Stealing the Wind, Chapter Two

Here’s Chapter Two of “Stealing the Wind,” my paranormal pirate erotic novella.  Warning:  This chapter is unabashed and explicit M/M/M loving with a bit of dubcon, so 18+ only, please! 

Enjoy! -Shira


Chapter Two:

Taren awoke in a large four-poster bed hung with heavy drapes.  His body felt strange, as though he were a babe being rocked in his mother’s arms.  A slow rolling that in his sleep-clouded mind, reminded him of waves on the ocean.

We’re at sea! 

The jolt of excitement at this realization was tempered only by the next revelation:  he was completely naked beneath the linen sheets.  He tried to sit up, but his head spun and his vision clouded once more.

He struggled to remember how he had come to be here aboard the ship.  The vague memory of serving dinner resurfaced, along with a jolt of heat to his groin.  He remembered the pirate captain—the deep blue of his eyes, his rugged features, his large hands…. 

“Good!” came a bright voice from the end of the bed.  “You’re awake.  Captain’s been asking about you.  Said you’d been sleepin’ like the dead.  Wanted me to make sure you wasn’t.  Dead, I mean.  Said old Shin gave you a bit more of Doc’s sleeping draught than he should.  He was mighty angry with ’im, too.”

Taren started at the voice, pulling the sheets up over his chest.  He still felt strange, as though he’d been sleeping for days.  Perhaps he had.  He needed to learn more about why he was here, why he had been taken from the inn.  About the captain. 

“What ship is this?” he asked as his eyes focused on the newcomer, a waif of a boy with shaggy black hair and freckles.

“The Witch,” the boy said, his face lighting up with obvious pleasure.  “The Sea Witch.  Captain Rider’s pride ’n joy.”

“Who are you?”

“Fiall.  Practically raised aboard the Witch from a baby.  And you’re Taren.”

Taren blinked in surprise to realize that the boy knew his name.

Fiall giggled.  “Didn’t think I’d know that, did ye?” he asked.  “’Course I would.  You being the Captain’s new woman ’n all.”

“Woman?  I’m not a wo—”

“Aw, I don’t mean nothin’ by that.  It’s just what we call the Captain’s favorites, is all.  You know,” Fiall lowered his voice conspiratorially, “the special ones.  The ones he keeps for himself.  There’s only one other.  Bastian is his name.  You’ll be meeting him soon, I expect.”

“Special ones?”  Taren’s head was fuzzy, his brain slow.

“The ones that sleeps in his bed,” the boy answered with surprising bluntness.

“Oh.” Taren’s cheeks burned with embarrassment.  It was one thing to imagine what it might be like to find himself in the captain’s arms, but it was quite another to learn that everyone aboard the ship knew about it.

“It’s nothin’ to be ’shamed of,” Fiall persisted.  “I’d be right happy to be in your shoes.”

“You… you’re not a…?”

“Nah.  I’m just the cabin boy.  Besides, Captain don’t like ’em young.  Not that I’m young, mind you, I’m eleven years old now,” Fiall said with obvious pride.  “Maybe in a few years….”   His voice trailed off and Taren guessed that Fiall realized he’d probably said too much. 

When Taren remained silent, Fiall added, “I brought you some food.  Captain says you’d be growin’ more if you ate better.  It’s not much.  Some bread and cheese.  We’ll get more supplies when we put into port in a week or so, seein’ as we had to leave pretty fast on account of you.”

“On account of me?”

Fiall smiled.  “Seems like the captain took a likin’ to you.  Tried to buy you from your masters, but they weren’t havin’ nothin’ of it.  Somethin’ about you being ‘special’ or what have you.  Captain got a few of the men to bring you aboard.”

That explained what had happened on his way back across the courtyard.  But “special”?  Taren wondered if his former master had other plans for him.  Maybe he’d planned to sell Taren to a merchant ship because of his rigging skills?

What difference would it make now?

“I’ll leave the food on the table for you,” Fiall continued, undaunted by Taren’s silence.

“Thank you, Fiall.”  Taren was rewarded with a crooked smiled.  “Before you leave, can you tell me where I can find my clothes?”

Fiall blinked in surprise, then laughed outright.  “You really are a one, aren’t you?”  When Taren continued to look confused, Fiall said, “You don’t need no clothes down here.  Later, maybe the captain will let you out on deck.  If he decides you’ll be needin’ them for that, well, that’s up to him.  Nobody will touch you without his permission.  The crew all know who you are.”

