Shores of Tripoli Ch. 08

Ben was taking Billy on an Oriental carpet on the deck of the captain's cabin in the Black Falcon. The position he was using was one that Billy knew was the Kamasutra position of the Reed, Billy's pelvis arched up to Ben's crotch from shoulders and feet on the floor, with Ben between his thighs and with a strong arm under Billy's waist, holding him up in an arch, as he was fucking him. Billy was sure that Ben would have no idea what the position was called—he would just do it as was natural—and because he knew this had been one of Billy's favorite positions.

Just as he wouldn't have known they were in the position of the Reed, Ben wouldn't know that he transitioned to a position known as the Stem, where he was on his knees but otherwise upright, and Billy was spread before him, weight on his shoulders, legs running up Ben's torso, and Billy pelvis lifted, with his buttocks resting on where Ben's thighs met his groin, while Ben mined his channel. This was a deep penetration position and Billy was panting hard and groaning deeply.

Ben had slapped Billy around a bit at the beginning of their lovemaking. Trying hard to remember, Billy wondered if Ben had been this physical with him two years earlier when they had sex in Boston. The more he thought about it, the more he thought that was so. This was when Billy wanted to feel controlled and punished for the guilt of having sex with men. That was so long ago. He no longer felt the guilt. He now was looking for more affection.

He wondered if he had felt the pain of the blows in the same way then that he felt them now. Somehow he didn't think so.

He also wondered if Ben would fall into the seven-position routine that Mahmud had thought was natural and right. It would have both amazed and amused Billy to have such a different lover from Mahmud vindicate Mahmud's beliefs in that regard. He wondered if he should tell Ben that his positions had names for them already.

This was the fourth position Billy could identify—and that Ben probably couldn't—that just came naturally to Ben as a dominating position. It had started with Ben close behind Billy as they stood, naked, in the center of the cabin—the black mastiff, Freedom, watching them warily from his bed in the far corner of the cabin. Ben had one arm slung across Billy's chest, with his hand cupping Billy's chin and pulling the young man's head painfully. The fingers of his other hand were roughly forcing themselves between Billy's buttocks cheeks, and nearly lifting Billy off of the deck with the strength of upward thrusts. Billy knew there was no art in this; this just was where Billy was standing when Ben could not control his desires and needs anymore. He had invited Billy to the bed, but had not let Billy take a step in that direction before he was upon him—and inside him.

Billy was groaning and whimpering. It had been some months since he'd been worked like this. Mahmud had been too sophisticated in his sexual techniques to be this rough. When he was sufficiently aroused, Ben released the chin hold and commanded that Billy bend over, while standing, at the waist and grab his ankles. With his hands locked on either side of Billy's waist where the buttocks dipped in the waist, Ben thrust inside him brutally and began the fuck.

As he did so, he had growled. "I know this is a way you like it."

Billy almost murmured that this was known to Mahmud as the position of the Wolf—although Mahmud took it at a more sedate pace—but Ben would not have understood, and this was not a moment for talk. This had transitioned into what Billy knew as the Greyhound, which was just a sophisticated word for what Ben also knew it to be: the doggy fuck.

Billy was not to know if Ben was headed for seven positions, or even knew of some of the more refined and athletic ones. During the fourth position, the Stem, Ben had arched over Billy's torso and his strong hands had taken a choke hold on Billy's throat. One, two, three chokes, in concert with three rhythmic short strokes inside Billy's ass with Ben's cock. Then a release on the throat, but a deep thrust of the cock. Repeated.

Billy gasped for air after the third release of the chokehold, only to find himself swallowing air and sputtering at the feel of the cock thrusting deep inside him.

After the third cycle, Billy coughed and rolled away from Ben. He lay there, gasping for several seconds, his hands going to his bruised throat. "I'm sorry, I can't," he mumbled, giving Ben a plaintive look.

Ben's own look was one of shock and disappointment. "You say you can't? You could before. You begged for punishment. You couldn't come without it. You've changed."

"I hadn't realized. But I think you're right—that I've changed. It's been some time since . . ."

"Two years. Can you have changed that much in two years?"

"I think when you're younger, you change more quickly . . . maybe?" Billy could tell that he wasn't saying something that Ben wanted to hear.

"I must always have been older then, because I haven't changed."

