Date: Fri, 31 Jan 2003 21:34:07 -0800 (PST)
From: Glinda Goodwitch <gaspar50@yahoo.com>
Subject: Desires of Rebecca Ch. 7

Transcribed by Glinda Goodwitch
 gaspar50@yahoo.com

 The Desires of Rebecca (F/F F/f f/f rom)
 by Olivia Ravensworth


Chapter Seven

I woke, screaming in joy, as the Captain mounted my unconscious body and
without any preliminaries thrust the Tusk of Delight into the depths of my
shameless cunt. There was a brief moment of dryness and a sudden stab of
pain, but embarrassingly soon the petals of the open pink flower of my
womanhood dripped with my eager lubrication. I gasped at the ferocity, the
urgency, of her lovemaking. Her hands gripped my hips possessively as she
lunged again and again between my hastily parted thighs. The sudden assault
should have torn me asunder ... yet it seemed somehow that my wanton flesh
was ready for her, even in sleep. I knew it, wordlessly, deep within-and so
did she.

Hands still bound helplessly behind my back, I writhed in the narrow bed,
naked and sweaty and confused, while the Captain towered above me, barely
awake herself as she impaled me. My mouth opened wide, unthinkingly
imitating my stretched netherlips, and mine eyes rolled back in my head. My
golden hair, tousled and fragrant with sleep, spilled over my bare
shoulders and across the pillows into which I sank I felt unbelievably full
of her demanding love. My clitoris, swollen against the sliding rod of
polished ivory, pulsed insistently.

My stem mistress's sensuous lips smiled crookedly as she possessed me so
intimately, and a rich swath of her glowing red hair swung across her
dreamy green eyes. How I longed to clutch at the high pale breasts which
swayed, stiff-nippled and warm, before me! Those resilient mounds jiggled
beautifully as her shapely hips pumped the swelling Tusk instinctively,
mindlessly into me. Oh, to fondle those soft hemispheres, to tweak their
sensitive pink peaks and pull the crinkled buds into my worshipful mouth My
tongue twitched between the wet concavity of my flushed cheeks.

Yet I was as powerless as any dumb beast. Always before in my lovemaking, I
had prided myself on pleasuring my partner, on rewarding her feminine
passions as only another girl truly can. On the previous night, indeed, I
had excelled in my sensual ministrations, despite my bondage-or perhaps, I
wondered abstractedly, because of it...? A particularly deep lunge of the
delicious curving dildo tore the half-thought from my reeling mind.

Yet now, bound, and pinned helplessly to the bed by the Captain's urgent
thrusts, I could help neither myself or my mistress. All I could offer was
my utter submission ... which perhaps, I began to realize foggily, was all
the better for both of us. I was wildly flattered to be the envy of her
ravenous appetites, and perhaps in that selfless acceptance was my service
to her. Surely it was amusing for my Captain to fuck a pretty young wench
as she did, to pound her into the bed while the girl screamed out her
helpless delight. Surely the sight of my writhing nakedness, the knowledge
that I was there for her alone, would pleasure her just as much as my
nimble fingertips and fluttering tongue.

I could do naught but submit, and accept-willingly, deliriously-the
slippery ivory member we shared between our sweating feminine flesh. My
hips met her thrusts with the knowledge that each lunge of that monstrous
swelling Tusk-and each selfless acceptance into my hungry depths-sealed us
ever tighter How it filled me!

For a moment I could not even remember where I was, so intense was my
pleasure. But then when I did recall the previous night and in whose room I
woke, still I was helpless to silence my cries of delight. In some corner
of my mind still capable of some semblance of thought I knew that the
lustful old seamstress could not fail to hear me. Yet the sensations which
welled up from the liquid pit between my shivering hips were simply
overwhelming. I screamed in ecstasy, caring not who could hear And perhaps,
I imagined, even then Beryl's bony old fingers were swirling through the
slippery flesh of her own pulsing quiet....