And with this pronouncement, Fiall closed the drapes around the bed.  A moment later, Taren heard a door closing.  He was alone.

No clothes?  It wasn’t as if he were uncomfortable being naked—he’d worn rags that barely covered him before.  Still, he couldn’t help but feel vulnerable, especially when he thought of the captain.

Captain Rider.  What did the man want with him?  Taren wasn’t so naïve as to not understand what it meant to be Rider’s “woman.”  And after the other night, well, he was pretty sure that whatever that job entailed would be more pleasant than anything he’d been asked to do at the tavern.

Look at yourself! Thinking that being bedded by the captain might be enjoyable.  He’s a man and so are you.  What good can come of it?

He’d known men who’d preferred the company of their own sex, of course.  But it wasn’t right.  It wasn’t natural.  At least, that’s what he’d been taught.  And yet Captain Rider’s touch had aroused him in a way that he’d never been aroused with a woman. 

He brushed these thoughts from his mind.  His empty stomach was far more demanding than his half-hard cock.  He’d eat his fill and explore the cabin.  Later, he could think about his predicament.  What more could he do, anyhow?  There was no place for him to escape if they were at sea, and even if he could escape, where could he go?

He ran his hand over the soft sheets and wiggled his toes beneath the blankets.  At least here, he’d be fed and sleep in a real bed.  Would it be so terrible to stay?


Taren awoke to the sound of the cabin door as it closed.  He’d dozed off in a seat by the large aft windows, his full belly and the gentle rocking of the boat better than any lullaby.

“That’s a sight for sore eyes,” came the rumbling voice of the captain.  He walked toward Taren, his eyes taking in Taren’s naked body curled up in the chair.  “Makes me wish I hadn’t left you alone quite so long.” 

Taren swallowed hard and did his best to not look afraid.  Because, no matter what he told himself, he was afraid.  He just wasn’t sure what he was afraid of.

“Do I frighten you, Taren?”

“I… I… yes, I suppose you do.”  Taren hadn’t planned to admit his fear, but there was something in Rider’s expression that told him he’d not suffer for telling the truth.

Rider smiled.  “No need.  I’ll not be hurting you unless you disobey me.”

“What do you want from me?”  Taren knew his words were too bold, but he couldn’t help himself. 

Rider only chuckled.  “They said you were special,” he said.  “I daresay they were right.  So what is it you do?”


“Do you read and write?”

“Yes, sir.”  Taren had never thought much of it.  He knew the other servants at the inn could do neither, but it wasn’t as if his master there had taken advantage of his skills.

“Anything else?”

“I can rig a ship,” Taren said with obvious pride.

“Indeed?”  This appeared to surprise the captain.

“If you would give me my clothes,” Taren continued, “I can help out on deck.”

This time Rider’s laugh was deep and throaty.  “In time, perhaps.  For now, the ropes are well manned, and none are in need of immediate repair.  My plans for you are far more… urgent.”

Taren inwardly cursed himself as his cheeks grew hot once again.  But it was not just his cheeks that responded to Rider’s words.

“Stand up.”

Taren hesitated, afraid to let Rider see his traitorous erection.

“I said, ‘stand up’, boy.   You’ll not be making trouble so quickly with me, will you?”  Rider’s expression was stern, but Taren was sure he’d see a spark of amusement in the other man’s eyes.

Taren did as he was told.

Thankfully, Rider’s expression was inscrutable.  He neither smiled nor laughed, nor did he look at Taren with disgust.  “There is no shame in your desire,” he said after a moment.

“But I’m a man.” 

Taren hadn’t meant to speak the words, but he couldn’t help himself.  “One of these days, boy,” Saren had admonished on many an occasion, “I’ll whip you for that lip.”  The old man never had whipped him, and for that Taren had been grateful.

“Aye.  That you are.  And a fine man, at that.” 


“Who were your parents, boy, that you fear the touch of another man?”

“I never knew my parents.  Saren of Laxley took me in as a baby.  Fed me, clothed me, taught me to read and write, and gave me my name.”

“And the old fool sold you.”  Rider shook his head.  “What faith do you put in the morals of such a man?”

“I was his property.  What choice did I have but to put my faith in—”

Rider frowned and wrinkled his weathered brow.  “A slave is free to choose in whom to place his trust, even if his body belongs to his master.  A good man will not mistreat a slave or sell him to pay for his own stupidity.”  Taren just looked at the floor, unsure what to say. 

