windar
Teller of Tales
Stop reading ahead!!!
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Barbary Coast
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
Stop reading ahead!!!
Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
So it is. I have seen sheep with five legs and dragons with seven heads and cats with nine lives but never a cat wih nine tails.
A most regrettable situation. Perhaps they could be trained to perform some sort of useful service, O Captain. It may even raise their value in the marketplace.
Ayie!! Truly it is said the English roses have thorns, but have not the poets said that pleasure is greater where one has made efforts to gain it?
Indeed. He is most careful and meticulous. And see how they respond to his examination.
The slim daughter of a Duke will be fine. Fortunately the time in the marketplace and later the harem or brothel are normally less...noisy. There is generally less screaming in terror, in any case, even when there is screaming.
Ayie!! Truly it is said the English roses have thorns, but have not the poets said that pleasure is greater where one has made efforts to gain it?
Which English poet said that? Certainly not Wragg, the Duke of Cruxton! Just ask the service staff!
messaline
Crucified Amazon
Where is the US Navy when you need them?
There were some French galleys too, but some of them were used to the river Seine (Paris) ...
Other were visibly not able to be used !
... and anyway, the crew was not seeming to be very serious ...
But "c'est çà la France" ! (It's France!)
There were some French galleys too, but some of them were used to the river Seine (Paris) ...
View attachment 538215
Other were visibly not able to be used !
View attachment 538216
... and anyway, the crew was not seeming to be very serious ...
View attachment 538217
But "c'est çà la France" ! (It's France!)
Probably too much French wine 
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Ooops! Actually, I was backreading, because from the first episodes, I am missing the First Barbary War (1801-1805) element in the story. How such a reputed pirate could freely sail out without being intercepted and his ships shot to pieces.
Your story as such, is well written and entertaining, as usual, and basically, I do not mind how you handle historical accuracy. But be aware, keep some irony in the story, because if you take it too seriously, it will fall apart when it concerns scenario credibility. All stories here balance on a thin line of exciting fantasy, between a reality no one wants to live in real life, and over the top pulp. The added value of CF is that most of the stories and authors know managing to follow that thin line very well, and the CF community sanctions these stories going off the line by ignoring them.
Because of the fantasy world all our stories are situated, we all sometimes need to introduce narrative artifices to keep the story going (while meanwhile we must keep up a level of credibility, historical, or technical, often requiring some study work). One of these narrative twists, in this story is the betrayal of Captain Steele. From his viewpoint, it is credible, since Steele turns out to be a coward. But I bet the pirate captain would not have entrusted him immediately after the capture of the ship. Steele would have had to earn that trust. I understand that it was a neccsessary plot element for the further course of the story, but it only passes when a certain level of irony is kept up in the narrative. The betrayal of Steele, and the way it was easily accepted by the pirates was such a 'bump' in the story, that I was about to believe that Steele had deliberately exposed his ship to pirate attack, an attack of which he was informed himself in advance it would happen. Which made me post the reply that Steele and the pirates were just after 'The One Who Caused The In Windar's Threats Forbidden To Mention Event Of 2013' Only afterwards, we learned that Steele was only a cowardice turncoat.
Like I said, it is an acceptable plot twist, but only in an ironic story setting. Furthermore, avoid to take yourself too seriously. We are all here to have fun, after all.
Concerning the 'reading ahead', I also have seen comments on my stories which contain 'reading ahead'. The worst an author can do in that case, is replying with 'stop reading ahead', because then, you give away yourself the spoiler. Ignore it, smile, let the reader in suspense, and give him or her a compliment afterwards.
And I look forward to the next chapters of this entertaining story. And since I am in a naughty mood, I predict, the captives will be freed by the Swedish Navy, which was also waging war at the side of the US, then. But meanwhile, the captives will be no more be willing to return home, because they are captured by the Stockholm Syndrome - very embarassing for the Swedes, who came for nothing.
Thanks Lox for posting this comment. Some very good advice here. I do love to set my stories in historical contexts and I love doing enough research to add credible detailing, but as you say one must also walk that line necessary to spin a good yarn.
