Page 43 of A Flash of Golden Fire

“Yes, Captain,” I sighed, my eyes gone wide.

He started to spank me hard, again and again, mostly in the same spot. Jesus, he was strong. The sound of his palm on my skin alone caused the shame to rise in my cheeks—both sets.

“Do I need to gag you, Rooster, or can you keep quiet?”

Gag me!

“Um… I’ll do my best, Captain,” I said, my poor bottom stinging and aching.

“Right. Hold on.”

I craned my neck to see that he was removing the white kerchief from around his neck.

“I’ll be quiet. I’ll be quiet!”

“Yes, you will. I’m going to make sure of your silence. Open your mouth.”

I obeyed, my heart racing. Was this truly my fate? To be gagged and humiliated by the handsomest privateer I’d ever laid eyes on, purely because I couldn’t keep my hands off my prick?

Captain Martin stuffed the kerchief between my teeth and tied the cloth tight behind my head.

“If nothing else, you’re going to learn to take a hiding like the man you say you are. Now put your hands at the small of your back.”

My eyes bulging and my lips stretched by the cloth, I did so. The captain took the wrist of my far hand and crooked my arm so I was held still over his lap, but he had access to my throbbing arse.

“Now count. I don’t care if I can’t make out what you’re saying, but you might want to keep track. I’m giving you twelve.”

“Twebb!” I exclaimed, the word muffled by the gag.

I’m pretty sure I felt him chuckle before he said, with more sternness that inflamed me, “Ready, Simon Bartholomew White?”

I started to protest, but too late. His hand came down, harder than the last time.

I grunted and counted into the cloth. It sounded like “Ubb.”

“There you go.”

He landed quick and brutal slaps against my not-so-innocent flesh as I tried not to squirm or shout. But that proved hopeless. Maybe that was why he’d told me to count, as at least I could yell out the number. By the time he landed the sixth, tears were escaping, and by the tenth, I was audibly crying and quite chastened.

Captain Martin could give a bloody good spanking, and I’d learned my fucking lesson.

Although my own stand had wilted somewhat with the effects of my punishment, the captain’s was a ramrod beneath me. He untied the gag, hauled me up, and stood me before him.

“Are you going to do as you’re told from now on, Rooster?” he asked.

“Aye, I will. Even though you appear to enjoy taking your hand to my spectacular arse.”

He looked like he was either going to put me back over his lap or burst out laughing. Luckily, he did the latter.

“Well, I can’t deny that. My you are a saucy fellow, backtalking me after a proper hiding.”

“Only pointing out the obvious, Captain,” I sniffed. “But I am sorry for disobeying you, and I will try to do better.”

“See that you do. Your hand is much more useful to me wrapped around the handle of that mopstick than around your cock. And if you are going to be my—” He looked me up and down with the most sultry expression. “—assistant, I plan to make thorough use of you. Now grab that mopstick and get to work.”

“Can’t I get dressed?”

“Oh, Rooster. No. I’m going to enjoy watching you move around this room with a rosy-red bottom and a chastened attitude,” he said with a smile, adjusting his erection and crossing one leg over the other.

---