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The Amphion's sails unfurled and billowed out as they caught the wind, like a fisherman's net straining to contain a big catch. The vessel surged forward, away from the smoking wreckage, as their target slowly sank beneath the waves, leaving nothing but some flotsam and jetsam. The Amphion was a fifth-rate frigate, built by the royal navy; with thirty-two guns she was fierce in a fight, manoeuvrable and fast. The letter's H.M.S had been scratched off her name years ago by her current captain.

She was a pirate ship, sailing the seas around the Caribbean and praying on whomever she came across. Her captain was one John Watson, a polar bear from the Yorkshire dales, though his Yorkshire accent was worn away after over thirty years at sea. His grey-blue eyes held a grim look, and his smile was even grimmer. Dressed in a simple white cloth shirt and loose brown cloth pants, however his hat was that of a full captain of the royal navy. He took that hat from the Amphion's previous captain, reasoning that his head had no more use for it, given that it was a few feet from his neck.

He watched the sinking wreckage with a growing smile, his eyes glancing at the prisoners they had taken from the H.M.S Suffolk before they had scuttled her. He turned to his pony first mate, Aron Castle, a grey Clydesdale from a small village in Norfolk. "Bring me the captain, and that ensign; I wish to have company while I dine tonight."

"Aye, John, at once," muttered Aron. His eyes noticed the family resemblance of the ensign and captain of the Suffolk, just as the bear's had. There were perhaps three people in existence who could get away with calling the captain by his first name, the bear's mother and father were the first two, and the pony was the final one.

The bear turned and walked back to his quarters, took off his hat, placed it on a stand, and looked at his table. The food from the Suffolk had been the first thing they had plundered, his cook had set out a lavish meal: A glazed ham, stuffed turkey, roast vegetables, a selection of breads, sausages and potatoes, roast, mashed and boiled, along with a flagon of gravy and two flagons of wine. Smiling, the bear knew it would be a good night tonight. The leftovers would be spread out among his crew; they would eat well, but after their captain had finished his feast.

John walked over to his spirit cabinet and helped himself to the finest port that had been placed there. A few barrels of port and rum had been taken and would also be shared out among his crew. Tonight would be a night full of drunken debauchery; his men would partake of food, wine, and each other. He didn't look up as the door opened and the corgi captain of the ship and the corgi ensign were escorted in by Aron. "As you ordered, Captain." The horse would never use his real name in front of prisoners; he was thoughtful that way. "I'll have two men sober and outside the door in case you need 'em."

"Thank you, Aron. See that you have some fun tonight. I did see a few fine fillies amongst our captives; maybe you could convince one of them that a night in the first mate's cabin is better than a night in the cells."

"My thoughts exactly," the pony replied with a lick of his lips. He bowed to the horrified corgis and left.

The polar bear took a deep swing of his port, rolling the fortified wine around with his broad tongue, savouring the robust flavours. "Mmm... this port is truly excellent. Of course, you would already know that, wouldn't you, Captain...?"

"Captain Porter, you devious bastard!" spat the corgi with a growl.

"Oh, you had to resort to name calling didn't you. To the victor go the spoils; now stop pouting, it was a fair fight..."

" A FAIR FIGHT?" screamed the corgi, trembling with barely contained rage, his small body filled with concentrated anger. "You approached us flying the damned Jack! We didn't know we were in a fight until you took our main-sail! I lost half my men to your first volley. That, you devious cur, was anything but a fair fight."

The bear poured two glasses of port and walked over to the captives, placing one in the ensign's unresisting, trembling paws and the other in the captain's. Taking another swig of his own, the bear towered a good foot and a half taller than the two and a good foot or two broader. His voice dropped into a growl. "Didn't anyone ever tell you, life isn't fair?" Then he smiled suddenly, his face the epitome of congeniality. "I used tactics that were a bit underhanded, sure... but then I am a pirate, not a nobleman, such as yourselves."

"Indeed, those are the sort of tactics I expect from someone low born," snarled the captain, taking a drink from the glass of port.

"Oh yes, low born, the lowest. I was nothing, just a farm hand," the bear waved at the table. "Please join me for a meal - the least I can offer in recompense."

The ensign looked at the captain, who nodded his head, and the two joined the bear at the table. The bear began to help himself to the food gesturing for his guests to do the same. As he ate he began to talk. "I do apologise for the inconvenience I have caused. You will be freed, of course, once the royal navy pays your ransom to my compatriots."

"Keep your apologies. They mean nothing to those you kidnap, you pirate scum," snorted Porter as he began to help himself to the food. The ensign shyly took a few slices of ham and some vegetables.

"Ah, right back to the insults. Still, at least I offered an apology. That was more than his Majesty's navy ever offered me," the bear shot back with a meaningful glance, "I never liked the ocean; it never stays still, the salt itches my fur. Sea air is nothing but seagull farts and rotting fish. I was a farm hand and happy, until the recruiters found me, press gangs, oh they were all so polite they gave me an option... you know what that choice was, don't you, Porter."

"Join willingly and do your duty, for two months advanced pay, or take the Kings Shilling and get no advanced pay." The corgi's voice got quieter. "So you are not just a pirate, but a deserter?"

"Oh, not straight the way. I refused and tried to get away, but the press gangs don't lose sixteen year old boys easily. I had the King's shilling forced into my unconscious paw." The bear replied holding the other captain's eye evenly.

