The New World Ch. 02

*Sorry for the delay, I recently had to do a lot of studying and had very little time for Lit, but I hope I can churn out a few more stories now.

All characters are 18+*

*

Brekken was the name of the Scots-Irish cook. He was a mostly strait man, but he had found out that he had a fondness for boys later in life. He liked to watch the younger sailors with their shirts off, and he often had visions of their sweet white buttocks in his sleep. The fragile boy that he kept in the anchor-chamber was the first boy he had ever fucked.

Matteo lived in the tiny chamber. He never spoke to Brekken, not even to tell the cook his name. If Roderick had known how well his 'conditioning' had worked he would have been overjoyed.

Brekken was not demonstrative, and the sex was frank and unappealing, but the cook went extra lengths to try and make his little prisoner happy. Every time he came down he tried to give Matteo a little gift. Matteo was grateful to Brekken, he stored the little gifts in a corner, and sometimes playing with them was the only thing that kept him from going insane.

Brekken gave him little lumps of charcoal to draw on the walls with, and the walls were covered with clumsy drawings that steadily got better and better, and Matteo's hands were constantly blackened with it. He brought a little lump of the soft clay that was stored for caulking the hull. Brekken brought interesting fish bones, and feathers from sea birds, and twice he brought sharks teeth from sharks that bored sailors had gaffed. At least once a week he tried to bring an interesting morsel of food other then the stale water and hard biscuits that Matteo subsided on. A pickle, a scrap of bacon, a sip of wine, one precious time, an egg.

Matteo learned to sleep. During his captivity with Roderick he had spent much of his time in a blank-eyed coma, occasionally moving to feebly scratch his healing wounds, or to relieve himself, feeling his body and mind atrophy.

With Brekken he did a sort of exercise. He now had the strength to do simple exercises similar to squats and pushups. He didn't have the room to stand, but he found workouts that would exhaust every muscle in his body. He didn't know where the ship was going, and he didn't have the language or the courage to ask, but he wanted to be able to run when he got there.

As a bonus, the exercise made it easier to sleep. He loved sleep, it could eat up the hours like no amount of doodling with charcoal or playing with clay could. He could sleep for up to sixteen hours at a time.

It was established that Matteo did not enjoy their sex. Brekken knew that, and sometimes he felt vaguely bad about it. He knew that women loved sex when they felt good, but he just didn't have the know-how or the courage to try and make the little redhead enjoy it.

One thing that Matteo loved, one thing that the frail beast needed, was the time after sex. After finishing his clumsy self-servicing little hump, Matteo on his hands and knees, the big Scots-Irish cook would gasp and collapse a little. Matteo would stay under him, loving and craving the feel of the big man's skin and warmth. Matteo desperately needed the man's touch.

About two hundred years in the future, a man called Harlow would do experiments with baby rhesus monkeys. He was the pioneer of the scientific study of love, and he found that given the choice between a cloth-covered doll with no food and a wire-covered doll with a milk-giving nipple, the baby monkeys would always cling to the soft doll for comfort, sometimes for up to twenty-two hours a day.

The big man gave Matteo nourishment, and gave him things to occupy himself with for the long hours of the day. He gave Matteo water to clean himself, and he daily cleaned out the pot he had left for Matteo's waste. In most ways he was the perfect caregiver of his rare little beast in a cage.

But at times, Matteo would have traded it all for those few moments of intimacy.

---

A month had passes. The little chamber was freezing cold despite the extra blankets Brekken had smuggled down, and Matteo spent much of his time in a warm little nest. It was loathe to leave the little pocket of body heat to eat or bathe or use the pot. Matteo had been in a blank state for the last hour, the kind of waking dreams that some call daydreaming, but absolutely nothing had been going through his head. He had been watching the faint mist of his breath waft up to the ceiling.

He had taken to doing this recently, the boards of the ceiling had first become shiny with frost, and now small icicles were growing ever-so-slowly. He had perfected the act of perfect, mindless meditation, not thinking, or sleeping, but something between the two.

The soft three-note knock woke him from his meditation, and a delighted smile split his face when Brekken came in. The chamber was too short for him to stand, or even to sit up comfortably. He crawled in on his knees and one hand, his bald head shining in the dim warm light from his candle. Normally the only light came from the hole in the wall where the anchor rope chafed slowly against the metal rim. At night, Matteo always stuffed this hole closed with rags to prevent the slightest ray of moonlight from reaching him.

