8 comments/  37507 views/  8 favorites

The Sapphic Pirate Miranda Pt. 01

By: JorisKHuysmans



Entries From the Diarie of Miss Esme Winterblossom, a Young Lady of Breeding and Beauty, Who Is Taken Captive By The Sapphic Pirate Miranda And Her Crew of Fat, Half-Naked Hell-Wenches, And Subjected To Dreadful Torments As Well As (It Must Be Admitted) Temptations, Which She Is Not Entirely Able To Resist

* * *

June 8, 17--

Dearest Diarie,

I am most excited by our first day at sea. The Captain, dear Mr. Sutworth, seems a most responsible and capable man, and the men have been most kind in helping me carry my trunks, inquiring after the comfort of my cabin and bedding, and so forth. Aunt Agatha and Rev'd. Pinchwork cautioned me against too close an association with them, saying that sailors are rough in their character and lack a woman's refining touch; but I hope to touch as many sailors as I may, and do not agree that a young lady of beauty and breeding such as myself should avoid any intercourse or exposure to seamen. Indeed, I look forward to receiving seamen regularly at table, or wherever the occasion should present itself.

The dinner bell has rung; I shall return to sharing my confidences with you at the earliest convenience.

* * *

June 14, 17--

Oh my Dear Diarie,

Forgive me for failing in my duty to write to you but I have been greatly vexed by a recent series of events. Within a day of our voyage starting I was virtually confined to my quarters by Aunt Agatha (rest in peace) and that most cruel and unkind Rev'd. Pinchwork. The cause, which I may say was quite imaginary on their part, was what they took to be an excessive degree of contact with seamen. I grew most angry with them and said I would rather enjoy a whole load of seamen than their unfriendly company any day. Aunt Agatha seemed to have a kind of fit after I said that and took to her bed.

After four days of this most unspeakable confinement (during which I could not write to you, Dear Diarie, for fear that your existence would be discovered by my captors and all your Secrets bared) an even more dreadful sequence of events took place. We heard a great deal of shouting and commotion from the decks above, and Rev. Pinchwork took it upon himself to investigate; with Aunt Agatha still ill, however, he felt compelled to take me above board with him in safekeeping.

When we reached the upper deck we found it in utter commotion. When we asked the cause one of the sailors shouted at us, "It is the Sapphic Pirate Miranda and her temptation-drunk crew of fat hell-wenches!" I confess I scarcely understood what these words could mean but they appeared to reduce Rev'd. Pinchwork to a state of utter Terror.

A moment later the ship was shaken to its timbers by a tremendous crash; and it transpired that by the most dreadful luck, the pirates had fired a cannon blast which had gone directly through our cabin, killing poor Aunt Agatha instantly (as I would later learn). Though there is little enough for me to be thankful to Rev'd Pinchwork for, removing me from the cabin most assuredly saved my life, though as will be seen, his intention was hardly preservative. (Thankfully, I had hidden you, Dear Diarie, on my person these several days or you should have been lost as well!)

Within moments the pirates had boarded our ship and slain the poor dear captain and many of his crew, whereupon Rev'd Pinchwork conceived a most extraordinary notion. Maneuvering me to the side of the ship less disturbed by the pirates' depredations, he attempted to explain to me that the pirates and their mistress Miranda were known to be consumed by a most unnatural Lust for their own Sex, and that an attractive young person such as myself, possessed of a warm-blooded temperament (and in that the comparison with his own basilisk-like humour was apparent), could not help but put her eternal soul at risk by suffering the depraved admirations and affections of their type. Therefore, he implored me, if I chose to go to my Savior at that moment by leaping from the ship, he was most certain that no Blame for the sin of suicide could be attached to me, as I would have chosen it over the worse sin of Lesbianism.

When I protested that I had no desire to end my life at such an early age, he grew most angry with me and, calling me a troublesome, stubborn creature, attempted to wrestle me overboard. At that moment a most fearsome pirate rescued me, if that is the word, by splitting his skull with her cutlass. Six feet tall, broad in build, shaven-headed, dressed in leather breeches and boots and yet with both breasts and fat belly exposed for all to see, this "hell-wench" licked her lips as she looked at me, the late Rev'd's blood still dripping from her blade. "You're a fine specimen of an English rose," she said. "I daresay Miranda will find many pleasures to be had with your creamy skin-- if she chooses to save it."

Well, flattered though I am to realize in retrospect the honor that was being bestowed on me, at the time I had no intention of becoming the mistress of a pirate captain, Sapphic or otherwise. "How dare you speak to me that way, you fat cow," said I. "I am Miss Esme Winterblossom, and I demand that you take me to the nearest English port or I shall leap from this ship at once."

"Well blast me for a parson's virgin bride," said the pirate Wench, and she grabbed me around the waist and started to carry me off, pressing my face tightly into one of her enormous sweat-drenched breasts. Powerless to overcome her strength, I did the only suitable thing to one of my position: I fainted.

* * *

June 16, 17--

Dear Diarie, Lone Friend in All the World,

I was confined for a day to a tiny, filthy cabin on the pirate ship, with only the foulest swill for food, before the door was suddenly unlocked and I was dragged out and above decks by two more of these harridan pirate-wenches. Like nearly all the crew on this ship, they were fat and showed off their state proudly, allowing their large hanging mams and their bellies to be displayed unclothed, and many of them decorated with tattoos, jewelry which pierced their flesh, and other such uncouth and savage accoutrements. The ship itself was nothing like poor Capt. Sutworth's, which the men kept so neat; here cats roamed everywhere, there was chamomile tea spilled on near every surface, and at any moment impromptu games of Rugby might be breaking out on deck.

I was hauled upstairs to what I recognized was the captain's deck, and thrown at the feet of yet another tall, broad-shouldered woman with huge breasts, belly and behind, sitting in a high-backed chair while a similarly half-naked Nubian maid painted the toenails of one foot. Blonde curly hair cascaded from the captain's head, whilst one eye was covered with an eyepatch and an assortment of scars disfigured her face and body. An ivory decoration pierced one nipple, to my intense discomfort, and assorted tattoos of a savage design covered other places, including one that seemed to begin at her navel and continue toward her sex. For all that she seemed the very embodiment of degeneracy, however, there was a keen look in her one remaining eye which made it clear that, however Criminal, she was a person of considerable wit and cunning.

As she saw me, she leered and said, "Black pussycat, how would you like to lap up some Devonshire cream?" The Nubian looked at me with hatred. Heavens, it's not my fault I am most beautiful and have an alabaster complexion.

"She says she's Miss Esme Winterbottom," said another fat pirate Wench behind the chair, whom I would learn was the first mate, one Kate.

"Winterblossom," I said, trying not to appear too snobbish in correcting the mistake.

"How'd you like to win 'er blossom," another one behind the chair muttered, and there was laughter and the slapping of bottoms and other horse-play until Captain Miranda held up one hand.

"I have but one question for you, so consider it carefully," said Miranda. "Are ye willing to join my band of BBWs?"

"I do not know what a B-B-W is," said I, truthfully.

"Brazen Buccaneer Wenches," Miranda answered, and the crew exchanged knowing laughter. "We are the boldest, the bawdiest, the baddest big-ass buccaneer wenches on the high seas. Will ye be one of us, or dinner for the sharks?"

"I would prefer to be neither," I said, in my most ladylike fashion. "I ask only to be returned to the nearest British port as quickly as possible."

The pirate wenches around her laughed. "And what will you eat in the meantime?" Miranda asked, to the snickering of several behind her. "There are no freeloaders on this ship. Everyone has a job to do. And the job I have for you, my pretty young miss," and she leaned forward to leer at me, "is to share my bed with me whenever I desire it, or you." As if to emphasize the point, she began to toy with the ivory going through one nipple, and the Nubian maid ran her arm up one of Miranda's thick, sturdy legs. I flushed with embarassment.

Oh, so everything Rev'd Pinchwork had said was correct! "I will do no such thing," I said firmly, fearing the outburst and punishments, even Death, I feared would follow.

But then Miranda surprised me. "Then you may serve as a scullery maid, and learn what life has been like for those who serve you, my fine, fine lady," she said. Suddenly she paid me no more mind. "Take her away," she said, and went on to other business.

* * *

June 18, 17--

Dearest Diarie,

Oh, what a wretched creature I am become! I was set to cleaning up the filthy, rat-ridden scullery, and having paid only the slightest attention to my own maids at their work, must say I made a miserable job of it, as anyone not born to a job will likely do.

I was most despondent over my poor results and the punishments awaiting me when a crew member of my own age named Amelia appeared and seemed to take pity on me, offering to help me finish. She is a little pepperpot of a girl, round-faced and broad-hipped, with a plain yet open and appealing face; though still of the roughness and lack of refinement typical of the women on the ship, there is a good heart in her and I do not know what I would do without her now.

"You are most flushed and sweaty," she said. "You should do as the women on board do in this heat, and remove your upper garments." And with that she lifted her own blouse over her head, revealing that, though she was round and somewhat Chubby, still she had a girlish pertness to her breasts and belly which stood in contrast to the dangling flesh of the older wenches. When she saw that I still hesitated, she said, "Come, there is no one but us women on board. There is no shame in it, and you will be much comfortable and at less risk of apoplexy."

Her medical argument swayed me and I removed my bodice as well. "Oh, you have most lovely small buds," she said. "Mine are so large and ungainly."

I saw that she was saddened by the fact and so I said, purely from kindness, "I do not find them ungainly. Indeed, they seem most... pleasantly round. I am sure many young men would enjoy petting them."

She ignored the last statement and said, "Oh, do you find mine nice? Come, let us compare them!" and she pressed her breasts against mine, holding mine up with her hands so that the nipples of each were at the same level. I must confess that the mere warmth of another person, after so much cruelty, was most welcome and I shut my eyes for a moment and simply enjoyed the kindness she was showing me.

The next thing I know her mouth was on mine and she was kissing me. Oh, Dearest Diarie, I must confess that there was something stirring in me at the instant, not Sapphic feelings of course but such relief that I had at last found a friend and not merely callousness and hatred on board this wretched ship. I let her kiss me and stroke my breasts for a moment as her hot breath on my lips transported me away from my woes. But when she lowered her mouth to suckle at my breast, I pushed her away.

"I thank you for your kindness, Amelia," I said, "but I fear being beaten if I do not finish this scullery. Will you help me?"

"Yes, let us be done quickly," she said, and we returned to scrubbing.

When we were finished scrubbing we turned to sweeping up. "Let me show you a trick," she said, clutching her broomstick.

"Will it make the work go more quickly?" I asked.

"Not exactly," she said, and she placed the broom between her legs, holding the handle in front and the whisk behind her. Then she began to sweep by flicking the broom between her legs.

"That does not seem very helpful," I said.

"Try it," she said. So I placed my broom in the same position and began trying to sweep the floor. If anything, it worked even less well than my previous exertions. "This doesn't help at all," said I.

"Do you not feel it?" she asked. "The tingle?"

"What do you mean?"

"The tingle that relieves the tiredness of your limbs." She dropped her own broom and came over to me. "This will work better, if we use the same one." She gathered up her skirts and pulled the end of my broom tightly between her own legs, then pressed it more firmly against my own nether regions. "You move it like this," she said, "and close your eyes, and you will start to feel the tingle."

As she rubbed the broomstick back and forth between both of our legs, I began to feel the sensation of which she spoke. A warm glow began to grow in my loins, and I felt my sex begin to moisten and the lips of it spread like the petals of a flower (as I describe sensations which I think have never before been described by an Author, I will have to invent many such entirely novel Similes to describe them).

Within a few moments there seemed to be a flame in my loins, and then Amelia was kissing me again, placing her arms around my waist and holding my slender waist against the round expanse of her belly. I confess I wanted her hot breath and tender lips against mine, and kissed her dearly, making no objection as her tongue pushed inside my mouth. She seemed to ride the broomstick as if it were a pony, and as she did her nipples rubbed roughly against mine, and her large round breasts mashed against my delicate buds, and-- oh, Diarie, it was a most delightful sensation to feel her soft and squishy fatness sliding up and down against me.

I took hold of one of her big round breasts with my hand, and put my lips to it and began to suckle at her breast, as she did to one of mine. She moved the broom between our legs faster and faster, and then I felt a most odd sensation build in my loins as I licked and suckled at her soft, large breast, and I clasped my hand around her large soft buttock and pressed her and the broom to me as a volcano seemed to erupt within me, taking with it all the pain and exhaustion of the past few days and filling me only with the desire to hold Amelia close to me and experience this tingle again and again and again.

As the volcano subsided, she kissed me gently, and stroked my face. "My pretty one, we shall be best friends and console each other on this harsh ship," she said.

To which I could only reply, "Oh yes, yes, Amelia my dear, let us be such friends often."

"We shall," she said. "Tonight I will unlatch your cabin, and we may be such friends throughout the night, if you wish it."

"Oh, I do, I do," I said, and once again we covered each other with kisses, and then went to finishing the chores with much joy at the friendship and kindness that awaited me that night. Little did I suspect what really lay in store, Dearest Diarie!

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED...

The Sapphic Pirate Miranda Pt. 02



Part The Second: In Which the Maiden Esme Winterblossom, Taken Captive By The Sapphic Pirate Miranda And Her Crew of BBWs (Brazen Buccaneer Wenches), Finds Solace In The Arms of a Chubby Young Scullery Maid Named Amelia, Who Having Shown Her The Delights of "The Tingle," Promises To Return To The Cabin Where She Is Being Held, That Night For More of The Same

* * *

June 19, 17--

Oh Dearest Diarie,

Good as her word, as night fell Amelia snuck to my cabin, removed the peg that sealed my door from the outside, and crawled in next to me on my miserable beddings. She immediately covered my face with kisses which I most gratefully received, and we spent several minutes simply holding one another. In this short time I had grown to much affection for her round shape, as I believe she had for my slender and far more impressive beauty, and I felt the beginning stirrings of the "tingle" as I caressed her plump round Bottom and stroked her thick short legs under her nightclothes.

