Damn-stupid of him .. to let them get to him. But the idea revolted him. Up another human being’s arse? Like bullocks did it? These heathens .. depraved. Animals. It sickened him. To the pit of his stomach.
Stretched out over a table-top. Arms strapped down, bent at the waist over the table’s edge. Britches down his thighs. His bare backside stuck out. For all takers. He’d yanked. He’d tugged at the restraints. Not a give, not a thing had moved. Trapped. Inexorably trapped. Enough to drive you out of your mind.
At first he’d frozen .. couldn’t take it in. The thought of it .. the shock .. it had paralysed him. Then indignation had swept over him .. like a firestorm. Battering his senses like a storm at sea. He’d cursed, he’d raged. He’d struggled.
But now the chilling thought had settled on him.
They had him. He was suckered. Ramming a heathen cock up his god-fearing American arse. Britches down, arse out. Strapped down. A chill had him by the balls .. not a thing he could do about it. He could curse them to a living hell. Promise undying revenge. But not a god-damned thing was gonna make a scrap of difference …..
“What say we first warm up that virgin arse? Only right to put some heat under it. Mark the occasion .. first time the pig gets his arsehole plugged.”
The three of them were laughing. Mitchell was going mad, his blood racing, his mind in a sickening whirl. And that damned Rais sat gloating at the far end of the table, staring into Mitchell’s seething face. The marine knew better than to let the pirate get the better of him. But the thought of what that debauched weirdo planned for him had his blood on fire. He felt his heart thudding into the tabletop underneath.
Having his backside whipped first .. was that Rais just putting off that sick evil moment when Mitchell was invaded? A way to wind him up. Toy with his anger. Laugh at his futile temper. Keep him ranting and raving. And still they were going to stick in to him!
Who knew these perverts were up to? But perversely Mitchell felt an uncontrollable rush of relief when he saw Hassan stand up and undo his baggy pants. Not getting his cock out .. not yet. Taking off the leather belt around his waist. Gonna thrash Mitchell’s arse. Putting off the evil moment of debauchery.
HIS belt. The one this Hassan had used on him on the ship. Mitchell’s own belt .. bought in a market with a girl back home. The thick leather belt that had pounded his chest into the mast. Mitchell’s back still ached. He’d kept it, a trophy. That damned heathen Hassan had hung on to Mitchell’s belt. He’d kept it, he was wearing it. And he was going to use it on him again.
Hassan set his gloating gaze on Mitchell’s angry face .. mocking his futility. Then Mitchell saw his gaze travel down the length of his bare back. Instinctively Mitchell felt the heat of his sadistic lust settle on his bare backside.
Sniggering Hassan cracked the thick leather in the air. To get Mitchell’s attention. And make the others laugh. Sneering into Mitchell’s face Hassan waggled the leather strap suggestively. Winding him up. Playing with Mitchell’s emotions. Reminding him how that whipping at the mast had hurt. Getting Mitchell’s blood boiling. Before giving his backside a good thrashing.
And THAT was just a prelude to something worse. Playing Mitchell. Putting off that evil moment. All of them having a laugh .. at his expense. Getting off on toying with their victim’s emotions. Rubbing his nose in the shit of his helplessness. And doing a damn-good job of it.
Mitchell hadn’t had his backside strapped in many a year. His father would take his belt to him when a young Mitchell had lost a sheep to a wolf. But his backside hadn’t taken the belt since that time he was caught frolicking with a girl behind the general store after church. His Pa had never pulled his punches when punishing his son. But that time he had reality meant it – for violating the Sabbath. It had hurt. That time his father had really done his damned best to make sure Mitchell learn from it. Mitchell’s spirit smirked to himself .. he had learned his lesson .. never to get caught again.
But there’d be laughing matter this time. These heathens would beat the hell out of any father’s temper. This Hassan was bulky, he had the weight. Mitchell had felt it .. up against the mast .. force slamming his chest into hardwood .. taking his breath away. Now he meant to beat the hell out of a stinking infidel’s arrogant arse.
“Come, come, Hassan, be fair.”
Rais revelled over the slave stretched out on his table .. his face visibly seething. Rais knew his heart was pounding .. with outrage. And with a good dose of fear. He knew the power behind that belt. His back still burned. With a sadistic lust Rais sat gloating at this damned marine’s total helplessness. He could rant, he could curse. Tug and yank at his restraints. But what the hell was he going to do to stop this? And the prick .. he had to know just that …..
“Not right to hog all the fun, Hassan,” Rais laughed. “You did the pig already. Only fair for Zidan to have its arse first …..”
Mitchell sensed Hassan withdraw from his backside. He found the pair of lieutenants standing either side of him. Instinct sensed them hovering over him. He readied himself. Strapped down, hurting, sweating. Perfect for the pair of them to make a preliminary show of his helplessness. Hammer a few fists into his out-stretched back. But nothing happened.
“My pleasure. Zidan, here …..”
In his mind’s eye Mitchell saw Hassan handing over the belt. “
“Let’s see what a Berber can do.”
So the other lieutenant went by the name of Zidan? Another name for Mitchell’s growing list of heathens to curse.
Suddenly his hair was grabbed, head pulled up. It was that Zidan, the second lieutenant .. losing no time to take over control. He had Mitchell’s head up making him stare into the captain’s face. Pain from the pull on his scalp added to the anger creasing Mitchell’s face. Through gritted teeth and fiery eyes Mitchell glared back. Fighting the pain in his scalp .. giving back his defiance .. a marine not to be messed with.
In response he saw Rais smirking back into his anger. Laughing at the damned stupid marine that dared think he could defy him. Sat there mocking Mitchell’s helplessness. Revelling at the prospect of having his captive raped. It was like a light had gone on in the pirate’s eye. Gloating over Mitchell’s predicament. Strapped down, defenceless. About to dish out another dose of blistering pain .. lighting up Mitchell’s bare American arse.
A flash of fury burst in Mitchell’s head. Madness at getting trapped like this. An animal frenzy. Pure rage. Bursting with an overpowering anger to wreak revenge.
But then the grip in Mitchell’s hair slammed him face down into the table again.
“Zidan, let’s see a proud Berber best an Arab.”
Through the ringing in his head Mitchell heard the damned pirate laugh.
“Let’s hear the infidel pig squeal.”