Of a sudden, I spied a mirror on the opposite wall behind the captain and
in the image I could see us both in the bed, my captain rutting between my
thighs, her strong hips pistoning up and down, fucking the Tusk deep within
me, my legs askew and kicking wildly with each plunge. I could see her grip
my shoulders, her hair cascading like a veil over my grimacing face as her
wide bottom humped the Tusk into my depths. In the mirror, her bottom
bobbed up and down and with each hump into me, the air would woosh out of
my lungs with a scream, and, not caring if old Beryl or all of London heard
me, I cried, deliriously, for my Captain to fuck me. She complied, her
staccato thrusts becoming quicker and more frenzied as we rushed toward
impending climax.

As I gasped beneath the savage, tender fucking of my beloved, I realized
how powerful was the Captain's love for me, that she would penetrate me,
unthinking, even as I slept. Truly I was her pet, her lover, her
slave... My Captain knew that she could have me any way-any time-that she
liked. It was flattering enough to be the object of this beautiful woman's
lust, but somehow it was doubly flattering that she would fuck me in my
sleep, only half-awake herself.

My young body was the first thing she had reached for that morning, my
smooth white flesh the first thing she craved. I was hers, exposed in my
nakedness-bound and utterly available-and she did not even have to think
about it. For her bounteous passions there were no obstacles, even little
ones. She never had to question my response, never had to think twice about
whether she wanted me.  Truly that was love. As my sudden climax swept
wildly though my spasming flesh, the knowledge was profoundly satisfying. I
tried to keep my heavylidded eyes from sliding completely closed, tried to
keep my gaze upon her fair, cruel face as it softened in the uncontrollable
blisses we shared.

She collapsed breathlessly across me, clinging to my shoulders, her face
buried in my hair. In that tender moment as I felt her warm and soft along
the length of me, felt her high, heavy breasts flatten against mine, I
twisted my neck to cover her blazing cheek and the fuzzy lobe of her ear
with nibbling kisses. Despite her aggressive nature, her impetuous desires,
how delightfully feminine she was at heart! My tongue tip traveled lovingly
over her blood-warmed flesh. She scarce seemed to notice the act, but I
prayed silently that the moment never would end.

At last, panting, the Captain rolled off my palpitating young body. For a
moment the great curving Tusk of Delight projected incongruously up fwni
beneath her belly, a queenly scepter of authority, its warmed shaft shining
with my wanton lubrication. Her sleek flesh seemed to glow with power, both
her natural majesty and that bestowed by her wonderfully perverse wand. If
one were to get fucked-truly fucked-why bother with some useless little
wiggling rod of hairy man-flesh?

If a pussy ached to be filled with more than naughty fingers could give,
surely nothing could be nobler or more pleasing than to be split apart by
such a venerable shaft of clean polished ivory. I watched as the juices
which but a moment before had pooled in the very bottom of my spasming cunt
ran in dripping rivulets down that great curving instrument and into the
red-gold thatch which clothed my Captain's puffy pink labia.

Soon, however, my mistress began unfastening the straps of the Tusk of
Delight. "I needed that," she murmured sleepily, almost to herself. She
removed the Tusk-squelching deliciously-from her own body and laid the
symbol of her authority upon the sheets between us. I smelled the musky
tang of the evidence of her arousal, and of my utter submission. She
dropped drowsily back against the rumpled pillow until her breathing slowed
and the sweaty mounds of her breasts again rose and fell in a quiet, even
rhythm.

I watched silently, my eyelids heavy with pleasure and with some vestige of
sleepiness, as eventually the Captain climbed out of bed. I stared as her
hips pulled those long, shapely legs off the rumpled sheets, giving me a
tantalizingly brief view of gaping wet quim ...my mouth watered.

Still naked and glistening with sweat, she padded regally out of our
room. My impetuous mistress had no need of clothing before me, the willing
slave of her lusts, and though I sensed that she would not walk bare before
old Beryl, friend though she was, I knew that the Captain would need no
clothing just now. With all of the noise I had made, the seamstress would
not dare to be about.

The Captain was gone for a few moments. I could not see through the door to
the entry room from where I lay, and I dared not seem too willful by moving
around. I almost thought I smelled food cooking, but I could not be sure. I
waited.

