as I touch him. His head dropping back ever so slightly when I reach his chin and neck. He likes the touches; he’s just denying himself. I have to change that. I have to make him wanton...but only to me.

“Remember our littl’ rules, pet?” I whisper, bending to reach his ear. He doesn’t answer. I know he wants to answer back with anger. He’s careful though. Will knows that there is no escape off a ship in the middle of the wide blue ocean. He’s clever, biding his time, planning for the opportunity. I smile, Will never was very good at grasping the opportune moments that present themselves. I hope that still holds true. I’ll never let him go.

I stoke my finger down the side of Will’s face and then grab his chin with my hand. He bites off a yell as I yank his head back. Large terrified eyes stare into mine. “Yes,” Will grinds out.

There is no respect in that reply. I’ll remember that for later. “Here’s a new one. You’ll never touch yourself without my permission. That means everything and anything to do with yer body, Will. Cleaning. Toilet. Eating.”

“Go to hell,” he snarls back.

“Pretty, with yer hands behind ya back yer’ll have to ask.” I state the obvious.

Apparently, he didn‘t think of that. His head snaps away from me and he gives me an angry glare. I smile back.

“Now I‘m going up on deck. While I‘m there yer to kneel at me desk.” Will gives me a look of defiance. “Then if yer good, breakfast will be when I get back.” He reconsiders. I wrap my hand around his arm and Will rises to his feet. He says nothing as I lead him out into the main cabin, and he drops down beside the desk. He glares at me with fury but he doesn't say a word. I know that he ate little on the slave boat, and I hate using that against him, but it does give me some leverage.

I go up on deck, check the crew, give out orders and then take my leave of them. I meet the galley boy on the way back to my cabin. The young lad does the cleaning and serving, while helping the cook. He hands me the breakfast tray - a meal of bread and fruit this morning - and then leaves with a confused look on his face. By now the crew will know I have a slave on board, but it doesn’t mean I’m ready for them to see him just yet. He’s untrained and naked, no one can see him but me. I open the cabin doors and am surprised to see that Will is where I left him. Kneeling on the floor with his head turned towards the windows at the far end of the room, looking out at the clear blue skies. There is a sad look on that boyish face.

I place the tray down, noting that he hasn’t even looked in my direction yet. That infuriates me. Another note is made in my head. “Will, come here.” Will turns his head and to my amazement his eyes are blood shot and wet. Tears are falling from those bright eyes. Beautiful eyes.

“What would ye be thinking of, Will?” I ask, those eyes burning into my soul. I’ve shed enough tears in this cabin to last me a lifetime. I don’t want that for Will.

“I-I was thinking of Elizabeth.”

The bitch. No, that’s a bit strong. We’re the same she and I. Using and being used - that’s how we both treat people - situations. Told her that too. She didn’t deny it. She’d be using my pretty boy too.

“You love her?” I ask sitting down at the table and picking up an apple.

“I-I...” No words fall from his lips. He gazes at me as I slowly carve the apple with a knife from the tray. His eyes are glued to the movements of my hands as I cut it into pieces. Then his gaze is fixed onto my lips. At first I don’t see what he does. Then I realise. When concentrating sometimes I bite my lower lip, sucking it into my mouth. It’s a small thing that when I was young, in the service of my own master, he’d slap my face whenever I did it. I don’t do it often, but it happens without my knowing. An unconscious action.

“Ja-Captain, may I have breakfast?” He speaks softly, his eyes gazing my lips. I lick them, watching as he swallows with what could be nerves...or even desire. Likes my lips does he?

“Come here, kneel before me,” I direct, watching his lithe body rise and then drop to his knees before me. I carve a slice of apple, and put it half in my mouth. I lean forward and offer it him. Will stares, eyes flicking between my eyes and mouth. Then he slowly leans forward and takes the offering from me. My teeth breaks the slice in half and it falls onto his tongue. Will groans, chewing the slice and savouring the sweet tang.

“Yer like my mouth, don’t ya, Will?”

Will shakes his head, but when I offer him a second slice from between my lips he takes it eagerly.

“Don’t cha, Will?”

Another slice and no answer.

“Say it.”

“Yes, yes,” he pleads, his mouth open begging for more.

I give him more until the apple is gone. With the last slice I follow it back into his mouth, sliding our tongues together, crushing the fruit between us and savouring the flavour. Will groans. When our mouths break, he looks away back towards the window.

“I hate you,” he whispers. “I hate you.”

“I know, petal,” I purr, lifting his face with my finger under his chin. “I know yer hate me. Yer hate me because your body wants what I have to offer.”

“Bastard,” he snarls back.

