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Barbary Coast
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windar
Teller of Tales
26. Ship’s log of Captain Karim Assaraf. Rabi Al-Awwal 30, 1218
In the name of Allah, the Most Beneficent, the Most Merciful, who has brought me through the many trials and tribulations in the Court of the Ottomans to within sight of the shores of Tripoli, which I had every reason to think I would never see again. The Prophet has truly showered his Blessings upon my humble person.
It was but a week ago that I lay in that cell in the dungeon beneath the Topkapi Palace in Islambol with Barbara and Mary, naked as we had lain in my cabin, but not in the same happy spirit as we had enjoyed on my ship. For we awaited the morning and our execution at the orders of the Sehzade. And, almost as bad, Barbara blamed me for her predicament, perhaps not without some justification, though my intentions had been good. Moreover, it seemed that the Sehzade, who had deflowered her where I had foresworn that pleasure, had charms that a simple pirate could not match, and my affections were not returned.
In our folk tales, when the hero suffers to win the lady, she appreciates that. But perhaps in English tales that is not so, for despite my sufferings, Barbara turned her back on me that night (and a lovely back it is). And suffered I had, mightily- first stripped naked in front of a bunch of important Ottomans, including the Sehzade and the Captain of the Palace Janissaries.
Then, lashed to a wheel and almost drowned in foul water that probably contained the excrement of half of Islambol. We sailors fear water above all else, because most of us live knowing that every sea voyage may be our last and I trembled in terror as I looked down between my legs at that horrible trough into which I would be submerged by the turning of the wheel.
It was small comfort when they brought Barbara and Mary and that French girl into the chamber and chained Barbara to me, our naked bodies pressed tightly together. But this did not please the Lady, not at all, for she was angry at me. When they submerged us, we were forced to struggle, our naked limbs pushing against each other, in a fruitless attempt to bring our heads above water. I thought it was the end, that I would join my father in Paradise, but finally they turned the wheel and brought us above the water, coughing and sputtering.
Then they made the French girl drink the potion I had given Mary. I expected that she would fall into a restful sleep, but she began foaming at the mouth and was dead moments later. Someone had substituted poison for the sleeping potion I had gotten from the apothecary, but who? These devious Turks were not like we simple Barbary pirates and I could not begin to imagine the plotting that could go on in this wicked city.
Twice more they submerged me and Barbara, each time pulling us out just before death took us. But the reprieve was only temporary, for the Sehzade had ordered us executed in the morning. And here we sat awaiting that fate.
I craved a last night of pleasure and would have happily shared the delights of both Barbara and Mary, but Barbara was adamant in her refusal. Mary, however, was quite happy to enjoy a final night of passion, so we fucked twice, while Barbara tried to ignore us (though I cannot swear she did not watch at least a little).
I slept fitfully, waking in the morning-at least I thought it was morning, though in the dungeon deep under the Palace, there was neither day nor night-when the guards brought us what would be our last repast. I did not quite understand why they would waste food on those they were about to execute, but I supposed it was one of those customs that separated civilized people like the Ottomans from barbarians such as myself.
I ate, more to pass the time than out of real hunger, as did Mary. Despite our coaxing, Barb abstained, stubborn to the end. Then there was more waiting; perhaps it was another civilized custom to make of execution a ceremony, not like the impulsive acts we pirates were used to.
What does one think about while waiting to have one’s head removed? I thought about the streets of my beloved Rabat where I had played as a child, my father whom I would soon be seeing in Paradise, I hoped, my brother Tarik and how I hoped he would carry on the family business. I thought also about the children I might have had with Mary, how beautiful they would have been and maybe those I might have had with Barbara as well had Allah granted me that favor.
But all too soon, the waiting came to an end. The door of the cell swung open and a party of several eunuchs and Palace guards entered. They quickly chained the three of us together at the ankles, completely naked as we had been throughout our ordeals in the dungeon, and shackled our hands behind our backs.
They marched us up the stairs, along a corridor and into a courtyard. The harsh late morning light blinded my eyes after so long in darkness such that I could not see if they meant to behead us right there. But apparently they had other plans, for they led us through an iron gate in a thick stone wall and out into the great city.
