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Thomas Paige has always hated this time of a month. He remembers the first time he started bleeding. How he was crying from the pain with his head in Frances’s lap, ugly sobbing in her skirts. “Will it always be that awful?” he asked her in a broken voice. “It feels like I’m dying…” “Hush, darling, I know it hurts, I know,” his sister was stroking his hair, “but there is a wise woman living on the outskirts. She knows herbs that can make it hurt less.” The next day they left the town to visit the ’witch’ as their parents called her, but Frances told Thomas that her real name was Theresa. She was a kind, wispy old woman, who petted Thomas’ hair and gave him a bunch of herbs that were supposed to relieve the pain.
When he was leaving for good, she gave him a big stash of herbs which would almost completely contain his bleeding. And they did.
Well, they did until he ran out of them and woke up in the middle of the night to a splitting pain in his lower belly and a suspicious wetness between his legs.
For the first few seconds he thought he was dying, but then he realised the truth. The awful pain in his abdomen and the dampness were very telling, after all. He lowered his hand between his legs, then brought it to his face. It reeked. He reeked. And his fingertips tasted of metal. He knew perfectly well what it meant—he was bleeding again, but this time Frances wouldn’t be there to stroke his hair, soothe him and lend him a hand with laundering the stained sheets. There was only one person who could help him now. Only one person he could trust with this shameful secret.
He had to go to Captain Randall.
Thomas was standing, bent almost in half, and looking at the door to the Captain’s apartments. There was still time to change his mind and… just do literally anything other than knocking. For example, change his name and board on a ship sailing to the West Indies. Or curl up and die, since that was a preferable alternative to enduring a week of the torment his own goddamned guts were inflicting on him.
No. He forced himself to straighten his back, not without some difficulty. He couldn’t throw away everything he’d worked so hard to achieve. He would make Frances proud of him. Maybe he’d even make Captain Randall proud of him. But first, he had to get his own bloody body under control again.
He raised his hand and knocked on the door to the devil’s den.
After what felt like a hundred years, he heard footsteps and the Captain’s deep voice, muttering curses. “Whoever you are, you better have a damn good reason to bother me at this bloody hour…”
The door opened and the boy saw Captain Randall, standing there in all his naked, loose-haired glory. Thomas almost moaned at the sight. He couldn’t stop himself from eyeing this beautiful man, couldn’t stop his gaze from wandering downwards, to this perfect cock… Oh, how he wanted to have a cock like that, instead of this terrible, cruel, bleeding thing he had between his legs.
The Captain loudly cleared his throat. Thomas almost jumped.
“Were you so desperate for cock that you awoke me in the middle of the night, or do you have an actual purpose?” the man asked with his usual sneer.
Thomas swallowed. “I–I need your help, Sir…”
The dark eyebrows went up.
“Do I look like a parish charity to you, lad?”
Damn. But to be honest, what did he actually expect? That this man would pat his head and help him wash out the blood on his sheet, like Frances used to do? Ridiculous.
“I don’t give anything away for free, boy. There’s a price.”
Well, maybe there still was hope.
“What kind of price, Sir?”
Randall snorted. “Really, are you still playing so naive? You know well by now how our arrangement works. If I am to give you something you want, you must give me something I want in return. And you’ve been holding out on me, haven’t you?”
“I–I’m not sure what you mean, Sir…” Thomas said in a voice barely louder than a whisper. He was actually very sure he didn’t know what the Captain meant. And didn’t really want to know.
“You think I don’t know why you’re here, private?” The man touched his hair and coiled one wisp of the boy’s hair around his finger. “I can smell it on you, and I’m sure it won’t be long before those wolves you call your fellow soldiers will too.”
It was humiliating, but Thomas very much wanted to cling to the man. “But you won’t let them, will you, Sir?” He was probably babbling, but he didn’t care. “Don’t let them take me, please…”
He could hear the amusement in the Captain’s voice as he spoke. “No need to worry, private. I don’t like others touching my property. Now get inside before someone latches onto you standing there like some sorry little orphan.”