Steele is definitely a coward and opportunist. I like to think such people get their just rewards in the end, and perhaps he will before this story ends.
As for forecasting what’s coming with the phrase “stop reading ahead”, I generally don’t use it as an acknowledgement that the commenter actually foresees what is coming (that may or not be the case), rather just as a way of acknowledging that a commenter is thinking enough about the story to post a suggestion of what might be coming.
Anyway, just want to say I appreciated your thoughtful and helpful comment.
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windar
Teller of Tales
I will second your comments Lox. Anyone who looks to CF stories as sources of historical scholarship is probably very far off base. I wrote a story about a real historical character, Ann Lee, and everything in it was accurate except for the main thing-she was of course not crucified in 1790 Massachusetts. So I got around that with a literary trick, but I wouldn't want to make a habit of that. I don't think anyone in Barb's Constantinople story escaped 6 times and was recaptured, nor does history record any harem slaves who bopped the Sultan on the head. However, the stories will sometimes stimulate discussion of the actual history, as you and others have done here, and I for one learn from your knowledge. So a very honest thanks for your well thought out and expressed comments.
If we tell the truth, pirates weren't that dashing and handsome probably and slavery wasn't erotic, but mostly boring for the slaves. Crucifixion probably wasn't erotic for the victims either (at least history doesn't lend us any evidence for that) and if you read CF you would think the Romans did nothing but crucify people 24/7 and I don't think that is quite true.
As far as the ending, quite honestly, Barb and I have not yet written it, so who knows. Many things could happen. I hope the story is interesting enough, despite the historical improbabilities that you will keep reading.
If we tell the truth, pirates weren't that dashing and handsome probably and slavery wasn't erotic, but mostly boring for the slaves. Crucifixion probably wasn't erotic for the victims either (at least history doesn't lend us any evidence for that) and if you read CF you would think the Romans did nothing but crucify people 24/7 and I don't think that is quite true
.As far as the ending, quite honestly, Barb and I have not yet written it, so who knows. Many things could happen. I hope the story is interesting enough, despite the historical improbabilities that you will keep reading.
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old slave
FELIS RESPICIENS
A little language subtlety here, Loxuru. I, and I'm sure most of the other English-speaking writers, use this in a very ironic way, certainly not as either a command or an acknowledgment that the respondent has spotted the next plot. I will bluff, double-bluff, and add complete falsehoods to the banter between episodes.
I detect that most of us see humour everywhere in this strangely grim fetish we share. Comments are rarely seen as, or meant to be, literary criticism.
Exactly!
windar
Teller of Tales
You think that mustache looks good on you?
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Right! Apparently, I seem to take things too seriously the last months.
windar
Teller of Tales
windar
Teller of Tales
7. Ship’s log of Captain Karim Assaraf. Safar 25 1218 (evening)
In the name of Allah, the Most Beneficent, the Most Merciful, I was disgusted by that piece of camel dung, Steele. A man who would sell out his ship and his own countrywomen was not to be trusted. Nevertheless, cowardly as he was, I had to admit he was useful for now in explaining the ways of the infidels and of their upper classes in particular.
On the ships that I had captured with my father, blessed be his memory, the women had usually been the wives of merchants, or mistresses and whores in the case of the French and the Italians. This was my first exposure to real aristocracy. These English Ladies had led pampered lives, waited on by servants, never asked to do any useful work. Yet, stripped of their fine clothes, they looked like any woman, made by Allah for the pleasure of men.
I could not deny that it was good that Steele had whipped the one named Jane when she refused to undress. The others had hastened to shed their nightgowns, eager to avoid her fate and had not made any trouble as Muad examined them. This was the first step in transforming them from princesses used to having their way in all things into the obedient slaves they would be for the rest of their lives.
I knew however, that this would be a long process, to change a lifetime’s habit, backed up by generations of breeding. That was made clear by the defiant act by the older one, Prudence, though her conduct was anything but in accord with her name. It was a foolish and useless show of rebellion that, of course, could not be tolerated, even if it was directed at a fellow Englander. After all, even if he was a coward and an infidel, he was, at least for now, a member of the crew.
