Message-ID: <54951asstr$1165079401@assm.asstr.org>
From: "Joris Huysmans" <joriskhuysmans@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} THE SAPPHIC PIRATE MIRANDA, PART THE FIFTH (FF+, BBW, ws, some viol)
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Date: Sat, 02 Dec 2006 12:10:01 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

I'm aiming to wrap up Miranda's saga with a big pow finish; here's an 
especially kinky chapter to move us toward that ending.  (You can find 
earlier chapters in this group.)  If you like, always glad to hear from you 
at joriskhuysmans circle-A hotmail pfft! com.


THE SAPPHIC PIRATE MIRANDA, PART THE FIFTH
by Joris K. Huysmans

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.

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."

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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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