Even with his cruel words, his admission of hatred, when I kiss him, he’s welcoming. His hot tongue entwines with mine. His lips press wantonly against mine. His teeth nip at my lips. His tongue searches inside my mouth. His kisses are like fire. Hot. Burning with desire. I thread my fingers through his long hair, quickly pulling it out from the tidy bow. I take handfuls of his hair, dragging his head back and holding it still as I ravage his mouth. He pants. Moans. Begs in hot breaths when we part for air. I might not own his heart. I might not control his mind. But his body is mine. It burns for me. Aches for me. He grinds his hips against my legs, pressing his erect but bound prick against me. The mind and heart will soon follow the body; I’ll make sure of that.

Finally, with bruised lips we break the kiss. He drops back, resting that fine ass against his ankles; his face still tilted towards me. Full red mouth making him look like a debauched angel. I sit back in my chair and grin. Will’s curved eyebrow arches and he sighs. He can’t admit that I’m right.

“I’ve got to go now, pretty.”

“What!” That grabs Will’s attention. “But, I’ve...I need...” He indicates to his swollen cock. It looks like it hurts, red with a purple head. Aching. Raw. I smile.

“That’s the next lesson, Pretty.”

I stand up, turning away from his confused face. I have plans for lunchtime, though maybe I’ll be back soon to play with my distressed pet.

Will’s POV:

BASTARD! Jack Sparrow is a complete and utter BASTARD!! I despise him. Hate him. Loathe him. How could he leave me like this...oh damn! Now I’m wishing him back. I shouldn’t want him. I shouldn’t desire his kisses. His mouth on mine. I should be fighting!

I sink to my knees beside Jack’s desk, bow my head and weep. It’s too much. I can’t take Jack’s attention anymore. He’s doing things to my body I’ve never experienced before, and the awful fact is - I like it. No one’s ever touched me like Jack does. No one has ever made me feel like Jack does. And certainly no one has ever brought me to such mind shattering orgasms as Jack does.

Bastard.

I weep tears for myself, and for Elizabeth. I don’t think she could ever treat me, touch me, and arouse me as Captain Jack Sparrow does. Even now, without him in the room - I want more. My body cries out for his hands, his mouth on mine. I sob because I want him to come back and touch me some more. I cry because I don’t understand why I want him. Why?! Why this man that I hate, that holds me prisoner here, that keeps me naked and hard? Why do I want him to walk back through that door and to do whatever he wishes to do to me? He beat me. Whipped me. Belted me. Yet, with all that abuse, I desperately want his hands back on my body.

I no longer cry for Elizabeth, just for me and my confusion - my needs - my hopes. Just for the fact that when Jack comes back I’ll do as he says. I cry until there are no more tears left.

~*~*~*~

A bell rings high up on deck, a man’s voice shouts out - “Grub!”. I guess that is the call to lunch. I can’t help but lick my lips and stare at the cabin door. Will Jack come back? Do I want him to come back? My body is hard and aching, my cock throbbing and little Will certainly wants him to come back.

It’s not long before it gets its wish. Jack opens the outer door, a tray in his hand and he sits at the table once again. I can smell hot bread and ham and licking my lips I stare at Jack.

“Hungry, pet?” Jack asks, lifting a piece of bread and ham to his lips.

“Yes, J-Captain,” I reply. The food smells so good and fresh, and my body welcomes back Jack even if my mind tries to deny its need.

“Come, kneel.” Jack shifts around on his chair so that I can kneel between his legs. I slowly get up, trying to ignore the ache in my groin. Jack watches me, licking his lips clean and wide eyed as I drop down before him. I don’t look up, but gaze at the plate of hot food on the table. He’s not pleased with that, and one of his long fingers presses below my chin, lifting my face up.

“Open,” Jack directs, and I open my mouth. I’m half expecting a kiss, half dreading it too, but he doesn’t kiss me, just tears of a corner of bread and ham, and then puts it on my tongue. I can’t help but smile as the hot tastes burn onto my tongue. The bread is wonderful and the ham rich. I eat it slowly, my eyes gazing into Jack’s, and when done, I open my mouth again. Jack feeds himself another piece, then puts one onto my tongue. This time his fingers follow the outline of my lips as I close them and chew the bread. Again he eats a helping and then feeds me. This continues, until I’m moaning as he touches my mouth or my lips. I never knew eating could be so...so erotic.

Then the food is gone and too my shame I’m disappointed that there isn’t more. I don’t want Jack to stop.

“Thirsty?” Jack asks.

I nod expecting to be given a cup of water, but like always Jack surprises me. Instead of giving me a glass of water, he pours some of the sparkling liquid into his hand. It drips down between his fingers; wet splashes against my skin as he offerings me in his hands. I gape as the first handful drips onto my body and the floor. Each drop of cool water making me shiver. Jack only smiles, and pours out another handful. This time thirst takes over and I lean forward to lap the water from his hand. He groans with the first touch of my tongue, his hand trembling as I lap away the water and lick it clean. He offers me more, and I repeat the action. Lapping and licking clean. Again more water, but this time it’s enough so when I finish I nip the end of his index finger. Jack almost yelps as my teeth nip his skin. His dark wide eyes stare into mine and it takes a moment for him to calm his breathing.