Of course, there was no question but that she had to be punished severely and in front of the others so that they would learn the price of disobedience. But as Steele drew the whip back, I considered that he was a fool who probably did not appreciate the value that a virgin English Lady could bring at auction. He had probably whipped many rough sailors in his time at sea, but I doubted he had ever applied lashes to the soft, sensitive skin of a finely bred Duchess or Countess. I couldn’t risk him damaging the merchandise so badly that buyers would shy away. I knew I could chastise her most painfully, yet preserve her attractiveness, given some time to heal before we made port.
“Wait!” I shouted, stretching my hand out. “Allow me.” Steele looked peeved that he would not be allowed to avenge the insult himself, but he passed the whip to me. I gripped the wooden handle firmly, positioned myself behind the trembling girl, extending my arms to gauge the distance, then drawing my arm back and sending the tails flying into the girl’s lovely buttocks with a satisfying smack.
Prudence, unused to such maltreatment, rose on her toes, pressing her belly and tits into the hard, unyielding timber as several lines of fire rose on the skin of her lower cheeks. I delivered the second lash to her shoulder blades. She twisted madly, kicking out with one foot, trying desperately to escape, but the ropes held her firmly, unmoved by her distress.
By the time I had delivered the first half dozen lashes, this fine English Lady, who had never known suffering or distress was howling like a cheap whore in the bazaar of Algiers, shaking her ass madly in a vain attempt to manage the searing pain from the bright red welts that now almost covered her ass and upper back. “He’s only begun, you worthless cunt!” Steele shouted. That was certainly true, as an offense such as hers could not be expiated by a mere six lashes.
As I continued my chastisement of Lady Prudence, I couldn’t help noting the effect that observing her pain and suffering was having on her travelling companions. The other virgin women were staring at Prudence with shocked looks on their faces, the aristocrats among them especially, obviously shocked that one of their own could be treated in such a fashion. I noted that the one called Barbara was crying, barely able to look at the punishment of her chaperone and protector.
This cartoon inspired this story. Artist unknown, posted by Phlebas
“Look away if you wish,” I thought, “But this is what your new life as a slave involves. You are no longer the Lady of the mansion, waited on by servants. Now you will serve others and any failure will be met with the whip or the cane or any other treatment your Master deems appropriate.” I struck Prudence again on the ass, setting the flesh to jiggling madly and the girl to screaming out her agony to the heavens, which seemed not to care.
I did not count how many lashes I gave the bound woman. It was certainly a dozen, perhaps a dozen and a half. As more blows fell on already damaged skin, the cords could not help but cut into the abused flesh. A few small trickles of blood began running down her back and buttocks. I noted that the cords of the whip were stained a light pink.
I went over for a closer examination, running my finger across some of the angrier-looking welts on the whipped girl’s back and ass. I knew she deserved still more punishment for such an act of gross insubordination, but at this point she was valuable merchandise and I wasn’t going to spoil her. I handed the whip to one of the crew.
“Muad, treat this infidel whore’s wounds,” I ordered. “Do not spare the soothing oils and emoluments. Not for her worthless sake, of course, but to preserve her value at auction. Leave her here bound to the mast overnight, so that the others can see her and learn the price of disobedience.”
Leaving Prudence sobbing and moaning against the wood, I turned to the other virgins who were cowering along the railing, trying to make themselves as unobtrusive as possible to escape my notice. It had been a long and fruitful day-a successful battle, a dozen English sluts taken as a prize, stripped naked and one flogged mercilessly. I deserved a reward.
I strode over to the five naked virgin English women, three ladies and two maids. Which one did I want to share my cabin this evening? All were attractive, but there was something about Barbara that appealed to me more than the others. Perhaps it was the mixture of fear and defiance on her tear-stained face. Perhaps it was her perfectly formed breasts, luscious hips and tight little ass, but, whatever it was, I wanted her.
I took hold of her upper arm and began pulling her towards the gangway that led to my cabin below decks. She didn’t struggle, but came along meekly. “Good,” I thought. “The whipping of the chaperone has had its effect.”
