Mutiny Release

"Good. Let us go into dinner. I will tell Fritz Franklin you will be delighted to attend him tonight. You will act as if you are. And you will act convincingly. I know you can do it; that's why I have schemed to give you this opportunity. I care for you. I may be one of the few persons who truly does—certainly more than either of your natural-born parents do."

* * * *

I stood, naked, arms outstretched and restrained at the thick pillars on either side at the foot of the bed in Colonel Franklin's bedchamber, writhed rather more than I needed to, and gave the officer the sounds of distress he expected, as he strapped my back, buttocks, and thighs. He didn't take too many liberties with that, and my a-bit-over-the-top reactions were enough to make him go very hard.

He dropped the strap and crouched behind me, licking at the welts he'd raised. He licked down my body and knelt behind me, his hands spreading open my buttocks cheeks, and his face pressing into the crevice. My reactions were more genuine now when he was eating out my channel and had snaked a hand around to stroke my cock.

He stood up behind me, grabbed my hips, and coaxed me to move my legs back, so that my rump jutted out and I hung on my arms from the bedposts. I cried out as I knew he expected me to when he started forcing his cock into my ass. And then I moaned and groaned and whispered my "Yes, yes, yes"; "you're so big—too big. Be good to me"; and "Yes, yes, fuck me. Fuck me hard!" phrases as he buried himself in me and pistoned me hard with his cock. He was good. He knew what to do and he did it. His cock ring was scintillating as it dragged along my passage walls, making me genuinely pant and grow as well as I would for any man inside me. But he didn't reach far enough into me to fuck me at my soft core, and I was still numb from the life-changing events of the day.

As he fucked me, he stroked my cock, and I gave him an ejaculation before he reached his own climax. I knew it was important for his feelings of being a man that I came for him and came often, so I managed another one before he finished, doing so by running those who could and did fuck my core through my mind—Dinwiddie, Jerry, Owen, managing to bring the urge to explode up with memories of writhing under each of those, and accomplishing two ejaculations. The colonel obviously was pleased with his virility.

After he released me, he pulled me up onto the bed and we kissed and explored each other's bodies. He was a military man, hard-bodied and handsome, so that was no problem for me. Then he followed nearly the same progression the lieutenant had the previous night. He reversed himself on my body and we sucked each other's cocks. Then he took me in a side-split and then standing on the carpet at the foot of the bed and crouching between my spread legs and fucking me while he watched the expression on my face. I gave him a show of being ravished by a master.

We slept between fuckings, rather longer each time than the lieutenant had given me. I left him snoring contentedly.

It was nearly dawn, but I didn't go directly back to my bedchamber. I went to Lord Dinwiddie's room, pulling back into a recess in the corridor when I saw James Evans, in an open silk robe, leaving Dinwiddie's chamber. When he had padded down the hall to his own bedroom, I silently opened the door. Lord Dinwiddie was on his back on the bed, dozing, but still half awake. He had his hand on his cock, which was half hard. An arm was gathering Charlie close into his side. Charlie's legs were spread open like he couldn't close them. His hole was gaping like he'd just taken the two men at once, which he probably had. His body was trembling, but he had a dreamy look on his face.

I came over to the bed, shucked off my dressing gown, and lowered myself between Dinwiddie's legs, brushing his hand away from his cock and taking the shaft in my mouth. When he was hard again, I moved up his body, settled on his cock, taking it deep inside me, and began to rise and fall on it. He was in deep, in my soft-core center. We both moaned, rocking together, giving and receiving pleasure. When he had come, I lowered my chest on his. He turned his face down to mine and we kissed.

"Yes, I think so," I whispered to him.

"You think what?" he asked.

"I think we'd both enjoy it if you got a cock ring piercing. A thick one, like Owen Smythe has. It has a metal bead that moves freely around the ring, doing interesting things to his partner's channel."

He snorted, appreciating both the signal that relations were good between us—that I was good with going to India—and the dig that the lieutenant was competing with him, that I had options in sex partners—that there always was the possibility of mutiny from me.

"You will never get it as good from any as you do from me," he whispered.

"Perhaps if you get the cock ring," I answered, stubbornly.

