Author's Note: I've had numerous requests for a Leonadro Decaprio story. The easiest of his films to write a spanking story from would have been "This Boy's Life", but that's about an abusive stepfather and that just isn't the kind of thing I like to do. Instead, I've gone with "Titanic", which most people will have seen, I expect. And if you haven't, it's about to come out on video. Rent it and you wont be sorry.
Background: For those who haven't seen this movie, Decaprio plays Jack Dawson, an American drifter who winds up on board the doomed liner when he wins a ticket playing poker. One night on board, he rescues a teenaged aristocrat girl named Rose (Kate Winslet) who was contemplating suicide by jumping off the stern of the ship. They fall in love, much to the horror of Rose's mother and fiancée. Between the two of them, they conspire to keep Jack away from Rose; not to hard to do because he only has a third class ticket and is not supposed to be in first class areas. But that didn't stop Jack.
* * * *
Grunting with effort, Jack Dawson pulled himself up over the rail. There, he was up on the first class deck! Now, he just needed to find Rose. He looked around. There were a few people in his immediate area, but they were all watching a little boy who was spinning a top. Great, the boy was a perfect distraction! Jack saw a hat and trench coat laying on a deck chair. He scooped them up and threw them on. Now he wouldn't be immediately recognizable, even if he ran into that creepy lout Lovejoy or even the oily Hocksley. Keeping his head down, he walked down the deck looking for Rose.
She wasn't all that hard to find. Jack was lucky enough to come across Mr. Andrews giving a tour of the ship he had designed and he heard Rose's distinctive voice asking questions. God, how he loved her! He must be crazy, but this wasn't the first crazy thing he'd done in his life.
The tour was moving on and Jack crept up and took Rose by the arm. She looked up and recognized him. Moving quickly, he led her into one of the side cabins and the rest of the group walked on, not even noticing that their number had been reduced by one.
"Jack, what are you doing?" Rose asked as soon as the door was closed and the others were out of earshot.
"I had to see you, Rose," he said as he took of the hat. "This is crazy, I know."
"You shouldn't be here!" she interrupted.
"Rose, please, just let me get through this," He took off his hat and spoke in a slower, more serious voice. "Look, Rose, I'm not stupid. I know the way of the world. I have absolutely nothing to offer you. And you're no picnic. In fact, you're a spoiled brat. But underneath that, you're the most incredible woman I've ever known. Like I said before, I'm involved now. You jump, I jump. I can't leave unless I know that you're all right."
"Well," she said, "I'm fine....now. Thank you. I love Cal and Cal loves me. Everything's fine."
"Really?" he asked with raised eyebrows. "I don't think so."
She didn't answer, but her eyes spoke volumes.
"What they're trying to do to you, Rose, it's so unfair. It'll kill you. Not all at once, because you're strong, but bit by bit that light in your eyes that I love so much will fade out."
"It's not up to you to save me, Jack," she said
He drew back, his eyes filled with longing and disappointment. Still, what did he expect? Her groom to be was loaded with money, all Jack owned was the clothes on his back. How could he blame her?
"Go away, Jack. Leave me alone."
"Good-bye, Rose," he said softly as he pulled away. There was no more he could say. It was what he'd expected, but still, he had hoped....
Opening the door, he left her and went back out on deck. He walked down it in a daze. Even though he had only known her for two days, he realized that she would be the love of his life. There would never be anybody like her again. How could his heart go on without her?
Because he was in such a state, he was not watching where he was going. And that is why he found himself running head on into somebody else. There had been a man standing on the deck facing ahead and he had plowed right into his back. Fortunately, he wasn't walking fast enough to knock either of them down, but the other man did stumble. Trying to regain his balance, he reached out and took hold of Jack's shoulder. Jack started to stammer out an apology when he looked at the face of the man he had just bowled over. To his horror, he recognized Captain Smith.
"See here," the Captain said, "You aren't one of the first class passengers. What are you doing up here?"
"Um, I was just visiting someone. I'm leaving now."
"Visiting, were you?" Captain Smith said doubtfully. "Who were you visiting?"
Jack didn't want to get Rose in any more trouble, so he said nothing.
"Mr. Murdoch," the Captain said to his officer as the man approached, "Do you know this young man."
"I believe his name is Dawson, Captain. Mr. Hocksley invited him to dinner last night as a courtesy to repay a favor, but now the man keeps hanging around and bothering members of Mr. Hocksley's party. Just this morning, he was turned away when he tried to get into the service. He was told to keep to the steerage section of the ship, but I see he hasn't followed instructions."
"Well now," Captain Smith said as his eyes hardened. "We can't have this on my ship. Come along with us."
Holding Jack firmly by the arm, the white-haired man led him toward the bridge. For an older guy, he sure had a strong grip. Mr. Murdoch came along, clearly guarding against the possibility that Jack might try to make a break for it. Silly idea, where would he go? There were on a ship in the middle of the Atlantic surrounded by water. He hoped to see Mr. Andrews. He seemed to be a nice enough man; perhaps he could put in a good word for Jack. But he must still be leading the tour; there would be no help from that quarter.
They reached the bridge and Captain Smith pushed Jack inside and closed the door. There was a sailor at the wheel and he looked questioningly at the officers. The Captain was all business.
"Now, Mr. Murdoch. What shall we do with our trespassing youth."
"Why not put him in the brig until we reach port," the first officer suggested.
"No, that won't do. This is my final voyage and I don't want to have a prisoner in the brig when we pull in to New York. Sure as fate, some newsman will report it and it will put a stain on my last crossing. I want this trip to be perfect!"
"Well, yes Sir. I understand, Sir, but then what do you want done with young Dawson, here?"
