Rais was piling it on. Going for the humiliation. Answering back Mitchell’s insolence .. returning his defiance .. by showing him up. For all that show .. putting on a display that Rais could not get to him .. Rais would not break his spirit .. the pirate was out to prove otherwise.
Helplessness, not nakedness. That was the tool. Weakness, not all that muscular audacity. He WAS a slave. He had nothing to his name. Not a rag. Not a shred to cover himself. No dignity. No SAY.
A thing. Not a man any more. If Rais ordered him that hard-on .. THAT was what he got. If the slave willed it otherwise .. FUCK IT! He had no say .. he got a hard-on. A slave!
Powerlessness, that was Rais’ trick. This slave had taken him on, drew his sword on the ship. And again the prick had just called him out. Thinking himself an equal. Thinking he had that right.
NO right. No control. An object. Subject to Rais’ whims. Held in the clutch of his angry clenched fist. Total power. Absolute control. Publicly this infidel slave had dared take Rais on. In public, watched by his shipmates, Rais would give his reply. Helpless. Powerless. A thing. No say. A slave.
Rais had had him called out that morning. Put Mitchell up for show – a naked display while his shipmates broke their fast. Stood butt-arse-bare, in submissive slave mode, hands behind his head, as his mates were paraded past .. herded out to work. Later his rags were ripped away, his nakedness whipped at those stakes. His mates from the quarry watching his bare arse thrashed. And since, he’d had to go without clothes back in the prison yard. He’d have thought he’d got used to this by now. His shipmates had seen enough of him like this.
But now Rais was piling it on. Mitchell was illuminated in a circle of light. A good dozen oil lamps dramatically lit him up. Stood tied to the blood-stained stake. Naked again. But this time on full show. Lit up like those visiting light shows back-home. Focus of all attention in the darkness.
It had felt awkward back in the quarry .. forced into nakedness .. against his will. But Tom’s words had heartened him, said the crew had seen the manliness in him. Reassuring words. Standing up to these bastards. Even forcibly made naked. Even if stripped against his will.
But throwing a full hard-on? Forced into this boner .. against his will? Theatrically illuminated at the centre of light within the darkness. Like on stage, all eyes on him. Everyone ogling his fully erect cock!
“Get him hard.” The idea had shocked him. Ordered by Rais. Forced into this boner. Not done to show off his manly prowess. Done to show him up. Done to show his worthlessness. A symbol of Mitchell’s powerlessness. Not a damned thing he could do to stop it. Laughing at the futility of all his defiance. Rais could order him into anything. Power over his body. Power over his life.
When a handler had gone down on his knees, cord in hand, Mitchell had kicked out. The idea was just too gross! But hands quickly grabbed at his ankles, pulled his legs apart, held him firm. He’d bucked, he wriggled, he’d writhed. Fighting the hands that were making to tie leather cord around the root of his cock. No way!
From behind the stake, snaking between his head and an upraised arm, a hand slithered. Slinking in through the free space. And around his throat. The forearm pulled back. Throttling him. Crushing his skull against the whipping post. Mitchell shook his head. He did whatever he could. But the arm ruthlessly pressed against the front of his throat. It was cutting off his air.
Mitchell fought. Every pounding instinct in his body battled against this attack. He had to breathe. He needed to breathe. But the pressure just kept on pulling back. His body wriggled .. best it could. Pressure built in his head, the pulse in his ear throbbed. Like mad, he shook his shoulders. His head swung wildly from side-to-side. But the pressure was relentless. Mitchell fought .. but uselessly. Gagging for air. Mouth wide-open .. a fish out-of-water.
Then suddenly the arm was gone. Mitchell sucked in air for all he was worth. Wincing as a final hard tug in his crotch made him gasp. It took only a second to realise. Rais’ men had carried out their orders. Binding up his cock. Pressure was rising. Rais was making him hard.