The Sapphic Pirate Miranda Pt 01

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

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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!

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TO BE CONTINUED...