“Get up. Sit on the table.”

“W-what?” I ask startled at the rough words. His voice is forceful, desperate even. It almost scares...no, not scares me, it makes me realise he’s there and so are his desires. That he does want me. I can’t decide what I think about that. No one’s ever wanted me as a sexual creature before, yet, every second I spend with Jack I learn more and more about the desires in myself and how I can make others see me. I’ve never felt that with Elizabeth. That I had sexuality. That I could be physically arousing. That someone could look at me, with that rough edge like Jack is doing and it makes me want to obey. I haven’t a clue what comes next. I don’t know if he’ll hurt me or not, but I do rise to my feet and stop. My hands are bound behind my back making it hard to get on the table.

“Captain, my hands,” I tell him. Jack’s breathing grows hoarse and when his fingers fiddle with the knots of the rope I can tell he’s trembling. I’m doing that to him. It’s a strange feeling to have power over another man’s desire. He fiddles with the knot, finally pulling the rope loose and ripping it off. I move back to the table, and facing him, lift myself up to sit on the edge. Jack smirks.

“Lie back,” he commands, rising to his feet to stand before me.

I can’t help the shiver of expectation and a little desire as I lie myself back. The hard wood of the table pressing against my back and buttocks.

“Bring yer knees up.”

I moan when he says that. For a moment I hesitate, but then Jack’s hands are guiding my thighs up, so I obey, lifting my knees, and then Jack pushes them apart, making my feet rest on the edge of the table. I look down the length of my body, past my bound cock and my breath catches in my throat. I’m exposed. My legs spread like a woman’s, Jack between them, looking down at my throbbing cock. My head falls back with a thump and I moan. I can’t look because I know that if my penis wasn’t bound I would be coming all over Jack’s chest at the sight.

“Pretty,” Jack purrs, his hands stroking the sides of my thighs. The flesh quivers under his skin. Goosebumps rise where his hands roam over and up my legs. I spread my arms over the table and clamp my hands around the edges. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Jack gazing at my erect cock, his head coming down, and...

“ARGHH!” I scream as a hot, wet mouth takes my cock inside. I scream again as a rough tongue laps at my cock-head, pushing back the foreskin, riming the glans. I writhe on the table before him. My hips rising up to bury myself deeper into his hot, tight place. My hands tighten and my head rolls, lifts and drops back. I can hear the thud my head makes on the wood, it should hurt but at this moment, I can feel nothing but the heat and tightness around my cock.

Jack takes the end of my penis into his mouth and starts to slowly suck. More gurgled sounds rise from my throat and my hips lift off the table. Jack’s strong hands immediately press against my hips and he holds me down. I snarl in anger at being held back, and I begin to writhe under his hands trying to push up into the wet circle of his mouth. He doesn’t stop holding me down, he pushes against me harder, holding me still and then he blows my brain by taking the whole length of my cock into his mouth. I howl in delight. Delight that turns to burning pain, as I want to come. I want to come down his throat. I want him to taste me.

“Please! Plea-oh!-se!” I pant as my whole body tightens ready to orgasm. “Captain! Please!! Oohh! PLEASE!”

I arch off the table, my body snapping and bowing, writhing and pleading. Oh please, I need to come. I feel my nails dig into the wood, my feet lifting my body off the table, anything to get deeper into Jack’s mouth. Anything to let me orgasm. I scream as I feel his fingers touching the ties on my cock. He unties part of it, but still I can’t come. I’m beyond words, just pants and cries. Then his hand moves lower, a long finger starts to rub against my asshole. I tense. The tension makes the need even stronger. I can almost hear my back crack as I arch off the table again, forcing the finger to press inside of my body. The leather binding is suddenly gone and the finger presses deeper and against some burning spot. I howl and come down Jack’s throat. Once again, the orgasm pounds through my body, making me scream and thrash and then...blackness.


Jack’s POV:

I lick the rod inside my mouth clean; feeling Will soften on my tongue. He’s passed out, it proves the kid was wound up too tight, like he had a rod up his ass. Oh he does...my finger. I laugh to myself, and let the lad’s cock fall from my mouth. I slowly remove my finger noting how tight he feels in there. Tight and warm. Going to be in there by tonight. Oh yes. He’ll be passing out again before I’ve done with him.

Will’s so pretty when he comes. His cheeks blushing red, his body trembling, tightening. He pants and moans, words turning into breaths of air instead of making a noise. He begs so well before the crescendo hits and then he‘s writhing, and moaning, and arching. He’s so pretty and he doesn’t even realise it. Will don’t see himself as a sexual creature. He doesn’t see what I do. Will is a master’s dream. Innocent, young, confused and oozing sexual curiosity. I bet Elizabeth, the bitch, never made him hard just by kissing him. She’s never made him come by rubbing up against him still clothed. Well, I have.