"You abandoned your duty, you scum. You will hang for that, and your other crimes," growled the corgi as he shovelled stuffing and gravy into his mouth. "You were a man of the Royal Navy; you had duty and honour, and you pissed it all away."

"Oh aye... duty, honour, beatings, terrible food, terrible pay, and worst of all, being crammed onto a boat with a bunch of toffs. Saying yes Sir, yes mi'lord, all day, every day, until I could taste my own bile constantly..." The bear half ranted back at the corgi, who stopped eating to shout back.

"You took the shilling. You took an oath. You betrayed the king. You deserve the death that awaits you," the corgi ranted pointing at the bear with his fork.

"You know that is what Captain Bazely said when I faced him down during the mutiny," muttered the bear pouring himself a huge mug of wine. "A huge brute of a man he was, a bull but noble by birth - an officer through and through. A good fighter too... but I was better, and so I took his head, his ship, and his hat. You may be right of course, I might end up dancing a jig at the end of a rope, tied to a yardarm. Or maybe I'll die in combat. Of course, there's a chance I'll cash in all the loot I have stockpiled over the years and buy myself a nice mansion somewhere in the colonies. Where gentlemen like yourself will treat me like an equal and complain about the actions of the common man. None of which is likely to happen tonight, so why don't me, you and your son enjoy a meal and some wine."

"My son... he is not my son," the captain replied with a slight stammer as the ensign dropped his knife and fork.

"Oh come, come Captain Porter; I know a father and son when I see them, and I'm looking at them right now. Got him a commission, did you? Made sure he got onto a ship where you could keep an eye on the sprat and make sure he don't get into any trouble he can't handle." The bear chuckled as he gave the boy a long stare. The young corgi looked maybe twenty, thin body, arms and legs smooth and even. The bear knew the corgi had never done a day's hard work in his life. That was all about to change, of course. "You damn toffs are all the same: Keep your own in power, keep your boot on the throat of the common man."

"That justifies, mutiny, murder, piracy, and kidnapping does it?" asked Porter with another evil look.

"I never asked for any of this. You so-called noblemen pushed me until I broke. Twenty-five years I served, man and boy; I fought who my captain told me to fight, killed who my Captain told me to kill. Took beatings, lashings, and more. Watched you toffs make free with the food and grog, while we service men starved below. Slept in a stinking rat infested cargo hold, saw many a good man die for duty and honour, for the King." John's voice softened as he talked, and then his eye's hardened. "Then some crew stole some water and bread. We were starving and dying of thirst, while the officer's feasted on triple the rations we got. The Captain ordered no mercy, and I watched two good friends dancing the mid air jig for the crime of stealing a drink and a mouthful of sup... That was the day I realised, but for an accident of birth, toffs are no different to us. If I was on top, I'd tread on those beneath me to make sure I stayed on top. I had two choices - stay as a mat, or get to stepping myself. As it turns out, most of the crew felt the same, and we took the ship."

"Scum," snorted the captain. "That's what you are, all of you - traitorous scum, using your poor station as an excuse for your actions."

"You know, I was hoping for some good conversation, but I see that you will never get past who I am and what I do," the bear replied, getting to his feet and walking to the door. He opened it and nodded to the two guards outside. "The Captain has made it clear he does not approve of my company; please escort him back to his crew."

The corgi and his son got to their feet, "No; not you, you stay!" ordered the bear pointing at the young ensign.

"You leave my son alone or I'll..." snarled the corgi.

"You'll WHAT?" bellowed the bear towering over the dog until he cowered and the ensign sank into his seat trembling.

"I... hurt one hair on his head, and I'll kill you, I swear to God and all His angels, I will kill you dead, you hear?" screamed the corgi as the two guards man handled him forcefully out of the room.

The bear grinned and waved. "Oh, I hear, and I swear - nothing will happen to your son that he doesn't give permission for. My word as a Yorkshireman."

"Your word means less than nothing to me, traitorous whelp!" the captain spat as he was finally dragged away.

The bear turned to his remaining guest and smiled. "There. Now, maybe we can have a nice meal, just the two of us. Try the wine, my young friend... what's your name?"

"M... Malcolm, Sir," whispered the young corgi, unable to look up at the bear, his hand trembled visibly as he reached out for the wine as ordered.

A huge bear paw wrapped around his hand; it was warm and surprisingly soft, and the touch made the dog yelp in terror. "There's no need to fear me. I meant what I said: Nothing will happen to you here that you don't agree to. I promise. I'm not looking to beat you or... do anything violent or nasty. I just wished to dine with someone pretty."

The bear let go of the dog's hand and moved back to his seat. "See? It's just dinner. Of course, this is a lavish dinner; we don't often eat this well, and well, prisoners are often the last to be fed. It could be months before you and your father are ransomed off. Your crew will be let off at the next port, unless they wish to join us. Many do, you know, I'm not the only press-ganged sailor to want the freedom of piracy."

The dog poured himself a small glass of red wine and took a sip. The robust red wine flooded his mouth, a slight warming feel to it.

"You don't say much, do you? I suspect your father often speaks for you, but he's not here right now. So you may as well use that beautiful, melodic voice of yours." Smiled the bear as he took a swig of wine himself and winked at the dog.

Malcolm blushed a little, though he didn't know why and replied, "He... I... am not eloquent..."

"I bet that's your father talking. He's no longer at the table, I see a fine young man who is yet to come into his own," muttered the bear as he reached out to take another slice of ham.