That statement was like a thunder clap in the cabin, the sensation of the closing of a heavy, oaken door.

After a few minutes, Ben rose from the floor and walked over to a stand with a flask of wine on it and a few crystal glasses. The top of the stand was configured to keep the glasses in place despite the rolling of the ship, which was sailing, Ben had said, west toward Algiers, where the foreign pirates were gathering until something was settled in Tripoli.

He poured two glasses of wine and walked over and handed one to Billy. Then he tossed off the wine in the other glass and returned to the stand for a refill. Without looking at Billy, he said, "You are probably very tired. You may rest on the bed."

It was spoken more as a command than a suggestion or indulgence, so Billy picked himself painfully off the Oriental carpet and went over to the bed, took a drink of the wine, put the wine glass down on the bedside table, and then laid down on the bed on his back. But he bent and opened his legs, giving Ben what he hoped was an enticing invitation to come to the bed too.

Meanwhile, Ben had walked to the door of the cabin, opened it, and said something to the pirate standing guard outside. He walked over to the table with the charts on it then and studied those—or pretended to—without looking at Billy. Nothing spoken transpired between them either, as the minutes ticked away, the tension building until it was broken by Freedom noisily farting and huffing in his sleep in the corner.

The danger in the room was that Ben still was hard. Rock hard. Billy knew something had to be done about that.

"Ben, please. Come to the bed. Do what you will with me. I am yours totally—still." Billy moved up on the bed, his shoulder blades elevated on the pillows, and opened his legs wide, dug his heels into the bedspread, and rolled his pelvis up. He moved his hand down and spread his entrance with two fingers. If Ben would just turn his head, he would see Billy's entrance, willingly open to him.

Ben wasn't given time to respond to that invitation, nor did he look to the bed. There was a knock on the door to the cabin, Ben spoke a gruff "Come," and standing in the doorway, trembling, was a beautiful blond young man. Younger by nearly three years than Billy's now nearly twenty-one years, and smaller and more delicate of build than Billy ever had been.

"Come, stand in the center of the room, Dieter. He looks young, doesn't he? As young as you were when you first came to me."

Billy's heart sank. That was probably more telling than his failure to respond to a punishing fuck as he once did. He no longer was as young as he once was.

Still trembling, long, thick, fluttering eyelashes cast at the deck, the young man shuffled into the room and stood in the center, on the Oriental carpet.

Ben circled him, a dagger in his hand. The young man was wearing silken knee britches, held up with a scarlet sash. It was obvious that he wasn't a sailor or a pirate. That only left captive from some conquest of a merchant vessel.

His skin was an alabaster hue—smooth, boyish, but well toned, pampered. He was sending mixed signals, which were more clear to Billy, who had had used several occasions to do this himself, than, Billy knew, to Ben, the arrogant self-possessed pirate chief. The innocent and boyish aspect Dieter was showing seemed false to Billy. He was overdoing it a bit. There were flashes of purpose in the eyes darting in snatches to take in the room, assess the atmosphere, and locating Ben as the man of power—the one able to give favor. Billy knew Ben would not be able to see this. Billy himself only was able to do so, because he had had to do this himself. Indeed, he had done so with Ben the first time, being brought to him as a disposable captive, knowing he wanted Ben's cock inside him, but knowing that Ben needed to see him as hesitant and vulnerable for his own pleasure. A pirate, like a general, needs to conquer, to take something from the other by force. Something told Billy Dieter was fully aware of this—and that Dieter was a survivor—and, Billy could tell, a user.

Billy held his breath. He felt like his life was being relived—that Ben was making him watch what they once had had but that now seemed to be lost to them.

"Dieter here is a very recent prize of mine," Ben said to no one in particular, as he came up behind the young man and embraced him. The young man whimpered as Ben lifted his chin and took the young man's full lips in his for a brief kiss.

"You remember when you were brought to me as a prize—and what I did with you, don't you, Billy?"

Billy answered with a "yes," but it didn't seem like Ben was listening for an answer. Rather, he was sending a signal of the event to come.

"I debauched you to within an inch of your life. I reamed you to twice your channel width. Again and again."

Ben was looking at Dieter for a response. There was a sob, not more. Nothing to assure Billy that Dieter even understood English.