When the Captain returned, she carried a bucket of wareer which had warmed
by the fire, and, standing before me, she commenced to bathe. I watched her
strong, sensuous hands move over that desirable body, over neck and
shoulders, breasts and belly, lower, lower... Water ran sparkling down the
smooth curves of her pale flesh, trickled through her sopping auburn pubis,
spattered the cold stone floor. Her shapely hips and thighs, her knees and
trim calves-all glistened temptingly. Despite the strength of my spending,
I felt a wicked tingle between my musky thighs. Unthinking, I rubbed my
knees lightly together.

My mistress pursed her lips and smiled coolly down, as if noticing me again
for the first time. "Awake, I see...," she purred, toweling her creamy skin
dry. Her succulent white flesh jiggled as she worked.

Without undue haste she dressed herself before my wide, adoring
eyes. Though blushing, for I knew that she was watching my reaction, I
could not help but stare at those long smooth limbs as her rolling hips
thrust them into her trousers, could not keep my hungry eyes from goggling
longingly at the high firm mounds of her breasts as she slowly,
tantalizingly buttoned up her shirt. And as she watched me, I saw in
naughty delight, the delectable pink meat of her nipples once again began
to pucker up tight and alluring.

"Come," she said finally, almost indulgently. "Tis time to rise." She
slipped a gleaming knife from her pocket. As mine eyes widened in surprise,
she lunged across my naked white buttocks and cut my bonds so quickly that
I had no time to flinch. "There."

"Good morning," I murmured, sitting up and rubbing my wrists. I hung my
feet over the edge of the bed, and at the movement, suddenly I could smell
myself-a salty tang of pure femininity.

"Thou'rt a good fuck, my little Rebecca," the Captain said evenly. I felt
myself blush at her praise, but boldly I stretched my young limbs, as
prettily and coquettishly as I could. She almost smiled at this, and I saw
her nostrils dilate faintly as she whiffed my ripe, wet pussy, that wicked
garden which she herself had slicked.

"Now bathe thyself," she continued softly, "and we may go."

"Yes, Captain," I said. I stood and began to wash in what water she had
left in the bucket It had cooled, but my mistress's appraising eyes were
upon me, and I made certain to take my time. As she watched in silence, I
bathed my high young breasts most thoroughly, cupping and squeezing, my
fingertips now and then brushing the peak of a sensitive nipple. And after
the exertions of the previous night and the morning, it was necessary that
I wash my nether regions most thoroughly....

Slowly I combed the tepid water through the rounded triangle of smelly
blonde curls at the base of my belly. Carefully I pushed cleansing digits
through the slippery pink folds of my velvety cunny, taking time to wipe
away the musky traces of our commingled lubrications. Throughout, I
regarded my Captain slyly out of the corner of mine eye. Finally I dried
myself and looked for my clothing. But my garments had been left in the
outer room the previous night.

"No need," said the Captain quietly. I could see her nipples standing stiff
and full beneath her swelling shirtfront "Come. Beryl will have thy new
outfit ready." So saying, she headed into the other room.

I bit my lip as I watched her hips swing through the doorway, aghast that I
would have to see that wicked old seamstress again. How ever could I face
that woman after what had happened the night before ... and after what she
surely must have heard in the morning? Still, I could not disobey my
mistress. Naked and blushing, I followed her obediently.

"Ah, good morn, good morn," chuckled the bright-eyed old seamstress as we
entered.

Between the time when the Captain had come out for water, apparently, and
the time that we both stepped out of our room,Beryl had set the table with
a lavish breakfast-tea and toast, eggs, even a joint of meat. She must have
been cooking in the back all morning.

My mouth watered, but though the Captain sat immediately, when I began to
pull back a chair for myself, she looked up in surprise. To the old woman
she said, "Dress her first"

"Of course, of course," agreed Beryl, nodding, her blue eyes unblinking on
my pale nude flesh.