We passed through many unfamiliar streets, crowded with people going about their business. They gawked at us, pointing and shouting things in various foreign tongues. I now understood how our slaves must have felt as we led them, naked as we were now, through the streets of Tripoli. Poor Barbara and Mary were wincing with each step, as their feet had been brutally caned, and the contact with the hot cobblestones was causing them great distress. Fortunately, I had been spared that.
In the distance, I could hear the expectant murmuring of a large crowd of people, which grew louder as we made our way towards them. Finally, we emerged from the narrow streets into a large square with a mosque at the far end, packed with people who all seemed to turn as one to look at us. I heard someone shout in Arabic, “There they are, the filthy scum who tried to kill the Sehzade!” I was sweating from fear and the heat of the brilliant noonday sun, the salty liquid stinging my eyes. Barbara and Mary were sweating too.
Soldiers pushed the crowd back, making a path for us towards the center of the square, where there was a raised wooden platform on which stood the Sehzade, smiling broadly, with the Black Eunuch and several other eunuchs by his side. A short distance away, stood three other eunuchs, each holding a vicious looking scimitar. I supposed those would be what would sever our heads from the rest of us.
Our guards pushed us up the steps onto the platform. They unshackled us and moved each of us to stand in front of one of the executioners, I in the center, Barbara to my left and Mary to my right. In front of each of us was a pole, sharpened at the end, upon which our severed heads would be displayed to the braying crowd, left there to rot in the fearsome heat of the Turkish summer, doubtless fodder for crows, rats and other vermin.
The Sehzade made a short speech. It was in Turkish so I could not understand the words, but I imagined it was a warning that all those who plotted against him would pay a steep price. As soon as he was done, they forced us to kneel. I took a last look at Barbara and Mary. We would die together as we had lived together, however briefly. I said a prayer beseeching Allah to welcome my soul into Paradise then I closed my eyes to await the sword.
Then, suddenly, there was a commotion. Kemal, the Janissary Captain was on the platform having words with the Sehzade. He was waving a scroll in front of the Sehzade, who looked very displeased. I felt strong hands taking hold of each arm, standing me up and I could see Barbara and Mary each standing as I was between two Janissaries.
“What is going on?” Barbara asked Kemal in English.
“Be quiet and come with me. Hurry!” he shouted. I could hear the crowd hollering as the Janissaries led us down the stairs and helped each of us mount a horse, still naked. Kemal jumped on his horse and led the way through the stunned crowd, breaking into a fast trot as soon as we left the square, forcing bystanders to scurry out of the way. The noise was deafening.
We rode as fast as the horses could go down to the port and out onto the pier where my ship lay at anchor. Never had I been so happy to see my ship, which I had been certain I would never see again.
Kemal dismounted and signaled to us to do the same. “What is going on?” I asked him, puzzled. This was so strange that I couldn’t be certain that I had not indeed had my head removed and was dreaming all this as I awaited my entry into the hereafter.
But Kemal sounded very real as he replied curtly, “The Sultan himself has pardoned you. Matters of state about which I cannot say more. Get on your ship and go and do not return. If you ever are ever found in Istanbul or anywhere we Ottomans rule again, you will be beheaded and there will be no reprieve. Is that clear?”
I nodded and moved to shake his hand, but he waved me off, pointing at my ship. I hustled Barbara and Mary aboard under the stunned gazes of my crew. “Rafiq! Cast off immediately and make for Tripoli!” I ordered, taking the women to my cabin, where I rooted around for some clothes. I managed to find the clothes the women had worn when we had captured them, which they were happy to put on.
For myself, I donned Steele’s old uniform. “Don’t he look handsome?” Mary said. Barbara looked disgusted.
And that was how things proceeded for the first few days of the voyage. Mary and I took up where we had left off, for she was the forgiving sort and didn’t hold my stupid plot against me. Barbara ignored us. I guess when you have had the Sehzade of the Ottoman Empire, the charms of a poor Moroccan pirate hold little attraction.
But on the third night, as Mary and I snuggled in my bunk, Barbara looked over from her place at the farthest end of the cabin. Perhaps it was boredom, perhaps it was gratitude for my having risked my life to rescue her from slavery, or perhaps it was sheer lust, but she asked “What are you two doing?”