Brekken smiled at the huddled figure of the boy in all his blankets. He got in and sat down on the floor after throwing down a blanket.

"Got a treat and some trinkets for you to play with, boy."

He unwrapped the cloth bundle that he had been holding to his chest. Matteo sniffed the air and he could smell cinnamon and honey. Brekken gave him a cloth, which had a sticky doughy ball in it. The ball was of soft bread-like dough with the consistency of pudding. It was a treat that the sailors liked to call skilly and duff. It was bread dough mixed with honey and cinnamon and raisons. Matteo's mouth watered but he just took a little bite of the warm sticky dough before wrapping it and putting it aside.

Brekken gave him his daily rations of hard bread and topped off his leather water bottle with a bit of water from his own. Today's little gifts included a massive white feather from a seabird, a blue marble, and a small wooden carving of a fish. Matteo thanked him in his customary speechless way, by taking Brekken's hand and kissing it softly.

They had developed their rhythm; gifts, sex, snuggle, leave. Brekken couldn't have been more surprised when he took hold of Matteo's frail white shoulder and the boy pushed his hand away.

Matteo was painfully bored, and he wanted something more fulfilling. He sometimes ached with desire and need after the clumsy bouts of sex. He wanted to make it good. He saw the beginnings of anger in the big cook's face, but he hastily reassured him in his strange speechless way. He cooed softly and gently put his own hands on the man's shoulders.

He leaned forward and for the first time in the month of knowing the cook, Matteo kissed him. Brekken suddenly understood, with the boy's soft full mouth on his and his little nest opening up like a flower; he understood that the boy wanted good sex. He tried to be an attentive student.

Moving clumsily in the small space, and shivering in the frigid air, Matteo maneuvered them so that the cook was leaning against the wall and the small beast-boy was straddling his hips with those slender thighs. The blankets covered Matteo's shoulders like a many-layered cape and his pale soft nipples had hardened into points as hard and small as birdshot.

Matteo kissed him, their mouths clumsy and wet and slowly learning. With his small hands he clasped the older man's wrists and put Brekken's hands on his shivering body. Brekken groaned softly, feeling shivering warm skin that was pocked with large goosebumps.

Brekken had always loved sex with women. Sex with the boy had been nice, but only a pleasant distraction on a voyage where he would see no women for a long time. Now it was different. His cock was hard and raging and he hadn't even touched it yet. The boy's body was yielding and willing and squirming to give him better purchase.

Matteo groaned softly. It was better for him as well. Normally he didn't get hard until Brekken's long skinny cock brushed his prostate, and even then it was an accident. Right now his thick streamlined cock was bobbing, alternately bouncing against his stomach and the older man's shirt.

Matteo's small clever hands found the seams and fastenings in Brekken's clothing and undid his shirt and unbuttoned his pants. It was too cold to get undressed, only to open up. And then their skin was touching.

For the first time Matteo began to pant and moan with pleasure as he felt the older man's body rubbing against his own, felt his long slender dick rub against his shorter thicker one. Rub their nipples together and knead them gently with thumb and forefinger. The cooks body was not pretty, but with the exception of a shy older boy he had toyed around with, it was all Matteo had ever known.

Brekken reached into the pouch of lard he kept on his belt and smeared the cold greasy stuff on his cock and more around the tender little pucker that he had fucked gently but carelessly for more than thirty days.

Instead of flinching away like he usually did, the boy moaned lustfully and pushed his thin hips down so the cook's fingers went up his tiny asshole.

"You like that do you?" Brekken panted. The boy vaguely understood the question, if not the words he was saying and he nodded, vigorously panting.

Brekken began to jab his fingers in and out of the hot slick little hole, feeling the muscles clamp down and relax in waves. With every stroke the boy moaned and whimpered. Matteo's cries were real, but he exaggerated them so that the cook knew when he was doing something right. In a flash of inspiration the cook leaned forward and swirled his tongue around a tiny nipple, the head was as hard and small as the head of a pin.

