Monday, October 24, 2005


A Pirate Tale – Part 113 "Sexual Congress"

Warning: This installment contains graphic descriptions of sexual behavior. If you are offended by such descriptions, skip this installment. You probably won’t be missing anything anyway – just stuff that happens at the brothel. You know … nudge, nudge …and such. Of course, your friends at the water cooler will be talking about this one. “Can you believe they wrote that!?” they’ll say with dumbfounded astonishment. Then, temptation will get the better of you and you’ll be back to read – even after I’ve warned ye. Oh, yes. You WILL read!

“Fine! Have it your way! Blow yer doubloons on dicing when you could be doing ‘the bouncy-bouncy’ with any number of wenches of slightly tarnished virtue …” Sawbones hit the second syllable of “vir-tue” as he entered the doorway of The Wonder Wenches Whoopee Parlor and Whistle-Wetter the oldest and most famous brothel in all of Jamaica. The timing was met with the pal of silence.

The word, “virtue” hung in the air like a rotting corpse in a gibbet.

“Why Cap’n Slappy and friends, what excellent timing you have!” Madame Svetlana Petrokiov greeted the pack of pirates as if they were royalty. They had, in fact, just interrupted the madam’s weekly lecture on temperance and virtue delivered with a mix of feigned sympathy and righteous indignation by Lady Agnes Toffybottom and her friend, Prudence Feversham. Upon hearing the doctor speak of “virtue,” Lady Agnes seized her cue, “Gentleman!” she declared, “You shall find no virtue within these walls!”

Without missing a beat, Cap’n Slappy shot back, “I shall take that as a money-back guarantee!” With quick, manly movements, he hoisted Lady Agnes up as if she were a blushing bride and slung her like a sack of potatoes to Black Butch who headed off to “The Basket Room” to have his way with her. Slappy quickly moved on to Prudence Feversham and sweeping her off her feet in a similar manner, flung her into the waiting arms of Two Patch, who, although he had the visual acuity of a near-sighted mole, managed to catch the lady and carry her off to “The Dark Den.” Their initial screams of protestation quickly shifted to groans of pleasure – and ultimately to bossy directions of what they wanted the boys to do next.

Madame Svetlana grabbed Cap’n Slappy’s head with both hands and kissed his cheeks in gratitude and finished with a deep lingering kiss on his lips. She turned to the scantily clad girls behind her, “Just when I thought I would die of Puritan Poisoning, my hero comes to save me!” Madame Svetlana’s deep voice resonated with the accent of her Russian homeland. It was rumored that she had been a countess or even the daughter of the Czar – but these were only rumors and the madam was not loosening her grip on any of her tightly-held secrets.

“I see you brought your doctor and your ‘Dogwatch’ young man – but who is the boy?” Madame Svetlana asked Slappy – who hadn’t noticed that young Spencer had come along under Dogwatch’s wing.
“What the hell are you doin’ here, lad?” Slappy asked Spencer rather crossly. The boy froze up, but Dogwatch spoke for him.

“He’s here for the same reason you and I are, Cap’n.”

“But he’s just a boy!” Cap’n Slappy exclaimed.

“He’s eighteen, Cap’n!” Dogwatch protested with a quick elbow into Spencer’s arm, “Aren’t you eighteen?”

Spencer nodded.

“He’s sixteen if he’s a day!” Slappy argued.

“Aye!” Dogwatch shot back. “The same age I was when you first brought me here!”

Slappy looked first at Doc Burgess, then to Madame Svetlana for help. Finding none, Madame Svetlana smiled and said softly, “Mahren, would you take Mister Spencer to The Fireside Room?”

Mahren made her way through the wall of scantily clad women. She was young. Not as young as Young Spencer, but young – perhaps nineteen. She was dressed in a French maid’s outfit. At first, Slappy thought she was one of the house staff. She looked too … inexperienced … to be working as one of Madame Svetlana’s girls.

Her light brown hair was the same color as Young Spencer’s and it shaped her girlish face nicely. Her eyes were large and sea green. Her lips were full but not cartoonishly so. Her body, while small, was very athletic in composition. Her muscular legs could easily be seen through her fishnet stockings. She made no eye contact until she walked up to Spencer and extended her hand. He hesitated, but a shoulder nudge from Dogwatch broke him out of his trance. He took Mahren’s hand and she led him down the hall until the two of them disappeared into another corridor.

Sawbones found his “regular,” Bessie – a tall Swedish woman. Older than most of the other girls, but he liked that about her. She had studied anthropology at the University of Stockholm and had come to Jamaica to study the indigenous people of the Caribbean. Not being confined by the sexual morals of Western European culture had been a freeing experience for her and she used this new-found freedom to supplement her monthly income. “She does that sexual voodoo stuff that keeps me comin’ back for more!” The good doctor confessed.

Having accomplished his goal of getting Young Spencer through the doorway to manhood, Dogwatch was now ready to reward himself, “I’ll take you, and you and you!” he pointed to the three most beautiful women in the crowd and they giggled and scampered over to his side. The fourth most beautiful stamped her foot and scowled in abject disappointment. “Oh, alright! I’m feeling rather energetic this evening – you may come along, but you’ll have to keep those two busy while I start with this one.” The five of them formed a cloud of hands and arms and bodies intertwined as they wandered down the hall toward a room called, “The Snake Pit.”

