Page 15 of A Flash of Golden Fire

“Because I’ve told you to, Mr White. You may be a man—and I’m very glad you are—but I want you to bend to me. Do as I say, please.”

“But…”

He sighed. “Do you like me, Simon Bartholomew White?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then show me you can be obedient. Because that would make me like you even more than I already do.”

I stared at him, understanding now that this was some sort of test. He wanted me to prove I would obey him in sexual matters. In truth, I very much wanted to, in more ways than simply abstaining from self-pleasure. But the indefinite timeline worried me. I supposed I’d have to trust him not to make me wait too long for some relief.

“All right,” I said. “But I should hope for some sort of a reward if I do as you ask.”

He only smiled and gave a curt nod, appearing satisfied but not committing to anything on his end. Putting my filthy clothes back on and preparing to leave with a raging stand and muddled mind was a lesson in humility.

“Here,” he said, and handed me my knife. “Wouldn’t want you to come to any harm.”

“Hmm. What if my bollocks go blue and fall the fuck off, in the state you’ve left me?”

He did me the courtesy of laughing at this exaggeration of my predicament.

“I suppose that’s a risk I’ll have to take. Goodbye, Mr White. Try to keep that bloody goat under control.”

*

Iwent back to my hammock in the berth, with the stink of other men all around me, which solved the issue of the stand that wouldn’t go down. But after a while, I became frustrated and felt more alone than ever.

Without the distraction of Captain Martin, things on theArrowwere as dull as dishwater.

I made sure the animals had food and drink each day and were soundly contained, but otherwise there was nothing to take my mind off wondering when Captain Martin would summon me and release me from this diabolical torture.

On the seventh day of my purgatory, I found myself seated at the stern of the ship, legs hanging through the rails, taking swigs from a jug of rum I’d nicked from Martinez when he wasn’t looking. The weather was pleasant, and the rest of the crew were either napping in their hammocks or working on various repairs. The benefit of being invisible on a sailing ship was that you were never asked to do any work, of which there was plenty, and that nobody cared if you buggered off to drink yourself silly whilst moping about the state of your sorry existence.

I’d had the gall to hope for an upgrade to my lowly situation, and perhaps I would get one, but I had no idea how long the captain required to contemplate his decision. He had already taken more time than I’d expected. I lingered in a state of distraction. The rum soothed the edges of my discontent, and the view from my current perch was nothing less than spectacular.

Seagulls dipped and soared on the wind, shrieking their aggravation at each other. I leaned despondently against the railing and scanned the ocean’s surface for anything of interest, almost hoping to see another vessel. Anything that might take my mind off of Captain Martin. Now and then I’d catch sight of a dolphin or a seal in the distance. At one point, I saw what I was convinced was the fin of a shark, but perhaps that was the drink. I lay on my back and looked up at the sky, snugging the mostly empty jug under my arm. The broad expanse above me turned all different shades of pink and orange and purple before the colours faded and I found myself gazing up at a blanket of stars.

The wind had died, and the ship rocked peacefully beneath me. I had no idea how long I’d been laying there. The nights were as warm as the days here in the southern seas, so I wasn’t cold. And even if I’d been chilled, the drink was a simmering heat inside me.

I thought about my encounter with the captain, and wished I was still in his rooms. But no, he’d cast me out for his own amusement.

Part of me was annoyed and frustrated with the situation, of course. Another part of me felt inflamed by the thought that he wanted me to give over control to him. Control over my most private desires. Desires that he had an interest in possibly satisfying at some point.

I’d even taken the extreme action of giving my body a once-over with a cloth and cold water each morning, so that at least I’d be somewhat clean when I was summoned to his rooms. Some of the others made fun of me for being so fussy, but I told them to piss off and take their filthy selves elsewhere. I had to admit that keeping clean in this way did make me feel better. But my hair was still a disaster and looked nothing like its natural colour.

At the moment, I wanted nothing more than to slip my hand under the waistband of my trousers and stroke myself off. Most of the men were below decks by now, the ones up top were at the bow, keeping a lookout. But Captain Martin had forbidden me to do so. Was he truly making me suffer for his own enjoyment? Would he summon me back to his rooms to make sure of my obedience? Then again, perhaps he was deceiving me and keeping me in a state of self-imposed restriction for the amusement of pretending it had any other purpose than to frustrate me indefinitely? What if he’d forgotten about me and my prick entirely?

I sighed, running the tip of my finger along the skin at my hip, feeling my cock start to fill, and wondering how Captain Martin would possibly know if I tossed one off. Was the man a telepath? I didn’t think so. He was awfully smart and capable, but I didn’t think he had those kinds of powers. My visit to his rooms had been exciting, and our relationship held promise. But I was twenty-two years old. I was used to taking myself in hand at least a few times a day, if I could find a quiet corner. Even on a crowded pirate ship, there were places to hide and plenty of occasions to slip behind a box of stores and make quick work of a spill.

I slipped the very tips of my fingers under the waist of my linen pants, feeling my prick swell with the anticipation of a good going-over. At this rate, I was torturing myself because I didn’t see myself disobeying him. Which was confusing because why should I be beholden to such a man?

He was the captain of the ship that had taken me on, but that didn’t give him such intimate rights over me. Was there some secret pirate code—oh, excuse me—privateercode—of which I was unaware? I grinned at the thought.

We hereby decree that any man under the age of twenty-five when brought aboard must pledge to be abstinent, even from his own hand, unless the captain of the ship gives him explicit permission to— No, that was ridiculous. What fellow would agree to those terms?

Well, I hadn’t exactly told him to go fuck himself, and perhaps I should have. Giving over that control was a tantalizing idea; to afford him so much power over my body. The thoughtof that kind of submission excited me, for certain.

However, I’d not anticipated being ignored for so long. For all I knew, he’d decided I wasn’t worthwhile. For God’s sake, holding back for this long couldn’t be healthy. I was at my wits’ end.

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