I stroke my hands down Will’s thighs, delighting in his soft skin. Pale and untouched by scars, so different to the colour of my hands. I have scars on my thighs were Will doesn’t. Scars where my Captain would tie my legs open with a pole. Scars where men would dig in their fingernails as they took me. Scars where my Captain made me bleed with his knife.

I close my eyes, trying to push the memories back. This is Will before me - not a copy of me. I’m no longer a slave, I’m the master now. This boy is my pretty one, mine, and mine alone. I’ll never share him with anyone. I stroke the firm planes of Will’s stomach, moving to the outside of his thighs. I feel it on his right thigh, my mark. The mark of a Sparrow. Mine.

The old memories fade with touching Will. The pain is gone and I turn my attention to the spent boy lying limp across my table. I would like to leave him here, but someone might find him. Instead, I climb on top of him, my knees on either side of his chest and I lean down to kiss his lips gently.

“Hmmmm, Jack,” he moans as our lips part. I wonder what Elizabeth would think about that. In the height or aftermath of orgasm, Will’s never moaned her name. I kiss his lips again, this time lazily tasting inside his mouth with my tongue. His opens wide, welcoming me inside and a warm tongue slides against my own.

“I have to go back on deck,” I mumble against his lips when our kiss ends. Will moans softly, and a warm hand presses against my back. His eyes are closed still, and I don’t think he realises what he’s doing. Like I’ve said before, his body reacts to me in ways his mind refuses to do. “I want you to stay in the bunk until I get back.”

Will’s hazel eyes flick open and his body stiffens. See, his brain has engaged and he won’t touch me. I slide off him, and hold out my hand. He slowly gets off the table, a hand rubbing his back. With the amount of thrashing and arching he did, I’m not surprised. I lead him out of the main cabin and back to the bunk.

“Are you going to tie me up again?” Will asks.

“Will, my pet, you know you shouldn’t ask me questions. I’m captain here, not you.”

Anger flashes in Will’s eyes and once again he stiffens, fists clenched at his side. This is another sign of disobedience I’ll have to remember later.

“Get on the bed,” I demand.

Will hesitates, his eyes flicking from me, to the bed, and then to the door. Finally, he sighs and climbs onto the bed. He can’t escape. He doesn’t want another beating, so he’s obeying...for now. Doesn’t he know I understand what he’s feeling? I tie his hands to together and attach the rope to the hook on the wall. I then turn to his legs, moving to sit at the end of the bunk. Will’s eyes widen in confusion as I lift his knees and spread his legs open.

“What are you doing?” he hisses, his voice touched with a little fear.

“I want ya to think about something,” I tell him, my hands stroking his firm, beautiful thighs. “I want ya to think of how pretty you are. How perfect your body. How you make me desire ya. How beautifully you come. Think about how I’m going to take ya tonight.”

Will gasps and he tries to close his thighs. I don’t let him, leaning my arm across the backs; I hold him open and suck a finger into my mouth. Will’s eyes open wider in panic. When I’ve made my finger wet enough, I press it to the tiny opening to his body.

“No! Please, Jack!”

I press my finger inside him, the muscles contracting around me. He tries to wriggle his hips, but it only makes my finger move around inside him. He gasps in surprise at the sensation. I press deeper searching for something. Then with a loud yell of surprise I know I’ve found it. I press the magic button, making him cry out and arch off the bed. His lovely long, well-formed cock once again shows interest and starts to rise from his groin. I stroke the button harder, watching until his penis is fully erect. It’s with a moan, from both of us, that I pull my finger out. I wipe it on the sheets, and then find the leather strap to bind his cock. Will grunts as I handle the sensitive skin, binding him tightly, around the base of his cock and balls. I love to see him so. Erect and unable to come. Only doing so when he screams my name, when he begs me to let him.

“Bastard!” Will snarls as I stand up. I grin back...and surprisingly so does Will. Now that’s interesting. Very interesting.

“I’ll be back soon, me pretty petal.”

Will flings his head back into the pillow and groans.

~*~*~*~

It’s dark by the time I’m able to return to Will. He’s still bound where I left him, cock hard and legs spread. The only difference being the relaxed look on his face as he sleeps. Soft lips, long eyelashes spreading over his cheeks and no tension in his features. He’s as pretty as many a girl. More desirable even, with his pale skin, pink nipples, smooth, hollow stomach, flared hips and straight cock. Tonight, I’m going to see if he’s tighter than any virgin is.

I can’t wait until later, until after dinner. I need to sample him now. I start to undress, throwing aside my waistcoat, shirt, breeches and finally, my hat. My body is so unlike his. Darker. Scarred. Hard where Will is smooth and soft. Jaded while Will is innocent. Damn, I never want him to lose that.