"I... thank you, Captain," Malcolm replied. The bear was right; his father was always looking over his shoulder. None of the men on the Suffolk had respected him because his father was always looking over his shoulder.

"Now, young man, I have a proposition for you to consider," the bear said with a low conspiratorial voice, leaning across the table. "I am in need of a cabin boy, someone to keep me company on these lonely seas, and I think you might be perfect for both the role and my bed."

Red wine sprayed across the table as the young corgi choked on it in shock at the blatant offer. "I am not some Doxy, Sir! I absolutely refuse."

"That's a shame, I have a feeling you would enjoy my bed. I have always been able to spot those who would. I would imagine, if you said yes, you would soon learn to love it." The bear smirked, a lascivious grin on his face.

"You are most definitely wrong Sir; I am engaged to be wed, when my first tour is over." insisted Malcolm, ignoring a few strange stirrings in his loins.

"A nice good girl. Your father approved, I assume, or did he find her for you?" asked the bear, and the silence and look from the corgi confirmed the bear was right. Mary had been a choice of his father, they had courted for years at his insistence. He had proposed when his father told him he should.

"I... am not what you think I am," replied the corgi softly.

"Hmm, well maybe I'm wrong, but I would bet that I could get you to beg for my cock, like any cabin boy should beg his captain." Smirked the bear with a rude smile and a lick of his black lips.

"Well, you are wrong," Malcolm replied as matter-of-factly as he could.

"Maybe I could... no, you'd never go for it," muttered the bear slyly, catching the young male's curiosity early.

"Maybe you could what?" pushed the corgi. It was almost too easy for the bear to peak his curiosity.

"No, I said you'd never go for it, son of a nobleman like you; you will just have to spend the next six months in the brig with your father. We only have the one cell I'm afraid. So you'll be sharing." The bear baited the trap, using the boy's own curiosity and dislike of his father against him.

"Six Months!" squeaked the corgi in shock.

"At least, maybe longer. Hell, if the navy decides not to pay the ransom, well... you know the whole point of kidnapping is the ransom. If they don't pay, and we let you go, they definitely won't pay next time. So you see my hands are really tied, on your fate, unless..." the bear whispered gravely and honestly.

"Unless I become your cabin boy and share your bed?" Malcolm finished for him in disgust. "That's blackmail!"

"Yes, it is," the bear replied with a dark smile. "However, that wasn't what I was offering. A cabin boy who doesn't want to be there and hates me is no good, I want someone who will enjoy his time with me, makes it more fun for me."

"Then what are you saying?" inquired the young corgi eagerly, a way out where he didn't have to be cabin boy or share a cell with his father for six months was all he wanted right then.

"Well... how about a wager?" Propositioned the bear with a friendly wink.

"A wager?"

"You seem so certain you would hate being my cabin boy, and I am certain you would love it, so much so that you would beg for me to fuck you..." the bear whispered softly leaning across the table as close to the corgi as he could manage. "How about we engage in a friendly wager? You win, and both you and your father will be set free with the crew; I win, your father will still be set free, but you will stay and be my cabin boy and bed-warmer. So either way you win and get what you want."

Malcolm grabbed his mug and drained the red wine out of it so fast he ended up coughing. John leapt to his feet and gave the boy's back a light pat. "Easy there, boy; the wine's not going anywhere, you take your time to drink it."

The corgi coughed and spluttered for a few seconds and then got it under control. The bear stayed next to him, towering over him, terrifying and yet somehow comforting. The presence of the strong male leaning over him seemed natural to him, almost protective. "What... what are the exact terms of your wager?"

A broad smile spread across the bear's face. "Smart lad. Get all the details before you say yes or no." A little stroke to the dog's ego to help raise his confidence, to help him have the courage to say yes. "The terms would be... you spend the evening in here with me and do everything I ask. If, before the sun peeks over the horizon, I get you to beg for my cock, for me to fuck you, then I win. If not, then you win. See? It's all in your hands, you will have control, if you don't like what happens, it will be a one time thing. Think of it as paying the ransom and saving your father and yourself. Like a true noble Englishman."

John placed a paw on the young corgi's shoulders and squeezed lightly. He knew he had the dog already, at least for the night, and probably for the rest of his life. He had felt an attraction to the boy from the second he stepped foot on board. He had seen the young male hiding in his father's shadow. The pattern of his furs, the mixtures of cream, light and dark browns, were enchanting. The bear had only needed to meet the father, and he had learned all he needed to. The boy was ruled by his father. Give him a chance to save his father, and he would give himself willingly, in the desperate hopes that his brave sacrifice would finally earn his father's approval. The bear smirked to himself how easy it was to get him from horrified at the prospect to seriously considering it. Making the young man beg for his cock would be a challenge, but one he would enjoy conquering.

"How do I know you will keep your word?" The young boy asked, and inside, John roared in triumph. He was going to have his way with this corgi tonight.

"Well, I give you my word as a Yorkshireman, but how do I know you will keep your word and not try to escape if I win?" the bear asked in reply, flipping the question back on the corgi. Getting the young male to commit to his word was the best way to get what he wanted.

"I give you my word as an Englishman," Malcolm replied with an edge of confidence in his voice.

"Good enough for me; shake on it." The bear spat into his hand and offered it to the young male. He had every intention of honouring his word; keeping hostages was always a pain, and this way, he got a night's fun at least, and a lifetime's worth of fun at best.