“Have you ever pleased a man without taking him inside your womanly parts?” I asked. She shook her head. I wondered if she would be too intimidated to perform her task to my satisfaction. Of course, failing to please me would earn her a whipping, but I was very aroused and wanted a good release without having to waste too much effort in instructing a novice.
“Have any of you ever pleased a man?” I asked, louder, addressing the others.
“I have, sir,” the maid named Mary said, a bit fearfully. I guessed that she saw it her duty to help a lady out in a difficult situation.
“Good,” I said, “You come with us. You will teach her.” We descended the ladder and entered my cabin. It was small and three people could not occupy it without rubbing against each other, something which I did not mind at all.
I removed my clothes and lay on the bed. I was already very excited and my erection stood tall, like the mast of my ship. The two English sluts knelt on the wooden floor beside the bed. The maid Mary took my penis in her hand, opened her mouth and inserted the tip inside.
The look on the Lady Barbara’s face was priceless. She appeared horrified and tried to look away. “You had better watch carefully and learn, because you will take a turn very shortly,” I told her. She turned and stared at the lewd spectacle of the maid taking my organ deeper into her mouth.
“Now you try,” I ordered. Mary let my cock fall from her mouth and moved out of the way so that Barbara could approach, “Go on, girl, do just what she did,” I urged. Barbara looked like she might vomit, but, knowing that would get her a harsh punishment, she grasped the hard flesh in one hand and, very tentatively, took the tip into her lovely mouth, a mouth that had heretofore been used only to eating the finest of foods and giving orders to servants. Now it was to be the vehicle of pleasure for a rough and dirty Moroccan pirate.
“Lick the shaft. The men always like that a lot,” Mary suggested helpfully. Barbara did her best to follow her maid’s instructions, as unused to that as she was to pleasing a man. She was tentative and not very good, certainly not as good as Mary. I had them change places every few minutes, which was good, as Mary would bring me close to the brink, but then my excitement would ebb a bit under Barbara’s less practiced ministrations.
After a goodly while, praise be to the Prophet, I felt that Mary’s skilled tongue was about to send me over the edge. I looked at Barbara. “You take it,” I ordered. She slid it into her mouth. Almost there, I lifted my ass off the bed, pushing myself deeper into her. Finally, I could take no more and I groaned and shot the first spurt into her mouth.
Unaccustomed to such bodily functions, the girl instinctively pulled back, causing my further spurts to shoot into the air and land on my stomach.
“What are you doing, you useless slut?” I yelled. “A slave does not reject her Master’s essence.” She tried to insert my penis back into her mouth, but it was too late, as I had already spent.
“Rafiq!” I yelled. It was but a moment before my cousin appeared in the doorway. “Take this worthless whore and bind her to the mast across from the other one. I will deal with her in the morning.” He escorted her out as I moved over to make room for the maid Mary in my bed.
In the name of Allah, the Most Beneficent, the Most Merciful, I was disgusted by that piece of camel dung, Steele. A man who would sell out his ship and his own countrywomen was not to be trusted. Nevertheless, cowardly as he was, I had to admit he was useful for now in explaining the ways of the infidels and of their upper classes in particular.
On the ships that I had captured with my father, blessed be his memory, the women had usually been the wives of merchants, or mistresses and whores in the case of the French and the Italians. This was my first exposure to real aristocracy. These English Ladies had led pampered lives, waited on by servants, never asked to do any useful work. Yet, stripped of their fine clothes, they looked like any woman, made by Allah for the pleasure of men.
I could not deny that it was good that Steele had whipped the one named Jane when she refused to undress. The others had hastened to shed their nightgowns, eager to avoid her fate and had not made any trouble as Muad examined them. This was the first step in transforming them from princesses used to having their way in all things into the obedient slaves they would be for the rest of their lives.
I knew however, that this would be a long process, to change a lifetime’s habit, backed up by generations of breeding. That was made clear by the defiant act by the older one, Prudence, though her conduct was anything but in accord with her name. It was a foolish and useless show of rebellion that, of course, could not be tolerated, even if it was directed at a fellow Englander. After all, even if he was a coward and an infidel, he was, at least for now, a member of the crew.