His answer was to gently push me over to the one side of him and to roll over on top of Charlie, grab the young man's wrists, forcing his arms over his head; penetrate him, as Charlie arched his back and yelped; and begin fucking him in long slides of the thick cock. Charlie turned his face to me, a dreamy, mixed pain and passion look in his eyes, and his tongue flicked out of his mouth.

"Watch," Dinwiddie turned his head and said to me. "I could be doing this to you, but I'm not. I'm doing it to Charlie. What you and I have doesn't include commitment. It's all the hotter for that."

I lay there, locking eyes with Charlie as Dinwiddie fucked the young man good, probably for the third or fourth time that night, and smiled. We understood each other perfectly. We both thrived on the threat of mutiny, and we both relished the game.

The earl had been right. I now was an unrepentant and irredeemable whore. Just how big was this Maharaja of Sagala's cock, I wondered. Could I hope that Indian men had two of them?

Chapter Five: At Sea

He was on top of me, inside me. He was heavy and burly, not fat, but big and muscular. His knees were between my thighs, my legs spread and bent, my feet flat on the mattress, my pelvis raised to the angle of his thrusts with pillows under the small of my back. My back was arched and I was thrusting up with my hips, working with his thrusts, trying to pull his cock into my soft core, trying like hell to zoom up into the stratosphere of sexual pleasure. He was a hunk and rough. I wanted to have supreme sex with him. A couple of more inches and I would be taking him into realms of cock milking that he'd never been before. I wanted to shoot to the moon with him.

He was leaning over me, looking down into my face with his ugly-thuggish-arousing face, his eyes flashing fire, his exclamations lewdly obscene. I was a whore and he was going to break me, make me feel him more than any other man. He was going to split me, shred me. He was trying, but he wasn't quite there. His hands were on my throat, choking me, rhythmically, controlling my breath, making my eyes bug out.

"Get it, get it. One more inch!" I croaked breathlessly, egging him on to that last little bit until I went soft and spongy for him, and the muscles of my passage walls would kick in. Just a bit more . . . but then I felt him tense, grunt, and release his seed. He apparently wasn't pleased he'd been told he wasn't long enough.

I was flooded with disappointment as the first officer of the ship taking us from Southampton to Bombay, India, climbed off the bed from between my legs. He was a tall, handsome, muscular stud of a man with a dusky, something foreign-to-me countenance. Very mysterious, and hung, but just not quite bull enough to reach my center—although when I'd agreed to lie under him I had thought he could do me royally.

I remained in place, my legs spread and bent, my pelvis raised, my hole gaping open. He was a thick-cocked man—just not quite long enough. He was the thickest I'd had that day. We were a week out of port and, by agreement between Lord Dinwiddie and the ship's captain, although I slept nights with either Dinwiddie or the colonel, I was assigned a small cabin every other day to take either the other men of the mission or, for a price, the ship's officers and other interested men booked on the voyage. I understood there was a woman prostitute assigned a cabin under a similar arrangement, but I never saw her.

The voyage could be quite boring. This was a not atypical entertainment arrangement on the high seas, subject to the ship's captain's interest in such services. And, although the clients were generally of a lower class than I was used to and, in general, were in better sexual trim than those I serviced at the Marble Crescent Club, I was not taking more men in a day now than I did at the whorehouse, and at the Marble Crescent Club, I could count on only one day a week off my back on the bed. Also, here when the sun went down, the door to my sometimes cabin was closed. In London, my time was the time of any important man who could free his schedule and loosen his purse strings to fuck me.

Of course there were Lord Dinwiddie and Colonel Franklin, who seemed to be vying with each other to dominate my time in bed. Conversely, there wasn't Lieutenant Smythe, at least yet, seven days on the seas, which frustrated me no end. As for men who could reach into my soft core and really set me off, only Lord Dinwiddie of the men who were laying me managed that. I'd had hopes for the ship's first officer, but he didn't quite get there.

Still, as I watched him pull his pristine white officer's uniform on, I could tell that he had been satisfied—that he already had dismissed the hint that he wasn't long enough out of his mind. And he confirmed that.

"That were very nice. You be a lay like we rarely get on this run. Well worth the money. A real treat you be."