Malcolm looked at the spittle-dripping paw in horror and then, trembling a little, he spat into his own hand and shook the warm huge bear-paw. The bear grabbed a napkin and wiped his paw clean then offered it to the corgi. "Right. First thing's first. Clothes off, my boy."

"What?!" The corgi squeaked in horror suddenly, the realisation of what he had just agreed to came home. The bear could do anything, or make him do anything... He gulped in fear, and yet felt his pants tightening as his cock popped free of his sheath. Hanging his head, he stood up. He had given his word as an Englishman; maybe the bear would honour his word, maybe he wouldn't, but Malcolm would die before he broke his own. As he pulled his shirt off he asked the first question that came to mind to try and keep his thoughts off what was to come. "Did you really take the King's shilling?"

"Ha! You don't take the King's shilling, boy; it takes you. They never warn you that you need that advance to buy a hammock, a blanket, clothes... and without it, I had to take a loan out. Took me years to pay off that loan. Nobody fucks you as hard as the navy if you don't 'volunteer'." The bear snarled softly as he spoke, thinking back to the innocent boy he had once been. However, his eyes were drawn to the boy's chest. It was slim and yet fit; there was some muscle there, he was not really a boy but a man still on the cusp of boyhood. His fur was that classic corgi pattern, with creamy chest and stomach, followed by fields of golden fur on his flanks, and lastly the darkest chocolate brown on his back down to his little tail. The bear couldn't help but note the tail wagging slowly and a slight tent in the canine's pants.

His instincts about the canine had been dead on; he was into cock, of course. Even as a young bear, he'd had a sense for that. Hell, at the boy's age, he'd been in the navy five years and sucked more cock than he could count. His ass had been fucked raw on many occasions, and he'd even gotten to fuck a couple of guys. After all, it was a long time between ports, and even the straight guys were willing to pound ass when there was no pussy for months. That is where the bear had honed his skills, on male after male, serving like a good crewman. There wasn't anything he didn't know about pleasuring the male body.

The boy was visibly shaking as he reached down to unfasten his pants. That is when the bear pounced. Stepping forward, he enveloped the boy in his powerful arms, stifling the boy's confusion with soft lips. The boy resisted the kiss at first and then, as he felt the warmth of the bear and the strength, he found himself melting into both the kiss and the bear's embrace. His fears began to fade as he felt the tenderness in the bear's lips and the safety of his powerful arms and body. His tiny frame almost seemed to disappear as he pushed into the stronger male.

The bear opened his lips a little, and then his tongue gently wormed against the corgi's lips. Malcolm opened his mouth a little in surprise; no kiss he had ever shared with Mary had been like this, had made him feel like this. His heart was racing, he could feel his cock aching in his pants. With a shock of realisation he admitted to himself that some part of him wanted this to happen.

The bear's tongue was warm and gentle as it slipped only slightly into his mouth, stroking his tongue with a tenderness he could not believe the brute possessed. That was when he got his first taste. Mixed with the fine wine and port flavour on the tongue was a spicy muskiness, that was strangely addictive. Without thinking, he started to suckle on the tongue, moaning in pleasure, as his own tongue slid back against the ursine's.

It was John who broke the kiss, the bear smiling and then kissing the confused corgi on the forehead, before leaning to whisper in his ear. "Don't worry; this won't be like my first time. Nobody is gonna hold you down and ignore the screams, I promise. Almost no pain, and so much more pleasure than you ever thought you could feel."

Shivering at the horror of the first few words, yet feeling reassured by what the bear said, the dog gained control of himself. The bear's paws slipped down to his pants, and Malcolm heard him whisper, "Just relax and let me help you."

The corgi did as he was told, holding still as the white ursine paws unfastened and pulled his pants down, brining his fully erect shame into the candlelight of the captains quarters. The dog braced himself for some sort of crowing from the bear as he saw he was erect.

Instead, the bear just stepped back and gasped as he glanced over every inch of the naked corgi. "You are beautiful, a true work of art. Michelangelo himself could not have created something as sublime as you." Malcolm blushed a little, suddenly feeling shy of his body and yet incredibly flattered. Nobody had ever called him beautiful. He could see the desire and lust in the bear's eyes. It should have repulsed him, and yet he felt himself strangely drawn to the bear.

The bear stepped forward and leaned down. Malcolm lifted his muzzle, expecting another kiss to his lips, only to feel soft kisses landing on his chest. Two strong paws grasped his ass, making him squeal and yet making his cock drip with pre. He was lifted, like he was a bag of feathers, by arms far stronger than his own, and found himself being placed on the table. The polished surface felt cold against his buttocks. He shivered and then gasped as he felt a warm tongue running over his nipple. He felt sparks of pleasure shooting through his body. Nothing he had ever done had felt like that. He couldn't imagine his Mary licking his nipple, looking at him with eyes so hungry he knew that she wanted to devour him whole. She was such a perfectly English woman; it wouldn't be proper. She had barely let him kiss her on the lips; sex before marriage was inconceivable.

John had no intention of stopping at the nipple. He knew this was a young male, almost certainly a virgin. With a proper Christian upbringing, he may have never even masturbated. All of which would make his task so much simpler. The boy was ripe, his body was crying out for the bear. When he finally took him, it would be so perfect and so beautiful that he knew he would never let the canine go again. His nose nuzzled lower, his tongue tasting the sweat and fear on the canine's fur, the battle had obviously scared the boy out of his wits. However, now he could taste strong hints of aroused canine. He knew the flavour well.

