Shores of Tripoli Ch. 01

"Yes, yes. Punish me," Billy whimpered.

"Wanted it all along. Teasing me, you were," the man growled as he fucked. "Walkin' that stretch of the track, you were offering it. Just leading me on, maybe not wanting to give it to the likes of me. I should . . ."

The man was choking Billy with one hand and he'd pulled a knife out from somewhere and was brandishing it over Billy's face. Billy came again in a gush.

He collapsed and the man resumed his pumping, breathing hard, probably near ejaculation himself now. Billy's eyes followed the knife, moving down, toward his belly.

The man had asked him if he was going anywhere; if he was expected anywhere. In a flash of recognition, Billy's adrenalin kicked in. He gave a sideway's heave of his pelvis, sending the man off balance and causing him to slice into his own arm with the knife. The man gave a howl of pain and his attention went to his arm. Heaving out from underneath him, Billy lashed his leg out, kicking the man in the balls, and then he started running through the forest.

When he thought back on the encounter later, it was true that the man had gone too far, but the incident on the road had told Billy that he not only liked taking cock but that he liked taking it rough.

* * * *

All of this—not just the escape, but the thrill of what went before—was flashing through Billy's brain as he stood, three weeks later, watching Sam, the schoolmaster, chopping wood. Maybe it was the red hair that turned Billy's remembrance on to the ruffian with red hair and linked that with arousal. Whatever it was, standing there, watching Sam's muscles undulating and his red, shoulder-length hair, not pulled back now as it usually was, moving in the breeze and the motion of his chopping, naked to the waist, Sam felt himself going hard. He wanted him. He realized that's why he'd been coming around.

Before he'd started doing that, he'd passed this way by chance one day and heard strange sounds coming from Sam's cottage. It sounded like maybe the schoolmaster was in trouble. Billy had come to the open door and then shrank back in the shadows. The schoolmaster was fucking another man on his bed. The man was on his back, his legs spread and his knees bent. His feet were flat on the mattress but were lifting up on the balls and then lowering again on the heels in the rhythm of the fuck. The man's wrists were tied to the slats of the headboard above his head, and this may have been what Billy had found to be the most arousing.

The schoolmaster was kneeling between the man's legs, his knees under the other man's buttocks, lifting the man's pelvis to a cock that disappeared, lengthened, then disappeared, then lengthened, the red bush of the schoolmaster mingling with the golden bush of the other man at the downstroke. The schoolmaster's hands were gripping the other man's knees and moving his legs in and out in the rhythm of the fuck. When the man's knees were bowed out to the limit, Billy knew that the schoolmaster's cock was deep inside him. This is when the man would arch his back and moan deeply, followed by a sigh as his knees were brought closer together and the schoolmaster's buttocks pulled back. At various stages of the coupling, the schoolmaster's torso arched down so that the men's faces were mashed together and each tried to bury his tongue deep in the throat of the other.

"What is it that you want, Billy?" the schoolmaster suddenly asked, burying his ax head in a chunk of wood and looking directly at Billy. He was panting slightly.

Billy was panting slightly himself, his need and want painted on his face.

"Why is it you've been coming around? You don't need extra tutoring. You're already the smartest in the school and will be leaving within a month and going into an indenture with a printer, I hear. It's not schooling you want. I waste of a first-class mind, but I wasn't asked for my opinion. What is it then?"

Billy stood there mute for a moment and then he blurted it out. "I saw you with a man. There in your cottage. I know what you do."

"Is it that then, Billy?" Sam asked with a sigh. He hesitated for a moment and then he said, "Is that what you want from me, Billy—what the man you saw me with was getting from me?"

Billy stood mute, eyes cast down. But he didn't say no.

"Tell me, is it the cocking you want? You must tell me."

Billy almost wavered then. It wasn't what he wanted to hear—that he must ask for it. He felt himself going soft. It couldn't be his decision. But, visions of those man's knees moving apart and together flooding his brain, he wanted it so badly that he gave a slight nod of his head.

"Have you been with a man before, Billy? Do you have any idea what it would be like to have a man's cock inside you?"

"Yes," Billy murmured—but loud enough for the schoolmaster to hear.

