“None whatsoever.”
“What will satisfy you and persuade you to spare us?”
“You must give us tribute.”
“We are willing to do anything within reason to appease you. Here, take this treasure.”
The official delegation brought out the picnic baskets and handed them over to the pirates. The Saracens made a great show of inspecting the contents and grumbling among themselves about the inadequacy of the fare, before accepting them. The townspeople offered the invaders jugs of wine, which they passed around among themselves and swigged from with abandon.
Birbantio now beckoned Tomaso to his side, for a sotto voce consultation.
“Our general says that you are wise not to resist us,” Tomaso declared, a bit grudgingly. “You have made a good beginning. But this is not enough. We must have slaves to take with us. Women,” he specified. “They must be beautiful young virgins who have never known a man. But do not fear. They will not remain virgins for long. We will see to that.” As Tomaso made this boast, he and his fellow Saracens put on a quite extraordinary display, grabbing their crotches and thrusting their pelvises back and forth in crude humping motions that suggested the invaders’ intentions in a way that left little to the imagination. The audience found this hilarious.
The pirates now selected the virgins amidst much teasing and tittering. They were all local girls and it was obvious that, although they made a token show of reluctance and resistance, their abductions were pre-arranged dates with their sweethearts. I noticed, though, that Rick, Tomaso and Donato didn’t select a girl for their boat. I wondered why. My curiosity was soon satisfied.
“Are you satisfied at last,” the mayor asked, “and will you depart and leave us in peace?”
“Not yet!” Tomaso growled. “We must have a beautiful young boy, to serve our Sultan as his catamite. Never fear, he, too, will be well instructed in his duties.” They accompanied this promise or rather this threat, by another round of crotch-grabbing and pelvis-thrusting, to the merriment of the crowd. “This one,” Tomaso said, pointing at none other than me. “Il biondino. The little blond boy. He will serve our purpose very well. Hand him over!”
Now, I flatter myself, I am reasonably well preserved, for a man of thirty-two, but to describe me as a young boy, beautiful or otherwise, was a bit of a stretch.
Still, the crowd seemed to approve of the choice and so, after doing a who, me double take, I stepped forward.
The mayor addressed me. “Are you prepared to sacrifice your honour to save our town?” He was a good actor, who managed to keep a straight face—quite an accomplishment, under the circumstances. I couldn’t help thinking that if my honour was going to be a bargaining chip, then San Floriano and its inhabitants were as good as screwed.
“Sure,” I said. “Why not?”
The crowd applauded me for my insouciance. Shouts of Bravo! Bravo, Il Viscontino rang out on every side. Feeling more than a little silly, but determined to play my part, I joined the bevy of giggling girls.
The mayor raised his arms and extended his open hands toward the slaves, including me, in a rather touching gesture of benediction. “May God go with you. May he bless and protect you, for you have saved our town from certain destruction.” He addressed the Saracens. “Go, terrible men! Depart from our shores and trouble us no more!”
None too gently, we slaves were seized and manhandled toward the waiting boats. In addition to Rick, Tomaso, Donato and myself, our boat had a fifth occupant—the strapping red skinned lad with the fish skull jewellery. A very polite pirate, he shook my hand and introduced himself to me as Manrico, before turning his attention to the tiller.
The fleet set sail. Our departure seemed to be the signal for a fireworks display. As one by one the boats slipped away into the night, the villagers fired rockets into the air from some location behind the piazza, and they burst in dazzling brilliance in the night sky, high overhead. The crowd cheered and exclaimed as they watched the explosions.
The farther our boat got from shore, in fact, the better our view of the fireworks became. We could see people lined up on the quay, waving to us. The band had begun playing again and we could see couples dancing. Shouts and laughter drifted across the water. It was obvious that the serious partying had begun.
The boats separated, each pursuing its own course. Ours went due west, until first the sound of the band faded from my ears, then the last bursts of fireworks were no more than a glitter of sparks in the dark sky, far away on the horizon. I could glimpse the green and red running lights of some of the other boats in the distance.