It was a trick that had made him mildly popular in the brothels near the docks, for very few of the men gave even a marginal effort to make the whores feel good. It seemed to work here as well. The little teenager cried out and rode his two stiff fingers harder, trying to make them reach the spot where he was so sensitive.

Brekken removed his fingers and nibbled on the other nipple. He rested his hands on those slim blanket-covered hips and positioned the boy so he rode on top of his cock. He was so excited that he felt like he might explode. He had never been this hard, not even with a woman. He let out a raw gasp of surprise when the boy threw back his head in ecstasy and sat down on his cock. The cook was slender, and Matteo's hole was loosened from daily use, so Matteo was able to ride all the way down in one stroke.

Matteo gasped harshly from the twinge of pain and the throb of pleasure. He rested for a moment, panting and laying against the cook's heaving body, and then he lifted himself into a squatting position and started to pump up and down. The cook rested one hand on Matteo's thin hip and with the other he kept his cock pointing strait up so it would keep going in and out of Matteo's hole without falling to the side.

Brekken was panting and looking up at the gasping goosebump-covered boy riding him. No one had ever done anything like this, never rode him, or even been on top. It made his dick feel pressure in new ways and new places and the novel sensation was pushing him closer and closer to the brink. Instead of steadily rising, his pleasure was rushing in an exponential spike higher and faster until...

"AH!!"

It was a short bellow, cut short by the sudden remembrance that he was hiding a stowaway and the crew was sleeping. His climax sent a wave of heat through his body as he gasped and sweated in the freezing air of the hold.

Matteo whimpered with need, he was still hard and aching and he had been near the edge himself. Brekken was too preoccupied with his orgasm so Matteo wrapped his fist around his cock and pumped with a desperate urgency.

When Matteo came the release splattered on Brekken's rounded stomach and the cook's face wrinkled with disgust and in a moment of revulsion he smacked Matteo hard.

With that open-handed slap all of the joy and heat and security disappeared. Suddenly Matteo realized how tiny the room was and his stomach ached with fear and nausea and the half-healed wounds on his buttock and the half-healed burns on his torso ached fiercely with remembered pain.

Matteo cringed to the side and for a moment he had changed from the shy pretty boy that hid away in this room to a cowering animal with large feverish eyes in a cage. He moaned softly with fear and pain, and had a sudden urge so insistent that it was painful, an urge to see the sky, to see the moon.

The cook looked down at the boy who was suddenly cowering and crying in the far corner, trying to wrap the blankets around his body more securely. He looked less like a boy and more like a badly treated dog.

Brekken felt a pang of remorse and regret, and he felt sorry for the boy, but he had a stiff sense of pride, and that pride was too much for him to stoop so low as to apologize.

He stood up, buttoning his pants, and he winced a little at the way the redheaded waif shrank into the corner. His voice still came out harsh and angry.

"Don't come on me you little pansy. I take care of you, and I don't want you to touch me with your fucking spunk!"

Matteo's eyes had become glassy and unhealthily bright, and he put his hand on the dull red weal that was beginning to show on his cheek. He didn't move from the corner until Brekken left in a huff.

---

The days got warmer as they went further south. There were fewer treats as luxuries like honey and fruit disappeared. Matteo and Brekken had gone back to the usual routine of bad sex and little communication. Things had eased between them after the first few days, but Matteo still flinched when Brekken moved too quickly.

One night, when everyone was drunk and asleep after having an extra dose of gin, (land had been sighted) Brekken gave Matteo the best treat of all.

It was very dark, and they had already had their brief hump. Matteo watched him with concerned curious eyes as Brekken got up and opened the door to the room wide. Outside was a short hallway that was only four feet tall and ten feet long; less with a few coils of spare rope that took up some of the space. To Matteo, the tiny hallway seemed huge. His eyes had a hard time adjusting to see something far away.

He stood fully for the first time in two months. Despite his exercises, his legs were weak and shaky and cramped. Brekken kept a firm hand on the back of his neck and let Matteo walk the length of the hallway three times there and back. Matteo was smiling and tears were coming down his thin face.

When Brekken put him back in his room Matteo fell asleep instantly. The tiny hallway had exhausted him.

---

They were in port for two days, and Brekken managed to explain, with exaggerated gestures and the few words that Matteo did know, why he wasn't going to let the boy run off the ship even though they were at land.