As I stood there awkwardly, Beryl bustled into her back room and came out
with a strange tangle of leather and buckles, velvet and lace-mine eyes
widened in surprise, but the Captain ate her meal placidly, her eyes moving
disinterestedly from me to Beryl. She merely watched while the old woman
set the things on a chair and then carefully extracted from the pile of red
and black materials what looked like some sort of harness for an animal.

Yet never had I seen a harness which looked like this ... for what sort of
animal was this odd contraption made? I wondered blankly. What sort of work
would this creature perform? Did I really recognize...?

Beryl smiled and shook out the strange leather harness, holding it up
before my wondering eyes. "In, my lass," she cooed, "in!"

I knew not what to do, but as my Captain looked on I let the older woman
step me into the strange contraption of tanned leather and gleaming brass
buckles. I scarcely understood what was happening as her dry fingers
drifted over my nearly nude body, smoothing down the leather here,
adjusting a strap there, but I gasped as I felt those bony old fingertips
pluck purposefully at the sensitive nubbins of my nipples and then slip
familiarly. across the tender lips of my quim.

"Oh, I'm sorry to startle thou, girl," said the other easily, "but we want
a good fit, now, don't we?"

I looked down in surprise, blushing fiercely. I was wrapped in strips of
leather, but I might just as well have been naked. Between my thighs
nestled two narrow strips of soft leather which parted to cling to my puffy
outer labia. Though my womanhood was in a sense guarded by those supple
strips, there was no closure or fastening. If anything, the wicked garment
served to open up my slick interior more than to protect it from intrusion.

My fingers followed the strips up as they diverged to display the furry
swell of my mount of Venus, then ran parallel up to my breasts. Leather
circled each of those mounds, flat against my chest, as did another circle
halfway to my swollen nipples. Vertical strips and horizontal ones
connected the leather rings, uplifting my creamy handfuls even as they
caged them. My nipples, protruding impudently past the second rings of
leather, were cool and bare.

The main strips then converged as they rose, meeting in a soft leather
collar which encircled my throat. Though this collar was indeed soft and
supple, itseemed to be strong as well ... a fitting symbol of theservitude
in which my beloved mistress held me.

I traced the single length of leather which ran down my narrow back and
disappeared between the cleft of my swelling buttocks, the same piece which
ran stillforward, splitting delicately to hug, and to open, the petals of
my pussy. I dared not reach far enough down explore this, but I sensed it
was so.

lips pursed, I felt the supple leather belt which, connected firmly to the
back strap of this naughty garment, wrapped flatteringly about my waist. As
I drew my curious hands about the belt, I seemed to find another, smaller
pair of straps at the very middle of my back. The buckles were unfastened,
but it seemed that the open rings of leather were about the circumference
of my wrists.

"Well, Captain?" asked Beryl slyly as she arranged my flowing blonde hair
about my rounded young shoulders for best effect "Tis a tempting treat,
eh?"

"Mmm," nodded the Captain judiciously as she chewed and swallowed a bite of
the most succulent beef I had seen in months. She wiped at her mouth and
looked up from the table more carefully, her green eyes searching beneath
those smoky, arched brows. Her gaze swept slowly, thoroughly from my toes
to the tip of my head and back again, making me blush. I could not help but
notice that she seemed to pay great attention to my leather-clad pudenda
and the upthrust mounds of my stiff nippled bosom.

"Yes," she admitted finally, "thou've done a passing fine job." The Captain
drank heartily of her cup, and let it down a trifle unsteadily. Was that
ale? I wondered in disbelief. And so early in the morning-my thoughts were
stopped as she wiped her mouth and continued, "And the outer garments? Is
the fit as good?"

"I should say so!" the older woman replied indignantly.

"Thou knowst my work, and saw how I measured the lass-" She stopped as she
caught the knowing smirk upon the Captain's smooth red lips.

"Yyes," she sputtered, beet-faced,realizing all too well that she was the
butt of the joke, "well, then, see for thyself"

Hurriedly the seamstress gathered up the heaps of glossy black fabric from
the chair. There were no under clothes besides the leather ones, I saw,
little surprised, only a skirt which seemed far too small to be truly
completed, and some sort of close-fitting jacket of red.