It was time to open our packed-full picnic basket. There were thick ham sandwiches made with the cold cuts called soppressata and ventricina—the best parts of a pig—oranges, bananas and apples, lengths of salami and large chunks of caciocavallo cheese. Of course, the fare included bottles of Falanghina and Taurasi wine. Back home in London, a gourmet food shop would have charged a fortune for such a feast. However, we were getting it for free!
It’s curious how the mere fact of being on the water can give one an appetite. We did full justice to the food and drank freely of the wine. I did wonder whether it was wise for my companions to drink quite so freely while they were operating a boat, but they seemed to know what they were doing.
Rick joined me where I stood looking out to sea.
“Are you having fun?” he asked.
“I’m having a ball.”
“I was afraid you might find this dull compared to the goings-on back in town.”
“I’m sure the people there are enjoying themselves. The Blue Cat must be swinging right about now.”
“I certainly hope so. But they can manage without me for one night. There must be quite a crowd at The Neptune Baths too, by now. But they can manage without us, as well.”
“They’re going to have to. But this is nicer. It’s a beautiful night, perfect for a sail, and I like the company.” A thought occurred to me. “I was under the impression that Donato and Tomaso both have fiancées?”
“They do. I’ve met them. Attractive girls.”
“I’m surprised they aren’t with us.”
“I believe the young ladies preferred a girls’ night out to and I quote, a long boring ride on a smelly old fishing boat. Another reason why our friends invited us along, for company. They were a bit annoyed and they’re determined to prove to the girls that they can have a good time without them.”
“And Manrico? Doesn’t he have a girlfriend?”
Rick took care to lower his voice. “I understand he’s rather inexperienced. Spends all of his free time in the gym, pumping iron with his buddies.”
“It shows.”
“Tomaso and Donato keep trying to talk him into going to the baths with them some night, but he’s kind of shy.”
I was dumbfounded. “Tomaso and Donato go to the baths? Are you telling me they’re bisexual?”
“Sure. Half the men in Italy are…it seems. Didn’t you know?”
“I didn’t have a clue. My gaydar must be on the blink.”
“Didn’t it occur to you that we might have to come up with some way of entertaining ourselves, on this boat trip?”
“Are you talking about sex?”
“I’m not talking about night fishing. Tomaso and Donato were definitely looking forward to a sex party. I hope you’re not going to be a spoilsport and disappoint them.”
“I’m game—”
“Somehow I knew you would be.”
“But what about Manrico?”
Rick smiled and shrugged his bare black shoulders. “I think the general plan is that this might be as good a time as any for Manrico to get over his shyness and lose his virginity.”
“My God,” I exclaimed. “You Saracens really are sex fiends!”
“And proud of it.”
I glanced sternward. Manrico still sat at the tiller. Closer to where Rick and I were standing, Do
nato and Tomaso were passing one of the bottles of wine back and forth, drinking straight from it. I didn’t know how much of our conversation the two of them might have overheard, but now they looked at us and grinned—their teeth gleaming unnaturally white in the midst of their painted faces.
“You see, Viscontino,” Tomaso said. “We will make a sailor of you, yet.”
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Donato asked.
“Very much,” I said.
“But not as much as you soon will be,” Donato retorted, with an unmistakable innuendo. “So tell us, Signor Rick. Are you in the mood for a little fun?”
“Always,” Rick boasted.
“So we have heard,” Tomaso said, with a leer.
I glanced at Manrico, to see how he was reacting to the turn the conversation had taken. He smiled back at me a little uncertainly, as though he didn’t know whether to take his friends’ banter seriously or not.
Rick nudged me. “Why don’t you help me get things ready.”
By things, he meant, I soon found out, a large inflatable mattress. We filled it with the help of a foot pump and set it up on the deck near the bow of the boat. From a storage locker, Rick extracted two pillows, a set of sheets, pillowcases and a blanket, and with these we soon made up a quite comfortable-looking open-air bed. Somehow, I wasn’t surprised to see that the locker also contained a box of condoms, a large tube of lubricant and clean towels.