Malcolm cried out as he felt a warm, broad tongue lash over his erect drooling cocktip. He gasped as a warm maw surrounded his length, the huge white head bobbing in his lap. To his shame, he couldn't resist his own urges. He started to thrust into the bear's maw, loving the sensations. The pleasure running from his cock was unlike anything he had ever felt. Even on those nights he had abused himself, knowing full well Christ was watching his perversion, it had felt like the merest shadow of the pleasure the bear was bringing with his warm mouth and eager tongue.

His paws grasped at the huge head and shoulders, his hips thrusting eagerly, his young voice lifting and crying out. The bear suckled on the corgi's meat, using every trick he had learned, his tongue teasing the tip and writhing against the shaft. Then after less than a minute, he heard the boy crying out in pleasure and tasted the sweet essence of youth being spent onto his hungry tongue. This was the first step: Show him pleasure, make sure he had spent his first load, so that he would not get release easily later. That would allow the bear to play the corgi along and would eventually be the boy's downfall. However, Malcolm knew none of that; all he knew was the pure bliss of the most powerful orgasm of his entire life taking hold of him, making him cry out so loud, everyone on the ship probably heard, but he didn't care who knew, he just wanted to feel more.

Swallowing the sweetness, John continued to milk the cock, squeezing it in his maw and then, as the flow finally slowed to a few drips, he pulled off. The canine's cock beginning to shrink back a little, as the boy panted heavily. The elder bear smiled and licked his lips as he leaned close and kissed the panting corgi. This time he thrust his tongue into Malcolm's mouth and swirled it around, sharing the taste of the corgi's cum. Malcolm struggled for a moment and then accepted the tongue and kiss, moaning softly at the taste.

Eventually, the bear broke the kiss again and smiled at the canine, noting with a quick glance the boy was already fully erect. The wonders of youth, soon to be part of the perils of youth. He picked the corgi up in his arms, the young man offered no resistance as the bear carried him over to his large bunk. Throwing him down on the cotton sheets, the bear smiled down at him, and then with strong paws he rolled the dog onto his stomach.

Malcolm was unable to suppress the whimper of fear in his throat as he was turned ass up on the captain's bed. The bear stroked strong paws down the dog's back and gave a soft shush. "Easy there, my sweet dog. Remember my promise - no holding you down, no painful rutting. Just relax and let your captain show you how good you can feel."

The corgi felt a little reassured and yet definitely, deeply exposed as he lay there. However, the mattress was soft and warm, the sheets surprising clean-smelling. He had expected a pirate's bed to be a stinking, flea-infested hole. He whimpered again as the bear's paws landed on his rump, the touch was once again surprisingly gentle as the paws lightly pulled his cheeks apart. Then he felt warm breath blowing down his crack, and he squirmed. He had never thought anyone would ever do what was about to happen to him; to a good Christian Englishman, it was a task far beyond any that Hercules had bested.

Smiling, the bear leaned down closer and scented the boy's rear - clean and yet musky from a day's toil and fear. He pressed his nose down between the corgi's cleft cheeks and snuffled, the squeals and moans music to his ears, but just the overture; the symphony was yet to begin. He started by nuzzling down the canine's taint and lapping over his musky orbs. Knowing that the young good Christian officer would not believe anyone would do what he was planning, the tongue bath of his balls was a good distraction. It calmed the boy's nerves.

Clawing at the sheets a little, Malcolm couldn't stop from moaning as he felt the warm strong tongue lapping over his balls. He had never felt anything like it before; it was another new sensation to add to those the bear had already brought him. Then he felt the bear nuzzling down his taint, licking it and nipping a little. The sensation, so alien and yet so pleasing, each nip sending a tiny thrill of pleasure coursing through his body.

Then the bear moved to the next step. His tongue had delved through the musky fur of the boy's taint, and now it ran over the sweetness of his virgin entrance. Malcolm's cries joined the music of the night. The bear felt the boy clenching down. He knew that wouldn't do; he needed the boy relaxed. His large paws reached up and began to massage the young man's shoulders firmly, as he continued to lap in circles around the pucker. His strong paws worked slowly down the young male's back, soothing him.

Moaning and gasping into the sheets, Malcolm could not believe he was laying face down on another man's bed, while that man licked his ass. It was so perverse, definitely against God, and yet his cock was aching for him to touch it as he soaked the sheets in pre. Unfortunately, he couldn't touch it as it was under him, and the bear's magic paws here holding him down firmly, as they massaged every muscle in his back to perfect relaxation.

Feeling the male's doughnut finally relax, the bear moved forward, thrusting his tongue into the male. He met resistance at first, but his preparation of the boy had been expertly done... and more than that, he would not be denied his prize. Determination saw his tongue spreading the boy's ring and thrusting into the depths of the corgi. Another squeal broke the night, yet he knew the boy felt no pain; it was a squeal of pleasure, of pure adulterated bliss.

Swirling his tongue around inside the young male, he moaned at the taste. There was nothing more delicious than a virgin ass, and the bear was hungry. He began to feast, delving deeper and deeper swirling his tongue around, and then his tongue tasted the metallic flavour of the boy's sweet spot. Smiling, the bear began his assault, thrusting his tongue into it again and again. Malcolm found his voice again, gasping and crying out into the sticky warm Caribbean evening.