“You will be treated well here, Taren of Laxley.  If you obey me, I will care for you, feed you, and clothe you. You will pay me with three years of your life, and then your freedom is your own.  If you choose to leave after that, I will not stop you.”

Taren’s lips parted in shock.  Three years and he’d have his freedom?  He could barely comprehend it.  He’d lived his entire life knowing that he would be an old man before he’d be able to pay off his indenture.  He was nothing more than a slave.  And yet this man—this pirate—was offering him freedom in return for three years of his life?

“You would set me free, if I choose it?”

“Yes.  I would.  If it is your choice to leave.”  Rider studied Taren with a look of patient understanding.

“And if I refuse you?” 

Taren knew his words were far too bold for someone in his position and he wondered if the pirate would beat him for his audacity. 

“If you refuse, I’ll return you to the inn.”

Taren wasn’t sure if Rider were lying, but he was certain he didn’t want to find out.  What were three more years of servitude compared to his freedom? And would it be so terrible if the pirate were to use his body for pleasure instead of putting him to work on deck?  His face grew warm at the thought of such “service.”

“I will submit to you.  I won’t fight you.”

At this, the pirate laughed and shook his head.  “I told you, boy, I’ll treat you well.  But I’ll not have your submission without your soul.  Tell me what you want. If you wish me to touch you, you must say it.”

Taren released a slow breath.  He knew his body had long ago betrayed him, but he understood that Rider needed him to speak the words.  He also knew he needed to say them for himself.

“I… I wish for you to touch me.  I want you to touch me, as you did before.”

A gentle smile lit Rider’s face.  “Come, then.” 

“Where are we going?”  Taren’s heart pounded against his ribs as Rider offered him his calloused hand.

“You’re not going to sleep out here tonight, are you?  The floor is mighty cold.”

Does he mean for me to sleep in his bed?  The thought both thrilled and terrified Taren.

Rider led him into the bedroom, where a small oil lamp provided a warm, orange light.  Pulling back the drapes of the bed, Rider said, “Climb inside.”

The bed was not empty.  Its current occupant was a young man who Taren guessed was a few years older than he: a beautiful young man with shoulder-length red hair that reminded Taren of the sunset.  His eyes were a bright green, his face dotted with freckles.  He was completely naked and stretched out on the sheets like an exotic cat, every inch of his skin visible in the lamplight.  Taren could not force himself to look away.

“This is Bastian,” Rider said knowingly, no doubt noticing the desire on Taren’s face.

Without warning, Bastian reached for Taren and pulled him fully onto the bed.  He wrapped his arms around Taren’s waist and kissed him, his tongue snaking its way into Taren’s mouth and probing it with eagerness. 

Taren was dizzy with the contact, the heat of their bodies pressed together almost more than he could bear.  It was as if he were entranced, held spellbound by the feel of Bastian’s skin against his own.  Taren had never kissed anyone like this, even the girls who had offered themselves to him.  He moaned as he felt Bastian’s hard cock against his own.

Taren gasped as the kiss broke.  He was bereft, wanting more and yet afraid to ask for it.

“You were right,” Bastian said as he slid lithe fingers over Taren’s smooth chest.  “He’s perfect.”

“It was Bastian’s idea to bring another man into our bed,” Rider explained to the still speechless Taren.  Taren’s stunned expression betrayed his surprise, and the captain laughed. “Bastian is not a slave, Taren.”

“He’s not?  But—”

“He was once my slave, but he is now master of my heart and my body.”  Rider glanced at Bastian with a look of pure lust and obvious affection.  “He is also the Sea Witch’s first mate.”

First mate?”

“I gave him his freedom, much as I promised you yours.  He chose to stay, and I rewarded his loyalty.  He is also a fine crew member.  The other men obey him as they would me.”

“Oh.”  Taren wasn’t sure which revelation had surprised him more—that Bastian had chosen to stay aboard the ship when given his freedom, or that the ship’s first mate willingly and gladly shared the captain’s bed.

“Tonight,” Rider said, bringing Taren back to the here and now, “you will watch and learn.  If you wish, you may join us, but I will not force you.”  He winked at Bastian, then added, “Not yet, at least.”  He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the floor, then waited patiently as Bastian crawled over Taren and began to unfasten the large buckle on Rider’s belt.

Taren’s erection, which had begun to soften, reasserted itself with a tap to his belly as Bastian pulled Rider’s trousers down to reveal a substantial cock, thick and hard.  Taren had never seen anything as large, not amongst the other servants or even the guests when he had bathed them.  It was both a frightening thing to behold and an object that held great interest for Taren.