I so wanted to say that I'd had high hopes for him and for him to come back when he could grow his shaft another inch and I'd show him what sexual fireworks felt like. But I didn't. Still, it would be a long run, and he did me better than most, so I complemented him. "You are a master cocker. You are the best I've had on the voyage. You should not have to pay, but, alas, I am not the one who owns my time."

"If I can get you alone out of time some evening, would you take my cock from want of it?"

I swallowed hard, but what the hell. "Yes, of course. You are a stud."

He smiled and went to the door. I had gained an important fan on this ship, which was sovereign territory as long as it rode the high seas. When he'd opened the door, I saw that someone was waiting there—beyond the sailor assigned to mark who came and went and thus who had to pay what for the privilege, a third of which went to me. Dinwiddie pocketed a third and the captain the other third.

Just as Lord Dinwiddie had hinted to me, the East India Company mission representative, Horace Walpole, who had been so shy and so difficult to bring to enough arousal for a climax the evening I serviced him at Entworthy, had gone India native and become more comfortable in that as soon as the ship set sail from Southampton. The first time he'd come out of his cabin, he was wearing a kurti, a long, collarless white cotton shirt, over dhoti pants, a billowy cotton skirt that was twisted into pants, and a Sikh turban. And he looked exotic—Dinwiddie said he looked Indian—and very much in his comfort zone.

And now he was standing outside my door, waiting for the ship's first officer to be finished with me and waiting his turn. I had known he had made an appointment to attend me in this cabin. The only thing I did in this cabin was let men fuck me. Walpole and I hadn't had anal sex before. When I saw he was going to visit me, I assumed it was, at the most, for a blow job. I didn't think it was for an anal fuck.

I was wrong. I had, despite Lord Dinwiddie's warning, thought he was just an old, scared rabbit, wanting more than he was capable of managing. I was wrong.

My eyes went big and I choked down a moan as soon as I saw him walk in. He was carrying a smooth-wood dildo the size of a gourd. That it was a penis shape was obvious. The bulb on it was huge.

He entered, closed the door, and walked over and sat down on the side of the bed.

"I understand that your name is Sean now," he said, with a smile.

"Yes," I answered, my eyes still on the wood dildo, which he carefully lowered to the bed by my waist. I started to move my body into another position than the ship's officer had left me—my pelvis raised, my legs spread and bent, and my hole gaping—the male whore's position when he wasn't on all fours with his tail waving in the air.

"No, stay in that position, please," he said. He put a hand on my belly and slowly moved it down into my bush and to my cock, which he stroked a couple of times slowly, and then down to my balls, rolling them a couple of times too, and, finally, as I begin to pant lightly, down and under. He entered me with his middle finger. He sought, and found my prostate, slicked from the deposited cum of the ship's officer, with the pad of his finger. I licked my lips and moaned. I reached down with a hand to hold his in place, but he brushed it away.

"No," he said. "Give yourself to me entirely." I moaned again as a second finger invaded.

At Entworthy I had taken the initiative. Now, where he was more comfortable, he was taking the lead—slowly and sensually.

"I'm afraid I didn't do you justice before. But you weren't naked before. I didn't know what a beautiful young man you are. I'm glad you've changed names. We can start this all over again." He took what looked like a thin, dark-leafed cigar from a pocket in his kurta, along with a box of matches. "Do you smoke?" he asked.

"Not often," I answered.

"This is a special form of cigar. Special to India, of course." He put the cigar in his mouth and lit it. He only took one puff before offering it to me, his fingers continuing to stroke my prostate. "Would you like to try it? You'll find it interesting."

"If you wish me too," I answered. I inhaled a puff of the smoke and before I could exhale, he leaned over and had his lips on mine, holding the smoke in, which swirled up into my sinuses. I didn't gag on it. The sensation was pleasant, sensual. He pulled his lips off mine and put the cigar between my lips again. I inhaled more smoke, and he took my lips with his again to make the smoke swirl up into my sinuses. I felt tingly all over. Suddenly, the fingers he had inside my hole felt as thick and as long as the cock the ship's officer had had inside me. I felt myself go hard and my cock to elongate.

I felt his fingers come out of me. They were covered with cum that the ship's officer and another man had put inside me before Walpole had come. I watched him slather the cum over my cock head, which was extra sensitive to the touch, arousing me incredibly. My cock lengthened an inch as I watched and started to throb.