His tongue worked faster and faster, and he slid one paw under the boy and began to stroke the canine cock slowly. Unable to contain himself, the dog began to thrust into the huge warm paw. Smiling at the dog's eagerness, John continued to lick and thrust against the sweet nub inside the boy's ass. As he did so, he listened, not just with his ears, but with his tongue and paw, checking the boy's heart rate, breathing, the heat of his body. He waited for the perfect moment.

Malcolm squirmed and thrust, caught between two pleasures he had never known - the feel of another's hand on his cock and the feel of something stroking his prostate. He could feel his body getting ready; his balls were singing to him, another powerful orgasm was on its way, and he was desperate to give himself over to the pleasure of it. He closed his eyes, ready to bask in the sensations, and then suddenly, they were gone. The paw pulled off his cock and the tongue was removed from his ass. "Wha...?"

"It's not time yet, Mal," John smirked. He stripped off his shirt and pants with the speed of a truly horny expert seducer. Malcolm glanced around and then stifled a whimper as he saw the bear's huge and fully erect black shaft dripping pre mere inches from his ass. Sure, a tongue had felt great inside him, but there was no way he could take that monster without it hurting or ripping him apart.

"Shhh, my boy... no pain, remember? Besides, you are going to beg for this cock by the end of the night. That won't happen if it hurts, now will it?" The bear leaned down and kissed the corgi's shoulders and whispered. "Don't worry; tonight will be the best night of your life... so far anyway."

The bear's words had a certain logic to them, and so far, he had been as good as his word - the boy had felt nothing but pleasure, although his balls were tingling now, thanks to the bear taking him right to the peak. So he held still and kept his word, letting the bear do as he wished. John grabbed a jug of oil he had placed on the window by the bed. The sun's rays heated it up every day, but he knew by this hour of the evening. it would have cooled enough that it would just be warm.

Pouring a splash onto the corgi's pucker he heard the dog utter a soft moan. "See? No pain," he whispered as he reached out with a single digit and began to rub the pucker, flooded with thick oil. Malcolm cried out softly in response, the warm oil oozing down his taint felt strangely nice. However, he didn't get to concentrate on that feeling long; the thick digit teasing his virgin entrance was all he could think about. The bear pulled on one side of the boy's pucker, tugging it open just a little, and then splashed more oil, the thick liquid seeping into the boy's hole.

The bear's digit pressed on the very slick pucker and it opened up, swallowing his fingertip. Malcolm gasped loudly as the bear's finger penetrated his defences. It felt strange, smaller than the tongue, but more solid. It didn't hurt, and then it was gone as the bear pulled it out. Another splash of warm oil was poured into the open hole before his muscles could fully contract. Then the finger returned, working deeper, working the oil deeper inside him. The sensations were strange and yet pleasurable, and as he felt the bear reach the second knuckle, he moaned deeply in pleasure.

It was easy from that moment for the bear to go deeper, getting his finger fully inside the boy. He could feel the strong squeezing of the corgi's muscles as they fought against the unnatural and yet pleasing feelings. The boy's gasping and moaning echoing in his ears, he listened to this act of the sympathy with the careful ear of the expert. Stroking slowly, twisting gently as he stretched the boy's hole. To have a near pain free entry would be difficult in one so tight; he had to work the boy open, and he knew it. He also knew, if he thrust in and fucked the boy, like his cock was screaming at him to do, he would lose the bet. Patience was the order of the day.

Instead, he started to gently finger-fuck the boy, twisting and twirling his finger, moving it around, until a sharp gasp of pleasure and a squeeze around his finger told him he had found the boy's sweet spot. Then he stroked it with each gentle thrust, making Malcolm cry out in pleasure again and again. The bear reached under the dog and grasped his cock, stroking the dripping length in time with his thrusts. Then whenever the boy was about to peak, his paw would pull back and his finger would stop. The bear would whisper, "It's not time yet" to the confused and desperately horny male.

Judging the time to be perfect, a second finger was added, without a whimper or struggle. It sank into the silken depths easily, the youth's ass almost sucking the extra width inside. Two fingers allowed the bear to wriggle in opposite directions, speeding up the stretching. More oil was poured, and more still. The boy's ass was glistening, his taint and balls were drenched, yet more oil would be needed before the end. The bear's paw returned to the dog cock and stroked once more. This time the boy reached his peak much faster, and the bear let go just before he could get release. The frustrated youth humped down into the blanket, but to no avail, as a firm bear paw pressed him down hard, stopping him from pleasuring himself to completion. "None of that, boy; you just let your Captain do as he wishes. That was part of the wager. Go doing what you want, and you lose the bet."

The bet... how had he forgotten about the wager, Malcolm wondered as the bear's fingers began to move again. Soon all thoughts of it were driven from his mind again, as a third finger was added to the mix. New sensations filled him as new parts of him were caressed, as his ring stretched further. Crying out again and again, the canine was growing desperate, his balls were aching and his cock was throbbing. The bear keep stroking him to the edge again and again, yet each time his body was denied the release it was screaming for.

Smiling and reaching down, the bear began to stroke his own drooling cock. Pouring a huge dollop of oil over his length, he stroked it slowly. The adagio was almost over. It was time for the third movement of his symphony - the minuet of bear penetrating canine ass. In sex, just as in music, timing is vital; it was important to keep the rhythm. He also knew that the second he pulled his fingers out of the boy, his ass would start to close again.

