A dog’s life
He had been deliberately positioned him there. Every single one of Mitchell’s shipmates had to traipse past him to leave the courtyard. He stood there, on parade. Made to stand humiliatingly with his hands behind his head. Stood like some submissive slave
Each and every single one of Rais’ bunch of fresh slaves was herded out to work .. past him. Walking past his humiliation. Dressed in his indignity by the big double-gates, Mitchell was made to endure every single eye. Gazing on his nakedness. Shuffling past his shame.
In response to these spiteful guards, Mitchell compensated. Again he pulled himself up to his full-height. Arms behind his head, he pushed his elbows back .. pushing out the muscular etched form of a manly chest.
Like he was on parade, standing to attention, proud. He was an officer taking the salute as his men marched past. Powerful biceps bunched by his head, the cobblestone street of his belly sucked in. Manly-magnificent.
He stood erect .. a splendid object lesson to his shipmates. Despite the way these handlers had tried to put him down, he presented an example of what they all were .. an American .. a free spirit, indomitable. A solid statue of muscular defiance. Giving them the resolute reminder. They were prisoners, not slaves. His body was captive. But not his spirit. These bastards would not put him down. They’d have to try harder than this.
Finally there were only the three of them left. But with the departure of the other men, in the courtyard the temperature seemed to rise. More hostile.
“Put them on.”
A bundle of rags landed at Mitchell’s feet.
A few of the sailors had cheered him up as they passed .. smiling, nodding that they understood. Some had given him a wink. These signs lifted his spirits. They were giving him the message back. Captives. They were prisoners. But no fucking slaves! Another had grinned down at his groin and quietly gave him the thumbs-up. Shipmates. Joking with each other still. They were in this together.
It was the sight of young Tom shuffling past, heavy-hearted .. herded out into the heat of the day for a hard day’s labour .. looking scared .. THAT look of concern on Tom’s face was what stuck in Mitchell’s mind. The anxiety was not Tom’s concern for himself .. herded out to work in the dust and the sun. Tom was scared for Mitchell. His features were clearly marked with worry. Concerned what this singling-out of his boyhood hero meant. If the day had started out like this .. Tom’s scared looks seemed to wonder .. what would these animals do to his Mitchell the rest of that stinking-hot day?
“Fucking get on with it. Haven’t got all day.”
Mitchell picked up a string of rags. Sweat-soiled, filthy dirty. Long enough to wrap around his waist. After being exposed and put up on display to humiliate him, he was happy to cover himself with anything. Nakedness did not worry him so much. But made to go around naked with these sadistic guards who hated him for being a right-minded Christian — THEN his nakedness made him feel very vulnerable. And angry. They were stinking rags. But enough to cover his indignity .. though only just. And it gave no protection. A grab from underneath .. nothing stood in its way. But his privacy was covered at least. Mitchell would take that as a plus for now.
“Orders are .. you’re to earn your keep.”
Mitchell had been ordered to get his hands up behind his head again. A slap with a stick across the back of his neck reminded him his “betters” were talking to him. Head down, hands safely away, with annoyance, he had to watch as a stick was stuck under the rags and lifted. The handler cocked his head sideways to get a good view of what was covered underneath.
He’d been naked for a good long time. They’d got a good view of him. But somehow .. now he had the protection of these rags .. the fact that they could .. at will .. take a good look at him .. THAT got to him. It didn’t make sense. But it did make his blood boil.
Then Mitchell reminded himself. He was not going to let this goading get to him. Then they truly had the upper hand. Had him by the balls .. jerking him around. Good advice, a worthwhile reminder .. as he felt from behind another stick slowly travelling up his thigh. Lifting the rags. Getting a free view of his arse.
Those words from the captain’s cabin came jangling back.
“Reckon .. a white-skinned arse like that .. gonna come in for plenty of practice …..”
Rise above it. Give a finger to these cretins, he told himself. If that day came .. when they went past more than having a good look .. if a handler took that into his head .. Mitchell would cross that bridge when it came. But they weren’t going to pull his strings. Get him needlessly worked-up. He wasn’t their puppet on a string. He wasn’t going to give way to his emotions. He was staying in control.
“And strikes me ….. “
The one in front was still getting an eyeful of Mitchell’s cock.
“ … a big fucker like that …..”
He was nodding at the top of Mitchell’s legs.
“ .. gonna take a lot of feeding. Haveta work like fuck to feed a fucker like that.”
From behind a stick smacked against Mitchell’s neck. Hard. Making him jerk forward.
“Shift that arse, pig. There’s work to be done.”