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From: "Joris Huysmans" <joriskhuysmans@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} THE SAPPHIC PIRATE MIRANDA, PART THE SIXTH (FF, feet, etc.)
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Date: Tue, 05 Dec 2006 00:10:01 -0500
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I lied and said this had one more chapter to wrap up, but the conclusion was 
long enough I split it in two.  Here's part the sixth, the real, final 
ending will follow later in the week.  As always, comments welcome at 
joriskhuysmans a-thingy hotmail spot com.


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

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!"

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