She opened the front of my gown and kissed and licked my petite buds, and I most enjoyed the sensation of her lips suckling at my nipples. I did the same to her with her fat round breasts, and squeezed them around my face, rubbing my soft alabaster cheeks against them. As I did so she placed her hand on my thighs under my gown, then slid her hand up until she had reached my sex. By this point my petals had become most embarassingly dewy and it was a simple matter for her to begin sliding her hand up and down them in imitation of the broomstick earlier in the day. I must confess to a most exhilarating feeling as she did this.

After a moment I was astonished that she took her hand away from my drenched sex and put it to her lips, licking it. That she should have such regard for me as to wish to taste my... I had the same desire for her suddenly, wrong though I knew it was, and after keeping my hand timidly along the line of her inner thigh, I suddenly thrust it into her sex, which was as wet and steamy as my own.

We each bucked up and down on the others' hand, and in imitation of her I removed mine from her sex and touched it to my own lips, smearing my face with her wetness. She moaned at this and kissed me, licking my face and climbing atop me, pressing her pubis into mine as if in the conjugal act, her fat belly and big round breasts pressing against me, weighing me down. Then she said "I must taste it, I must," and she climbed down between my legs and began to lap at my sex like a cat at its milk. I could withhold it no longer and soon felt the tingle explode within me at the delicious sensation she was providing me.

As the feeling subsided within me she rolled back on her back and in the dim reflection of moonlight from outside my cabin I looked upon her... yes to the world she might be small and rotund but I found her beautiful, her large round breasts rolling to either side, her soft tummy heaving up and down, her meaty thighs supported by her broad buttocks... I desired her, in every way, heedless of the opinion of men. I was on top of her, now, suckling at her fat breasts, licking the nipples, rubbing my own small breasts on her big ones to roll them about. Then I was kissing her fat belly, all the way kneading her large buttocks. Her sex opened up to me and I desired nothing so much as to sup of it as she had sipped at mine, and so I spread her legs apart and pressed my tongue to her moist mons veneris. She shuddered as I did so and I lapped harder, for several minutes, savoring the strong taste of her womanhood, until I felt her caught in the rapture of the tingle, her large bottom bucking up and down on my lips.

We lay there, caressing one another, she feeling my long slender arms and legs and torso, I kneading her round buttocks, her lolling belly, her fat round breasts. Sleep came to us as we lay there-- heedless of the horror that would find us in the morning.


Suddenly we were awakened by shouts, and just as I began to become cognizant of them I was dragged by one foot from my cabin to cower, naked, in the passageway.

"So ye'd enjoy carnal pleasures with that one which ye deny to our Captain, would ye?" shouted a fat cow of a guard at me. "Ye'll soon learn the punishment for that!" she spat, as Amelia cried at them to show me mercy.

My clothes (and you, Dearest Diarie) were thrust into my hands, and I was marched unclothed to another hold, where I now await whatever demoniacal punishments these Hell-Wenches can conjure up to inflict upon my miserable person, at Captain Miranda's diabolic pleasure. Woe, woe is me!

* * *

June 20, 17--

My dear Diarie,

After several hours awaiting my punishment in torment, mingled only momentarily now and again with memories of the pleasures I had enjoyed with my dear Amelia, (during which I learned a very interesting capability for inflicting the Tingle upon myself), the latch was opened and I was dragged out and above decks, still in the natural state as before. I only prayed that you, dear Diarie, would remain hidden in the place where I had vouchsafed you.

A sort of Court was assembled on the quarter-deck, with Captain Miranda seated, bare-breasted as before, upon a tall chair and several other half-nude pirate wenches assembled as a guard before her. "Bring the accused before me!" Miranda shouted, and I was pushed roughly into her presence, my exquisite beauty obviously taking her aback a moment as she inspected my delicate features in their state of complete undress. I tried to stand in a way which showed them off to their best advantage, hoping that this would lessen my punishment out of a desire not to harm anything so splendid as myself (and I say this in truthful modesty, for I am most beauteous).

"Esme Winterblossom," she intoned, as her Nubian servant brushed her long blonde curls behind her, "you stand accused of the crime of conjugal relations commenced without first offering yourself to your captain. Have you anything to say for yourself?"

"I know of no civilized place on earth where such is a crime," I said. "Indeed, I can only wonder what must be the history of yourself and your crew, that natural modesty should come to be conceived of as a crime." For, you see, I had conceived a desperate plan that if I encouraged Miranda to speak about how she had come to be so debauched and cruel, she might in turn take pity on one so much younger and more innocent than herself.

"You wonder what my history is?" she said, clearly surprised by my impudence. "You wonder what made all of us what we are today? Are you so innocent of the world, my naked Eve, that you really cannot conceive of the one, the only, the obvious answer? The thing that made us the fearsome and heartless pirates we are today--" and now she stood up, her vast breasts jiggling in fury, her copious belly spilling out as her trunk-like legs stood astride the deck-- "is-- MEN!" And her fury was truly a fearsome thing to behold, even as it came from one half undressed and unruly in her aspect.

"Once I was as you are, my pretty," she continued. "Thin, most fair, engaged to a captain of the Hussars. Like most men he had an unbridled appetite which I knew he often satisfied by whoring in town. But even I, his betrothed, often came under pressure from him to satisfy his unquenchable lusts. It was no longer enough for him to open my bodice and toy with my breasts or to have his mouth pressed upon mine; he wished me to pull at his purple-veined monster until it would belch forth his seed.

"Then that was no longer enough and he importuned me to put it in my mouth--" and there were groans of disgust from the crew at this. "And so, after much urging, in my love I lowered myself once to lick at his rigid brute as if it were a sweetmeat, and to allow him to fill my innocent mouth with his foul spew. Of course, with men, what was done once out of love soon turned to obligation; we could scarcely meet before he would have maneuvered me to some place where, in secret, I could kneel before him and slake his lusts."

Her Nubian servant swatted away some flies. "Still, he desired of me the one thing I dared not give him-- my maidenhead. I was forced to ever more desperate measures to keep him from demanding it in a way that I could not resist. My breasts had grown larger, perhaps because of the French food we enjoyed at balls and receptions in the social season, and this seemed to please him for a time, as I would take his manhood and rub it between my swelling breasts until, again, his slime would cover my neck and face and he would button his trousers, deeply satisfied with the performance of male lust he had given me."

Behind Miranda one of the pairs of pirate wenches began openly to kiss, and I must confess the sight did raise some slight arousal in my own sex. "Finally, weary of my constant refusal to let him have the one thing I believed I dare not, he told me of an alternative which he had learned of from a whore in the finest brothel in Ostend-- oh, yes, he loved making me listen to his constant and joyless transactions with the women of such places. He revealed to me that it was possible for a man to place his Cock inside a woman's Buttocks as well as in her cunny. I feared the pain that would follow, and I was right to do so, but out of love, I allowed him to take me that way. We went to an abandoned mill, and he raised my skirts, baring my bottom and forcing me to bend over as if I were a workhorse.

"He took some grease and pushed it roughly into the hole," she said, and I shuddered at the nightmarish act she described, which seemed a thing more coarse and brutish than any gentleman would ever indulge in. "Then pressing his cockhead against my bowels, he pushed it into me while gripping my buttocks like a steed. The pain was enormous, but I sacrificed my dignity in hopes that here, at last, would he find satisfaction."

She reached over to me, pushing my face up to hers. Her huge hanging mams dangled against me, and in the tropical sun I felt the heat radiating from her gigantic half-nude form. "Did we thus seal our love in this extraordinary fashion for all faithfulness unto death? On the contrary, at the end of it, as I lay there hurt and bleeding, he informed me that it was obvious, from the fact of having been shown it, that my bottom had grown much rounder since we had first begun our engagement; and that he no longer found my size pleasing to him, and I should go on a strict dietary regimen at once."

Her massive belly and breasts seemed to shake with the indignation of her humiliation. "Soon enough he broke off our engagement, and was posted to India. And now an embarassment to my family-- for I was once of what is called," and now she spoke with bitter mockery, "good family, I was quickly engaged to a dull-witted parson who was locating to the Barbados, and I was packed off to get me out of the way before my failure reflected poorly on my sisters' chances in being sold off like oxen to the bidder of best family and standing."

She walked around me, touching the end of a whip to my buttocks, and frankly admiring my nakedness, which made me aware what I had forgotten for a moment, that I alone was bare top and bottom on this ship. Then she continued her tale.

"Here the worse effect of my long infatuation with him was found," she began again, "for when I began to offer my new husband-to-be the same favors which my Hussar had demanded of me, he recoiled in horror and called me a brazen strumpet unworthy to be his wife. He too made most ungentlemanly remarks about my size, which I must admit had continued to increase in the unhappy state in which I found myself.

"My husband-to-be, unwilling to share a cabin with a female he considered unworthy," and here again she spat, "found alternate lodging in the ordinary seaman's quarters. To spite him I took up with one of the officers, and found him more congenial to the friendship of a buxom woman willing to satisfy his lusts with little complaint or thought of herself. This man at least had some sense of how to please a woman in return, and he was the first to show me how I might experience the supreme moment of pleasure for myself, as men do." At that she pressed the end of the whip against my pubis, and I felt a momentary spasm of the Tingle. Then she took it away and returned to her seat, setting her great bulk back in it and spreading her fat thighs in their breeches wide.

"It was also he who, in a sort of harsh kindness, snuck me below decks one night to witness what my would-be betrothed had become. Dressed in some of my own undergarments which I had thought lost in the washings, he was himself the recipient of Sodomy from one seaman while sucking at the pole of another. And watching the ludicrous exertions and grimaces to which he put himself in the act of being Sodomized at both ends, I could not but reflect bitterly on how ill-used I had been in the same acts.

"It was whilst on that ship, twenty days out of Gibraltar, that we were attacked by Berber pirates, and all the men put to the sword, including that fool my husband-to-be and, alas, the one man I have ever known whose lustfulness was tempered by some kindness and consideration for my person. For the women, such as myself, a different fate than Death awaited, and in the next year each of us was schooled in every debauchery by that crew, including, to my everlasting happiness, the natural and proper delights of Sapphism." At this a couple of cheers and "huzzahs!" came from the crew behind her-- but a wave of her hand stopped them.

"For all their cruelty, however, I learned one important thing from the Arab, that it is not the natural way of men to admire only the thin form such as yourself, my beauty." And now she ran her hand up the line of my stomach, and to my breast, which she cupped with her hand. "The Berbers admire the fat wench as much as the thin, and fed all of us captives so handsomely that we soon blossomed into the mighty BBWs that ye see before ye today."

Now she ran her hand up my backside, holding my small buttock in one hand as the other continued tracing its way across my stomach, grazing lightly against the hair that was all that concealed my sex. As she did so I felt, despite my terror, my sex begin to moisten again with desire. Though Miranda was most monstrously fat, there was something powerful about her that made her great bulk and overripe womanly attributes attractive to me. And I knew then that I had been foolish to keep myself from her when, by satisfying her as I had satisfied and been pleasured by Amelia, I might have substantially improved my position on this wretched ship and spared myself much sorrow. What, after all, is lapping at a woman's velvety puss compared to hard labor at scrubbing decks, cleaning privies, or killing vermin? I began to understand the calculation that she must have herself made while held captive by the Berbers.

"Eventually we made our escape, all of us women, on a ship which had been captured by our masters and left all but unguarded. I say all but unguarded, but it took cold-blooded murder to effect that escape, and there are few things which mark a woman so much as putting to the sword men with whom one has shared one's bed. Yet I did it gladly, and would do it a thousand times again, to escape the rule of men and be mistress of my own fate on the high seas.

"That ship, my pretty little popinjay, was this one, and for these seven years we have sailed it, women alone, spreading terror of our sex on the high seas, reclaiming treasure stolen from women by all the means that men have at their disposal-- pimping, inheritance, marriage-- and allowing ourselves to take the shapes that please us, and not just what pleases those vain, silly roosters known as men of society and standing."

I was just about to try to show some aspect of my feeling for her when she suddenly stopped her remembrances and turned brusque toward me. "On this ship, therefore, there is only one law-- what I say it is! And of breaking that law, you are found guilty, Miss Esme Winterblossom, and I sentence you to twenty lashes, which punishment to be executed tomorrow morning at eight bells. Take 'er away!" she shouted, and, oh wretched fate, before I could show her my admiration and willingness, I was hauled away again, nude and most disheartened, Dear Diarie, to suffer the punishments of this hellbound ship.

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED...



The Sapphic Pirate Miranda Pt. 03



Part the Third: In Which the Maiden Esme Winterblossom, Taken Captive By The Sapphic Pirate Miranda And Her Crew of BBWs (Brazen Buccaneer Wenches), (And Having Learnt The History of Captain Miranda's Betrayal in Love By a Man Who Found Her Growing Fat, And Her Own Capture At Sea By Berber Pirates, Which Led Miranda To Embark Upon Her Infamous Career As a Vengeful Lesbian Of The High Seas), Now Receives The Punishment Earlier Decreed For Her Failure To Offer Her Slender Young Body to Captain Miranda

* * *

June 21, 17--

The next morning I was roused from the cabin in which I was confined, fed an ill-tasting concoction, and dragged upstairs, this time however being allowed to dress before my punishment. I did not know whether to take that as a promising, or an ominous, Portent.

A drummer kept a slow beat while I was led to the mast and my hands tied above me. Captain Miranda was silent while sentence was read by Kate, the First Mate: "Twenty lashes." A short, gap-toothed hag with breasts dangling almost to her knees stood before me, eagerly fingering the cat'o'nine-tails; by the looks of her squat form her strength with it was equal to that of any bosun in the Navy.