"Fuck, what's in this cigar?" I whispered.

"Ultimate pleasure," he answered. He took two puffs himself and then gave me another puff. I started to tremble, feeling more aroused through my body than I had felt since the lieutenant had fucked me.

"That's incredible," I murmured, moving my fingers to my nipples and pinching them. Giving a low chuckle, Walpole moved his lips to my right nipple and sucked on it. The fingers he had in my hole penetrated me again and he started to move them, in and out. My pelvis moved with them. All of the others who had covered me in this cabin had taken me quickly and left. Walpole was working me to a frenzy before putting his cock in me.

He moved his lips off my nipple and took a couple of more puffs on the cigar. He gave me a couple more puffs as well. The room was going blurry, but he stood out prominently in my view. His features were mellowing. He wasn't ugly any more. And his eyes had gone dreamy. I moved a hand under the hem of his kurta and to his crotch, feeling him inside the gauzy cotton of his dhoti. I could feel him hard, and in stark contrast to how hard it had been to achieve any semblance of a hard cock of any length when we were at Entworthy, now his erection was quite decent.

More shared puffs, and I was zooming up the heights of sexual want.

"Fuck me. Fuck me," I murmured. Now, in contrast with the evening at Entworthy, I had no doubt that he could do it. I looked down at my cock, which was longer and thicker than it had ever been—or so I was thinking. Everything in the room was outsized and floating around.

"The cigars. They are drugged," I whispered.

"Of course. It's a sexual aid in India. I did not perform well with you before. I will perform well with you now." He lowered his mouth on my cock and gave it suck. I came in a flood of cum down his throat. He pulled off, took another puff on the cigar and offered it to me. I was still holding and slow stroking his cock through the dhoti material. He was bigger than before. I unwound the material at his waist, pulling it away from his cock and stroked him flesh on flesh.

Shared puffs on the cigar again. He lifted up the wooden dildo so that I could see it. It looked twice as big now than it had been when he brought it into the cabin.

"I am going to penetrate you deep with this now," he said calmly, matter-of-factly. "I don't think any man is this large."

I whimpered. "Oh, God. Oh, fuck." But I didn't beg him not to do it.

"I understand that you have had a man's fist inside you before. If not, we should not do this. Can you confirm you have?"

"Yes," I said, truthfully, although I said it with reluctance and more than a bit of fear.

He lowered it and I felt the bulb at my entrance. How could I possibly take something that large, I wondered.

But then I did. The head had plopped inside me and he was moving it inside me . . . deep . . . deeper . . . deepest. It was inside my soft-core zone, my center was going spongy, my passage was grabbing at the dildo all along the channel, my muscles rippling over it. The bulb was huge. He slowly twirled it inside me. I panted, clutching at his shoulder with one hand, squeezing his ever-lengthening cock with the other.

I had not gone flaccid with my last climax. I had another ejaculation and then another one. My hard cock was reaching for the ceiling and spouting like a fountain.

Walpole rolled over on top of me, pulling the material of the dhoti away, shoving the hem of the kurta up above his belly. He extracted the wooden dildo and replaced it with a long slide of his cock. His cock felt as thick and as long as the dildo had been. He reached my soft core, and my wall muscles went into overdrive, making love to his cock.

He cried out in ecstasy and rode me and rode me and rode me. We both fired off left and right, ending up with him still on top of me, still panting heavily, both of us, at least, totally sensitive to both of us losing our hardness.

We were drained of cum.

"That is some amazing shit," I murmured when I was able to find my voice.

"You will love what India can give you," he responded, "and India will love you."

"God, what you did to me . . . I can't. . . . That was . . . incredible."

"India is a magical world. You will love what India will open to you. What you can do with your passage muscles is magic too. I didn't want to leave you with my failure that first time. I wasn't feeling well then. I wasn't in my element."

"You're in your element now," I said. "But we can't do this too often. I don't think I could survive it very often."

"So, you don't want to do it again now?" he asked, giving me a smile.

"No, but I would guess you could do it again now." I regretted how dismissive I'd been of him before.

"Yes, I could. If it helps with your thoughts about this India mission, I understand that the Maharaja of Sagala has access to this drug."