Thomas went into the Captain’s lodgings like a condemned man goes to the gallows. Randall closed the door behind him. Thomas felt a little pang of excitement in his stomach, but decided to blame it on the cramps. He was in fact getting strangely aroused by this situation, but would unswear it before even Frances and God himself.
“Undress and get on the bed. Now.”
Thomas obeyed, wincing from the pain.
“On your back,” Randall ordered. “Spread your legs for me, there’s a good lad. Now touch yourself.”
The boy lowered his right hand between his legs hesitantly, and lightly touched his clit with two fingers. It wasn’t particularly pleasurable, and he felt uncomfortable being on full display before this man. A sudden twist of pain in his guts made him hiss. The Captain might have tsked at that.
“No, boy.” He came closer to Thomas and sat on the edge of the bed. “Do not tease yourself,” he said, surprisingly softly. “There will be time for it, if that’s what you need. But now I want you to cup your cute little cock and balls and fuck your hand, can you do it for me, Tommy? As such an upstanding soldier, I’m sure you aren’t afraid of a little blood.”
“Yes, Sir, I can, Sir,” he answered in a moan and started pleasuring himself more vigorously. “And no, Sir, I’m not afraid of blood.” He wasn’t sure if he’s ready to admit how much of an impact had on him Captain Randall actually calling his sex ’cock and balls’. As if he were a real man.
He moaned with pleasure. “Oh yes, Sir, fuck…”
“Enough for now,” Randall cut in. His voice was calm but firm.
Thomas stopped immediately.
“There’s my slutty little boy. Now put your dirty fingers in your mouth.”
He obeyed after a moment of hesitation.
“That’s it. Suck them clean and then show me, lad.”
Thomas obediently licked the dark blood of his digits. It wasn’t the tastiest thing he’s had in his mouth, but neither the worst.
“Yes, just like that.” One of Captain Randall’s big hands found its way to Thomas’s hair and stroked. The boy whimpered.
He pulled his fingers out when he was sure they’re clean, and raised his hand to show the Captain how dutifully he’d followed the instructions.
“Good lad,” the man praised. “But I can’t let you have all the fun, now can I? It’s my turn.” He took his hand away from Thomas’s hair and moved to kneel between the boy’s legs. Lowering his head, he spoke, his breath hot on Thomas’s sex, “Let me soothe you, boy. Your poor, sensitive little cunny. Let me take care of you.”
Thomas moaned loudly as the older man licked a long trace along his cunt. He’d always considered his genitals — unfitted to whom he truly was — gross, and with all the blood it must have been even worse, but apparently not for Captain Randall. Oddly, the man seemed to actually enjoy it.
“You have the cutest cock I’ve seen in my life, Tommy boy,” he murmured against Thomas’s sex. “Such a handsome little prick…” He was sucking and licking at the boy’s clit with so much dedication as if he wanted to devour him whole.
Thomas moaned and canted his hips up.
“Ah-ah.” The Captain chastised him with a light smack to the side of his thigh. “Lie still, private, and don’t be greedy. You’re a soldier in His Majesty’s army, you can take everything your Captain intends to give you, right?”
Thomas’s only answer was a pitiful wail, which earned him another slap.
“I asked you a question, private.”
Through the haze of pain, fear and arousal, the boy realised his Captain would not continue until he got an answer.
“Yes, Sir,” he managed. “I can… I can t-take it all…”
“Good boy.” Captain Randall lowered his head and started suckling on Thomas’s clit again. The boy had to bite on his bottom lip to stifle the sounds that threatened to spill.
“No, lad,” Randall murmured against his cunt, “don’t hold back. I want to hear all those delicious noises you’re making.”
Thomas complied, a little reluctantly, ashamed of being so loud but not wanting to disobey the Captain. He actually might have screamed as he reached his peak and a wave of pleasure bloomed from his abdomen. His belly did not stop hurting, but it hurt less now. Thomas was panting hard.
“Look at me,” Randall ordered. “Do it.”
Thomas supported himself on his elbows and looked at the Captain’s face, now covered in his blood.
“Dirty, disgusting creature,” the man mocked fondly. “Look what a mess you’ve made of me.”
“I–I’m sorry, Sir…” Thomas choked out.
“I should have you lick your mess up, you dirty wench.”