A blindfold was tied around my eyes, and then I felt hands take my clothes and pull them down over my waist and down to my feet. Now I stood, blindfolded and naked, before the entire crew. "Ready?" I heard Kate call, and there was shuffling behind me. I tensed myself for the pain to come. "Lash!" she cried.

I felt something touch me and prepared for the sting of the whip, but in a fraction of a second I realized it was something else entirely-- a tongue, which went up my back, all the way to my neck. I wriggled as it tickled me, and then it went away.

"Lash!" the cry came again. And another tongue touched my buttock, and then traveled up the crack of my bottom, ending at the base of my spine.

"Lash!" And a third tongue traveled up my stomach. I turned to allow it fuller access and it went up my stomach and then to my breast, stopping to suck at my nipple before it was suddenly ripped away.

I stepped away from the mast and moved my legs apart to signal my acceptance. "Lash!" and the next tongue licked up my thigh and then kissed the petals of my sex, which opened to greet the strange lips.

Tongue after tongue tasted of me and still I could touch no one, only wriggle in delight at the pleasure being given me. One tongue licked at my backside and I spread wide to encourage it to explore deeper; one tongue licked at my sopping puss, but was taken away too soon; others suckled at my teats, licked my belly, nuzzled my neck and breathed hotly into my ear. But soon enough the twenty lashings were past and I was left standing there, unsatisfied and unable to pleasure myself. This then was my true torment-- to have felt the sting of pleasure, without its completion.

Dearest Diarie, I know that you must be astonished, when I tell you these things, at the change which had been effected in my attitudes by a week aboard this pirate Vessel. First that a young lady of my natural modesty should think nothing of walking around a ship half-undressed, her breasts exposed to all and sundry. This, of course, was made tolerable by the fact that it was a ship on which no Man was to be found, and thus little different than undressing before one's lady's maids or sisters.

Second was that I was so accepting of this business of being paraded around entirely naked, and tied to the mast to be whipped. Here I can only say that when one is faced with ruthless Power, as I was here, one must stiffen one's resolve and choose not to be overcome by the natural tendency of the fairer sex, at least the well-bred type, to collapse in helplessness at such indignities. I felt it was my duty, to England and to the Winterblossoms, to bear up bravely.

Third-- well, dear Diarie, I daresay you may have been shocked at some of the Sapphic activities which I have confessed to indulging in, in these pages. But in fact, whilst jailed in the altogether, I had had a great deal of time to think about my life and education and how I had come to this place.

Though some would look at my fair alabaster skin (now browning, alas, in this Tropical sun), and my great beauty, and consider me blessed, yet it must be reckoned that I have known great hardship as well. Father's profligacy at the Whist table, and his early Death from consumption (by which I do not mean the Disease of that name, but that he was consumed by a ravenous Hippopotamus at an exhibition of the Royal Zoological Society, after drinking too much ale and tumbling into its pit), thrust my Mother into a position which I despised bitterly, that of serving as mistress to Lord B.

As a young girl, I was often harsh and insulting to that kind and gentle man, and I see now that he loved Mother dearly, and greatly admired the way she served as his hostess and consort throughout the social season, though he could not wed her. To me, however, the shame of Mother's taking his bed, and everyone knowing it, to support us was all that mattered. I confess I thought her no better than a Wh-r-.

I was enlightened a bit when, upon the Lord's death, Mother married the mill-owner Skizzleby, a low and mulish man, but one whose wealth outweighed his complete lack of other charms. Now Mother had respectability-- but not love, nor was there any love for me. In short order I was shipped off to the Indies, in the company of Aunt Agatha and Rev'd Pinchwork, God rest their souls.

So where was I? Ah yes, Dear Diarie, standing naked with my arms tied above me on the main deck, blindfolded, and sorely missing the nameless tongues which had, moments before, been licking their way toward my breasts, cunny, and bottom, I knew that my one advantage stood in not merely meekly acquiescing in the demands placed upon my person by Captain Miranda, like any milkmaid being pawed by the lord of the manor and desperate not to be discharged. I must take control of the situation for myself, much as Miranda herself had done when she had seized this ship seven years earlier-- or as my own Mother had done in very different, --yet not so different at that, circumstances in London many years ago.

I twisted my arms around under the ropes until I was facing outward, and then carefully walked myself around the mast halfway until I was, I believed, standing before Captain Miranda. Then I set my legs akimbo, and shouted loudly:

"Here I stand, revealed and with a most wet and inflamed sex. Is there no one on this ship who will give me the relief I need by licking it for me?"

I could hear the shock and titters from the crew. There would probably have been no shortage of volunteers momentarily, had not Miranda called out "Let her down." My blindfold was removed and then my hands untied from the mast. Miranda sat, perhaps ten yards away. Again, surprise was my best asset. I began to run, naked as a newborn bairn, straight toward her, and leaped over the rail to land myself in her lap, a place where I seemed but a tiny boat deep in the folds and swells of a vast sea.

Grabbing her head by each side, I put my lips directly on hers, and began to kiss her most vigorously, thrusting my tongue into her mouth and rubbing my opened sex against her thigh. Then suddenly she shrieked and batted me off of her with one of her fists, knocking me to the deck. She clutched her lip, from which blood poured freely where I had bitten it.

"You little bitch!" she said, standing over me, huge and powerful. "I be bleeding!"

"You spilled the blood of those you shared your bed with," I said, wiping a drip from my lip and spreading it on one of my nipples, in imitation of some savage rite. "I wanted to do the same." And I bent down and licked the blood from my nipple, as best I could with my small breasts.

I got up and jumped at her again, throwing my legs around each side of her commodious belly and my arms around her neck, and then licking the rivulet of blood up off her chin. "Take me to your bed now, or by God you'll never have so fine a chance again," I said.

"Conceited little termagant ye are," she said, and walked with me stretched around her, bouncing on her vast belly and disappearing between her huge breasts, toward her quarters. "Miss Kate, the ship be yourn," she said, and we disappeared behind her closed door.

* * *

June 22, 17--

Oh Diarie,

I should have carried the events of two days previous to their conclusion, but after recounting the tale of my lashing up to the point where I ended, dear Diarie, I had an urgent need even greater than my duty to you, and so I shall finish the account today.

With me, in the altogether, straddling her midsection, my wet puss sliding against her fat belly and her huge teats flopping up and down on my legs, she carried me into her cabin and threw me roughly onto the bed. I leaped back up and grabbed her ample midsection, pressing my lips to hers and vigorously thrusting my tongue into her mouth. I could tell she was still apprehensive lest I bite her again, but soon melted under the ardor of my passion.

From there I moved down to one of her massive breasts, suckling at it whilst unlacing her breeches. Once I had them down around her legs, I turned her toward the bed and induced her to lay back upon it. Once she did, her huge body spreading across the mattress, breasts rolling off to each side like the eggs sliding off a mound of potatoes, massive brown belly with its criss and cross of scars, thick masts of legs ending in a rounded mons, I leaped on top of her, my thin pink form almost lost in the undulating vastness of her girth. I licked her thick, thumb-like nipples again, then slid down the slope of her belly to arrive between her legs, spreading them apart so that the bright pink slit between the rolls of her thighs was visible and moist.

Squeezing my head as best I could in between them, feeling in danger of being swallowed up entirely by an avalanche of flesh, I licked at her ripe, dripping cunt, rubbing my own pussy at the same time until I felt my Tingle overtake me. As I reached the crest of the sensation, I reached up to one of her huge flopping teats and grabbed hold of the ivory pin stuck through the nipple, and twisted it in throes of my passion until she shrieked and bucked me off of her and onto the floor. I ended my Tingle sitting in front of her in a jumble of arms and legs, rubbing my splayed cunny.

Now she grabbed me by my hair and threw me again onto the bed, face down. "You fucking little minx," she said. "I'll show you what fucking is on this here ship," and she threw her whole immense bulk onto me, grinding me into the bed as I felt two of her fingers slide up my cunny and her immense breasts and belly surround my slender self.

If she thought I was to be cowed at last, however, she was much mistaken. "Oh, do not put your manly instrument into my Bottom," I cried, in a falsetto voice. "I am but a most innocent girl and you are a bold Hussar--"

"Little bitch from Hell!" she cried, leaping up.

"No more than this ship and its band of piratical pussy-sniffers," said I, turning to face her. "But if you can't show my Bottom how a Hussar makes love--"

"There was no love in it, and there will be none in it for you," she said, and she used her fat foot to push my face down into the bed and hold me there. I saw her grab a long, twisted horn, perhaps that of a gazelle or a narwhal, and coat its tip quickly with oil from a bottle. Then, holding me down roughly with one arm, she pushed my legs apart and pushed the end of the horn against my Bottom, until it began to screw itself into my bowels.

The sensation was both painful and exquisite, even more overwhelming than the Tingle itself, though not so complete in its delight; as each ridge of the horn opened my Bottom wider, so I pushed against it, drawing it in further and taking it as a wife engulfs her husband's manliness. I could not bear it without release and so I rubbed my own cunny again as she forced the horn deeper and deeper into my bowels and my buttocks rode up and down like a groomsman on a pony. Within a moment the Tingle had come to me again, and I cried out aloud in the magnificent agony of my Bottom being so used in this fashion.

When I was finished she pulled it roughly from me and I rolled over on my back and lay there, my legs spread and my pussy open wide to the world, as my giantess love, Miranda, spread over me with her rolling fat. "Is there nothing I can do that will shame you?" she asked.

"Nothing, my darling, my captain, my mistress," I said.

"So ye be one with us, we Brazen Buccaneer Wenches? Ye renounce the world of Men and all their false promises?" she asked, as she rubbed her hand over my petite bosom.

"I do not say that I may not have reason to take a man to my bed, if it is to my advantage," said I. "But I am a Sapphic pirate born, I know that now. And it is my wish only to lap at pirate pussy and suckle at pirate teat and fu-, er, fuck Hell-wenches like myself."

"Hmm," said Miranda, looking thoughtfully. "And Amelia? Do you not care for her alone?"

"Amelia is a dear," said I. "I assume you bade her win me over to the delights of Sapphic love?"

"Indeed," said Miranda, her huge leg rubbing up against mine, and me squirming my hip against her sopping cunny, which made her momentarily roll her eyes up in her head. "She seemed the one with the shapeliness and youth most likely to appeal to a lady such as yourself."

"A perfectly wise choice," said I. "I do not blame her for the small deception. I should like Amelia to remain my cabin mate, though not, of course, my only bed partner."

"As you wish," Miranda nodded, and she thought for a moment as I used my foot to rub against her wet, brackish sex. "It seems to me that you present us with an opportunity we have never had before. A beautiful young woman of position and lack of scruples in the bed chamber-- you could be most advantageous to a pirate crew. Of course, it might mean taking a great many to your bed, both men and women. But the rewards in both wealth and amusement might be vast. Are ye willing, my fine vixen?"

"I am," I said, already feeling a hint of the Tingle at the many adventures this promised me. I eyed the horn, still sitting on its shelf, glistening with oil. "How shall we seal our compact?

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED...



The Sapphic Pirate Miranda Pt. 04



Part the Fourth: In Which The Lady Esme Winterblossom, And Her Constant Companion Amelia, Make Their Escape From The Debaucheries Aboard The Vessel Of The Sapphic Pirate Miranda, And Seek Refuge Among The Sailors and Soldiers On The Island Of St. Roger, In The Process Inventing A New Dance Sensation

* * *

July 9, 17--

Diarie My Dear,

So much has transpired since last I had the opportunity to commit my thoughts to your Pages, dear Diarie, that I scarce know where to begin. Rather than relay each event in the order of its occurrence, I shall begin with the Peril in which we now find ourselves, and explain how we have come to this point.

Late last night Amelia and I escaped aboard a small rowboat and made our way toward the lights of the small fortification on the island of St. Roger. Only constant activity prevented us from complaining of the cold and damp; but it was necessary to make our escape by night.

At last we reached the rock-strewn shore and hid our boat in some bushes so that our place of landing would not be detectable in the morn. We made our way quickly to the small village near the encampment and found that, as is the way of military men, drunken revelry was taking place at a rough-framed publican's house called The Salty Cock. As we had neither money, nor a place to stay, nor food to eat, we shuddered to one another but accepted that this Cock offered our best hope for success, if we could but determine how to grab hold of it.

Inside, a few dozen soldiers and sailors were watching a toothless slattern cavort on stage, singing a desultory ballad while occasionally offering a flash of her skirts revealing her veinous calves. (I daresay the odor from her waved skirts would have extinguished any lustful thoughts prompted by the display.) Her animations seemed to be drawing little interest, even from so female-hungry a crowd as these soldiers.

"Hello hello hello," said a fellow at the bar, with pomaded hair and eyeglasses tinted a dark shade, his shirt open to his chest. "What can The Salty Cock do for a couple of fine, fine ladies like yourselves?"

"This is a place of entertainment?" Amelia asked, tentatively.

"Hey, what's it look like?" said the barman.

"It looks like the wake for a scrofulous wetnurse," said I. "Is that the best dancing to be had on this island?"

He gave me a look of amusement. "I suppose you pretty ladies think you could do better?"

I rolled my eyes to indicate that the question was beneath my answering. "What's to be had when we do?" I asked, as the harridan on stage stopped her rickety maneuverings, and glared at us hatefully.

"Girls, it is your lucky night," said the barman. "We're having a dancing contest, and the one who most enjoys the audience's favor wins a guinea, plus whatever other tips are to be had by performing dances at table, upon laps, and wherever else a customer might request that you, uh, perform."

"Then sweep that palsied hag off the stage and get your audience ready for something worth seeing," said I, and he shrugged and exited his bar for the stage.