Malcolm was oblivious to all of this, the ship could have been on fire or sinking, for all he cared. The only thing he was aware of was the feelings in his ass, the ache of his balls, the throbbing of his cock. He was so desperate to cum he could hardly contain himself. The only thing that stopped him was his word - he couldn't break his word. Then suddenly, the fingers were removed from his ass, and he felt empty and unfulfilled in a strange and horrible way. He cried out in confusion, only to feel bear paws on his ass and then a thick lump pressing to his pucker. It stretched him wider than the fingers and forced it's way inside. He whimpered as for the first time, a small blossom of pain formed in his mind. It stopped as the bear stopped thrusting.

John stopped himself as he heard the whimper, his paws started stroking down the dog's back and sides as he made soft cooing noises. He could feel the boy's ass clenching around his cocktip, and the sensations in his cock were so powerful, all he wanted to do was fuck the boy hard, fast, and deep. However, he knew that if he did, all he would get was that one night. He knew he would hate himself in the morning for the hurt he had brought the boy. Instead, he held firm, letting the boy get used to the girth inside him.

It didn't take long for the pain to fade and the corgi's breathing to return to normal. Then the bear made his move - the most gentle of thrusts, his cock barely moving a fraction of an inch deeper before it stopped. Then after a few seconds, another thrust just as gentle. The bear leaned over the younger male, his muzzle nuzzling the boy's shoulder comfortingly. The old bear preferred this position, because his partner had no chance to see the scars that lined his back. Patches of fur were missing, and even in the dim light, the lines of old lash strikes could clearly be made out.

As he leaned over the younger male, thrusting slowly and gently, a small necklace slipped out of his chestfur and danced on the corgi's back - two coins with holes punched roughly through to allow for a thin silver chain, which hung around the bear's huge neck. Malcolm moaned softly with each thrust; he felt more full, but there had been no pain since the initial entry. The warm, full feeling was nice. As the bear's cock pressed deeper, it started to brush over his already teased, prostate. Warm sensations shot up his back and down to his cock. He gasped at that, his ass clenching and trying to squeeze the invading maleness.

John gasped a little himself as he felt the squeeze around his cock. Once more, he felt the strong urge to fuck the boy hard fast and deep; once more, he resisted, and instead he continued his slow gentle rhythmic thrusting. his meat already three quarters inside the boy. Six inches of his cock were inside corgi, being squeezed and caressed by warm silken walls. Nothing could stop him getting the rest of his cock into the dog beneath him.

Kissing the dog's ears and whispering soft words of encouragement to Malcolm, the bear gasped happily, feeling himself hilt inside the boy, his hips flush to the dog's ass, his huge balls resting on the boy's smaller aching pair. Holding his hips still, the bear reached under the corgi and his thick digits wrapped around the dog's aching and drooling cock.

He stroked the doghood gently as he kissed and nipped on the boys neck, before he pulled back and inch of cock and then thrust forward burying himself back in to the hilt. Malcolm cried out, not in pain but deep pleasure, as the bear's cock stroked over his prostate firmly. A second thrust was followed by a third, each one gentle but with growing length and strength.

The corgi could not believe the sensations shooting through him as the bear fucked him. He found himself lifting his ass up to the bear. The paw around his cock was stroking him faster and faster. Biting the sheets, he felt his orgasm fast approaching again, his needy balls ached and begged him to let them release. Whining and moaning, the dog felt the bear's paw slip away. He whined and tried to reach under himself, only for John to grab both his hands, placing them by his head, with the bear's huge paws on his, fingers laced squeezing as he whispered, "Not yet, my boy."

The bear smiled as with each thrust the dog pushed back into him. The boy wanted it. He used careful aim, making sure to strike the dog's prostate with each and every thrust. Just grazing it at first, and as the thrusting got faster and harder, his aim shifted, hitting it more and more. With the corgi's hand's held down the boy was unable to stroke himself off. This was part of the bear's plan. Malcolm was already desperate to cum; he was whining and moaning, bucking into every thrust, rubbing his cock on the sheets.

John thrust faster and faster, breeding the boy properly, his hips smacking into the slender canine hips with such force Malcolm could feel the impact reverberating through his entire body. Finding his voice out of his control he gasped out, "Yes... oh dear God, yes!" as the thick bear cock reamed his ass deep and hard. He couldn't believe the sensations his body was flooded with. He loved every single thrust. His cock was begging, his balls were aching. He squirmed under the bear, desperate to get enough friction on his cock to allow him to cum.

The bear groaned deeply in pleasure as the boy squirmed under him, the additional motions adding to the pleasure of the rutting. It gave him the sign that it was time to increase the pace, rutting as fast and hard as he could, driving into the boy's prostate without mercy. His senses were alive, and he listened to his lover, focusing entirely on the sounds, scents, and sensations from the dog.

Squirming and crying out, the dog could feel his orgasm building inside him, even without full stimulation. He felt like he had climbed to a peak far higher than anyone knew existed. He could not wait for release. Every fiber of his being was screaming for his orgasm to take hold. He could feel it - the build up in his mind, his body tensing, his balls churning, his cock throbbing and pulsing. He knew that his orgasm was going to hit him; he closed his eyes and prepared to bask in bliss unimaginable.

Sensing his moment was right, the bear pulled his cock out completely. The corgi squealed in frustration, "Nooooo! Don't stop, don't stop!!!"