They were at a tiny island that was nothing but sugarcane plantations and fifty acres of scrubby jungle. If Matteo was let go to roam on the island, he would be trapped and eventually starve or be enslaved or killed.

To make things up to the depressed and stir-crazy boy, the cook came down with a special treat.

Matteo watched curiously as the cook took a small bag of rough brown cloth and dipped a wooden spoon inside. When the spoon came out, it held a heap of what looked like rough large-grained brown sand. It was a spoonful of unrefined cane sugar.

Matteo glanced at the cook incredulously when Brekken nudged the spoon at him. Why did he expect him to eat sand? Was he drunk? Brekken licked a few grains off his thumb and offered the spoon to Matteo again, insisting.

The boy gave him another confused glance and grimaced a little, preparing himself for a mouthful of cold rocks. When he opened his mouth Brekken poured the little spoonful of grains onto the pink tongue, where they dissolved. Brekken watched with cool amusement as the boy's eyes went wide and round and hectic.

The shock of the pure sweetness was enough to make Matteo spit out his first word since Roderick had beaten language out of him.

"Sucre!" French for 'sweet.'

They both looked at each other for a moment, surprise written on their faces. Surprise that he had dared to speak, and surprise that the boy could speak, and that he was French.

"You could talk this whole time? I thought you were a mute for sure."

Matteo looked down at his knees, his mouth still buzzing with that insane sweetness. Not understanding the words, but understanding the tone. His shoulders were starting to tremble a little with fear. Brekken had not hurt him, or frightened him since the one day in the middle of the ocean, but now he was afraid.

Brekken could see the boy's fear. He was not a stupid man, and he knew that someone had beaten the shit out of this shy frightened boy. He sighed softly.

"You don't have to talk." He mimed it out with gestures. "But I want to know your name."

He pointed to himself and repeated his name, and put his fingers on Matteo's thin chest. The painful lock was back on his tongue, the lock that Roderick had put there. But he had already said one word, and the second word was easier. It came out after three tries.

"M-M-Mat-Matteo."

"Matteo." Brekken tasted the name, and that day he was very tender and careful when he heaved over the boy's slender frame.

---

The journey north was swift and it got colder seemingly with every day.

Brekken snuck an extra blanket down into the hold, and tried to exercise Matteo as often as he dared, for the boy was getting very thin and sickly and pale. Each time he was able to walk the narrow hallway it bettered his mood and brought a shadow of color to those pale cheeks and listless eyes.

Brekken had planned on keeping the boy for the entire voyage, so he would have the tasty little stowaway on the journey home as well. However, now he could see that if he kept the boy on the ship that the little waif would waste away on the journey home. He had very little appetite, and was so listless that Brekken couldn't even bully him into finishing the increasingly stale and moldy rations.

Brekken shrugged. Any lad with a strong back and enough brains to keep their ears apart could make a living in the colonies. With some food and fresh air in the colonies, the boy would live. After that, Matteo would no longer be his problem.

---

Matteo moaned softly as Brekken shook his thin shoulder through the blankets. Feebly, not even opening his eyes, the boy rolled onto his stomach and thrust his naked ass in the air, shivering at the cold draft on his exposed skin.

The expected intrusion did not come. Brekken kept shaking him. Sleepy and nearly comatose with inactivity, Brekken had to drag and bully Matteo to his feet. He dressed the boy clumsily in a pair of homespun trousers and the loose shirt he had worn from the beginning. He added a thick travelers cloak and Matteo blinked sleepily at the sudden warmth of the fleece-lined garment.

Brekken took him through the tiny hallway and out through the deserted ship. For the first time in months, Matteo looked up and saw the sky. The stars burned his eyes like cold fire, and the moon sliced the dark cloth of the heavens in a silvery sickle. His cheeks were darkened with the cold and his feet thumped the earth in clumsy wooden clogs that Brekken had given him.

Brekken led him down the thin wooden gangplank and onto a splintery wooden pier. Matteo looked down from the heavens long enough to see a black forest of virgin pines that reached fantastic heights and extended for hundreds of miles, ending at the dark jumbled lumps of a mountain range. The town had been hacked and scarred into the forest, and it looked infinitesimally small compared to the behemoth of the forest.