Cap’n Slappy turned toward Madame Svetlana and popped his eyebrows up and down. “So, at last, we are alone.” He added a tiger-like growl to his observation which, however, was false. Rather than being alone, they were in a parlor that still held at least forty women – not including The Madame herself.

Madame Svetlana wagged her finger in a forbidding manner back and forth in Slappy’s face while she made the “tch-tch” sound behind her beautifully pursed lips. “Oh, Slappy!” she groaned sympathetically, “You always want whatever it is you can’t have.”

“Those are always the best things.” Slappy shot back, still trying to put on his sexiest moves.

Madame Svetlana sighed and smiled. “Would you like to join me in sexual congress?” Her tone was conspiratorial – as if she had been hiding this surprise from him all evening.

Slappy’s eyes widened. “Do you mean it? Are you ready?” He could barely contain his excitement.

“Oh, yes. Cap’n Slappy. And it will be everything you ever dreamed it would be. All things are prepared – so long as you have our agreed-upon price.”

Slappy didn’t have to think twice or even search for the money. He had kept the correct sum in a purple velvet bag that had hung from his belt since the night he and Madame Svetlana had discussed the possibility of a “sexual congress.” During battles and dark times, his fingers found comfort in fondling the bag as a reminder that there were still joys to be had and things that needed doing.

As he pulled the bag off his belt and handed it to Madame Svetlana, she signaled to the girls who cheered and ran down a secret corridor. “They are going to prepare themselves. They’ve been working very hard at this because they do not wish to disappoint you, Cap’n Slappy.”

“I’m sure they will do just fine.” Slappy said, barely containing his excitement. He had so many questions, but didn’t want to spoil the surprise. Madame Svetlana invited him to sit with her in the parlor. After a couple of moments of awkward silence she asked, “So, how is your brother – the admiral?”

Down the hall, Mahren had drawn a hot bath and had lit candles all over The Fireside Room. A roaring fire from the fireplace further illuminated the area in a warm glow. “This is your first time, isn’t it?” Mahren asked.

“Yes.” Spencer’s mouth was dry, he could hardly get the word out.
Mahren gave him a sip of rum in orange juice. “Let’s get you out of these.” She said as she tugged gently at his clothes. She moved slowly and deliberately – trying not to fright the boy. As she opened his britches, he gasped. She reached down the front of his pants and felt that everything was where it should be and in good working order.

Spencer began to shudder. He held her body close to his and pressed his cheek next to hers. Mahren caressed him and coaxed out his first orgasmic coming of age moment. “Breathe.” She whispered into his ear. “Breathe, Sweetheart.”

“Oh, my god!” Spencer gasped. “Dear god! What was that?” He tried to catch his breath.

“That was nature, Sweetheart.” Mahren whispered as she withdrew her hand and wiped off her arm.

“I’m so sorry!” Spencer said. “What did I do to you?”

“Let’s get you in the bath and I will explain all.” She lead him naked to the tub and helped him in. She soaped up a rag and began washing his body. He visibly relaxed under her cleansing touch.

After several minutes Mahren had thoroughly bathed the young man. “You know,” she observed, “this is a big tub – there’s plenty of room for two of us in there.” Spencer smiled as she slipped gracefully out of her French Maid costume. He had never seen a woman naked before and to his eyes, this was the most beautiful thing he had, or would ever see. Strong yet soft, her curves and her pink skin drew him in. As she stepped into the tub all he could think of was her softness and her smell. Sweet musk.

She positioned herself over him and lowered herself on top of his re-erect manhood. With the help of her guiding hand, he was soon inside her. Excitement coursed through his veins like electricity. “Shhh.” She whispered. His eyes fixed on hers. “I love you, ma’am.” He ejaculated from his mouth. “Shhh.” She repeated, then continued. “We usually don’t kiss on the mouth, so don’t expect it next time you’re with a girl in a brothel, but this time is special. Just relax.” As she spoke, she lowered her lips to meet his. Spencer had as little experience kissing as he had with anything else. She showed him by example how to give and take at kissing and he learned quickly.

Soon, their bodies were once again moving – eyes still fixed on each other. Spencer knew, “I love you,” had been a mistake – but he wanted to say something … to tell her something to let her know how much he felt for her. “I wish we could stay here forever.” Was the best he could come up with. Tears welled up in Mahren’s eyes and one rolled off her cheek and splashed onto Spencer’s. “Me too.” She repeated, “Me too.”

Back in the parlor, one of the girls who was now dressed like an parliamentary attendant invited Madame Svetlana and Cap’n Slappy to “the floor,” where they were just in time for “the debates.” Slappy was shown to his “Speaker’s” chair while Madame Svetlana sat to his immediate right. The room was an amphitheater and the tables around the room were dedicated to the “representatives” who were played by the girls. But rather than states, counties or provinces, they each represented a sexual act which they would demonstrate during each “debate.”

Sexual Congress!” Madame Svetlana declared, “Oh! Cap’n Slappy! You and your love of democracy!” She looked over to see that he had already donned his white wig of state.

“Shhh.” Slappy replied with giddily feigned crossness, “I’m hearing the debate between Doggy-Style and The Sixty-Niner.”

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