I climb onto the bed and kneel between his spread legs. I stroke his smooth thighs, pushing them back, rolling up his hips. His tiny hole blinks at me. I swallow hard.

“What will you do when you’ve had me?”

I almost fall off the bed when Will speaks. I didn‘t realise he was awake.

“I’m not stupid you know. People use me. They take what they want. My skill. My loyalty. My love. What will you do, Captain Sparrow?”

“I’ll keep ya, savvy?”

Will is silent, not replying, just spreading his legs wider.

“I want to feel you,” he whispers. “You make me feel so many things. Feelings I’ve never experienced before. You make me feel like...”

“Like sex on legs?” I ask with a laugh.

“Yeah,” Will sighs.

Enough with the talking. Never wanted to rape Will and it looks like I won’t have to now. How can he not see how erotic and attractive he is? So pretty. So alluring. Ass begging to be fucked. A cock begging to be ridden. All mine.

Enough thinking, it’s time to act. I lean over the bed, grab my jacket and fish out from my pocket a pot of grease. Good stuff this, the best. Virgin oil for me virgin lad. I lay it on the bed and spread Will’s legs again. He tilts his hips, and I lift his legs over my forearms. He shudders as I hold him open. Spread out like a feast. I dip my finger into the oil, spreading it around a little; making sure it coats the whole digit. I groan at the thought of my finger breaching his tightness. I grit my teeth. I have to hold back or I’ll be splattering his thighs before I even get inside him. I press my fingertip to his hole, spreading the oil around in circles a couple of times before finally breaching him. Will lets out a long gasp. I press deeper, looking for that spot once again. I find the ridge and press.

“Ohhh!” His body tightens, lifting off the bed as I caress him. I withdraw and slick up a second finger. This one enters with a little more pressure; making Will feel the stretch. I scissor them, looking up the length of Will’s body to see his eyes widen in amazement. His mouth an perfect `O’ as I wriggle my fingers. His hands claw at the rope binding them, and he arches again as I touch his magic spot. Sweet.

It’s time to lube up a third finger, and when this one enters, I have to use both hands to open him. I hear a loud thud as his head drops back and he cries out. “Captain!” His perfect hips rise up off the bed, and as I press deeper he starts to ride my fingers. I watch as his head is flung from side to side, his teeth biting though his lips and eyes squeezed shut. I know I’m not hurting him - it’s not pain in his face, but complete pleasure. He loves the touching. Everything I’ve ever done to him has been about touching and his body can’t deny how much he likes it. His mind can, and does, but at this moment, I don’t think it’s engaged. His body has taken over and he’s writhing, begging below me. I can’t hold back a second more.

I rip my three fingers out of his passage, lube up my cock with lots of oil and lifting his hips higher, press against his clenching hole. Will pants, and his eyes find mine. They are unfocused, shiny, wet with the tears of passion and need. I press in hard and his eyes close. His mouth falls open again as my cock head opens up his ass. He howls as I press deeper into him. I bite my lip as I gain entrance to the tight sheath of his body.

“So fuckin’ tight!” I cry, and wow, it is too. His muscles are clenching around me, but still relaxed enough to let me in. My foreskin is being pushed back by his tightness creating beautiful friction. I press on, moving slowly even though I want to pound into him. I want to make him wail and scream. I want to get sucked up into his tightness. But I don’t. I go slowly and finally - finally! - I slip all the way inside and my balls rest against his buttocks.

“Oh! Oh! Jack!” Will pants out when I’m fully embedded. We’re one now. Nothing can ever part us. We fit together. Two of the same, and yet at the same time, totally opposite.

I stroke the firm body below me. Dark hands rubbing over his pale hips and stomach. I don’t move yet, I need to relax a bit to hold back my impending orgasm. His tightness alone makes me want to come. As the tension leaves my groin, I slowly begin to move. Small strokes in and out, little pushes against his wet, hot walls. His pants are controlled now, gasping as I push in, moaning as I pull out. I speed up slowly, feeling the muscles inside him tense and relax around my girth.

“Squeeze me when I push in,” I whisper to him, feeling him tighten as I push against him. He yelps. “Squeeze when I pull out.” He does, and his body clings to my cock. He likes that feeling, and I push in easily and then he squeezes as I pull out. With each thrust and retreat, I scrape more and more forcibly over his prostate - his magic button. He makes a sound like a little cough when I brush against it. I move in concert with his body, we work as one and it’s bloody amazing! Never has a lover felt like Will. Never have I blended with another to move as one perfect being. I love the sounds he makes. He loves when I shift deeper. I love the look on his glazed eyes. He loves me stroking his hipbones. We are one.