The schoolmaster sighed again and pulled a wet rag out of a bucket of water beside him and rubbed it over his chest, the back of his neck, and into his armpits.

"You'd best come inside then," he said in a quiet voice. "You're of age now. I guess you can have a mind of your own. I can't say it isn't something I want too."

And then it wasn't Billy's decision anymore. Sam had moved across the yard to stand in front of Billy, His arms encircled Billy. Controlling him. His lips found Billy's and crushed them, Sam invading Billy's mouth with his tongue. Billy opened to him, but he let Sam control the kiss. Billy felt himself going hard again. It was good now. It would be fine. Sam, taller, heavier, and more powerful than Billy, picked Billy up in his arms and slowly walked toward the cottage.

Billy was on his back on the bed, his legs spread, his knees bent, his feet flat on the mattress. Sam pushed his knees under Billy's buttocks, raising Billy's pelvis to him. The bulb of Sam's cock was resting at the rim of Billy's pulsating entrance. Sam's fists gripped Billy's wrists, holding his arms up and to the sides as, his torso hovering over Billy's, Sam looked down into Billy's eyes.

"Please," Bill murmured.

"Please, what?"

"The strapping to the headboard. That too, please. As I saw you do with—"

The schoolmaster looked exasperated. But after a brief pause, he said, "If you like," rose from the bed, came back with leather bindings that he used to strap Billy's wrists to the headboard, and resumed his position between Billy's thighs.

"It will hurt at first. But then it should be fine. I will be gentle."

Before Billy could respond, Sam had covered his lips with his own and was pushing inside with his tongue. Billy shuddered as Sam's cock pushed inside him an inch. Misunderstanding, Sam disengaged the kiss and lifted his head.

"Just a bit of pain. I promise."

"Please," Billy hissed. "Fuck me. I've had a man inside me before."

Sam lowered his face for a controlled kiss again, and Billy opened his mouth to him and flicked his own tongue inside Sam's mouth. A few more inches, and Sam's cock head rested at Billy's prostrate. He rubbed there slowly, again and again. Billy's channel opened to him and Billy, still trapped by Sam's kiss, began to pant.

"Please, your hands. My knees."

Sam gave a low laugh, but he gripped Billy's knees in his hands and pushed the young man's legs apart as he slid deep inside him. He then slowly pulled out as he brought Billy's knees closer together.

Billy cried out and ejaculated. And then he thrust his pelvis hard up into Sam, taking Sam's cock deep inside him, thrusting again and again against Sam's cock.

Sam's head went up and his face took on a look of surprise. "You have done this before."

"Fuck me. Fuck me hard," Billy commanded. "Punish me. Make me feel it." And then he turned his face to the wall in frustration. He wriggled his buttocks and thrust again at Sam's pelvis, bringing the cock deeper inside.

Sam began to stroke in earnest. Deeper, harder, faster. Billy's own hips fought to keep up with him in the counterstrokes. The younger man's legs were being pumped back and forth at an increasingly faster pace. Sam was lost in the fuck, murmuring how sweet Billy was, how long he'd wanted to do this. Pledging his love, pumping in a frenzy, lost in the fuck.

"Yes. Fuck me. Punish me. Give it to me! Make me hurt!"

Sam went stiff and stopped stroking.

"What was that you said?"

"About what?"

"About punishing you?"

"I've been bad. I need your discipline. I am your misbehaving student, your prisoner. Beat me. Put me to the switch."

Sam rolled off him and walked over to the mantelpiece and turned around. He looked achingly beautiful to Billy. And there was that red hair. Keeping the arousal alive. Still, Billy was confused and frustrated.

"How have you been bad, Billy?"

Billy was at a loss for words. The best he could do, after a moment of silence, was say. "Last month. I didn't come to school. I wasn't sick. It was just a nice day."

"Are you saying you don't want me to make love to you—that you want me to punish you? That you see sex with a man as justified punishment?"

Silence. After a bit, Sam continued, "I don't assault men, Billy. When they come to me, it's as equals. It isn't for me to punish or control them. They must want to fuck as equals. I make love, Billy. I don't rape. You asked for the binding. So did the man you saw me with. It isn't something I need."

There was nothing Billy could say. He suddenly felt naked and defeated.