“It’s a warm night,” Rick observed. “And you’re kind of overdressed. Why don’t you get comfortable?”
I had already kicked off my boat shoes shortly after climbing on board the boat. Now I stripped off my polo shirt and stepped out of my slacks. In honour of the festival, I’d put on my best knickers, a pair of white cotton designer briefs. If I may be so immodest, they fit me like the proverbial second skin, hugging my crotch and butt and showing both of those assets off to good advantage.
“Very nice,” Rick commented.
“Look, Manrico,” Tomaso sang out. “Doesn’t the Englishman have a pretty behind?”
“His glutes look very firm,” Manrico said. He was too polite to add for a man of his age, which I suspected was what he might be thinking.
“How’d you like to fuck an ass like that?” Tomaso wanted to know.
Manrico looked flustered. “You are making fun of me.”
“I assure you, I’m being quite serious. It’s just us men here on the boat. We are far away from shore. Nobody can see us. Why shouldn’t we play around a little? You want to find out what it’s all about, don’t you, Manrico?”
“Maybe,” the hulking lad mumbled.
“And I’m sure Il Viscontino will let you fuck him, if you ask him nicely. Won’t you, Viscontino?”
“It’d be my pleasure, Manrico,” I said.
“But I can’t have sex with anyone. I have to steer the boat!” he protested.
I’m afraid this struck us as so funny that all four of us shared a laugh at poor Manrico’s expense.
“We can anchor the boat,” Donato pointed out, demolishing that excuse.
“Come now,” Rick coaxed the well-built youngster. “You like men, don’t you, Manrico? You like men’s bodies. Il Viscontino is beautiful, isn’t he? And take my word for it, he’s very good in bed. Wouldn’t you like to make love to another man and find out what it’s all about?”
The boy stalled for time. “I don’t know.”
“We’ve all done it,” Donato pointed out. “There’s nothing to it.”
“We’re all friends here,” Tomaso argued. “We’re here to help each other out. We’re all horny. Why shouldn’t we have ourselves a little fun?”
Peer pressure can be a potent thing. Manrico was visibly weakening. “I don’t know,” he repeated. “Can I just watch?”
“Of course you can,” Rick told him. “We’ll put on a good show for you—won’t we, guys? If you do decide to join in, we’ll show you just what to do.” Rick turned to me and asked bluntly, “Are you in the mood to get fucked?”
I didn’t have to think about it. “Yeah.”
“Good. Suppose all three of us fuck you?”
“Suppose you do,” I challenged him. “Go for it, if you fucking Saracen studs think you’re up to it. I can take anything you horny bastards can dish out!”
I’d meant the reference to the Saracens as a joke, but it was a joke that, as things turned out, rather backfired on me.
Donato and Tomaso stripped off their baggy pants. As I’d suspected, they wore no underwear. They understandably had not bothered to apply the body makeup to the areas between their waists and their knees. The paler flesh there contrasted vividly with their painted faces, torso, arms and lower legs. They also retained their exotic headgear and other ornaments. As a result, they looked extremely grotesque—and interestingly enough, very sexual. The fact that both young studs were sporting erections contributed to this impression.
I stared at them for a long moment, savouring the sight of their nudity and their phallic display. I turned my back on them to see what Rick was doing—whether he, too, was stripping.
Suddenly, they grabbed me from behind! Four strong arms pinned mine to my back. Naked flesh pressed against me. Tomaso and Donato pushed me down spread-eagled onto the bed before I realized what was happening. They slipped a length of rope around my wrists, tightened and secured it in a typically efficient sailor’s knot. The other end of the rope they tied around the worn brass railing of the boat’s gunwale, securing my wrists to it above my head. Too late, I reacted to this unexpected assault and started struggling.
“Rick…Rick!” I shouted. “For God’s sake, help me!”
“What kind of help do you need?” he called back from where he stood. The son of a bitch had taken an orange from the picnic basket and he was casually peeling and eating it.
