On the first day, Ragetti learned not to hesitate when Beckett ordered him to play as five pins were plunged into various pain points in his legs.
On the second day, he learned not to stop playing music as he was forced to take his bath in scalding hot sea water with a rough sponge that bruised and tore a bit at his skin.
On the third day, he learned not to ask for food as Beckett allowed a smiling Mercer to choke him until he blacked out with a piece of silken rope.
And on the fourth day, Ragetti learned that Beckett was a pervert.
It was after his bath when he was chained back to his stool that Beckett came in and he flinched and quickly started to play a song for him, his fingers moving over the strings slowly.
Beckett walked over to him and when he rested a hand on Ragetti's shoulder, he flinched and his fingers started to tremble badly.
"Why are you trembling?" Beckett asked. "It's ruining the song and I like this one."
"Sorry." Ragetti mumbled, turning his face away to look at the ground, unaware that he was giving Beckett a good look at his neck.
He shivered as the hand on his shoulder went to his cheek before trailing down the side of his neck to his collarbone.
"You're…actually quite attractive. For a pirate that is." He noted.
Ragetti stopped playing and he turned his back on Beckett as he hugged himself tightly.
"Don' e'en try et!" he demanded, but it sounded more like a weak plea.
Beckett looked at him silently and he smiled a bit as he took a strand of his hair between two fingers.
"The ends of your hair curl up when it dries." He observed. "I like that."
"Don' ye touch me!" Ragetti shouted as he pulled away and he screamed in pain as Beckett suddenly gripped his hair tightly and yanked his head back.
"Who is the master and who is the slave?" he asked, his voice soft and emotionless.
"Yer the masta…" Ragetti whimpered
"And?"
"An' I'm the slave."
"Exactly." Beckett nodded. "Now turn around and look at me, slave."
Ragetti did so and he shut his good eye tightly, his glass eye staring at Beckett as he rested the tips of his fingers on his red lips and traced them.
"They're soft…" he whispered. "That's so odd for a pirate."
"Please!" Ragetti pleaded, his lips starting to tremble. "Don'!"
"What's wrong? I thought you liked men."
"I loved Pinters! No 'un else!" Ragetti snapped angrily.
A sharp slap knocked him back into a whimper and a bowed head.
"You will learn to love me just as much as you did that fat balding bastard!" Beckett said, desperation heard faintly in his voice. "You're my slave and you will love your master!"
The green jacket was roughly taken off and thrown to the ground, Ragetti uttering a weak moan of protest. Beckett seemed to check himself then, and he looked down at the jacket curiously as he began to unbutton Ragetti's maroon shirt.
"How did you get a French jacket?" he asked as the shirt was removed.
"Stole et." Ragetti mumbled, shuddering as Beckett's fingers ghosted over his nipples. Noticing how sensitive they were, Beckett smiled wickedly as he took a hold of them and twisted.
Throwing his head back, Ragetti screamed and whimpered as Beckett's hand was clamped over his mouth.
"Don't make a sound." He purred, kissing away the small bloody tear that slid from under his glass eye.