Of course, there was no question but that she had to be punished severely and in front of the others so that they would learn the price of disobedience. But as Steele drew the whip back, I considered that he was a fool who probably did not appreciate the value that a virgin English Lady could bring at auction. He had probably whipped many rough sailors in his time at sea, but I doubted he had ever applied lashes to the soft, sensitive skin of a finely bred Duchess or Countess. I couldn’t risk him damaging the merchandise so badly that buyers would shy away. I knew I could chastise her most painfully, yet preserve her attractiveness, given some time to heal before we made port.
“Wait!” I shouted, stretching my hand out. “Allow me.” Steele looked peeved that he would not be allowed to avenge the insult himself, but he passed the whip to me. I gripped the wooden handle firmly, positioned myself behind the trembling girl, extending my arms to gauge the distance, then drawing my arm back and sending the tails flying into the girl’s lovely buttocks with a satisfying smack.
Prudence, unused to such maltreatment, rose on her toes, pressing her belly and tits into the hard, unyielding timber as several lines of fire rose on the skin of her lower cheeks. I delivered the second lash to her shoulder blades. She twisted madly, kicking out with one foot, trying desperately to escape, but the ropes held her firmly, unmoved by her distress.
By the time I had delivered the first half dozen lashes, this fine English Lady, who had never known suffering or distress was howling like a cheap whore in the bazaar of Algiers, shaking her ass madly in a vain attempt to manage the searing pain from the bright red welts that now almost covered her ass and upper back. “He’s only begun, you worthless cunt!” Steele shouted. That was certainly true, as an offense such as hers could not be expiated by a mere six lashes.
As I continued my chastisement of Lady Prudence, I couldn’t help noting the effect that observing her pain and suffering was having on her travelling companions. The other virgin women were staring at Prudence with shocked looks on their faces, the aristocrats among them especially, obviously shocked that one of their own could be treated in such a fashion. I noted that the one called Barbara was crying, barely able to look at the punishment of her chaperone and protector.
This cartoon inspired this story. Artist unknown, posted by Phlebas
“Look away if you wish,” I thought, “But this is what your new life as a slave involves. You are no longer the Lady of the mansion, waited on by servants. Now you will serve others and any failure will be met with the whip or the cane or any other treatment your Master deems appropriate.” I struck Prudence again on the ass, setting the flesh to jiggling madly and the girl to screaming out her agony to the heavens, which seemed not to care.
I did not count how many lashes I gave the bound woman. It was certainly a dozen, perhaps a dozen and a half. As more blows fell on already damaged skin, the cords could not help but cut into the abused flesh. A few small trickles of blood began running down her back and buttocks. I noted that the cords of the whip were stained a light pink.
I went over for a closer examination, running my finger across some of the angrier-looking welts on the whipped girl’s back and ass. I knew she deserved still more punishment for such an act of gross insubordination, but at this point she was valuable merchandise and I wasn’t going to spoil her. I handed the whip to one of the crew.
“Muad, treat this infidel whore’s wounds,” I ordered. “Do not spare the soothing oils and emoluments. Not for her worthless sake, of course, but to preserve her value at auction. Leave her here bound to the mast overnight, so that the others can see her and learn the price of disobedience.”
Leaving Prudence sobbing and moaning against the wood, I turned to the other virgins who were cowering along the railing, trying to make themselves as unobtrusive as possible to escape my notice. It had been a long and fruitful day-a successful battle, a dozen English sluts taken as a prize, stripped naked and one flogged mercilessly. I deserved a reward.
I strode over to the five naked virgin English women, three ladies and two maids. Which one did I want to share my cabin this evening? All were attractive, but there was something about Barbara that appealed to me more than the others. Perhaps it was the mixture of fear and defiance on her tear-stained face. Perhaps it was her perfectly formed breasts, luscious hips and tight little ass, but, whatever it was, I wanted her.
