The Libertine

by Holden, William;

  The Libertine

  By William Holden

  Published by JMS Books LLC

  Visit jms-books.com for more information.

  Copyright 2017 William Holden

  ISBN 9781634863216

  Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

  Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

  All rights reserved.

  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America.

  * * * *

  For Mark.

  * * * *

  The Libertine

  By William Holden

  Hindsight is everything. Looking back, I realize I would have fared better if I had let him kill me. At least then I would have reunited with my mother and father in heaven. Instead of living a life of lies and deceit on the streets of Kralendijk, the capital city of the Isle of Bonaire, one of the Dutch colonies in the Caribbean. However, when the time came and death faced me, I chose to live. Thinking back to those moments between life and death, and knowing what may become of me, I wish I would have let him fire his flintlock upon me—but I did the unthinkable. I reached out and caressed Captain Blair’s leg.

  I would like to feign ignorance for my action, but, alas, there is no comfort for me there. I knew the risks involved in expressing my less than acceptable behavior with such bold abandonment. I also knew this path was expected of me, even commanded of me. After all, the Dutch Army had made me their pawn, and my orders were to infiltrate the enemy by any means possible. Knowing my penchant for the male body, I do not believe I would have changed a thing even if the choice of life and death had been mine to make.

  The fact of the matter is quite straightforward—action thrilled me. The sounds of cannons exploding all around me, the desperate cries of people breaking through the night sky, and then their silence, which followed as the soldiers extinguished their lives. The chaos of war led to my prick stiffening. The fear of the unknown caused my groin to ache with a blazing fire only a man could satisfy. For me, desire and passion were about life and death, all at once, and all around me in a single glorious moment. There was also, of course, Captain Blair, who stood before me in all his might and glory. We were alone in a dark, desolate alley with his men bellowing as they pillaged nearby. His pistol aimed and ready to extinguish my life. If chaos of such magnitude does not get a man aroused, then he deserves to be put to death.

  Fear had no place within me. A deep longing and desire to be with another man had burrowed inside of me, even if those feelings resulted in my execution. The muscles in his leg tightened at the first touch, yet he didn’t pull away. Whether his lack of action was an invitation for further exploration, or a momentary pause brought on by outrage and disgust, I couldn’t tell. I decided, or rather hoped, his hesitation was due to the latter. His legs were stout, and the one thing I wanted at that moment was to feel my fingers combing through the coarse, black hair covering them. With those thoughts, I moved my hand down his calf. His muscles tightened to my touch as I passed over them to his ankle, and then to his foot. His feet were dirty and callused, yet the feel of them drew me closer and made my prick damp with a need I could not explain. The urge so potent, I thought I might spurt my seed in my breeches.

  Captain Blair kept the pistol in hand but moved the barrel away from me. The invitation I had hoped for, and one I accepted. I moved my hand back up his leg until I reached the hem of his knee breeches. They were thin and worn. I could tell by the movement underneath the material that my attention intrigued him. The outline of his excited prick appeared against the fabric. From the length and girth of the lump, he was well-equipped. I became delirious with want. I moved my hand away from his leg. My fingers touched the front flap of his breeches. I felt him rise further from my touch. Then, with fear in my throat making breathing difficult, he backed away from my advance and aimed his pistol once again at me.

  “Why do such a foolish thing, boy?” His rough voice echoed around us and sent a shiver through every fiber of my being. His masculine tones tickled me and stroked my desire further. “Don’t you know men have lost their lives for such an act?

  My body trembled with fear and desire, which made me want him even more. After a moment, I found my voice. “I am sorry, sir,” I said. “I fancied I could be of service to you if you would spare my life.”

  “You are a bold one, aren’t you? How old are you?”

  “I am twenty-six, sir.”

  My body jumped as a cannon fired in the distance. I felt my prick shiver and spit excitement into my underlinens as the ground shook from the impact. The explosion felt as if the force of the blow had penetrated me. The darkened sky exploded in a blaze of orange and red. The screams of the nearby villagers carried through the night wind, as a dire warning to other villagers of the war raging on the island.

  “A might young man you are to be living such a life.” He pointed the pistol at my temporary home. “What is your name?”

  “Adam, sir.” I watched him look me over as if questioning my lean frame and wondering what possible use he could have for me.

  “Adam, is it?” He placed the pistol in his belt and closed the gap between us. “The name of the first man, but not a masculine one, which would otherwise bring respect. What makes you think I would have any use for someone like you? Have you got any skills at all?

  “No, sir. I am not as strong as most men, and I lack a trade, which keeps me low on coins.” I then added, perhaps with too much enthusiasm, “I’ve been told I am quite good with my hands.” I looked at him as he towered over me. His natural parts dangled behind his thin breeches. “I’m sure I could be of use to you somehow.” I let my hand fall between my legs and fondled my stiff prick, hoping to entice him further.

