Cygnus could only glower at the slave for what he had done. Altair only sat there on the floor nonchalantly, not comprehending the magnitude of what he had just done. He was an ignorant walrus, sitting on the edge of ice just before a white bear would emerge from the water and maul him to bits.<i>He dared to write this in my book,</i>he thought.<i>The inheritance to my lineage, and he dared to record his stay on my ship. </i>It was a surprise to be sure, and an unwelcome one at that. He was not truly angry at Altair for what he had written – but why.<br/><br/>Altair had explained it in his polite ways what he had done, but Cygnus knew that there was no incentive for him to simply document the views of a Dusanian slave. True, what had been written was no falsehood – it had all happened. But the slave had written it with the intention of trying to get him punished for it, it seemed. Why else would he name the captain, explaining to any reader what had occurred to him on his journey on the ship? It was not meant to be a tale of glory, recorded in his book as a memento to his descendants. It was a tale of blood, one meant to paint him as a madman in the annals of time.<br/><br/>Whipping the slave again was starting to look more and more tempting. It seemed that no matter what he did, Altair never learned from his mistakes. At every rumble of the ship, the slave sought to spite and insult him. The only thing that chipped away at the endless storage of vanity the slave held was violence, and even that worked for only a short period before he recovered. He circled around to his bed, where the whip had been placed on the floor before he had taken Altair hours before. Crouching down Cygnus picked up the whip, assessing whether or not he should use it.<i>No, </i>he thought.<i>I have a much better idea.</i><br/><br/>He set the whip on his cot, before returning to Altair who was still on the floor. “You look... very tired. How about you rest from scribing for a time, and go outside to the deck? The stars are about to come out, and the moon too. Under moonlight... the sea is quite pretty. Finish your last sentence,” Cygnus said. Once the slave completed his last sentence, the captain grabbed onto his wrist, manhandling him to stand and leading him to the door. “That is a command, not a request.” With the tip of his boot he kicked the door open, dragging the slave out.<br/><br/>The sun was setting on the horizon, drowning out the rich aquamarine hues of the sky in vengeful scarlet, violet where lingering aquamarine mingled with the scarlet. The stars hadn't quite come out yet, still shy, using the scarlet as a blanket to hide their radiance. Cygnus pulled Altair down to the mast, where he had been restrained a day ago. Forcing him to sit, the captain cuffed the slave back to the mast, as he backed away.<i>“Men, I have an announcement,” </i>Cygnus roared, loud enough so that he could be heard across the entire ship.<br/><br/>One by one his crew started appearing, those who had been on the deck coming to him and those who had been below decks rising. Soon, they were all assembled before him, forming a ragtag group off to his left side. The captain turned to face them, staring them dead in the eye. In the night Cygnus took on a more menacing appearance, his hair capturing the shade of the night, as if it were sucking the remaining light from the air. Some of his men were holding oil lanterns, that proved to illuminate only a bit of the darkness.<br/><br/>“Mors... is no longer with us. But we all know that, no? Some of you are grieving for him. I am. Some of you are fearful, because he was one of the most experienced sailors manning this crew and he managed to fall overboard. Some of you are indifferent, because you did not know Mors very well. But, all of you have one thing in common; you are tired. When was the last time you had a good, warm meal? The only meal we can prepare on this ship is tepid beer with biscuits, with pork caked with salt. When was the last time you had a good cunt around your cock, attached to a fair maiden? A long time. Well, I offer you some reprieve.”<br/><br/>The captain gestured to Altair. “<i>He </i>will satisfy all of your needs. Now<i>, </i>some of you may reject the prospect of laying with a man, but,” Cygnus suggested, before pausing. “I assure you... he is quite good at what he does.” He backed away, allowing the men to surround the slave restrained to the mast. “I only have a few rules for you. You cannot make him bleed more than he already has, and you must not bruise him more than you have to. Do not break him. Otherwise you're going to be a eunuch when we hit shore. But you lot aren't too stupid, no? You can surely hold down a whore without bruising him too much. Treat him as you would an expensive whore,” His lips spread in a cruel smile. “Otherwise... you are free to use every hole, hand or limb you wish.”<br/><br/>“<i>Captain, are you mad?” one sailor questioned.</i><br/><br/>“<i>Oi, don't question it. The captain's given us a treat," another chastised. </i><br/><br/>A few of the pirates skulked off, but the majority stayed, encircling Altair. They closed in, some of them reaching for Altair and others undressing. Four grabbed him, one for each of the slave's extremities, and they spread his legs apart. One pirate got between the slave's legs first, preparing to spear Altair with his manhood. Another grabbed onto the slave's luscious hair, using it as a handle to control Altair's head. The sun would rise before all of the crew were satiated by the slave.