“Nothing,” I replied, which was the truth at that moment.
“Would you mind if I joined you in there?” she asked.
She sounded a bit plaintive and it would have been unkind to say no to a Lady, so Mary and I moved over and made room for her. And in that spirit of kindness and love, I suggested that it would be nice for old time’s sake if Mary would help out her former mistress, which the maid was only too eager to do, kneeling between the Lady Barbara’s thighs, and licking her in that special place.
I watched for a while, growing hard from Barbara’s moans of pleasure, so I knelt behind Mary and entered her from behind as she continued her ministrations. But soon I decided that I must have what I had so long denied myself. I gently moved Mary out of the way and positioned myself so that my erection lay at the door of Lady Barbara’s vagina. Gently, but firmly, I pushed my way inside, feeling her gripping me tightly.
“Karim,” she breathed. I had longed to hear nothing else. I moved slowly inside her, my lust rising as she pushed back against me. Knowing how long we had waited, Mary let us enjoy each other’s bodies to the fullest, lying back against planks of the ship, pleasuring herself as we fucked. Finally, I could hold back no longer. I moaned and emptied myself into Barbara as she shuddered with pleasure.
And so we passed the rest of the voyage to Tripoli, where we planned to take on supplies for the remainder of the journey to Rabat. As we approached the shores of that city, I noticed several ships which flew that flag of the new Republic on the other side of the Atlantic, the flag with the stars and stripes. I was not worried-the Yankees paid us tribute and we left them alone. “This must be a courtesy call,” I thought. Now that I have finished this entry, we shall approach and greet our American friends.
In the name of Allah, the Most Beneficent, the Most Merciful, who has brought me through the many trials and tribulations in the Court of the Ottomans to within sight of the shores of Tripoli, which I had every reason to think I would never see again. The Prophet has truly showered his Blessings upon my humble person.
It was but a week ago that I lay in that cell in the dungeon beneath the Topkapi Palace in Islambol with Barbara and Mary, naked as we had lain in my cabin, but not in the same happy spirit as we had enjoyed on my ship. For we awaited the morning and our execution at the orders of the Sehzade. And, almost as bad, Barbara blamed me for her predicament, perhaps not without some justification, though my intentions had been good. Moreover, it seemed that the Sehzade, who had deflowered her where I had foresworn that pleasure, had charms that a simple pirate could not match, and my affections were not returned.
In our folk tales, when the hero suffers to win the lady, she appreciates that. But perhaps in English tales that is not so, for despite my sufferings, Barbara turned her back on me that night (and a lovely back it is). And suffered I had, mightily- first stripped naked in front of a bunch of important Ottomans, including the Sehzade and the Captain of the Palace Janissaries.
Then, lashed to a wheel and almost drowned in foul water that probably contained the excrement of half of Islambol. We sailors fear water above all else, because most of us live knowing that every sea voyage may be our last and I trembled in terror as I looked down between my legs at that horrible trough into which I would be submerged by the turning of the wheel.
It was small comfort when they brought Barbara and Mary and that French girl into the chamber and chained Barbara to me, our naked bodies pressed tightly together. But this did not please the Lady, not at all, for she was angry at me. When they submerged us, we were forced to struggle, our naked limbs pushing against each other, in a fruitless attempt to bring our heads above water. I thought it was the end, that I would join my father in Paradise, but finally they turned the wheel and brought us above the water, coughing and sputtering.
Then they made the French girl drink the potion I had given Mary. I expected that she would fall into a restful sleep, but she began foaming at the mouth and was dead moments later. Someone had substituted poison for the sleeping potion I had gotten from the apothecary, but who? These devious Turks were not like we simple Barbary pirates and I could not begin to imagine the plotting that could go on in this wicked city.
Twice more they submerged me and Barbara, each time pulling us out just before death took us. But the reprieve was only temporary, for the Sehzade had ordered us executed in the morning. And here we sat awaiting that fate.
I craved a last night of pleasure and would have happily shared the delights of both Barbara and Mary, but Barbara was adamant in her refusal. Mary, however, was quite happy to enjoy a final night of passion, so we fucked twice, while Barbara tried to ignore us (though I cannot swear she did not watch at least a little).
