theseus
SERVILIS CURATOR
This story is at the suggestion of Messaline as we are renewing an old friendship.
Paskell, the blonde slave of the Sultan
The storm was over. The wind had dropped, but the seas were still huge. The mastless hulk of the ship rolled sickeningly. Nobody moved on board. The crew, those who were still alive and uninjured, slept the sleep of the totally exhausted.
Paskell stumbled out of her cabin, holding on to anything she could. The cabin smelled of damp and vomit, of women confined for too long. She breathed the humid sea air with relief. She looked out at sea around the ship around the ship. The sea was a strange coppery colour. In the distance three triangular sails appeared and disappeared, like the fins of huge sharks.
It had all started half a year ago. After the last scandal her father had decided that for the good of the family Paskell would have to be removed out of sight and mind, for a long time. France was too small for her, so he decided to send her to his brother’s plantation in the far off island colony of Ile de France.
The voyage had been boring! She was the only woman on board, unless you counted her maid Nanette, which was unthinkable. The other passengers were merchants! Tradesmen, hardly fit company for her. After many months the ship had stopped in a hot, steamy inlet. Here they loaded fifty male slaves for her uncle’s plantation. She looked with interest at the naked men as they were brought on board. She looked with interest at the well muscled, lean savages. She licked her lips at the sight of the equipment between strong thighs.
“Nanette!” The maid’s skilful tongue and fingers would do well to assuage the itch the naked men had stirred. She returned to the deck in time to see the six young girls loaded. She smiled to herself, still glowing from Nanette’s attentions. The girls' skins gleamed with oil, firm breasts bobbed as they climbed aboard. Unlike the men, each had a scrap of cotton around her waist. One of them caught her eye. This one was haughty, beautiful, and carried herself as if she, too were an aristocrat. Unthinkable, of course, she was a black savage. Paskell studied her, a very attractive black savage. Perhaps she would ask her uncle if she could have her. Nanette was becoming boring, and impudent.
She came back to the present. The sails were much closer now, the hulls of the dhows visible now. One of the crew woke, looked out and started shouting with alarm. A few of the crew stumbled on deck. There was panic! Men ran around, shouting, as the dhows approached. Black men, almost naked, swarmed aboard! One of the crew fired a shot. An axe bit into his shoulder, almost cutting him in half. In moments it was over. The black men now owned the ship!
She watched with growing horror as the crew were rounded up, stripped naked and put in chains. They were loaded into the dhows. The surviving black slaves were brought up on deck. More than half of them had died in the storm, but the survivors dance with joy at the black faces of their rescuers. Then the joy turned to despair as they realised that they had merely exchanged one set of captors for another. Four f the girls still lived, including the haughty one. Even when the rag she was wearing was torn from her body and replaced by heavy chains she managed to keep her composure.
The leader of the invaders, she assumed they were pirates, came to Paskell. He seemed uncertain about what to do with her. His French was appalling, but she managed to understand enough to realise that he wanted her and Nannette to come on board the biggest of the dhows.
She looked at the wreckage around her. “Nanette! Pack my small trunk! Quickly!” As the girl scurried away she spoke to the leader, slowly and loudly, as one spoke to a savage. “My luggage is in the hold, see to it that it is brought with us!”
Turning her back on him, she strode to the side of the ship and boarded the dhow.
When Nanette appeared, staggering under the weight of the small trunk, one containing only the dozen dresses considered absolutely essential, plus make-up, jewellery and other necessities, she said to the captain, “Show me to my cabin!”
She was shown to the captain’s cabin, in fact the only cabin. It was a filthy little hutch, worse than a doghouse. The captain said that she and Nannette could share the one barrow bed. That, of course, was unthinkable. While she enjoyed Nannette’s body, and her skilful mouth, she could never demean herself by sharing a bed with a mere servant. She could sleep on the floor!
Paskell, the blonde slave of the Sultan
The storm was over. The wind had dropped, but the seas were still huge. The mastless hulk of the ship rolled sickeningly. Nobody moved on board. The crew, those who were still alive and uninjured, slept the sleep of the totally exhausted.
Paskell stumbled out of her cabin, holding on to anything she could. The cabin smelled of damp and vomit, of women confined for too long. She breathed the humid sea air with relief. She looked out at sea around the ship around the ship. The sea was a strange coppery colour. In the distance three triangular sails appeared and disappeared, like the fins of huge sharks.
It had all started half a year ago. After the last scandal her father had decided that for the good of the family Paskell would have to be removed out of sight and mind, for a long time. France was too small for her, so he decided to send her to his brother’s plantation in the far off island colony of Ile de France.
The voyage had been boring! She was the only woman on board, unless you counted her maid Nanette, which was unthinkable. The other passengers were merchants! Tradesmen, hardly fit company for her. After many months the ship had stopped in a hot, steamy inlet. Here they loaded fifty male slaves for her uncle’s plantation. She looked with interest at the naked men as they were brought on board. She looked with interest at the well muscled, lean savages. She licked her lips at the sight of the equipment between strong thighs.
“Nanette!” The maid’s skilful tongue and fingers would do well to assuage the itch the naked men had stirred. She returned to the deck in time to see the six young girls loaded. She smiled to herself, still glowing from Nanette’s attentions. The girls' skins gleamed with oil, firm breasts bobbed as they climbed aboard. Unlike the men, each had a scrap of cotton around her waist. One of them caught her eye. This one was haughty, beautiful, and carried herself as if she, too were an aristocrat. Unthinkable, of course, she was a black savage. Paskell studied her, a very attractive black savage. Perhaps she would ask her uncle if she could have her. Nanette was becoming boring, and impudent.
She came back to the present. The sails were much closer now, the hulls of the dhows visible now. One of the crew woke, looked out and started shouting with alarm. A few of the crew stumbled on deck. There was panic! Men ran around, shouting, as the dhows approached. Black men, almost naked, swarmed aboard! One of the crew fired a shot. An axe bit into his shoulder, almost cutting him in half. In moments it was over. The black men now owned the ship!
She watched with growing horror as the crew were rounded up, stripped naked and put in chains. They were loaded into the dhows. The surviving black slaves were brought up on deck. More than half of them had died in the storm, but the survivors dance with joy at the black faces of their rescuers. Then the joy turned to despair as they realised that they had merely exchanged one set of captors for another. Four f the girls still lived, including the haughty one. Even when the rag she was wearing was torn from her body and replaced by heavy chains she managed to keep her composure.
The leader of the invaders, she assumed they were pirates, came to Paskell. He seemed uncertain about what to do with her. His French was appalling, but she managed to understand enough to realise that he wanted her and Nannette to come on board the biggest of the dhows.
She looked at the wreckage around her. “Nanette! Pack my small trunk! Quickly!” As the girl scurried away she spoke to the leader, slowly and loudly, as one spoke to a savage. “My luggage is in the hold, see to it that it is brought with us!”
Turning her back on him, she strode to the side of the ship and boarded the dhow.
When Nanette appeared, staggering under the weight of the small trunk, one containing only the dozen dresses considered absolutely essential, plus make-up, jewellery and other necessities, she said to the captain, “Show me to my cabin!”
She was shown to the captain’s cabin, in fact the only cabin. It was a filthy little hutch, worse than a doghouse. The captain said that she and Nannette could share the one barrow bed. That, of course, was unthinkable. While she enjoyed Nannette’s body, and her skilful mouth, she could never demean herself by sharing a bed with a mere servant. She could sleep on the floor!
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