  “Perhaps.” He walked around me, eyed me from every angle. When he returned to face me, he had a troubling looked upon his face. “Your accent is a bit disturbing to me, Adam,” he said. “Where did you say you were from?”

  “I didn’t say, sir,” I replied. I had been practicing my lines for some time, but as he stood before me, I could not for the life of me put my fictitious life together with any certainty.

  His finger’s twitched as if readying to pull his pistol on me. “I think you best explain yourself.”

  “I am from America, sir.”

  Fortunately, my fictional life started to come back to me in bits and pieces. If anyone discovered my Dutch heritage, the Captain would extinguish my life before I could take my next breath. Another canon exploded near our burned-out alley. Grit and dust rained down on us.

  “America is a big place. Care to elaborate?”

  “Massachusetts, sir.”

  “Perhaps that explains it.”

  “Explains what?”

  “Your accent has a texture I find most distressing. Are you sure you are not Dutch?” H
e looked around and nodded at my makeshift bed. “After all, I did find you living in one of the Dutch colonies.”

  “I can assure you what little accent you are hearing is a consequence of life among the Dutch. I have no more connection to the Kingdom than you.”

  “I have traveled the seas my entire life and have learned a thing or two about men. My gut tells me there is more to your story than you are telling me.”

  “There isn’t much to tell, sir.” I struggled between the truth and the lies. To say no more felt the safer option.

  “What brings you to Kralendijk? People do not come here on a whim or fancy.”

  “I found myself in some trouble back home. Some men were looking for me. Heard they wanted to ‘put down’ as they called it. I stole away on a ship. I didn’t know the intended destination. I didn’t care, as long as the ship took me far away from America. I’ve been told not to trust the Dutch, so I chose to live on the streets, away from their daily life. I’ve kept a low profile stealing what I need to survive out here.”

  “What sort of trouble?”

  I could tell my story had peaked his interest. Trained to never give intricate details of one’s life for fear of forgetting the previous details, I said little else. “Thieving mostly, silver, gold. I got good at picking pockets. Unfortunately, I picked a few wrong pockets early on. Got taken in, careless, much like I did tonight. I let my ability to please a man be known in hopes of saving my life. Unfortunately, they were not the type of men who were easily cajoled with promises of pleasure.”

  “People from America are too uptight for their own good. Damn Puritan beliefs. Figured you’d get away before they did away with you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Tell me, boy, with your experience in America, why make the same mistake with me? Seems you are on a death wish.”

  “No, sir. Not a death wish. On the contrary. I’ve used my body as a way of survival on the streets. It’s the one thing I know how to do with certainty. I thought…perhaps…well, being away from America, I might be able to earn a few coins from the men. I heard the Dutch were more accepting.” As those words fell from my tongue, I realized I had said too much. I had contradicted myself and the fact was I did not know which direction the ship headed. I waited for his reaction, almost certain I had given him something to doubt.

  “Perhaps I could use a young lad such as yourself,” he replied. I almost collapsed from relief. “I’ve not had proper company in quite some time.”

  My heart thumped and banged inside my chest as I watched him untie the front flap of his breeches. I drew upon my virtue of patience and waited as I did not want to appear too eager, which might alarm him to my real purpose. He removed his hand and nodded at me. My fingers trembled with nerves and anticipation. I moved my hand under the flap and entered his breeches. The enclosed heat of his body warmed my hand as I laid it upon his privates. His prick, which was thick and damp from want, spat more of his early-release against my palm. He lengthened from my touch. I pulled his prick out of his breeches and let the warm air of the night caress the soft, silken skin.

  His prick hung with weighted need in front of me, its base covered in a mass of tight, coarse hair. Amazed at how different his prick looked from mine, I brought my face closer to inspect it. The acrid musk of his sweat turned my stomach at first, but after a few moments, the scent became as intoxicating as any liquor one could find on the island.

  My lips trembled. I licked them to remove the dryness. I parted my lips and slipped the Captain’s prick into my mouth. The soft, silky skin filled my mouth with such pleasures, I became dizzy. He grew in my mouth. His length and girth became more than I could take. I gagged and withdrew, gasping for air.

  “Boy, you need to do better if you expect to please me,” he said.

  “I am sorry, sir,” I replied. I looked at him as I stroked and pulled on the shaft. He moaned with pleasure. “You are well appointed, sir, and, of course, I lack adequate experience with my mouth. Most men, well, they wish to take me as they do their whores.” I took a deep breath to calm my spirits then wrapped my lips around him again. He stopped me.

  “As I can see. Stand and remove your garments. Those men who came before me might have the right idea.”

  I did as he requested and unlaced my blouse. The heat of the night air nuzzled my skin as I removed the cloth. I unbuttoned my trousers, stepped out of them, then made quick work of my innermost linen. His eyes widened as he stared at my nakedness. My hard prick glistened with excitement. The lack of heft caused my prick to stick out in front of me. I touched myself as I have done many times, but found the act somehow more exciting to do so under the stare of another man.

