Bootleg: a Memoir

What you are now reading are my memoirs of the time I spent in a pirate settlement known as Bootleg. The following tales highlight my sexual adventures during that part of my life, and explain the path that first led me into the buccaneer underground. The narrations vary greatly in content, covering everything from descriptions of romantic interludes, to orgies, to bondage scenes. I offer no apology for the contents, nor do I feel shame. Rather I am proud to have escaped the constraints of correct society and lived my life the way I pleased; independent, unfettered, and unbound.

Georgette Noel ----

Chapter 1 : The Beginning

The best thing is to start at the beginning I suppose. I decline to give my last name out of respect for my family, but I was born the daughter of a wealthy noble. The family was respectable and I was raised as a lady and brought up with all the traditional values of society.

My father died when I was fifteen and my mother remarried one year later. She and I left the home where I'd been born and went to live on her new husband's estate with he, his seven sons, and their wives. We lived there together peacefully until I was eighteen, and that's when the trouble began.

The youngest son was 35, married with three children. It was when his wife was pregnant with the fourth that I began to notice him paying me extra attention that didn't quite seem appropriate. I probably should have put a stop to it then and there but I was young, curious, and flattered.

One day we were stranded together in one of the outbuildings during a very nasty storm. It was little more than a shed; a dark, dusty little shack where the gardener stored tools. We stood side by side in the narrow doorway and looked out into a heavy deluge of water and knew we weren't going anywhere soon.

Suddenly I was aware he was looking at me very intently. "You are getting so pretty Georgette. Have you ever touched a man before?"

"No." I whispered, flushing scarlet.

"Of course not. You're being raised to be a lady." he said in a slightly ironic tone. "They teach you girls to sew, but not how to please men. You're old enough to marry off you know."

"I suppose."

"I know father is thinking of making a match for you. You really should be prepared for what's in store on your wedding night." he said quietly as he began unfastening his pants.

I felt slightly panicked but stood rooted to the spot. I wanted to look away, but couldn't bring myself to do it. I couldn't even protest when he took my hand and guided me to stroke his penis. What really fascinated me about it, was the way it began to grow hard at my touch. It roused a strange feeling in me, and I felt a peculiar wetness develop between my legs.

I wasn't completely naïve. I knew how men were made, of course... approximately. Somehow I had expected just a long, smooth shaft, not this thing with bulging veins and purple, mushroom shaped head. I was taken aback by the size too. I'd imagined that a man's member wouldn't be too much bigger than a large finger. His, I learned later, was not really that large; but inexperienced as I was then, I just couldn't imagine it fitting in my body.

But I couldn't take my eyes off it. I watched as drops of pre-cum began to ooze from the little nick in the head. As my curiously exploring hand rubbed them in, I noticed how it made his skin more slick, and easier to stroke.

"You like that, don't you?" he whispered to me. "You know it took my wife six months of marriage before she could bring herself to look at me in the light? They just don't prepare you girls for marriage. Come here."

Taking my hand, he led me deeper into the shed. Placing one firm hand on each of my shoulders, he pushed me to a seated position on an overturned keg. "What are you doing?" I asked a bit fearfully as he put one hand on the back of my head and held his penis in front of my face.

"You should be prepared when you get married, Georgette. And you should know how to please your husband. I'm going to teach you something, that's all. Don't be afraid of me. It's not wrong....it's not incest because I'm not related to you by blood and I'm not going to take your maidenhead. Just be calm."

I looked at his penis, which he was stroking right in front of my nose. Another drop of pre-cum was glistening on the tip. I wondered what it tasted like and instinctively licked my lips.

"I want you to suck it for me, Georgette. Aren't you curious what a man tastes like?"

Of course I was. I was completely mesmerized as I watched the little drop slowly ooze down the shaft as another formed behind it. Experimentally, I flicked it with my tongue.

"Good." he whispered. "Don't stop. Lick it all over."

I did as he said, compelled by a force I could not understand. I knew it wasn't right, and yet I wanted it so much that I couldn't stop. My actions were governed not by him, but by the throbbing feeling going on between my legs. I licked the entire length of his penis, up and down, my tongue possessing a surprising deftness that I hadn't known it had.

"Suck it for me Georgette." he whispered breathlessly. "Like this." Holding my head still with one hand, he gently thrust into my mouth.

Getting the idea, I willingly mimicked the motion on my own, bobbing my head back and forth. Gradually I learned the pace that he seemed to like, and the right pressure and suction to use.

"Hold still now, and relax." he said suddenly, in an urgent tone. He drove his penis into my throat, until my nose was buried in his pubic hair and I started to choke. "Hold still....hold still and it will be easier for you." he gasped as he began thrusting into my mouth. I tried to push him away but he held me fast, his rough pubic hair chafing my face with the force of his grinding against it. Finally I quit fighting and just concentrated on keeping my throat open and breathing.

It only lasted a few seconds, but it seemed like forever. I gagged on his semen as ropes of the sticky white stuff filled my mouth. Afterward he smoothed my hair and told me how proud I should be of myself. "My wife still won't do that for me." he said. "I have to pay the chambermaid."

I was quiet, still thinking about what had just happened, and remained so until the rain stopped and we went our separate ways. For a day or two after that we avoided each other as much as we could. I was horrified by the whole thing, but every time I caught his eye, I remembered what we'd done, and felt that nagging wetness begin again.

Even though I swore not to let it happen again, three days later he found me in a secluded corner of the family library. I don't know how it came about; he must have said something, I must have said something back. All I know is that I ended up on my knees with his penis down my throat again.

This time he pulled out and splattered his seed all over my face. I recoiled, and almost screamed at him, but his wife called for him from just outside the room at that exact moment. Quickly, he fastened his pants and tossed me a handkerchief before going to meet her as if nothing had happened.

As I stood behind the shelves and wiped my face, I knew things had gone too far. This was not going to stop, nor did I want it to. It became a regular thing after that; once, sometimes two or more times a day. I found that I enjoyed doing it, and initiated it myself more often than not. There was a thrill to the forbiddeness of it. I had no feelings for him, nor he for me. It danger and dirtiness that we sought from each other.

Danger indeed. Things might have gone on that way forever with no one noticing, but when things begin to happen, they usually do escalate. This was no exception. And already the wheels were put into motion that would lead me to a pirate settlement hundreds of leagues and a world away from the gentle life into which I had been born.