"Gentlemen, put your hands together for lovely Consuela," he bellowed to the crowd, as the unfortunate wretch picked up her few pathetic winnings and scampered off the stage. "And remember, Consuela will be coming by offering a table or a lap dance, you're sure to want to take advantage of that." I suspected a certain sarcastic tone to this last.

There was mild applause, and then a murmur of excitement as they saw that we were not the lice-ridden whores they were used to seeing on this stage. Though we were hardly at our most presentable, having just labored two hours at rowing, nevertheless our youthful beauty, our simple white attire, unbuttoned suggestively, and our flowing locks were pleasing in their aspect.

I looked at the superannuated doctor of Musick squeezing tunes out of a grimy accordion in the pit. "Do you know any quadrilles by Handel or Couperin?" I asked.

"Oi know Lady of Spain," he wheezed.

"It'll have to do," I said, and he started playing something whose name and tune can have been but a mystery to anyone but himself. Amelia and I prepared to mount the stage when I found a constable pressing his stick against my chest.

"What goes on in the gallery is not for me to worry about," he said. "But on stage, you're governed by the laws of the Lord Chamberlain, same as Shakespeare 'imself. And if there's any open display of your womanly parts--" and here he tapped at my breasts, and then at my sex, to make it clear what he meant-- "I'll arrest you, sure as Guy Fawkes." And he sat down at, I noticed, the best seat in the house.

Well, to tell the truth, that did rather put a Crimp in our plan to win over the audience by simply baring ourselves and proceeding directly to a lewd display of Sapphic ardor. We would have to come up with something more artful.

"Gentlemen, get ready for a special attraction, making their debut on this stage, show your appreciation for Esme and Amelia!" bellowed the barman, by way of urging us up unto the stage.

As the aged musician played, we began to dance a quadrille. With each pass we made sure to stroke one another's breasts suggestively for the audience-- Amelia tweaking my small buds, I hoisting her fat tit and then dropping it, letting it jiggle. Then we turned and rubbed our bottoms against one another, my narrow hips nearly separating her ample cheeks. We turned around and came face to face, planting a kiss on each other while rubbing my small flat belly against her rounded one.

Unfortunately, just as we were beginning to simulate the noises of passion, the slattern who had held the stage before us was given a copper by one of the sailors, and she happily ripped open her bodice in the crowd, allowing her dangling mams to flop out like mongeese being let loose after prey. Despite the vulgarity of this display, a good part of the audience turned their eyes toward it-- and away from us.

"What are we going to do if we can't undress?" Amelia whispered to me as I slid a leg in between her skirts and she began to ride her big bottom and sex on my willowy thigh.

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking," I muttered back at her, then turned to the audience. "Well, gentlemen," I said, "d'ye like to go gallopin' on a mount thin and rangy," and I stretched an arm out and tried to raise my breast to the very edge of my open shirt without breaching the censor's rule, "or d'ye like to ride o'er round and soft hills," and now I grabbed Amelia's buttocks and pressed her hard against my leg, and she let her head fall back in simulation of the Tingle, and moaned with each gallop she took upon my "steed."

"Oi like 'em face down and with old Brown-Eye lookin' back at me," responded one of the sailors, and there was coarse laughter at this vulgarity.

"Then return to your ship, Jack Tar," I said. "Your cabin boy is lonely." At this there was more laughter, and though the object of my Jape glowered, I saw that the others seemed ready to pay us more credit than they had shown the previous dancers on this stage.

I motioned for one of the soldiers up front to pass me a wooden chair, which I set up on the stage and motioned to Amelia for her to sit upon it. I straddled her and we kissed, drawing it out so our tongues were visible as our mouths separated. I climbed off of her and now buried my face between her breasts, mashing the giant globes and doing my best to draw the fabric tight so as to reveal their shape. At the same time I threw her skirt up as high upon her thigh as I could, showing as much of her leg and the beginning of her buttock as I dared.

Unfortunately the harridan in the gallery noticed that attention had returned to us, for she whispered something to one of the sailors, he nodded wide-eyed and enthusiastically, and she pulled up her skirts. Then, grabbing a wine bottle she seemed (or so it appeared from our vantage point) to thrust it into her poxy swamp of a cunny, and to make moaning sounds like a wounded vole as she swooned up and down, befouling the bottle with her excrescences.

I looked at the constable to see if he intended to do anything about this lewd and medically dangerous display, but he simply shrugged and tapped the edge of the stage, to remind us (as if we needed any such reminder) that similar acts were forbidden to us. Somehow, despite the censor's Ban, we needed a way to bare ourselves, and thus draw the attention back in our direction through the frank display of our far more attractive bodies.

Suddenly the very solution occurred to me. At the back of the stage sat a bucket for extinguishing fires. I grabbed it and to Amelia's shock and dismay, I poured the cold and far from clean water over both our clothes. In an instant our full forms were revealed as our thin cotton garments clung tightly to our breasts and thighs. My slender body, small breasts, and erect nipples were clearly discernable; so too were Amelia's large, dangling breasts, her fat, drooping nipples, and her broad and rounded buttocks. I forced my mouth upon hers and we rubbed our plainly visible bodies against one another to the whoops and cheers of the crowd. "Gentlemen, do we have a winner?" the barman asked, and the crowd offered near-unanimous assent.

As we stepped off the stage the barman said, "I have a feeling the wet-bodice contest may become a tradition in these islands. By the way, do you see that handsome lieutenant at the back of the room?"

"Aye," I said.

"He wishes you to dance for him privately," the barman said.

"Is he the highest-ranking officer in the room?" I asked.

"He is," the barman said.

"Tell him we'd be happy to," I said, grabbing our winnings and wringing my skirts out.

We moved over to his table and--

Oh! I hear the key in the door of our cell, dearest Diarie-- more anon

* * *

July 11, 17--

Dearest Friend Diarie,

That last was indeed, as you may have gathered, written whilst we were kept in a jail-- or so they called it, though it was scarcely more than a filthy hole with an iron door. At first Amelia and I thought all our troubles were over when the lieutenant beckoned us to his table. We made ourselves friendly with him, and he seemed to respond well to our flirtations.

But once I leaned over to his ear and told him the real message I had hoped to communicate, that we were escapees from the ship of the Sapphic Pirate Miranda, with knowledge of Miranda's planned raid upon the island, he turned white as a sheet and with the aid of a couple of his fellows, hustled us out of the tavern and to the fort.

We were made to wait an eternity while arguing went on over our presence and purpose. I must admit that I grew increasingly apprehensive as I caught snippets of their heated conversation-- it seemed that there was an idea that we might be spies of Miranda's, sent on a reconnaisance mission. It was apparently taken as evidence for this view the fact that we had so readily shewn ourselves lewdly at the tavern-- "Only a member of Miranda's depraved crew would have taken to such behavior at the first instant," I heard someone say. Well! Put yourself in our position, landing on an island full of soldiers late at night, and finding a tavern where the entertainment was of that nature-- what's a girl to do?

In any case, the argument eventually ended and over our tremendous protests we were forced into the brig and the door closed upon us. Amelia and I could do little but hold one another and wait for sleep to take our cares away until the morning.

In the morning we were given some foul swill to eat, which we ate nevertheless, but our attempts to demand release or at least a chance to plead our case were ignored, and we were left there for some further hours.

At last our door opened and we were ushered out of the cell and to a small chamber. A finely-dressed lady, of perhaps 50 years, on the plump side, but well kept and most kindly of face, sat at a small table. We were directed to the other side and ordered to sit down. The guard stood at attention along the wall but the lady said, "Sergeant, I'm sure these girls pose no threat. Please step outside."

"Orders, ma'am, were to watch 'em closely," the sergeant said.

"The other side of that door will serve just as well," she said firmly, and the sergeant, bested, stepped out and pulled the door to.

She looked at us kindly and took the hand of each of us. "My dear children," she said. "How you must have suffered!"

"Indeed, m'lady, we have been most cruelly treated when all we wished to do was warn the soldiers of a peril facing this island," I said.

"You're not a servant girl, are you," she said to me.

"No, my lady," I said. "I am Miss Esme Winterblossom, and I was traveling to the West Indies to live with my mother's brother when our ship was most savagely attacked by the pirate Miranda and I was taken prisoner."

"How very dreadful," the lady said. "And you..."

"This is Amelia; she is a servant girl taken captive as well. I don't know what I would have done without her friendship, her very close friendship," I said. Amelia merely nodded, being too timid to speak to her ladyship after our ordeal, I suppose.

"I see," said the lady. "I'm sure on a ship like Miranda's, where every form of debauchery is routinely practiced, it was a great consolation to have a... friend."

"Yes, my lady," I said. "There was little consolation for us on that ship, except what tender kindnesses we could furnish each other. At night."

"Indeed," the lady said, and as she suddenly became a bit flushed, she took a fan from her sleeve and began to cool herself. "I feel certain that you are of good hearts," she said, standing. "To atone for your early treatment here, I should like to invite you both to dine at the governor's house. Dear me, I forgot to introduce myself! I am Lady Persephone Primhorne, and my husband, Sir Joseph Primhorne, is the governor of this island. I will see that fresh clothes and a wash basin are brought to you, and we look forward to your company tonight," and she seemed to breathe a little more quickly all of a moment, "when I do hope you will tell us more about what you have endured as the prisoners of the fabled Miranda."

* * *

July 12, 17--

Dear Diarie,

That evening we were taken in our new clothes to the governor and his lady's home. To be honest, an error was made in choosing our new clothes, as in both cases the garments were rather small, forcing us to protrude our busts from the top, and showing off a goodly amount of our legs.

But the kindness shewn throughout the meal by the lord and lady impressed us greatly, the meal consisting of most expertly prepared food as well as a great deal of champagne and port, and Sir Joseph listened most intently as I explained that Miranda's plan was to raid the rum warehouses on the north side of the island, and that his best countermeasure would be to move as many ships and troops as possible to that side, where he might repel the attack and perhaps even capture Miranda herself.

After dinner he excused himself to communicate this knowledge to his staff, and we ladies retired to the sitting room. Lady Persephone took a place between Amelia and myself on the divan. "So it must have been very difficult for a young lady such as yourself, Esme-- if the rumors we hear about the goings-on aboard Miranda's ship are true," said Lady Persephone.

"I am certain that the rumors are but a small part of the dreadful truth," I said.

"It must have been quite shocking, being the object of desire of so many rapacious pirates," she continued, and she put her hand on my knee in sympathy.

"It is a sad fact," said I, "that one is forced to choose between one's life, and giving into the debauched desires of those stronger than you. And... well, we are alive."

"Oh you poor dears," said Lady Persephone, and she kissed me on the cheek, and then, not wishing Amelia to feel left out, did the same to her. "I know that you cannot be blamed for your deeds in such circumstances. But how fortunate that you have each other."

"Yes, to find consolation in each others' arms when nowhere else is kindness to be found," said I.

Lady Persephone appeared thoughtful for a moment, and then said, almost tentatively, "I have often been curious, as to the manner in which Sapphic love is performed. One reads so much about it in the Ancients, yet the details are always omitted," she said, blushing again.

There was silence for a moment. "Perhaps we could give a demonstration, my lady," Amelia volunteered, and Lady Persephone clapped her hands together enthusiastically. "That would be most appreciated," she said. "I am certain, that as long as it is only a demonstration for knowledge's sake, it cannot be wrong."

We exchanged places on the divan and Amelia and I began to kiss, a long slow kiss in which we took care to show our tongues plunging into the other's mouth. At the same time we rubbed each other's breasts, and I noticed that as I unbuttoned Amelia's, a hand behind my back also loosened my own gown.

I lowered my mouth to one of Amelia's teats and began to suck the fat thumb of a nipple, mashing the huge round globes around my face. At the same time Amelia's hand ran up my thigh and began to rub against my mound, and I moaned softly.

I soon had Amelia's top completely off, exposing her large, dangling breasts and her round pepperpot belly, and behind me Lady Persephone undid the last of my laces and let my bodice slide off, revealing my much smaller breasts. I grabbed one of her hands and placed it onto my breast, and I heard her moan as she kneaded it and Amelia moved her plump breast against her Ladyship's hand as well.

She seemed almost overwhelmed by the sensation and so we got up and moved to either side of her. Removing her powdered wig so that her own hair tumbled down, then stroking her round cheeks, we began to kiss her on the lips while feeling her large breasts inside her fine silk garments. Amelia lifted one of her breasts to her Ladyship's lips and she took the nipple into her mouth, sucking it whilst I undid her laces in back. In a moment we had opened her dress, allowing her heavy, hanging mams to spill out. I sucked at one and Amelia took the other as her ladyship's head rolled back, eyes shut, in the transports of delight.

I heard a noise behind us and glancing over at one of the portraits on the wall I saw that the eyes had a most unusually Realistic quality-- as if real eyes were behind them. I winked at the portrait and decided we ought to give it a real show. I stood Amelia up and we threw off the rest of our clothes, standing there in the altogether, me tall and lean, Amelia short and round. Then we pulled her ladyship up and removed her remaining garments as well, as we did so rubbing our hands over every stretch of her voluptuous body. I held her plump dangling breasts, licking at them, and rubbing her sagging belly, while Amelia ran her hands over her pear-shaped hips and bottom, sliding a hand between her thick thighs. She must have found moistness within, for her hand extended well inside her ladyship's nether regions, and her ladyship seemed to be quite overwhelmed by the sensation.

Clothes removed, we led her back to the divan and laid her on it halfway down, spreading her legs in front of the portrait. As my tongue soon discovered, her ladyship's pussy had grown quite moist and warm in the last few minutes, and I lapped at her velvety wetness eagerly, holding on to her ample bottom as it writhed with my ministrations. Above me her ladyship and Amelia kissed and licked at each other's large breasts.

