Tink awoke on her fourth day aboard the Jolly Roger and began her training with the belaying pin. Her Master had not yet required her to serve him in that way but it was important for her to be ready for him. She finished quickly knowing that Mr. Smee soon would arrive with her porridge and tea. Yesterday he had walked in on her, ass well-impaled on the greased pin and she was mortified. Of course, buggery was nothing new to anyone on a pirate ship. The men often buggered the town wenches, the occasional mermaid and even each other when far from port. Still though, the concept was quite new to Tink and she blushed crimson at Smee’s entry to the cabin and she stammered an embarrassed ‘good morning’ to him. Smee apologized profusely and vowed to knock from then on. After her breakfast, Tink went out to fly high into the skies over the port and over Neverland. Her bottom hurt but not so badly as when she first began her dilation exercises.
As Tink gained altitude, she realized how much her life had changed in less than a week. It used to be when she flew high she had a sense of approaching Heaven. Now, the further she got from the ship the more lonely she felt for her Master was aboard. He had fucked her soundly only the night before and although he called it fucking, no matter what the man did it was lovemaking to her. Tink grew moist as she remembered their coupling and how he had filled her body, mind and spirit with his presence, his manhood and his seed. They had used his bunk last night and so Tink was permitted to call her Master James and she savored the flavor of his name on her tongue, the same tongue that had driven his prick nearly to eruption before he slam-fucked her, nearly driving her small body right through the straw and the rope webbing that supported it.
Flying lower now over Neverland she noticed Peter and the Lost boys, playing in the wood near their huts. “Children” she thought wistfully to herself. They will be children forever. Never in his existence could Peter have taken her sex to the heights that her Master has. With a last sad gaze at the scene below her, Tink turned northward over the forests and glen, past the great waterfall and the village. The town never changed, baker shops, shipwrights, mercantile goods and of course the tavern and bawdy house. No doubt the wenches still were sleeping off their evening’s grog while their customer’s salty leavings trickled from their cunnies onto the unwashed bedclothes beneath them. Tink respected these working wenches, but was grateful not to work among them. Being fucked by a Master whom she loves and whom cares for and protects her was so much better than laying it out for whoever dropped a coin into your hand. Tink’s heart was so full of gratitude that her body felt lighter, more buoyant and she flew with greater ease than she remembered ever in her young life. Turning now, towards the ship, Tink saw her Master and Mr. Smee returning from the town having ordered-in supplies that would be delivered over the next days to restock ship’s provisions and replace the kegs of gunpowder for her canons. Her Master appeared happy and there was extra spring in his step as he moved jauntily towards his vessel. High over the harbor, Tink saw an xbec, a three-masted Mediterranean cargo vessel, making headway towards the port, no doubt to resupply the town’s stores. Her broad sails billowed like clouds on the ocean.
Hook took his noon meal with his officers and afterwards he called Tink to the deck. I’ve a gift for you my dear Lightning Bug, but you must climb to fetch it. Hook pointed to a small velvet bag tied high in the rigging, barely visible well above even the Crow’s Nest. With an excited giggle, Tink unfurled her wings and soon was just above when Hook grabbed her ankle and pulled her gently back to the deck. “No, Lightning Bug, I said you must climb to fetch the gift.” Tink stood confused and Hook withdrew a wide red silk ribbon with off characters that looked vaguely Chinese. Hook wrapped the ribbon about her trunk, holding her wings furled and secured the ribbon to her with a small silver buckle.
“But my wings…” Tink protested, her eyes wide with fright.
“Sorry, Lightning Bug, no wings this time. There will be times when it’s my wish that you not fly and this is the first of them. “
“I… must… climb up there, Master,” Tink spoke, her voice quavering.
“Yes, my adorable Lightning Bug,” Hook said, “Your gift awaits you.” “Please don’t fail me.”
Tink had watched the crew dance up and down the rigging like squirrels in a tree but she never had climbed anything in her life. Tentatively, Tink sucked up her courage and began climbing the rigging at the mast. Tink chided herself, “How can someone who’s flown nearly to the moons and back be so afraid of heights?” But, afraid of heights – or more correctly – afraid of falling she was and her trembling fingers held the hemp ropes and furled sheets in a death grip. Climbing past a yardarm, Tink became terrified and her hands literally shook. Her foot slipped and she panicked, grabbing the rigging and freezing g there. Tink looked at the deck below her hoping that her Master would send sailors to help her but instead, he appeared not to notice her dilemma and he went about the business of commanding a ship. Tink locked her leg into the rigging and decided to rest for a few minutes and regain her courage as she was only a third of the way up the tall mast.
On deck there seemed to be a commotion. A drunken sailor had returned from town and broken into the ships larder and drunk at least another two quarts of red wine. Beyond drunk, the miserable sit had disobeyed the deck officer’s orders to clean himself up and the man went so far as to deliberately puke on the deck officer’s shoes. There are no surprises to discipline on a ship, not even a pirate ship for there is no room for emotion on the part of her Captain or her officers. Every sailor knows exactly what to expect from each infraction. Drunkenness and disobedience to an officer meant the miscreant was to ‘kiss the gunner’s daughter’, meaning that he would be tied across a canon and flogged with a Cat-o-nine-tails, four lashes for the drunkenness and five for the disobedience. The crew gathered and the sailor was bound to the canon and the men drew straws to determine who must flog his fellow man. The Second Mate drew the short straw and took his place at the canon, cat at the ready.
“One” shouted the chief of the watch. The flog failed in the air and landed on the man’s naked back and buttocks with a crack producing an agonized scream.
“Two,” the officer barked and again the lashes dug cruelly into the man.
“Three…”
High in her perch, Tink hung transfixed at the scene below her. Her skin had shivered at the first landing of the lash on the man’s body but then a strange sensation came over her. With the second and subsequent lashes, Tink felt a thrill deep within her and her sex became wet. Tink began to fanaticize that her master would lay her across her cot and swing his belt high overhead and bring it onto her flesh producing that awful cracking sound. As the seventh, eighth and ninth applications of the flog struck the hapless sailor, Tink was close to orgasm in excitement and she wished with all her heart that someday her master will take a belt to her and punished her willfulness. With that, her great fear of the climb settled down some and she resumed her long climb as the ship’s surgeon, Doctor Parks, saw to the sailor’s back and buttocks.
By the time Tinkerbelle had made her way to the top of the rigging and placed the bag in her hand, dusk was falling. Although she longed to open the bag, she knew that her Master would want her to wait and open it in his presence. So, she tied the small bag securely to her tunic and began the long climb back to the deck.
“Good Form, “Lightning Bug,” Hook praised her. “A little slow, but acceptable for your first time.” Hook released the buckle and rolled the Chinese ribbon back into his pocket. “Please open your gift now, Hook instructed and Tink immediately obeyed. She emptied the velvet bag into the palm of her hand and three pieces of gold gleamed into her hand. One was a gold earring shaped like a ship’s anchor and Rhode line. The other was a tiny set of gold bars, with a small globe at each end.
These are beautiful Master, but what are they? Tink asked.
“The earring is a symbol that all sailors wear, especially we in the pirate life.” “There many stories and fables about why we wear them.” “Some believe that the earring hung in a pierced ear lobe improves their eyesight, a valuable gift for someone on the high seas.” “Others, cleave to the notion that the earring is payment for a man who would find and bury their body and this bit of gold is payment for that service.” “Still others believe that they will take it with them in death and barter their way into the afterlife with a bit of gold.” “I think they’re all dumb bastards and all this earring means to me is that I like it and think it will improve your looks.” “I find it a gift to reward your training and obedience.