Beryl shook out an inadequate handful and stepped me into a flaring skirt
of satinet, glossy black and reach ing only halfway to my naked
knees. Never had I seen any skirt so short and revealing. The shamefully
immodest garment was tight-waisted, accentuating the pleasant swell of my
young hips. Delicate black lace at the swishing hemline would catch the
eyes of any onlooker, while the prominent flare of the skirt seemed
naturally to coax those eyes upward, up my scarcely covered thighs, toward
treasures ill concealed. My very femininity, wrapped as it was in supple
strips of leather still was dangerously unprotected. With but a flip of the
wrists could that soft triangle of golden curls be bared...

As I shivered there, the woman clothed my torso in a close-fitting,
short-sleeved jacket of rich red velvet which left my navel and a tender
inch or so of my abdomen teasingly bare. The fit was flatteringly tight
against my flat young belly and rib cage, hugging my breasts as the garment
rose to a stiff collar which, high though it was, was nevertheless slightly
open at the front to expose a tantalizing glimpse of the soft leather
beneath. That collar was trimmed in black lace, as were the short sleeves
which narrowed from puffy shoulders to leave my softly rounded biceps bare.

For a moment Beryl fiddled with something at the small of my back, almost
as if she were pulling some attachment through a narrow opening. I had
little time to wonder, however, for soon those nimble old fingers began
fastening the double row of gleaming brass buttons which ran up the brief
jacket. She smoothed the garment about my body carefully.

"Notice the fit, Captain," the bright-eyed old seamstress cooed
proudly. "Very trim, very elegant. The buttons add a nice touch, eh? Yet
I've also put in another catch, so they needn't slow thee...." She found
some fastening hidden under a seam, and to my surprise the bosom of the
bright red velvet garment pulled open to reveal the creamy upthrust
handfuls of my naked breasts. The pink-brown nubs of my nipples rose stiff
and alluring, naughtily crinkled between the open flaps of red velvet.

"Yes...," said the Captain slowly, staring absently at those erect buds of
sensitive tissue. She licked her lips as if considering something, her
fingertips rubbing together as she reached for her cup. "Good, Beryl,
good." She nodded slightly. "Now sit, Rebecca. Eat."

"Yes, Captain," I murmured as Beryl covered my chest again, rubbing the
velvet against my firm nipples. Feeling in such gaudy, immodest dress as if
I were on display-and not quite certain as to whether my discomfort or my
arousal were the stronger emotion-I sat across from my mistress. I ate
quickly while she finished her breakfast.

It was delicious. Beryl was apparently as good a cook as she was a
seamstress. Soon my Captain wiped her mouth a last time and rose. I stood
hurriedly as she buckled on her sword and pulled her bulky greatcoat about
her. She began fastening on her flaming red mustachios and beard.

Biting my lip, I looked down at my red velvet top, my shockingly short
black skirt, my bare knees. Surely, I thought, surely in this city of
drunks and lechers the Captain would not make me go out in only these.... I
looked uncertainly to my cloak, and made as if to reach for it-but
stopped. I dared not displease my mistress.

But my fears were misplaced. "Aye, Rebecca," she urged, "hurry thou. 'Tis
time to head for the ship."

"Yes, Captain," I said, and gratefully wrapped the heavy outer garment
about my exposed body.

Her disguise finally in place and her hat pulled low, my protector wrapped
her arm possessively around my slim waist and drew me to the door. "Can't
say when we'll see thee again, Beryl," she said as the old woman opened the
portal on its creaking hinges. "But thou hast served me aright My thanks."

"Oh, Captain," chuckled the ancient seamstress, "'tis nought" She looked me
up and down, quickly, and smiled back at the Captain. "Why, I thank you"

Through the narrow streets of London we hurried. We caught a ride in the
back of a cart driven by a bandy-legged little ironmonger, and we bumped
and creaked our way to Gravesend, my mistress's hand stroking absently at
the naked hip beneath my brief skirt. I was wet within my harness of
leather, and when I shifted my hips to open my thighs, her fingers moved
silently between them. She smiled mockingly into my half-lowered eyes as
she thrust her bunched index and middle finger smoothly up my
embarrassingly wet pussy.