"Oh! I must drink of your Sapphic nectar!" cried Lady Persephone to Amelia, and so we next rearranged ourselves so that Amelia was lying on the divan, whilst her ladyship, with her Fanny in the air, took her first lap of Amelia's puss. I could not tell if this was a novel experience for her or not, for she took to it quite eagerly, squeezing Amelia's plump breasts as she thrust her tongue and lips deep into her cunny.




The Sapphic Pirate Miranda Pt. 04



Presented with her ladyship's behind, I licked at it again, running my tongue along not only the sleek canal of her cunny, but to the wrinkled hole of her bottom. That produced a particular squeal, and she soon had Amelia's own large bottom up in the air and spread apart while her ladyship licked at her hole. As I continued pressing my tongue against that place, I slipped two fingers inside her ladyship's slippery pussy, then a third, and finally began forcing my entire hand inside, something which both the ample size of her pussy and that of my delicate hand made possible. As I fucked her from behind with my hand, her broad bottom riding my arm with the vigor of a racehorse, jiggling with each thrust, Amelia screamed with the Tingle, and it was not long before her ladyship, concentrating on her own pleasure, also felt that most delicious sensation, before collapsing in a heap, her lips pressed to Amelia's dripping mons veneris.

After a moment I whispered to Lady Persephone that I knew someone was watching us from the portrait; seeing that I was amused rather than feeling violated, we concocted a plan. We moved over to the sideboard which sat under the portrait, and placed Amelia directly in front of it, while her ladyship and I began kissing her neck and back. Surely it was quite a view for Sir Joseph on the other side, gazing directly into Amelia's capacious bosom. We worked our way down to Amelia's buttocks until we were out of view, and then the two of us crept away whilst Amelia still pretended to be receiving our ministrations.

We reached the panel which opened to the secret passageway, and Lady Persephone threw it open. There, startled, stood Sir Joseph, his breeches around his ankles and his willy in his hands. He turned as scarlet as a lobster as we laughed at having found him in the state of a randy stable boy, but his anger and embarassment were soon abated when two naked females took his hands and led him, shuffling, out of the secret passageway and into the sitting room.

In a moment we had him stripped and laying on the couch. Now, it must be said that I have not had the experience with men that I have gained in Sapphic love during these past few weeks, but even by the standards of the few village lads with whom I'd played games of Tickle-Me-Bum and Kiss-the-Salamander, the pudgy and somewhat grayed Sir Joseph possessed a cock that seemed... well... rather Phlegmatic, like its owner. Amelia clearly wanted nothing to do with it, and seemed a bit dismayed that I would even consider touching it. But her ladyship and I knelt before him, and she licked his cock as if it were a lolly, and I did the same, while Amelia contented herself with rubbing her round breasts against her ladyship's bottom, and petting her pussy.

It was not long at sucking his cock and letting our tongues play together before Sir Joseph erupted with his Seed, which her ladyship caught upon her tongue. She held out her tongue, coated with the white effluvium, and I stuck out my own, which her mouth grasped upon, sliding the ejaculate into my mouth as if it were an oyster. We each swallowed, and then turned back to kissing one another, as I rubbed her large drooping breasts and Sir Joseph, goggle-eyed, simply stared at us.

Lady Persephone pushed me back on the Chinese rug and spread my legs apart, licking at my sopping cunny. I motioned to Amelia and she came over to me, placing her large soft bum over my face. I licked at her most familiar and welcome pussy as Lady Persephone, clumsily but with increasing skill, licked at mine. As Amelia bounced on my face Sir Joseph attempted to grab hold of one of her large boobies but she pushed his hand away. Instead he caressed his wife's bottom while she supped at my wet pussy, watching intently through his pince-nez at the way in which her tongue separated my folds and dove inside.

Within a few moments, evidently to his own surprise, Sir Joseph found his mast a-rising again, and he thrust it into his wife's cunny from behind as she lapped at my puss, and the two of them fucked excitedly, turning beet-red and wheezing from the exertion, while I drank of Amelia's delicious cunny and caressed her vast round bottom on my face. It was only a minute or two more of this before I had my own Tingle, following which Sir Joseph let roar a loud "Huzzah!" and shot his seed within Lady Persephone. When all was done, the four of us sank exhaustedly back upon the divan, savoring the memories of our labors.

Before I went to bed I heard Sir Joseph give orders that the warehouses on the north of the island be heavily reinforced against Miranda's attack, and saw for myself that the three ships under his authority were preparing to set sail for that port, with all but a token force of the island's command aboard them. Sir Joseph's second in command questioned whether that small force would be sufficient to guard the encampment on this side in the event Miranda should strike here, and I heard him say something about gold and ammunition stores, but Sir Joseph assured him that the intelligence he had about Miranda's plans was unimpeachable; every available hand must be put to guarding the north of the island.

It was almost two in the morning when I snuck out and made my way to the bell tower. No one saw me as I climbed the tower with the lantern. Precisely at two I lit it, covered it, showed it again, covered it, and showed it a third time. Then I quickly clambered back down and returned to the bed, where Amelia's plump warm form, smelling of our amorous activities, lay curled so delightfully.

"I have signaled Miranda," I whispered to her as I nuzzled her neck and she rubbed her behind against me contentedly. "Tomorrow night, she will raid the south and seize all the gold and treasure while those fools guard a few barrels of rum on the north of the island. And then we shall be back among our sisters, our Sapphic pirate sisters, Amelia my love."

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED...



The Sapphic Pirate Miranda Pt. 05



Part the Fifth: In Which the Lady Esme Winterblossom, By This Time Most Firmly Resolved To a Life of Sapphic Piratehood and Utter Unladylike Dissolution Aboard the Vessel of Miranda, Makes a New Friend Among Miranda's Captives, Endures Battle at Sea and The Loss of One Most Dear To Her, and Receives a Surprising Honor From the Infamous Miranda Herself.

* * *

September 8, 17--

Dear Diarie,

My most sincere apologies for not writing to you these last weeks, but my adventures aboard the ship of Miranda and her crew of Brazen Buccaneer Wenches have taken a most extraordinary turn. It is only now, as we float here in the Sargasso Sea, knowing not what fate awaits us, that I can turn to your pages for Solace.

When last I wrote in you I was planning my escape, with dear, unfortunate Amelia, from the island of St. Roger, which we had infiltrated for the purposes of aiding our Captain in her raid upon its stores. We made our way the next day to the north of the island, and joined our Sapphic sisters that night in loading and making away with a vast quantity of gold, powder, hogs and ale.

We set the magazines a-blaze and then sailed away, thoughts of a delicious celebration in our minds. We had in fact taken two of the local servant-girls prisoner, in one case most willingly as it was clear she had little enough love for the life she was leaving behind; and I looked forward most eagerly to helping introduce the pair of them to the delights of Sapphic love.

In fact, with Miranda's approval ("Ay, I should have guessed ye'd be the first to want to wet her whistle"), once we were safely at sea (or so it seemed) I went down to the brig where they were imprisoned and had myself let into the one's cabin. Hippolyte was a lovely Mulatto girl of perhaps 19 years, shapely and pleasingly rounded in the Breasts and with, as they say, "some belongings in the Portmanteau" behind.

"What is to become of us?" she asked me frankly, and without fear.

I sat down on the beddings next to her and took her hands in mine. "Dear girl," I said, "I trust you know who we are."

"Wicked lady pirates who take to one another's beds rather than any man's," she said.

"Fair enough," said I. "Have you been to a man's bed before?" I asked, stroking her hair.

"Only my master's," she said, and I could see the hatred for what she'd been forced to do. Well, none would force her here. It didn't look likely to be necessary.

"Men are such brutes," I said, my hand resting lightly upon her thigh. "Would it not be better if the delicate sex were to have... well, another sex just as delicate as itself?"

"It would be better to be free of either if one did not wish it," she said, shrinking away from me.

"You are free," I said, moving away from her as well. "You may leave this ship at any place where we find land. But as I learned myself not three months ago when I was new to her, your food and lodging on this ship are not free. Each of us must work to keep her shipshape and provisioned. The question is," and now I moved in again, pressing my lips against the nape of her neck and gently kissing the back of her ear, "will that labor be scullery work, or will it be something more like pleasure than work at all?"

She turned toward me and then grabbed my head with her hands and pressed her lips to mine, furiously and passionately. I felt her large, dangling breast under her garments and her tongue thrust itself into my mouth. She pulled my shirt open, popping one or two of the buttons in her eagerness to get to my breasts, sucking one of my nipples into her mouth and then nuzzling my belly. She sank to her knees between my legs and began to unbelt my pants (for we had stolen a number of the garrison's uniforms and many of us had begun to affect masculine dress). Her eyes widened at the sight of my blonde muff, and hungrily she moved toward my pussy to lap at it--

Suddenly above us there was a great crash which shook the ship's old timbers as if she were tumbling down-stairs. There was screaming from above decks and I pushed Hippolyte away (most reluctantly on both our parts) from my dampened honey-slit, pulling my pantaloons quickly over my bottom. "Come with me to the deck," I said. "If we are sunk I do not wish you trapped in this vessel, whatever fate may await us."

She took my hand and we raced up the stairs, rising through smoke as we did so. The shouts and screams from the deck had a most baleful quality, and as I reached the deck I saw one reason why-- the main mast had been struck by a cannon ball and splintered, the mainsail rocking dangerously in place, likely to snap at any moment. Near it a couple of the pirates-- but no one dear to me-- lay dead, killed in an instant by the impact of the cannon.

I swung round to see what ship had inflicted this damage upon us and could make out, in the distance, a British vessel, likely one of the ones harbored at St. Roger when we made our escape. Then I saw the true cause of the lamentations issuing from members of the crew in a state of most untypical Pandemonium. For there, on the quarter deck, her face and exposed breasts and vast belly covered in crimson, lay our captain Miranda, gasping with what one had to take to be her last breaths in this world.

I let out a scream of distress and raced to her, pushing aside her Nubian wench and others to embrace my beloved captain in her final moments. "Kiss me, Esme," she croaked, and I pressed my lips to hers in fond memories of the long hours we had spent in her cabin, exploring every Sapphic delight imaginable (and she, having seen so much of the world, could imagine quite a lot).

"Oh captain, my captain," I sobbed. "What will become of us now?"

"Listen to me, you scurvy harlots," Miranda rasped with her shortened breath. "If ye are to escape these British bastards, ye will need a cool, calculating head like my own. I know she is young and there is much of seafaring which ye will have to teach her, but this one-- Esme-- has a heart as black as a Zulu, and she is to be your new captain."

There were gasps all around. Only Amelia beamed at me with pride, the simple little thing. "Captain, should it not be someone with more experience at sea--" began one of the lieutenants, Sally Nottlewick.

Miranda's fury was potent even as life escaped her large and bulbous frame. "Ye heard me! If there's a sharp head that will get ye out of this, it's her'n!"

At that moment another cannon shot went off from the ship off our port bow, and we all ducked and braced for the impact-- which, however, went over our heads, hitting nothing. I turned back to Miranda, leaning in close to her, and said, "You really wish me to be their Captain Esme?"

"No, you little strumpet," she said fondly. "I wish ye to be Captain Miranda, and so never to let those cock-stroking bastards know that they got me. Let the legend of Miranda and her Sapphic seafarers live forever!" she cried, and then a kind of racking overtook her, and in a moment, she was gone.

I stood up, facing a doubtful if not indeed hostile crew, and knew that if I were not to take a knife in the back in the next few minutes, I must impress upon them that Miranda had been right in her choice.

"It is true that I am not experienced in the ways of the sea. But if I were capable of each of your jobs, there would be no need for you," I said. "Let us not think of months and years ahead, but of hours. If I can lead us to safety beyond the reach of British justice, then I believe I shall have earned the trust our beloved Miranda placed in me most unexpectedly." Several glares at that, but no outright dissent brooked. "If I cannot, well, in the last moment of freedom before our capture, any one of ye may send me to Hell first by the weapon nearest, and I shall not blame you for it. Now let us to work!" I cried, and almost against their wills, they began to move toward their stations to fight back.

* * *

September 9, 17--

Captain's Log,

We quickly lashed the splintered mast and managed to get full sails up before the British ship could draw within range. Then it was a tight race but they proved unable to close the distance and in impotent rage fired more cannon shots, the last of which tore through the main deck and, it grieves me to report, struck none other than my dear Amelia, gruesomely mangling her arms. I had but a moment to console her as the ship's surgeon took her away to saw off the injured part, and then was brought back to my duties by another of the lieutenants, a hugely fat Prussian named Magdalena von Schkwirtzen.

"Sooner or later zis British devil vill be upon us," Magdalena said.

"How many men do they carry aboard that sort of ship?" I inquired, as I heard Amelia's screams coming from below decks. Poor thing.

"Far too many for hand to hand combat," Sally said. "Yet what other choice have we? We're a week out from any safe port."

"We must convince them to give up the chase," I said.

"How would ye do that? Put up the quarantine flag?"

"Zey vould zink us anyway," Magdalena said.

"That's it," I said. "If the only way that they will stop is if we are sunk, we must make them think we have sunk." And I quickly outlined my plan.

We occupied ourselves, out of sight, in preparing the Detritus of a doomed vessel. By the time darkness fell we had the row boat loaded with most of the powder we had stolen, as well as a great variety of personal effects and stores, and, it grieves me to say, the bodies of our fallen comrades-- including our late captain. Yet I knew that she would have approved of any measure which would allow us to escape.

By the time night came I assembled the crew. "Once the plan is in effect, we must have absolute quiet, absolute darkness," I said. "We will fly only a minimum of sails, painted black-- a nice touch, that, actually, I think I'll keep it as part of my Brand Identity."

The time came. It was dark. We prepared a volley of cannons. Miranda's Nubian, a powerful thrower in our on-board games of topless volleyball, clasped another torch and an axe; the rowboat, loaded with its grisly cargo, floated several yards from the ship.