  “Turn around and get down on your hands and knees, boy.”

  His voice, more forceful than before, sent a shiver of fearful pleasure through my body. I did as he asked without further delay. I felt him lower himself to me. His thickness lay heavy against the small opening I offered him. He spat against my arse. I felt him push against me. He grabbed my hips for leverage and entered me without care to my well-being or comfort. Pain ripped through my body. My prick shriveled from his insertion. I gasped, yet uttered not a single word. I held my breath against his thrusts, fighting back the urge to pull away or to utter a sound. The burning ache began to lessen. My prick became hard once more as pleasure swept through my body. I became light-headed from the stinging pleasure of Captain Blair entering me. Being used in such a brutal and masculine way thrilled me like never before.

  I panted, moaned, and grunted as he shoved his prick deeper and harder inside of me. The sound of our action echoed around us. My prick began to swell. I touched my prick and pleasured myself. A ball of heat larger than any cannon could expel exploded inside of me until every ounce of my body broke out in a heavy sweat. His prick thickened inside of me as he continued to use my arse. I made quick use of my hand as I felt the rush of his seed fill me. He thrust himself into me one last time to release again. In a rush of burning heat, I spent in a spasm of pleasure and showered the ground with my seed.

  He fell on top of me, forcing out what little air remained in my body. I felt his stomach rise and fall, and the warmth of his breath on my neck, as we lay tangled in the secrets of our act. Dirt and leaves covered our sweat-soaked bodies.

  Before we could right ourselves, a voice bellowed nearby and startled us. “Captain, what have you done?” His tone didn’t contain disgust but anger. “You’ve buggered this young lad!”

  I felt Captain Blair remove himself from me. The act caused me to release another amount of seed between my belly and ground. He stood. I turned my head and watched with caution as he tucked his shrinking prick back into his breeches.

  “I ordered you to fetch supplies, Rory,” Captain Blair said. He placed his hand on the butt of his gun. The two faced each other.

  “I know why you gave such a command.” Rory’s fingers twitched as if ready to draw his pistol. “Is this how you repay my service to you and The Libertine by sodomizing and cavorting a Dutch lad?”

  I lay on the ground, afraid to move. My heart raced with fear and excitement. There was something unspoken between the Captain and Rory. Their silence had nothing to do with me or the assumption of my Dutch origins. Then my eyes caught sight of Captain Blair’s pistol just a few feet away from where I lay. I made quick work of a plan of action determining how much time I would need to extract the pistol from Captain Blair, shoot Rory, then the Captain. My fingers twitched with anticipation. I sat up, keeping my eyes bouncing back and forth between the two men.

  “You dare stand against your captain?” Captain Blair took several steps closer to Rory, spoiling any chance I had of enacting my plan.

  “I and everyone aboard The Libertine will stand against any activity with the enemy.”

  “Be careful Rory, or you will not live long enough to speak of what you saw here tonight.” Captain Blair pulled his flintlock and took aim. “Go for your pistol, and you’ll lose.�
�

  Rory seemed to take no notice of the Captain’s threat. He walked toward us with slow, purposeful steps. As if in some strange dance ritual, Captain Blair and Rory circled one another. They stopped when Rory stood next to me.

  “This is what pleases you?” Rory reached down and pulled me up by my armpit then wrapped his arm around me. He took out his pistol and held the muzzle to my temple. “I should put him down where he stands.”

  I looked at Captain Blair, pleading with him to help. I knew my looks meant nothing to the man. He had no reason to keep me alive. I struggled against Rory’s grip, but the cold muzzle of his gun against my head and the sound of the hammer engaging halted my efforts.

  “Let the boy go, Rory. He is no concern of yours.”

  “I will release him once he has breathed his last breath.”

  Captain Blair fired his pistol, his aim precise as the bullet ripped through Rory’s shoulder. The force of the blow threw us both off our stance. I fell to the ground as Captain Blair fired a second time, striking Rory in his chest. His stark white blouse turned crimson as his blood, and life leaked out of him. Rory looked at his Captain then at me. His eyes were not full of pain or even shock. Hate hid in there, and he aimed it at me. He collapsed on the ground. His body shivered and convulsed. He gasped as he tried to speak. Captain Blair stood over his body and took aim once more. He pulled the trigger and lodged the bullet between Rory’s eyes. Rory’s body flinched, and with a final gasp he died.

  “You always were a fool, Rory. A worthless, no good, powder monkey.”

  “You murdered one of your own, in cold blood,” I said.

  I realized how ridiculous I sounded, as if I hadn’t done the same thing countless times for my country. I became aware of the incredible danger I had found myself in and how sudden my life could end at the fanciful whim of the Captain. I knew I needed to play my cards with care and caution. While the Captain searched Rory’s body for anything of value, I remained on the ground and dressed.