I whimpered happily while she filled me, thumb riding against my throbbing
clitoris. The way was deeply rutted, and the cart jounced unrelentingly-it
was heaven. I climaxed again and again, soaked with sweat as my mistress
gazed possessively upon my rapt visage.

Eventually the old swayback slowed, and we climbed down. The Captain tossed
the man a copper with a negligent wave of thanks as we hastened down the
cobblestones.

Soon over the rooftops I caught a glimpse of swaying mastheads and bright
sailcloth. My breath caught in my throat.

"Aye, my little Rebecca," chuckled the Captain. "Well thou may gasp. See
it? The wide, open sea ... now smell it," she commanded.

I tried, and to my surprise, even through the hodgepodge of city smells, I
could scent the lonely tang of saltwater, the boundless deep which could
carry me away from this smug England. Beneath my cloak, goose pimples stood
up on my arms and the back of my neck.

"Yes," I whispered. "The smell is ... powerful"

Perhaps a virgin queen ruled from her palace, but everywhere else, it
seemed, swaggering males bullied their way about as if there could be no
other opinions, no way of life but their own. If any woman dared to think
another thought, or act a different way-there could be only one mistake,
and that corrected all too soon. Wives were the slaves of their husbands
and masters, yet even maids such as I were at the tyranny of fathers and
brothers, and the conventions of an ever-watchful society.

Why, if in her disguise the Captain were to throw me to the ground here in
broad daylight and fuck me 'til I screamed, none of those coarse men would
do more than laugh and cheer her on. Beneath my cloak I shivered at the
thought of my mistress doing that. Yet if they were to discover that she
herself was a woman, a shrieking mob would tear us to bloody ribbons.

It was all terribly clear to me, as it had been growing for months. For me
there could be no more happiness in this narrow spit of green I once
thought was my land. From now on, I realized, only the bosom of the sea
could be my home. I breathed deep of the briny scent.

"It smells of freedom," the Captain intoned. I looked up quickly to see if
she mocked me, but her elegant face, masked though it was in that brutish
beard, seemed solemn. "On the sea," she declared, "there are no borders, no
countries. No rule of strutting kings or queens and venerated Parliament,
courts and sheriffs. In the wild there are no laws but the natural ones by
which all creatures live, unthinking. Aboard my ship, the only law is mine
own desire, whate'er that may be."

 She winked down at me, and I found myself blushing. "What we need, we
take-from the sea, and from preying, as might a traveler in a great forest"
She shook her head. "Truly, Rebecca, I come ashore most reluctantly."

Through a tangle of cobblestone alleys we slipped, past hawkers and
fishwives, dandies and errand boys, burly men who carried bales and boxes
and chivied ponies and trundled barrels. We emerged at the mouth of the
Thames, among so many hulking males that for a moment I broke stride. Yet
the Captain hustled me onward with a confident swagger, sword jouncing at
her shapely hip. Once a grimy workman stepped into her path, and she
unleashed such a deep-voiced string of oaths at the man that my ears
burned. Yet I could not help but notice that though the face reddened in
sodden anger, he jumped back at the sight of my formidable mistress.

As we walked on I found myself smiling faintly. That male fool thought he
had been bested by another hairy beast ... but what if he could have known
it was a woman? Seeing my commanding mistress for what she was, would he
have acknowledged the equality-or even superiority-of the feminine half of
the race? Or would he have needed to be skewered upon her blade? Exulting,
I wished we could go back and rub his whiskered face of the brute in his
inferiority. Well, I thought, perhaps simply mine own satisfaction was
almost as jolly.

The port was a wild bazaar where the ships and goods-and coin-of all
corners of the earth met. So many vessels rode at anchor that surely I
never could have picked out any particular one, but soon the Captain
grinned fiercely, and her pace quickened. "Home," she whispered.

