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

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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

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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."

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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.