We fired the cannons, creating a great mass of smoke around us, and at that moment the axe cut the tow-rope. While the smoke still enveloped us, the Nubian threw the torch onto the rowboat and all hands extinguished any lights on board our vessel. We braced-- and then with a terrific roar, the rowboat exploded, knocking all of us to the deck and shooting its remains high into the heavens above us.

Wordlessly the crew went into action; and within moments the black sails had been raised and we were away, leaving a floating mass of splintered wood, bodies and other Flotsam for the British ship to come upon in the darkness.

The plan worked; we disappeared into the night as the British ship laid anchor near the site of the explosion, searching the waters for survivors or more signs of our destruction. They might not believe it, but it would be a good day before their suspicions would be strong enough to cause them to pursue us-- and by then they would have no idea which way we had gone.

"We have eluded capture," I said to the crew as midnight passed. "By the laws of our tribe of Sapphic pirates, let us celebrate our good fortune in the way best known to us, by supping at one anothers' twats and fucking with our hands and tongues!"

A general cheer went up-- but it was cut short by a sword, thrust fiercely into the wood of the deck. It was Sally Nottlewick, with murder in her eyes. "By the laws of our tribe, I challenge your right to be captain over us," she said. "Miranda's mind were unmoored by her wounds, and she did not know of what she spoke. By rights it ought to be Kate, or Magdalena--"

"I hardly think you take so rash a step for anyone but yourself, Sally," I said. "I accept your challenge, if you do not choose, at this last instant, to return to your senses and withdraw it."

"I do not," she growled, and the crew stood back to give us room.

Miranda had told me once what the rules for a Captain's Challenge were-- not that any had ever dared such a move against her. I took my top off and Sally did likewise, though the contrast between my slender body (even with the few pounds I had gained of late) and handsomely round breasts, and her sturdy frame and large, hanging mams was quite apparent. Next we slid out of our pants and stood, fully naked, before the crew.

One of the bosuns quickly made the instrument we would need-- a short rope with a belaying pin tied to each end. I hopped up on a box and spread my legs wide, rubbing my pussy to begin my juices flowing. Sally did the same, though the box creaked under her weight and I daresay the sight that greeted her, of myself in the act of Self-Pleasure, was far more inspiring than her crude swabbing of her pubic deck. Then we each took one of the belaying pins and slid it into our sexes, till it was full inside. We stood up, grasping the belaying pin inside our cunnies with the force of our thighs, the rope stretched between us, and each of us was handed a cutlass.

"Let the Challenge begin!" someone cried, and we were at it.

We stood apart, the rope between our sexes a little longer than arm's length, our cutlasses at the ready. I suspected Sally would try to use her weight to pull me off my feet so I watched the slack in the rope; she made a thrust at me which I parried and then she jerked back, the belaying pin rubbing my sex roughly but not unpleasantly. I was ready for it and ran to follow, catching her on the arm with a light cut from my saber as I ran behind her and she turned to swing at me.

I licked my lips and pulled the rope to a couple of times to excite her puss (and my own-- for the pulling of the belaying pin against my sex was bringing on the first signs of the Tingle). She lunged at me, her fat teats and belly rippling with the exertion, but I pushed the sword down to the deck with my own and then grabbed the rope and jerked it upward sharply two or three times. I could see that she was flushed with the excitement-- damn! Her blade grazed my breast as I leapt back, and a thin line of red spread across my chest.

Now we faced each other, each having drawn blood, and she looked at me with a most deadly visage. She made her move again, trying to throw me off balance but I went with the rope tugging at my loins and swung my blade in passing. A howl went from Sally and I saw I had lopped off one of her ears. Blood streaming from her head, she swung wildly again and I waited till the blade was down before tossing mine to my left hand-- and placing it at her throat. Now she stood still, fully expecting me to finish her, but I forced her backwards onto one of the cannons and, letting the belaying pin slide out of my own pussy, pressed it to her mouth.

"Suckle my Cock-Monkey, mutinous harlot. Do you grant that the Challenge is mine?"

I could see that she was considering, for a moment, whether Death was preferable to acquiescing, but in the end she muttered "I grant you victory," and took the belaying pin briefly into her mouth at my urging before spitting it out at me.

At last the revelry could begin, and all around us the crew began kissing, licking and suckling at one another's mouths, breasts and sexes. Hippolyte, my new companion, came up to me and asked what I planned to do with Sally.

"If I spared her life, I must take her into my bed, such is the Sapphic pirate's law," I said. I could see the rank disappointment in Hippolyte's face, and so I quickly added, "But there is certainly room for three in the Captain's quarters," and she smiled and then kissed me on the lips, grabbing my bottom in her hand.

* * *

A few minutes later we were in my cabin; Sally, respecting without question the Sapphic pirate's law, lay in my bed nude, awaiting my pleasure. Hippolyte seemed almost agog at her size, the huge teats rolling off to each side, the vast plain of her belly, the thighs thick as an elephant's leg.

We let Sally wait while we took our pleasure of each other first. Now was the time for slow kisses, and I found Hipployte's large lips and agile tongue most soft and eager companions, as I likewise found her pleasingly curved, though by no means corpulent, form most delightful to run my hands up and down. She pulled my blouse over my head and suckled at my nipples, squeezing her soft cheeks between my breasts and purring, contentedly, as she worked her way down my belly, nuzzling it with her little upturned nose.

She pulled my pantaloons down and, gripping my round bottom with her fingers, pressed her face deeply into my bush. I lay back on the bed, nudging over Sally, who was furiously rubbing her sex at the sight of us. At last Hippolyte put her tongue to my lips, separating the petals with the tip and delving deep within the velvety insides (a bit raw though they were from the Challenge) to coat her milk-chocolate face with a fine lacquer of my effluvient. It was but a few moments before the Tingle erupted in me and I sighed with delight, biting my knuckle at the long-delayed ecstasy, so bittersweet with the memories of Miranda this room evoked! (Oh, and poor Amelia too. Must remember to check on her in the morning, and see if she survived the amputations.)

Hippolyte moved up and we kissed, me licking my juices off her face, feeling each other's tits and bums and scratchy fur as we got to know one another's bodies (and constantly bumped into Sally's big ass). Suddenly, though, she stopped. "What is it, my sweet?" I said.

"It is but a little thing-- but-- I must make water," she said. "Is there a chamber pot handy?"

A devilish idea snuck into my head. "Sally, do you wish to taste of this delicate cocoa bonbon?"

"Yes, yes," she grunted as her hands continued to frig away furiously at her crotch, her belly and fat thighs rippling and heaving with every thoroughbred-fast stroke.

"Then Sally shall be your chamber-pot," said I, and Sally's grunts seemed to suggest that the idea was most exciting to her as well.

We put down an oilskin; Hippolyte seemed uncertain but she arranged herself over Sally's face and Sally's broad mouth beckoned eagerly for the stream that was to come. Hippolyte laughed in embarassment, but I kissed her deeply to distract her and in a moment the golden nectar began to flow from her pee-hole, splashing all over Sally's face and into her mouth. She took it eagerly and swallowed done a first gulp so as to have room for another.

Then she moved back and let her piss puddle in the middle of Sally's fat belly and mountainous teats, splashing each of her thick, thumb-like nipples with the stream from her delicate brown cunny.

Curious, I bent down and stuck out my own tongue, the salty liquid splashing onto it and then rolling down my chest. I moved my breasts into its path and enjoyed the feeling of the hot stream cascading over me; then I thrust a breast into Sally's mouth and she sucked at it hungrily as the Tingle at last overtook her.

Hippolyte moved down and, hesitatingly, licked at my salty wet tits as well. In truth, t'were nothing worse than the liquor of an oyster, and we both took our turns sucking at Sally's fat teats, dipping our hands in the puddle of piss and smearing it all over her breasts, into her mouth, cupping it and letting it run down ourselves. Within a few moments I too felt that I could make water and soaked Hippolyte and Sally both, the three of us rolling around in the wet, salty mess licking and sucking every part of us until in time the water grew cold.

We were to enjoy many pleasures together in Miranda's bed as the night passed, and (irresponsibly for one in such a position of authority) I slept quite late until Magdalena knocked at my cabin door. Something seemed amiss as she did so, but I could not, in my groggy state, place it at first. I opened the door and received her, nude.




The Sapphic Pirate Miranda Pt. 05



She surveyed the room as I did so. "Hmm, perhaps I should be challengink der Captain too," she muttered. "However, we have a much graver situation."

"Is the British ship returned?" I gasped in dread.

"Worse, mein captain," she said. "Do you not feel it? We are becalmed. Not a breath of wind to move us an inch until our stores run empty and we perish."

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED...



The Sapphic Pirate Miranda Pt. 06



Part the Sixth: In Which Miss Esme Winterblossom, Having Ascended To The Post of Captain Aboard The Ship of The Late Miranda, And Finding Her Reign Of Brigandry Likely To Be Cut Short By The Loss of Sailing Wind And, Thus, Probable Death From Thirst At Sea, Makes An Astounding Discovery.

* * *

September 13, 17--

Captain's Log,

For four days we have been becalmed in this beastly Sargasso Sea. I grow most Weary of the stench of the seaweed, which hangs on us due to the lack of wind.

At first, the crew saw this pause in our flight as an opportunity for debauchery, and there was quite a party had on the deck. My new favourite, Hippolyte, and I enjoyed the pleasures to be had from our fellow pirates, though I will say that the other captive we took, a girl named Alexandra, did not take to Sapphic pleasures as readily as her companion. I ordered her lashed to the main mast during the festivities, her breasts bared (though she has so little in that department that we might as well have undressed a boy), in order that she might observe the delights savoured, but as of yet my action has not had the desired effect.

But even Sapphic pleasures must pall, and as day after day of windless torpor has settled upon us, the ambience aboard the ship has grown most tedious. For the moment we do not lack for food, but our water stores are much more limited, and even at half-rations we face only a week more of drinking water if we cannot find some way to leave this place and find a port. They look to me for an answer, and I endeavor to project an Captainly air of confidence, but at night I have cried bitterly at the cruel twists of fate that may well have brought me to my end here in these most Desolate waters.

Speaking of cruel twists of fate, on the third day or so it occurred to me to inquire about my old love Amelia, and see if she had survived the amputations of her mangled arms. I made my way down to the Surgery and was pleased to find her convalescing in a most comfortable hammock, next to several others with suppurating stomach wounds and the like. "Amelia, dearest, how splendid you look!" I cried, then, endeavoring to lighten her mood, added, "There's something different about you, what could it be? Did you change your hair?"

"My fucking arms have been sawn off!" she cried, holding the bandaged stumps up at me, and then added, "I thought you too must have been killed, since it has been three days and never once have you visited me."

I let this ungracious rejoinder pass and said, "As you surely understand, dear Amelia, I have many pressing duties in my new position. Come, come; let us look on the bright side. There are many on this ship who have lost a hand or a leg, and are none the worse for it; I myself lopped off one of Sally Nottlewick's ears just the other day. We shall get you fitted out with hooks, or perhaps a telescope on one arm," I said, then, eyeing her lasciviously, I said, "Indeed, it occurs to me that there are other, more delicious implements which could be fitted to your stumps and we could have fun with those some evening--"

"How can you think of that!" she cried, and turning away from me, began to sob. But in fact the site of Amelia laying there, so helpless, with her bandaged arms-- well, former arms-- and bare legs and feet did stir something in my loins.

"When I look at you, that is all I can think of, my Amelia de Milo, my oldest and dearest friend," I said, and she softened a bit at that. "I do not see the part of you that is missing--" indeed, that was logically impossible-- "but rather, I see new ways you might develop your talents to give pleasure. Talents I... have always found the greatest pleasure in..."

As I said this to her I began to press my sex against her foot. She struggled to get away but in the drooping hammock, and armless, she had little ability to maneuver, and so there was little she could do to prevent me from pulling my skirt over her leg and then pressing her toes up against my pussy. That organ quickly dampened as I rubbed it over the big toe, which slid inside my folds readily. She resigned herself to this act, and began to frig my cunny with her foot, the big toe going inside me, the foot rubbing my clitoris. Within a few moments of this action, during which I made her foot quite sodden, I am sure, I felt the Tingle and grabbed the rope holding the hammock next to hers, being joined in moaning by the badly wounded patient in that swing who was awakened from a fitful sleep by my jerking of the rope.

Once I had completed my Tingle, I wiped Amelia's foot off with a surgeon's cloth and said, "Duty calls, I'll leave you to enjoy the pleasure of your own Tingle alone," and walked away, only later realizing that, in fact, her stumps were probably insufficient in length to that purpose. Well, somebody would help her, I expect!

* * *

September 14, 17--

Captain's Log,

My officers-- Sally Nottlewick, Kate Greasely, and Magdalena von Schkwirtzen-- gathered around the table in my quarters the next morning, while Hippolyte lounged on the bed, one breast sloping enticingly out of her open top. "Ve could easily face two weeks mit out the vind," Magdalena said, as she pointed to a chart of the Sea in which we were becalmed. "By zat time, I expect all but a few remnants will have perished from thirst."

"Ghastly," I said. "Are there no options to extend our supply of liquid?"

"Only one," she said. "Ve could drink the blood of one or two unfortunates per day, thus prolonging the life of the remainder. However, ze effect on morale of this cold-blooded murder iss... unpredictable."

"Horrid," I said. "Can't we just row ourselves out of here or something?"

"We blew up the rowboat," Sally reminded me.

"Right," I said. "Well, it's a grim picture, to be sure, but let's keep our chins up, and remember that we're British, that is, except for those of us who aren't," I said, in my most Captainly fashion, but it did not seem to inspire the confidence I had hoped.