I followed her gaze to an ordinary-looking bark being rigged for sail. Yet
as I looked closer, I could see that the figures swarming so confidently
across the deck and upon the high rigging were women. Though their hair was
tucked away so as not to draw too much attention, now and then I caught a
glimpse of a distinctly feminine face beneath a stained bandanna. Many
there were who, from a distance, at first did seem to be masculine, but as
I kept watching I realized that all were indeed women ... like
ourselves. My pulse beat heavily within my chest.

I turned mine eyes to the finely carved and painted oaken figurehead. There
below the bowsprit arched the clean shape of a nude maiden, fair of face,
with flowing dark hair streaming back across her naked shoulders. She
thrust out one arm searchingly before her while the other hand swept back
along her shapely hip. The breasts of the handsome statue were high and
firm, with just enough bounce to them, and even from where I stood I could
glimpse the firm peaks of her nipples. Those cunningly formed mounds-mere
wood yet seemingly as elastic as any flesh-cried out to be cupped and
fondled. The artisan who had carved this was a woman, I realized suddenly
with a little thrill of feminine pride. The hands which had crafted this
most fitting figurehead for my mistress's ship, I could tell, were indeed
most familiar with her subject.

I let mine eyes run down the lifelike sculpture's flat abdomen to the
fur-scratched swell of her mons, which just protruded from the fierce waves
licking about her lower body. I admired the attention to detail, the
careful paintwork on that tangled triangle of hair the highlights upon the
swirling foam. Yet as I examined more closely the place where the carving
met the bow of the ship I realized that those cresting wavelets bored also
like the many fingers and rounded forearms of other maids reaching
caressingly up out of the restless sea... I shivered.

I read the name of the ship. "Sappho?" I asked the Captain blankly.

"A talented poetess of ancient Greece," she smiled slyly. "Her verses,
unfortunately, as of yet are not adequately read by the country gentry."

Nodding faintly, I let the matter drop. The ship seemed an able one, sturdy
and in good repair. Along gunwales was a long row of squarish doors hanging
down from hinges, ports which I imagined must cover the heavy muzzles of
great cannon. I shook my head wonderingly-to think that in such a short
span of time I had come from being outcast, a helpless little wench
cowering before male society, to joining this crew of capable females,
buccaneers who roamed the seven seas.

My heart pounded with pride as the Captain led me up the gangplank of her
corsair, the Sappho. This fierce ship would be my new home, I knew, and I
let my gaze swing all about. Aromatic teak rolled faintly beneath my feet,
while above rose the towering masts with their wild tangle of
rigging. Already wenches swarmed aloft, making ready the sails.

Another woman hurried up to greet the Captain. She was a tall and
rough-looking brunette, with enough little lines beginning to grow about
her face to suggest that the was close to forty. Her visage was still fair
for someone of her age, but she had a cruel set to her jaw. Her eyes
gleamed like dark iron beneath the furrows of her brow as she turned to
look me over dubiously. Somehow she almost seemed familiar to me-and
suddenly I wondered if she could have been one of the Captain's companions
the previous evening back at the tavern below Mother Curry's.

"Smith," said the Captain firmly, "this is Rebecca. She'll be sailing with
us."

"Aye, Captain," nodded the other slowly. "Aye. As thou likest" She thought
about it for a moment, then continued, "The good Sappho is as loaded as she
can be, her sleek belly full of hardtack and salt pork, scuttlebutts
o'erflowing with freshwater-"

"And drink?" interjected the Captain.

"Of course, Captain," smiled her lieutenant, "enough stout hogsheads to see
us through, I'll warrant"

"Powder?"

"Aye," said the other. "We've swords enough captured on the last voyage,
thanks to that Portuguese, and powder, too-yet I've also Went the liberty
of ordering a few more casks brought aboard anyway." She grinned darkly.

"Good," said our Captain. "Good." She studied a list the other woman gave
her and nodded in satisfaction. She looked to the rising sun, and cocked
her ear at the wind. "Then let us away, Smith," she said with a playful
leer "The West Indies await us."

"Indeed, Captain, indeed!" laughed the other. She turned away and began
shouting orders.


Chapter 8 soon to come...

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