Message-ID: <54070asstr$1150452603@assm.asstr.org>
From: "Joris Huysmans" <joriskhuysmans@hotmail.com>
Mime-Version: 1.0
Subject: {ASSM} The Sapphic Pirate Miranda, Part the First (FF hist BBW)
Lines: 318
Date: Fri, 16 Jun 2006 06:10:03 -0400
Path: assm.asstr.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Dearest Reader,

The latest in our Series of weekly BBW Tales, aimed at the improvement of 
the Young, is the first in a series which will continue over successive 
Weeks.  Please address missives of a complimentary nature to JorisKHuysmans, 
courtesy of hotmail-dot-com.

Yr hmbl & obdt srvt,
JKH



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

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


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.

*  *  *

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.

*  *  *

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.

*  *  *

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!

_________________________________________________________________
Don't just search. Find. Check out the new MSN Search! 
http://search.msn.click-url.com/go/onm00200636ave/direct/01/

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <story-submit@asstr.org>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-admin@asstr.org> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+