"I know something we could do," said Hippolyte, unexpectedly, from the bed. A couple of the officers rolled their eyes, not being accustomed to discussing matters of Strategy with the captain's bed-companion, but I figured we had little to lose by seeing what she meant.

She stood up and walked toward us. "An old voodoo woman on St. Roger's taught me some of the gris-gris," she said. "There is a ritual for opening a hole in the world, a slit which will suck you right in and take you places you never dreamed of." She had a dreamy, almost Mesmeric look on her face as she spoke this tommy-rot, and I could see that her flight of fancy was not going over at all well with my more practical-minded officers.

"What does this ritual involve?" I asked.

"A chicken and as much fucking as we can conjure up," she said. "I have seen the old woman do it. One minute she was there, the next-- pfft. She did not come back for a week."

I looked at the officers. "What have we got to lose? It will at least divert the crew for an afternoon. Tell us more, Hippolyte."

"We say the words the old woman taught me, and everybody is fucking and sucking, and when you get to the most important words... you cut off the chicken's head as a virgin has her bottom rendered by a man's pants-sword."

"Ah," I said, softening the blow. "Well, there's the problem. I suppose, technically speaking, that we have a number of virgins on board, in the sense that several of the crew have never had the male digit in their sex; indeed I myself am one, having always been careful to avoid becoming with child in my youthful play at home. And we still have some chickens, I believe. But then we come to the problem of fucking in the arse, which really requires a man and a cock, and that's the last thing we have on this ship. So unless another boat happens to get stuck here next to us, I don't see how this solves our problem."

The meeting went on for a bit but I am too distressed to relate any more of it. Suffice it to say that no way out of our predicament presented itself. Either we gain wind in the next few days, or we die.

* * *

Sept. 15, 17--

Captain's Log,

Windless again. Woe!

* * *

Sept. 16, 17--

Captain's Log,

In an effort to divert myself from the woes of Captaincy on this accursed ship in this blasted place of Death, I decided to see what pleasure could be had from attempting to woo the second of our two unlucky captives from the island of St. Roger, Alexandra.

Where Hippolyte had a most curvaceous form, Alexandra seemed so underdeveloped as to be almost boyish, slender, a bit strong-featured, but a poetic creature, almost faerie-like in the way she pranced about. I found her appealing but, alas, she seemed to shrink from the female touch as I sat next to her on my bed and stroked her face. "There is nothing to fear, dear Alexandra," I said comfortingly. "Though if we are in peril, should we not make pleasant our last days by enjoying the comforts of fleshly love? Have you ever enjoyed physical pleasure with another?"

"Hellooo, girlfriend," Alexandra said, in that peculiarly emphatic way she had of speaking. "Earth to pirate lady, get a clue."

I nuzzled her cheek and rubbed her flat, undeveloped breast under the cloth. "So you have been with someone? Was it a boy?"

"Sister, I've had more cock than the prize hen at the Lancashire County Fair," Alexandra exclaimed, waving her arms about her all flibbertygibbet. "What do you think I was doing hanging around the waterfront, scraping barnacles?"

"So... you have been forced into a life of harlotry by wicked men," I said, as I rubbed my way up Alexandra's leg, which she kept pressed tightly together-- and in those muscular thighs I found most ungirlish strength. "I know the things you've had to do, and I can assure you that Sapphic love is most unlike the rough treatment of men--"

"I'm getting that impression," she said, and rolled her eyes at me. "Of all the ships to wind up on, I have to get shanghaiied by the HMS Gash."

"Would you not like to suckle at my breasts for comfort?" I said, exposing one to her.

"Only if they're eight inches long and black as an iron bar," she said, as I forced my hand further up her skirt. "Oh, for Christ's sake, Miss Thing, can't you figure it out?" she said, and she lifted up her skirt to reveal-- Alexandra was Alexander!

"A cock and balls!" I cried in delight, and reached to take the organ in my hand.

"Well, it isn't a croquet mallet," she-- I mean he-- said. "I thought you'd get the hint, but since you force me to whip it out, now can I go back to the business of dying of thirst without another cock to keep me company while you girls go back to singing folk songs and licking slit?"

"Oh, blessed cock," I said, and bestowed a kiss upon it, which made it rise to greet me. I kissed up and down the shaft and to the round balls below.

"I know just how you feel, but listen, you're really not my type, that is, I don't go for oyster on the fur shell," Alexander said, as I began to lick up and down the shaft, now fully hard in my mouth. I clamped my hand on his mouth and pushed him backward. Oh, a working cock aboard my ship! I could not resist the delight of sucking it in gratitude, as I had upon occasion done for suitors, handsome servant boys, visiting clergymen, etc. back at the family estate before I was so cruelly sent off to a life at sea.

"Whatever," I heard him say, and as I sucked that blessed instrument I reached under myself and got some of my wetness upon my finger, then inserted it into Alexander's bottom. "Go girlfriend," he said admiringly, and within a moment his seed erupted in my mouth and I, not wanting to waste liquid in our present state, happily swallowed it down, every drop.

When I was finished I pulled him to his feet and led him out the door, naked as Adam. "Crew! All hands on deck! I've got something to show you!"

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED...



The Sapphic Pirate Miranda Pt. 07



Part the Final: In Which Miss Esme Winterblossom, Now Wearing The Mantle Of The Late Sapphic Pirate Miranda, Conceives An Extraordinary Plan Of Escape For Her Crew From The Sargasso Sea, Through The Use of A Rite Suggested By Her Catamite Hippolyte, And Boldly Goes Where No Sapphic Pirate Has Gone Before

* * *

Sept. 17, 17--

And Beyond The Infinite

Captain's Log,

"I know many of you are unhappy to find that we have one of the Male Tribe on board," I shouted to the crew. "Rather I regard it as the hand of Providence Herself, that She has guided to our care two whom we need most at this our hour of desperation: the girl Hippolyte, with the knowledge of ancient and magical rituals, and the boy Alexander, with the cock to seal the compact of that ritual." There were mutterings of disgust at this last, but I pressed on. "I would not ask one of you to do what I would not do myself, so I shall take this happy cock into my bottom, while the rest of you may comport as you see fit, the only requirement being to frolic as vigorously as possible. Now you bad girls, let's party!"

All around me Sapphic pirates of every description began to fling off their clothes and expose their soft, flabby bodies, rolling into one another's flesh, licking at teats and fingering cunnies. Hippolyte, Alexander and I remained on the quarter-deck, and likewise bared ourselves, the hot sun beating down on us. Hippolyte kissed me and rubbed my breasts with her soft, cocoa-colored hands, while I took hold of Alexander's cock and began to stroke it to prepare it for its unexpected journey into the female sex.

As the action below us reached a frenzy (as one might expect in those fully expecting to die shortly), I bent over and Alexander applied grease to my bottom, while Hippolyte, chanting the words taught her by the old voodoo witch on St. Roger, removed the chicken from its cage and picked up the knife. I felt the tip of Alexander's cock at my arse-entry, and looked at lovely Hippolyte, my exquisite milk chocolate delight, as I braced myself for what Miranda herself had warned me was great pain. "Now," I said, and as Hippolyte came to the pivotal part of her text, I felt my arse-hole expand with the head of Alexander's cock, whilst the blade flashed and blood spurted from the chicken onto my face as the wings of its headless body thrashed in Hippolyte's arms. I felt myself being hollowed out from inside, yet as overwhelming as the Sensation was, it was not completely unpleasurable. Indeed, I soon grew to enjoy the sensation of my bum being pushed in and pulled out, the slap of Alexander's thighs against my own with each thrust of his manhood. Even when there was Pain, it was truly a great consolation to have Hippolyte's round, sweaty breasts to suckle at, licking her nipples as the cock tickled the innermost ring of my bottom.

But could this ritual actually save us, or had we gone mad in our desperation that we should place our hope in these uncivilized rites? As Alexander, squeezing his own nipples, fucked away at my arse, nothing seemed to change in our situation, as indeed any educated person could only have expected.

Then, off in the far distance, I saw something that looked like a cyclone forming on the water. Yet it was not shaped like a cyclone, but rather, rounded on either side and coming to a point at each end, yet with shimmering folds inside it. "Yes, fuck me harder!" I cried to Alexander, thrusting my bottom against him as the apparition, whatever it was, came to us. On the main deck others had noticed it too and had stopped their activities to look at it; I shouted "Fuck and lick harder, you Pirates, if you seek to escape this graveyard in the sea!" and they returned, faithfully but questioningly, to the job at hand.

The thing moved toward us, there was a roar like a waterfall, in an instant it was all around us-- and then the world grew black.

"Yes, fuck me, deeper into my ass, deeper!" I cried, and though we could see nothing around us we had the sensation of unimaginable speed. It was blackness and yet a blur... it went on in this way for many minutes... and then light began to return to it, and I could see the sea below us... but they were not the tropical waters in which we had sailed before.

* * *

September 18, 17-- [scratched out]

Date Unknown

Captain's Log,

A city, a great capitol of snowcovered stone buildings, lay stretched out before us, dotted here and there with church spires in the Slavic style. More noteworthy, however, was the commotion taking place directly before our eyes, a mob bearing torches, shouting wildly and pounding at the doors of a lavish mansion near the waterfront. So frenzied was the mob that they scarce noticed our presence in their seaport.

The orgy aboard our vessel had ceased in wonder at our strange voyage, and Alexander had reached the point of male satiety and withdrawn from my bum, so I and my crew quickly dressed and I ordered all hands to take up arms as we sought to see what the cause of this unruly mob was.

We disembarked in a body and I stopped the first passerby I saw. "What port is this?" I asked.

"Snerdsk," he said dismissively, as if the question were absurd.

"What is the cause of this disturbance?"

"Do you not know the house of Madam Slubenka, the most infamous brothel in all Schmertzylvania?"

"We are strangers in these parts," I said.

"I did not think there was a corner of the Baltic where Slubenka's house was not known," he said. "Every depravity known to man, and many new ones, have been practiced there. Or perhaps I should say known to woman, since it is Slubenka herself who has invented so many crimes against God."

My kind of woman. "Tell me more about this Slubenka."

"She is little enough to look at, fat and sturdily-built," he said. "They say she was a respectable governess until meeting some rake of an officer aboard a train. She fell for him, the foolish cow, he threw her over, and she has since devoted her life to extracting profit from vice, preying on the weakness of men. But all that will end today, thanks to Father Goruvnik, our Prophet, who will cleanse the city of her filth!" And he ran on to join the crowd, now beating at the doors with clubs under the direction of a long-robed priest with greasy black hair and beard.

"Do you hear that, my Pirates?" I cried. "A woman of our own type, under threat from a priest and a sanctimonious mob happy enough to patronize her in private and burn her alive in public. Let's go!"

* * *

It is perhaps best not to describe in too much detail the bloodshed that followed. Suffice it to say that by the time my Pirates and I were done, Father Goruvnik and many of the good folk of Snerdsk had been sent to their God, and I was drinking tea with Slubenka in her bed, while my Pirates enjoyed a party with the employees of her establishment (Alexander was particularly delighted to find on the staff several boys his age). Very similar we were, Slubenka and I, I must say, though I am of course much prettier.

I nuzzled up against her large, unclothed form, savoring the warmth of her enveloping fat, the rolls of her belly, the thick muscularity of her thighs, as all of it spilled over and embraced my much smaller self. "Do you not fear the reprisals of the police?" I asked.

"There is not a man on the police force who does not take home more from me than from his salary," she said. "No, I feared only the mob, and now we will hear no more from them, I'm certain."

"You are a remarkable woman, Slubenka," I said. "I heard a little of your story-- is it true that you were ruined by an officer?"

"Yes, when I was young and easily led astray," she said. "You met him, you know--"

"I did?"

"Yes, the tall, dissipated roue behind the bar. I bought up his gambling debts and had him thrown out of the army. Once a year I take him to bed, just to keep his shame fresh in his mind."

"Most ingenious," I said, nuzzling up to her large, peasant-like bulk. We kissed again, more slowly this time as I no longer had the rush of feelings occasioned by my arse-fucking and the quantity of blood I had shed. I grabbed one of her huge, squarish teats and sucked it into my mouth as she moaned with pleasure, then moved down her capacious belly to part her thick legs and lick at her mound. "No-- not that again--" she said, and I looked up to see what was the matter.

"I have been waiting for someone from whom I could truly accept one gift in particular," she said. She got up from the bed and took a sheaf of long brown branches tied together from her wall. "You are strong enough to do the thing I ask," and she knelt down beside the bed, exposing her broad back and buttocks to me. "Father Goruvnik was right; I am a sinner, a very great sinner. And it is you, dearest Esme, who will punish me for my sin."

"What, you want me to beat you?"

"Is my meaning not plain enough?" she barked. "Now! Punish me!"

I took the branches in my hand and gave them a couple of flicks in the air, then brought them down firmly-- I thought perhaps too firmly-- on her back. "Harder!" she cried, and so I did. The next one produced a rapidly swelling red welt; the next after that drew blood, which dribbled down her broad, capacious back and down to the crack of her wide arse. I whipped her six or seven more times before she leaped up, pushed me forward onto the bed, and spread my bum, licking my (still-sore) arse-hole while muttering something in her native tongue which sounded, by its rhythms, suspiciously like a prayer of forgiveness.

Perhaps we were not so alike after all.

* * *

Date Unknown (2nd)

Captain's Log,

We boarded our ship at last, exhausted, satiated and with our stores of water and food (not to mention wine) restocked as a gift of gratitude by Slubenka and her girls. Along the way I caught her eyeing poor Amelia, stumbling along with her bandaged stumps, and Slubenka drew me aside and informed me that there was quite a taste among certain members of the aristocracy for girls in her state. It took but a minute to arrive at a price and I soon had Amelia carried off by some of Slubenka's porters. "Don't worry, darling, you shall be treated very well, and spared the troubles of seafaring to live in a beautiful house," I called after her as she was dragged, kicking and screaming, away. She could be most difficult, I have to say. Not like my dear Hippolyte.