In any event, Billy knew Ben wasn't bragging. That was exactly what he had done that first time. Billy remembered Ben being amazed that Billy was still able to walk after it was over—that apparently not being a requirement for Ben's ritual with young captives. That marked the start of their long arrangement. Billy had been able to take it, and Ben had needed that sort of taking. Total pillage and victory; nothing less.

"I acquired him from a German merchant ship making a run for Egypt. It didn't get there. Dieter isn't a virgin. He was servicing men on the merchant ship, I am sure. He says no, but I cannot believe he would have been left untouched. And my men got to him before I discovered him. But no man will master him as I will do. Do you not believe that, Dieter?"

Dieter acted like he didn't know he was being asked a question. Billy now thought otherwise. There was a certain calculation in the eyes that betrayed him.

"Has any man who has ridden you had the cock and balls I have? Has any man ridden you for three hours or more?"

Billy looked to Dieter for signs that he thought this an exaggeration. Billy knew it wasn't. Dieter just gave Ben a wild-eyed look, indicating now that he knew he was being addressed and that he was expected to provide some response, but at least wanting to leave the understanding that he had no idea what the American pirate had said—but that, whatever it was, it frightened him.

Ben's massive erection would have been a bit hard to ignore, though.

Billy watched, seeing his early life flashing before his eyes, his own subterfuge when being taken by Ben the first time—of his fight, when subterfuge failed him, to survive the hours of brutal taking and his surprise when he had managed to do that—his desire thereafter to have this from Ben each time. Billy had fought for as long as he could, which wasn't long, and which only seemed to energize Ben more, and which ended only with Ben fully encased in Billy and Billy realizing there was nothing of him left to defend, only an ordeal to try to survive. And then the ordeal transitioning to a heaven like he'd never known before, of a cock throbbing deep inside his gut and flooding him again and again.

Dieter evidently was taking another route. He showed Ben that he accepted the pirate chief as his master and the inevitability of his taking by lowering his eyes and giving a small, studied sob.

As it often had with Billy, the session started with Ben holding the diminutive Dieter close to him from behind and moving the blade of the dagger under the scarlet sash, cutting it, and then carefully cutting the silken breeches off Dieter's legs, not even creasing the soft flesh underneath. Still holding the young German painfully close to him with one arm, Ben pumped Dieter's pert little cock with a fist in a progressively faster beat until the German youth ejaculated with a groan and a moan.

Ben laughed when Dieter came, and said in a low-pitched, smug voice, "We will have it all now just in case anyone before me has neglected you in any way; in case anyone before me has left any part of your experience unmastered. This will be your total taking, and you will long remember it—and regret not having it when a lesser man than me is fucking you—if, of course, you survive it. I care neither way. You were as good as dead when you were taken captive—and would have been earlier if I had not pulled you way from my sailors."

There was no obvious reaction from Dieter on his possible demise in this process. Billy took this as a sign that the German youth retained hope he could control the situation.

Billy remembered, with a start, that Ben had done the same to him, said the same to him that first time of theirs. Once again Billy had the impression that this all was more for him—more a mourning of the change between them—than for either Dieter's undoing or Ben's pleasure. He took it as an assurance that Ben wouldn't kill the youth in front of him.

Ben pushed Dieter onto his back on the Oriental carpet then, and with a knee pinning the young man's sternum to the floor, worked his channel with a thick, greased wooden dildo, as Dieter groaned and cried at the indignity and claimed pain.

Billy knew this was a mercy, though. Ben was conditioning the young man's channel to take the thick, long, hard phallus still rising up from his reddish bush, looking more angry, more demanding than ever before. Still, Billy wondered how such a small figure as Dieter was ever going to be able to manage Ben. He had, however, and he was not any larger in stature as Dieter was. He knew that Ben was doing this for him, really, showing him what they'd had, taunting him with it. There was nothing that either of them could do about that, though. Time had moved on. Billy was older now—and had acquired other experiences, more refined tastes. He didn't need what Ben gave to take his pleasure to the heights now. It was Ben who had not grown up.

But there also was nothing that Billy could do for Dieter, even though the young German looked over at Billy with pleading eyes during the initial fucking that almost—almost—was convincing. Despite the subterfuge, Billy knew that Dieter would have to endure almost more than he could take. However, Billy well remembered the passion and pleasure of it too. He half expected that Dieter, like him, would be begging for it—again and again—before the session was over.