Soon all thought is gone and I’m pounding into his tight place. My balls slapping against his ass. My fingers digging bloodied holes into his hips. Sharp pants rise from his open mouth. Cries of passion fall from my own. Slap and squish. Grunt and groan. Yell and beg. Fingers gripping tightly to flesh and rope. Hips rolling, slapping against flesh over and over again. Bodies tightening, flying higher with each thrust. I’m on the edge of orgasm, and it’s only with the need for Will to come with me that I remember to untie his bound cock.

“JACK!!” The loud screech fills the cabin and Will comes all over my hand, chest and even spatters my chin. His ass muscles tighten around me, clenching and squeezing involuntarily as he comes. I howl seconds later, spilling my seed deep within him. I press in deeper, wanting to fill every limb and crevice. His hips are lifted off the bed, legs in the air and I still can’t get deep enough. Finally, the last spurt erupts from me and I fall back, slipping from his body and collapsing on the bunk.

“Oh wow,” I breathe. My body exhausted and still. I never want to move from this spot.


Will’s POV:

“Oh god, oh lord, oh wow!” I pant out, my head falling back onto the pillow as my orgasm washes through me. My whole body is trembling. Shivering with after-effects of post-coital bliss. That was a hundred times better than my own hand. That was beyond belief. I think every cell in my body orgasmed! If this is what awakening sexuality is all about, I’m all for it! That was unbelievable. Jack can do that to me any day of the week! Over and over again. He can...

I stop thinking. What am I doing? I’ve just experienced the most intense, passionate and amazing sexual event of my life - with Jack! With a man. With a man that claims to be my owner. With someone who isn’t Elizabeth.

Guilt floods through me. I haven’t thought of her once when Jack touches me. When he has sex with me. Not once have I considered her. Not once have I screamed her name. No matter how much I try to tell myself I hate Jack and his advances, deep down, I know I don’t. I like him touching me. I love it when he brings me to an orgasm that makes me pass out. I like being a ‘her’ with him. Oh, I still hate the whole ownership thing. I’m not a slave...but can I do without Jack touching me again if I leave? Could I ever find this passion in Elizabeth’s arms?

These thoughts are once again dismissed as Jack crawls up the length of my body and unties my hands. He strokes the red marked wrists and kisses my palms. I moan of course, as I do every time he touches me. The spark of his touch is now undeniable. He makes something deep inside me burn. I don’t know if it’s love or just sexual desire. I don’t care. I like it.

He leans over me, placing his hands beside my head and leans down to kiss my bruised lips. His wonderful tongue laps at my mouth and I give him entrance. He dives right in, lapping at my teeth, sliding against my tongue and basically getting as deep as he can. Sometimes, I wish he could get deeper.

“Sleep now, me Will,” Jack purrs into my ear, as he breaks the kiss and lies beside me. His body fits into my side, a heavy leg sliding over my hip and an arm wraps around my chest. I’m warm, spent and completely sated. I turn into Jack’s embrace, rest my face into his neck and close my eyes. He smells so good. His hair brushes against my face, the heavy trinkets making a bell like sound. When did I get used to sleeping with him? When did I learn to like the feel and the touch of him? I can’t hold on to the questions anymore, exhaustion takes over and I lose myself in sleep.


Jack’s POV:

Tonight the dreams come again. They awoke me early this morning, my body was still curled around Will and in my fears I had held him tighter. His nose is crushed against my neck, my arms clinging to his back, and my legs completely entwined with his. It would be easy to assume we were - are - one body.

I awoke on the edge of a scream. The dream feeling so real - so now. Yet, after I awaken I don’t feel the fear I used to. Will is here in my arms and it’s no longer real.

I dreamed of Him. I never can say his name, not even after all these years. I always think of him as `Him’ or `The Captain’. He was my master, my owner. I was but 14 when he brought me. I didn’t really have much of a family life before that, I spent most of it on ships even then - my father was first mate on a merchant vessel and my mother a cook. I don’t really remember how I ended up on a slaver’s block. Yet, I did and was sold to the Captain of the Black Pearl. This ship became my prison after that. I was branded, raped and beaten on the very first night. I screamed for someone to save me but no one did. I spilt my blood and sweat onto the decks of the Pearl for years after, servicing that bastard of a Captain.

But my dream wasn’t about that. It was about the last days of my servitude. Years later, when I was 21 years old. It had been a night like any other; the Captain beat me, raped me and then tied me to the end post of his bunk. Unfortunately, over the years my Captain had made many enemies and that night they lay siege to the Black Pearl and attempted to board her. For the first time I had a chance of freedom. If I could escape at the same time as the raid, there was a chance I could go free with the borders. If I were put with the Black Pearl’s crew I would be killed along with the Captain. So I acted. I attacked him, almost pulled my foot off as I tugged on the rope that bound me. I bit and fought him. He tried to shove me off, but I bit his leg, my mouth filling with his blood. He flung me aside, snapping the bone in my ankle and I went crashing into a lantern. The oil burst into flame and I managed to get it to burn my rope. I stood painfully on my feet, my leg and arm burned and ankle broken. My master had grabbed a sword by then, and laughed as I attacked him again. How I managed to get the sword away from him I’ll never know. I bit, screamed, fought, hit - anything to stop him. There was so much pain but I couldn’t stop. I had to be free. In the end, bleeding, on the edge of giving up, I managed to grab a short knife he kept beside his bed and I stabbed him. I just kept on stabbing him until the invaders Captain burst into the cabin and had to drag me off.