Besides Amelia, Alexander (not surprisingly) chose to remain with Madam Slubenka. "It's been a slice. Don't do anything I would do," he said as we bade our goodbye, then turned to kiss a handsome, dark-eyed Tatar on the lips.

I returned to the ship to watch them loading some of the cases of wine. How curious-- the date on the case said 1871, not 1771 as I assumed it must be. A funny mistake to make.

We cast off our ropes and hoisted the anchor, and began to move out into the Baltic Sea. As we did, far off in the distance, I saw what looked like a cyclone. And yet... not like one.

* * *

Our second ride through the slit in the ether was far more tumultuous than our first. The ship was racked by violent impacts, as if we were bouncing from one rock to the next in the shallows. Yet as before, absolute blackness surrounded us on every side. A moment came when we began to hear voices--

"I'm getting something--"

"Roger, initiating retraction sequence--"

"She's breaking up, she's breaking up--"

Suddenly forms appeared around us and we seemed to be tumbling through a vast cavern lit by some unearthly light such as we had never seen. In this cave, as bright as if there were daylight though no sun could be seen, we seemed to be in a kind of Amphitheatre, and in its center a group of about ten people were fucking as furiously as we had the day before, while all around them were what looked (by their bearing and weaponry) to be soldiers, though they looked like no Army I had ever seen.

I understood that they were engaged in the same sort of ritual which Hippolyte had initiated for us, which no doubt explained why we were appearing to them and they to us; yet it was extraordinary that a secret society of such vastness and resources should exist in whatever country (the Vatican?) this was. There seemed to be great frenzy among the soldiers and we heard much shouting--

"I can't hold her much longer--"

"Who the hell are they?"

"Something's pulling them away from us--"

"How did a god-dam ship get in here?"

"Is she going back to her time?"

"You said we'd conjure up Yog--"

"She's going forward--"

"We're losing her--"

"How'd we conjure up a fucking pirate ship instead?"

"She's heading for the future--"

"Mr. President, you must decide now--"

"You down there! Fuck harder, god dammit!"

The din of the slit approaching us drowned out any further communication-- and once again, we were rushing into blackness.

* * *

Date Unknown (3rd)

Captain's Log,

Again, light began to break around us and we found ourselves hurtling at speed beyond Reason toward an unearthly city of towers that gleamed like the blades of swords. The sea was full of ships, yet not a single one bore sails, and all were moving by some mysterious means of Locomotion. Even more remarkably, the sky too was filled with ships of a different Design, which likewise moved not by sail but along a thin white streak of smoke.

There was little enough time for such reflections, however, as it seemed as though our Doom had arrived at last. In the final instant before we crashed into the port, however, enormous balloons exploded all around us, cushioning our crash and stopping us with a jarring, yet harmless, impact. "Welcome to the Port of Thinopolis. Your safety is our number one concern. No smoking, meat-eating, or fast walking is permitted within the terminal complex..." said a disembodied voice, its strange words echoing all around us.

It was a most curious place, this Thinopolis. The streets were not brick or mud but a kind of blue sponge, which the occupants had some difficulty walking upon, but which was so soft that it cushioned their falls, which were frequent. All around us more voices resounded-- "Loud noises are not permitted in multicultural areas." "Stay healthy-- eat eleven servings of delicious FlavKelp today, now in Strawberry Mocha!" "Please be tolerant of the gluten-intolerant." Perhaps because of this constant harangue, the residents of the city had a drawn and hungry look, like itinerants too long between work. Indeed, no matter where I looked, the one thing that could not be found was a person who was otherwise than scrawny and overly sinewed. My crew was the picture of robust, hearty English health next to these wan, half-starved creatures.

"We have had a hard journey," I said to the crew. "I think we would best be served by preparing a feast and gathering our wits about us over dinner."

There was little argument about that and within minutes one of the piglets had been slaughtered and was roasting on a spit on the main deck. After our ordeal the succulent smell of pork was most comforting.

What it was not, apparently, was welcome in the precincts of Thinopolis. After the pig had roasted for a bit, we noticed passersby in the street reacting in horror, and one or two even going so far as to retch upon the blue sponge walkways (which prompted an immediate spray of some foul chemical worse than the original stench).

Within moments, a phalanx of blue-helmeted soldiers bearing rifles of a curious design had appeared from metal carriages along the portside, and one of them was shouting some twaddle at us about "unlawful eating of meat," "lack of Identi-toos," surrender immediately, and so on and anon. Really, how very rude to interrupt a meal with the Tedium of official business.

"Fire," I said, and the crew let off a volley of six-pounders, slaughtering the soldiers in a hideous explosion of blood and guts upon the very port itself. Most satisfying, especially as several of the metal carriages exploded on their own. What I had not reckoned on, however, was the result of firing cannons directly at the blue sponge sidewalk; it caught our cannonballs and bounced them back toward us at almost undiminished speed, where they punctured our hull in a dozen places. The old ship began to lurch ominously.

"All pirates take up arms and abandon ship!" I cried, and my crew took their cutlasses and began jumping from the sinking deck to the port. I motioned to a few of the gals and what working rifles amid the gruesome carnage we could find, we picked up, though I had to urge caution after one of the midshipwomen tested hers and splattered a passing local against a wall advertising this FlavKelp of theirs, which appeared to be some form of minimal Sustenance. In light of how dreadful it looked, I was relieved to see that the pig and some of the wine had been brought along to sustain us.

"Violator alert. You must surrender at once to proper authorities. Failure to comply will go on your permanent record," a sort of talking painting with a woman's face on it shouted at us from atop one of the port buildings.

"Where will we go, Captain?" first mate Kate asked me. "How will we make our escape without a ship? We know nothing of this land."

"We will not escape," I said. "We shall rule. Do you not see how the people cower from us? Do you not see how thin and ill-fed and soft they seem?" Kate and some of the others began to look around, and to see what I had seen here. "This is a rich, pampered land, and it is for the taking by fighting women such as us!" I pointed at the talking painting. "We must go where she is. All around this city they see her face. If we can put our faces and our bloody cutlasses on that painting in her place, so that every man, woman and child in this city sees us, the day will be ours."

* * *

It was little enough work to get the location of the talking-painting woman from one of the terrified locals at swordpoint. We made our way in a body toward the palace, which for some reason they called "the Studio," and as we did so a curious thing happened.

As word spread, as we cut and shot our way through one group of guards after another, slowly members of the local population began to join us, both men and women. Some were enticed by the smell of the pig, which we shared gladly with these people, many of whom had never tasted honest meat before; they almost cried with joy at the taste. Others were plainly attracted to my piratical crew, complimenting them on their abundant bosoms, their large bottoms, their womanly curves in such contrast to the narrow, bony forms of their own men and women. It was a struggle to keep my forces moving and not have them dissolve into groups of sexual trysts. But above all, they seemed to rejoice at the overthrow of their oppressors, and to take joy in the freedom to eat meat and grow fat.

At a certain point I thought we might have a real battle on our hands, as we encountered a band of woodspeople coming over the city wall. But it turned out that they too had come to join our fight, and I had every reason to believe them, for they too had the build of joyful meat-eaters so unlike the deprived FlavKelp-eaters.

By the time we reached the studio we were perhaps six hundred strong, and there was no force left to resist us as we bashed in the (most impractically made of glass) doors, ascended the stairs, and found the studio where the woman in the talking painting was speaking, her image somehow carried to all the paintings at once. She was able to let out only a single shriek before I took her head off with my cutlass, and then, addressing myself to the curious instrument to which she had been speaking, said: "People of Thinopolis! The cruel oppressors who have ruled over you are no more, their guards lay dead in your streets. Life in Thinopolis will be different and freer now, for I am your new ruler and your deliverer-- yes, I, the fabled Sapphic Pirate Miranda!"




The Sapphic Pirate Miranda Pt. 07



* * *

Half the city came out for the party we threw, burning the remnants of the old regime (including some old nanny-goat scolds we'd found who went to their deaths screaming about how we'd all die of something called "cholesterol"-- well, not as fast as they died, I reckon). Though that wretched FlavKelp stank so badly when we burned it that instead we had a sort of "Tea Party" with it in the river. The woodspeople brought animals to cook, and once they'd had their first taste of meat in years, the residents of Thinopolis (which I was pondering renaming... how do you like "Mirandaville?") soon found themselves having randy thoughts. My big-assed pirate crew proved highly popular, some extracting substantial prices for sex with men, others finding various Thinopolis females to their fancy for Sapphic frolics.

Myself, I was little enough interested in the waiflike Thinopolis sort but I was much taken with the leader of the woodspeople, a man named Kroll, and his woman, a most curvaceous redhead named Sarah. Both had escaped from Thinopolis' dreary regimen some years earlier, and lived a happier life in the woods, planning for the day when their numbers would be sufficient to overthrow the city.

"Will there be peace between our peoples?" Kroll asked me frankly, as we drank Slubenka's wine on the terrace, and below us the bonfire burned brightly and so, too, did the passions of our peoples.

"There is one way aboard my ship in which we seal the sacredness of such a pact," said I. "In bed."

Kroll looked at Sarah and she smiled at him, generously. "I trust your love enough that I do not fear one night with another," she said, and he took her hands and looked back at her with the utmost devotion.

"Um, not to intrude on this tender scene, but maybe you forgot I'm the SAPPHIC Pirate Miranda," I said. "I was speaking of her."

"Oh!" Sarah said. "I-- I've never been with--"

"Sister, you're in for a treat," I said. "Is this acceptable to you, Kroll?"

He shrugged. "What can I say except what she said? I trust her as she trusts me."

"Great," I said, grabbing Sarah's arm and pulling her toward my bed-chamber. "Make yourself at home. Hippolyte, show him a good time."

* * *

Sarah was, unsurprisingly, hesitant and shy, and I proceeded gently with her. First we cuddled and kissed, her abundantly rounded form well-cushioned without being fat; slowly she grew more comfortable, her tongue peeking out of her mouth as our lips met, stroking my breast as I stroked hers. I lifted her woolen sweater over her head and breathed in the damp sweatiness of the cotton shirt underneath, nuzzling the space between her ample breasts.

I moved down and lifted the shirt to expose a soft belly, kissing it as I kneaded her breasts in their bodice. Her head rolled back on the bed and I knew she was lost in the pleasure of another woman's gentle touch. I moved up to her breasts and she released them from their imprisonment-- oh! They were lovely, round and full, not droopy like so many of those I had become accustomed to seeing on my ship each day-- yet neither were they so petite and erect as my own. They were woman's breasts, not a girl's, and I sucked at their soft abundance most eagerly.

As I did so I could feel Sarah's legs stirring below, as if there were an itch in need of scratching in their vicinity, and I moved down to satisfy that command. I spread her legs apart and rubbed my face in the abundant thatch of red hay between her legs, then began to lightly lick her petals apart, which occasioned an impressive series of moans. I licked and sucked at her womanly flowers vigorously while molding with my hands her ample buttocks; she was near the point of the Tingle when I suddenly pushed her arse into the air and split her buttocks apart to lick at the tiny brown bud between them. "Oh yes, yes, God, yes," she cried, and I slipped a finger into her arse as I went back to licking her puss, and was soon gratified with the unmistakable throes of her Tingle, as she bucked up and down on my face, and her arse-ring throbbed around my finger inside her.

At last her exertions came to an end, and I moved up to lay beside her, basking in the expression of amazement and delight which I found reflected back at me. "Oh Miranda," she said. "I've never felt anything like that," she said, and then she kissed me, licking the taste of her own sex from my face, still liberally coated with her abundant juices.

I was just about to suggest her next move when suddenly there was a knock at the door. "Blast the scurvy dogs," I said, and opened it. Hippolyte and Kroll stood there, both naked, with worried looks. I was amused to note that the hair of both was well-mussed.

"Something awful is about to happen," Kroll said.

"What?" I asked.

"My men have spotted a ship coming our way."

"Ships must use this port every day," I said. "What is so--"

"It's Abdul al-Hassan," he said, and when he saw that that name registered nothing with me, added, in tones of the utmost dread and revulsion, "The Sodomite Pirate Abdul al-Hassan."

* * *

EPILOGUE

"Randi!"

There was no answer.

"Randi! Wake up!"

The girl dozing next to the tree stirred and sat up groggily. Her sister began to brush bits of grass off her long blue dress. "I brought you out here to practice your Latin verbs, not to get lost in your fantasies again."

"I wasn't, I was pondering whether..." the younger girl said, irritably, but trailing off before she could finish the thought.

They stood up, and the older girl began to lead the younger one to the house, looking carefully to make sure no carriages or motorcars were coming down the road as they crossed it. "We have to be back at the house by two, Mother has invited Reverend Pinchwork for tea. What were you thinking of this time? Pirates? Cowboys and Indians? The war with the Zulus?"

"Don't remember," the younger girl muttered, unconvincingly.

"One of them, no doubt. Miranda Sutworth, how a sweet little girl can want to think of such disagreeable subjects is a mystery," the older sister said. "Still, I suppose at your age, it's all innocent fun. You're still too young for the sordid reality to have impinged upon your world, I expect."

"That's right, Amelia," Miranda muttered, as she contemplated the image of a cutlass being brought down upon the Reverend Pinchwork's skull, and the effect that act would have upon one of Mother's interminable teas.

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Those of you who have read other BBW tales by me may have recognized allusions to three other stories of mine. If you enjoyed The Sapphic Pirate Miranda, you may also enjoy those stories both for their own sakes and to read more about the characters who make guest appearances here: "Train to Schmertzylvania," "What Lana Taught Me," and "Escape From Thinopolis." Find them at my author link listed above and below this story.