"I think you'd best go now, Billy," Sam said as he came back to the bed and unbound Billy's wrists. "And you need not come back to class. You've learned more than enough. I hope you have learned this, now, too. Sex is good as equals, even between men. It is wrong if it must be taken from you. I hope that you will learn that someday. You are a highly desirable young man, Billy. I've wanted you since I came here as schoolmaster. But what you think you want, I can't give."

Sam then scooped up his trousers and left the cottage. He was chopping wood again, and didn't look up, when Billy left.

It hadn't taken Billy long to find men—older men—who would give him what put him into greater arousal. First the printer his father had unwittingly indentured him to—giving the man full control over Billy's life. Satisfying Billy's need to be fully controlled in the fuck. And also a businessman of the town, prominent, but with a secret that made Billy melt with want.

* * * *

Sitting in the wagon beside Ned on the headland north of Shernhaven, Billy was anxious to get on toward his goal. But first there was the fare to pay. While still kissing, Ned, first—Ned had to assert control and intent first—and then Billy, each unbuttoned the other and took the hand measure of each other's cocks. Although there was time, there wasn't a great deal, and Billy wasn't doing this for pleasure, so he quickly bent over and lowered his mouth to Ned's engorging cock. The farmer's son leaned back in the wagon seat and moaned his pleasure as Billy, without complete success, tried to swallow the cock whole.

Ned fucked Billy from behind bent over the open tail of the wagon, as the horse snorted its desire to get on with the journey. In a shared interest to get on with it and over it, Billy wiggled his butt and used his channel muscles to massage not only great length out of Ned, but a fairly quick ejaculation as well. At Billy's request, Ned had pulled his arms straight away from the sides of his body and had bound his wrists to the wagon bed sidings with rope so that Billy was forcibly spread-eagled for the fucking.

For another fucking, Ned offered to pick Billy up here again on Sunday afternoon when the wagon would be heading for Boston again with produce for the Monday morning market, but Billy just thanked him and said he had other arrangements for a return to Boston. He did say, however, to Ned's delight, that perhaps they could repeat this arrangement at some point in the future.

After Ned drove off, happy and satiated, in his wagon, Billy walked carefully and quietly toward the largest of the houses on the headland to the north of Shernhaven. He gave the house a wide berth. It was lit up with whale oil lamps as a demonstration of the wealth of the occupants, no doubt a purposeful message to the town below of the family's prominence. Walking along the edge of the cliff, he went into the far reaches of the garden, looking down, first, into the town through the masts of the ships in the boatyard at the base of the cliff to trace the passage he had to make, and then out to sea. There was more than one ship out there, at sea, toward the south, with lights twinkling. His mind was on two of the ships, both of which he prayed were out there. Having taken his bearings, Billy circuited around the house again and then strode out onto the lane that served all of the cliff-top houses of Shernhaven's leading citizens.

This was not a time for furtive movement now. Now he had to appear to belong here and to have someplace legitimate that he was heading to.

Two hours later, he had made his way down into the village, across it, and then up onto the headland defining the southern end of the harbor town. He walked openly toward the lighthouse, taking it as his beacon and as his goal should anyone ask. But when he got there, he faded into the underbrush just outside the cleared circle around the old lighthouse and, eventually, to the cliff overlooking the sea.

He had been here before, but it was still difficult to find a path that would safely lead him down into the sheltered coves at the edge of the sea and the base of the cliff. More than once he had to retrace his foot- and handholds, having followed a false path that led to a dead end and sheer drop to the churning surf below. The sounds of the waves and the seagulls wheeling overhead were mesmerizing. When he was sure he'd found a path he'd used before, he tarried for a moment and looked out to sea.

Two ships were standing off the coves at the base of cliff, near enough for Billy to see their white sails and to count their masts to assure himself that these must be the two ships he expected, but far enough out to sea not to run aground in this treacherous area of the coast. The ships weren't near each other. The larger of the two was between where he stood and the inlet leading past the lighthouse and into the Shernhaven harbor. The other one was standing further south.

Billy could see that the one farther away already had longboats in the water, starting their journey to land. They were carrying no running lights, but were merely dark splotches on the water, discerned in the moonlight only with great care. They were riding low in the water, and Billy could see a mass of figures overloading each one.

