Page 64 of A Flash of Golden Fire

I was wrapped in strong, soft ropes and attached to a hook in the ceiling with one leg folded so that I could barely keep myself from spinning with my unbound leg. My arms were crossed at my back, and the captain had spent a good deal of time driving me into a state of desperate need.

“Oy, Captain. You can’t just ignore me. Look what you’ve wrought!” I said, nodding and staring at my rampant prick, which jutted up good and pink and ready for more.

The captain did look for a moment, sighed wistfully, and went right back to his book.

Fucking bastard.He knew it drove me mad when he pretended to ignore me, and I was already on the edge of reason. I tried to think of other things because begging and pleading would only amuse him.

The place on my torso, where my old scar had been, looked just like the rest of me now. No one could tell there had been anything there at all. The moles and freckles had returned, too, which boggled my mind. I wasn’t sure how I felt about the transformation, to be frank. That scar had been with me since my mother’s death, and now I had nothing to remind me of her.

I didn’t think anyone on board, except the captain, had seen the scar in full light, so no one was likely to note its absence. Faraday had sworn to the crew that my hands had been mangled and blistered, which was true. But I denied the truth, saying that Faraday had probably been uneasy about what he’d seen, and that had coloured his true perception. I told them that the captain had applied a healing balm to the skin, which had resolved the injury in no time.

I wasn’t quite certain if they believed me, and perhaps it would have been wiser to simply admit I didn’t know why the burn had gone away. But I was already drowning in uncertainties, and if that mademefeel anxious, I could only imagine how the others might feel about the situation. I figured they’d be glad to latch on to a simple and ordinary explanation, as we all knew Faraday could be dramatic at times.

I struggled in the ropes and groaned with desire and frustration, glancing at the captain to make sure he noticed. I made a good show of my desperation and was rewarded when he closed his book and stood.

“Do you know what I plan to do with you, my little red cock?” he asked, playing on the slang for rooster and referencing my randy appendage.

“I wager the intention will be despicable and filthy.”

“You do know me well,” he said and smiled. “However, to begin with, I’d like to show you some items that I confiscated from a Chinese vessel that we looted several months ago.”

My ears perked up. I had heard that the Chinese held different attitudes about sexual practices than the uptight British.

The captain took a key from a hidden compartment in his secretaire and walked to the large wood chest in the corner of the room. He unlocked the chest and lifted the top on its silent hinges. He took out a polished wood box, about ten-by-ten inches square. He carried the item reverently in both hands over to where I was bound. He winked, held it up with the open edge facing me, and lifted back the lid.

Lined with red silk, snug sections contained a selection of objects in strange shapes, made with the same wood as the box itself and polished to a similar sheen.

“What on God’s great earth?” I exclaimed. “They’re lovely, but…what are they?”

Captain Martin gave me a knowing smile and raised his eyebrows. “I’m just about to show you. And, well, demonstrate at least a few.”

He lifted the smallest of the items from the box and held it before me with a devilish look in his eyes. Shaped in an oval, like the others, and about the size of an egg, the thing, whatever it was, gave me a strange feeling in my belly.

“What do you mean, demonstrate?” I asked.

“Shush now.”

I kept quiet, or tried to.

He removed a few of the strange objects and laid them out on the bed. I was beginning to have an idea as to their use. I’d spent a bit of time over the course of my life searching for things that might fit up my backside and be retrievable. Carrots had proved impractical after a most terrible incident, of which I won’t go into detail. I’d learned that whatever went in there needed a handle of some sort, or my hungry arse would try to swallow the whole thing.

These objects were shaped like the dummies the nursemaids used for babies to suck when their mother’s teat wasn’t available, except they were bigger and most likely made for a different orifice on adults.

Captain Martin came toward me with the smallest of the five objects.

“You’re not going to stick that thing up my arse, are you?” I asked, sounding more excited than nervous about the idea.

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do, Rooster. But if you don’t stop asking me questions, I’m going to have to gag you.”

I held my tongue, knowing that he was in earnest.

He held the egg-shaped item in front of me, turning it slowly, so I could see the object clearly from all angles.

“This is what I like to call a shit stopper, although it can hold other things inside a body, as well,” the captain muttered, applying oil to the object whilst I watched and squirmed.

I was glad I’d had a healthy bowel movement earlier in the day. Now that I had access to a fancy water closet, my habits were more regular which proved easier to be clean and prepared for anything.

Such as the scandalous Captain Dinesh Martin of theArrowpirate vessel—oh, excuse me—privateeringvessel, determining to slide an egg-shaped piece of wood up my bottom for sheer entertainment value. I should have been prepared for this after the soap incident.

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