I slept fitfully, waking in the morning-at least I thought it was morning, though in the dungeon deep under the Palace, there was neither day nor night-when the guards brought us what would be our last repast. I did not quite understand why they would waste food on those they were about to execute, but I supposed it was one of those customs that separated civilized people like the Ottomans from barbarians such as myself.
I ate, more to pass the time than out of real hunger, as did Mary. Despite our coaxing, Barb abstained, stubborn to the end. Then there was more waiting; perhaps it was another civilized custom to make of execution a ceremony, not like the impulsive acts we pirates were used to.
What does one think about while waiting to have one’s head removed? I thought about the streets of my beloved Rabat where I had played as a child, my father whom I would soon be seeing in Paradise, I hoped, my brother Tarik and how I hoped he would carry on the family business. I thought also about the children I might have had with Mary, how beautiful they would have been and maybe those I might have had with Barbara as well had Allah granted me that favor.
But all too soon, the waiting came to an end. The door of the cell swung open and a party of several eunuchs and Palace guards entered. They quickly chained the three of us together at the ankles, completely naked as we had been throughout our ordeals in the dungeon, and shackled our hands behind our backs.
They marched us up the stairs, along a corridor and into a courtyard. The harsh late morning light blinded my eyes after so long in darkness such that I could not see if they meant to behead us right there. But apparently they had other plans, for they led us through an iron gate in a thick stone wall and out into the great city.
We passed through many unfamiliar streets, crowded with people going about their business. They gawked at us, pointing and shouting things in various foreign tongues. I now understood how our slaves must have felt as we led them, naked as we were now, through the streets of Tripoli. Poor Barbara and Mary were wincing with each step, as their feet had been brutally caned, and the contact with the hot cobblestones was causing them great distress. Fortunately, I had been spared that.
In the distance, I could hear the expectant murmuring of a large crowd of people, which grew louder as we made our way towards them. Finally, we emerged from the narrow streets into a large square with a mosque at the far end, packed with people who all seemed to turn as one to look at us. I heard someone shout in Arabic, “There they are, the filthy scum who tried to kill the Sehzade!” I was sweating from fear and the heat of the brilliant noonday sun, the salty liquid stinging my eyes. Barbara and Mary were sweating too.
Soldiers pushed the crowd back, making a path for us towards the center of the square, where there was a raised wooden platform on which stood the Sehzade, smiling broadly, with the Black Eunuch and several other eunuchs by his side. A short distance away, stood three other eunuchs, each holding a vicious looking scimitar. I supposed those would be what would sever our heads from the rest of us.
Our guards pushed us up the steps onto the platform. They unshackled us and moved each of us to stand in front of one of the executioners, I in the center, Barbara to my left and Mary to my right. In front of each of us was a pole, sharpened at the end, upon which our severed heads would be displayed to the braying crowd, left there to rot in the fearsome heat of the Turkish summer, doubtless fodder for crows, rats and other vermin.
The Sehzade made a short speech. It was in Turkish so I could not understand the words, but I imagined it was a warning that all those who plotted against him would pay a steep price. As soon as he was done, they forced us to kneel. I took a last look at Barbara and Mary. We would die together as we had lived together, however briefly. I said a prayer beseeching Allah to welcome my soul into Paradise then I closed my eyes to await the sword.
Then, suddenly, there was a commotion. Kemal, the Janissary Captain was on the platform having words with the Sehzade. He was waving a scroll in front of the Sehzade, who looked very displeased. I felt strong hands taking hold of each arm, standing me up and I could see Barbara and Mary each standing as I was between two Janissaries.
“What is going on?” Barbara asked Kemal in English.
“Be quiet and come with me. Hurry!” he shouted. I could hear the crowd hollering as the Janissaries led us down the stairs and helped each of us mount a horse, still naked. Kemal jumped on his horse and led the way through the stunned crowd, breaking into a fast trot as soon as we left the square, forcing bystanders to scurry out of the way. The noise was deafening.
We rode as fast as the horses could go down to the port and out onto the pier where my ship lay at anchor. Never had I been so happy to see my ship, which I had been certain I would never see again.