I don’t remember much after that. I was tended and healed, my body no longer pretty, but scarred and burned. Yet, I was free and nothing could spoil that feeling of joy at my freedom. The other Captain, who had no interest in the Pearl herself, offered me a partnership. So I took the partnership and the ship. The Black Pearl became mine. The ship where I had spilt my blood now gave me her very existence. The Black Pearl became my new freedom, and I was her new master and she would never betray me. The Pearl too is Will’s guardian - he has spilt his blood here. He belongs here with her and me. Yet, what if he became like me. If he starts to plans my murder as I did my Captain’s. I could never see that happen to my beautiful, pure Will. His innocence is more than skin deep. I’d hate to see myself destroy that.

I curl my arms tightly around his firm body and hold him to me. To keep him, I might have to let him go.

With great reluctance I pry myself away from him, untangling our arms and legs, but before I go I press my lips to his forehead.

“Mine, Will, yer always mine.”

I get up, dress and leave him. My heart breaking with every step, but I cannot break him. I want him. I want to own him. But to take that ownership to the point of where I destroy him? I can’t.

Goodbye, my sweet Will.


Will’s POV:

I awaken to a cold and empty bed. Over the last couple of days Jack has always been here in my arms, holding me tight, my nose buried in his neck. I miss his presence, even though I find that strange. He’s a man - a man who has made me a slave - but even though my mind says I shouldn’t miss him - I do. I stretch out and suddenly still. I quickly notice the change, for the leather strap, which is always around my cock, is missing. My hands are free too. I have no bindings holding me to the bed. I slowly get up and look around, wondering what else is new. Next I spot a shirt, breeches, and shoes lying on the table. More confusion.

I’m frozen for a moment, unsure what to do. Dress or stay in bed. Dress and leave. Stay naked and stay. I decide to dress. Pulling on the rough clothing feels strange against my skin. I’ve spent so long naked that I’ve almost grown used to it. I’m no longer so embarrassed and I think a part of me likes how Jack leers at my nakedness.

I dress in the clothing and slowly try the door. The door opens quietly, but again to my surprise the outer cabin is empty and beyond that the door hangs wide open. Complete confusion now reigns. I cross the cabin and approach the doors, ready for anyone that might jump out at me. No one does and when I reach the door, I can’t see anyone around either. No Jack. No Guards. Hell, no crew. I stand out on deck looking around - no one. Then I gasp.

We’re no longer at sea, but anchored just outside a port. A port that I recognise - Port Royal. Jack has brought me home. I can jump ship easily enough and swim to shore from here. I could be back with Elizabeth and forget all this ever happened. I could go back to my life. I wouldn’t be a slave. I could...

What am I doing? Thinking about it? I should go before anyone comes back. I don’t care where they are - I can leave. I run down the steps and make for the rail on the port side of the ship. No ones around so I can jump into the water and swim to shore. I can just go.

Okay, I can do all that so why am I hesitating?

Why aren’t I jumping right into that blue-green water and swimming to shore?

Why aren’t I running to see Elizabeth?

Why aren’t I leaving?

I stand on the edge, looking over the railing to the waters below. I can go. No one will stop me. Just jump. My mind is screaming go! Jump! Run! But my heart is saying...stay. My body is screaming - stay! A wonderful ache in my ass is begging to me stay too. If I stay, though, I would be committing myself to the life of a slave. I would be doing it willingly this time. I would be choosing to stay with Jack.

Jack who I loathe...but can’t really hate. Jack who inspires in me such confusion between hate, desire, need, and love. Jack who shoves aside any thought or memory of Elizabeth. Jack who takes me to such heights of emotional and sexual pleasure. Hell, I’m even missing my hands being tied and the leather strap around my cock.

Which should I choose? The life of comfort and homely feelings with Elizabeth? Or the life of adventure, passion and the greatest pleasure I’ve ever experienced with Jack? One life can last forever. One can’t. One life can bring children. While the other can make me feel more alive than I’ve ever done before. One life will stay stale and unchanging. While the other, the other will be full of mystery and never knowing what’s around the corner. One life is tied to Elizabeth. While the other is tied to Jack.

Jack or Elizabeth. It’s as simple as that.

Slave or free man. Slave or husband. Lover or companion.