"I propose that the miscreant be flogged!" Captain Smith said.
"What!" Jack finally decided he'd better speak up. "You can't do that! I'm a passenger, not a member of your crew!"
"Young man," the Captain said in a low, even voice, "I am the master of this vessel. Everybody on it, from the first mate to the lowest deckhand, from John Jacob Astor to the rats in steerage are subject to my authority while we are at sea. I have the right to have you shot if I so choose. Now I'll give you a choice; either accept your flogging like a man or I'll have you clapped in irons on bread and water for the rest of the trip. Make your choice."
Jack thought. They were still a few days out of New York. He was sure that the brig would be cold and damp. And if he went there, the slightest hope of ever seeing Rose again would be gone. Wouldn't it be worth some pain to avoid that?
"All right," he said in a quiet voice.
"All right, what?" the Captain asked.
"I'll take the flogging," he clarified.
"Smart lad. Mr. Murdoch, could you find a suitable length of rope?"
The first officer went down the passage and soon returned with a thick piece of cotton rope about three feet long. There were knots tied at either end and Jack shuddered as he realized just how much this was likely to hurt.
"First things, first," Captain Smith said. "Get rid of that trench coat."
Jack took it off and carefully laid in on the counter. He didn't want them to see that it wasn't his. He probably would wind up in the brig, then.
"Now, go over by that engine room telegraph," the Captain ordered.
Jack went over to the shining brass device. He noted that the handle was pushed all the way over to 'Full Speed Ahead'. It stood about as high as his middle.
"Now," Captain Smith said from behind Jack, "This is my last voyage and so I will do this myself. Undoubtedly, it will be the last act of discipline done under my watch, and so I shall make sure that it is properly carried out! Mr. Murcoch, unfasten young Dawson's suspenders."
Murdoch was surprised. This wasn't standard procedure, by any means. Still, Captain's orders were to be followed without question. He moved over to the youth and pulled his tan suspenders down over his shoulders.
With his suspenders no longer there to hold up his pants, Jack felt them sliding down his thighs. He wore no underwear and so he was naked from the waist down. The tail of his shirt was too short to cover his exposed backside.
"Now bend over and grab hold of the telegraph," Captain Smith instructed. "And do not let go until I tell you that you may do so!"
Resigned to his punishment, Jack did as he was told. The brisk Atlantic air had chilled the metal and it felt painfully cold against his naked _c_o_c_k_ and balls as he leaned up against the device. He wrapped his arms around it and held on. Briefly, he considered grabbing the handle and ordering the ship into reverse and trying to escape in the confusion. But his pants were around his ankles, he'd trip before he took the first step and then he'd really be in for it. No, best just to take it and hope it wasn't too bad.
Tightly holding the rope, Captain Smith examined the attractive sight before him. He'd flogged a few sailors before, but mostly they had been grizzled salts, hardened by the sea and not worth a second glance. This lad, however, was in the flower of youth and the Captain felt a stirring he hadn't felt in years. Glancing over at Murdoch, he noticed that the man's face was flushed and he was staring in rapt attention at Dawson's bare bottom. Smiling to himself, he realized that Murdoch was having the same reaction that he was. Still, there was the business at hand. Dawson was shifting his feet nervously, no doubt awaiting with dread the first blow. Captain Smith decided not to make him wait any longer. He drew he arm back and swung the rope forward, WHACK!
Jack sucked in his breath as the rough rope wrapped itself around his tender skin. THAT was much worse than he'd been expecting!
WHACK! He grunted and tried to dig his fingers into the metal. This was pure pain! Without missing a beat, the Captain swung the rope again and again. Jack had to fight the urge to cry out as it pummeled his naked ass. The last thing he wanted was for anybody else to come across this scene.
Captain Smith had to admit to himself that he was enjoying this. Most of the time, this sort of thing was just a chore, but watching young Dawson's ass go from white to bright red had brought him to full staff. He made sure to take his time, pausing before each blow, giving the lad a chance to get ready for the next one as well allowing himself to savor the sight of the angry red lines appearing on the boyish cheeks. Captain Smith hadn't had enjoyed a flogging this much since he used to discipline the cabin boy on the freighter he used to pilot many years ago. Unable to resist the urge, he gave Dawson's thighs a few good licks, too. The lad jumped, clearly on the verge of crying out as the rope cut into the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. He could see Murdoch was getting a little concerned and he decided he'd better stop. The lad was a passenger after all, even if only a third class one. But he gave him one more good one, smartly delivered across the center of both buttocks and with all his might.
As this last blow hit Jack's rear, he was unable to stifle a small cry. He was on the verge of breaking down and already silent tears were rolling down his face. Fortunately, there were now more blows forthcoming and he allowed himself to relax.
"Well, that's it, lad," the Captain said. I trust from now on, you will keep to your section of the ship. If I catch you here again, I really will put you in the brig."
He watched as young Dawson stiffly stood up and reached for his trousers. Despite the lad's attempt to hide himself, the Captain got a very good look at his equipment. Despite the youth's lanky frame, his _c_o_c_k_ was both thick and long, hanging unabashedly over a sizable set of testicles. Captain Smith hoped that the lad would get in trouble again and he might find and excuse to visit him in the brig. All too soon, Dawson had his pants back up and re-fastened his suspenders. No one spoke as the embarrassed boy made his way awkwardly out of the door and left the bridge.
With stiff legs, Jack made his way down the steps. The pain in his rear kept him at to a slow pace, but he made his way toward the bow. He reached the front rail and leaned against it, feeling very sorry for himself. He certainly didn't feel like the King of the World now. The sun was beginning to sink in the west and he watched it go. His bottom felt as hot as the sun itself. If only he could find a nice, big piece of ice to cool it down some....