 Rider, noticing Taren’s unabashed stare, caught Bastian’s eye and murmured, “Show him how it’s done, love.”

 Bastian laughed and took Rider into his mouth, swallowing him down so deep that his nose brushed the curls at the base.  Slowly, deliberately, he released Rider’s cock, then sucked it down again, repeating the movement as he hollowed his cheeks to increase the pull.

Rider slid his large fingers through Bastian’s silky hair, pulling on it until Bastian cried out.  At first, Taren feared that the larger man had hurt Bastian, but a muffled cry of pleasure told him otherwise.

“Touch yourself,” the captain commanded Taren.  “I know you want to.”

Taren swallowed his fear, then did as he was bidden, taking his cock in his hand as he often had when he thought no one would see, and fisting it.  But the sensations he had felt in the darkness of the tavern were nothing compared to this.  He mimicked Bastian’s movements as he bobbed up and down on Rider’s cock, matching the rhythm of his hand to Bastian’s sucking. 

It took only a moment before his release came with a stifled cry.  Ashamed at his lack of control, he looked away, only to feel Rider’s hand on his shoulder.

“You’re young.  There will be time for more later, if you wish it.”

From his position at Bastian’s side, Taren watched the redheaded man roll Rider’s sac around in his hand as he continued to suck.  Bastian ran his teeth over the other man’s cock, teasing and nipping at the edge of the swollen tip.  Taren imagined the feel of Bastian’s lips on his body, biting at him, taking him deep inside.

“Touch him, if you want,” Rider instructed Taren.  Taren hadn’t even noticed that his eyes had strayed from Bastian’s mouth to the smooth, honeyed skin of his back.

For all that he was beginning to believe in Rider’s promises, Taren could not immediately comprehend what the captain had offered.

Why would he, my master, invite me to pleasure myself?

“Go on, boy.  Touch him.”  Then, as if understanding Taren’s hesitation, he added, “Do you not understand that seeing your pleasure increases my own?  Go on.  Touch him.”

With a shaking hand, Taren reached to touch Bastian’s skin.  It was as soft as he’d imagined it would be—softer, even—and he explored the smooth surface of it with a measure of reverent awe.

“May I… taste him?” Taren asked.

Rider nodded his approval, and Taren leaned over and kissed Bastian’s back, then licked it with his tongue.  It was slightly salty, warm to the touch, enticing.

Rider’s groan of satisfaction as he came awoke Taren from his reverie.  Bastian licked his lips and turned to look at Taren over his shoulder.  “I want to fuck you, Taren.”  The coarse language did nothing to quell Taren’s rekindled yearning.

“Y- you want…,” Taren stammered, painfully aware of his lack of experience.  He wasn’t even sure he understood what this meant between men.

“Lean back,” Bastian instructed.  “Let me pleasure you.”

The next thing Taren knew, Bastian’s hands skated over his sensitive skin.  It was if every pore of his being wanted this, needed this.  He could not speak, so overcome was he by the feeling of those fingers.  And then Bastian leaned over and took one of Taren’s nipples between his lips, sucking on it until the flesh pebbled in reply.

“Oh,” Taren whispered.  He hadn’t meant to speak, and did not realize that the voice was his own until Bastian’s gentle laughter filled the air.

By now, Rider had climbed into the large bed and lay on one side, watching them.  The curtains were still open, and a vague thought flitted through Taren’s mind:  Rider wanted to watch them.  The thrill of understanding coursed through Taren’s blood like fire and, this time, his moan was louder, less controlled.

“Spread your legs,” Bastian murmured.

Taren complied without a second thought as Bastian’s hands found Taren’s cock and then explored beyond, to that place that Taren himself had never dared to touch.  Instinctively, he moved to close himself, but Bastian stroked him gently and looked into his eyes.  Like a falconer might soothe an anxious bird, Bastian’s expression was a balm to Taren. 

“Close your eyes and relax your thighs.”  Bastian’s voice was husky with lust.

Taren complied.

“Beautiful.”  Bastian’s whispered praise was followed in short order by the wet warmth of his tongue, tracing a line back beyond Taren’s sac until it found the secret place between his buttocks.  When Taren tensed once more, Bastian muttered, “I won’t hurt you.  Let me show you what you have waited to feel.”