“Can’t you see what these two crazy buddies of yours are doing to me?”
“Oh, do you mean the Saracens? They’re just doing what Saracens do, aren’t they?”
“Stop fooling around,” I pleaded.
“I’m not so certain they’re fooling around,” Rick retorted. “They seem in deadly earnest to me. Maybe you’d better relax and play along.”
“Yes,” Donato said, gruffly. “You would be wise to submit to us.”
“Submit, hell! What do you think you’re doing?” I yelled.
“Just amusing ourselves,” Tomaso said, reaching out to touch me. He ran his palm up the inside of my thigh and I squirmed and tried to kick him.
“And amusing ourselves at your expense,” Donato added. “Remember, you agreed to sacrifice yourself. You promised to surrender your ass to save the town.”
“But that was just play-acting, guys. The town wasn’t in any real danger,” I protested.
“No, it wasn’t,” Donato agreed. “But your ass is!”
“Rick!” I screamed.
“Sorry,” Rick answered, sounding infuriatingly calm about the whole thing. “I’m busy eating this delicious orange. Can’t help you. You’re on your own.”
“Manrico!” I called out, desperately.
“Manrico has to man the tiller,” Rick said. “He can’t help you, either.”
“This is a very interesting game you are playing,” Manrico said, “and very exciting.”
“You ain’t seen nothing yet, kid,” Rick promised him.
Meanwhile, Tomaso had grabbed the waistband of my briefs. He yanked them down to my knees, then gave them a second pull, down to my ankles and off. I was naked. I cursed and tried to kick him again, but he warily stayed just out of reach of my flailing legs and feet.
“Look, Donato,” Tomaso said. “Il Viscontino has a big cock!”
“And it’s hard, too,” his fishing buddy observed. “I think he likes being our slave.”
“Oh, take my word for it—he does,” Rick assured them.
“I’ll get you for this, Rick,” I threatened. “I�
��ll get you and I’ll make you pay for this, if it’s the last thing I do. All three of you. I’m warning you. You let me loose this instant or—”
“Ah, the slave boy is defiant,” Tomaso said, mockingly.
“Yes, he has big balls,” his accomplice in crime, Donato, agreed. “Too bad they will have to be cut off, when they make him a eunuch in the Sultan’s harem.”
“I’ll turn you into a eunuch, you little shit,” I said. “You’d better take this fucking rope off me right now or—”
“Or what?” Tomaso asked, mock-innocently. “What are you going to do?”
It was a good question. I was too indignant to feel scared. I yanked at the restraint like a madman and only succeeded in chafing my wrists. It was no use. There I was, naked, on board a boat in the middle of the Bay of Naples at night, bound to a gunwale. At the mercy of these two horny young bastards, to say nothing of that orange-sucking sex maniac, Rick. What were they going to do to me?
Think, I told myself. There had to be a way out of this.
“If you want money?” I suggested.
They both burst out laughing.
“Don’t insult us,” Donato said, in a tone of voice that sounded amused rather than insulted. This was slightly reassuring. “We don’t want your money. We want your ass.”
“And we’re going to have it,” Tomaso declared. “After all, you are in no position to resist. You’re going to be our sex slave, for an hour…or two. And no harm done.”
“I’m nobody’s goddamn sex slave!” I blustered.
Tomaso smiled sweetly. “We’ll see about that. And afterward, when we have played for a little while, we will let you take your revenge. You can put the ropes on me—or on Donato. We will take turns.”
“The hell we will! Let me go,” I insisted. “I’m really not enjoying this.”
“You’re lying,” Donato told me, bluntly. “Look at you.” I was lying there breathing hard, my cock erect and my body bathed in sweat. “If you aren’t enjoying yourself, then why is your cock so hard?”
I bit my lip. “Just nerves,” I bluffed.
“And why it is already dripping semen from its tip?”
“Just a nervous reaction, like I said,” I suggested.
The Blue Cat Page 24