Kemal dismounted and signaled to us to do the same. “What is going on?” I asked him, puzzled. This was so strange that I couldn’t be certain that I had not indeed had my head removed and was dreaming all this as I awaited my entry into the hereafter.
But Kemal sounded very real as he replied curtly, “The Sultan himself has pardoned you. Matters of state about which I cannot say more. Get on your ship and go and do not return. If you ever are ever found in Istanbul or anywhere we Ottomans rule again, you will be beheaded and there will be no reprieve. Is that clear?”
I nodded and moved to shake his hand, but he waved me off, pointing at my ship. I hustled Barbara and Mary aboard under the stunned gazes of my crew. “Rafiq! Cast off immediately and make for Tripoli!” I ordered, taking the women to my cabin, where I rooted around for some clothes. I managed to find the clothes the women had worn when we had captured them, which they were happy to put on.
For myself, I donned Steele’s old uniform. “Don’t he look handsome?” Mary said. Barbara looked disgusted.
And that was how things proceeded for the first few days of the voyage. Mary and I took up where we had left off, for she was the forgiving sort and didn’t hold my stupid plot against me. Barbara ignored us. I guess when you have had the Sehzade of the Ottoman Empire, the charms of a poor Moroccan pirate hold little attraction.
But on the third night, as Mary and I snuggled in my bunk, Barbara looked over from her place at the farthest end of the cabin. Perhaps it was boredom, perhaps it was gratitude for my having risked my life to rescue her from slavery, or perhaps it was sheer lust, but she asked “What are you two doing?”
“Nothing,” I replied, which was the truth at that moment.
“Would you mind if I joined you in there?” she asked.
She sounded a bit plaintive and it would have been unkind to say no to a Lady, so Mary and I moved over and made room for her. And in that spirit of kindness and love, I suggested that it would be nice for old time’s sake if Mary would help out her former mistress, which the maid was only too eager to do, kneeling between the Lady Barbara’s thighs, and licking her in that special place.
I watched for a while, growing hard from Barbara’s moans of pleasure, so I knelt behind Mary and entered her from behind as she continued her ministrations. But soon I decided that I must have what I had so long denied myself. I gently moved Mary out of the way and positioned myself so that my erection lay at the door of Lady Barbara’s vagina. Gently, but firmly, I pushed my way inside, feeling her gripping me tightly.
“Karim,” she breathed. I had longed to hear nothing else. I moved slowly inside her, my lust rising as she pushed back against me. Knowing how long we had waited, Mary let us enjoy each other’s bodies to the fullest, lying back against planks of the ship, pleasuring herself as we fucked. Finally, I could hold back no longer. I moaned and emptied myself into Barbara as she shuddered with pleasure.
And so we passed the rest of the voyage to Tripoli, where we planned to take on supplies for the remainder of the journey to Rabat. As we approached the shores of that city, I noticed several ships which flew that flag of the new Republic on the other side of the Atlantic, the flag with the stars and stripes. I was not worried-the Yankees paid us tribute and we left them alone. “This must be a courtesy call,” I thought. Now that I have finished this entry, we shall approach and greet our American friends.
windar
Teller of Tales
And that, dear readers, is where our story ends. Barb will be along with an Epilog that will have some final twists in the lives of our characters.
It's been great fun to write with Barb and to work with Madi on his wonderful illustrations. I learned a lot-some history of the Ottoman Empire, the Islamic calendar, how to say twenty in Turkish. I hope you enjoyed the journey as much as I did.
It's been great fun to write with Barb and to work with Madi on his wonderful illustrations. I learned a lot-some history of the Ottoman Empire, the Islamic calendar, how to say twenty in Turkish. I hope you enjoyed the journey as much as I did.
But on the third night, as Mary and I snuggled in my bunk, Barbara looked over from her place at the farthest end of the cabin. Perhaps it was boredom, perhaps it was gratitude for my having risked my life to rescue her from slavery, or perhaps it was sheer lust, but she asked “What are you two doing?”
Three people, three nights, three possible motives: boredom, gratitude, and sheer lust.
Wonder which it was? 
Three people, three nights, three possible motives: boredom, gratitude, and sheer lust.