I took hold of her upper arm and began pulling her towards the gangway that led to my cabin below decks. She didn’t struggle, but came along meekly. “Good,” I thought. “The whipping of the chaperone has had its effect.”
“Have you ever pleased a man without taking him inside your womanly parts?” I asked. She shook her head. I wondered if she would be too intimidated to perform her task to my satisfaction. Of course, failing to please me would earn her a whipping, but I was very aroused and wanted a good release without having to waste too much effort in instructing a novice.
“Have any of you ever pleased a man?” I asked, louder, addressing the others.
“I have, sir,” the maid named Mary said, a bit fearfully. I guessed that she saw it her duty to help a lady out in a difficult situation.
“Good,” I said, “You come with us. You will teach her.” We descended the ladder and entered my cabin. It was small and three people could not occupy it without rubbing against each other, something which I did not mind at all.
I removed my clothes and lay on the bed. I was already very excited and my erection stood tall, like the mast of my ship. The two English sluts knelt on the wooden floor beside the bed. The maid Mary took my penis in her hand, opened her mouth and inserted the tip inside.
The look on the Lady Barbara’s face was priceless. She appeared horrified and tried to look away. “You had better watch carefully and learn, because you will take a turn very shortly,” I told her. She turned and stared at the lewd spectacle of the maid taking my organ deeper into her mouth.
“Now you try,” I ordered. Mary let my cock fall from her mouth and moved out of the way so that Barbara could approach, “Go on, girl, do just what she did,” I urged. Barbara looked like she might vomit, but, knowing that would get her a harsh punishment, she grasped the hard flesh in one hand and, very tentatively, took the tip into her lovely mouth, a mouth that had heretofore been used only to eating the finest of foods and giving orders to servants. Now it was to be the vehicle of pleasure for a rough and dirty Moroccan pirate.
“Lick the shaft. The men always like that a lot,” Mary suggested helpfully. Barbara did her best to follow her maid’s instructions, as unused to that as she was to pleasing a man. She was tentative and not very good, certainly not as good as Mary. I had them change places every few minutes, which was good, as Mary would bring me close to the brink, but then my excitement would ebb a bit under Barbara’s less practiced ministrations.
After a goodly while, praise be to the Prophet, I felt that Mary’s skilled tongue was about to send me over the edge. I looked at Barbara. “You take it,” I ordered. She slid it into her mouth. Almost there, I lifted my ass off the bed, pushing myself deeper into her. Finally, I could take no more and I groaned and shot the first spurt into her mouth.
Unaccustomed to such bodily functions, the girl instinctively pulled back, causing my further spurts to shoot into the air and land on my stomach.
“What are you doing, you useless slut?” I yelled. “A slave does not reject her Master’s essence.” She tried to insert my penis back into her mouth, but it was too late, as I had already spent.
“Rafiq!” I yelled. It was but a moment before my cousin appeared in the doorway. “Take this worthless whore and bind her to the mast across from the other one. I will deal with her in the morning.” He escorted her out as I moved over to make room for the maid Mary in my bed.
old slave
FELIS RESPICIENS
The two points of view, each one recapping with a different perspective, then moving the story on, I find a most satisfactory formula.
Now we know why the English aristocracy sent their daughters to FRENCH finishing schools. I often wondered what they could teach that we couldn't.
Now we know why the English aristocracy sent their daughters to FRENCH finishing schools. I often wondered what they could teach that we couldn't.
Mr Assaraf, in England we call that 'bragging'.
On the other hand, it must have been fairly impressive. It takes a lot to rattle Barb!
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
They soon will have a shortage of masts to tie all the rebellous women to.
What is wrong, by the way, with an old fashioned keelhauling to teach them manners?
(Oh yes, getting entangled in the oars, I guess
)
They soon will have a shortage of masts to tie all the rebellous women to.
What is wrong, by the way, with an old fashioned keelhauling to teach them manners?
(Oh yes, getting entangled in the oars, I guess
What is wrong, by the way, with an old fashioned keelhauling to teach them manners?
Don’t give them any ideas!
Windar plot is more interesting that I thought. So who will write about Barbara punishment?
Next episode. Stay tuned