"Are you saying you want my cock? You want me to fuck you?" panted the bear, unable to contain the grin on his face.

"Yes! Oh God, yes, please fuck me... fuck me now!!!" Malcolm, couldn't remember the bet, or his father or anything beyond the need for release. His hormones and emotions were a raging maelstrom inside him, howling for the orgasm they so desperately needed.

"Are you begging for my cock?" whispered the bear.

"Yes!!! I'll do anything, anything! Just please, let me finish," whimpered the corgi... and that was all the bear needed. He had won, and to the victor go the spoils. He thrust his cock back into the dog, the thick member sliding easily into the stretched ass. There was no gentle entry this time, or slow rhythmic fucking. He bred the dog, fast and brutal, using every ounce of bestial strength he could muster.

Not that it mattered to Malcolm. The hard brutal fucking was an endless battering to his prostate. It wasn't long before his need to orgasm took hold of him. This time, the bear didn't stop, and he cried out into the night, screaming and howling as his entire body convulsed. Canine cock sprayed jet after jet of cum onto the sheets as he drained every pent-up drop.

The tightness and massage of the corgi's ass around the bear's cock as he came was too much for John. He lifted his polar head and roared in triumph as he pumped his new conquest full of thick hot bear seed. His hips kept moving long past the point either one of them remained conscious. The two lovers passed out to the bliss of the afterglow.

It was well after the sun peaked over the horizon that John awoke. Malcolm was curled up in his arms fast asleep. His cock had slipped free of the dog during the night. The bear carefully slipped out of bed. The dog stirred and moaned but did not wake. John turned to look down at the dog, a tear building in his eye. He reached up to his necklace fingering the two coins there.

They were both shilling coins, old ones, at least thirty years. When he awoke after the press gang bludgeoned him unconscious, one of those coins had been in his paw. The other, he had taken from around the neck of another sailor, after he had no more use for it. He could still remember the body as it hung from the yard arm, the eyes open as if looking at him.

Unfastening the chain he took the other sailor's coin off the necklace and walked over to the bed. Placing it in the paw of the sleeping corgi. Then he wandered out of the room, fully naked into the cool morning air and onto the deck. He leaned on the railings and looked out over the horizon and thought back on his life.

So it was that Aron, his first mate, found him. His nakedness was nothing new or that the horse hadn't seen before. "Did you get your dog?"

John didn't turn round he kept his eyes fixed on the horizon. "Aye, I did, and he was as sweet as a bear could ever hope for."

"Been a long time since... you slept with a canine," observed the horse, his voice holding more than a note of caution. The observation was loaded with questions that the bear knew were coming.

"Aye... it wasn't fair, you know. But for random chance, I could have pulled the short straw," the bear whispered sadly, half to himself more than his friend.

"I was there, I pulled a long straw same as you. We didn't know though. We thought worst that would happen, for a mug of water and half a mouldy loaf, was a couple dozen lashes." Aron placed his paw on the bear's shoulder. "He was my friend... they both were, and it wasn't right or fair. There's no fair in this world save the fair we make ourselves."

"He looks just like him," John whispered, taking his eye off the horizon to glance at his cabin.

"He was a lot older than that when I met him," observed the horse.

"We... grew up together. We were going to start a farm somewhere in the new world. Then a press gang swings by the pub..." Tears streamed down the old bear's face.

"Aye, so you told me... he was a good man and a good friend," Aron replied softly, this was far from the first time they had had this conversation.

"I'm cashing in, soon. A couple more ships. Maybe just one, if we hit a nice fat merchant vessel. Then I'm out, back on dry land, and I'll never go sailing again," muttered the bear changing the subject.

This drew a surprised look for the horse, since the day of the mutiny, John had wanted nothing more than to hurt the navy, to make them bleed for what they did to his first love. "You... going to buy a farm?"

"No... that was our dream, and I couldn't face it without him." The bear paused and thought for the moment. "A vineyard. That's what I'll buy. I can spend my days making wine and my nights drinking myself back into the poorhouse I came out of. You can have the ship if you want."

"Me? Captain? Not bloody likely. I got some loot saved; maybe I'll buy a homestead near you. Or we could buy a vineyard together." The horse chuckled softly at the images in his head. "You drink the wine, I'll get the local fillies drunk and let them forget they have husbands."

"Ha! Sounds like a fine exciting retirement," chuckled the bear.

"What about the dog?" Aron asked in a low voice.

"He belongs in my bed until I retire. After that... he can come with me or go where he likes. I would treat him nice, keep him well... I could do a lot for him." The bear's voice almost sounded as if he was pleading as he whispered the last part.

"Could you love him?" the horse asked softly.

The bear didn't answer. He just looked out over the horizon, watching the sun dancing off the waves. Eventually, he spoke. "It'll be his choice. I gave him Paul's shilling..."

The horse whinnied deeply in shock and blinked. Any other person would ask him if he really did give the young dog the King's Shilling, taken from the lifeless neck, of his boyhood love. However, Aron knew the bear never said anything he hadn't done. There was no point questioning it. "Well, maybe there's hope for you after all."

"Dunno, it's a terrible thing to do. Put the King's Shilling in someone's hand while they are out." The bear snorted. "You don't take the shilling, the shilling takes you, eh mate?"

"Aye, it does. But sometimes, if you are lucky, you can take yourself back."