Wonder which it was? 
old slave
FELIS RESPICIENS
We havn't yet got to that period of history where America wants to rule the world (that was our 'white man's burden' at the time) so the presence of the ships is an intriguing diversion. Will Barb want to go back to the rigid, formal, cloistered life of an English aristocrat? Or has a feisty, adventurous Barb emerged, who's descendant will be a Staff Member for an illustrious Forum?
windar
Teller of Tales
Maybe Lady Barbara was a descendant of Lady Godiva?View attachment 543114 Look at me, riding bareback! Good thing I learned to ride back in Cruxton. Talley Ho!
The US paid tribute to the Barbary pirates from its inception, until Thomas Jefferson decided to send a fleet to confront the Barbary states (interesting that he took a strong stand against slavery overseas; on his plantation in Virginia, not so much
). The Marine's Hymn begins "From the Halls of Montezuma, to the shores of Tripoli" (interventions in Mexico were all too frequent)...What forum would be crazy enough to put Moore in a position of authority?
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Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Looks like the ending is a naked version of Mozart's 'Die Entführung aus dem Serail'.“Be quiet and come with me. Hurry!” he shouted. I could hear the crowd hollering as the Janissaries led us down the stairs and helped each of us mount a horse, still naked. Kemal jumped on his horse and led the way through the stunned crowd, breaking into a fast trot as soon as we left the square, forcing bystanders to scurry out of the way. The noise was deafening.
We rode as fast as the horses could go down to the port and out onto the pier where my ship lay at anchor. Never had I been so happy to see my ship, which I had been certain I would never see again.
messaline
Crucified Amazon
It's unbelivable to see what men can do to a woman to submit her to their desires ! But can they really submit her ?But, are they sure that they can oblige a proud French girl to be obedient ?
Not this one, I hope !!!
windar
Teller of Tales
Homo homini lupus...Keep fighting Messa. That's why we love you
But, are they sure that they can oblige a proud French girl to be obedient ?
Not this one, I hope !!!View attachment 543131
You don't say....
Don't worry too much, Karim. She's always griping about something or another.
Small comfort?
That's the stuff of my dreams! A good deal more than one thinks about afterwards, I reckon.
Yup. That would definitely inform my travel plans.
But would you mind reprinting that line with larger print just to be sure that Barb gets it?
Ever the gentleman...
Not.... Americans?
Just when I'd thought that you couldn't possibly encounter anyone worse than the Ottomans!
Forgive the moronic comments, Windar, that was a great read!
Now that is what I call grumpy!What forum would be crazy enough to put Moore in a position of authority?
You don't say....
Don't worry too much, Karim. She's always griping about something or another.
Small comfort?
A good deal more than one thinks about afterwards, I reckon.
Yup. That would definitely inform my travel plans.
But would you mind reprinting that line with larger print just to be sure that Barb gets it?
Ever the gentleman...
Not.... Americans?
Just when I'd thought that you couldn't possibly encounter anyone worse than the Ottomans!
Forgive the moronic comments, Windar, that was a great read!
Now that is what I call grumpy!
Don't worry too much, Karim. She's always griping about something or another.
But would you mind reprinting that line with larger print just to be sure that Barb gets it?
Now that is what I call grumpy!
Just wait till I get back to England, Wragg! I will deal with your insolence then!
Don't worry too much, Karim. She's always griping about something or another.
But would you mind reprinting that line with larger print just to be sure that Barb gets it?
Now that is what I call grumpy!
Just wait till I get back to England, Wragg! I will deal with your insolence then!
windar
Teller of Tales
The horror....
He almost lost his head over her after all...
Thank you Wragg. Stay tuned for the Epilog
Don't worry too much, Karim. She's always griping about something or another.
But would you mind reprinting that line with larger print just to be sure that Barb gets it?
Now that is what I call grumpy!
Just wait till I get back to England, Wragg! I will deal with your insolence then!
Just wait till I get back to England, Wragg! I will deal with your insolence then!
Oh, and one other thing, I am the Duke of Cruxton, I am!
And I have marriage plans for you, young lady!
Lord Jollyrei of Much Groaning won't wait forever while you go gallivanting with Turks and pirates, you know!