“H-how Sir?”
“Like this. Come here.” The Captain grabbed his chin and forced his lips against his own. He spoke as he kissed him, “Taste what a filthy, delicious little slut you are, boy.”
Thomas did his best to kiss the man back, even though it meant that odd, metallic taste in his mouth.
“Next time I’ll smear this blood all over your tits, lad,” Randall murmured. “Colour these poor, sore little breasts…”
Thomas whimpered pathetically. The Captain shushed him and brushed his sweat-damp hair from his forehead.
“I could fuck you now, you know that?” he said in a conversational tone. Thomas freezed. “Fuck you and spend right inside that sweet bloody cunny of yours, how does this sound, hm?”
Pretty terrifying, if Thomas was to be honest.
“Maybe I could get you with child, baby boy,” Randall continued. “That would be funny, wouldn’t it? You’ve joined the army to avoid marriage and given yourself to me to be allowed to stay, and now it’s going to bite you in the arse… You’re going to be my little wife, aren’t you?”
Thomas closed his eyes and did not answer.
“Aren’t you?” The Captain repeated, louder and harsher.
“I am, Sir, I am…” Thomas whispered, his eyes tightly shut. “Whatever you wish, Sir…”
“Good boy. Now suck me off.”
Thomas crawled off the bed and knelt before Captain Randall. The older man was hard and leaking. Was it possible that pleasuring Thomas with his mouth made him so? No. Impossible. Sentimental and stupid. Thomas opened his mouth and licked along Randall’s shaft.
The man purred with pleasure and rested his hand at the back of Thomas’s head. Taking Randall’s cock deeper into his mouth, Thomas pushed a hand between his own legs to avoid dirtying the floor with more blood.
The Captain chuckled. “I’ve heard that women can be insatiable during that time of the month, yet I’m still quite surprised.”
Thomas didn’t bother correcting him. Instead he circled his tongue around the head of Randall’s cock, just like he knew the Captain liked, wringing a deep moan out of him.
“You little hussy,” the man whispered under his breath.
It didn’t take long before he tightened his hand in Thomas’s hair to hold him close and spurted inside the boy’s throat, salty and hot, not letting go until he was sure Thomas swallowed everything that had been given to him.
They sat in silence for some time — Randall on the bed, Thomas kneeling on the floor, resting his head on his Captain’s thigh.
Randall was the one to speak. “You’ve been withholding a treat from me, boy,” he said with a smirk.
Thomas blinked in surprise, having absolutely no idea what this man was talking about. “A-a treat, Sir…?”
“Yes, lad, a treat. Such a sweet cunny like yours, all covered in blood… what else would you call it, hm?”
An abomination, Thomas thought but didn’t say out loud.
“Admit it, boy. You’re a sight for sore eyes and a treat for each and every twisted bastard this garrison has to offer.”
“I’m a treat?” Thomas whispered, still so very unsure.
“You are, lad. Your delicious bloodied cunny is a treat, never doubt that. Now… What do you need my help with?”
The boy blinked, taken by surprise once again that night. Randall sighed. “You’ve come here claiming you needed my help,” he reminded Thomas. “What was that about?”
Stuttering here and there, Thomas told him everything about the herbs he needed to reduce both the bleeding and pain. The Captain listened, absent-mindedly stroking the boy’s hair.
“I will help you,” he said when Thomas finished, “you’ve earned that. But there’s a condition.”
Thomas swallowed. “What condition, Sir?”
“Once in a while, when I order you to, you’ll skip a dose of these herbs of yours and serve me a feast on your sweet bleeding cunt. Do we have an agreement?”
Thomas nodded, though it was purely reflexive. He understood all the words the Captain was saying, but not the meaning they were supposed to carry together. A ’feast’? On him, bleeding from between his legs? Ridiculous and disgusting. Yet, it probably wasn’t his place to judge Captain Randall’s tastes and fancies. This man was holding his life in his hands, so if he wanted to occasionally bury his (unfortunately very handsome) face in Thomas’s sex during his bleeding, then so be it.
“Yes, Sir, we do have.”
“Good boy. Now get on the bed, let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?”