Taren breathed deeply and willed himself to relax.  The heat of Bastian’s tongue found the tight ring of muscle and probed at it, coaxing the release of tension there.

“Oh, yes…,” Taren moaned, unable to contain himself.

Bastian’s tongue breached his opening.

“Relax, boy,” Rider said, his voice a soothing rumble to Taren’s ears.

The wetness from Bastian’s mouth dripped between Taren’s cheeks.  “That’s it,” Rider intoned. “Relax.  He won’t hurt you.”

Bastian’s finger probed Taren’s tight opening, gently caressing it, then pressed inward so that the very tip of his finger breached Taren’s hole.  Taren keened beneath the touch, lifting his hips to allow the other man easy access.

“That’s it.  Have I hurt you?”

 “No.”  Taren’s voice sounded as though it were someone else’s, as if it came from far away.  “Please.  Oh, please. I want…  I need… more.”

Rider stroked Taren’s hair as Bastian pressed his wet finger inside.  It was slick, but the feeling was different from before, and as the scent of rosemary and lavender filled his nostrils, Taren realized that Bastian had covered his hands in fragrant oil.

“Relax, Taren.  I promise you, this will feel good.”

Taren did not protest as Bastian’s finger slid past the tight muscles.  It felt so good that Taren whimpered in response.  “Oh… yes… oh…”

Rider looked on in pleasure as Taren’s body yielded to a second intruder, then a third.  Each time, Bastian pulled and stretched the muscles to open Taren wider.  Then, without warning, Bastian rubbed against something inside that made Taren shudder—something so wonderful that he could do nothing but pant.

“Like that, do you?” Rider said with a smile for Bastian.

“Yes.  Oh, yes.” 

“Do you want me?” Bastian asked, his lips nearly touching Taren’s ear.

“Yes.”  Taren could barely breathe, his fear was so great.  But he knew he could not resist, the siren call was too strong.  He needed to know.  To feel this.

“Roll onto your belly and tuck your knees underneath you,” Bastian instructed.

It felt strange, crouching like a dog, his ass splayed so that both men could see his most private of places, and yet he did not object.  More than anything, he wanted this.  He wanted to understand.  He had not expected Bastian’s fingers to thrill him so, and the thought of the other man’s cock in their place sent shivers through his body.

Rider lay, watching them with an intensity that surprised him.  He no longer felt shame beneath that lustful gaze.  He knew only his desire, his hunger, and his aching need.

“Please.  Oh, please…,” he begged.

Bastian pushed his hard cock against Taren’s opening.  “Relax.  Just let me in.”  Bastian’s voice was soothing, and Rider’s hand once again caressed Taren’s head, comforting his fears.

The moan that issued from Taren’s lips as the other man breached him was tinged with pain, but as Bastian seated himself inside, the heat from within erased all but the heady sensation that Taren was being filled.

It was at once glorious and frightening.  To feel himself impaled and completely vulnerable sent shockwaves throughout his body.  As if drawn by invisible strings, he moved to meet Bastian with each, increasingly powerful thrust.

Taren looked to Rider for approval and the captain moved toward Taren, on his knees and offering Taren his own cock.  Taren understood.  Although he had never tasted another man, he put his lips to the tip and licked.  Rider roughly pulled his head down to mach each of Bastian’s thrusts, creating the same, delicious rhythm.

“Close your lips around me.”  Taren was too enthralled to think about his lack of experience.  His lips tightened around the captain’s cock and he allowed his mouth to be filled just as Bastian now filled his ass. 

Taren gagged and spluttered, instinctively turning his head so that Rider’s large organ slid against the inside of his cheek and he no longer choked on it.  Rider rumbled his approval and reached underneath Taren to pinch a pink nipple and twist it about.

Bastian’s orgasm was fierce, and he cried out his pleasure with abandon.  At nearly the same moment, Rider emptied himself into Taren’s mouth and Taren spurt onto the sheets beneath them.  This time, he did not hold back his cries and the captain’s warm release dribbled over his chin.

A moment later, he was clasped tightly in Bastian’s arms, gasping for breath, his body still shaking with the aftershocks.  He saw the look the other two men exchanged and he knew he had done well, that he had served them as they had hoped.  The thought warmed him as he lay awake long after Rider extinguished the small lamp.

Taren didn’t understand how it had happened.  He knew only that something deep within his soul had been unleashed and allowed to emerge from the confines of his servitude.  He was no longer just a slave.  He had given and received pleasure. And he knew he would never be the same.

© 2012, Shira Anthony

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