The nearer, larger ship, was just starting to lower boats. The sound of men calling out guidance and curses at the difficulty of the work slid in underneath the keening of the seagulls overhead and the pounding of the surf.

By the time Billy had made his way down to the cove and positioned himself behind a large boulder of water-pocked rock and jagged edges, boats from the two ships were nearing the beach. Their journey was intersecting on the beach nearly parallel to where Billy was hiding himself.

The longboats from the smaller, more distant ship, Billy could now see were packed with silent, dark figures. The boats from the larger ship were seemingly empty other than the men rowing, driven by a man growling curses and threatening slackers with bodily harm.

One of the overloaded boats foundered in the surf, and there was a scramble to pull its occupants, who didn't seem to be making much of an effort to save themselves, to safety. Billy could hear the ominous rattling of chains. The crews from the larger boats leaped out of their now-beached longboats and went to the aid of the other craft, a second of which was also foundering in the merciless surf. From the sounds of wailing from the floundering figures in the surf and the curses of the crew members, Billy could tell that not all of the passengers were being saved.

The coxswain of the larger ship's longboats seemed to have taken charge of the situation. He cut quite a figure in the late of the longboat lantern. He was dark—either heavily tanned or an Arab—and wore a bright green vest over short brown breeches. A scarlet sash circled his waist into which two pistols had been shoved. He was bearded and there was a black patch over one eye.

Billy knew how important it was to lose as few of the floundering passengers as possible. The figures were dark sinned and nearly naked. He knew that these would be slaves being brought in from Africa via the Caribbean. He was witnessing their transfer from one ship to the other and knew that by the morrow or the next day, the survivors of this landing would be displayed on the auction block on Woodman's wharf, near Boston's town market and docks. Those bidding on these slaves would be turning a blind eye to their primitive conditions and weakened, dazed states. In one of life's incongruities, whereas the trade of shipped slaves was now outlawed in Massachusetts, the resale of slaves in the state previous to the law's enactment was permitted. Those trading with these lives in the new day would be conveniently assuming the slaves hadn't arrived surreptitiously in the night.

So engrossed was Billy in watching the exchange of the goods, cases of rum and bolts of textiles and baskets of gleaming doubloons, from one ship for the slaves from another that he cried out in fear and surprise as a strong hand gripped his shoulder from behind.

"I believe you will be coming with us," a growly voice rang out.

Billy had been discovered by the commanding coxswain of the larger ship's longboats.

* * * *

A multitude of heavily callused hands backed by lustful grins, many of them nearly toothless and with suggestively winking eyes, pulled Billy up out of one longboat while a moaning ebony human cargo was handed up out of other longboats along the side of the great, black-wood ship. Billy looked up to the heavens at the sails already being unfurled for flight as the coxswain, with the help of two other burly and shirtless sailors, manhandled Billy across the deck. Those they passed whistled and leered and made rude sucking sounds with their mouths.

Billy was bustled through an arched door in the superstructure at the stern of the ship and down a corridor. The coxswain rapped on a sturdy door at the end of the gangway and listened for the summons from within. When it was given, Billy was propelled into a commodious cabin with large windows at the stern of the ship. The cabin was paneled in polished, dark wood. Oriental carpets covered the floor. Lighted sconces, covered with glass chimneys, were placed at intervals along the walls, revealing leather-backed and -seated arm chairs, heavy tables covered with maps and navigational tools, and, against one wall, a large four-poster bed.

In the center of the room was a tin bathtub, full of soapy water. And out of the water rose a giant of a man. He was well over six feet and heavily muscled from pecs to calves. He had dark, reddish hair, a rich auburn color with blondish-red highlights. The hair on his head was caught at the nape of his neck with a gold ring. The chest was broad and covered in curled auburn hair; he was deeply tanned; his waist, while thick, was made thus by plates of solid abdominal muscles rather than fat. The thighs were heavily muscled, as were the calves; his biceps popped with pronounced curves; his forearms and the knuckles of his hands were covered with curly reddish-brown hair. Piercing black eyes bore into Billy as he was thrust into the room. The face was of chiseled angles, the nose hooked, but in a commanding way. His torso and thighs showed slash marks of numerous battles, but from the look of him, it was apparent that he didn't lose battles.