Unless Billy missed count, when the actual fucking started, there were only six position changes before Ben first ejaculated, so there was no verification of Mahmud's seven-position theory. But what came closest to upsetting Billy in this more than an hour of coupling was that Ben was using more sophisticated Kamasutra positions with Dieter than he had used earlier with Billy.

To stop all wondering, after working the young man's ass with the greased dildo, Ben had lifted Dieter and slammed him down on his back on top of the maps on the chart table, pushed his legs between Dieter's thighs, and leaned down and taken Dieter's mouth with his in brutal kiss. Dieter had pounded on Ben's chest with his small fists and writhed underneath him, showing signs of fight now—sensing, Billy was sure, that this was what Ben wanted from him—and Ben had risen off him, backhanded him across the mouth and laughed.

Taking Dieter's throat in a choke hold with one hand, Ben presented his cock to the young man's hole with the other. Dieter screamed and tore without effect at Ben's choking hand with both of his hands as Ben's cock worked its way into the tight channel. The struggle continued with Dieter ineffectually fighting Ben until Ben's cock was fully saddled. Then Ben took his hand away from Dieter's throat and hovered over him, the heels of his hands pressed on the desk at either side of Dieter's torso. Dieter was silent, his body unmoving, other than his heavy panting and his whistling of a continuous, low whimpering sound.

"There then, little one," Ben said in a low, hoarse voice. "You may have had other men's cocks in you, but none like mine. And none can dominate you as I can. Now we begin. Whatever has come before, you will remember this as the first real time. Remember me throbbing here deep inside you as the watershed between any semblance of your innocence and your total taking by a real man."

They held there, as Ben had done for me, for more than a full minute, Ben fully saddled and Dieter panting and whimpering, fully possessed. Dieter shuddered and moaned as, at length, Ben moved his cock, just a fraction of an inch, in and out, in and out, deep inside Dieter's gut.

Then Dieter cried out and struck at Ben's chest again with his little fists as Ben began to pump harder and with broader strokes. The pumping went on, though, and Ben laughed, pleased by Dieter's attempt at a defense. Dieter shot a small load out of an undersized cock, and then just collapsed under Ben, his arms out flat on the table and his face turned aside, staring at Billy, as Ben pumped on. At the moment of Ben's ejaculation, Billy felt his own suspicions completely vindicated in the flash of victory he saw in Dieter's eyes. And it was a victory he was flashing at Billy. Billy understood then that Dieter had seen Billy as the danger in the room. The competition.

"There. It is done. Marked as mine now," Ben said, full of satisfaction.

Again the little flash of victory telescoped by Dieter's eyes in Billy's direction.

Ben pulled off Dieter's docile body and went over and poured himself another glass of wine. Dieter didn't move, laying askew on the table as Ben had left him and panting shallowly. Billy thought Ben the fool then. He would see Dieter's position as unvolunteered, but not total surrender. Billy saw it as a mark of the young man's victory. And Billy understood it as a victory over him as much as over Ben.

"Now that there is no reason to fight me anymore, nothing to protect, we will start the fucking of our little German playmate in earnest—when I've been fortified a bit by the wine."

Billy took that as an indication of the depth of Ben's displeasure with him and with the situation both found themselves in, a displeasure he couldn't voice, because, at the base, Billy understand—and Ben must have, at least almost—understood that this all was in grief over the changed relationship between Ben and Billy. It had little to do with Dieter—at least for now. Billy knew Dieter would work hard to change that. And he feared that Dieter was clever enough to win.

There was no reaction by Dieter to Ben's statement of trials to come. Billy thought this was a misplaying of the German's hand, but he was also a bit dismayed that Ben seemed too blind to the game being played here to catch the gaff.

When the fucking session started in earnest, Ben began by having Dieter in the position of the Bamboo, with Dieter on his back on the Oriental rug, with Ben crouched between the young German's thighs. One of Dieter's legs ran up Ben's torso, and Ben had Dieter's buttocks raised on the side but pushing it up with a knee. In this position one wall of Dieter's channel was getting the most attention. The other side of the channel then had its turn when Ben reversed sides. Dieter became increasingly involved in the fuck, not taking long either to show that he wanted what Ben was giving him but also that he wasn't the naïve young near virgin that he had exhibited.