I look over to the busy town of Port Royal. At the green hills. The large confining buildings. I look at them one last time and say goodbye. I turn my back on Elizabeth, and walk up the steps and back into my Captain’s cabin, my clothing falling to the ground as I go. I remove the last piece as I open the inner bedroom door and find myself naked once again. My leather strap is waiting for me, abandoned between the sheets on the bunk. I pick it up, wrapping a firm hand around my cock and pump until I’m panting and hard. I wrap the strap around my penis and balls just as Jack does. He likes me hard. I get onto the bed, my legs open and my arms crossed above my head. I close my eyes and just breath.

This is me now. I’m Will, Jack’s slave.

It’s not long before the cabin darkens and I open my eyes to see Captain Jack Sparrow standing in the doorway. He doesn’t say anything, just gives me a sad smile and starts to undress. His clothing joins mine on the floor; I like him naked too. He climbs onto the bed, kneels between my legs, and bends over me. His long fine fingers rake through my hair and he crushes our mouths together. I love his kisses.

Finally, it ends and he gazes into my eyes. “Yer’ve been very bad, my precious,” he purrs, one hand gliding down my chest to squeeze a nipple. I moan in desire and arch up against him.

“Yer’ve not been punished for your disobedience yesterday and this morning,” he leans close, hissing into my ear. “Ya touched yeself.”

I had feared he would talk about Port Royal and not leaving, but he doesn’t. He never will mention that and neither shall I. It’s gone as if the past never existed. As if Elizabeth never existed. I am a slave and he is my Captain. There is nothing more than that - for both of us.

“Get on yer stomach,” Jack growls and helps me roll over.

Blood and passion are burning through my veins as I arch my back into Jack’s hands. He holds me down and I wonder what punishment he’s thinking off. The strap? His belt? Both of them make me even harder. I moan and rock my hips, trying to get some friction to my cock.

“Naughty,” Jack laughs into my ear and drags my hips off the bed until I’m up on my knees with my head pushed into the pillow. “Now, yer need five punishments for yesterday and ooo, another five for touching what’s mine.”

A hot hand rubs over my bottom and I start to pant. I don’t understand why, and probably never will. Why do I react to Jack the way I do? He moves behind me and suddenly I feel the burning hit of the flat of his hand against my left cheek. I yelp with the pain.

“One.”

Then another slap, another pain and he leaves a burning mark behind on the right cheek.

“Two.”

Pain flares, but so does passion. He hits me again, and again. Counting out the slaps, until he reaches ten. By that time, my brain has shut down and my body has taken over. I’m desperate for Jack’s touch.

“Please, Captain,” I plead, arching my back even more and offering myself to him. Damn, I’ve turned into a right slut.

“Mine,” Jack snarls, and with strong hands he parts the burning cheeks and presses his hardness against my fluttering hole. I try to draw him in, but he torments me with little pushes. I’m about to beg a second time, but with a sudden cry he shoves forward, riding on last night’s oil and cum, burying himself back into my body. Back where he belongs.

We grind and push. Thrust and cry. Two bodies joined together forever. I don’t know if it’s love or lust that holds me to Jack Sparrow. I don’t know if it’s hate and revenge either. All I do know is that he is my Captain, my master. I am his slave. I have accepted this life, for whatever reason, be it love or the sense of adventure. I have chosen Jack and he me. It’s the way we should always be - together.



The End.

Author’s Notes: William Turner is one of the most interesting characters in the Pirates of the Caribbean film. No, he doesn’t have the presence of Jack Sparrow or his unusual attributes, but William does go through so many changes during the film, that’s what makes him interesting. The beginning of PotC portrays Will as a shy young man, ignored by his peers and rather stiff...(referring to Mr Gibbs and Jack’s conversation in the Wound to Tight deleted scene - when referring to Will says he’s a bit of a stick) As the film develops Will learns, changes, and at the end he reaches out for what he wants.

I tired to add that development into this story. In Will’s Slavery, Will is kidnapped from his home, sold to Jack, and then suddenly introduced to a whole world he’s never experienced before. Jack puts out all his seductive wiles to an unsuspecting Will, almost drowning him in a sexual overload. Will loses himself in this new world of sensual sexual activities, and then Jack takes away those feelings. He gives Will the opportunity to leave but Will can’t. He grabs this opportune moment, makes a decision (whether it be wise or not) and decides to stay with Jack.

This story is really just the beginning of Will learning his new position as Jack‘s Slave. It has all been about Jack’s seduction of Will. Will’ fall into sexual fantasies wilder than he has ever dreamed off. He’s never experienced them before, and can’t get enough of how Jack makes him feel. But now that Jack’s seduction is over, when he has his willing pet, how will William react then? Can he continue to be submissive to Jack when he’s a strong willed man in his own right? Can he accept Jack’s punishments? Will he consider that he made the wrong decision? Well, that’s a question for a sequel...if I write it.